One Song

Chapter One: You've Got to Start Somewhere

God, I hate starting stories. It’s insane how hard it is to get words out onto the page in such a way that you think the reader will be drawn in. I mean, how can you honestly expect to be able to come up with that perfect sentence? I especially hate stories that begin with “It all started when…” and then the story.

It all started when I joined the worship band. It was my senior year, and Josh needed two new backup singers. He’s always taken them from the senior girls – don’t ask me why. So it was just Anna and me.

I suppose this may be a good time to explain who “me” is. My name is Kate. I’m 18, average height, average body type, not-so-average hair color. Black with purple streaks, currently, but that’s beside the point. The point is that I am a not-so-average girl. I’m a Christian with piercing, dyed hair, and a love of making people’s heads turn. Anna is my best friend, and has been ever since I moved to Florida. She’s more of a preppy-type, but I love her to bits. But I digress.

The worship band was comprised of eight people: Three guitarists, one bass, one drummer, one keyboard, and two backup singers – and I was one of them. I stood out from all of them, but I was one of them. It was a wonderful feeling.

“It’s the Scarf of Doom! All shall be my minions or face my scarfy wrath!”

“Kate, you’re insane.” Anna laughed at me and took her coffee from the Starbucks guy. I waved the pink and purple fringe at her.

“Don’t insult the Supreme Ruler of Starbucks and her Scarf of Doom!” I said threateningly as I got my latte. “Otherwise my scarfy wrath will seriously get you.”

“Sure, sure. Get your pound cake.”

“Ooo! Pound cake!” I snatched up the bag that the ‘barista’ had set on the counter and followed Anna out to her car. "My scarf is a force to be reckoned with, I tell you!"

"Alright, I get it, scarfy wrath." Anna rolled her eyes as she started her car. "You know," she said, "You really need your own car."

"I have my own car." I pointed out. "I'm just not allowed to drive it yet." she snorted. "Anyway, it's more fun riding with you!" I teased, popping a bite of my pound cake into my mouth.

~~~

"Uh-oh, Kate's wearing her scarf, guys! Beware!" Josh called to the rest of the band as we came into the Tampa Bay Baptist Church youth hall for practice.

"We're going to have a good practice today, Josh!" Brad commented from behind the drum kit.

"Why's that?" Mark asked as he fiddled with the settings on his keyboard. Brad grinned.

"Because Kate's wearing her leash!" I shot Brad a look of mock disdain, then yelped with surprise as my scarf was wrapped around my head.

"Chris! Stop it!" I laughed and reached behind me to poke the bass player before unwrapping myself.

"Aw, but you look so cute in a turban!" he laughed, jumping out of reach of my arms and scarf.

"Yeah, Chris, and you look good in a kilt." Josh retorted from the stage. "Come on, guys, we need to practice now."

"Sir, yes Sir!" Anna, Chris, and I saluted and jumped up onto the stage.

“Ok, we’re gonna practice for Sunday first. What did we decide for an opener?”

“’Celebrate’ by This Day On, wasn’t it?” Jesse asked.

“Right, everybody have chord sheets? Dave, put the chips down now.” Josh picked up his guitar and everyone slipped into place automatically. I held my microphone and closed my eyes, imagining the roar of a crowd cheering for us, and the smiling face of our “audience of One”. “Ready? One, two, three!” The band started to play and I grinned as Josh started singing. Verse – Josh, Chorus – Josh, Anna, and me. And it was finally my turn to sing.

“I choose to celebrate,
celebrate today
Cuz Jesus has come into my heart to stay.
So I pray, hands raised,
And choose to celebrate
Jesus is in my heart today to stay.”

~~~

“I’m really bummed that I can’t make the concert on Friday.” Anna sighed Tuesday during homeroom.

“Me too, Banana.” I pouted. “Why can’t you, again?”

“My dad’s birthday. You know, the thing I’ve been celebrating every single day of my life on October 29th?”

“Oh, right.” I grinned sheepishly. “I knew that.”

“Sure you did, Kate.” Anna laughed and grabbed her bag when the bell rang. “Look, I’ll see you after History, ok? I’ve got a student council meeting next period.”

“Yes ma’am, Madame Vice President.” I said, bowing. She laughed and waved, heading down the opposite hallway. “Great.” I muttered to myself. “Now I have to face Ms. Excel alone.”

“Oh, it couldn’t be THAT hard.” I turned, startled by the voice behind me. I rolled my eyes in exasperation when I saw the speaker.

“Chris, WHY do you insist on sneaking up on me EVERY TIME we see each other?”

“Because you scare so easily, ‘Pooky as you may be!” he said, laughing and pinching my cheek good-naturedly.

Chris is my oldest and bestest friend (no offense to dear Anna). Our mothers met at the doctor’s office during checkups, and we were subsequently born two days apart. I’m the oldest. We’ve always ALWAYS been friends, ever since before I can remember. My first memory is of him looking at my Halloween costume when we were three (I was a ghost that year) and declaring it “ ‘Pooky”.

What a way to start my memories of life, eh?

“Anyway, don’t I count?” he continued. “I’m in Ms. Excel’s class too, you know.”

“No, you don’t count.” I said, poking him in the stomach. He stuck his tongue out at me. “And you call yourself a senior!” I said, and promptly stuck my tongue out at him. By the time we came into History, we were discussing band names and whether it was a faux pas to name “The Band” Velvet Botox.

Velvet Botox - Live!

2004-10-31T13:25:00.000-05:00

Chapter Two: Velvet Botox - Live!

“Ok, we can do this. Can we can do this?”

“Where’s the pedal for my keyboard?”

“Why did they change it on us at the last minute?”

“Where’s Anna?”

“Do we have to actually wear our costumes?”

“I can’t believe we’re missing church for this!”

“QUIET!” Josh shouted above the racket that the band (recently dubbed ‘Velvet Botox’) was making outside the van as we loaded up. We immediately quieted down and looked at him expectantly. “Much better.” He sighed. “Now, in answer to your questions…Yes, in the tech bag, because they wanted to, she’s taking her cousins trick or treating, yes, and we’re not since we already played church.” I blinked slowly, trying to work through the answers in order. Everyone else appeared to be doing the same thing.

“That was awesome, Josh.” Dave grinned and finished off his candy bar. Josh bowed dramatically, his vampire cape swirling around him quite…dramatically.

“Thank you. Now get in the van, all of you.”

“I call shotgun!”

“No way, I called it first!”

“Kate gets shotgun, she’s navigating.”

“Aw, c’mon, don’t stick me in the back with the keyboard!”

“Are we all in?”

“Yes!”

“Ok, off we go!” Josh pealed out of the church parking lot, and I thought again of how absolutely COOL he was. Twenty-four years old, already graduated college, and in a band with a bunch of high schoolers.

Ok, so Jesse and Brad were in college, but they were only 19.

“Alright, you’re going to turn left up here.” I told him over the din of the boys in the back, looking up from my directions.

“Ok.” Josh turned as directed. “Thanks for navigating, by the way. I’m hopeless when it comes to directions.”

“No prob.” I grinned. Something hit the back of my head and I groaned. “Josh, how can they possibly be my age?” Josh laughed.

“It never gets any better. You know I’d be throwing things too, if I weren’t driving.” I sighed and turned around in my seat.

“Oi! You boys stop it or I’ll make you all dress as girls for the next WEEK!”

“Whatever, Kate, you don’t OWN girl’s clothes!”

“He’s right, Pooky! You take ‘em out of my closet every morning!” I rolled my eyes and swatted Mark, who was the closest. It was a long running joke that Chris and I shared clothes, because we lived across the street from each other and I didn’t wear girly clothes.

“Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you this,” Josh said, bringing my attention back to the front seat. “Why does Chris call you ‘Pooky’?”

“Oh, THAT.” I laughed. “When we were three, I dressed up as a ghost for Halloween, right? And – turn right at the light – and Chris thought that I looked ‘pooky’. Instead of ‘spooky’, you know?”

“You’re serious?”

“Yep.”

“That is seriously funny.”

“Yep.”

“Is this the place?” I looked at the address on the sheet of directions and then up at the building we were stopped in front of.

“Yeah. Unload, boys!” I called to the backseat. The boys piled out and Josh and Brad went inside to see whoever was in charge.

“It’s our first paid gig! This is awesome!” Mark leaned against the van. “Can you believe it?”

“Yes.” Jesse said from inside the van, where he was stretched out, his feet poking through the door. I swatted his feet.

“It’s hard to believe, but we’re a pretty good band, if I do say so myself.” Dave said proudly.

“I just wish Anna could be here.” I said a little wistfully. “It’s almost as if it’s not a real gig, ‘cause we’re not all here.”

“Aw, don’t worry about it, kiddo.” Mark ruffled my hair. “She’ll get to perform plenty of times. Honest.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” I smoothed my hair back down as Josh and Brad reappeared from inside the small club.

“Ok, let’s unload kids – the guests will be arriving in an hour and we’ve got to be ready to go when they get here! Hut hut!” the entire band became a flurry of unloading. We each had our responsibilities, and within ten minutes we had everything inside and were setting up and plugging everything in.

“Josh, how many sets are we doing?” I asked, picking up our set list. “This shows at least four.”

“Um, yeah,” Josh grinned sheepishly. Everyone but Brad and Mark stopped what they were doing to stare at Josh. “Ok, we’re going to have 20 minute breaks in between each set, and we won’t necessarily get to the fourth one. The first two sets are classics, a couple Halloween type songs, third set is our original songs, and fourth set is popular music again.” Everyone crowded around me and the set list.

“Hey, Chris, you remember the bass line to ‘Monster Mash’, right?”

“Duh! Do you remember the drum solo in ‘Barlow Girl’?”

“Totally!”

“Hey, Kate,” Josh motioned for me to come over out of the group. I fought my way out, leaving the guys to argue about who did and didn’t remember their parts. “I don’t know if you noticed, but I’ve got a lot of songs in there that needs a girl lead.” I nodded. “Are you up to it?”

“Yeah!” I looked at him incredulously. “Why wouldn’t I be?” he shrugged.

“Just making sure. You’ve never done lead on more than two songs at any concert. You’ve got at least twenty tonight. I just wanted to know you weren’t going to freak out on me or anything.”

“You know me better than that!” I laughed. I may freak out about many things, but performing is not one of them. “So just why do I have to sing so much tonight?”

“Heh, funny you should mention that…” Josh scratched the back of his head and grinned a little sheepishly. “Partially because the people who booked us wanted more female-lead songs, and partially because I don’t want to have to sing all night.”

“Hey!” I smacked him in the arm lightly. “Don’t make me do your dirty work for you!”

“No way!” Josh looked shocked. “That’s what we have Dave for!”

“What’s that?” Dave poked his head up from behind the sound board.

“Nothing, just plotting on brainwashing you to be our slave!” Josh called back.

“Oh, well in THAT case.” Dave rolled his eyes and returned to plugging in all the cords.

“Don’t give me no cheek, boy!” I rolled MY eyes as Josh and Dave got into a small tussle in the corner of the empty club.

“Can we possibly concentrate on setting up?” Jesse laughed. It was a completely normal set-up for us, and we didn’t really pay any attention to anything other than setting up until the club owner came in. He was one of those people who always seems out of breath, and makes you tired just looking at him.

“Oh, you’re ready? Good, we’ve already got people lined up outside.” He said, sounding as if he was in the middle of running a marathon. Mark tried unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn. “Now we don’t want you to start playing for about twenty minutes, to give people a chance to come in. Is that okay?”

“It’s no problem, sir, really.” Josh smiled reassuringly at the guy. “We’ll just get our costumes on, and wait backstage until you’re ready for us.”

“Alright. Alright.” Mr. Club Owner nodded as if surprised how easy the conversation had been. “I’m going to start letting people in. You’re sure you’re ready?”

“Yes sir. We’re fine. Go do your job, we’ve got ours covered.” Josh discreetly ushered the owner towards the door. When he returned, he rolled his eyes. “What a character, huh?”

“Seriously.” Brad stretched and stood up. “So, shall we change?”

“Definitely. Kate gets the closet first.” Josh opened a door, revealing an EXTREMELY small dressing room.

“Closet is right.” I muttered, and grabbed my bag. About fifteen minutes later, after enduring the guys banging on the door to ‘hurry me up’, I emerged and modeled my costume for the guys.

“Wow.” Mark said. Chris gave a low whistle, and Jesse and Dave gaped.

“That’s some costume, Pooky.” Chris said finally. I blushed slightly in the dim light and stuck my tongue out at him.

“It’s just a dress.” I insisted.

“And the hair. And the makeup.” Mark said.

“Not to mention the boots.” Brad pointed out.

My costume had been Anna’s idea. She had found the dress in a costume shop and convinced me to buy it. It was a black and burgundy gothic-looking dress, with black gauze and lace. I wore black tights, my brother’s black combat boots and heavy makeup: deep red lipstick, kohl eyeliner, fake eyelashes, and dramatic eye shadow. My hair was pulled up partially in a sort of messy spiky pony tail.

“You look like Amy Lee.” Jesse said finally. “Only with purple streaks in your hair.”

“Thanks, I think.” I laughed. “You guys had better get your costumes on, though – sorry I took so long.”

“No problem, kiddo.” Josh grinned. “You’ll make quite a sensation out there.”

~~~

“Ladies and Gentlemen, Athenea presents Velvet Botox!”

The crowd cheered loudly, even though most (if not all) of them had never heard of us. The lights came on, and one of the guitarists started playing. I froze for a moment, blinded by the lights and seeing the shadows of over two hundred people watching me. My intro passed, and whoever was playing (I couldn’t remember) played it again. Then I snapped back to action and sang.

The first song was originally going to be something fun and Halloweenish, the Monster Mash or some such song. But after seeing me come out all ‘punked out’ as Josh put it, the lineup was shuffled around and our first song was changed to “Going Under” by Evanesance – suggested by Jesse’s assertion that I looked like Amy Lee. Our first set went quickly, with only a couple slips, and after our break the second set went well also. It was our third set that we were most nervous about – playing all our own songs. By that time, most of the people at the party were drunk, and Chris and I were afraid that if they didn’t like us, they’d mob us. But we had ten minutes before our next set, so we were still calm.

Suddenly, we were attacked by ninjas.

It was like something out of a bad NaNoWriMo novel. Three ninjas snuck in among us and started attacking. Well, actually it was more of them attacking each other and us being in the way. We scattered into a sort of ring, watching as they fought with precision. It was amazing to watch them lashing out at each other so quickly. Then the pirates joined in. They rushed the circle with a yell and started hacking at the ninjas. It was pure and absolute insanity.

Someone must have grabbed the bouncers, because there were suddenly a group of very large men in black suits looking menacingly at the pirates and ninjas. The pirates (being the cowards that they are) stopped fighting and immediately dispersed. The ninjas were a bit more resistant, but they eventually split up (reluctantly) and melted into the crowd.

“Sorry about that.” One of the bouncers said to us. “We’ll keep an eye on them.”

“Sure.” Mark nodded, his voice cracking noticeably. The bouncers left and we looked at each other in a mix of confusion, relief, and amusement.

“Well THAT was interesting.” Josh said finally. “Are we ready for the third set?”

“Sure thing.” Dave nodded, chowing down on his popcorn. Josh looked at him oddly.

“Where did you get popcorn?”

“I brought it with me.”

“Popped?”

“Naw, I found a microwave.”

“Oh. Alright.” Josh shook his head a little. “Well, let’s get on stage, then.”

It was much easier for me to start singing once the lights were on us than it was for the first set. Of course, I wasn’t the one singing. Our all-original songs set started with one of my favorite of our songs, ‘Soul’s Fire’. As I waited for my harmony part to come up, I scanned the audience. Most of the people at the party were dancing, laughing, and generally inebriated. Except for one man. He was sitting at a table close to the stage, watching us with a curious expression on his face. I looked at him, then looked away, scanning the crowd to see how they reacted to our music.

We sang eight of our own songs, and during each one I found my eyes straying back to the man at the table. Each time he was sitting there, watching us intently. It was unsettling, to say the least.

~~~

“You were marvelous! Simply marvelous! I can’t thank you enough!” Mr. Club Owner (I had found out earlier that his name was Johnson) shook our hands vigorously as we finished packing up after the party was over. It was two in the morning, and we all had school later that day (well, except for Josh), but we were absolutely thrilled with how well the concert went. After we finished our last set, we got an encore, and another, and we ended up playing the equivalent of another set and a half.

“It was our pleasure, Mr. Johnson.” Josh said, putting the last of the tech bags into the back of the van. “Thanks for letting us play.” Mr. Johnson waved him off.

“Well, well, you were perfect. I’ll send the check to you by Wednesday?”

“That would be fine, sir.”

“Oh, Josh, before you go?” Mr. Johnson waved to someone still inside the club. “I have a friend who wanted to meet you. Carl, this is Josh Connelly, he’s the leader of Velvet Botox. Josh, my friend Carl Wentworth.” Josh shook hands with the man who had been watching us so intently the entire evening.

“You have quite a repertoire.” Mr. Wentworth said, smiling. “But I didn’t recognize the songs you played in the third set.”

“Those are our songs!” I said, then covered my mouth. “Sorry.” Mr. Wentworth laughed.

“It’s alright.” He reached out and shook my hand. “You, Miss, have a distinctive stage presence. What is you name?”

“Kate.” I said, blushing a little in the dim light.

“Anyway, this is the rest of the band.” Josh said, pointing out the boys one by one. “Dave, Brad, Jesse, Mark, and Chris. We have another girl, Anna, but she couldn’t make it tonight.”

“Well, you’re a group of fine musicians.” Mr. Wentworth said, after shaking everyone’s hands. “How would I go about booking you for a concert?”

“I believe Mr. Johnson can give you that information.” Josh said apologetically. “I hate to be rude, but most of these kids have school tomorrow, so…”

“Of course, of course.” Mr. Wentworth nodded. “I’ll be getting in touch.”

“And I’ll send that check out by Wednesday.” Mr. Johnson added. We all said good-bye and piled into the van for the ride home.

“Can we all just crash at your place, Josh?” Chris teased sleepily on the way home.

“No, but I think we’ll stop at a Circle K for soda on the way back so y’all don’t fall asleep driving home. It’s on me.” Josh laughed as the rest of us burst into weary cheers. It had been a long but enjoyable night.

Sibling Rivalry

2004-10-30T16:30:00.000-04:00

Chapter Three: Sibling Rivalry

“MOTHER!” I slammed the door to the garage and stomped inside. “MOTHER!”

“What is it this time?” I heard her sigh from the kitchen. I stalked in, angrily throwing my bookbag down next to the table.

“Only YOUR daughter!” I fumed. “I was trying to leave early for practice so I could go over some parts with Josh, but YOUR daughter decided to be a brat and STEAL my garage door opener! She has currently locked herself in YOUR car with it, and now I’m going to be LATE!” I put my hands on my hips, silently asking Mom what she was going to do about it all. She sighed deeply.

“Kate, I’ll just leave the front door unlocked for you, alright?”

“No, it’s not alright!” I cried indignantly. “My property has been stolen from me by that creature I call my sister, and you’re not going to do ANYTHING?”

“Kate…” Mom groaned and massaged her temples with one hand. “I’ll deal with her. But you need to get to practice.”

“Fine, whatever!” I threw my hands up in exasperated defeat and grabbed a water bottle and granola bar. “I’ll probably find myself locked out constantly, because she’ll never give it back, and if she does, it’ll be screwed up so it won’t work, and she’ll be mad at me and ruin all my things. I need a deadbolt for my bedroom to protect it!”

“If she breaks any of your things, I’ll punish her and get you a deadbolt, alright?” My mom said. I stopped and pondered this for a moment.

“Alright, that works.” I said. I leaned over and gave her a hug and a kiss. “Sorry to be so upset, but you know how she is.”

“Yes, baby, I know. Now go to practice!” she shooed me out the door and I stuck my tongue out at Sheila (my sister) as I walked to my car.

“Please let Sheila break something not too important while I’m gone.” I prayed silently. I would give almost anything to have a deadbolt to protect my room from my sister and her friends.

“You look frazzled.” Chris commented as I stumped into the youth room a few minutes later.

“No, really?” I snapped, the sarcasm laid on so thick it was almost tangible. “I never would have noticed.”

“Ah, Sheila’s at it again, eh?” he nodded sympathetically. “That sucks.”

“You’re telling me!” I sighed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“Aw, it’s ok, Pooky.” He hugged me and patted my head. “We both know she’s actually an alien sent to annoy the living daylights out of you!” I laughed in spite of myself.

“You know, I think you’re right, Chris!” I said, trying to keep a straight face. “And I think you must have come from the same planet.”

“Me?” Chris batted his eyelashes innocently. “But I only live to serve you m’lady!”

“What, you’re a servant now?” Dave asked, biting into a candy bar as he walked by.

“And to a lady, no less!” Anna laughed, sneaking up behind me. Jesse gasped indignantly from behind the sound board.

“Hey, don’t be makin’ fun of our Gothic Princess.” He said. “Did you SEE Kate dressed up on Sunday?” Anna’s eyebrows shot up.

“You looked that good, eh Kate?” she asked with a grin. “I told you it was the perfect costume.”

“Yeah, yeah…” I grumbled. “I thought this was band practice, not the gossip column.” Anna, Jesse, and Chris laughed. I wrinkled my nose and stuck my tongue out at them. “You’re just jealous that your costumes sucked.”

“Oh?” Anna asked. “I heard that Chris’ zombie cheerleader costume went over quite well.” Dave snickered quietly and I hid a smile behind my hand. Chris had dressed up as a zombie cheerleader for Halloween. A FEMALE zombie cheerleader. It had been quite funny, to say the least.

“Hey, I’ll have you know that I was graced with many female companions Sunday night.” Chris said crossly.

“Only because they thought you were one of them, obviously.” Josh said, walking in. “So anyone have any new songs?”

“Ooo! Ooo!” Brad jumped up and down, waving his hand in the air. “Ooo! I don’t! I don’t!”

“Then why are you so excited?” Jesse asked.

“I don’t know!” Brad sounded like a middle school girl, and Anna pointed it out.

“Kate has a song.” I turned and glared at Dave.

“It’s not ready, yet, doofus!” I hissed at him, but Josh looked interested.

“Really? You have a song?”

“Well…” I shrugged. “I don’t have chords or anything, and I think the words need some work…”

“Sing it, then.” He said, looking excited to have a new song. I hesitated.

“C’mon, Kate!”

“Sing for us, please?” Everyone looked at me pleadingly, and finally I threw up my hands and gave in.

“Fine,” I said. “But you’ll probably regret it.” I took a deep breath and pictured the words in my head, then began singing.

“Today I'm trying to make it through,
You say you can help me and I know it's true.
But like Frodo I say that I'll go it alone;
I refuse to lay it down before your throne.

“Alone, by myself, isolated, I don't need help
Nothing can make me go
With you; more than one, us and we, two's twice the fun.
Solo is as solo does. I don't want help from you.

”Sometimes I feel it's all uphill;
It's boring as math, I want a thrill.
But still I won't ask for help today:
I'm all grown up now, I'll find my own way.

”Alone, by myself, isolated, I don't need help
Nothing can make me go
With you; more than one, us and we, two's twice the fun.
Solo is as solo does. I don't want help from you.

”I'm falling, breaking, cracking, shaking;
There's nothing more I can do.
But you can help me if I humbly
Ask you now. I don't know how
To make my life OK

”Alone, by myself, isolated, I need your help
I can't make it on my own
I need you; more than one, us and we, two's twice the fun.
Solo is as solo does. How could I live
Alone, by myself, isolated, I need your help
I can't make it on my own
I need you; more than one, us and we, two's twice the fun.
Solo is as solo does. How could I live without you?”

There was a moment of silence after I was done. There always was, when someone was introducing a new song, but I had never felt quite as nervous as I did during this pause. Any new song I had sung before (and there weren’t many) had been a joint project with at least one of the guys. This song, though, was all mine.

“So?” I asked finally. “What did you guys think?” No one said anything, but Mark turned on his keyboard and, humming, played a couple chords.

“Sing that first part again, would you?” he asked. I complied, and he fiddled with the chords, finding the perfect ones to play to complement the melody. He scribbled them down and showed them to Josh, who slowly began picking them out on his guitar. The two of them played a little, stopping now and then to argue a chord point, and a couple times asking me to hum the melody. The rest of us sat around, watching them and whispering quietly. Finally, Josh smiled and nodded.

“Ok, what do y’all think of it?” he asked the rest of the band.

“I think it’s good.” Jesse said, glancing over at me.

“It’s a little different than most of our other songs.” Brad said thoughtfully. “It’s sort of a nice break from the norm, you know?”

“Yeah. I like it.” Anna smiled. “I haven’t heard it since she was fiddling with the melody. It turned out nice, by the way, Kate.” I rolled my eyes. Anna was such a tell-all…that’s why I love her, though.

“Ok, so we want to do it?” Josh asked, and you could almost hear the rocks rattling in the heads of my fellow band members. “Right! First order of business, then, is—“

“Excuse me, are you kids Velvet Botox?” we turned simultaneously to look at the tall, sophisticated blonde in the back of the youth hall. She was wearing a very stylish business suit and was carrying a briefcase. We had no idea what she wanted, but it was obviously something important.

“Yes, we are.” Josh said finally, after being stunned into silence for a moment. “Can we help you, miss…”

“Franks. Helen Franks.” The blonde smiled and walked towards the stage. “I’m a collegue of Carl Wentworth’s. I believe you met him on Sunday?”

“Early Monday morning, actually, Miss Franks.” Josh said with a disarming smile. “But yes, we did meet him.”

“Please just call me Helen.” She said, all business.

“Yes ma’am, Miss Helen.” Josh saluted, and Anna and I giggled. Josh was obviously flirting with this young woman – whether or not she would flirt back remained to be seen. Helen raised an eyebrow, but refrained from commenting.

“I don’t suppose Carl told you what line of work he’s in, did he?” she asked, looking at the rest of us.

“No ma’am.” I answered. “He just said that he’d be contacting us soon.” Helen gave an exasperated sigh, reminding me of Anna when Chris and I would act up.

“How like him.” She murmured to herself, although we all heard her. “Well,” she added briskly, “I suppose I’ll have to tell you. Mr. Wentworth and I work for Sahib Records. It’s an up-and-coming record lable based in Orlando. Carl is a…” she seemed to search for the right word to use. “…a talent scout, I guess you would say. He finds new talent and guides them through recording their first album.”

Silence reigned in the youth hall. Helen looked at us with more than a little bit of scorn in her eyes, obviously thinking that we should have reacted differently.

“So…” Josh scratched his neck. “You’re telling us that Mr. Wentworth has…talent scouted us?”

“I wouldn’t put it that way precisely but…yes.” Helen opened her briefcase and extracted eight document envelopes and handed one to each of us. “This contains our contact information and the contract you would sign if you signed to our lable. You are free to take your time, call around, get a lawyer to look at everything and make sure it’s all right.” She smiled at us, her business demeanor dropping for a moment. “I heard you messing around a few minutes ago – I think you kids have some serious potential. Think it over, alright?” she turned and began to walk out of the youth hall.

“Wait!” Dave called after her. She stopped and turned. “Do we, er, have to get back to you by a certain date?” Helen shrugged.

“Well, before the new year would be nice, but we’re not requiring it.” She smiled again and left the building calling back over her shoulder, “Think about it!” before disappearing outside. We stood and gaped at the door, than at the envelopes in our hands, then at each other. Then, almost all at the same time, we began screaming with excitement.

“Oh my gosh!”

“A record deal?”

“Oh wow. Oh wow.”

“I’m gonna faint, oh my gosh!”

We didn’t know then that Helen had stopped just outside and was listening to our excited cries and smiling. We found out later, though.

“I think y’all were the most excited I’ve ever heard out of all the bands I’ve taken initial contracts to.” She told me later, after ‘The Incident’. But I’ll get to that soon enough. Back in the youth hall, Josh attempted to quiet us down.

“Guys? Guys, can we— Guys?” Josh whistled piercingly and we all jumped, our mouths closed for the moment. “Let’s not get too excited.” He cautioned. “We don’t know that this is all legit. I’ll have my dad take all of this to his lawyer tomorrow and check it out, alright? Until then, practice as usual, worship on Sunday and Wednesday, all the stuff we normally do, got it?”

“Sir, yes sir!” Chris saluted, bringing giddy laughs bubbling out of us. Josh tried a couple more times to quiet us down so we could rehearse, but finally just smiled.

“Alright, we can take today off. Mark, you and I can work on the chords for Kate’s song tomorrow afternoon, okay?” Mark nodded. “Fine, then, go! All of you!”

“Oh my gosh, a record deal!” I sighed happily as Chris, Anna, and I walked out to our cars. “I hope it’s legit, that would be so amazing!”

“Yeah, well let’s TRY not to get our hopes up, yet.” Anna said, grinning like an idiot.

“Sure, whatever Banana-brain.” Chris said.

“And who said YOU were allowed to call me ‘Banana-brain’?”

“Er…Kate?” he grinned hopefully at me. I just laughed and rolled my eyes.

“Well, this is my car.” I pointed out, unlocking the door. “See you two tomorrow!”

“Bye, Pooky!”

“See ya, Kate!”

~~~

“MOTHER!” I ran out of my room, a ruined diorama in my hand. “Mother, look what she did! I worked on this for four HOURS!” I tried not to cry – the diorama was due the next day and I now had to completely remake it because my stupid sister had ripped all my clay models out and smashed their heads. Mom looked at it and rolled her eyes.

“What is it?” she asked.

“It’s part of my English Lit project!” I cried mournfully. “It’s due tomorrow and it’s a whole 25% of the total grade and she ruined it!” she tried unsuccessfully not to smile. “Mother!” she shook her head and stopped smiling.

“Okay, I’ll talk to her.” She said.

“And don’t forget to get me a deadbolt as soon as possible!” I reminded her.

“A deadbolt?” she asked, confused. “Why in the wor—oh.” She rubbed her eyes. “Right. I’ll get on that tomorrow, alright sweetie?”

“Ok, mom. Where’s the clay?”

“In the craft cabinet. SHEILA!” Mom headed back to my sister’s room and I smiled happily as I formed new clay heads for my models. Vengence may be sweet, but deadbolts are sweeter.

Starbucks

2004-10-29T01:04:00.000-04:00

Chapter Four: Starbucks

“Well I honestly don’t think I can do it.” Anna sighed mournfully. “I’ve got college apps, and being student body Vice Pres…it’s just too much to handle.”

“But Anna, you have to stay with us!” I pleaded. “It wouldn’t be the same without you!” Anna shook her head.

“I really can’t, Kate.” She said. “Besides, they’ve never even heard me sing, since I wasn’t at the Halloween show.” Josh smiled sadly at her.

“We understand, Anna. We wish you could stay with us.” He patted her on the back.

“But you’d better stick with us for Sunday night worship.” Mark told her with mock sternness. She laughed and nodded.

“Of course. I couldn’t let Chris and Kate loose during worship with all those impressionable Middle Schoolers there!” the boys laughed, but I just bit my lip and tried not to look too disappointed. We were going to put out a CD, be an official copyrighted band, and Anna couldn’t be in it with us.

“So Anna’s out.” Josh said. “How about the rest of you?” Brad shook his head.

“I can’t, man. I’m transferring to NYU in January, remember?” he shrugged helplessly. Josh let out a huge sigh.

“Alright, so we’re down one singer and one guitarist. Is anyone else unable to commit to recording?”

“I can do it.”

“Me too.” The rest of us nodded our agreement – we could, and would, do this.

“Alright, then.” Josh smiled. “We’ll have a meeting with our parents and my dad’s lawyer on Saturday, so we can go over the contract and sign it and stuff.”

“You’re sure these people are legit?” Dave asked dubiously.

“As sure as it is humanly possible to be.” Josh answered. “Ok, well, meeting Saturday here at, say five?” there were nods all around. “Ok, and normal practice on Sunday afternoon. Same time, same station.”

“You look really good in that top, Kate.” Jesse commented as we all walked down the street to Cold Stone.

“Oh, you think so?” I asked brightly. “Anna helped me pick it. She told me that if I’m going to be in a professional band, I have to look like a girl at least PART of the time.” We laughed, and I looked at my watch. “Crap! I’ve gotta go!”

“Oh…alright.” Jesse sounded disappointed, but I brushed it aside.

“Tell Chris and Anna I had to go, would you?”

“Sure thing.” Jesse called as I sprinted back to my car.

