Fall Of The Rock Girl: A Lesbian Romance (Revolving Record Book 2)

by Nicolette Dane

  “That’s why we got together in the first place,” she laughed. “Come on. I’m not just a pretty face.”

  “But you’re that, too,” I said. “A pretty face.”

  “I’ve got it all,” Daisy said conspiratorially. “Brains and beauty.”

  “Do you really forgive me?” I asked suddenly. “God, I just can’t get over this. I’m sorry to bring it up now.”

  “It definitely hurt,” said Daisy. “But look… just drop your guilt. Stop worrying about it. All relationships go through problems. We just hit a rough patch. And I believe what you’ve told me. I think we can work through this successfully.”

  “Thank you,” I mused. “That means so much. I need that forgiveness right now. Especially from you.”

  “Let’s move on from that, okay?” said Daisy. “We negotiated with Providence and Trish today,” she went on. “The license is a go. It’s going to be a big thing for you.”

  “That’s great,” I smiled. “Trish called me immediately afterwards to tell me the good news.”

  “Oh yeah,” said Daisy with a laugh. “Sometimes I forget how intertwined all this is.”

  “Hey,” I said, suddenly feeling an epiphany. “You just said something that finally registered with me.”

  “What’s that?”

  “When we were talking about a public and private persona, you said something about your public persona helping to keep your sanity when you’re doing a job you don’t really want to do,” I said. “Did you mean that you do that? Like, you’re not doing what you really want to be doing?”

  “Well, maybe,” said Daisy with a shrug. “I’ve been in charge of PR at Municipal for a long time now and, I have to say, I’ve sort of gone into autopilot.”

  “Do you ever think there would be opportunity for you to ascend higher?” I asked. “Like, run the whole show?”

  “Oh God, no,” she lamented, absentmindedly swirling her wine around in her glass. “Wolfgang Rams runs Municipal. Despite Arnie bringing you in, he still couldn’t get a better seat at the table. That’s why he left.”

  “So, no chance of you doing much better there?”

  “It’s also an old boys club,” said Daisy. “A lot of people there still live in this 80s coked out fantasy land of the music business. I mean, those characters will be gone soon enough, they’ll just die off, but Rams is old school, the business isn’t always kind to women. I don’t know, Layla.”

  “You think you’d ever want to run a record label?” I said.

  “I enjoy the business,” said Daisy. “I came into it not really knowing anything about musicians. But now, I’m a convert. It’s fun seeing people like you inspire and entertain so many fans.” She gave me a warm, wide smile.

  “Maybe we can figure something out some day together,” I said. “Maybe we can figure out how to do our own thing.”

  “That could be really cool,” admitted Daisy. “Let’s not forget about it.”

  “Deal,” I grinned.

  Our waiter finally returned with our meals, slipping them down in front of us, and offering us both another glass of wine, which we dutifully accepted. The food looked great, but I was already feeling quite satisfied. Romance was returning to my life, and I was suffused with love. I caught eyes with Daisy and we held on for a moment. All the good memories came flooding back.

  It must have been 2AM, or around that time anyway, and I stood out on the balcony of our bedroom, leaning up against the rail, dressed in just a tight t-shirt and panties, pressing a cigarette to my lips and sucking it down. I cursed myself for starting again, but I’d actually been doing pretty good. I was just having a handful a day. Nothing I couldn’t overcome.

  But I couldn’t sleep, my mind was preoccupied, and a cigarette on the balcony sounded nice.

  The city laid out in front of me was alive, as it always was, and the hilly landscape around the house was peppered with the porch lights of all the homes near us. Many of these people had some kind of fame, perhaps not at my level, but some kind of notoriety nonetheless. Some were just wealthy, working in Hollywood, working in music. I felt oddly safe up here. And for the first time, I started to feel a sense of belonging.