~~~

“So I said, ‘Don’t talk about Coach that way!’ and he was all ‘Make me!’, and we got into this huge fight…”

I stifled a yawn as I sat in the Starbucks by my house, trying to put up with the guy across the table from me. Since the Halloween concert, I had actually begun wearing girly clothes, and it seemed like all the guys at school noticed. This latest was a starter on the football team – not that our football team was all that great. Personally, I was under the impression that this guy – Craig – had lost too many brain cells getting tackled.

“…And he tried to get me with a left hook…”

I turned my attention to other things. The newspaper the man next to us was reading declared something else about Bush winning the presidential election. Old news – the election had happened almost two weeks before. I glanced over Craig’s shoulder into the corner with the big arm chairs. There were four girls sitting there who looked about my age, maybe younger. They each had a laptop, a cup of coffee, and an assortment of sugary foods. They weren’t speaking, just typing away as if their lives depended on it. I thought at first that they were studying, but there were no books. Just the laptops. Tuning out Craig and his FACINATING tale of fistfights in the locker room, I started to listen to the girls as they began to stretch and talk, apparently taking a break from their work.

“Hey, Aub? What’s your word count?” The oldest-looking one, a red-head, asked.

“15k. You?” The girl wearing the fedora answered.

“15.2. I’ll bet I’ll still be ahead of you by the time we shut down for the night.”

“I’ll take you on that bet.”

“Me too,” added the sugar provider. “What’ll you bet?”

“Er…my tickets to Phantom?”

“Ack, don’t do that! What if you lose? You have to go to that with me!” The last girl, and most normal looking of the bunch, protested.

“Eh, you’re right.” The red-head pondered. “Two cups of coffee, then. Caffinee is more precious than anything during November.”

“Except maybe sugar.”

“Yeah, well you’ve got a point there…”

“Kate?” my attention snapped back to Craig, who was looking quite put out to say the least.

“Yes?” I asked, all innocence. “I’m sorry, I must have zoned out.”

“No kidding. I’ve been trying to get your attention for about five minutes!” Yeah, sure, pudding-head. “You’re just not interested, are you?” I looked Craig straight in the eye and smiled.

“You know, I’m really not. You’re not a bad guy, but I’m just not interested in doing…THIS.” I motioned to us. “It’s not my thing, really.”

“Well, ok then.” Craig shrugged. “Whatever.” He stood up and started to leave. “See you at school.”

“Hey, Craig?” he stopped. I smiled at him. “Good luck at the game tomorrow, huh?” he smiled his big, slightly idiotic jock smile.

“Hey, no problem, toots.”

“Don’t call me toots.”

“Right, sorry.”

I sighed and turned back to my coffee. The laptop girls were giggling amongst themselves, but obviously trying to write. They weren’t getting much work done, because the moment they grew silent, on of them would start laughing again, which set them all off. It made me think of me and Anna and Chris, and figured they must be pretty good friends. I shook my head and smiled, then left the Starbucks and headed home.

~~~

“I swear, Chris, a ladybug has more brains than this guy!” I exclaimed, laying on my bed with my music cranked up loud.

“Oh, he couldn’t have been THAT bad, Pooky!” Chris’ laugh echoed slightly tinny in the headset of my phone. The actual phone itself (one of the cordless variety) was clipped to my belt so I didn’t have to worry about holding it to my ear.

“Kate! Come fold the laundry please!” I rolled my eyes, silently mimicking my mom, and headed downstairs.

“Believe me, he was that bad.” I insisted as I pulled shirts out of the laundry basket and folded them with my “l337 ninj4 f0lding skillz”, as Chris had put it on IM one day. Thanks to a video I found online, I was able to fold a shirt perfectly in four seconds. “There were these four girls sitting behind him, right? And they were just typing. And talking about caffine and word counts. And THAT was more interesting that listening to Craig ramble on about his fist fights and how much he can bench.”

“Ouch, did he really talk about that?”

“Well I’m assuming so. I really wasn’t paying much attention.” I stacked the folded clothes according to owner and replaced them in the laundry basket, carrying it upstairs with me. “I swear, if another guy at school asks me if I’d like to have coffee, I think I’ll personally make sure they are castrized.” I heard a low gulp on the other end of the phone.

“Ow?”

“Oh, stop it, I’m joking and you know it.”

“True, but that doesn’t make the thought any less scary.”

“You’re such a wimp!”

“Yes, yes I am. But an uncastrized wimp.”

“Whatever.” I rolled my eyes and laughed. “Hey, you wanna go to Starbucks? See if the Laptop Girls are still there?”

“Er…sure, I guess.”

“I’m sure one of them would agree to go on a date with you if she could bring the laptop with.” I teased.

“Alright, that’s it! I’m not going!”

“I’ll see you outside in a sec. Get your shoes on.” I hung up and pulled my sneakers out of the closet, slipping them on over my pink and white checked socks. A minute or so later, I ran out of the house, making sure to close the door behind me, and grinned at Chris.

“Where you been, Pooky?” he asked as we started walking the two blocks to the coffee shop. “I’ve been waiting out here for hours!”

“Only because you insist on my wearing makeup at all times, Chrissy dear.” I answered, batting my mascara-less lashes. We both laughed – I never wore makeup if I could help it, and Chris could have cared less.

“So these girls were just sitting there typing?” he asked, coming back to the Laptop Girls.

“As far as I could see.” I answered. “And then they were talking about having 15k words and one of them was going to bet her tickets to Phantom of the Opera that she would have more words than anyone else by the time they left.”

“Hm…” Chris pondered that. “Did they have coffee and/or excessive amounts of sugar?” My eyebrows shot up.

“Why yes they did. How would you know?” I poked him. “C’mon, tell!”

“Well…” he grinned. “You remember that weird thing my sister does once a year, right?”

“You mean when she gets a new boyfriend?”

“No, silly. Although that was a good guess.” He winked. “She attempts to write a novel in a month.”

“Ooooh.” I nodded slowly. I remembered again the long month of November before Kayla went off to college. The late nights she kept, the insane amount of sugar and caffine she ingested, the laptop that was glued to her hip, and the ever-constant mumblings about her word count. “You think they’re doing the same thing?” Chris shrugged.

“I dunno; it’s just a hunch.” He peered in the window as we walked up to Starbucks. “Aw, looks like they’re gone.”

“Really?” I pouted and looked inside. Sure enough, the area they had spread across was now occupied by a couple of businessmen discussing something that was by all appearances very important. “Oh well, let’s get something to drink anyway.”

~~~

“Oh, Kate!” Anna looked me up and down disappointedly as I walked into homeroom. “Why are you back in Chris’ hand-me-downs again?”

“Because,” I retorted, “All those pretty clothes got me stuck at coffee with a severely mentally deficient jock yesterday.” I plopped my bookbag down at the desk next to her. “The only good thing that came from it was that I got a free coffee.” Anna sighed.

“You’re hopeless, Katy-did.”

“I know, Banana-brain. What’re you going to do about it?”

“Well…” Anna grinned mischieviously at me and I shook my head vehemently.

“Nuh-uh! No way, you can NOT give me a full out makeover! No!” I wrinkled my nose at the very thought.

“Not even for your first meeting with the lable?”

“Not even then.” I declared. Lowering my voice I added, “Anyway, we’re not even absolutely positive we’re going to sign, and I’d appreciate you keeping it quiet, huh?”

“Your secret’s safe with me.” Anna assured me. “Anyhow, it’s my secret too, you know.”

“True.” I conceded. “But still.”

“Still what?”

“I dunno.” I laughed. “It just seemed like the right thing to say at the time.” Anna rolled her eyes. “Oh, hey, d’you think you could give me a ride to the church on Sunday?”

“How come?”

“Eh, my dad needs to use my car. His is ‘in the shop’, apparently.” I crossed my eyes, showing what I thought of that. Anna laughed, just like I knew she would.

“Sure thing, Kate. But why can’t you get a ride with Chris?” she lowered her voice as the bell rang and the teacher started to call roll.

“Chris has been riding with me, because his car doesn’t work.” I whispered back. “So could you give him a ride, too?” I smiled hopefully. Anna nodded and raised her hand after hearing her name. “Thanks Anna, you’re a life saver.”

“What flavor?”

“Pineapple.”

Bad Dreams

2004-10-28T01:46:00.000-04:00

Chapter Five: Bad Dreams

“I’m going to be in a band.” I whispered to myself as I stared up at my ceiling. The glow from the clock and the streetlight outside were the only sources of light in my room. The clock read 2:27, but I still wasn’t tired. “I’m going to be in a bona fide, copyrighted, professionally produced band.” I rolled over and woke my puppy up. He yawned and peeked over my legs with a slightly confused look on his face. “Aw, I’m sorry, Chewie!” I picked up my little white ball of fluff and cuddled him. “But can you imagine, baby boy? I could be famous someday.” I laughed a little. “Yeah, ok, so it probably won’t happen. But I can always dream.” I yawned and my eyes drooped. “I can always dream.”

It was the most vivid dream I had ever had, and the funny thing was that I knew it was a dream. But it was like I was just watching what was happening – I couldn’t affect anything, even myself.

“Heya toots.” Jesse grinned at me, leaning on the table that we sat at. We were at a fancy dinner, like an awards ceremony, but I couldn’t remember what it was for.

“Hey yourself.” I answered saucily.

“After the awards, you wanna have some fun?” he grinned crookedly at me, and I thought distantly that we sounded like the hero and heroine of some old film noir.

“I just might, if you’re a good boy.” I sipped my water. The scene wavered a little, and Jesse was replaced by Chris and Josh, who were both dressed in tuxedos. I opened my mouth to say something, but they shushed me immediately.

“Listen, they’re about to announce the winners!” Chris pointed up to the stage. Some random guy in a white tux opened an envelope.

“And the winner is…Velvet Botox!” The room erupted into cheers, and we somehow made our way up onto the stage. We were famous, I realized, and smiled as the photographers snapped pictures of us again and again, their flashbulbs blinding me. I looked around at my fellow bandmates: Josh, holding our award and beaming proudly. Chris, jumping up and down like a little gir (not an odd occurance, actually). Mark posing for the cameras, and Jesse looking at me intensly.

“Wait, where’s Dave?” I asked. Jesse turned away. “Guys, we can’t accept the award without Dave! Where is he?” The people started to turn their backs on me, and the room grew foggy. “What about Dave! He has to be here! Guys? Chris, where’s Dave?” Chris had begun walking down an empty hallway, and I followed, noticing that as we walked, the light grew steadily dimmer. I shivered, but kept walking. “Chris?” I asked tentatively. He had stopped just ahead of me, and was standing perfectly still in the center of the hall. I slowly walked towards him, reaching my hand out to touch his shoulder. Just before I made contact, however, he reached up and grabbed my wrist, turning around and giving an inhuman scream. His face was inhuman, and his eyes were red. I found myself screaming, screaming, falling...screaming…

“Jesse, no!” I screamed and woke myself up. I lay still, panting, for a moment, realizing slowly that I had been dreaming. I was very grateful that my parents’ bedroom was at the OTHER end of the house. I shivered and felt around for Chewie. When I found him, I pulled him up under my chin and breathed in the smell of the pet shampoo the groomer had used on him the day before.

Soon, I fell asleep, never wondering why I’d screamed Jesse’s name instead of Chris’ when I woke up.

~~~

"When's your first recording session?" Anna asked over lunch the next day. I took a bite of my tuna sandwich and shrugged.

"Dunno. We have to meet with Mr. Wentworth and his boss first, I think. That's tonight. But I don't know when we'll actually start recording." I took another bite and was quiet for a moment. "I had a weird dream last night."

"Yeah?" Chris set his lunch tray down beside mine. "Do tell."

"Well, it was the band." I said. "And we were getting an award. Except that Dave wasn't there, and Jesse was hitting on me, and Chris went all Japanese-horror-movie-demon on me!" I screwed up my face, feeling as if I was forgetting something important. Chris, meanwhile, seemed to be choking on his mystery meat.

"You okay, Chris?" Anna asked, a worried frown flitting across her face. Chris nodded.

"Yeah." he said, coughing a little. "It's just when you mentioned Jesse hitting on you—“

“Are you saying that guys don’t hit on me?” I asked, slightly insulted. Chris’ eyes went wide and he shook his head.

“No! That’s not what I meant! It’s just…JESSE.” He took a bite of mystery meat and swallowed it with a grimace, washing it down with some fruit punch. “It just seems out of place, you know?”

“Yeah, I know.” My injured pride picked itself up and dusted itself off, sustaining no lasting bruises from its fall. I grinned at them. “So, didja see Ms. Excel’s shoes today?”

~~~

“SCARFY WRATH!” I chased Mark around Chris’ back yard, swinging my scarf at him. “You will feel my scarfy wrath, puny mortal!” he dodged around a flower bed and gained a few feet on me.

“Chris! Where’s her straight-jacket?” Mark squeaked. I continued to pursue him, but tripped over a bit of grass and went sprawling. Mark stopped running, and he and Chris laughed.

“Having balance problems, Pooky?” Chris giggled. Yes, he giggles, it’s quite funny. But back to the story. I picked myself back up and lunged at the unsuspecting Mark, who yelped and resumed running. It was to this scene – Chris sitting on the edge of the stage laughing his head off while I chased Mark around the yard with my scarf – that Josh, Dave, and Jesse returned from the pizza run.

“What in the world?” Josh stood in the doorway with two pizza boxes in his hand, looking bewildered. Dave stood just in front of him with a chip frozen on the way to his mouth. Jesse poked his head over Josh’s shoulder and raised his eyebrows.

“Well…this isn’t something you see everyday.” He commented off-handedly, and walked out, squeezing around Josh.

“I didn’t do anything!” Mark called out as he ran past.

“He did too!” I retorted as I followed close after. “Doom is upon you, Marcus! I’m gaining on you!”

“Are not!” he shouted back, then realized that he was in range of my scarf and employed evasive maneuvers.

“Mark told her that her scarf clashed with her hair.” Chris said, having calmed down sufficiently from his giggling fit. Jesse and Josh glanced at each other and burst out laughing. I stopped running and glared at them, much to Mark’s relief; he was getting quite worn out from running.

“Sorry, Kate,” Josh chuckled. “But it’s funny!”

“Well, if you feel THAT way...” I sniffed. Jesse set down the sodas he was carrying and ruffled my hair.

“Well, it’s certainly…different. I don’t think it clashes any worse than it did before, though.” He said, examining my new hair color. I had gone to get my hair cut and re-colored the evening before, and my hair was now vividly red-orange. This, of course, caused a bit of color clashing when I wore my pink scarf.

“Hey, I’m making a fashion statement!” I insisted, ducking into Chris’ kitchen to grab some ranch dressing for my pizza.

“No, you’re making a fashion mistake.” Mark called after me. I returned and flicked him with my scarf’s fringe as I walked past him.

“I’ll have you know that it’s no longer taboo to wear pink when you have red hair.” I pointed out.

“Yes, but I don’t think they were talking about neon orange-red hair and a bright pink scarf.” Jesse retorted. I stuck my tongue out at him and, when Josh mentioned the need to bless our food, bowed my head over the slice of pepperoni Chris had handed me.

“God, we thank you for this wonderfully…nutritious meal,” Josh said with a grin. “Please let it keep us energized during our uber-practice today, and keep it from making us too fat. Amen.”

“AMEN!” we all chorused, and dug into our food. I gleefully dipped my pizza into the ranch dressing I had retrieved from the kitchen – something I was not allowed to do at home, because it made my mom sick.

“How can you eat that?” Dave asked, wrinkling his nose at me. I raised my eyebrows and tried not to laugh.

“This coming from the guy who puts MAYONNAISE on his pizza?” Dave looked down at the slice of pizza he held, which did indeed have mayonnaise smeared over it.

“Oh, yeah.” He grinned and took a huge bite of the pizza-mayonnaise mess.

“Ewww!” we all groaned and looked away.

“Ok, so, anyway.” Josh purposely avoided looking in Dave’s direction. “We’re here today to eat pizza and discuss what songs we want to put on the CD.” He beamed proudly, and we all broke out into giddy smiles.

“How many songs do we get on the CD?” Chris asked. Josh pondered this for a moment.

“I’m not sure. I think it depends on the number of good songs we have, and the length of the songs and such.” He replied finally. “And it’s up to the record label, I believe.” We all nodded understanding.

“What songs should we absolutely have no matter what?” Jesse asked. It was a tough question, and we thought about it long and hard.

“’Feel the Flood’.” I said. “And ‘Runaway’.”

“Definitely ‘Solo Flight’.” Mark added with a grin directed at me. I blushed.

“Yes, we must copyright and publish Kate’s masterpiece!” Dave joked, but gave a thumbs up. “I say we put Kate on lead for that one, and ‘Runaway’.”

“Hey, now!” I protested. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I’m just backup, remember?”

“But you have the best voice for ‘Runaway’s range.” Jesse pointed out. “And ‘Solo Flight’ is your song.”

“Jesse’s got a point.” Josh said. “You do sing best on ‘Runaway’. But it’s really up to you if you want to sing lead.” I shrugged.

“I just don’t want to steal the spotlight or anything.” I mumbled. The guys all laughed.

“What do you think you did on Halloween, pray tell?” Chris asked, grinning. I ducked my head and muttered something unintelligible. This only caused the guys to laugh more.

“Ok, so we’ve got that settled at least.” Josh said. “Should we practice anything?”

“Probably ‘Runaway’, since Kate’s not used to singing lead.” Dave teased. I drew myself up; I’d show them I could sing lead just fine.

“Alright, let’s go.” I said. Josh just shook his head.

“Let’s try NOT to get compeditive, people.” He warned. “Ok, guys, get your instruments and the sound equipment. It’s time for a real practice.”

~~~

“I don’t know what to say!” Helen clapped as we all bowed dramatically. We had come to the studio for our first “recording” session, although it was mostly just trying songs out at this point. “That was really good. I think Mr. Wentworth will really like these songs.” She looked down at the papers we’d given her – lyrics and chord charts for all the songs, in case she should need them.

“Thank you very much, Miss Helen.” I said happily.

“And you kids wrote all these songs?” she asked.

“Yeah.” Josh nodded. “Usually we all sort of worked on them together, but ‘Solo Flight’ is Kate’s baby.”

“Shut up!” I hissed, poking Josh in the ribs. “Why do you keep harping on that?”

“Well, I must say I’m very impressed.” Helen said, and she looked it. “I really like your style. It’s fun and inspirational and ‘hard rockin’,” she discreetly struck a rock star pose, “ all at once.” We laughed, Chris and Jesse mimicking her pose. She swatted them with her folder. “Be nice, boys. I’m in charge here.”

“When will we get to start recording, Helen?” Josh asked, showing no signs of having noticed Chris and Jesse’s antics.

“Well, it’ll be a couple weeks at least.” She admitted. “We have to get all your proposed songs approved by Mr. Wentworth, and then you practice them over and over until we feel you’ve got them down perfectly.” She gave us an assuring smile. “But it shouldn’t be TOO long.”

“We get to choose our own songs, though, right?” Dave asked. “We don’t have to just do whatever songs you tell us to do?” Helen shook her head.

“No, David, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” She grinned happily. “But I don’t think we’ll have any problems. You kids have some really good songs. And a few really great songs, too.”

“Huzzah!” Chris cheered with a very fake British accent. “What a victory, old chaps! How about we go down to the pub and have some tea, wot?”

“Only if you bloody well shut up!” I retorted in an equally fake British accent. “Don’t you have better things to do than mock the Brits?”

“Yes.” He answered seriously. “I need to mock the Canadians.”

Deja Vu

2004-10-27T02:57:00.000-04:00

Chapter Six: Deja Vu

“I can’t believe this!” I groaned. “I worked so hard on that project!” I was really beginning to hate school. I had worked four hours on my diorama, not to mention fixing it after Sheila broke it, and at least that long on the paper to go with it, and what did I get? I got a “C”. Not even an “above average” to console me after all my hard work. A lousy “C”.

“It’s not THAT bad, Kate.” Anna insisted. “Casey only got a “B”, and he always gets the best grade in the class! He didn’t even get a ‘B+’!” She sighed and handed me half of her cookie. “it’s not THAT bad, is it?”

“Yes, it is that bad.” I insisted. “My mom is going to kill me for only getting a ‘C’. She’s going to say that I didn’t apply myself and that it’s because I was at band practice all week, even though I turned the project in LAST week.” I fiddled with my scarf which did clash with my hair, I had accepted. But I wore it anyway. “I need chocolate.”

“You need coffee, kiddo.” Anna insisted. “And I know exactly where to get it!”

“Um…Starbucks?”

“No! Blue Moon Coffee.” Anna beamed proudly. I quirked an eyebrow at her.

“Never heard of it.”

“Well, that’s about to change. Come on!” She literally dragged me to her car and sped off towards the nearby college. Blue Moon Coffee was nestled in between a used bookstore and a stationary store. It was a quaint, bohemian sort of place that didn’t belong in Florida.

And their Café Mocha was to die for.

“I’m never going to any other coffee shop.” I declared as I nursed my large mocha in the corner of the little shop. Anna laughed.

“I told you it was good!”

“Yes, you did.” I agreed solemnly. “Now Starbucks means nothing to me. It is all about the Blue Moon.”

“Well, it’s still too out of the way for daily use.” She pointed out, eliciting a sigh from me. “But we should come here once a week or something to talk, you think?”

“Don’t we talk anyway?” I asked, confused.

“Without Chris, silly.” She giggled. “You know – girl talk.”

“Ah!” I exclaimed, understanding sweeping over me. “We must meet to discuss the various attractive males that have passed through our lives and how much we hate being women at ‘that time of month’, eh? Genius! Absolute genius!” We laughed rather hard, and I took another sip of my mocha. “Wow, I’m getting really wired!”

“Me too.” Anna admitted, looking rather hyper. “I guess it’s stronger than Starbucks.”

“Indeed. It’s probably a smart thing that we’re only going to come here once a week.”

“Totally!” We laughed at ourselves and enjoyed each other’s company, staying at the little coffee shop until it began to grow dark outside.

~~~

I had the dream again that night. I wasn’t sure whether it meant something or whether it was just a result of too much sugar and caffeine. I woke up screaming again, except that this time I was screaming Anna’s name. I panted and lay back on my pillows, staring up at the ceiling, going over the dream again in my mind. It had been almost the same as before, with the ‘film noir’ thing going on with Jesse and Dave being missing. But this time it was Anna who I followed down the hall. She had turned a corner, and I couldn’t see her anymore, all there was in the hallway was Chris standing in the middle. I knew, in the back of my mind, what would happen if I tried to talk to Chris, but I was unable to control what I did in the dream. Once again I reached for Chris’ shoulder, once again he turned around with a scream and scared the heck out of me. But just before I woke up, I had seen an image of Anna curled up in a corner, decaying and dead.

“I’ve been watching too many horror movies.” I muttered and got up. The clock said 3:30 am, which sucked. Thankfully, it was a Saturday, meaning I had no school and no obligations, so I could sleep in as late as I wanted to. I grabbed my laptop off the desk and sat down cross legged on my bed, the laptop on, well, my lap.

I logged onto my AIM account and looked to see if anyone was on. Strangely enough, ANNA was online. I saw her name and felt shivers go up and down my spine.

“I had a dream about you.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah. Well not about you exactly. But you were in it.”

“Do tell! No, wait, turn on your mic first, okie? I feel like talking, not typing.”

“Sure thing.” I plugged my headset/microphone into the computer and started up voice chat. “You there?” I asked.

“Yeah, I’m here.” Anna’s voice crackled in my ear. “So I was in your dream?”

“Yeah. It was really creepy.” I gave a little laugh. “You were walking down a hallway, and then you were gone and it was just Chris, like that dream last week, and you were…dead.”

“Yikes…that really IS creepy.” She took a deep breath. “Good thing it’s just a dream, huh?”

“Yeah.” I smiled, even though she couldn’t see me. “I think I’ve been watching too many scary movies.”

“That’s always possible.”

“So, hey, what’re you doing up this late?” I asked curiously.

“Oh…” Anna’s voice was hesitant, as if she didn’t want to answer. “Well…I was just getting on to talk to my dad.”

“Oh.” I was quiet for a moment. Anna’s dad had left her and her mom when she was little, and traveled all over the world. Thankfully, he was faithful in sending child support, and he and Anna’s mom had never gotten a divorce, but it was hard for Anna to not get to have her dad around. “How’s he doing?” I asked tentatively.

“Good.” She said, sounding more cheerful. “He’s in Ireland right now. Taking pictures for the tourist beaureau or something.”

“Well, that sounds fun!”

“Yeah. He said he’s been taking some pictures just for me, and he’ll send them in time for Christmas at the latest.” She sighed and was silent for a bit. “I just want HIM for Christmas, you know?”

“I know, Anna.” I said softly. “I know.”

“Well, I’d better get to bed.” She said briskly, sounding as if she had just repressed some feeling of insecurity. “I’ve got to go to a car wash tomorrow morning to raise money for the prom decorations.”

“G’night, Banana-brain.” I unplugged my headset and turned my computer off, the memories of my nightmare fading already. I curled up with Chewie under my chin like always and drifted off to dreamland.

~~~

“Well, those are some good songs, I must say.” Mr. Wentworth said after we’d played a few of our songs for him. He looked down at his lyrics sheet. “Now, who sings lead on these songs?”

“Josh does, sir.” Mark piped up. “Except on the ones we marked with stars. Kate sings those.”

“Uh-huh…” Mr. Wentworth looked over the papers with a frown. “There’s only two?”

“Yes sir.” Josh answered, looking perplexed. “Kate’s my backup. We gave her those two because she sounds better on them than I do.”

“Ah, I see.” Mr. Wentworth nodded, but I somehow got the feeling that he didn’t see at all. “Josh, have you ever considered perhaps giving Kate more songs to sing lead on?”

“Pardon me sir, but I’m not a lead!” I broke in. “I’m a backup singer, and I’m happy with that.” Mr. Wentworth clucked his tounge, reminding me suddenly of my grandmother..

“Tsk, tsk, Kate! You shouldn’t be happy staying in the background!” he turned to Josh. “I think we should make Kate a little more prominent. Give her more songs to sing, put her out for the people to see.”

“Why’s that sir?” Josh asked, a curious frown on his face. Mr. Wentworth smiled condescendingly.

“Why, because she’s the only girl in the group, of course!” he laughed. “She’s pretty and spunky, and people are going to be drawn to her. Guys will wonder how you boys got so lucky to be in a band with her, and girls will wonder how she got so lucky to be in a band with all of you.”

“But that’s not what we’re about.” Chris said, sounding worried. “We want to get our music out there; let people hear about God.”

“And you WILL, Christopher.” Mr. Wentworth said soothingly. “But you’ll get a much larger following if you make it obvious that this is a band with one girl and five boys. It’s such an odd mix, people will want to hear you, you see?” Chris nodded, but still looked a bit uneasy. Jesse and Josh had similar expressions, and Dave didn’t seem to be paying too much attention. Mark just looked thoughtful.

“Well, we’ll certainly think about it, sir.” Josh said finally. “But we’ll have to discuss it. And it ultimately lays with Kate – we don’t want to make her do something she’s uncomfortable doing.”

“Of course, of course.” Mr. Wentworth agreed. “But I think she’s a wonderful person to act as the ‘face of Velvet Botox’, as it were.” He chuckled. “I wonder if you saw the heads turn at the Halloween concert?”

“No, sir.” Jesse answered, straight-faced. “We were too busy fighting off the ninjas.”

“And the pirates.” I added. Mr. Wentworth’s eyebrows shot up.

“Ah, well, then I suppose that’s…er…understandable. Alright, just see Helen about scheduling the next meeting, and I’ll see you in a few days.” He hurridly excused himself and bustled back to his office. When we were sure he was out of earshot, we all burst out laughing.

“Did you see the look on his face?” I shrieked quietly. Or at least, as quietly as it is possible to shriek.

“That was priceless!” Dave agreed between laughs. “I think he thought we were high on something!”

“Or drunk!” Chris giggled insanely. The sound of his giggles set us all off again, and we were still laughing when Helen came in. She stood watching us silently for a moment, blinking slowly.

“I don’t think I want to know.” She said finally. That made us laugh even harder. It was a good 15 minutes before we were calmed down enough to schedule our next meeting.

“Two days hence, we shall be here at the fourth watch of the after-noon.” I said, bowing dramatically, as if I were a Shakespearian actor.

“Yes, four o’clock two days from now. That makes it Monday, alright?” Helen reiterated, making sure we weren’t so hyper that we couldn’t pay attention. Josh saluted.

“Ma’am, yes ma’am!” he said with military bruskness. Helen just laughed a little and rolled her eyes.

“Alright, kids, off you go. Have fun this afternoon, and don’t have too much sugar!” she shouted the last bit as we had already taken off down the hallway.

Unfortunately, we quickly got lost, having followed Josh, who had absolutely NO sense of direction. We looked down numerous hallways and still couldn't find the way out. Then we passed one hallway that made me shiver.

It was the hallway from my dreams.

It was the weirdest feeling of deja vu as I looked down the hall, half expecting to see Chris standing there right in the center, waiting for me to come up and tap his shoulder. But no, Chris was standing next to me, on the opposite side of the hallway.

"Hey guys, I think I found the exit!" Jesse called from a few yards away. Everyone started moving towards him, but I stood, just staring down the empty hallway, as if waiting for Chris to appear there.

"Kate?" I felt a hand on my shoulder and jumped involuntarily and whirled around to face my opponent. It was only Mark. "You have to much coffee this morning?" he joshed. "You seem a bit jumpy."

"No," I said, glancing one last time down the hallway. "No, I'm fine. Let's go."

Late Nights

2004-10-26T01:06:00.000-04:00

Chapter Seven: Late Nights

“This is surprisingly boring.” Josh proclaimed for what seemed like the millionth time.. We were sitting in the sound room, looking into the recording room where Jesse was tapping continually on one of the cymbals on his drum kit. I knew now why they had scheduled our recording for a half-day of school – we had literally been at the studio for just over four hours, and they were STILL getting the drum microphones calibrated. I glanced around at our group. Dave, obviously, was sitting alone in the other room banging wearily on the last of the things that needed microphoned. Mark was in one corner with his gameboy, playing some game – possibly Pokemon. I had one earbud of my headphones in, blasting This Day On. Josh was slumped over the control board, staring blankly in front of him. Chris…well Chris was curled up in the corner fast asleep.

“And we’re done!” The producer, I think his name was Merrit (the ever so cool), shoved his chair back and grinned at us. The sound engineer smiled smugly, looking pleased with his work.

“Thank you, God.” Mark looked up and folded his hands. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“Alright, time to do a click track.” Merrit (the ever so cool) said, rubbing his hands together.

“A what track?” I asked, yawning and stretching. Josh rolled his eyes.

“Were you not listening for the past four hours?”

“Yes. To drumming.”

“It’s alright.” Merrit (the ever so cool) laughed. I liked this guy already – he was fun and funny. And not too old or formal. He turned to me and explained. “A click track is a track we’re going to record with all of you kids playing, like you were performing. Then we’ll send you in to record your parts one at a time, and you’ll play along to the click track. Then we’ll delete it.”

“Ah.” I nodded tiredly. “Is that why you had us bring our sleeping bags?” I joked. Merrit (the ever so cool) nodded solemnly.

“Yes, and why you had to get your parents to sign a permission slip.” He added.

“Ok, well.” Josh grinned and stood up. “Someone wake Chris up and let’s do that click track!”

~~~

The click track was fun. We got to hear ourselves play and laugh about all the stupid mistakes we made. It was literally hours later, however by the time I got to record. Our first recorded song was ‘Runaway’, because it had been so well received everywhere we went, and I had to sing lead, per the band’s decision. Jesse recorded the drums first, and was followed by Chris’ bass, Mark’s keys, and Dave’s guitar. Josh had a double session – recording his guitar and then the backup vocals. By the time it was my turn…well let’s just say that Friday had come and gone.

“Kate. Hey, Kate.” Mark was shaking me gently. I flailed slightly and woke up, having fallen asleep on the couch during Mark’s recording session.

“Oh, is it my turn, then?” I asked. I was startled by the appearance of a mug of something hot in front of me. I looked up the arm that held it out into Merrit (the ever so cool)’s tired but alert face.

“Yes, it’s your turn.” He said. “We could wait until next time if you want. Drink your tea.”

“Yessir.” I yawned, taking a sip. It was herbal tea of some sort, and not too hot, so I took a bigger sip. “No,” I said finally, “I don’t want to wait. Might as well get it over with, huh?” I managed a weary smile. Merrit (the ever so cool) nodded.

“Tough girl. Alright, head into the ‘isolation booth’ over here.” He directed me to the little recording booth with a stool and a microphone. I sat down on the stool and waved at Josh through the window. I put the headphones on, one ear uncovered, and waited for instructions. I saw Merrit (the ever so cool) lean over to the mic in the sound room and heard his voice in my ear. “Ok, Kate, now do you need to warm up or anything?” I shook my head. “Ok, we’re going to play the click track, and you just sing along, ok? We’ll work on perfecting it after the first take.” I nodded and took a deep breath, sipping from the water bottle someone had handed me as I went in. The music started and I sang.

(((Insert Lyrics to ‘Runaway’)))

I grimaced as I finished – my voice was scratchy and tired, and I botched a couple of lines, and had to wait silently for a moment after the song ended.

“Alright.” Merrit (the ever so cool) turned his mic on. “That was good, considering it’s late and you just woke up.” He leaned over to the engineer and I heard Chris’ voice in the background, telling one of our moms that I was recording RIGHT NOW. “Alright, let’s go through that again, and this time we’re cleaning it up.”

~~~

“It was SOOOO boring!” I groaned, yawning widely. It was Sunday morning, and I was STILL out of energy from the Friday night recording session.

“Yeah? That sucks.” Anna patted my back. “But did you get a copy of it?”

“No, not yet. They have to put all the layers together and mix them just right. I’ll let you know when it comes, ok?”

“Cool, thanks!” Anna sighed. “I wish I could do it. Even if it IS boring.” I laughed.

“It’s pretty fun, actually.” I admitted, yawning and walking slowly away from the church. “Where shall we go for lunch?”

“I say we go to Estella’s on Davis Island.” Anna said. “Or Algusto.”

“Have a craving for Mexican, do we?” I asked cheekily. “What if I want something else?”

“Girls, we’re going to Westshore Pizza.” Chris draped his arms over our shoulders, walking between us. Anna rolled her eyes.

“Hi Chris. I don’t believe you were invited?”

“Aw, did you hear that, Jes?” he called behind us. “We aren’t invited!”

“Oh, the agony of rejection!” Jesse sobbed dramatically as he followed the three of us to Anna’s car. “Please, say you want me with you! Please don’t push me out!” Now I rolled my eyes.

“Whatever, just get in the car.” Anna said finally. “But Kate gets shotgun.”

“Fair enough!” Jesse grinned and hopped into the back of Anna’s Volvo. Chris climbed in after him. “To Westshore!” the chorused as Anna started the car. She looked at me, silently asking for my vote. I sighed resignedly.

“To Westshore.” I echoed. As I ate my pizza not twenty minutes late, I recalled that there was nothing better than good pizza, and that any time was a good time for having pizza, especially Westshore Pizza.

“So I think I sucked royally!” Chris declared halfway through lunch. “I messed up so many times, I don’t know if I got even one clean take.”

“Please!” I laughed. “You have nothing on my suckiness! You were more awake, and you played the bass line. I had to actually SING it! Well!” I shook my pizza at him. “You can’t beat that, not yet. I recorded for three hours before I got a clean take!”

“How long did you record, Chris?” Anna asked curiously.

“Er…45 minutes.” He grinned sheepishly at me and Jesse. Jesse sighed.

“I never want to have to microphone the drumset ever again.” He told us. “Never ever.”

“At least, until the next session, eh?” Chris elbowed him good-naturedly.

“Well, yeah.” Jesse admitted. “Anyway, Kate, you did great – the song’ll be a hit, I know it!” I snorted.

“Whatever! At least, not because of MY voice.” It was preposterous to think that my voice would help give us a hit. I couldn’t hardly carry a tune on that early Saturday morning. It was NOT good.

“Well I think y’all should stop saying how much you suck and try to improve it!” Anna said cheerfully. I laughed a bit derisively.

“Sure, Anna. Why don’t you try sitting in a studio for over twelve hours listening to each person play their part over and over and over. For over twelve hours.” I sneered. “THEN try being cheerful about your talents.” Anna’s face fell, and I felt terrible for snapping at her. Jesse and Chris were looking at me with confusion on their faces. I wanted to apologise, but my stubborn streak kicked in. “I want to go home now.” I declared, standing up and tossing my pizza crust away. The crusts are my favorite part.

“Kate? What’s wrong?” Chris came up behind me and spoke softly.

“Nothing’s wrong.” I snapped. “I just want to go home.” Chris blinked, and looked like he wanted to say something, but he bit his tongue.

“Let’s go home, Anna.” He said, his eyes still on me. We all piled into Anna’s car again, but the atmosphere was much colder. No one spoke, and the radio seemed to fall flat in the icy silence between us. When Anna pulled up in front of my house, I climbed out and slammed the door, walking off without looking back. Chris thanked her and waved as she drove off. He then caught up with me – his long legs quickly outdistancing mine – and grabbed my wrist. It unexpectedly brought back a flash of memory of my nightmare, Chris with an inhuman grimace and red eyes.

“What the hell was that?” he asked angrily.

“What was what?” I asked coldly.

“That! The whole thing with Anna. She was just trying to help!” I jerked my hand out of his and stalked back towards my house. “Hey! I’m not finished yet!” He cut in front of me, blocking my progress.

“Get out of my way!” I shouted and glowered at him. He only shook his head.

“No!” he shouted back. “Look, Pooky,” he said more gently, “You need to chill. I understand that you’re tired, but this really isn’t like you.” I glared at him for a moment, then sighed, letting my face fall.

“I know.” I said softly. “It’s just...I don’t know.” I shook my head. “I’m stressed and tired and I’ve been having those insane nightmares.” I shrugged. “No excuse, but that’s all I can pinpoint for causes.”

“It’s okay.” Chris insisted. “But you need to call Anna and apologize.” I paused for a minute, then nodded.

“Yeah. Yeah, I will. I’ll go call her, then,” I thought about my options. “I’m going to take a nap.” Chris laughed.

“Okay, you do that. I’ll see you later.” He turned and headed towards his house. I shot him a half-grin.

“See you, Chris.” I went inside and upstairs, grabbing the phone off its cradle as I passed it. I unlocked my door (Mom had followed through with her promise of a deadbolt) and entered, locking it behind me. I looked long and hard at the phone in my hand, then tossed it on my bed and turned my CD player on. Bethany Dillon’s voice soared, and I felt a small twinge of envy for the 15-year-old singer. But it passed quickly and I found myself cleaning my desk up, doing anything so I wouldn’t have to turn around and face the phone lying on my bed waiting for me.

I hummed along to the songs on Bethany’s CD as they came randomly, even singing to some of them. When one track with a very Celtic-sounding opener starting, I found myself laughing and dancing, caught up in the greatness that was gone. I spun in circles, laughing out loud and thinking that it was good that I was home alone. Then I froze: the phone had caught my eye. I felt an overwhelming guilt wash over me. I picked it up and slowly dialed Anna’s number. Even as the phone rang, I held it in front of me, staring at it as if it had suddenly come to life and sprouted legs.

“Hello?” I heard Anna’s voice faintly from the handset and panicked, hanging up on her and throwing the phone onto my bed. I began furiously going through my desk drawers, and I was just throwing something behind me in the general direction of the wastebasket when the phone rang. I picked it up and watched the display blink “Boudreaux Anna” a few times before taking a deep breath and answering.

“Hello, Kate Leighan’s phone.”

“Hey, it’s me,” Anna’s voice scratched across the phone lines. “Did…did you just call me?” I opened my mouth, about to say something along the lines of ‘No, why do you ask’ when I realized that it was pointless lying to my best friend, especially when I was calling to apologize.

“Yeah.” I scratched my arm and plugged my headset in for hands-free conversation. “I, um…I wanted to apologize. For snapping at you earlier.”

“Oh. It’s okay.” Anna’s cheerfulness meter went way back up, judging by the sound of her voice. “You’re tired and kind of stressed. I know you don’t really mean it, anyway.”

“That’s no excuse.” I stated. “I had no right to be so rude to you.” I opened my laptop and brought it out of sleep mode, signing on to AIM as soon as everything was open again. “Next time I do that, just kick me, will you? Or punch me?” Anna’s laugh sounded tinny in my headset.

“How about I just remind you not to?”

“That would work, I guess.” I agreed reluctantly. “Hey, are you on invis mode?”

“No, I’m not on messenger yet, you web-obsessed freak!” she laughed. “Gimme a sec and I’ll be on, okie?”

“Okie.” I replied. “I’ll get off the phone, then.”

“M’kay.” I grinned as a little window popped up on my computer screen.

“It’s almost as good as hearing ‘You’ve got mail’.” I sighed dreamily.

“Hanging up now.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Are you positive?”

“Yes, I’m hanging up, Kate.” There was a moment of silence.

“Why haven’t you hung up yet?”

“Shut up!”

“Would you like me to hang up first?”

“No, I can hang up first just fine!”

“Oh, I’m not so sure.”

“Why not?”

“Poor ickle Anna, can’t hang up the pho—“

Click. I grinned as the dial tone started and hung up my phone, answering Anna’s question about English Lit homework in the messenger window.

I love friendship traditions.

The Laptop Girls Returneth

2004-10-25T02:27:00.000-04:00

Chapter Eight: The Laptop Girls Returneth

It was a dark and stormy night. The lightning flashed outside, and thunder crackled, resonating in my very bones.

Well, actually, it was a relatively small storm, and I couldn’t hear or see the thunder/lightning because I was in the isolation booth, recording vocals yet again. Thankfully we were recording a pretty simple song – the melody was catchy and the words easy to learn; it had, after all, been written as a sort of “concert singalong”. I was made even more cheerful by the fact that I was only singing backup on this song, and therefore would be done soon. Obviously we’d all wait for Josh to finish recording the lead part, but it would be nice to nap while we waited.

“That was great, Kissme.” Merrit (the ever so cool) said over the microphone. “I think one more take and we should be done.” I nodded, a smile spreading over my face, partially from the funny nickname and partially because I would be so bloody glad to be done with the song. We had had quite a day – five o’clock on a Saturday morning, and we were at the studio. Thankfully, no one minded if we came in sweats or, in my case, pajamas and a sweatshirt.

I must say at this point that people who spend huge amounts of time together under stressful circumstances (preferably with caffeine, sugar, and sleep deprivation involved) tend to either hate each other or become an insanely close-knit group. Our group had gone the route of the latter, and one discussion during the mid-morning breakfast break (when everyone was resting) ended up dubbing me Kissme Kate, after the musical of the same name. For the remainder of the day and evening, then, everyone but Chris had called me Kissme. Chris had continued to call me Pooky.

“Kate?” an unexpected voice came through my headphones. “Kate, it’s Helen.”

“Ah, hello.” I said, as if I weren’t surprised by the sudden appearance of the nice (if rather brusque and blunt) young woman. “How’re you?”

“I’m doing fine.” Helen answered. There was a pause, and I could faintly hear Josh’s voice in the background. “Kate, there’s been a change in plans.” Helen said finally.

“What?” I frowned, confused. I had been up and doing nothing for so long that my brain was incapable of functioning. I could sing my part and make comments that weren’t funny but seemed to be; that was the extent of my abilities. Josh stood up and leaned over to the mic.

“Hey, Kissme.” He said. His voice was too calm – he was about to say something I did not want to hear, and I knew it. “Um…Mr. Wentworth and his boss sent word down…” I didn’t have to see him to know that he had glanced at Helen. “They want you to do the vocals on this song.”

“What?” I screeched, and I could hear the startled yells coming through my headphones. I took them off and went to the door, going into the sound room. “What do you mean, they want me to do the vocals?” I asked Josh indignantly. He shrugged.

“Just that, kiddo.” He said. “They…’strongly suggested putting you on the majority of lead vocals’.” He sighed. I looked to Helen for confirmation.

“Yes, it’s true.” She nodded. “They think that you’ll have a better chance of selling records if you’re out front with vocals and such.” I balked. That didn’t make any sense to me, and I said as much. “Well, it’s ultimately up to you.” Helen said. “I don’t know how carefully you went over your contracts, but there’s a clause in it that says you’re allowed to record whatever songs you wish in any way you wish. So Carl can’t drop you for wanting to keep Josh at the forefront.” She looked from me to all the other band members, who were now awake and serious. “It’s possible that you will do better, popularity-wise, if Kate is the ‘face of Velvet Botox’, as it were. But it’s up to you – it doesn’t have to be about popularity.” She fell silent, and one by one the members of the band turned to Josh.

“Well, I can’t deny that it would be really nice to have a wide fan base.” He said slowly. “But putting Kissme on lead all the time won’t guarantee that. Then again, it could really help get our songs and vision out to more people. The idea of a girl leading a guy’s band is sort of…a romantic picture of a band.” He stopped and gathered his thoughts from the various pastures in which they had been grazing. “It seems to me that it all comes down to what this is about. I’m perfectly fine with Kissme being the ‘face of VB’,” he air-quoted, bringing a smile from Helen, “But if any of y’all want to keep me on lead instead…” he gestured widely, and came up with nothing. There was a long silence.

“I say we go for it.” Dave said finally. “Anyway, if, and I do mean if because I’m not getting my hopes up, the CD does well enough to warrant a second CD, we can always go back towards Josh on lead if we want. Split it up about evenly and all that.” The guys nodded agreement. Josh leaned back in his chair.

“Ok, so it’s settled, then?”

“No.” Jesse shook his head.

“What’s wrong, Jes?” Chris asked curiously. Jesse grinned crookedly at me.

“We need to ask Kissme if she WANTS to, don’t we?”

“Blazing saddles! We had forgotten!” Mark put a hand to his head. “What shall I do with myself?” He kneeled dramatically before me and took my hand. I snorted slightly with repressed laughter, my shoulders shaking. “Milady, wouldst thou please do me the honor of grantingeth me forgivenesseth? Please…eth?” he added for good measure, and proceeded to ‘make out’ with the back of my hand. I burst into peals of laughter and nodded at Josh.

“I’ll take that as a yes, eh?” he asked, a smile spreading over his face. I nodded and squealed as Mark and Chris took it upon themselves to tickle me to death. Helen’s eyebrows shot up, but she had a smile hovering at her lips. Merrit (the ever so cool) and the rest just laughed and cheered.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it, then.” Helen said, shooting a glance at Merrit (the ever so cool), who saluted smartly and attempted to call us to order.

“Ok, let’s get back to work. You don’t want to get on her bad side.” He grumbled good-naturedly as Helen walked out.

“I heard that!” she retorted. “Don’t make me tell mom.” She winked and was gone.

“What did THAT mean?” Dave asked, popping a jellybean into his mouth. Merrit (the ever so cool) shrugged.

“Oh, c’mon, Mer!” we prodded, knudged, and poked (verbally and physically), trying to get information out of our producer. Finally he gave in.

“Alright, alright!” he laughed. “Helen’s my big sister.” He admitted. We gaped.

“No way!” I gasped. “Does that mean you talk about us and stuff? Do you share a house?”

“Woah, one at a time, please?” Merrit (the ever so cool) held up his hands in defeat. “First, of course we talk about you. We talk about everyone, including Dusty over there.” He pointed at the sound engineer, who simply raised an inquiring eyebrow. “And second,” Merrit (the ever so cool) continued, ignoring Dusty, “No, we do not share a house.” He paused a beat. “We share an apartment.”

“Cool!”

“Hey maybe you should give Josh Helen’s number!”

“Or just his number. Since it’s the same and all.”

“But that makes them sound gay!”

“CHILDREN!” Josh bellowed. We quieted down very quickly. He muttered something that might have been “when did my personal life become a topic of general conversation” or might have been “Dear God, why????” with the addition of curses and hexes in at least four otherworldly languages.

I was betting on the first one.

“Okay, let’s get back to recording, huh?” Merrit (the ever so cool) asked, bringing us back to the task at hand. “Now, Kissme, can you record any more tonight?”

“Sure thing.” I said. “But I need another water bottle – my mouth’s a little dry.”

“Over there in the cooler.” Josh pointed, and I grabbed one, drinking half of it down immediately. On a second thought,. I grabbed another two bottles to take in with me so I didn’t have to worry about running out.

“So, are we going to record Josh on backup eventually?” I asked as I headed for the isolation booth. Merrit (the ever so cool) shook his head.

“Not for this song. Kids, ‘Going On’ will be your first foray into layering vocals of the same person.” He said proudly, as if speaking to a class of kindergarteners.

“What?” Jesse asked sleepily.

“Basically, when you get this track,” Merrit (the ever so cool) explained, “You’ll hear Kissme,” he gestured to me, “Singing harmony with Kissme.”

“Oh! So you’re just taking the two recordings and playing them at the same time, giving the impression that they were recorded at the same time!” Chris’ face lit up. “I get it all now!” I shook my head. I knew Chris was very smart, but sometimes I wondered.

“Alright, so I’m going in.” I said loudly.”

“Okay, see ya.” Dusty chuckled from his hunched position over the soundboards. I sat back on the stool and put the headphones over one ear, taking one last sip of water from my water bottle.

“We’ve got a lot to do.” I heard Merrit (the ever so cool) talking in my headphones.

“Well, then.” I replied, smiling coyly at him. “I suppose we’d better get working, shouldn’t we.”

“Right-o Kissme.” He shot me an exaggerated wink. “Let’s get to it!”

~~~

“I don’t understand why we have to do this.” Mark sighed as we walked into the radio station.

“They got ‘Runaway’ mixed and out to the local stations.” Chris explained. “And they are premiering it today. And we will be there. And we will speak a bit, and people will listen to the song over and over again and we’ll be famous.”

“Ah.” Mark raised an eyebrow. “That makes it all so much clearer.”

“Get a hold on yourself!” I smacked his arm. “This is no time to be snarky.”

“I do apologize, milady.” He bowed.

“Oh, there you are!” Helen bustled forward from the doorway of the radio station where she had been waiting anxiously (so it seemed). “You’re a bit late, we’ll have to hurry.” She hustled us into the station and briefed us on proper radio etiquette as we walked. “Don’t talk unless the DJ gives you the nod, and don’t ramble – keep answers short and sweet. And don’t all of you try to talk at once. And not TOO many insults.” She stopped in front of a door to a sound room and peeked in the small window. Apparently she was given the go ahead, because she opened the door and ushered us in. “Ok, here they are, Sandy.” She handed us over to the DJ. “Guys, this is Sandy. Introduce yourselves quickly and sit down on those stools.”

“Yes ma’am!” Dave saluted and sat down. “I’m Dave, by the way.” He said, shaking hands with Sandy the DJ.

“I’m Sandy.” Sandy replied. He was a cheerful guy and smiled at each of us as we introduced ourselves. “Ok, just hang tight and be quiet for a minute.” He pushed a couple buttons and spoke into his microphone. “Hey, that was Simple Plan. Stay tuned, we’ve got R.E.M. and Hoobastank coming up next!” he pushed a couple more buttons, and the sounds of “It’s the End of the World as we Know it” came faintly from a speaker in the corner. “Ok, so I’m going to ask you a couple questions about yourselves as a band, and then Kate about being the only girl, and we’ll play your song a couple times about fifteen minutes apart, and people will call in and say what they think. You kids up to that?” we nodded.

“Bring it on.” Jesse declared.

“Ok. I’m going to turn the mic on and record you right now while these songs play, and we’ll play it back at the next break. Hang on for just a moment…” he pushed a button and nodded to us. “Hey, this is your daily DJ Sandy here, and I’m in the studio hanging out with an up and coming local band called Velvet Botox.” He gave a little nod and we awkwardly said “Hey” or “How’s it going?”. “Now these guys are in the middle of recording a CD, and we’re going to be premiering their first single in just a few minutes, but first we’re going to get to hear from the band. Now, Josh is the lead guitarist; Josh, when did you start playing together?” He motioned to Josh, who leaned into our microphone.

“Well, we played at our church for a while with people switching in and out for the past three years or so.” He said. “But we officially became a band back in March.”

“That’s cool, that’s cool.” Sandy nodded. “Chris is the bass player in the group – Chris, I understand that you guys have been friends for a long time?” Chris leaned forward. To the mic.

“Well, we’ve all known each other since middle school. But Kate and I have been friends since…well forever, really.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” I leaned forward and stole the answer from Chris, who pretended to pout. “Our moms met at the doctor’s office before we were born, and we’ve been friends ever since.”

“Wow, that’s some pretty neat stuff.” Sandy laughed. “And speaking of you, Kate – what’s it like to be the lead singer in an all guys band?” I was startled for a moment at the incinuation that I was the lead singer and glanced over at Josh. He shook his head and motioned for me to answer.

“Well, it’s pretty fun,” I answered truthfully. “I’ve been friends with these losers for a long time.” we all laughed a bit at my ‘insult’. “Really, though, I don’t feel like the ‘girl in the band’ because we’re all equally important and picked on in this band.”

“What Little Miss Kiss-me-Kate won’t tell you,” Chris pushed me out of the way, “Is that she picks on all of US equally. And attacks us with her scarf.”

“Okay…” Sandy laughed. “It sounds like you guys have good times. Now, this song we’re about to play – what’s it about?” he pointed to me to answer.

“The song’s called ‘Runaway’,” I said. “And it’s basically about someone trying to run away from God and their family and friends to try and have a ‘better’ life, but they end up in worse shape than when they left, and they have to go back home.” I smiled at the guys. “Our drummer, Jesse, and Josh wrote it about a year ago, before I was in the band.”

“That is really cool. Thank you guys so much for coming out.”

“No problem.” Josh grinned.

“Next up, our newest song: ‘Runaway’ by Velvet Botox, here on The Blade, your Tampa Bay rock station,” the sounds of our first recorded single came through the speakers, even though it wasn’t actually being broadcast yet, and Sandy turned it up to listen to it himself. We high-fived and cheered quietly. Our song was going on the radio! “This is really good!” Sandy commented about halfway through. “Did you guys write the parts and the harmonies and everything?” Josh nodded.

“Yeah, all the studio did was record it for us.”

“Well, can I get your guys’ autographs?” Sandy asked. We laughed and he pulled out a notebook and pen. “No, seriously! You guys are going to be big – trust me. I want to get an autograph while I can.” We looked at each other, hardly believing what this guy was doing, and Josh took the pen.

“Our first autographs.” He said, pointing the pen at us. “Remember this.” He signed Sandy’s notebook and handed the pen to Jesse. It continued down the line of us until it got to me, and I paused for a moment. Chris had, in the interview, called me ‘Kiss-me-Kate’. Well, why NOT let that be a trademark of me? I grinned and signed the notebook with a flourish. Josh saw it over my shoulder.

“Kiss-me-Kate Leighan?” he asked, his smile evident in his voice. “You’ve really taken to that, haven’t you?” I shrugged.

“Chris used it, and I figured…” Josh nodded.

“I get it.” He looked over at Sandy, who was preparing to play the clip of us being interviewed. “Do you need us any more?” he asked. Sandy shook his head.

“Bye, kids!” he waved as we filed out. Helen met us outside the soundproof room and hugged me.

“Oh, you did wonderful!” she sighed. “I want to know who told him you were the lead singer, though. Honestly!” she pursed her lips. “Putting you on the spot like that. But you all did great.” She realized she was holding my shoulders and let go abruptly. “And that’s that.” she was all business again. “I’ll see you seven on Saturday.”

“See you Saturday!” we chorused and headed out towards the van, laughing.

“Hey, my car’s parked at the Starbucks on Westshore.” I said. “Could you drop me and Chris off there?”

“Sure.” Josh said, pulling the van out of the parking lot.

~~~

“There they are!” I hissed as Chris and I waited for our drinks in Starbucks. “This is the seventh time I’ve seen them here!” The Laptop Girls had been joined (sometime in the past two and a half weeks) by a fifth teenaged girl. All five of them were pounding furiously. Chris took one look at them and nodded.

“Yeah, they’re doing that thing alright. See how frazzled they look? It’s because November ends tonight and they still have a lot to write.” I turned and stared at him.

“Since when are YOU an expert on the Laptop Girls?” I asked. He shrugged.

“My sister did it for four years. I know their patterns.” He answered, and pointed to the red-head, who had headphones on today, and was listening to a portable radio. “Now she looks more relaxed than the others. I’ll bet she’s been a couple thousand words ahead almost the entire time, and is now within a few hundred words of finishing or is past 50,000 words and is just trying to finish the actual story.” He pointed to the girl across from the red-head – the newer girl to the group who had shown up a week before. “She, on the other hand, got a late start and probably scrapped her work from the first week and started over. She is so behind on word count that she’s typing pointless drivel so she can say she didn’t fail TOO miserably.” He looked proudly down at me. I rolled my eyes.

“You don’t know that.”

“Well, let’s ask them and we’ll find out.” He walked towards them and I stood rooted in place, coffee in hand. All the times I had seen them and wondered about them, I had never thought of actually going over to them and talking to them; they had seemed so intensely focused on their work. “Hey there, are you girls Wrimos by any chance?” Chris was asking. He was greeted, not with the not so polite “we’re working please go away” I was expecting, but with excitement and a barrage of questions. All the girls quickly saved their work and set their laptops on the table in front of them.

“Are you a Wrimo, too?” the red-head asked, taking her headphones off.

“No, he’s not.” I said, finally finding my voice and going over. “I’m Kate, that’s Chris.”

“I’m Elisha (the blatent self insertion).” The red-head said. “This is Alex (the not so blatent friend insertion), Beth, Aubrey, and Amanda” she said, pointing to the normal girl, the sugar girl, the fedora girl, and the new girl, respectively.

“My sister does this every year.” Chris commented. “I recognized the deer-in-the-headlights look that you guys have.”

“Yeah?” Aubrey laughed. “November 30th is hard when you’re behind but determined to finish.” She grinned sheepishly. “Um, speaking of…”

“Oh, right!” Chris backed up a couple steps. “We’ll let you ladies get back to writing.”

“Thanks!”

“Have a good day!”

“Bye!”

We walked out of the Starbucks and were heading to my car when Elisha (the blatent self insertion) jogged out of Starbucks, calling after us.

“Hey, this is going to seem really random.” She said. “But…are you two with Velvet Botox?”

“Y-yeah!” I stammered, surprised. Elisha (the blatent self insertion)’s face lit up.

“Cool! Your song was really good. I was just listening to it. Um…” she blushed and held out a little black notebook. “Can I have your autographs?” Chris and I looked at each other for a moment in complete shock and awe. Then Chris slowly took the pen Elisha (the blatent self insertion) was holding out to him and signed her notebook. And for the second time that day (and in my life) I signed “Kiss-me-Kate Leighan” to someone else’s notebook. “Thanks bunches!” Elisha (the blatent self insertion) grinned.

“No problem.” Chris said, looking excited. “Our pleasure. Honest.”

“Well, I’m going back to work.” Elisha (the blatent self insertion) winked at Chris and headed back into Starbucks. The two of us were quiet for a long moment, and then…

“YEEEES! We’re FAMOUS!”

Tea and Coffee

2004-10-24T01:12:00.000-04:00

Chapter Nine: Tea and Coffee

It was crazy enough recording a CD. And being a senior taking midterms. But then my mom did something stupid without asking me first. She volunteered me to petsit for the lady down the street.

“Mom, I can NOT pet sit for those furballs!” I followed my mom around the house.

“Oh, please! All you have to do is feed them and empty the litterbox.” She rolled her eyes. “Mrs. Sandwich is expecting you in ten minutes, so get your shoes on and jog over to her house.”

“But Mom—“

“No, that’s the end of it. Get going!” I scowled and pulled my sneakers on. As I walked down the street, I muttered to myself.

“All you have to do is feed it!” I mimicked my mother. “That’s all. Mrs. Sand-witch is expecting you. Blah blah blah.” I paused at the door, my hand poised over the doorbell. Mrs. Sandwich was from England, and decended from the Earl of Sandwich who had invented the – that’s right – sandwich. She and her cats were famous (or infamous) among the kids in the neighborhood. It was said that she had twenty cats in the house at all times, and more that roamed the streets, looking for children to maul.

Needless to say, I wasn’t looking very forward to pet sitting for twenty plus violent child-mauling cats.

“Oh, there you are, dearie!” Mrs. Sandwich spotted me through a window and hurried over to the door. I cringed slightly when the door swung open, half expecting for cats to tumble out at my feet and promptly scratch my jeans to shreds. But there wasn’t a cat to be seen.

‘They’re all in the kitchen, probably.’ I thought suspiciously. Mrs. Sandwich beckoned me in and I stepped in slowly. I knew, in the back of my mind, that she didn’t really have bunches of vicious cats, but the imaginings of a child can sometimes carry over into the more logical mind of a teenager and adult, and I was convinced the cats were going to get me, just like I had thought would happen when I was seven.

“You’re just in time for tea, Katie-love, would you like some?” she asked cheerfully. “I made some scones – just took them out of the oven, actually.” I opened my mouth to decline, but thinking about the little old lady with a british accent and having tea and scones in December with my scarf and jacket on a hook by the back door (where she directed me to hang them) was too appealing to pass up.

“I’d love to!” I said, smiling and wondering why those words had come from my mouth. Especially since she called me ‘Katie’. No one had ever called me Katie and lived. Except this little British lady. I let her sit me down at a little table in her living room (which she called the sitting room) and sat awkwardly as she brought the tea tray and kettle in.

“There we are, love!” she smiled brightly. “It’s so rarely I get company for tea. Thank you for offering to take care of my kitties, by the way.” The cats came racing back to my mind and I looked around furtively.

“You’re, er, welcome.” I stammered. I dropped a sugar cube into my tea cup and stirred. “M-mrs. Sandwich?”

“Please call me Nahnee.” She said. “All my grandchildren back in England do.”

“O…kay. Nahnee.” I squeaked a little in surprise as a sleek cream-colored cat seemed to materialize on my lap.

“Crystal! That’s not polite!” Mrs. Sandwich – Nahnee – reached over and picked the cat off of my lap and set her on the floor by the table. I saw now that she was an absolutely beautiful Siamese cat, and didn’t look in the least violent. “I’m sorry about that, dear.”

“Oh, it’s okay.” I assured her, looking around the room for any sign of the other cats. “Where are the others?”

“Others?” Nahnee asked, frowning a bit. “Oh, you mean Winston!” she smiled. “He’s around here somewhere. He’ll turn up before long, never you fear.” I blinked. Only two cats? So much for the theories of childhood. I took a buttered scone from Nahnee and ate it gratefully. We chatted about school and boys and the Terrible Two, as she called Winston and Crystal. When we were done with tea, she showed me where the litterbox was, and the cat food, and told me how much to give them and when, and other such important things. Winston turned out to be a rather fat white Himalayan with a regal bearing – I thought he was adorable. Crystal, going against everything I knew about cats – was very affectionate, and followed my everywhere while I was in the house, taking every opportunity to let me know she wanted held and pet.

“You’re spoiled rotten, Chris.” I murmured to Crystal, finally holding her and enjoying the feel and sound of her purrs against my chest.

“Thank you so much, Katie.” Nahnee beamed as I set Crystal down and retrieved my jacket and scarf.

“Oh, it’s really no problem, Mrs. Sa—Nahnee.” I corrected myself with a grin. She grinned back.

“Now once I’m back, you come by for tea any time you like, alright?” she looked hopeful and I realized how lonely she must get practicing a foreign tradition alone in a different country.

“I’ll come by as often as I can.” I assured her. “I like your scones.”

“Well, I’m glad you have your priorities in order.” She joked. We laughed, and I departed with the spare house key and the instructions to never again, under any circumstances, use the front door – I was to use the kitchen door always.

As I walked back down the street to my house, I reflected that it was really rather cold outside. Not that it wasn’t usually during December, but for Florida, it was definitely a nice change. I smiled up at the cloudy sky and spread my arms, singing words and a melody that I made up as I went.

“Gloves are out, jackets on,
Winter’s come again.
People laughing, fires roaring,
Christmas is on its way.
And I sing to you, for the beauty of nature,
The frost and the clouds,
The rain and red noses,
And I smile at your face behind the clouds.
Winter-time again.”

I laughed joyously, like a little kid, and half-ran, half-skipped the rest of the way back to my house.