  Once you reach where I was, you can’t go back to normal. I saw that when I returned to Michigan. Even Nikki told me that she felt something different radiating off me. Like I had some kind of new aura. I remembered something Audrey, of all people, had said. She had told me she wasn’t really a starstruck person, but that seemed fishy to me. Even celebrities acted weird around other celebrities. Even I, when I had my freakout, felt it strange to be so close to Jack. And Jack was a great friend.

  There’s just something that changes when you have so many eyes on you. It’s tough to put into words. It’s alienating, but sometimes that alienation can bring you together with other people who feel it too.

  I was grateful for my life, and for what I had achieved. But now that I was here, I wouldn’t wish it on anybody else. If your goal is fame, I urge you to rethink it. It’s lonely, it’s strange, and it’s not what you think it is.

  I don’t fully trust it. One day, they all love you and cheer your successes. And the next, well, they want to watch you fall into your own pit of despair. Whatever makes them the most money.

  “Hey,” I heard behind me. I broke from my thoughts and turned around. There stood Daisy, just inside the bedroom, looking at me through the opened sliding glass door. She was completely bottomless, wearing just a white tank top. That’s how she often liked to sleep.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, quickly waving in front of my face. “I didn’t mean for any smoke to get inside.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I just couldn’t sleep.”

  “I turned over and you weren’t there,” she said absently. I could tell she was still a little sleep-confused. Almost automatically, Daisy yawned and stretched, her tank top pulling upward on her belly and exposing her navel. Though she was already quite exposed enough as it was.

  “I’ll be there soon, okay?” I said, offering her a tender smile.

  “Mm hmm,” said Daisy, nodding and turning away from me. I watched her as she walked back toward our bed, her butt swaying up and down as her legs carried her. I loved her butt.

  Sometimes we get lost in our own heads, enveloped by whatever negative voice that’s trying to sabotage us, maybe because we feel we’re not worthy enough, and it can cause us to lose sight of the things in our lives that we should be grateful for. For me, Daisy was one of those things. When I’d met her, all those years back, I was flabbergasted at how such an amazing woman like her could love someone like me. I was grateful and I was honored.

  And then, I almost fucked it all up.

  Maybe it was a midlife crisis coming a bit early, maybe it was growing pains, maybe reluctance to change. But I had to work on some things about me, figure out why I was like I was, get to the bottom of this anxiety that’s been a constant throughout my life. I had to find the calm in my life. It was time to get serious.

  I rubbed my cigarette butt out on the railing, and dropped it into a coffee mug on the ground of the balcony. Stepping back into the bedroom, I slid the glass door shut and I sauntered my way back to bed. Daisy was waiting for me, already sleeping, a contented smile on her face. I had it all.

  I sat in a meeting room at a large mahogany table, a leather placemat in front of me, a glass of water on top of that. Next to me sat Trish, and across from us were three studio executives from Providence Pictures. Two men and a woman, all three dressed in grey suits. They were all probably in their 50s, or maybe early 60s, and looked as though they’d been in the business for a long time.

  “We’re elated that you’re on board, Layla,” said Larry, a wiry man with thinning hair. “We worked everything out with Municipal and with Trish here, and we’re excited to get moving on this project.”

  “It sounds great,” I said. “I’m excited.”

  “You’re familiar wi
th the franchise, of course,” said the other man. Ira was his name. He was a bit nerdy, a small face with big glasses. He looked like an accountant to me. “John Zane, Super-Spy.”

  “I’m familiar,” I said with a smile. I could tell Trish was excited, because she lightly pinched my leg under the table.

  “John Zane is a CIA agent,” said Larry. “He travels the world, infiltrating enemy groups, espionage, fires a lot of bullets and sets fire to a lot of cars.”

  “And bangs pretty ladies,” I said. “Yep, I know.” They all laughed at my candor.

  “Right,” said Larry. “And you also know that the introduction to the film is usually a drawn out thing with a song. Enter you, we get you on board with your song On The Bubble. It’s perfect for this film, the lyrics mesh great. We love it.”

  “Okay,” I said. “So what’s next?”

  “We’ve licensed the song through Municipal, and that’s all taken care of,” said Francine, who was sitting directly across from Trish. “But now we want you.”