~~~

“I can’t believe we were afraid of her for so long!” I exclaimed as I scratched under Crystal’s chin. Chris and Winston seemed to be sizing each other up, and I decided that if it came down to a fight, Winston would probably win.

“Yeah, but…it was the older kids who told us.” He protested. “And we thought, you know, that they didn’t lie to us.” I snorted, thinking about the kids who had told us about Nahnee and her cats. They had been twelve at the time, and we had been seven and gullible as heck. They had since grown up and gone off to college and, I presumed, a career, but they would always be kids in my mind, mostly because of that very incident. I watched out of the corner of my eye as Chris slowly stretched out a hand for Winston to smell. “Are you SURE she doesn’t have more cats? Especially of the child-mauling variety?”

“No!” I rolled my eyes. “Come on, Chris, you don’t honestly still believe all that, do you?” I convieniently left out the part about how I had been the same way earlier in the week.

“No, I don’t!” he answered, a little too quickly to be convincing, and I laughed.

“You’re such a goose, Chris.”

“Yeah, you’re one to talk, Pooky.” He pretended to sulk as we left Nahnee’s house.

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” I rolled my eyes and zipped my jacket up. It was insanely cold (for Florida), and I felt like something warming. “You wanna go for some coffee?” I asked suddenly. Chris paused for a moment, weighing his options.

“Duh! Let’s go!”

We power walked to Starbucks, the cold air piercing our clothes, but our working muscles keeping us warm. When we reached Starbucks, we hurried in, not waiting to look in the window at the people inside like we usually did.

“Hey, it’s my favorite rock stars!” a singsong voice called from the direction of the chair and sofa area. Chris and I both turned at the same time and smiled.

“Elisha (the blatent self insertion) , hey!” I hugged the girl, no longer a red-head but a brunette, which she swore was her natural color. I had run into her a couple more times since November, and she and Alex (the not so blatent friend insertion) (who was sitting in a chair with a pen and a thick stack of paper) had become dear friends of mine. “Hey, Alex (the not so blatent friend insertion).” I waved. “Give us a sec and we’ll be right over.” Chris and I ordered our drinks (a Low-fat Caramel Macchiatto with whip and a Caramel Apple Cider, half the caramel) and joined the girls in the corner.

“What’re you working on, grading essay tests?” Chris asked jokingly as he sat down next to Elisha (the blatent self insertion) , who also had a thick stack of paper.

“No, silly,” she grinned. “I finally got to the end of my story yesterday, so Alex (the not so blatent friend insertion) and I exchanged manuscripts.”

“Ah.” Chris nodded solemnly. I rolled my eyes.

“What’re your novels about, by the way?” I asked Alex (the not so blatent friend insertion). “Neither one of you has really talked about the actual plot…”

“Oh, well!” Alex (the not so blatent friend insertion) leaned forward and set her papers – Elisha (the blatent self insertion) ’s novel – on the little table next to her chair. “Mine is set in the future, and the government is very oppressive, and there’s a rebellion of mostly young people, including my recently come of age main character.” She looked a little sheepish. “I don’t know if it’s that good, though.”

“It’s wonderful!” Elisha (the blatent self insertion) countered. “I’m enthralled by it!”

“You’ve read the whole thing already! Twice, at least!”

“Well, still, it’s a good story and that’s that.” She nodded decisively and turned back to me and Chris. “Mine’s about…” she stopped and thought for a moment. “Teenagers.” She said finally. “My novel’s about teenagers.”

“Very specific.” Chris commented, earning a light smack on the arm.

“It’s not my fault that my plot encompasses many facets of teenaged life!” Elisha (the blatent self insertion) declared melodramatically. “It is the sole responsibility for commencing to operate without my permission and guidance. Not that I’m complaining.” She added in a normal voice.

“So is that all you’re doing? Showing it to friends?” I asked curiously. I had never met anyone (or hadn’t realized I had) who had written a novel, and quite frankly I wanted to know what the heck these two amature novelists were going to do with their work.

“We’re doing editing in March.” Alex (the not so blatent friend insertion) answered.

“March?

“March.” Elisha (the blatent self insertion) nodded, as if this answered everything. “And then I, at least, am going to attempt to publish my novel.”

“I don’t think so.” Alex (the not so blatent friend insertion) shook her head when I looked to her. “Or at least, not until I’ve had a chance to really overhaul it.”

“Oh, crap!” Elisha (the blatent self insertion) yelped when she glanced at her watch. “I’m gonna be late for my date with Michael!” she rushed about (or at least gave the impression of rushing about, since she couldn’t really be considered to be ‘rushing about’ in two square feet) gathering her things together. As she slung her bag over her shoulder, she paused and opened it, pulling out a professionally spiral bound sheaf of paper and holding it out to me. The front read ‘Repeat; by Elizabeth Kobel’. “My full name,” she said. “That’s my novel. Tell me what you think next time we see each other, okay?” she didn’t wait for an answer, just grinned like a madwoman and shot out of the coffee house.

“She’s pretty much in love.” Alex (the not so blatent friend insertion) said by way of explanation for Elisha (the blatent self insertion) ’s abrupt exit. “She won’t drop something just because he’s called, but if it’s scheduled…” she trailed off and glanced out the window. “Ah, perfect timing. My mom’s here, so...”

“No problem.” Chris said quickly. “See you later?”

“Definitely.” Alex (the not so blatent friend insertion) smiled. “It was nice seeing you.”

“You too.” Chris and I were silent for a moment after Alex (the not so blatent friend insertion) left, and I looked down at the novel in my hands. “Hang on.” I said. I looked closely at the dedication page and laughed. “Oh goodness…”

“What?” Chris took the manuscript from me and looked. A smile spread over his face.

The dedication ran thus:
“To Kate and Chris, the coolest rock stars I’ve ever met,
not to mention the ONLY rocks stars I’ve ever met.
One good turn deserves another,
So this is for you.

Funny how my story reflects your lives, just a little.

~E”

Right below that was a note in Elisha (the blatent self insertion) ’s rather wild and bold handwriting. “Kiss-me-Kate and Chris – you’ll have to fight over this: I only had one extra copy. You signed autographs for me, so I’m returning the favor as best I can, you know? Enjoy the story! Love, Elisha (the blatent self insertion) .”

“Dude, Pooky, look at this!” Chris had flipped to the back, which had a book summary, like all good novels. “It’s about a band landing a record deal.”

“Wow.” I said softly. It was pretty cool that Elisha (the blatent self insertion) ’s story had, like she said, reflected our lives a little. I looked at my watch and sighed. “Well, it’s time to get home, or our moms will get ever so angry.” Chris laughed as we walked out and down the street, sipping our drinks and just having a good time. Just being friends.

Gratuitous Descriptions

2004-10-23T23:39:00.000-04:00

Chapter Ten: Gratuitous Descriptions

It was crazy, really, thinking that we could just waltz up to the office and expect to be let in. It wasn't as if it were a doctor's office, or someplace else you could just walk in and expect to be helped. It was the headquarters of a record label - our record label, but a record label nonetheless. We were nervous, but Josh looked so intent on getting everything sorted out that none of us were willing to back down. Besides, compromising now wouldn't lead to getting our own way later, it would lead to...well...MORE compromise.

"We're here to see Mr. Adams." Josh told the secretary out front.

"Do you have an appointment?" she asked, not looking up at us.

"Well...no," Josh admitted, "But we're on your label, and--"

"That's what everyone says, hon." she said, rolling her eyes. "Now if you'll just move along, I'd be greatly obliged."

"No, we really are on your label!" Dave insisted. "Our producer is Merrit (the ever so cool) Franks, and we usually work with Helen Franks, and Mr. Wentworth was the one who recruited us!" The secretary looked up for the first time and picked up her phone.

"Well, either you're telling the truth or you did your homework." she said. "I'll see if Mr. Adams is available...er...what were you kids called again?"

"Velvet Botox." Josh said with a perfectly straight face. She raised her eyebrows and got on the phone. After a moment of hushed conversation, she turned back to us.

"Mr. Adams would like to know your reason for wishing to see him."

"We have a complaint against Carl Wentworth." Josh said, very professionally, if you asked me. Once again, the secretary's eyebrows shot up, and she spoke on the phone again.

"Alright, go through that door there and ask for directions." she said, pointing us towards the door to the offices.

"Thank you." Josh smiled, and herded us through the door into the office area. It was bustling and hectic, and we did our best to catch someone's attention.

Then SHE strode over. A beautiful, enchanting vision of a woman, or at least so I assumed - the boys couldn't stop staring at her, a fact which made me quite jealous to say the least. But I could understand why they stared.

She was drop dead gorgeous. Not just the type of gorgeous that makes guys drool, the kind that sends them into shock. She was slightly taller than average, with a slender build; she couldn't have weighed more than 125 pounds. Her eyes were a light blue grey, soft and gentle, but with an edge - enough edge to let you know that she was no push over. Her hair, oh how I wanted her hair. It was a deep chestnut color, and it fell in sensuous waves to her waist. Where the light hit it, it lightened to a much lighter, almost golden color - with her beautiful eyes like peircing gems, she was like a living treasure, something that men would have gone on quests for in times gone by.

She wore a buisness suit, but she made it look good. The pencil skirt she wore was a dark, smoky grey, and had a slit up to her mid thigh, showing off a good deal of pantyhosed leg. Her white blouse was thin and light, and if you looked closely (and I knew the guys were, no matter how hard they tried not to) you could see the lace pattern of her bra. The top two buttons of her blouse were undone, giving her a distinct "relaxed professional" look. When she saw us, she changed course and headed straight for us, her perfectly complexioned face breaking into a smile, revealing perfectly straight white teeth and a smile that could've been a toothpaste ad.

"Hi, I'm Amber." she said cheerfully, in a voice that I suppose was meant to be innocent and sexy, but just managed to be...well, innocent and sexy.

"Josh." our 'fearless leader' managed, and shook Amber's outstretched hand. I caught a glimpse of long, slender fingers, perfectly manicured, and...was that? Yes! A wedding ring on her left ring finger. I smiled triumphantly, knowing that no matter how much the boys wanted to ogle, they should watch out, because this chick was spoken for.

"You look lost, can I help you?" she asked, sounding for all the world like a professional cheerleader. The boys all seemed incapable of an intelligible response, so I rolled my eyes and stepped up to the plate.

"We need to get to Mr. Adam's office." I said rolling my eyes at the helplessness of the males in my company. Surprisingly, Amber laughed, and nodded, giving me a look that plainly said 'I know, they're hopeless, aren't they?'.

"Sure thing, come right this way." I walked next to her as she led us through the maze of cubicles and offices.

"So, how long have you been married?" I asked, loudly enough for the boys to hear. Amber looked surprised.

"How did you--oh! The ring tipped you off, eh?" she beamed, holding her hand up so I could look at the ring. "Three years next March." she sighed happily. "My mom says I sound like a newlywed still." We shared a laugh as we stopped in front of a fancy door with it's own secretary outside. "Well, here you are, kids. Have a good day."

"Thanks for helping, Amber!" I turned on the boys. "Now, can we stop ogling her like a bunch of cave men? You're embarrassing me!"

"Can I help you?" the secretary asked. Josh shook his head as if to clear it and nodded at her.

"Um, yes, we're Velvet Botox. We're here to see Mr. Adams."

"Just a moment." the secretary got on her intercom. "Mr. Adams, you have some visitors. They call themselves 'Velvet Botox'?"

"Oh, right!" a voice scratched over the intercom. "Send them in." The secretary looked up and smiled.

"Alright, in you go, kids."

"Thank you, ma'am." We all were clustered together as Josh led the way to the door. He opened the door, all our hearts were pounding, and stepped inside. The rest of us followed. What we saw surprised us to no end, or at least it surprised me. The office was decorated with posters of different rock bands and broadway shows - the most prominent was an autographed RENT poster hanging directly above the desk. Mr. Adams was nowhere to be seen. There was sports equipment in one corner, and a Golden Retriever jumped up out of a dog bed in another corner and rushed us, it's tail wagging wildly. It came straight at me, and was so enthusiastic in its greeting that I was knocked off my feet.

"EEE! Stop!" I giggled as the dog licked my face happily.

"Bobbert, leave her alone!" a young man's voice came from around a little half wall by the door. A lanky guy, he looked about 29 or 30, unfolded himself from his seat on the floor. I could see a TV and PlayStation in the cupboard he'd been sitting in front of. "Bobbert!" he came over and dragged the dog off of me. "Sorry about that - he's just really friendly." he laughed and shooed the dog off. "Craig Adams." he said holding out a hand to help me up.

"Kate Leighan." I replied with a laugh.

"Good to meet you, good to meet you." he smiled and shook hands with the boys.

"Dave (last name)"

"Josh (last name)"

"Mark (last name)"

"Jesse (last name)"

"Chris (last name)"

"Great. Oh! Er...well, grab a beanbag, let's talk!" he reached behind Jesse and tossed a beanbag chair at me. Once we were all comfortably settled on the floor of the office, out of direct site of the door, with Bobbert's head in my lap, Craig leaned forward. "So, I hear you have a problem with Carl Wentworth."

“Well, not so much a problem as…a disagreement, I suppose.” Josh said, speaking for us. Sure, Mr. Adams – Craig – was much younger and cooler than we’d thought, but we had decided to let Josh do the talking, and we were sticking by that.

“How so?” Craig asked, curious.

“Well…” Josh sighed. “He wants us to change our style some, so we sound and look more like…I dunno, whatever band is really popular.” He paused a moment. “And…he wants us to stop singing about God so much. That’s the real problem – we sing about God, that’s what our message is, and he knew that when he signed us, but now he’s trying to pressure us into changing and we don’t want to.”

“No, sir.” I heard Mark murmur, and we all shook our heads, agreeing with Josh. Craig nodded and looked us each straight in the eye for a moment before speaking.

“Alright.” He said, leaning back in his beanbag chair. “What do you want me to do about it?”

“Well…ah…” Josh looked a bit taken aback – he had not expected to be asked what he wanted done, so he hadn’t really thought about it. Craig sat silently, looking slightly bemused as he watched Josh struggle for words. “Just ask him to stop.” Josh said finally. “Tell him that…that we have our own style of music and lyrics, and he knew that, so he should stop trying to change it. We aren’t willing to compromise our stand any more.”

“’Any more’?” Craig asked. “What do you mean?”

“Well, this did turn out well,” Josh admitted to begin, “But I’d rather we had made the decision on our own. I was the lead singer, until Mr. Wentworth convinced us to put Kate out front. In hindsight, it was a good move, but when it happened, it was a compromise, and that’s no way to go about doing good things.” Craig nodded.

“Ok.” He said, and stood up. I looked at Josh in surprise; we hadn’t thought it would be that easy.

“You mean, you’ll talk to Mr. Wentworth about it?” Chris blurted out. Craig laughed.

“Yes, I will.” He said. “I can’t promise he’ll change, but I’ll attempt to give him incentive to stop bugging you about how you run YOUR band.” He looked at his watch and grimaced. “Oh, dear, I was supposed to meet my wife for lunch five minutes ago! C’mon, I’ll walk you down to the lobby – I’m meeting her there anyway.” We rushed out of his office, leaving the secretary shaking her head. When we got down to the lobby, no one was there except us, the secretary and Amber, the chestnut-haired beauty that had been so nice, and made me so jealous.

“Hey, there you are!” she smiled widely and giggled as Craig strode over to her and dipped her, giving her a kiss.

“I missed you today.”

“It’s been two hours since you last saw me, you goose.”

“Yes, but that’s two hours too long, my sweet.” I laughed at Craig, who was absolutely hamming it up, but not for us, since Amber seemed to be used to it. So, this was the beauty’s darling husband – it was funny beyond belief to me, but I still don’t know why. The irony, I suppose. The guys looked supremely jealous of Craig, and I felt much better.

“It was nice to meet you, Mr. Adams!” I said cheerfully, waving goodbye with one hand and dragging Chris by his wrist with the other. “G’bye Amber!”

“Oh, bye Kate! Goodbye, everyone!” Amber waved and giggled again as Craig started kissing up her arm. I rolled my eyes (while secretly thinking it would be cool to have a husband who would do that) and dragged Chris (with the rest of the guys close behind) out the door.

I love the way life works out sometimes.

Whooshing Sounds

2004-10-23T13:02:00.000-04:00

Chapter Eleven: Whooshing Sounds

One of my favorite authors, Douglas Adams, once said “I love deadlines. I love the whooshing sound they make as they go by.” That was how the winter passed – with a whooshing sound. School, church, and recording sessions seemed to blur together as my senior year drew to a close. We finished recording the songs for our CD, with some resistance from Mr. Wentworth.

He had, you see, wanted us to imitate the sound and song style of one of the “popular” bands so we could sell more CDs. He suggested we record some of the songs the label’s lyricist had written instead of so many “God songs”.

Josh had, thankfully, declined. Unfortunately, in the upheaval that it caused during February, Dave dropped out of the band.

By the time April (and my birthday) rolled around, though, we were starting to notice the fruits of our labor. Every time I turned on the radio, it seemed like one of our songs was playing. Granted, I didn’t listen to the radio very often, but other people noticed the same thing. But, like I said, April rolled around, and my 19th birthday was scarce days away.

“So are you doing anything for your birthday?” Jesse asked about a week before the big day (April 11th).

“Oh, yeah,” I answered nonchalantly. “I’m going out with my college friends and we’re going to get drunk. You know, the usual.”

“Ah, sounds fun,” Jesse said, straight faced. “Well, if they turn out to be no fun, would you like to go to a movie with me?” I looked up from the book I had been reading, startled.

“What?”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Jesse said quickly. “It was just, I dunno, I knew you wanted to see that new Bruce Willis movie, so—“

“No, no, it’s not that!” I explained hurriedly. “I just wasn’t expecting that question is all.” I fell silent for a few seconds. “So, going to a movie, huh?”

“Yeah.” Jesse grinned shyly. “Just as friends, though.”

“Of course.”

“Of course.” Jesse shifted uncomfortably and looked up gratefully when Chris came in from the kitchen. “What, no food?”

“Do I look like a waiter?” Chris asked. “I was on the phone, not eating.”

“On the phone?” I asked. “Who would want to talk to you?”

“Ha ha, very funny.” He stuck his tongue out at me. “As a matter of fact I was just talking to one of my REAL friends. Since you seem to like to abuse me so.” He put on a melodramatic martyr expression, and Jesse and I laughed.

“So who was it?” Jesse asked finally. Chris just shook his head.

“I’ll never te-ell.” He said in a sing-song voice. The doorbell rang and I stood up and stretched.

“Okay, hold that thought.” I said, rolling my eyes. I went to the door, noticing absently that Chris was (attempting) to follow me stealthily. Silently asking God how I got to be such good friends with Chris, I opened the door on a pizza delivery girl. It took me a moment to recognized the bubbly brunette outside of the familiar Starbucks setting, but finally the reaElisha (the blatent self insertion) tion dawned on me.

“I’ve got your pizza here.” Elisha (the blatent self insertion) said, holding up the box and grinning. Jesse poked his head out of the family room and gave a yelp of excitement.

“Pizza!” Jesse rushed Elisha (the blatent self insertion) , snatched the box, and retreated to the family room, laughing triumphantly. Elisha (the blatent self insertion) stood frozen in place for a second, her eyebrows raised.

“I take it that was Jesse?” she finally asked. Chris nodded.

“Yeah, he’s a freak. C’mon in!”

“Chris!” I looked incredulously at him.

“What?” he asked, confused.

“She’s WORKING.”

“No, I’m not, really!” Elisha (the blatent self insertion) assured me quickly, closing the door behind her. “I got off of work about 15 minutes ago and brought the pizza. Chris paid me for it earlier.” I looked over at Chris curiously, wondering when he had gotten together with Elisha (the blatent self insertion) to pay for the pizza.

“So, anyway, come on it!” Chris said cheerfully. “We were just about to start a movie.”

“Now I know why you waited to start it.” I muttered quietly as I passed him going into the family room. He blushed a little and quickly turned the TV on and put the DVD in the player.

“So what’re we watching?” Elisha (the blatent self insertion) asked, taking her uniform shirt off, revealing the T-shirt underneath.

“We’re not sure, Chris wouldn’t tell us.” Jesse commented, a large bite of pizza in his mouth. It actually came out more garbled, but after I made out what he was saying, I nodded agreement.

“You’ll see when the movie starts.” Chris insisted, pressing a button on the DVD player. “Aaaaand…there you go!” he stepped back with a flourish as the movie began, sitting next to Elisha (the blatent self insertion) on the couch.

Jesse groaned good-naturedly, but stayed and watched. I, of course, was in a near catatonic state due to the beauty of Michael Crawford’s voice.

Somehow, someway, Chris had gotten a DVD version of a recording of an original cast performance of The Phantom of the Opera. Or maybe it was just a recording of some random performance with the original cast recording substituted for the real performers. Either way, though, Michael Crawford’s voice soared, and I was in a rapturous state.

Good lord, I’m sounding like a Victorian sonnet – somebody stop me.

Needless to say, I was very pleased with the choice.

It had been an enlightening evening all in all, though. However enraptured I was with Michael Crawford’s voice, I still managed to glance around at my friends. Elisha (the blatent self insertion) and Chris inched closer and closer to each other as the film went on, and by “Masquerade”, they were cuddling like nobody’s business. Jesse, on the other hand, kept a respectful and unusually far distance from me. It was crazy, truly crazy.

Autographs

2004-10-22T13:04:00.000-04:00

Chapter Twelve: Autographs

“Now, you’ll have to stay at the table, and don’t take too much time on any one person, otherwise people will get antsy.” Helen took a deep breath and looked us over. We were dressed in clothes similar to the ones we had worn on the photo shoot for our CD insert. ‘We’, obviously being Vevet Botox, minus Dave.

“Ah, welcome, welcome!” The manager of the Virgin Records came out and greeted us. We were doing a CD signing there, and a couple acoustic versions of songs in the café. I wasn’t paying attention to him as he thanked us for coming – I was paying more attention to the large crowd of teenagers outside the bookstore. I couldn’t imagine what they were there for, but they seemed pretty excited about whatever it was.

“Ohmigosh, there they are!” one of the girls squealed and pointed at us. I blinked and looked behind me, expecting to see someone else behind us, then startled as I was nearly run over by teenagers asking for my autograph.

“Kissme, I love you!” some kid with braces called out from the edges of the group.

“Sign my arm?”

“Chris, will you be my boyfriend?”

“Ohmigosh, Jesse is SOOOOO hot!”

“People, people, get back!” Helen tried to get everyone’s attention and, failing that, got on her walkie talkie to the other van that had come with us. “We need security, guys.”

“Yes, please!” Mark’s voice cracked as he was swamped by teenage girls. A handful of burly men piled out of the van and shoved their way through the crowd. When they reached us, they hustled us back to the bookstore, blocking the entrance from the crazed teens.

“What was THAT about, Helen?” Josh turned the moment we were inside and confronted the woman with more than a little hurt in his eyes. Helen sighed and looked down.

“Well…I guess our promoting did better than expected.” She said softly. Josh raised an eyebrow.

“Promoting?”

“Yeah.” Helen nodded. “Over the past few months, we’ve let out four of your songs to local and national radio stations. You have, since January, had at least one song in the weekly top ten every week.” She flushed a little. “And…we’ve been hinting at a possible tour if we get enough listener support.”

“And when,” Josh asked coldly, “Were you planning on telling us this?”

“Look, I’m sorry, alright? I may be a professional, but I’m still human.” Helen drew herself up, sounding much more like the businesswoman we’d come to expect when dealing with her. “I had no idea it would get this crazy, or I would’ve told you despite what Carl was saying – he didn’t want you to know, he said, so that you ‘wouldn’t be nervous’.” Josh shook his head.

“Helen…” he started to say something and then didn’t. “Alright, let’s get this over with.”

“Bring it on.” Chris agreed as he sat down behind the table that had been set up for us. I pursed my lips a bit and grabbed a silver sharpie for signing. I watched incredulously as the teenagers (and a few scattered twenty somethings) lined up excitedly to get their CDs or notebooks signed. As the people filed through, I signed everything from CDs to Coke cans to five dollar bills to some guy’s stomach.

It was surreal. Absolutely surreal. I silently thanked God that we had Helen, who had set up an e-mail account and P.O. Box for fan mail, and was passing out mini-flyers with our website (designed by the multi-talented Merrit (the ever so cool)) and addresses on them. It went on for a good two hours, and our acoustic mini-concert wasn’t for another hour, so we sat around with our foofoo coffee drinks of choice. A red-head came up a little shyly. She was a natural red-head, not the store-bought kind that I was currently.

“Excuse me.” She said. “You’re Velvet Botox.” Mark and Jesse groaned quietly, but Josh shot them a look and gave the girl a friendly smile.

“We are indeed. How can I help you?”

“Well, um…” she grinned, slightly embarrassed, “Could you guys sign my car?”

“Your…car?” I asked, laughing. “Um…I guess so…"

“Thank you so much!” the red-head grinned. “Follow me!” She grabbed Mark’s hand and lead us to the parking lot, where her car was waiting, obviously. As we walked, my mouth fell open a bit, seeing the car we were heading to.

“Is that…your car?” I asked, my eyes on a certain car parked a little ways away from the others.

“Ye-eah…” she blushed. “It was sort of an 18th birthday present from a bunch of friends and family. I just got it yesterday.” The car in question was a vintage Volkswagon Beetle, painted pink, with the name “Rosie” written on it in a deep almost red pink on the driver’s side. It was, if taken aesthetically, a complete and utter monstrosity. But knowing that it was a special gift – picked for her by people who knew and loved her – made it a touching, if not exactly beautiful, thing.

“So, where do you want us to sign?” Chris asked cheerfully. The red-head (Rosie, I assumed correctly) opened the back door of her car and pointed to a spot on the inside, where the painted metal extended to be visible inside. One by one, we sat on the backseat and signed Rosie’s car.

“Thank you, thank you!” Rosie beamed, shaking our hands. “It really means a lot to me. I mean, I think it’s so cool that my church band is so famous.”

“Wait,” Jesse interrupted. “You go to TBB?” Rosie nodded.

“Most people...” she paused for a moment. “Most people don’t notice me.” She said finally, smiling sadly.

“That’s…terrible.” I said. Josh looked thoughtful.

“I’ve seen you.” He said finally. “I felt bad because you were always sitting alone in the back, but you always came in just as everything was starting and left immediately after – I never got a chance to talk to you.” He put his head on one side. “I wish you’d stay longer next time.” Rosie smiled, a child-like hope filling her face.

“Yeah…” she said slowly. “Maybe I will.”

Kiss me, Kate

2004-10-21T13:05:00.000-04:00

Chapter Thirteen: Kiss me, Kate

"Okay, I can see what the artichoke was doing on the kitchen table, but that's a highly impractical place to put a goldfish. Not to mention the lava lamp. And if it was NOT the kitchen table, what the heck was the artichoke doing there?" I blinked in confusion as I walked up to Elisha (the blatent self insertion) and Alex (the not so blatent friend insertion), who were obviously having quite an…interesting conversation.

“I keep telling you, it was an iniciation ceremony; I was undercover!” Alex (the not so blatent friend insertion) insisted.

“Who goes undercover for an iniciation ceremony?” Elisha (the blatent self insertion) asked, her voice squeaking upward enough to rival a dog whistle.

“Hey, I’m a reporter for the school newspaper and—“

“No, you’re the equivilant of a freelancer.” Elisha (the blatent self insertion) interrupted. “You write random articles, give them to the editor, and hope that A) they get printed and B) they get printed with YOUR name on them.” She looked up and saw me. “Hey, how’s our little celebrity?” I groaned.

“I’m somebody everyone knows.” I said, flopping down in a chair opposite them. “It’s getting worse – every single stinking time I go into a music store, SOMEBODY recognizes me.” I looked over at Alex (the not so blatent friend insertion), who was humming softly to herself.

“Mmm-Mmm…’They’re gonna recognize my eyes, my hair, my teeth, my boobs, my nose’…” she trailed off when she realized I was staring at her.

“Don’t mind Alex (the not so blatent friend insertion), she’s nuts.” Elisha (the blatent self insertion) said matter of factly.

“Yes,” Alex (the not so blatent friend insertion) agreed, “But I do not taste good salted, mixed, or honey roasted.” It took me a second to get the joke, but when I did, I laughed loudly.

“Funny, kiddo, very funny.” I said, shaking my head. “Anyway, what’s this all about? You said you wanted to talk to me…”

“Elisha (the blatent self insertion) ’s gonna be on Broadway!” Alex (the not so blatent friend insertion) burst out, unable to hold in her excitement. My eyes went wide.

“No kidding?” I looked at Elisha (the blatent self insertion) . She nodded, a huge smile spreading across her face. “When? How? What part?”

“When, starting immediately.” Elisha (the blatent self insertion) said. “Or at least, rehersals do. What part…” she trailed off and took a few deep breaths, as if she were afraid she’d explode from excitement. “Meg Giry in ‘Phantom of the Opera’, understudy for Christine Daae, and the director told me that when Louisa leaves in October (that’s the girl who plays Christine now) I’ll be ready for the part!” She bit her lip and closed her eyes, throwing up her hands in a gesture of silent triumph.

“Oh. My gosh.” I said, my mouth hanging open. “That’s…oh my gosh, Elisha (the blatent self insertion) ! Wow! I mean…wow!” I found myself unable to say anything more coherent, but Elisha (the blatent self insertion) nodded as if she understood.

“Exactly.” She said. “It’s my dream come true!” then her face fell a bit. “I just…don’t know how to tell Chris.” She said softly. I reached out and put a hand on her arm.

“Don’t worry about Chris – just tell him the same way you told me. Except perhaps without the early references to avocados.” I added, getting a laugh for my efforts. “Anyway, how did this happen?”

“KISMET!” Elisha (the blatent self insertion) and Alex (the not so blatent friend insertion) exclaimed at the same time. I cocked an eyebrow.

“Kismet?”

“Yes.” Alex (the not so blatent friend insertion) nodded. “Only you need to say it with more ‘oomph’. It’s like skipping – it makes you happy! Go on, try it!”

“er…KISMET!” I semi-shouted to the people in Starbucks. A couple of them looked at me oddly, but I ignored them and (surprisingly) felt a bit happier than before I had shouted it. “Heh…That is kind of fun.” I grinned slowly.

“It is, isn’t it?” Elisha (the blatent self insertion) asked, laughing. “But come, drink of your holy nectar,” she motioned to my coffee, “And tell us all about your life as a rock star.” I rolled my eyes.

“Oh, don’t ask me about that!” I sighed. “That’s all I seem to get asked nowadays.” The two girls looked pleadingly at me. “Fine. We’re planning on going on tour in the eastern states starting in late July.”

“And you WILL be getting us VIP passes, right?” Alex (the not so blatent friend insertion) asked, waggling her eyebrows.

“Well, I’m really not at liberty to say.” I said solemnly. Elisha (the blatent self insertion) closed her eyes for a moment, then looked directly at me, waving her hand in front of my face.

“You WILL get us VIP passes.” She said softly.

“Somebody been watching too much Star Wars?” I asked Alex (the not so blatent friend insertion) in a loud stage whisper.

“You WILL shut up and get us VIP passes.” Elisha (the blatent self insertion) insisted, waving her hand again. Alex (the not so blatent friend insertion) giggled.

“Yes, y’all are getting VIP passes for the Tampa show.” I admitted, laughing. “You two, Dave, Anna, and Rosie are my list, not counting my folks.” The girls turned to each other and high-fived.

“Score!”

“Boo-yah!”

“Chill, girls, it’s not anything you couldn’t hear at a rehersal. Which you’ve been to.” I pointed out.

“Yes, but at rehersal,” Elisha (the blatent self insertion) insisted, “There are not hundreds of screaming fans and lights and smoke machines and huge amps in the Forum and—“

“Alright, I get it!” I laughed. “You want to see us in concert.”

“We want to see YOU in concert.” Alex (the not so blatent friend insertion) said.

“And Chris.” Elisha (the blatent self insertion) added quietly, bringing grins to our faces and a blush to hers.

“Anyway, how did you guys like that new song we were doing on Saturday?”

~~~

Learning about tours was an interesting experience. We were opening for some popular group from England that I’d never heard of (being the ‘popularity hermit’ that I am) and they quite kindly agreed to give us the lowdown about what would happen at the concerts. It was intriguing, actually, the amount of detailing went into every movement (backstage, at least) of the artists performing. It was fascinating, to me, knowing nothing about it. (insert such of backstage)

“It’s all a bit overwhelming at first.” William, one of the Brits said when they were finally done.

“You’ll get used to it.” Marcus insisted. It was funny, we had all agreed, that we had a “Mark” and they had a “Marcus”.

“Wow.” Chris said with a low whistle. “That’s tough. But way cool.”

“Wicked awesome.” William agreed. He looked at his watch. “Alright, well, I’m sorry to have to run out on you, but we have a bit of video filming that we’re doing this week, and…”

“Say no more,” Josh assured him. “We’ll see you closer to the tour, I guess?”

“Definitely.” Joel, the last of the Brits, agreed. The trio bid us farewell, paying what I thought was an undue amount of attention to me, causing Jesse’s face to get…very red. I hadn’t been able to go to that movie on my birthday, turned out that Anna and Chris were throwing me a surprise party that Jesse had forgotten about, but we’d gone to a movie a few days later.

Then somehow, through some miracle of scheduling that our school board had pulled off, the Seniors were officially graduating on May 13th. It was an honest to goodness miracle, I will swear to this day. But I gained a new appreciation for my private school and its leadership, and that was good.

But I digress. Jesse and I had gone to a movie or two since my birthday, and each time he had pitched in for my popcorn and drinks, since I tended to be broke on any given day other than the day after I got my paycheck. It wasn’t that I spent it all, but 10% went to the church, $26 (a month, I got paychecks every two weeks) went to the kid in the Phillipines that I was sponsoring, $15 dollars went to supplementing my weekly allowance which bought me lunch at school, and the rest went into savings. I put it there of my own free will, honestly. I was saving for a video camera.

And I’ve digressed again – what do you need to know my financial information for?

Anyway, Jesse had pitched in for my snacks, as I said, and both times had been rather fun, just two friends hanging out together and having a blast making fun of the wooden dialogue and terrible acting in a couple of ‘critically acclaimed’ movies. But somehow I got the impression that it was building up to something. To what, I didn’t know – in ‘relationship’ matters I’ve never been the brightest crayon in the box, although I am a rather nice shade of deep lavender.

But something was up, and it was all about to come to a head.

~~~

“Hey, Kissme, you want to go to a movie tonight?” Jesse asked as we walked towards our cars.

“Sure, what time?”

“Oh, let’s meet around…six?”

“Cool, I’ll see you there!” I hurried to my car, wondering what I could wear to our movie ‘date’. It wasn’t as if I wanted to impress him, obviously, but it was important to look…clean. Yes, clean, that’s what I was thinking of.

When I got home, I then dutifully jumped in the shower. Actually, before I jumped in the shower, I spent 30 minutes putting in my new hair color – deep golden blonde, although I was afraid the color would come out wrong over my red. But if it didn’t my hair would be blonde, until I went to my colorist and had her color the ends of my hair pink. I had found that it was much cheaper to – when changing my hair color – do the base color myself and just let Julio, my colorist/stylist, do the streaking, if there was any streaking to do. After showering and rinsing the dye out of my hair, I was relieved that it did what it was supposed to despite my misgivings, and I was now a blonde. Thankfully I would have a bright color in my hair in a couple days, but for now it would be alright. I then proceeded to put curl gel in my hair and steal my mom’s hair dryer and diffuser so I could wave my hair.

By the time I was finished getting ready, I had spent more time on my appearance than I had for prom the year before, when Chris and I had switched roles and I had gone in a tux and he in a dress.

He had been a sport and even shaved his legs and gotten heels, something I wouldn’t even do.

“Hey, sorry I’m late!” I panted as I jogged up to Jesse at the theater. He turned around and looked at me, eyes wide.

“So…you’re a blonde now?” he asked, a held-back laugh evident in his voice.

“I’m getting the pink put in at Julio’s on Monday.” I explained. Jesse smiled a little shyly.

“It looks nice.” He said. I blushed a little.

“Um, thanks.” I replied. “So what’s showing?” I asked, hastily changing the subject.

“Kid’s movie, sappy romance, action movie that likely sucks eggs, and another Japanese horror movie re-make.” He said, listing the genres. None of us in The Band had ever bothered to pick movies by the plot – it was the genre we picked, then the leading man or lady if there was more movie of that genre playing. It was like Russian roulette, only without the gun and bullet and the possibility of death. Unless you counted death by clichés or over cheesiness.

“I say we go with the Japanese re-make.” I said after a moment’s deliberation. Jesse stuck his tongue out at me. “Oh my, do we have a tongue there, ickle Jesse?” I asked in an over bearing great aunt voice. You know the type – they squeal every time the see you, pinch your cheeks, and comment on how much you’ve grown, even if it’s only been a week since you saw them last.

“What’s the deal with girls and horror films?” he asked as we waited in line for snacks a few minutes later.

“We like to be scared, I guess.” I said, shrugging. “Especially if we go with ‘The Guy’.” I said, making a quoting motion with my fingers. Jesse raised an eyebrow.

“’The Guy’?” he asked.

“Yeah, you know – your crush, hot date, boyfriend, fiancée, or husband.” I rolled my eyes. “So that when a scary part comes, you can grab his hand, or jump into his lap, or whatever.”

“Really?” Jesse looked like he was in excited shock. I looked him up and down appraisingly.

“You never knew that?” I asked. He scratched his neck and grinned a little too widely.

“Of course I did, silly!” he exclaimed a little too quickly. “I just had forgotten, that’s all.”

“Sure, whatever.” I laughed. I ordered our popcorn and drinks, although I was pretty sure the popcorn would go flying at some point – I tended to get rather jumpy at horror films, although I loved watching them. It didn’t matter who was holding the popcorn, either; anyone within three seats of me would have their popcorn go flying if I was scared by anything in the movie.

“Why do you order popcorn when we go to these things?” Jesse asked, echoing my thoughts. “It always goes flying.” I shrugged.

“Getting popcorn is just something you do at the movies.” I said. “Anyway, that’s why I got a large, they get one free refill.” Jesse rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath. “What was that, dear?” I asked sweetly.

“Nuthin.” He mumbled, blushing.

“Really? I could have SWORN I heard you say ‘one refill won’t be near enough’ just a moment ago.” I batted my eyes innocently. “But I suppose I COULD be mistaken.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He laughed, realizing he was caught. “Here’s our theater. Wanna try for footrest seats?”

“Obviously.” I said, motioning to my new(ish) boots. “These boots were made for proppin’, and that’s just what they’ll do.”

“If you so much as THINK ‘One of these days these boots are gonna prop all over you’, I will personally make sure you are killed using death by Barry Manaloe.” I blinked innocently again.

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of thinking that, honestly.” I insisted. “Besides, do you even know who Barry Manaloe is?”

“No, but I get the feeling his music would cause you to bleed out your ears.” He teased, hopping over the railing in front of the stadium seats in the theater and claiming two ‘footrest seats’ for us. Not that he needed to claim them – there was no one in the theater except for a couple in the very back who seemed very interested in playing tongue tag.

“Ew.” I said quietly, glancing back at them. “That is just wrong. For married people, away from any prying eyes, yeah I can accept it. But in PUBLIC?” I shook my head. Jesse looked at me seriously.

“You mean you don’t get a kick out of sucking face for all the world to see? What a freak!”

“Oh, puhleez. You’ve never so much as kissed a girl on the cheek!”

“Have so.”

“Your mother, aunts, grandmas, and cousins do not count.”

“Ah…” Jesse opened and closed his mouth like a goldfish, unable to come up with a satisfactory rebuttal for my assertion. Mostly because it was true. I grinned triumphantly at him, and he poked me in the stomach. We laughed and teased and mocked the face suckers for the remaining minutes before the movie started. Then we made fun of the trailers before the movie and imitated Mr. Moviefone for each other. A few other people had trickled in, but we didn’t really pay any attention to them.

By the time the movie actually started, we were feeling snarky as anything. Ten minutes later, our snarkiness was forgotten as we were drawn into the brilliant Japanese-remake horror film. It was very scary, mostly because everything happened in an otherwise normal setting – one of the scariest places to set a supernatural horror film.

About twenty five minutes in, I found myself clutching Jesse’s arm and hand for dear life, the armrest between us long since put up for safety when I spazzed. I didn’t immediately notice that he had tentatively given me his far hand and rested his other arm around my shoulders. It wasn’t until the movie had become temporarily not as scary, and my grip on his hand loosened, that I noticed. It surprised me very much to find myself in such a position with Jesse. If I hadn’t known any better, I would have thought…but no, there was no way Jesse could actually…I mean, he was twenty years old, for crying out loud! A year and almost three months older than me!

But I found that I liked it, so I didn’t make any move to move his arm and moved a little to make our position a little more comfortable. Unfortunately, I noticed immediately, it put us into even closer contact. We were practically snuggling, and I didn’t really want to move.

By the time the movie ended, I realized that I had missed about half of the plot (which didn’t really bother me much) and that I was quite confused as to my relationship with Jesse (which bothered me a lot).

“Well, that was a good one.” I said slowly, hoping that it hadn’t actually been a snoozer that I had missed because Jesse’s arm was around my shoulders.

“Yes, it was.” Jesse nodded, his voice hinting at the same slow unsureness I was feeling about the plot and life in general.

“It was fun.” I said, after a moment of silence.

“Yeah.” Jesse nodded again, his extensive vocabulary (which I knew he had) apparently on vacation. “See you tomorrow?” he asked hopefully.

“Sure.” I replied. “Give me a call.”

“Ok.”

“Ok.”

“G’night, Kissme.”

“Night, Jesse.” I walked back to my car, noticing the crispness of the night and thinking of the oddest song. At least, it didn’t seem to be a song that fit the occasion…but I sang it anyway.

“Gaze into my eyes
Let me know you’d fight
Thousands for my love
Slip your hand in mine
Ask me to dance with you tonight
Just ask me for my love.”

“Bethany Dillon sure knows her stuff, huh?” a voice came from behind me. I whirled around, surprised to see Josh standing there.

“Josh, hey!” I managed to say.

“I wasn’t sure it was you for a while, since you’ve gone blonde since this afternoon.” He grinned at me. “I like it, by the way. But once I was sure it was you cuddling up to Jesse—“

“What? We weren’t cuddling! Who told you we were cuddling? We weren’t, honest, I was just scared!” I gasped. Josh shook his head, a smile hovering over his lips.

“I’m glad you’re finally starting to see that you like him.” He said. “I was worried he’d be pining after you forever, and you’d never realize you were pining after him.”

“Wha—“

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Kate.” He waved and walked off to his car, leaving me more bewildered than I had been, if that was possible.

“Sometimes life is just too confusing for words.” I muttered to myself as I started my car. Or tried to. I turned the key, and heard the starter…but my car wouldn’t start.

“Great.” I sighed, and pulled out my phone, calling the first person on my dialed calls log. “Hey, Jes? Could you come back, my car won’t start for some reason.” I paused, listening to his assurance that he would be back momentarily. “Ok, I’ll see you in a few.” I hung up and sighed, resting my forehead on the steering wheel. I just sat there, almost dozing off, until someone knocked on my window. If I hadn’t been in my seatbelt still, I probably would have banged my head into the ceiling, I was so startled.

“It’s just me, goofy!” Jesse’s laughter came muffled through my window and I unlocked my door and got out.

“Yeah, laugh it up, fuzzball!” I said, rubbing my head where it had hit.

“The good news is that your car is A-OK.” He joked, poking his head inside. “Now, do you want a jump or a ride?” he asked. I bit my lip.

“A ride – I wouldn’t feel safe driving home in the dark in a car that breaks down the way this one has been.” I admitted in a low voice. Jesse laughed and relocked my door.

“Alright, well come and get in the Jesmobile, you’ll be home in no time, honest.”

“I’d better be home soon, driver.” I said in my best snooty super star voice. “I’m having my legs shaved at ten.”

“As you wish, madame.” He said, bowing before actually getting in the car and closing the door. He turned his radio on and I heard a CD load into the player. I heard the very familiar guitar riffs at the beginning and raised my eyebrows.

“You’re listening to our CD?” I asked, trying not to laugh.

“Oh! Um, yeah.” Jesse grinned. "Just thought I should be up on all the latest trends." We talked a bit on the short drive back to my house, then parked out front. Jesse turned his car off and we looked at the house. The whole house was dark - Dad was out of town and Sheila and Mom were spending the weekend at Disney World, so I was home alone.

"Thanks." I said finally, smiling at Jesse. "For, you know, the movie and the ride and all."

"No problem." He smiled. We sat silently for a moment.

"All right, then." I said, and opened my door.

"Wait!" Jesse grabbed my arm suddenly. I turned and looked at him, absently closing the door.

"Yes?" I asked. My heart was up in my throat, pounding hard.

"I--I--Kate, there's something..." he took a shaky breath and laughed a little. "Wow, this is hard."

"Well, I'd get it over with." I said breathlessly. "You know, so you don't have to worry anymore."

"Yeah...Kate, I re--I really..." he paused and breathed deeply. "I really like you." I blinked, startled by his proclamation.

"Well, I...I really like you, too, Jes." I said, smiling a little. "I mean, you are my friend, after all."

"No, Kate." Jesse tried to smile, but just looked nervous. I knew in my heart where the conversation was heading, and somehow I wasn't dreading it. "Kate, I--I would really...I'd be honored if...that is..."

"Yes." I whispered, a smile creeping onto my face.

"I mean, I guess what I wanted to--wh...what did you say?" Jesse stammered, realizing what I had said.

"You...want to go out." I said, not really asking if I was right. Jesse nodded.

"Will you? I mean, if you don't want to that's fine, I'll understand--"

"JESSE." I put my hand up to stop him, and smiled crookedly. "I said yes."

"Ah. Right." He laughed, relieved. "Well." We looked at each other and laughed a little, blushing.

"I guess I should go." I sighed.

"Yeah." Jesse bit his lip. "Can I ask you something?"

"Yes, I suppose so." I put my head to one side.

"Will you kiss me, Kate?" he asked softly, grinning shyly.

"No. But I'll let you kiss ME." We kissed, shy and inexperianced, and I quickly got out of the car when we pulled away.

"Kate!" Jesse called out his window when I was halfway up the walk to my house. I turned and looked back at him, smiling at me. "G'night, Kissme." He said after a moment.

"Goodnight, Jes."

There are really no words to describe a kiss, especially your first, but the best I could do later when telling Anna and Elisha (the blatent self insertion) was that it glued me in place, and I couldn't have moved even if I'd wanted to.

Fan Base

2004-10-20T15:44:00.000-04:00

Chapter Fourteen: Fan Base

“Oh my gosh, it’s a real honor to meet you! You’re, like, my IDOL!” Kate kept her fake smile plastered onto her face as another backstage pass winner in Hartford went all ‘hyper valley girl’ on her.

“It’s nice to meet you. What’s your name?” she asked, trying to sound cheerful. The girl giggled with her friends and held out a t-shirt with ‘Velvet Botox’ emblazoned across the front.

“Carlie. C, A, R, L, I, E.” the girl spelled as I signed her shirt. I saw that she already had Jesse and Chris’ signatures on it.

“Well, I’m glad you came, Carlie. Enjoy the show, okay?” I kept smiling, trying desperately to actually mean what I was saying. But it was really hard. I waved to the girls as they moved as a pack in the general direction of Josh and Mark. I sighed deeply, and felt arms wrap around my waist from behind. “When does the show start?” I groaned, leaning back into the chest of my strongman.

“Soon.” Jesse promised, tightening his hug. “In about fifteen minutes, actually. Are you ready?”

“No.” I said, turning around to bury my face in his chest. “But that’s not gonna stop me from getting up there and singing my little heart out.”

“Good.” Jesse whispered, and kissed my forehead.

“Velvet Botox, five minutes to stage call!” the stage manager called across the room. I stepped back from Jesse and brushed my hands over my clothes, smoothing invisible (and visible) wrinkles and creases.

“Do I look okay?” I asked. Jesse looked me over: I was in flared jeans with embroidery and paint all over them in really cool patterns and a sort of peasant top shirt. Hair back in a strategically messy ponytail and wearing a newsboy hat. Platform sandals that no one can see under the flares of my jeans. Jesse looked at me in what I considered a silly looking outfit and smiled warmly.

“You look beautiful. All the guys will be jealous of me.” He tickled me a little. “Let’s get to the stage, kiddo.”

We were ushered onto the stage in almost complete darkness. I couldn’t see the huge crowd in the stadium we were playing in, but I remembered how big the stadium was, and I could hear the countless people as their voices echoed across the building, growing into an incomprehensable hum. When the lights came on, though…it was a roar that I swear to this day nearly knocked me down.

Josh did a little picking number on his guitar, then with a nod, started the whole band. And it was my turn.

I sang, trying not to worry about being perfect, just about having fun. It was nice that the lights were so bright, because I couldn’t see anyone further back than the mosh pit that was starting to form. I just pretended that the roar of the crowd was what I was imagining, and that Velvet Botox was really just fooling around on some stage in their off time. And, surprisingly, it worked, and I got much more relaxed by the time the third song started. Performing in front of thousands of people was FUN, darn it!

At one point, I had stepped back to let Josh and Mark have a sort of musical duel – guitar against keys, and stood behind Jesse and his drum kit.

“I love you.” I said as softly as I could into his ear as I hopped down, being sure to hold the mic as far away from my mouth as I could. Then I resumed singing, high on the experience of being a city-wide sensation, if no more.

When we were done, the crowd was deafening, and I couldn’t believe they were cheering for us. Perhaps they weren’t, and were just excited for The Brits (whose “show name” I could never remember – they were just The Brits), but they were cheering when WE were on stage, and that’s what mattered.

“They liked us!” I squealed when we got backstage, and hugged Chris, Jesse…well, all the guys. Multiple times. And I think I hugged a couple of roadies in the process.

“Of course they liked you!” a familiar (but more awake than we were used to) voice came from the general direction of the snack table. Merrit (the ever so cool) and Helen waved at us, and I lead the way there, spying crackers and cheese that looked insanely yummy. “I mixed your CD myself.” Merrit (the ever so cool) continued. “The subliminal messeges hidden within your songs guarentee everyone who listens to it will love you.” Helen poked him in the ribs.

“Please, Mer – this isn’t ‘Josie and the Pussycats Revisited’ you know.” She told him, poking him again.

“Ow! Abuse! Police!” Merrit (the ever so cool) defended himself with a butter knife. “Back, vile creature of the night!”

“You’re the only ‘creature of the night’ in this family, Merrit (the ever so cool).” Helen said calmly. “Mr. ‘I haven’t seen the sun since last fourth of July because I’m always mixing tracks at insane hours’.”

“I…” Merrit (the ever so cool) paused. “I have no witty retort at this time. But come midnight!” he grinned insanely. “Yes, I’ll have that retort one way or another.” He muttered for awhile.

“Er…right.” Helen shook her head. “I swear he’s an alien. Or something.”

“So you two really ARE siblings!” Mark exclaimed triumphantly. He turned to Chris smugly. “Toldja so.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Chris huffed and helped himself to some cheese.

“Can we go back to the trailer?” Josh asked, stifling a yawn. It rippled through the group, and I remembered what a sleepless night we’d had the night before. Helen smiled.

“No problem – you have no more responsibilities tonight.” She said, shooing us in the direction of our trailers. There were two – one big one for the boys and one smaller one for me.

“You were great, Pookie!” Chris exclaimed as we walked outside. “I can’t believe you did that well!” I blushed.

“I just sang like normal, guys, it wasn’t that big a deal.”

“Yes it was.” Josh said firmly. “It takes guts to get up in front of thousands of people and sing like that.”

“You were great, Kiss-me-Kate.” Jesse agreed. I grinned mischeiviously at him.

“Really? Well, if you insist.” I stopped him and gave him a kiss, getting a laugh from the other guys.

“Better watch your words, Jes.” Chris said, poking fun at him. “Otherwise you could end up being kissed at most inconvienient times.”

“Aw, shut it!” Jesse faked a swing at Chris’ head, and grinned at me.

“Alright, chill.” Josh laughed. “Bed time, huh? I say we turn in.”

“Sure, whatever you want, Josh.” Mark assured him. “We’ll be in Kate’s trailer talking.”

“Hey, what makes you think that I want y’all taking over my trailer?” I asked in mock indignation.

“Because you love us.” Chris said, making a badly executed puppy dog face at me. I laughed, and considered letting the guys invade my trailer for the evening. Then I looked at my watch and yawned.

“You know, I’d love to let you over, but I am dead tired. As exciting as this was, I just want to sleep right now.” I shrugged. “Sorry, Chris, but I need sleep more than you.”

“Nya!” Chris stuck his tongue out at me as we reached our trailers. “Be that way, then!”

“I shall.” I said calmly. He shrugged. “Ok, then. Hugs and g’night.” He hugged me.

“Hugs an’ g’night.” I echoed, and turned to hug the rest of the guys.

“Good job tonight, Kissme.”

“Best job yet.”

“You go, girl.” I smacked Jesse for sounding valley girl and went to my trailer. As I got ready for bed, I replayed the entire show in my mind, noticing little mistakes and large ones that the crowd hadn’t noticed, and realizing that we had actually done it: my dream had come true.

Beautiful

2004-10-19T15:46:00.000-04:00

Chapter Fifteen: Beautiful

“Oh, my gosh, we’re like your biggest fans!” a young girl and boy – brother and sister by the looks of things – watched eagerly as we signed their poster. As I had been falling asleep, someone had started pounding on my door. Merrit (the ever so cool), it had been, looking quite put out and tired himself. We were required at the after party, he said, because we had to meet the contest winner and her guest. So I pulled on my most comfortable clothes and helped Merrit (the ever so cool) drag the guys back to the party.

“Our ‘biggest fans’, eh?” Josh asked wearily. The pair nodded vigorously. “And how do you know that?” he asked them suddenly.

“Well…uh…” The girl was at a loss for words.

“You haven’t met every fan of ours.” Josh continued. “You don’t have any basis for that claim, which is wrong by the way.”

“It—it is?” the boy stammered.

“Yes.” Mark said curtly. “Our biggest fan is Jesus.”

“I’m sorry about them.” Chris said, crouching down to be eye level with the contest winner and her brother. “We were just going to bed when they told us about you two, so we’re a bit out of it. But they do have a point.”

“And,” I added as gently as I could, given my current state, “I imagine you were saying that about a different band just a few months ago, and you’ll say it about another band a few months from now.”

“No!” the girl shook her head. “We ARE your—“

“Just don’t say it, kiddo.” Jesse sighed. “I know you think you are, but so do a lot of other people.” He gave a tired smile to the kids, who were looking downcast. “But hey, that doesn’t mean you’re any less special. In fact, it makes you more special when you treat us like you would your big brothers or sisters.”

“Really?” the boy whispered.

“Really.” Josh agreed.

As much as they tried, those kids still treated us like we were superstars. Which we were, sort of, but at that point we just wanted to be normal people. By the time their parents made them leave, it was late. Later, actually, since it had been late in the first place.

“I cannot for the life of me remember their names.” I sighed as we headed once more back to our trailers.

“Kirsten and Ryan.” Jesse mumbled, falling asleep on his feet.

“Ah.” There was a long pause as we finished walking to our trailers.

“G’night.”

“Night.”

“Meh.”

And finally, despite all their efforts to be in bed early, Velvet Botox got to go to sleep at 1:30 in the morning.

~~~

“I am never going to stay up that late again.” Chris declared at IHOP the next morning.

“That’s nice.” Helen sighed, nursing a mug of coffee. She hadn’t quite reached her ‘awake’ phase yet – not enough caffiene in her system.

“No, really.” Chris insisted, staring blankly at the menu. “I cannot even think today.”

“You can’t think any other day, so why’s this different?” I asked, poking him lightly in the ribs. Truth be told, we were all insanely tired, despite the fact that we had all slept in until about ten.

“Ha ha, very funny.” He muttered.

“It’s the stress.” Merrit (the ever so cool) said, getting all our attention. He was not a morning person, and hadn’t yet spoken that particular morning. “We were all so stressed out last night because it was your first big show, and now we’re all tired because of it.”

“That…makes sense.” Jesse nodded, almost asleep as he sat there. The waitress came by with our breakfasts, and he blinked awake immediately, as did Chris. “Hey! Bacon!”

“And waffles…mmm, waffles.” Chris grinned, grabbing the syrup. It was as if a switch had been turned in all the boys – they were suddenly awake and very intent on inhaling their food. I looked at Helen and the two of us shared a smile that only girls understand: ‘Men: can’t live with them, can’t train them.’

“I don’t ever want to sign another autograph.” I said. Helen raised an eyebrow.

“But I thought you wanted to be an actress?” she asked, both of us ignoring the boys who were – incidentally – ignoring us.

“I do.” I agreed. “But a stage actress, not a movie or TV actress.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Well, when you work the stage,” I explained, “Most of the people are going to ask for your autograph because they thought you were good. And about 99.9% of people don’t recognize you when you walk down the street, and there aren’t any tabloids and paperazzi following your every move.”

“Ah.” My ‘fellow’ blonde nodded, downing the last of her coffee and looking for the waitress with the coffee pot. “That makes sense.”

“Anyway,” I added, “It’s much easier to put on a good show when you have an audience, and it’s more challenging because you don’t get multiple takes. And I always like a good artistic challenge.” I grimaced as the boys – having finished their breakfasts – proceeded to have a burping contest.

“That. Is. Disgusting.” Helen stated, frighteningly calm. “Please stop.” The boys rolled their eyes and gave her those ‘make me!’ looks, but didn’t resume burping.

Helen has a special gift. I fear her and respect her for it. She scares the boys.

“We were done anyway.” Merrit (the ever so cool) muttered, trying to salvage at least SOME of his dignity. I laughed and rolled my eyes.

“Sure you were.” I said, poking him as best I could across the table. “You finished? Then let’s GO!”