  “Me?” I said. “What do I do?”

  “We want you for two things,” said Larry, holding up two fingers. “First, we want you to appear in the introduction.”

  “Like… I act?” I said.

  “Not exactly,” said Francine. “The way we envision it, you’ll be a singing silhouette, just kind of swaying there as you sing. We’ll be able to see your face, see that it’s Layla Bean, but it won’t really be acting. Just some dancing.”

  “I can do that,” I said. “That sounds easy enough.”

  “And two,” continued Larry. “We’ll have a scene later on in the film where John Zane is in a club, and you’re performing at the club. It’ll be a lounge act version of On The Bubble, maybe kind of bossanova jazz. You’ll be all done up, elegant sparkly dress, sort of a background element to the plot at that point.”

  “Will she have any lines?” interjected Trish.

  “We don’t have any plans to write her into the script,” said Ira. He knew what that kind of thing could cost.

  “No,” said Larry. “Just the music we’ve licensed, her image, some performance.”

  “Do you want lines, Layla?” asked Trish, looking over to me. “Do you want to act?”

  “Not really,” I said. “I think what they’re proposing sounds just fine.”

  “Three days of shooting, tops,” said Larry. “We’ll have the bossanova version of your song arranged, you’ll come in and record that in a couple of hours. The actual filming is all lip syncing. Layla, this will be easy for you.”

  “Is there anything else?” I asked. “Anything else you’re thinking for this?”

  “Absolutely,” said Francine. “We’ll be building a marketing campaign around the song for the film. So it will be heavily involved in the trailer and in the advertisements. Also, we want you at the movie premiere. No performance, just attendance. But that’s a year away.”

  “We want you as a face for this film,” said Larry. “We want to be able to use your face to sell tickets.”

  “Yeah, this sounds like something I can do,” I said. “It could be a lot of fun.” I smiled. The entire thing did sound quite easy and stress-free. It was pretty wild that I was even getting the opportunity to do something like this. They had reached out to me.

  “Super,” said Larry. “We’re excited. This is going to be the biggest John Zane movie yet.”

  “Now hold your horses, Larry,” said Trish. “Obviously Layla needs to be well-compensated for you being able to market her image for your blockbuster. She’s a hot commodity, people love her, they expect a certain quality when they think of Layla Bean.”

  “Absolutely,” affirmed Larry, putting his hands up. “We’re cognizant of that.”

  “We’re prepared to offer you five million dollars for this,” said Ira. “Pursuant, of course, to the contract we negotiate with Trish and our studio lawyers.”

  “Just specifics,” said Larry. “We’ve laid out the gist. It’s a little bit of work from you, then we can use your image in marketing.”

  “What do you think?” I said, looking over at Trish.

  “I think it’s a good start,” she said with an impish smile on her face.

  “Once we know that Layla is tentatively on board,” said Ira. “We’ll be happy to negotiate further.”

  “I’m on board,” I said, grinning. “I guess I’m a Zane Girl.” They laughed happily at my joke, and all three of them stood up. Trish and I followed suit, and we all began shaking hands. The Providence execs were obviously very happy that we’d come to a provisional agreement. And I was, too. This kind of stuff didn’t have to be hard or scary, I didn’t have to carry any angst over it. Instead, I could just focus on the positives my work could do. The happiness it could bring people.

  “Thank you so much, Layla,” said Larry, shaking my hand, and Trish’s hand, once again as they accompanied us to the front of the office. “We’ll be working with Trish further on this and we hope to have contracts finalized shortly. Filming begins in just a few months.”

  “Thank you all,” I said. “I’m really looking forward to it.”

  As Trish and I stepped in the elevator, I noticed she could barely contain herself. Once the elevator doors closed, however, she burst out.

  “This is spectacular,” she said, turning toward me and smacking my shoulder with her palm. “Layla, I’m going to rake them over the coals. They already bought your song, and now they need you. This is a payday for us.”

  “Do your thing,” I said, smiling back at her.