~~~

It wasn’t much later that day when we got a call requesting a video interview with some local ‘What’s Hot’ show.

“It’s up to you whether or not you want to do it.” Merrit (the ever so cool) told us (Helen was getting a massage, and was not to be bothered). “I tend to trust these little shows a lot less than the big ones, because if they want to up ratings, they’ll falsify and spread rumors as truth.” He looked a bit worried, but didn’t say anything more.

“Well, regardless, I think we should.” Mark said. “Besides, what rumors could there possibly be out there about us? We’re new to the scene?” Josh nodded.

“Mark’s got a good point.” He said. “Vote time: all for doing the interview, let yourselves be known.” Those voting employed various crazy affirmations. I, for example, shouted “viva la vie bohéme!” and pumped my fist in the air. “Unanimous.” Josh laughed and turned to Merrit (the ever so cool) and nodded. “Tell them we’ll do it.”

“Okay.” Merrit (the ever so cool) said dubiously. “It’s your funeral.”

~~~

“So, Jesse, tell me what you think of Kate.” The interviewer, Lucy Kolea, asked. I didn’t like the looks of her particularly, mostly because she reminded me of all the preppy cheerleaders at school (which I had graduated from, finally).

“She’s awesome.” Jesse beamed. “But she doesn’t give herself enough credit. Kate thinks she’s mediocre, not that good of a singer. That couldn’t be farther from the truth.” He looked over Lucy’s shoulder to where I was standing, and smiled at me. “She’s absolutely amazing.”

“Well, that was wonderful, kids, thank you.” Lucy smiled an extremely fake smile at us as her camera guys cleaned up their equipment. “It was so nice of you to let me interview you while you’re on tour!”

“It was no problem, Ms. Kolea.” Josh said politely. “Now, if you’ll excuse us…”

“Oh, of course, you have to practice for the big show tonight.” Lucy made a big show of being extremely excited. “I can’t wait to see you perform! Tootles!” she bustled off after her retreating camera men.

“Tootles.” I mimcked once she was out of earshot, crossing my eyes and waving my hand around. “Oh, Jesse, tell me about Kate! You must get ready for the big show.” I snorted. “Bah humbug. She’s a freak.” Chris smirked.

“You’ve got that right, Pookie.” He agreed. “She was like a cheerleader who grew up and never learned that cheerleaders suck.”

“Oh, thanks for not calling me that, Chris.” I added sarcastically, lightly punching him in the arm.

“Owie…” he pouted and rubbed the spot where I’d hit him. “It was an accident!” I hugged him and laughed.

“I know, it’s okay.” I assured him.

“Well, she was right about one thing.” Mark said, cracking his knuckles.

“What’s that?”

“We have to practice for the ‘big show’.” He grinned. “Shall we jam?” We all looked hopefully at Josh, who raised his eyebrows.

“Why are you asking me?”

“Because you’re our fearless leader, fearless leader.” Jesse said. Josh nodded and pretended to be thinking for a moment. Then he smiled, a mischievious twinkle in his eyes.

“Let’s jam.”

~~~

“You’d think we’d get used to this.” Chris groaned, his head resting on the table in front of us. We were in IHOP again – Atlanta, Georgia this time, and a month and a half into the tour.

“I still say we should’ve gone to the Waffle House.” Mark insisted.

“IHOP has better coffee.” Helen said, refilling her mug. “Not that either of them has GOOD coffee.”

“I’m getting french toast.” I declared. Chris raised an eyebrow.

“Um…Thanks for sharing?” I smacked him in the head with my menu.

“I’ve been thinking about french toast a lot recently, and it gave me a craving for it.” I explained. Chris raised his other eyebrow and asked (silently, through his eyes) why the heck I had been thinking about french toast. “Alex (the not so blatent friend insertion)’s novel.” I said. “Matti had french toast almost every morning it seems like.”

“Oh, did Elisha (the blatent self insertion) finally email it to you?” he asked, perking up a bit. I nodded. “Forward it to me, would you?”

“Already did, slowpoke.” I told him. “You just don’t check your e-mail.”

“Can we please discuss something we all understand?” Josh asked sleepily. A chorus of yes’s (and a no) answered his question. “Okay.” He nodded slowly. “That means Mark can’t discuss anything. When do we get to order?” he glanced around for the waitress, who was heading over to us as he spoke.

“What can I get for you?” she asked, popping her gum and looking at Mark. Mark looked down at his menu then up at the girl.

“Ok, we’ll take two blueberry pancakes with bacon, one belgian waffle with sausage, three all star platters, one steak and eggs, and one french toast.” He said, ordering for all of us. “Oh, and white bread for toast. And a bagel.” The girl raised her eyebrows a little but didn’t comment.

“Anything else?”

“Er, no, I think that’s it.” Mark looked at us and we all nodded, half asleep.

“How can you be so awake?” I asked him when the waitress had left. He shrugged innocently.

“I know why.” Merrit (the ever so cool) yawned. “He skipped out on the meet and greet last night after the concert, and went to sleep.”

“Hey, a guy’s gotta get some rest, you know!” Mark defended himself.

“But not at the expense of us!” Jesse exclaimed in mock anger. “I can’t bear to see you anymore. Begone!”

“Aw, fine.” Mark teased. “But you have to wait until I get my breakfast.”

“Is that her?”

“Oh my gosh, it is!” Soft, indistinct voices came from a couple tables to the left of us. There was a group of girls whispering and looking at us – more specifically, at me.

“Vanessa says…….brainless…….ugly, though…” little bits of conversation floated over. I blushed, thinking they must be talking about me, and feeling hurt that they thought I was ugly. But then one of the louder girls said something.

“Well, Vanessa may be ugly, but Kissme’s not. She’s really cool.”

“Should we ask for her autograph?”

“No, she looks tired – let’s just leave her alone…” I smiled and brought my attention back to the conversation on G.I. Joes that was going on at my table. It was nice to know people didn’t think I was ugly – that they thought I was cool.

~~~

We didn’t have a show that day, and it was nice to just hang out. I had gone out alone to the local bookstore to get a couple books I’d been wanting, and got back at about nine. There was no one in Helen and Merrit (the ever so cool)’s trailer, and no one in mine (obviously). A light was on in the boy’s trailer, and I figured that must be where everyone was. As I walked up the steps, I heard voices, and the sounds of what was apparently a TV program.

“Oh, Lord…” someone whispered a prayer.

“Don’t let Kate see this.”

“Don’t let Kate see what?” I asked, coming in, curious. Everyone – Helen included – was standing around the TV with far too innocent looks on their faces. I thought, at first, that the TV was turned off, but I saw the flicker of the lights and shooed everyone away. “What’s this?”

“It’s…a video of that interview you did in Conneticut.” Helen said slowly. “But it’s really crappy and—“

“I want to see!” I laughed. “What’s the matter, think I’ll obsess over myself?” I reached down and hit the rewind button and the mute button, so I could turn the sound back on. “Now, let’s see what got on.” I pressed Play and sat back.

“Velvet Botox.” The host said. “Not a new form of plastic surgery, but a band that is sweeping the nation. This band, which originated in the Tampa Bay area of Florida, is slowly but surely becoming a household name, but why? What is it about Velvet Botox that draws people in?” There was a group shot of us, which zoomed in on me. It wasn’t the most flattering shot, but it wasn’t bad, I thought. “It certainly isn’t Kate Leighan, the lead singer.” The host continued. “’Kissme Kate’, as she’s called by her fellow band members, has a mediocre voice and little sex appeal; a tag along band member that could potentially drag the entire group down.” I stared at the TV screen, not really noticing that the show had moved on to saying how great Jesse was, and how he was single (WHAT?!).

“I…I have to go.” I said, trying to choke back the tears in my eyes. I looked back at the TV, where Jesse was talking about me.

“She’s mediocre, not that great of a singer.” He was saying – they had convieniently cut out the first two words of the sentence: “Kate thinks”. I sighed and turned to leave.

“Kate, are you—“

“I’ll see you later.” I hurried out, heading for my trailer. I could tell someone was following me, but ignored them and just stormed upset into my trailer.

“Pookie, it’s okay.” Chris, then, who had followed me.

“I must be terrible.” I whispered to myself. Chris heard and shook his head.

“Don’t listen to those idiots; they were lying about Josh, don’t you think they’d lie about you?”

“Am I really that bad?” I asked, oblivious to Chris.

“NO!” he grabbed my shoulders and made me look at him. I shoved him away and grabbed a blanket. “You’re great, really amazing! Really, you’re—“

“I’m terrible!” I screamed, sick of hearing him talk and throwing a teddy bear at his head. “I’m a terrible singer and a terrible rock star and I’m ugly and you’d be better off without me!” I continued throwing things, sometimes at Chris’ head and sometimes at nothing. I finally ran out of things to throw so I threw myself down on my little trailer bed, sobbing. I felt the bed move, and suddenly Chris was cradling me and hugging me tightly. I tried to shove him off of me, but I was crying too hard, and not really trying. “Go away!”

“No.” he said softly, almost sounding as if he was crying too. “No, Pookie. You’re not a terrible singer, I’m not going away, and we do need you.” He whispered into my ear, stroking my hair and rocking as if I were one of his little cousins who had fallen and scraped her knee, or been called names at school. “And you are NOT ugly.” He added seriously.

“Yes I am.” I cried. “I am, I am, I am…”

“Says who?” Chris asked. “Those idiot reporters? Who are they to tell you you’re ugly?” He kissed the top of my head in that brotherly way he had done since we were little. “You’re beautiful, Pookie. Drop dead, jaw dropping gorgeous.” I gave a half hearted laugh. Chris just sighed and started singing softly to me, a song I had listened to over and over, and made him learn on the guitar; but he changed it, just a bit, and sang it to me.

“You want to be beautiful
Make us stand in awe
Look inside your heart and be amazed
You want to hear us say
Who you are is quite enough
You want to be worthy of love
And beautiful…”

My tears lessened and I hiccuped a bit, feeling myself dropping off to sleep.

“I’m not, Chris.” I insisted wearily. “I’m worthless.”

“Don’t you ever say that.” Chris said sternly. “Never ever say that again.”

“But—“

“Never, Kate.” I sighed and buried my face in his shirt. He continued stroking my hair. “How does the song end? I’ve forgotten.”

“You’re not pulling that on me, Christopher.” I said grumpily.

“Aw…please?” I could tell without looking that he was putting on his ‘begging’ face, which was truly irresistable. I yawned and started singing half heartedly, still sniffing and hiccuping occasionally.

“Lord, you make me beautiful
You make me stand in awe
You step inside my heart and I am amazed
I love to hear you say
Who I am is quite enough
You make me worthy of love
And beau…ti…ful…”

My eyelids drooped, and I felt Chris slide himself gently out from under me. Just before I fell asleep, I felt him smooth my hair away from my face and heard him whisper: “Sweet dreams, my beautiful girl.” Then he was gone, and I was asleep.

Color Me!

2004-10-18T09:23:00.000-04:00

Chapter Sixteen: Color Me!

“It really sucks being recognizable sometimes.” I confided to Anna at Blue Moon Coffee in August. We were finally back in Tampa, and the big ‘home town show’ was in two days.

“’Recognizable’?” Anna asked, laughing. “Sweetie, you’re FAMOUS.”

“Even worse!” I groaned, flopping back in the chair I was sitting in. “I just want to be normal again, you know? Not have people mobbing me every time I go to Walmart for my hair dye or whatever.”

“Speaking of hair dye,” Anna leaned forward, “Aren’t you due for a color change soon?” I grinned.

“Been waiting to get back to go to Julio.” I answered. “You should know that.”

“What’s it going to be?”

“Oh, Anna, I thought you knew me!” I pouted, feigning hurt feelings. Anna rolled her eyes.

“Right, you don’t tell anyone except Julio what you want done until it’s done.” She recited in a sing song voice.

“Right!” I laughed, then jumped when my phone started vibrating. I had it on silent, but had forgotten to turn the vibrate option off. “Hang on a sec.” I said, and pulled my phone out. It wasn’t a caller – it was a voice mail from a call that hadn’t made it through to my phone. I dialed my voice mail number and punched in my passcode, smiling when the message started.

It was Elisha (the blatent self insertion) in an insane sing song voice that made her sound very valley girl. She was quoting RENT, verbatim, and it was funny as heck.

“Marky, Alicia Darling, Memorial Day weekend, West Hamptons, on the beach.” Elisha (the blatent self insertion) ’s voice sing songed. “Just saw Alec Baldwin, told him you say hi. Just kidding. We still need directors, you still need money. You know you need money. Don’t be afraid of kerching kerching. Marky, sell us your soul. Just kidding. We’re waiting.” I saved the messege and shook my head.

“That was probably the most creative voice mail I’ve ever gotten.” I declared to Anna, who looked curious but didn’t say anything. “Now, what’s been going on here?”

“Not much.” Anna admitted. “Mostly we’ve been waiting for y’all to get back.”

“Aw, I feel loved!” I smiled angelically at Anna, who rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, you should.” She said, sticking her tongue out at me in fun. “We’ve been publicizing for you five for almost two months now.”

“Thank you.” I said sincerely.

“No problema, chica.” Anna gave me a sitting half bow. We were quiet for a minute before I thought of a new topic.

“So, did you hear about that TV show in Conneticut?” I asked. Anna tipped her head.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Ok, so this is what happened.” I shifted in my seat and got more comfortable. “Somebody who works for some TV station in Conneticut interviewed us for a segment. And she made outrageous claims and edited our responses so it sounds like we’re saying things we never said, and she was SO pounding on me for no reason!” I finished. “I mean, it’s like she was jealous of me, so she set out to ruin me.” Anna grimaced.

“That bad, eh?”

“Let’s just say it’s a good thing I didn’t know her address, because once I got over having hurt feelings, I was livid.” I sighed. “But that, thankfully, was about a month and a half ago and she was a…well, you know.” I gave Anna a ‘significant glance’, which she understood.

“I get you.” She wrinkled her nose. “It’s like the wicked stepmother, only so much worse.”

I blinked in confusion, about to ask her what in the world she meant, when I heard a familiar voice walk in the door.

“Are you ready? Hold that focus—steady!” the voice sang. “Tell the folks back home what you’re doing, Roger.”

“I’m writing one great song—“ a second familiar voice sang half-heartedly. I laughed quietly, and pointed the pair out to Anna, who grinned. It was just the sort of thing they’d do – a reenactment in public for all to hear, despite the fact that it was quite odd.

The first voice, exasperated: “The phone rings!”

“Saved!”

“We screen, zoom in on the—hey, look, it’s Kate and Anna!” the owner of the first voice squealed and ran over, the second close on her heels. “I didn’t know you guys came here!”

“Hello to you too, Elisha (the blatent self insertion) .” Anna laughed.

“Hey, Alex (the not so blatent friend insertion).” I waved to the younger girl, who returned the favor.

“We didn’t know you two came here either.” Anna smiled and scooted her chair over. “Have a seat!”

“Don’t mind if we do!” Elisha (the blatent self insertion) grabbed a chair and spun it so it faced away from the table and sat in it backwards, like it was cool to do in the 90’s. Alex (the not so blatent friend insertion) sat down in a slightly more normal fashion. I looked at them curiously, taking in their outfits. Alex (the not so blatent friend insertion) was wearing plaid pants, a grey shirt, and was carrying a black leather jacket. Elisha (the blatent self insertion) was wearing a navy blue and white scarf, and a thin burgandy sweater with a navy blue stripe across the chest, and blue jeans.

“So…aren’t you two dressed a little warm for August?” I asked sweetly. Elisha (the blatent self insertion) fwapped me with her scarf, and if I had been insane enough to wear mine in the middle of summer, I would have retaliated.

“We’re on our way to a show, if you must know.” Alex (the not so blatent friend insertion) said haughtily, the twinkle in her eye attesting to the fact that she was being silly.

“Oh?” Anna asked, curious. “And what show would that be?”

“The talent show that we’re in,” Elisha (the blatent self insertion) said proudly. “We get way more than the usual three minutes – we’ve got about…oh, what would you say, Alex (the not so blatent friend insertion), fifteen?” she looked at her friend, who shook her head.

“More like twenty, I think – we’re doing the opening monologue through the title song, then the Tango: Maureen, remember?”

“Oh, right!” Elisha (the blatent self insertion) nodded. “I keep leaving the Tango: Maureen out of my calculations.” She shrugged and turned back to me and Anna. “Anywho, we’re doing a sort of teaser for RENT – it’s coming to Tampa on this year’s tour, and hitting Florida in October instead of November, so we thought we’d try to get people interested.”

“Sounds fun!” I grinned. “Can we come?” The two girls looked at each other sheepishly.

“Um…it’s sort of only for certain ‘important’ people from the theater subscribers…” Alex (the not so blatent friend insertion) explained.

“Ah. The rich people, huh? Well, that’s okay.” I patted Elisha (the blatent self insertion) on the shoulder. “Let us know how it goes, okay? If it goes well, we’ll buy you coffee to celebrate.”

“Yay, coffee!” the girls cheered and high fived each other and started doing some sort of half chant thing. “Coffee coffee, it’s good it’s a hit, coffee coffee, don’t leave home without it!” They laughed at the looks they were getting and popped up out of their seats.

“We’d probably better go.” Elisha (the blatent self insertion) said, a hint of regret in her voice. “But we’ll see you tomorrow or something, okay?”

“Sure thing – see you later!” I waved.

“Have a good day, er, evening!” Anna called after them. She turned back to me with a smile on her face. “Well…those two are quite the characters, huh?”

“Yes, yes they are.” I agreed, laughing. “I feel much better now.”

“Oh, that’s good!” Anna’s nose crinkled, the way it did when she was trying very hard not to laugh. “Maybe we should market them as a cure for depression!” We looked at each other and burst out laughing. It was wonderful to be home.

~~~

“I had no idea how much I missed practicing here.” Mark smiled and fondly patted the stage in the Tampa Bay Baptist Church youth hall. It was comforting to be back in our old haunt again, and in long-missed company. Anna had picked Dave up on her way over, so we had our other singer and a guitar player back for a day or so. Brad had taken a short vacation from school to see us in our ‘hometown’ concert, and we had been completely surprised when he had shown up to let us into the church like he always had before.

“It’s definitely good to be home.” I said, smiling at Jesse. Jesse smiled back, but it was almost hesitant. I was confused, but the odd smile was quickly pushed out of my mind.

“Play for us, oh famous ones!” Dave insisted to Josh, apparently continuing a conversation that I had missed.

“And I told you again – I want to play WITH you guys tonight!” Josh said adamantly. Brad rolled his eyes.

“Alright, why don’t you play a few songs for us, and THEN play with us?” he suggested. Josh opened his mouth to protest, but Mark and Chris quickly shut him up.

“We’ll take that!” Chris said, dragging Josh up onto the stage. “C’mon, Joshy, let’s play for our old friends!”

“Fine! Kissme, get up here.” He motioned for me to go up on stage with the rest of them, so I rolled my eyes at Anna and went. “Right.” Josh thought for a moment. “Let’s start with ‘Color Me’ and see where it goes from there. It’s sort of a slightly formal jam session, with these guys, so riff if you want, and all that.”

“Aye aye, cap’n!” Jesse saluted and started the drum beat. One by one, the other instruments came in, and it was my turn to sing. And sing I did. ‘Color Me’ was a song I knew backwards and forwards – having sung it every concert on the tour – so I didn’t have to devote the attention to the lyrics that I once would have. Obviously I focused on singing well, but I had found that when I concentrate on it too hard – my singing goes down the tubes. So I watched Anna and Dave and Brad as they listened. When we started, they were tapping, nodding, or bobbing along with the music, recognizing the song from our CD. But after a few lines, they…stopped. And they just listened. I saw Anna looking up on me with this look of pride and amazement on her face. I didn’t understand it, personally; I mean, we were still the same old band, what was so amazing about it? When we finished, the three of them cheered, and I took a dramatic bow, recalling my glory days as the middle school Drama Queen.

“Thank you, thank you!” I called. “I’d like to thank all the little musicians I had to step on to get here today! And my manager, Helen, and my producer, Merrit (the ever so cool), and those guys that play the instruments!” I would have gone on longer, but I was picked up by two very ungentlemanly young men named Chris and Jesse.

“’Those guys that play the instruments’, huh, Pookie?” Chris grinned wickedly, holding my arms, and began moving down the stage stairs to the carpet, Jesse following with my feet.

“Boys, what do we do to unappreciative little ‘back up’ singers?” Jesse asked the rest of my friends. I squealed and wiggled, trying to escape. The boys moved in menacingly.

“NOOOOOO!” I screamed with laughter as I was tickled from all sides. “Need! Scarfy! Wrath!” I gasped, my eyes starting to water from laughing so hard. I couldn’t even flail my arms and legs to keep the barbarians at bay – Chris and Jesse had securely pinned my arms and legs.

“VIVA LA VIE BOHEME!” a battle cry came from the doorway, and the Laptop Girls (led by Elisha (the blatent self insertion) and Alex (the not so blatent friend insertion) – thus the battle cry) stormed the room in an attempt to save me. It was…less than successful until Beth discovered that Jesse spazzed when you squeezed his knee, and it all went downhill for my attackers from there.

“KISMET!” Alex (the not so blatent friend insertion) shouted triumphantly as the boys relinquished me. Anna – the only person who hadn’t gotten involved in the entire thing – was sitting on the floor laughing so hard that her face was bright red and tears were running down her cheeks.

“That…was too…funny!” she gasped finally.

“Don’t let your guard down!” Aubrey (the fedora girl) warned. “Those boys’ll be on us like jam on toast if we don’t keep an eye on them.” Amanda raised an eyebrow.

“’Jam on toast’?”

“Shut up.”

“I suggest we parley.” Josh called out. “Send out one of your own, and we’ll send out one of ours, and they will reach an agreement!” The Laptop Girls had a nearly intantaneous conference and chose Elisha (the blatent self insertion) to be our representative.
The boys sent out Chris. The two of them met in the center of the room, and spoke so quietly that we really couldn’t hear what they were talking about. There was a lot of gesturing and a few one word exclamations, but nothing substatial. As we watched, they seemed to be getting closer and closer to an agreement – negotiating the terms, as it were. Finally, they both grinned widely and shook hands, returning to their respective sides.

“Well? What’s the sitch?” Anna asked, still giggling slightly.

“The deal is this.” Elisha (the blatent self insertion) said solemnly. “The boys will call off their attack, as will we, IF…” she paused dramatically. Alex (the not so blatent friend insertion) poked her and ruined her moment, so she stuck her tongue out, but continued. “IF Kate and Jesse kiss.”

“That’s all?” Beth asked. Elisha (the blatent self insertion) shook her head.

“No. The kiss must be photographed or video taped to be distributed however Anna and Chris see fit.” She explained. My jaw dropped.

“Nuh-uh. No.” I shook my head.

“WHAT?” Jesse yelped from the boy’s side, evidentally having just found out the deal as well.

“It was either that or record you both singing ‘La Vie Boheme’ in its entirety.” Elisha (the blatent self insertion) shrugged. I opened my mouth to protest, but nothing came out. I glared at her for a moment, then sighed.

“Fine. If Jesse’s up to it, then fine.” I held out my hands as if I were waiting to be cuffed. “Take me now, officer!” Elisha (the blatent self insertion) and Aubrey grabbed my wrists and dragged me to the middle of the room. Jesse was also being led over reluctantly.

“I’ll go get the camera!” Brad said with a little too much enthusiasm for my comfort. I smiled apologetically at Jesse.

“Well…” I trailed off. He nodded.

“Yeah. I guess it could be worse, though, right?” He grinned hopefully.

“How?” I was skeptical.

“No idea.” He answered with a shrug. “But I’m sure it could be.”

“Back!” Brad ran back in with a digital camera AND a video camera. I grimaced slightly, wondering what exactly was going to be done with this – blackmail for sure.

“Ok, give me the video camera.” Chris took the piece of equipment from Brad, who turned the digital camera on and made sure the flash was on. Chris turned to ‘record’ and aimed the camera at us. “Right, kids, now give it your best shot.”

“Um…” Jesse leaned down and pecked me on the cheek. “Okay, done!” He grinned hopefully at Chris, who shook his head.

“No. A real kiss, Jes! A nice long one, too!” Jesse sighed and looked down at me.

“You sure you’re okay with this?” he asked softly. I nodded.

“I wouldn’t have agreed to do this if I wasn’t.”

“Right. Okay. Right.” Jesse took a deep breath, then leaned down and kissed me. The actual lip lock (if you could call it that) was rather short, but we didn’t move really after we were done – we kept our lips mere milimeters apart, hoping that the camera angle was such that they’d think we were still kissing.

“I wonder how long we can keep this up.” I whispered, trying not to move my mouth much or laugh.

“Not too much longer,” Jesse answered, equally quiet. “They’ll start to suspect something. Or think we’re frenching or something.”

“Ick. I don’t get that, by the way.”

“What, Frenching?”

“Yeah.”

“Me neither.”

“Hey! What are you guys DOING?” Beth screeched. “No way you’re still kissing!”

“Oh, I dunno,” Josh joked. “That Jesse’s quite the ladies man.”

“Ha, ha, very funny.” Jesse looked up and wrinkled his nose. “I’m not and you know it.”

“Well, you’re definitely a lady’s (singular possessive) man.” Elisha (the blatant self insertion) laughed. “You belong to Kate, and she’s a lady.”

“She is?” Chris and Jesse asked in mock shock at the same time. I swatted Jesse’s arm (since Chris was too far away) and glared at them.

“Enough of THAT!” I said huffily. Chris (who was still taping us) put his eye back to the view finder.

“Hey, Jesse, one more kiss for the fans!” he egged Jesse to kiss me again.

“What fans?” Jesse asked, then smiled at me. “May I?”

“Of course.” I smiled back, and we kissed again – nothing long or earth shattering, but wonderful all the same.

“And cut!” Chris turned the camera off. “That’s a wrap! You get the stills, Brad?”

“Yes, sir!” Brad smiled and held up the digital camera. “All right here.”

“You know what this means, right?” Chris asked mischieviously.

“Uh-oh…” I muttered.

“To the internet!” they chorused, and took off for Josh’s quasi-office. Josh just shook his head as he laughed.

“Well, I hope they know what they’re doing. If they break my computer, they’re toast.”

Random Chapter One

2004-10-17T09:36:00.000-04:00

The Chapter That Didn’t Happen (but is included to up my word count)
“We should rush next week.” Anna said.

“We’re GOING to rush next week.” I replied. “The question is whether or not we can do it with permission or not.” We were outside on my deck – Anna, Jesse, Chris, and me.

“What’s rushing?” Jesse asked curiously.

“For RENT tickets. You know.” Chris answered.

“RENT? What’s that?”

"You've never seen RENT?" I asked, aghast for some unapparent reason. Jesse wasn't a theater geek like Anna, Chris and I were. I turned to my fellow geeks. "We must give him a taste of what he's missing. “Chris, you still have that music only version of the soundtrack?"

"I'm getting it now!" he said, running across the street to his house. Jesse looked at us incredulously.

"You...have a music only version of a broadway musical?"

"Yep!" Anna grinned. "Because we like to perform." she turned to me. "Am I everyone but Mark or Roger this time?"

"Everyone but Mark, Roger, and Mimi." I replied. "Although I don't know if we'll even get as far as Mimi." Chris came running back in.

"Here it is!" he said, triumphantly holding aloft a CD. He stuck it in the CD player and put it on pause. "Ok, let's show him what for!"

"It's a good thing we're on the deck and not inside." Anna murmured to me. I grinned.

"Ready? Alright then, here goes - the Chris, Anna, and Kate three man--"

"Person!"

"--rendition of RENT." I cleared my throat and began speaking, grabbing the 16mm camera model we'd made as a prop for our sophomore year talent show entry. "We begin on Christmas Eve with me, Mark, and my roommate, Roger. We live in an industrial loft on the corner of 11th street and Avenue B, the top floor of what was once a music publishing factory. Old rock 'n' roll posters hang on the walls. They have Roger's picture advertising gigs at CBGB's and the Pyramid Club. We have an illegal wood burning stove; its exhaust pipe crawls up to a skylight. All of our electrical appliances are plugged into one thick extension cord which snakes its way out a window. Outside, a small tent city has sprung up in the lot next to our building. Inside, we are freezing because we have no heat." I turned the 'camera' towards Chris, who was tuning his guitar (not bass). "Smile!" Anna hit the play button, and Chris continued tuning in time with the music. I took a deep breath, hoping Jesse wouldn't think I was insane, and sang.

"December 24th, Nine PM
Eastern Standard Time
From here on in
I shoot without a script
See if anything comes of it
Instead of my old shit
First shot -- Roger
Tuning the Fender guitar
He hasn't played in a year."

"This won't tune." Chris grumbled.

"So we hear," I continued. "He's just coming back
From half a year of withdrawal."

"Are you talking to me?"

"Not at all," I grinned and turned the 'camera' onto Chris.
"Are you ready? Hold that focus -- steady
Tell the folks at home what you're doing Roger ..."

"I'm writing one great song --" Chris sang, cut off by the effect of a phone ringing. I sighed.

"The phone rings."

"Saved!"

"We screen
Zoom in on the answering machine!"

"Speak" ... ("Beeeep!")

Anna stood, hands in choir position. "That was a very loud beep
I don't even know if this is working
Mark -- Mark -- are you there
Are you screening your calls --
It's mom
We wanted to call and say we love you
And we'll miss you tomorrow
Cindy and the kids are here -- send their love
Oh, I hope you like the hot plate
Just don't leave it on, dear
When you leave the house
Oh, and Mark
We're sorry to hear that Maureen dumped you
I say c'est la vie
So let her be a lesbian..." she paused a moment.
"There are other fishies in the sea
... Love Mom!" Anna stepped back and I focused the 'camera' on Chris again.

"Tell the folks at home what you're doing Roger."

"I'm writing one great song --" and he was once again interrupted.

"The phone rings." I sighed.

"Yesss!"

"We screen."

"Speak" ... ("Beeeep!")

"Chestnuts roasting ---" The voice wasn’t one of our trio’s – we looked over quickly to see Alex (the not so blatent friend insertion) and Elisha (the blatent self insertion) , who had snuck onto the deck without any of us seeing. The rest of the Laptop Girls were in tow, and sitting down by Jesse.

“This should be interesting.” I heard Amanda mutter.

”Collins!” Chris, Elisha (the blatent self insertion) , and I chorused. Elisha (the blatent self insertion) shook her head at mea and motioned for me to talk to Alex (the not so blatent friend insertion) when she was done.

”I'm downstairs.” Alex (the not so blatent friend insertion) said.

”Hey!” Elisha (the blatent self insertion) held her cell phone to her ear.

”Roger picked up the phone??”

”No, it's me.”

”Throw down the key.” Elisha (the blatent self insertion) , as requested, pulled a little bag out of her pocket and tossed it to Alex (the not so blatent friend insertion), who caught it splendidly with one hand

”A wild night is now pre-ordained” Elisha (the blatent self insertion) grinned. Alex (the not so blatent friend insertion) looked worriedly behind her, and I was suddenly impressed by this pair’s acting abilities.

“I may be detained.”

“What does he mean...?” Elisha (the blatent self insertion) asked, looking at Chris. The phone ringing sound came again. “What do you mean "detained"?” I started singing, as per my new instructions. I wasn’t as solid in the words to this role, but that was alright.

“Ho ho ho.”

”Benny! Shit.” Chris and Elisha (the blatent self insertion) chorused. Neither one of them actually swore on a day to day basis, but for the play…well, Elisha (the blatent self insertion) especially was an actress to the core.

”Dudes, I'm on my way”

”Great! Fuck.” All of us winced, but felt that it was something that shouldn’t be glossed over for the RENT newbies.

”I need the rent” I tried to act (and sound) rich and arrogant. I didn’t do too well on that.

”What rent?” Elisha (the blatent self insertion) asked.

”This past year's rent which I let slide”

”Let slide? You said we were 'golden'!”

”When you bought the building” Chris added.

”When we were roommates.”

“Remember -- you lived here!?”

” How could I forget?” I snorted derisively – I hoped.
”You, me, Collins and Maureen
How is the drama queen?”

”She's performing tonight.” Elisha (the blatent self insertion) said reluctantly.

”I know.
Still her production manager?”

”Two days ago I was bumped.”

”You still dating her?”

”Last month I was dumped” Elisha (the blatent self insertion) sighed.

”She's in love.” Chris said sappily.

”She's got a new man?”

Elisha (the blatent self insertion) laughed. ”Well – no.”

”What's his name?” I asked, my character not really paying attention. Chris and Elisha (the blatent self insertion) (Roger and Mark) looked at each other and shrugged.

”Joanne.” They said as one.

”Rent, my amigos, is due
Or I will have to evict you.” I smiled to myself.
”Be there in a few.”

Chris mimed picking the melody of Musetta’s Waltz, from the opera ‘La Boheme’, on his guitar, as the sound came from the boom box. Suddenly, the guitar on the recording went dead. Elisha (the blatent self insertion) threw up her hands in exasperation.

“The power blows!”

When the music for the title song (Rent, obviously) started up, Elisha (the blatent self insertion) and Alex (the not so blatent friend insertion) completely took over the ‘stage’. I think one of them mentioned something about trying out a two-person rendition of the song, which just seemed insane to me. Elisha (the blatent self insertion) started, singing Mark’s part.

“How do you document real life
When real life is getting more
Like fiction each day
Headlines -- bread-lines
Blow my mind
And now this deadline
’Eviction -- or pay’
Rent!”

Alex (the not so blatent friend insertion) broke in. “How do you write a song
When the chords sound wrong
Though they once sounded right and rare
When the notes are sour
Where is the power
You once had to ignite the air.”

“And we're hungry and frozen”

“Some life that we've chosen”

“How we gonna pay,” The girls had been singing complete with movement and interaction, and now they put their faces so close to each other that it looked like they might be ready to kiss at any moment. Which, thankfully, they didn’t.
”How we gonna pay
How we gonna pay
Last year's rent?”

“We light candles” Elisha (the blatent self insertion) complained.

“How do you start a fire
When there's nothing to burn
And it feels like something's stuck in your flue”

“How can you generate heat
When you can't feel your feet”

“And they're turning blue!” they chorused.

“You light up a mean blaze.” Elisha (the blatent self insertion) started.

“With posters—“

“And screenplays”

“How we gonna pay
How we gonna pay
How we gonna pay
Last year's rent?” the last sequence was, obviously, sung in unison using the same choreaography as the first time. Jesse was looking beamused and puzzled, not sure what to think of our…er…performance. The music changed slightly, and Elisha (the blatent self insertion) moved over to the phone for her part.

“Don't screen, Maureen
It's me -- Joanne
Your substitute production manager
Hey hey hey! (Did you eat?)
Don't change the subject Maureen
But darling -- you haven't eaten all day
You won't throw up
You won't throw up
The digital delay --
Didn't blow up (exactly)
There may have been one teeny tiny spark
You're not calling Mark!”

“How do you stay on your feet
When on every street
It's 'trick or treat'
(And tonight it's 'trick')” Alex (the not so blatent friend insertion) crooned, pretending she was in pain and trouble.
'Welcome back to town'
Oh, I should lie down
Everything's brown
And uh -- oh
I feel sick

“Where is he?”

“Getting dizzy”

”How we gonna pay
How we gonna pay
How we gonna pay
Last year's rent?” obvious, eh? I’m not going to explain what those girls did again. The music changed again, and Alex (the not so blatent friend insertion) stepped forward.

“Alison baby -- you sound sad
I don't believe those two after everything I've done
Ever since our wedding I'm dirt -- They'll see
I can help them all out in the long run”

Then the two girls started singing simultaneously.
”Forces are gathering,” Alex (the not so blatent friend insertion) sang.
”Forces are gathering
Can't turn away
Forces are gathering.”

Elisha (the blatent self insertion) , on the other hand, laughed and half talked her way through her screen test. "The music ignites the night with passionate fire
The narration crackles and pops with incendiary wit
Zoom in as they burn the past to the ground
And feel the heat of the future's glow” The double singing fell off, and Elisha (the blatent self insertion) ‘answered’ the telephone.

“Hello? Maureen?
Your equipment won't work?
Okay, all right, I'll go!
How do you leave the past behind
When it keeps finding ways to get to your heart
It reaches way down deep and tears you inside out
Till you're torn apart
Rent!”

“How can you connect in an age
Where strangers, landlords, lovers
Your own blood cells betray
What binds the fabric together
When the raging, shifting winds of change
Keep ripping away”

“Draw a line in the sand
And then make a stand”

“Use your camera to spar”

“Use your guitar”

“When they act tough - you call their bluff.” The girls started singing together again.
”We're not gonna pay
We're not gonna pay
We're not gonna pay
Last year's rent
This year's rent
Next year's rent
Rent rent rent rent rent
We're not gonna pay rent
'Cause everything is rent!” They held the last note for a long time, and we were all applauding them by the time they were finished.

“Whew, I’d forgotten how much work that is!” Alex (the not so blatant friend insertion) sighed, flopping down to the deck.

“I keep telling you, acting is work!” Elisha (the blatant self insertion) insisted, hitting the stop button on the CD player. “Now, that’s enough preview for Mr. Never Seen RENT over there.” She waggled a finger at Jesse. “You’re gonna go, RIIIIIIIGHT?” Jesse looked cornered and nodded vigorously.

“Yes! Of course! I’d love to!” The rest of us exchanged a glance and burst out laughing. Jesse just looked halfway between bemused and confused. “What’s so funny? C’mon, guys, what’s so funny?” And we just laughed.

Without You

2004-10-16T01:52:00.000-04:00

Chapter Seventeen: Without You

It was all going so well, our band and our lives. Sure we had our ups and downs, but it was generally all ups. Our tour had been a great success – there was talk about having another tour in a few months with Velvet Botox as the main event. It was a shrug off, though – none of us really wanted to think about another tour, we were SO tired. If we hadn’t been so tired and out of it that week, we probably would’ve noticed something was wrong. But we didn’t, and even if we had, it wouldn’t have done much good.

“I’m so sick of these practices – isn’t this supposed to be our time off?” Mark complained, sitting against the wall wearily.

“We have to keep practicing, you know that.” Josh said with a yawn.

“Maybe we could take a week or two off?” I suggested. “I mean, the tour wouldn’t be happening for a while yet, and I don’t think a couple weeks off are going to hurt us.” Mark, Chris, and Jesse nodded agreement, looking pleadingly at Josh. He looked at all of us and sighed.

“Fine, I give in!” he gave a little half laugh and hugged me. “You look too tired, I can’t help myself.” He sighed and made a weird grimace.

“Hey, you alright?” Chris asked, worried. Josh nodded.

“Yeah, just a little under the weather’s all.” He grinned. “I’ll clean up – you guys go home, okay?”

“You sure, Josh?” I asked. “We can stay.”

“Naw, get outta here. Shoo!” he shooed us towards the door.

“G’night Josh!”

“Good night, kiddos.”

We went home that night tired but happy. So did Josh, after he picked up a bit from our practice. Then he returned home – his roommate (who he hadn’t seen all week) wasn’t due in from Atlanta for another hour, so he wasn’t worried or anything. The rest of us were sleeping – not worried, obviously. I would always think afterwards that maybe if we had been more worried, nothing would have happened. But it did.

At two in the morning, my cell phone rang, vibrating and scooting all over my nightstand. I groaned and fumbled until I got the light turned on (and my glasses on my face – yes, I wear contacts) and caught the phone just before it went to voice mail.

“’Lo?” I asked, half awake.

“Kate?” It was Randy, Josh’s roommate, and he sounded…upset. I frowned and was suddenly much more awake than I had been.

“Randy? What’s wrong?” I stifled a yawn, knowing this was important.

“It’s…it’s Josh.” Randy’s voice was shaking, and it sounded like he’d been crying. If anything bad had happened to Josh, Randy would have every right to be upset – they had been friends since before high school, and roommates ever since they graduated.

“Yeah? What happened?” I asked. There was a huge silence on the other end of the phone, and terrible situations flashed through my mind: he’d been hit by a drunk driver and was paralyzed from the waist down; he’d had an allergic reaction to something and was in a coma; the list went on.

“He…he’s dead, Kate.” Randy said softly. As much as I hate cliché’s his words really were like a slap in the face.

“Wh-what?” I asked, hardly daring to breathe.

“Josh…he died. At our apartment. They don’t know what happened yet.” For the first time, I realized that I could hear voices in the background. The cops, I realized.

“B-but…” I stammered. “He…no.”

“Please just…call the boys, Kate?” Randy asked, and I could hear the tears threatening to overwhelm him. “I c-c--”

“Yeah.” I replied, not really believing this new bit of information, even though I knew Randy wasn’t lying. “I’ll call them.”

“Thank you, Kate.” He sighed. “Thank you.”

“Yeah.” I found myself at a loss for words and stared blankly at the phone for a full minute as the dial tone beeped insistently at me. I was moving so slow, it felt like I was moving through glue or maple syrup. Hang up the phone, stare at it for another minute. Then it really hit me: Josh was gone. In heaven, yes, but gone. Out of our lives. Taken from us, just like that. Chris. I had to tell Chris. Without thinking of actually calling him, I quickly grabbed my robe and pulled it on over my pajamas, ran downstairs and out the door, my breathing ragged.

“Chris! CHRIS! Open the door!” I pounded on the door and rang the doorbell frantically, tears finally starting to spill down my cheeks. “Chris! Chris!” I sobbed and pounded the door. I heard someone shuffling to the door.

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” I heard a sleepy voice coming towards the door. The door opened to reveal Chris, looking quite bedraggled, and his mom on the stairs behind him. He blinked at me sleepily for a moment. “It’s just Kate, Mom, go back to bed.”

“Alright.” Chris’ mom went back up the stairs, and Chris looked back at me, and noticed I was crying.

“Hey…Pookie, you alright?” he looked at me, much more awake and definitely worried. “What’s wrong, what happened?” He pulled me into a hug and we sat down on the steps of his front porch.

“J-Josh...” I could barely talk. “Josh…Randy called…”

“Is Josh sick? Was there an accident?” Chris pulled back and looked into my face. “What happened, Kate?” I opened my mouth and nothing came out for a moment, then finally I managed to say one word.

“Dead…” I gasped, and buried my face in Chris’ shirt. Chris gulped for a moment, unable to respond.

“Do…do the others know?”

“No, I was…I was supposed to call…” I sniffed and tried to wipe the tears from my eyes, but they just kept coming. Chris gently removed my hands from where they were clutching his shirt and stood up.

“I should call them…I’ll get the phone.” I hugged my knees to my chest as Chris went inside. He came back out moments later, cordless phone in hand. He sat back down next to me and put an arm around my shoulder as he dialed. “Hey, Mark, it’s Chris. Um…” he took a deep breath. “Kate just came over and…look, just call me, dude. It’s important. I’ll try you again in a few.” He hung up and sighed. “Voice mail. Next up, Jesse…” he dialed and once again put the phone to his ear. “Jesse, hey.” He sighed. “Um…sorry to wake you up, man…” he paused, and I sniffed and clung to his arm. “Look, Kate just came over in hysterics…Randy called her a little bit ago. It-it’s Josh, he’s…” Chris grimaced. “He’s dead, Mark.” A pause. “Yeah. Yeah, you can come. I’ll see you in a few.”

“Is…is he coming over?” I sniffled, trying not to cry more. Chris nodded. “You going to call Anna?”

“Yeah, I am.” He dialed another number and left a message for Brad, and Dave, and couldn’t get through to Anna.

“She’s probably online, or talking to her dad.” I sniffed. A car squealed as it raced into the neighborhood, and came to a stop in front of the house. “Jesse?” I whispered. Jesse got out of his car and jogged up the walk. “Jesse!” I jumped up and ran to him, fresh tears coming as he wrapped me in a tight hug.

“It’s okay, Kate, it’s okay.” His voice was strained, but he stroked my hair and tried to calm me down. “Do we know what happened?” he asked Chris. Chris shook his head.

“I don’t think so – but Kate’s the one who talked to Randy.” I looked at Chris and shook my head, because I had no idea what had happened. All I knew was that Josh was dead. And then I got angry: why did Josh have to die? He was young, and in love with God, and was making such a difference in the world. I buried my nose in Jesse’s shirt, trying to calm down, but all I felt was anger and a Josh-shaped hole in my heart. I shoved Jesse away and ran back to my house.

“Kate?” Chris called out, confused, but I slammed the front door and ran up to my room, sobbing.

“No! It’s not FAIR!” I screamed to the ceiling, tears streaming down my cheeks. In the back of my mind, I thought that it was a good thing my parents were letting me housesit while they took Sheila to Orlando for her good grades. “Why? Why did you take him?” I grabbed the nearest thing to me – my Bible – and threw it across the room, sending a stack of CDs flying. My hands reached out to grab anything I could and I threw things, relishing in the mess and destruction that I was causing in my anger. “Why him? Why?” I threw a framed picture of my parents and I at the wall, leaving a small hole. “I hate you! I HATE you!” I screamed. A pair of hands grabbed my wrists and I tried to pull away.

“Kate, it’s me, calm down!” Chris pulled me into a tight embrace, half to comfort and half to restrain me. I fought against him for a moment, then all my energy left me and I clung to him, sobbing.

“It’s not fair…”

“I know it’s not, Pookie.” He said softly. “I know.” He hummed softly in my ear, like he would have his little cousins. “It’s going to be okay…I know, shhh…”

~~~

“Josh was a wonderful guy. He was…a great role model.” I watched solemnly as Dave tried his best to stay composed. “I remember when we were in the middle of making our CD last year, I was getting sick of having to fight for every little thing, like getting to sing about God. And school was stressing me out, and he just took me aside one day and said, ‘Hey, you know, we won’t be mad if you get too stressed to stay in the band. You can always come back when things get better.’ I just remember that it took a huge load off my back, and I felt comfortable dropping out of the band for a while to get my life back on track. Josh…” Dave scrubbed at his eyes a little. “Josh was always like that – being understanding when you needed to miss practice or a performance because your priorities were in order and you knew what was most important. Th-thank you.” He stepped down, and Brad stood up and went to the microphone.

“There’s really not much to say about Josh that you wouldn’t have known after meeting him.” He smiled sadly. “Josh was friendly, helpful, talented…but most of all, he loved God. He was my mentor, my accountability partner, for five, almost six years, and he taught me so much during that time.” Brad’s voice was normal, but I saw a tear roll down his cheek, and another. “We had our disagreements, our arguments, our full-blown fights, but he always called me or e-mailed me or something before he went to sleep to apologize. ‘Do not let the sun go down on your anger.’ He would say. ‘Well, the sun might have gone down already, but the day is still here, and I’m a night owl anyway.’ He was a fun guy to hang out with, and always knew what to say to make you feel better about your life.” Brad turned quickly and sat down, his tears falling steadily now. And it was my turn. I stood slowly and walked to the microphone, looking out at the huge crowd in the church.

“I…I didn’t know Josh as well as some of the people up here, but I know that he was kind, and brave, and Godly. About a year ago, my friend Anna and I were recruited to be the backup singers in the youth worship band, which had just lost its backup singers who had gone to college. Josh made us feel like we’d been part of the band forever, not ignoring us, but not treating us different. Then the recording contract came, and that was amazing, and Josh helped us all by letting us make the decision to do it or not without being judged. Some people,” I looked over at Anna and smiled a little. “Couldn’t make the commitment, but Josh still considered them members of the band.” My throat clenched and I wished I could cry, but I didn’t seem to have any tears left. “He was so open, and…I’m so sad that he’s gone. I’m angry, because it’s not fair that HE, of all people, should have to…die.” I closed my eyes as I said it – I had finally said what everyone knew, and no one was willing to say directly. “But I do know that Josh wouldn’t want us to just mope around feeling sorry for ourselves. He’d want us to keep living, and reach people for God.” I took a deep breath and looked at the band, who was getting ready to play. “Josh…Josh would tell me, when I was feeling down, or ugly, or just…unhappy with myself, that I was beautiful because God was shining out through me. He gave me a CD and told me to listen to a certain song…it really moved me, and…I wanted to sing it today. Josh, this is for you. Thank you.”

“I was so unique
Now I feel skin deep
Count on the makeup to cover it all
Crying myself to sleep
Because I cannot keep their attention
Thought I could be strong
But it’s killing me

Does someone hear my cry
I’m dying for new life

I want to be beautiful
And make you stand in awe
Look inside my heart
And be amazed
I want to hear you say
Who I am is quite enough
Just want to be worthy of love
And beautiful

Sometimes I wish I was someone other than me
Fighting to make the mirror happy
Trying to find whatever is missing
Won’t you help me back to glory

I want to be beautiful
And make you stand in awe
Look inside my heart
And be amazed
I want to hear you say
Who I am is quite enough
Just want to be worthy of love

You make me beautiful
You make me stand in awe
You step inside my heart
And I am amazed
I love to hear You say
Who I am is quite enough
You make me worthy of love
And beautiful.”

Tears streamed down my face as one by one, the people in the church stood, clapping. I knew that they weren’t clapping for me – they were applauding Josh, celebrating his life and dreams, and celebrating the life that he still had: eternal life with God. And it was truly beautiful.

I Want to go Out Tonight

2004-10-15T15:05:00.000-04:00

Chapter Eighteen: I Want to go Out Tonight

“Kissme, it’s Jesse…please call. We’re getting worried about you. I know you’re off at college, but…just call, okay? I just want to know you’re alright. I’ll talk to you later.” I deleted the voice message, angrily throwing my phone onto my bed. My roommate, Lacey, looked up from her book and raised her eyebrows.

“Another call from your boyfriend?” she asked. I said nothing. “Maybe you should call him back. I mean, he obviously cares about you a lot, and you’ve been here for what, three months? And you haven’t called him ONCE.”

“Whatever, I don’t want to talk to him.” I said airily, brushing her off and grabbing my purse.

“Kate, stop acting like a spoiled rock star.” I turned around slowly, shocked at what Lacey had said. The first week I had been there, I’d told her that I didn’t want to talk about the band at all, and she’d agreed not to bring it up.

“Lace, you promised.”

“Well you know what, you’re acting like one, and I don’t like it.” She slammed her book shut and got in my face. “You are always just deleting those messages he and your friends leave on your phone, you don’t ever think to call them back and let them know you’re alive. Why do you have to be like this?”

“Just get off my back, okay?” I yelled, pushing her back. “I don’t ever want to go back to that – there’s too much hurt!”

“And you think they’re not hurting too?” She shook her head. “I’ve gotten e-mails. ME. From Elisha (the blatant self insertion). From Anna. From Chris and Jesse and everyone in that band of yours. And I have to tell them how you’re doing, what classes you’re taking, and that you’re still alive. Because YOU won’t call them or e-mail them or ANYTHING.” Lacey bit her lip and looked at me. “Is that really what you want? To cut off everyone who knows what you’ve gone through?”

“Just shut up, Lacey.” I glared at her and stormed out the door. “I’m going to the party at Epsilon Beta. I’ll see you later.”

~~~

It was a big mistake to go to that party. I knew that, obviously, but I went anyway, in hopes of letting the music and the people drown out my life. I wouldn’t drink – I hadn’t gotten that desperate, but if offered enough…I was thinking that I might just take something to get everything out of my mind.

“Hey babe, wanna dance?” I looked over at the obviously inebriated frat boy with disdain. He was a jock, or something, and obviously quite full of himself. He was probably under the impression (when drunk OR sober) that women wanted him, and that any member of the female race would be more than happy to sleep with him if he so wished.

“Not with you, I don’t.” I sniffed, and turned back to my sprite. But it was gone. I sighed, and went back to the person handing out drinks. “Hey, can I get a Sprite?” I yelled over the music. He shook his head.

“We only have ginger ale punch left!”

“Fine, whatever, I’ll have some!” I shouted. I was handed a plastic cup with a punch of ginger ale and fruit juice in it. I drank it quickly and (ignoring the drink guy) ladled myself some more.

Had I been less upset, I would have remembered that at parties like that, you should only drink from a closed container (like a soda can) that YOU opened and never let out of your sight. Unfortunately, I was thirsty and upset, so I had a LOT of that punch. I also found out that I have a LOW tolerance for alcohol.

“Aw, it’s a karaoke song, change it!” I heard someone yell when a new song came on the speakers. I recognized the melody and walked (a tad unsteadily) back to the sound system.

“Do you got a mike?” I asked. The sound guy nodded.

“Yeah. Why, you wanna sing?” he said, showing me the mike. I grabbed it and winked at him.

“Start that last song over again, honey, and you’ll see.” I climbed up on a table and tapped the mike. “This working?” I asked, and my voice came through the speakers. I smiled triumphantly and turned back to the sound guy. “Turn it on, hon!” The music blasted through the speakers and I began dancing sexily on the table. Not anything I ever considered actually doing, but I did, like I said, have a lot of that punch.

“What's the time?
Well it's gotta be close to midnight
My body's talking to me
It says, "Time for danger"
It says "I wanna commit a crime
Wanna be the cause of a fight
Wanna put on a tight skirt and flirt
With a stranger"
I've had a knack from way back
At breaking the rules once I learn the games
Get up - life's too quick
I know someplace sick
Where this chick'll dance in the flames
We don't need any money
I always get in for free
You can get in too
If you get in with me

Let's go out tonight
I have to go out tonight
You wanna play?
Let's run away
We won't be back before it's Christmas day
Take me out tonight (meow)” I winked at one of the frat guys who was cheering.

”When I get a wink from the doorman
Do you know how lucky you'll be?
That you're on line with the feline of Avenue B

Let's go out tonight
I have to go out tonight
You wanna prowl
Be my night owl?
Well take my hand we're gonna howl
Out tonight

In the evening I've got to roam
Can't sleep in the city of neon and chrome
Feels too damn much like home
When the Spanish babies cry
So let's find a bar
So dark we forget who we are
And all the scars from the
Nevers and maybes die

Let's go out tonight
Have to go out tonight
You're sweet
Wanna hit the street?
Wanna wail at the moon like a cat in heat?
Just take me out tonight

Please take me out tonight
Don't forsake me -- out tonight
I'll let you make me -- out tonight
Tonight -- tonight – tonight”

When I finished, I held up my hands triumphantly, and the room burst into half-drunken cheers. I bowed and lost my balance, falling on top of a few of the frat guys, who proceeded to feel me up.

“Hey, why wouldn’t you dance with me?” one of them asked, a little angry. Even drunk as I was, I was scared and tried to get away.

“Lemme go!” I said, and tried to pull away. The guys tightened their grip on my arms.

“I don’t think so. No girl says no to me.”

“Oh yeah?” a voice came from behind the frat guy, who turned around. “Well this girl did.” A fist shot out and nailed the guy right in the jaw, sending him crumpling to the ground. I looked up the arm that the fist was attached to, and then up to the owner’s face, which looked familiar, but couldn’t possibly be who I thought it was.

“Jesse?” I asked, stepping forward and losing my balance. Jesse stepped forward and caught me, just barely.

“Whoa, now, careful!” He cautioned, slinging one of my arms around his shoulders. “Come on, we’re out of here.” He started walking out.

“But I dun wanna leave.” I mumbled. The cool night air felt really good after the stuffy heat of that room.

“Sure you do. Now, Kissme, what did you have to drink?” Jesse asked seriously, walking back towards my dorm building.

“Jus’ some punch. Good punch.” I giggled. He sighed.

“Great. Spiked punch.” The rest of the trip was filled with meaningless chatter meant – I assumed – to keep me awake until we got to my dorm room. Somehow (I was never quite sure how) Jesse managed to talk his way past the security guard, and took me upstairs to my room. He seemed to know exactly where he was going, which somehow didn’t surprise me. After all, if my knight in shining armor was going to rescue me, he would HAVE to know where he was going – knights in shining armor don’t get lost.

“Oh, there you are!” Lacey hopped up from her desk the moment we walked through the door. “Is she okay?”

“Fine, ‘m fine.” I muttered.

“Yeah,” Jesse answered, lowering me onto my bed. “She got some spiked punch, and apparently didn’t realize it. When I got there, she’d just finished singing and dancing on a table and was being felt up by some angry, drunk frat boys.”

“Oh, God, Kate!” Lacey rubbed her temples. “Why did you go and do that, huh? Why?”

“I…uh…” I blinked blearily at her, I was already falling asleep. Jesse saw this and calmed Lacey down.

“Not the best time, I don’t think, Lace.” He said softly. “Wait until tomorrow, okay?”

“Right.” She sighed. “I’m going to get ready for bed. Get her under the covers, will you?”

“Sure.” Jesse came over and slipped my underneath my sheet and blanket.

“th’nk you.” I mumbled. He smiled softly.