  “I live for these kind of negotiations,” said Trish. “This is a game to me.”

  I was happy to leave it all in Trish’s hands. I knew she’d do a good job.

  I was feeling giddy. James had texted me that he and Funhauser were in town and ready to rock. The show was coming up soon, and while it was still officially a secret that I would be there, strategic leaks were coming out in the music media that I would be reuniting with my old bandmate in some capacity. Nobody was sure what, but they were certain that it would be an awesome surprise.

  The plan, as we had constructed it, was that I would join Funhauser on stage, mid-set, at the Roxy — a famous, and sometimes infamous, rock venue in LA — and we’d do two songs together. One Funhauser song, one Cast Party song. To me, I just felt happy that James and I were able to bury the negativity of our past. I had carried it for too long, and it was a dead weight that I was relieved to jettison.

  The show was some sort of special showcase night for the record label that Funhauser was signed to. It was a smaller label than Municipal, called Technovinyl, but they had a handful of notable bands, Funhauser being one of the most prominent. It made me jealous, in a way. James was still living the dream that we had outlined when we started out. And with Technovinyl, he had a lot more creative control over everything he did. It was a nice balance between being beholden to a label, and being completely independent. I respected that.

  This upcoming performance was at the forefront of my mind. The Roxy was the kind of venue I’d gotten my start at, something smaller and more intimate. I’d only been playing stadiums for the last couple of years. This would be like returning to my punk rock roots. It filled me with real joy. Like, honest to goodness joy.

  Sometimes you forget what joy feels like. But then, when you experience it again, it’s like an epiphany… ‘oh yeah, that’s what this is all about!’

  Climbing up Daisy’s body, catching my breath, I wiped the back of my hand across my lips and released a long, happy sigh. Daisy was lying back, legs indolently squirming under the sheets, hand to her breast, eyes wide and staring up at the ceiling with her mouth agape.

  Then I collapsed down next to her, lazily draping my arm over her bare stomach, our touching flesh sticky with sweat.

  I kissed her neck as I waited for her to come back down from the clouds.

  “Wow,” she said between heavy breaths. “Thank you.” She brought a hand up and pette
d it adoringly through my hair.

  “Welcome,” I mewed.

  “You do this little twisty thing with your tongue,” she mused. “Like, instead of up and down, it’s side to side or something. I’d love to see how you do it, but I guess I can only feel it.”

  “I could video tape it next time,” I said, kissing her on the cheek. Daisy laughed.

  “No cameras anywhere near that area,” she replied.

  “C’mon,” I teased, reaching out and taking hold of her nipple, giving it a light pinch.

  “Hey!” she protested through another laugh, swatting at my hand.

  “Sorry,” I beamed.

  We relaxed there in silence for a few moments. Daisy’s body was warm against mine.

  “I can’t stop thinking about this show,” I admitted softly to Daisy. Her fingers continued to slowly roll through my hair.

  “It does sound like a lot of fun,” she said. “And I think it’s something you need.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Well, yeah,” she went on. “I think it’ll get you back to your roots in a way, and help balance you out.”

  “I think so, too,” I said.

  “You’ve got this big movie thing on one hand,” said Daisy. “And this smaller, yet exciting concert with James on the other. It’s like you’ve got your feet in both worlds.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “It’s nice.”

  “You seem preoccupied,” said Daisy. “Were you zoning out when you were going down on me?”

  “No,” I laughed, looking away. “But yeah, maybe I’m a little preoccupied.”

  “What’s up?”

  “I just feel guilty still,” I said. “That’s all.”

  “Oh,” she said knowingly. “Yeah, I get it. But really Layla, it’s fine. I mean, I feel guilty, too. We just have to let this strengthen us, rather than bring us down.”

  “I don’t mean to bring this up right now,” I said, motioning with a hand down to our nudity. “You know, it’s just… it’s a thing.”

  “I love you,” said Daisy smiling reassuringly. Leaning forward, she kissed me sweetly on the lips. “Let’s move on.”