“You’re welcome. G’night, Kissme.”

~~~

I woke up with a pounding headache, a dry mouth, and a growling stomach. It was not the most pleasant way to wake up, but wake up I did. I groaned and rolled over, pressing my pillow over my head.

“Hey, sleeping beauty’s awake!” The cheerful voice seemed overly loud, and made my headache worse.

“Quieter, please?” I asked from under my pillow. I poked my head out and looked around. “Did anyone get the license number of the priest on the Vespa that ran me over?”

“87D-G16.” Jesse said, crouching down in front of me. “But the cops say it’s a fake plate. How’re we feeling?”

“Didn’t you hear me?” I asked. “I feel like I’ve been run over by a priest on a Vespa.” Jesse grinned.

“Well, you can’t feel THAT bad – you still have a sense of humor. Or at least incendiary wit.” I frowned.

“No big words before noon. You’re hurting my head, bully.” I swatted at him, then stopped. “Wait a second…where did you come from?”

“My momma’s tummy.” He grinned. I glared at him, and he just rolled his eyes. “I got into town last night, and Lacey said you’d gone to some frat party and we were worried about you. So I went, and probably saved you from something quite unenjoyable.”

“Oh…thank you.” I sighed. “When are you leaving?” Jesse’s eyebrows shot up, but he didn’t say anything about the rudeness of my question.

“I’m not leaving. I’ve transferred here.” He answered smoothly. “Why haven’t you returned any of our calls?”

“Because I was attempting to forget you!” I said, a little too loudly, causing my head to pound. “I was trying to get away from bad memories.”

“Josh dying, you mean.” Jesse said, not really asking. I put my hands over my ears.

“Stop it! Why can’t you just leave me alone?” I yelled at him, ignoring how bad my headache was. “Just leave me alone!”

“No.” Jesse said calmly. “Friends don’t do that. Neither do boyfriends – which we still are, I’m hoping.” I looked up at him wonderingly.

“You…you still want to be my boyfriend?” I asked, getting a nod in reply. “Even after I left without saying goodbye?” Nod. “Even though I didn’t answer and of your messages or emails?” Nod. I shook my head incredulously. “Why?” Jesse laughed wryly.

“That’s the most popular question nowadays.” He sighed. “Why did I come here, Kate? Because I love you. You’re a friend – more than a friend – and I won’t let you destroy your life.” He hugged me tightly, despite the fact that I was still in bed and wearing dirty clothes from the night before.

“So what are you gonna do?” I asked him snappily. Jesse smiled. “I’m going to stay here until you decide to move somewhere else. And I’m gonna keep following you until you go back home, alright?”

“Come home, are you nuts?” I asked, sitting up quickly and grimacing when my headache caught up with my head. “I just got here, and I love it here! Their film and drama programs are great! Why would I want to leave?”

“So you can see your friends again.” He answered. “So you can help us on our new CD.”

“We’re making a new CD?” I asked, confused. “But…I haven’t heard anything from Helen or Merrit (the ever so cool)!” Jesse was quiet for a moment.

“It was something Chris came up with. We’re going to do a shorter CD, about friends and memories and losing people important to you. It’s going to be called ‘For Josh’.” He looked pleadingly at me. “Please come home and help us, Kate. We need your voice. We need YOU.” I sighed. I knew that if I left now, I’d probably never get to come back. I’d be giving up my one shot at an out of state college, maybe even college as a whole. I’d have to leave Lacey, and my other new friends. I’d have to face Tampa without Josh. So many things to influence a decision, but I finally decided.

“Jesse?” I asked, sounding (and feeling) very small.

“Yeah?”

“Let’s go home.”

Blogging

2004-10-14T01:28:00.000-04:00

Chapter Nineteen: Blogging

User: Katydid
Date: 12.05
Topic: Home Again
Post: Well, I guess it’s good to be home again. I didn’t think I’d ever come back after…what happened. But here I am! I just hope I can survive it. I’m back in the choir again at church, it’s a nice feeling.

User: Bananabrain
Date: 12.07
Topic: Kissme’s back!
Post: Yay, Kissme’s back from college! Already!

I do feel kind of bad – I know she’s probably not going to go back, now…ah, the joys of going to a local college, I can get the experience without really leaving home. Which is good for my finances, anyway.

I have an essay due tomorrow – not my favorite thing in the world. Actually, I have a lot of editing to do – really I should be editing right this very minute! But alas, I’m not. Sucks for me, not for anyone else.

Alex (the not so blatant friend insertion) and Elisha (the blatant self insertion) have been hanging out with Chris and I a lot since August, probably because Kate was gone. They really sort of latched on to her, which is good, I guess, because they’re sweet girls, and I love being friends with them.

Yikes, getting late. I’m off to edit that essay.

User: Katydid
Date: 12.14
Topic: (untitled)
Post: It's funny...sometimes I catch myself just staring at Jesse and thinking about how lucky I am to have him. No, not lucky - blessed. I find myself listening to his voice, and noticing how his hair's always sticking up and other little things like that, and it just drives everything else out of my mind.

Today during choir practice he was singing his solo part for the Christmas production, and I was listening to him so intently that I was two measures late coming in with the choir! And it wasn't WHAT he was singing, just his voice in general.

Is it weird that his voice captivates me like that? It's not an obsessive thing, really, it's just that when he talks...his voice makes me feel safe, and loved, and special, and it doesn't matter whether he's talking to me or singing or talking to someone else. There's just something...wow, I'm really sounding obsessed, right? But I'm not, really. I'm just a girl, commenting on a special guy's voice.

I'm always afraid that I'm getting obsessive or clingy or annoying or possessive when it comes to him - if we're walking and I reach over and grab his hand, I worry that I'm being too clingy. And when I make one of these posts about how his voice just draws me in, or how his smile is so friendly, or whatever, I worry that I'm getting overly obsessive and am making more out of this than there is. And I'm afraid that I'll get annoying when I call him because I'm having a bad day. And...well I can't say I've gotten possessive, but I worry about it all the same.

Am I obsessive for loving (and talking about) those little things about him that make me smile? Am I clingy for wanting to hug him at least twice every time we see each other (hello and goodbye) and for loving to hold his hand at any opportunity? Is it annoying when every once in a while, your special someone had a bad day and they call you to make them feel better? When I put it that way, it doesn't sound like I am, but I can't help worrying about it.

Heh. I really should be writing my story right now. Ah well.

I guess I'll just make this a "muse about Jesse" post and get all my mushiness for the month out. So I'm going to sound overly obsessed, but really I'm just going to get out about a month's worth of me being mushy. So don't mock the mushiness!

I love his hands. Honestly! They're big and soft and warm (usually). I love holding his hand, because it sort of reminds me of holding hands with my dad when I was little, only more romantic. And I love watching them when he plays the piano (yes, my drummer boyfriend plays the piano) - it's almost as if they have a life of their own, sometimes. Not always, because he's not a PERFECT piano player, but sometimes...when he does Grace Like Rain, it gives me shivers, because he gets so into it and I love it. And I love him - I really do.

Pastor Dave asked tonight if we (being everyone in the singles group, not just me and Jesse) were in a relationship that had us on our knees praising God, or whether we were in an "out of the way, God, it's my life" relationship. Not just romantically, but that specifically. And I just sat there glancing over at Jesse and thinking how much God had blessed me by bringing him into my life, and thanking God again (as I do nearly every time I see him) for letting me have him, if only for a little while.

Not that I "have him" per se. I mean, he doesn't belong to me in any way shape or form. I can honestly put no claim to him, and if he wanted to leave, he could go, because I have no right to stop him. But that's a mere technicality.

I can only hope and pray that I can look back on this relationship someday - no matter what the outcome - and not regret anything that I did.

And about love...saying "I love you"? I’m not quite ready for that – it’s a big step emotionally, you know. Sure, we write "I ♥ you" and we say (or I say, anyway) "Love ya!", but it's not a real "I love you". I say "Love ya!" to almost everyone I know, and "I ♥ you" is more how you describe the type of love you have for a favorite book or actor or friend or band. "I love you" is just...way too serious. Too emotionally entangled, or something along those lines. Too serious - it's something that I personally think should only be said (romantically) to someone who you have been with for a good amount of time and could possibly be your future spouse. Obviously I've said here (and other places) that I love him, but I obviously didn't mean in that serious forever romantic love sort of way...I don't know if I'm explaining it right. *sigh* Oh well. If you can't muddle out what I'm trying to say, then that's okay.

Well, to continue on my mushisness/explore my feelings and thoughts about our relationship/wow this is kind of random post, let's talk about kissing! Me kissing Jesse, to be more precise. It's cool – I don't really have an urge to kiss him every time I see him. We've kissed a grand total of twice - both simple no-tongue kisses on the lips on the same night...within about five minutes of each other, probably. It was a special occasion – our four month anniversary – and everything was just...perfect. We were alone by my car - no audience, which is how we both like it. It's funny, sort of. I used to be so jealous of (and slightly disgusted by, I'll admit) Bobby and Lisa (a couple of friends from school) when they were dating, and they kissed a lot, every time they saw each other, I think. I wanted to be able to do that with someone special. But now...well, sure, I did call Anna and Chris and I told a lot of people that it happened, but I think I can be excused since it was my first kiss. I don't think kissing is wrong, but Jesse and I both feel that it's sort of a private thing, and should only be done when it means something to us. I've actually been meaning to ask him about our kiss...I'm assuming it meant something, and made him feel something, because after the first one, he kissed me again! But he told me right after we started dating that with all the girls he'd kissed before (not that many, but more than my list of kisses. *wink*) it hadn't been special, and he hadn't felt anything - it was just going through the motions. And he said that he didn't want to kiss me unless it was going to mean something and be more than just rote "oh hey, *kiss*, how are you". And I agreed, because I think that's good. So, I guess I'm just kind of curious as to whether or not it gave him butterflies, or whatever. If it was different from those "meaningless", for lack of a better word, kisses he'd had before. Ack, but I digress! Back to the topic of me not wanting to kiss him all the time: Anna, Chris, and I went up to Jesse’s family's beach house on Friday to spend the day (and it was a bit chilly, let me tell you), and then the night. His parents WERE there, by the way. Anyway, we were out walking on the beach after it got dark, and there were stars, and Jesse and I were holding hands, and I was so content - I didn't have any part of me (that I noticed) saying "oh, I wish he'd kiss me", and it was GREAT!

Anyway, I suppose I'd better get back to my writing. I’m trying to write a song for Josh’s memoriam CD. Thank you for putting up with my rather long Jesse-centric post. We now return you to your previously scheduled programming.

User: Sock_ofthe_Sorceror
Date: 12.26
Title: Where will we be?
Post: Think about it for a moment: In five years, where will we be? Even in two years, or one! What else will have happened in our lives?

Jesse here, in case you didn’t know. I was just…I don’t know, being thoughtful today. Don’t laugh, Kissme, that IS thoughtful for me. So nya.

User: Katydid
Date: 12.17
Title: Too lazy to think of one
Post: I really miss Lacey. I wish I could’ve gotten to know her better. I mean, honestly, that girl was so nice to me, and helped me get settled in even though she was only a freshman too. I feel bad that I just left, but…I think she understands.

At least there’s email.

It’s hard to write a song for someone who you know you won’t see again in this life…I’m still not sure where I’m going with what I’ve got. Er…that is…

Oh, who am I kidding? I don’t have anything written! I need to write this song, but nothing’s coming. I dunno, maybe I’m just too focused on the fact that he’s gone. Maybe it needs to be about something OTHER than me missing him. I just don’t know what.

Anyone with ideas is welcome to offer them.

Comment posted by user: Bananabrain
Date: 12.17
Comment: Stop moping and start writing!

Just kidding. But really, Kate, this isn’t like you – usually your problem is getting a melody and not writing too much! But I guess it’s hard – my song is…well let’s just say it’s a good thing Chris is helping me out with that.

Best of luck to you, babe. See you tomorrow.

User: Sock_ofthe_Wizard
Date: 12.18
Title: (untitled)
Post: Hey, Jesse here again! I don’t know why I say that, it’s redundant. Well, anyway.

I stumbled across a post in Kate’s blog – I think she meant to lock it for only certain people to see, but it obviously didn’t’ work, because I could see it and I don’t think I was supposed to.

But you’ll notice that I still read it. Bad Jesse.

I’m not sure what to think of it – without the numerous disclaimers scattered around it, I’d be worried, but I’m not, because she said it was just her getting her mushiness out for the month. Of course, it might just be a cover for her borderline-stalker obsession with me. Not that she has a borderline-stalker obsession with me that I know of.

But, Kate, if you see this: Yes, the kiss was different. And yes, I did get butterflies. I’m assuming that means butterflies in your stomach. Otherwise, I’m confused. So I’m going to assume.

Comment posted by user: Katydid
Date: 12.20
Comment: Hey, I found it! Yay! *does a victory dance*

Hope you liked your Christmas pressie. It was the best thing I could come up with.

Ack, you saw that entry. How big is your ego now?

But I AM glad that the kisses gave you butterflies (yes, in the stomach) too.

Comment posted by user: Sock_ofthe_Wizard
Date: 12.20
Comment: I quote verbatim: “How big is your ego now?”

Oh, I’d have to say probably about the size of Alaska. You still coming to Christmas dinner with my family?

Comment posted by user: Katydid
Date: 12.20
Comment: Hah. Hah. Very funny. And yes, I am, but only if you’re coming to Christmas Eve dinner with MY family.

Comment posted by user: Sock_ofthe_Wizard
Date: 12.20
Comment: I try. Really. Ok, Christmas Eve dinner at your house, what time?

(btw – why are we not IMing or talking on the phone?)

Comment posted by user: Katydid
Date: 12.20
Comment: Good question…I’m calling you right now. *gets off the computer*

Burn the Past

2004-10-13T01:44:00.000-04:00

Chapter Twenty: Burn the Past to the Ground

It was a hopeless endeavor from the beginning, I had decided. My song was no closer to being written than it had been before I’d left university and gone back to Tampa. I had written and written and written, but nothing was good enough for a song – especially a song for Josh.

“This is hopeless.” I told Anna as I slumped on her bead. “I keep writing crap, I’m doing it all wrong.”

“Ah.” Anna was quiet for a moment. “How many different songs have you written partially for this project?” I blinked, confused.

“Well, probably about twelve, maybe thirteen.” I answered her. “Why?”

“Well,” Anna grinned, proud of herself. “Now you know twelve, maybe thirteen ways how to NOT write a memoriam song.” I sighed and rolled my eyes.

“I really don’t have the energy for this.” I yawned. “It’s late, and I am going to fall asleep at the wheel if I don’t get home.” Anna looked at her watch and frowned.

“But…it’s only eight!” She protested. I waved her off with a yawn.

“Yes, but I am tired like it’s midnight. Shoo.” I tried to leave and Anna blocked the door.

“I can’t understand why you’re so tired.” She shook her head. “Fine, if you’re that tired, no way you’re driving home. You can sleep here tonight.” She popped up and rummaged around in her linen closed for the extra sheets and pillows. I yawned and tried to protest, but she wouldn’t let me.

“C’mon, I’m not going to just intrude on your space!” I insisted.

“You’re not.” Anna assured me. “You look tired as heck, and I don’t think you’ve been sleeping much. So I’m going to help – comfy bed, chamomile tea, and soft pajamas.” She tossed said pajamas at me. “I’ll make your tea while you change, okay, Kate?” I yawned again.

“Yeah, sure, whatever.” I stopped. “Oh, I should call my folks.” I pulled my cell out of my pocket and dialed home.

“Hello?” the voice answered.

“Mom?” I asked.

“Hey, baby! How are you?”

“I’m doing great, mom. Um…I’m staying over at Anna’s tonight, okay?”

“Oh…well, I guess so.” My mom sounded disappointed. I shrugged apologetically, even thought I knew she couldn’t see me.

“I’m just really tired and besides, she won’t let me leave until I’ve rested – namely overnight.”

“Oh, yeah, you’ll get a LOT of rest.” My mom scoffed.

“Actually,” I said reluctantly. “I don’t think she’s going to let me stay up – she’s making chamomile tea as we speak.

“Wow.” I could hear the appreciation in my mom’s voice. “She’s awfully determined to get you to sleep, it sounds like.”

“Yeah. Anyway, I just thought I’d let you know.”

“Okay, thank you, sweetie. I love you.”

“Love you too, mom.” I sighed and hung up the phone. A few minutes later, I was wearing Anna’s comfortably soft pajamas, sitting on Anna’s bed, and drinking the tea Anna had made for me. “Thanks, I think.” I said, sipping the tea. “I’m not sure whether to be exasperated with you or glad you’re putting me to bed.”

“Don’t worry about it – it’s my pleasure.” Anna grinned and tweaked my nose. “But you’d better sleep tonight.”

“Fine, I will.” I sighed. “I’ve just got to work on my song a little first, and—“

“No, no, no.” Anna shook her head. “There will be no work for you. You’re finishing this tea and then you’re going to sleep. End of story.” I opened my mouth to protest, but she shushed me. “You have your entire life to write a perfect song for Josh – but you NEED to sleep TONIGHT!”

“Fine, fine,” I yawned and drained the last of my tea. “There, tea’s gone – are you happy now?” I asked in all seriousness. Anna took the mug from me and nodded.

“Mostly.” She answered. “Now, lay down and relax. You’re going to sleep. Get under the covers.”

“But what about you?” I asked, concerned. Anna shrugged.

“That’s what we have a guest room for.” She explained. “The bed’s not as comfortable, though, which is why I have you here.” She smiled proudly. “Pretty ingenious, huh?” I nodded, feeling sleepier by the minute.

“Yeah, sure thing.” I yawned and then started a little when Anna’s face filled my vision. “Hey.”

“Hey.” She answered. I blinked blearily.

“You put something in my tea, didn’t you?” I asked calmly.

“No, I gave you a tea that puts you to sleep.”

“Ah. Remind me to kill you when I get up tomorrow.”

“I love you too, Kate.” Anna teased. “Good night!”

“Yeah, good night.” I grumbled, wearily sinking back into Anna’s soft and comfy bed with a yawn. “Sweet dreams, Anna.” I whispered, but she didn’t hear me.

~~~

“Hey, Pookie.” Chris sat down next to me on the swing set in the park. I looked up from my notebook for a moment – only long enough to give him a brief smile – before resuming my pen chewing activities.

“Hey.”

“How’s it coming?” He asked. I sighed and held the notebook at arm’s length, as if that would give me a better view of the scribblings and scratched out words.

“Um…slowly.” I shrugged. “Even when I finish, it’s not going to be the song that brings tears to everyone’s eyes, and sticks in their minds. But I hope it’ll be enough.” Chris cocked his head to one side.

“Enough for what?”

“For singing at a concert.” I blushed a little, embarrassed at myself for wanting it to be good for something that seemed so shallow. But it wasn’t, really – only hard to explain. “You see, it’s just that—“

“No, I get you.” Chris interrupted with a sad smile. “You want a song that he’d approve of performing, right? Make him proud, and all that jazz?” I laughed a little.

“This is why you’re my best friend, Chrissy bear. Because you always understand me.”

“Or could it be that I always understand you because I’m your best friend?” he pondered dramatically. “I…can’t think…it’s too deep of a question. My BRAIN! AIIIIIIEEEE!” he convulsed off the swing and lay twitching in the sand as I laughed loudly.

“Lost all your brain cells, huh?” I asked. He nodded solemnly, still writhing in the sand. “Well, that’s not going to make much of a difference now is it?” I teased.

“Hey, that’s it! I’ve had enough of this abuse!” he popped up off the ground and got me in a headlock before I could react. “NOOGIE!”

“Well…this is an interesting scene to come across.” We froze and turned, still in our previous positions (me in a headlock, Chris in mid-noogie). Mrs. Sandwich was standing there.

“Nahnee!” I exclaimed, slithering out of the headlock and jogging over to the sweet British lady. “You saved me from the most terrible torture known to mankind!”

“Worse than tickling?” Chris piped up from the swings. I rolled my eyes.

“Okay, the SECOND most terrible torture known to mankind.”

“It’s worse than being asked stupid questions over and over again?” Chris again.

“Yes!” I yelled at him in exasperation. “It’s worse, now shush and let me talk!” I turned back to Mrs. Sandwich, who had a bemused smile on her face.

“Now I really don’t believe you’re not brother and sister.” She said with a lilting laugh. “You fight too much while getting along to be anything but.”

“Well…I guess we might as WELL be siblings.” Chris mused, walking over and giving the older woman a kiss on the cheek. “Hello, Nahnee.”

“Hullo, dearie. Now, what are you two up to today?” she asked briskly. “Other than giving each other ‘noogies’, that is.”

“Kate’s trying to write her memoriam song for Josh.” Chris said before I could slap him. Not that it really mattered – I loved Nahnee and didn’t mind if she knew.

“Oh, yes.” Nahnee shook her head. “Sad business. An annurism, and in such a young man. Oh, but you don’t want to be thinking about that! Let me see, what time is it, Katie love?” I glanced down at my watch.

“Er…3:30. Why?”

“Oh, perfect timing!” Nahnee cooed. “You can both come have tea with me! If you’re not busy, of course.” She added as an afterthought. I smiled.

“No, we’re not doing anything.”

“We’d love to!” Chris added. “You make good jam.” I rolled my eyes.

“Is food all you ever think about?”

“No! Sometimes I think about sleep.” Our friendly bickering continued with many a laugh as we walked back to Mrs. Sandwich’s house.

~~~

“’Why must I be witness’…no, that’s a lyric in another song.” I sighed and tried once again to come up with something passable as a song for the CD. We had recorded most of the other songs already, only my song and Brad’s song were left – and Brad’s song was already written. “’Why do I have to see’. Hm, that might work…” I scribbled down the tentative line, humming the melody that was already in my head.

“Working hard, are we?” Mom poked her head into my room.

“Yeah.” I sighed. “Can we order some pizza?”

“Just for you.” Mom smiled. “We’re going out tonight – your father and I. Since Sheila is at Devon’s house tonight.”

“Oh, okay cool, have fun!” I rolled off my bed and gave her a hug. “But, um…”

“Yes, I’ll pay. Even though you’re the rich one in this house.” She teased me. I rolled my eyes.

“Yeah, and almost all of it is in a savings account I can’t access until I’m twenty one.” I yawned and grabbed the phone off of my desk and called for a pizza. “Hey, can I get a medium hand tossed with pepperoni, please? And a two liter of Coke. Yeah. Ok. Ok, thank you.” I hung up and flopped back onto my bed. Not really knowing why, I started to hum, then sing softly to myself.

“There is no future.
There is no past.
I live each moment as my last.
There’s only us.
There’s only this.
Forget regret, or life is yours to miss.
No other road.
No other way.
No day but today…”

I sat up suddenly and grabbed my notebook. I had been inspired – it wouldn’t be the best or most original song, but it was one that I really felt deep down, and I knew it would be what I was looking for from this endeavor.

~~~

“Will I be the one
To hold your hand as life slips away?
Will I be left to stand
All alone to live another day?

Somehow I can’t imagine living
Without you, yet I do.
You tried to teach me so much
But one thing I learned from you is

Live each day
You don’t want to miss
The special gifts of life.
Your life should reflect this:
This single road
The only way
No day but today.

I fear the future
I fear the past
I know this day may be my last

There’s only us
There’s only this
Forget regret or life is yours to miss
No other road
No other way
No day but today.
No day but today.
No day but today.”

((Lyrics will be edited – I’m not plagiarizing))

I smiled as I played the last chord on my keyboard. It was, as I said, not the most original song, but it was original enough to work. It was short, though, but that seemed appropriate somehow. A short, simple song about living life to the fullest – something Josh would’ve loved. I found myself tearing up, thinking about Josh, and having flashbacks to the last few moments of RENT, when Angel comes running back on stage for the last line, after the immensely emotional Roger/Mimi scene and the music harmonizing the lines “No day but today” and “I die without you” in such a moving way. I wished that Josh could come running back ‘on stage’ to take a bow with us, as if it were all just a performance.

“Why’d you have to go, Joshers?” A tear slipped down my cheek as I compulsively started writing a letter to Josh. “We need you here. You were the stable one, the one who knew what to do. We need you, Helen needs you. You have no idea how devastated she was – I didn’t know you two were even dating yet, but now…I know. She’s depressed, Josh, really depressed. I’ve managed to smile, and laugh, and have fun, but I don’t think Helen has. I hardly ever see her anymore. Merrit (the ever so cool)’s really worried.” I bit the end of my pencil, trying not to cry. “I know God must have a reason for needing you there, but all I can see right now is that we need you HERE. I wish you could come back. Come back, Joshers? Please?” I wadded the paper into a ball and tossed it at my trash can.

“She shoots, she scores!” I cheered. The note would be taken out of my room come Monday (it was Thursday) and then it would travel to the junk yard. Except that it might blow away or fall out, so someone out there could’ve possibly read it. Well, theoretically, anyway. I wadded up a perfectly normal piece of paper and shot THAT one at the trash can as my phone rang. “Hello.”

“Hey, Kateroonie!” A chipper voice squealed in the upper decibles of human hearing. I had to pull the phone away from my ear in order to keep from going deaf. It could only be one person…or, more precisely, one duo.

“Hey Elisha (the blatant self insertion), how’re you?” I laughed.

“I’m good, how’re you?” she asked cheerfully. I heard a muffled voice in the background over the phone.

“Ask her if she wants to help us out.”

“I will!” Elisha (the blatant self insertion) called to that someone, and I laughed.

“There with Alex (the not so blatant friend insertion)?” I tried very hard not to laugh at the antics going on over the phone line.

“Stop it, you’re gonna trip me!”

“Aw, but Marky—“

“Shush! I’m on the phone.”

“The other phone.”

“Em, if you don’t shut it, and QUICKLY…” a deep sigh was heaved.

“Marky?” I asked quizzically.

“Yeah. I’m Marky, Alex is My Maureen. Or MM for short, sometimes.”

“Er…right.”

“So, d’you want to have coffee with My Maureen and me?” Elisha (the blatant self insertion) asked cheerfully. I groaned.

“Oh, I’m sorry, ‘Lish, but I’m already getting together with the band.”

“Ah.”

“I’m really sorry.” I added.

“Oh, please, it’s no big – we were just bored.” I heard Elisha (the blatant self insertion)’s smile over the phone and found myself smiling too. That girl’s smile was so contagous…

“Well, if you’re sure.”

“Positive. Listen, I’ve gotta—Maureen! Get away from my laptop!” The phone went dead in my hand on that note, and I shook my head, laughing. Those two were quite possibly the most entertaining people I knew, and they didn’t try to be funny. They just were. I looked at my watch and yelped with surprise, grabbing my notebook and jacket before running out to my car. It was time to meet up with the band.

Author's Note

2004-10-12T02:54:00.000-04:00

Chapter Twenty and One Half: A Note from the Author

You know, I didn’t really mean to kill him. Josh, that is.

I had it all planned out – the deal with getting their way in the studio was going to be a lot harder, they were going to meet other up and coming stars, and Kate was going to fall for one, and they would start dating, and he would treat her really crappy, which is when she finally gets around to realizing that Jesse is the one for her. But OH no, they won’t let me do that. Stupid characters.

So I’m stuck with this piece of complete fluffy crap. So I’m thinking to myself, “I need to angst it up a bit – there’s just way TOO much fluff here. So the best (and easiest) way I could inflict angst in this particular story was to kill someone. Unfortunately that someone…was Josh.

You see, there were requirements that the corpse had to fill. It had do be someone from the band, so there goes the Unforgettable Five or Kate’s parents. It couldn’t be someone TOO close to Kate or she’d have a complete breakdown – so Anna, Chris, and Jesse were out. But of course, it had to be someone close enough to cause her problems – there go Mark, Brad, and Dave. Not to say that she wasn’t close to any of those three guys, but it doesn’t really show in this story. So that left us with Josh.

Josh died tragically. His death was actually (as morbid as this may sound – IT ISN’T) based off of Jonathan Larson’s death. Larson had an aortic annurism and had died just an hour after leaving the final rehersal of RENT before it was performed for the first time in its near perfect form. The performance was the NEXT DAY. Isn’t that sad?

Anyhow, that’s my little defense as to why I killed Josh.

We now return you to the story.

A New Lease On Life

2004-10-11T03:33:00.000-04:00

Chapter Twenty One: A new lease you are, my love, on life

“Alright ‘troops’: It’s been six months to the day since the Incident, and we’ve finally finished our CD, thanks to Kissme’s contribution.” Jesse grinned at me, teasing me for being the last to turn in a song. “On a more serious note, we have to discuss the marketing of this product.”

“I don’t know how to handle this, really.” I sighed, leaning back into Jesse’s arms. “I mean – we’ve produced this CD that is completely different from what made us popular, and chances are the public will hate it, but we’re here baring our souls about a very…personal issue.”

“Well, there’s really not much for it.” He replied. Being the oldest member of The Band now, Jesse had become quite responsible and thoughtful, although he still was the Jesse I knew and loved.

“Jesse’s right.” Mark sighed. “We recorded this to show the world that we miss our friend, but that we still have hope. We have to put it out there for them.”

“I know.” I wrinkled my nose at Mark. “But it’s still making me nervous. I mean, I’ll probably take every affront to this album personally!”

“We’ll manage. We’ll shut ourselves in a box if we have to.” Chris looked determined, but I decided (after looking around at the rest of the class) that he was the only one willing to be shut in a box just to keep away the bad voices. “But we will prevail, and anyway we’ve got each other.” Chris’ mind worked so oddly, I had trouble following his train of thought. When I told him this once, his had said that that was alright, and to just hang tight until we got to his final thought or my thought car derailed.

“We’ve got each other, and Brad, and Anna Noel.” Dave smiled. After Josh had…died, we’d needed a guitarist. Brad was still too busy, and besides, Dave was getting good. “We’ll make it through whatever comes at us.” He added.

“Have I ever mentioned that saying that does NOT alieviate the nervousness?” I asked him with a grin, poking Jesse for trying to tickle me.

“Darn, she didn’t squeak.” Jesse pouted.

“Yeah, that’s right, I didn’t squeak!” I stuck my tongue out at him. “Let’s go get milkshakes, people – I think we know what we’re doing with that CD.”

~~~

“Hey, Kate, wait up!” Jesse caught up with me as I left the studio, bundled up against the chilly March air. It had been a little over a year and a half since Josh had died – our memoriam CD had sold better than our first one, and had upped the sales of that one too. We’d gone on a short tour of the south east, and started work on another CD. Jesse had recently turned twenty two – my twenty first birthday was less than a month away. We were all coping much better; Helen was the only one that had a long way to go before she was healed. Merrit had actually dragged a smile out of her that day. A smile, and a laugh! A small laugh, but a laugh none the less. It had been a productive planning session. I think the fact that my hair was now a mix of blue black and burgundy also helped – it did look a little funny.

“Hey – that was a fun time today, huh?” I asked, slowing down and waiting for him to walk up to me and hold my hand, which he did.

“Yeah, it was lots of fun.” He grinned widely and kissed the top of my head. “But then, so is hanging out with you.” We walked down the street towards the nearby beach as the sun sank lower.

“I like hanging out with you too, you know.” I said, hugging his arm. He smiled softly at me.

“Kate, have I ever told you that you’re beautiful?” he asked. I smiled widely and closed my eyes, letting Jesse lead me to the beach.

“Yes, honey, you tell me that at least once a week, if not once a day or more!” I laughed. “You don’t ever let me forget it, either. Have I told you lately,” I inquired, “That you are more handsome than Brad Pitt?”

“Well, not within the past couple days, but I appreciate it.” Jesse joked as we walked out onto the sand as the sun hit the horizon. “This is beautiful.” He said, admring it as an artist admires another, greater artists’ works.

“Yes, it is.” I agreed, and sat down, dragging Jesse with me. “Come here, sit down.” Once he was seated, he put his arms around my shoulders and we just sat there, cuddling, and watching the sunset. It was a spectacular sunset, all reds and oranges and pinks.

“Kate…I love you.” Jesse sounded a bit hesitant, and I could understand why: we had never really said ‘I love you’ in quite so serious a form – in the way where we REALLY mean it. I snugged up closer to him, because it was a little chilly, and smiled.

“I love you, too, Jesse.” I murmured. I felt him shift a bit, and he seemed to be getting something out of his pocket.

“I know we’re not completely grown up yet.” He said softly. “Not in the eyes of a lot of people. But we’ve been through a lot together. And I know that we’ve both given some thought to what our future might be…” I turned a bit to look up at him.

“What are you talking about?” I asked quizzically. Jesse blushed and nodded down to his hand, which had finally retrieved the treasure it had been seeking in his pocket. I gasped in surprise and joy – the deepest joy that I’d ever experienced before.

“Katheryn Leighan, my Kissme Kate,” Josh took a deep breath, “Will you marry me?” I looked at the ring he held – so simple and straight forward, just like me. I suddenly started crying and nodding and laughing all at once, managing to get out that special word:

“Yes!” Jesse’s smile grew wider than I’d ever seen, and he slipped the ring onto my finger, then stood to his feet (and pulled me up too) and we started just spinning and dancing and hopping around like little kids or crazy people. I thought back to the Kate and Jesse of Velvet Botox at it’s first performance – the 18 year old hyperactive immature singer and the 19 year old drummer who hadn’t committed to anything but his music. We had come so far, through so much joy and heartache, and it had been worth it. As the sun dipped out of sight before the horizon, I looked up to the sky and shouted in triumph and affirmation.

“YES!”

Acknowledgements

2004-10-10T03:37:00.000-04:00

Acknowledgements: This story (or at least this draft of it) wouldn’t have been possible without the encouragement, nagging, and threatening of many people.

I would like to thank, first off, the ORIGINAL Velvet Botox in its entirety – you’re the best NaNo group a girl could ask for.

Mama Mia, thank you for letting me steal your daughter, and for putting up with our crazy antics.

I’d like to thank Tig, without whom this never would have happened – thank you so much for telling me how awesome this is. Also a huge thank you to Harvest and Steel, who have been wonderfully kind, especially when I was tired and cranky.

I’d like to thank all the wonderful people on the NaNo boards who helped me with concert and band related issues.

To the great people who did the Wednesday rush in Clearwater, I’d like to thank you for putting up with the weirdness Alex and I displayed. A huge enormous hug and thank you to Andy Meeks, for being a wonderful actor and a friendly guy, and giving me a very memorable two days off. The same goes out to Dan Rosenbaum, Ava, and the rest of the RENT 2004 tour cast! You were all wonderful – I love you!

Thanks must also be extended to my dear friend Lauren McClurg and my dearest Michael Barna, for putting up with me when I’d bring up the subject of my novel, and my lacking word count, and everything else that made them roll their eyes.

Thank you to my Gwana, for being awesome, and letting me call you randomly.

Thank you, Ash, for reading my story and taking a liking to my character’s hair.

And thank you to the other four of the real life Unforgetable Five, and to my special girls who are the other two of the Uber Unforgetable Three.

To Alex especially – thank you for cheering me on so much, even when you were behind. Thank you for the music and the wonderful experience that is RENT. Thank you for being there when I need you. You’re wonderful, doll! I couldn’t have done this without you!

And thanks to Willow my Willow, Wil, my Merry, my Dearest – just for being there. Thank you for letting me rant about anything any time. You’re a great friend, and I couldn’t have finished this without you.