“Totally get it,” I said. “Thanks Chris.”
“Sure.”
“You hassling the talent?” said a voice not too far off from us. Chris and I both looked and saw James walking up.
“No, man,” said Chris, putting up his hand. “I was just—“
“Not you,” said James. “This punk chick here. You a groupie or something, ma’am?”
“Yeah!” I said. “And what of it?”
“How’d you get in here before the doors opened?” he said, still playing along. But then he butted up against me and wrapped his arm around me. “Hey girl.”
“Hey,” I said in an affected tone.
“That’ll be all, Chris,” said James with a toothy grin.
“All right,” said Chris, nodding and smiling. With a beer in his hand, he walked away from us.
“You pumped, or what?” asked James.
“Pumped,” I said. “This feels just like old times.”
“I know,” he agreed. “Feels good.”
“We should do this kind of thing more often,” I said.
“We’ll see how it goes,” said James, hugging tighter against me. “So you know the order of things?”
“I do.”
“Come hang out backstage after the second band,” he said. “Then we’ll call you on, like, mid-set.”
“Got it,” I said.
“But not call your name,” he corrected. “We’ll start playing the song, you’ll run out…”
“I know,” I smiled.
“Good,” said James with a similarly happy smile. “Then we party.”
“Then we party,” I said, laughing. “No breaking stuff, though. I’ve got a pretty nice place. And Daisy will kill me if these kids cause any damage.”
“Yeah, punk Layla is definitely a thing of the past,” James joked.
“You’re funny,” I said.
“I’m gonna get moving,” said James. “Don’t get hammered before you go on,” he said, tapping the beer bottle in my hand.
“Get moving, then,” I said, pushing him away from me.
James stuck his tongue out and then walked away. But I was filled with elation as I watched him leave. We had such a storied history together. I was just glad we could continue to write that story together.
The music was thumping, loud, distorted as I stood backstage, listening for my cue to come out and join Funhauser. The place was absolutely packed, hot and sweaty, and it was the kind of crowd I was familiar with from my past life. I had also noticed a number of people who looked as though they belonged to my newer contingent of fans. Some more mainstream girls, less edgy, you know the type.
Before Funhauser went on, I had been wandering through the crowd to talk to people I knew, and I was often stopped, asked for a picture or an autograph, and I happily obliged. I was impossible to miss, despite my stature. I was dressed up in my old Layla outfit, my hair was bright red, I was asking for attention. I suppose that’s what I always wanted, even though I often rallied against it.
For someone who had been stepped on, forgotten about — or worse, singled out — in my youth, I suppose it was natural for me to gravitate toward something that would gain me greater acceptance. I think that’s why a lot of people try to get fame. They just want to be loved.
Funhauser’s manager Seth approached me as I stared down at my boots, lost in thought. He was silent for a moment before he spoke up.
“Hey Layla,” he said lightly, like he didn’t want to disturb me if I happened to be doing some kind of pre-show ritual.
“Hey,” I said, looking up to him.
“One more song,” he said. “Then you’re on. Cool?”
“Cool,” I said.
“When was the last time you sung this song?” he asked.
“Wow,” I said, considering it. “Six or seven years, probably.”
“That’s cool,” said Seth. “These people are in for a treat.”
“Hope I don’t forget any of the lyrics,” I said with a wink.
Seth smirked and then nodded.
“Break a leg,” he said, giving me a small wave, and then walked off.
I took a deep breath and then exhaled. This all felt so familiar to me. This is what made me feel like I was going back home. A steamy rock club, packed with drunk people swaying and being obnoxious, the loud music assaulting my ears, singing something truly meaningful to me. This brought it all back.
The song began out on stage and the crowd suddenly went crazy. They knew the song well, even though it was a decade old. Some of them probably knew what was happening, having seen me in the audience beforehand. But others were in for a surprise, and that made me burst with excitement. Funhauser was out there playing Holy Cow, Cast Party’s very first single. It had always been a crowd favorite, even before we hit it big, and now it contained just the right amount of nostalgia to demand everyone’s attention.
I watched from just off-stage, hidden, as James stepped up to the microphone.
“Holy cow, I’m laying here deep in wonder,” James began, the crowd singing along with him. “Thinking ‘bout what is coming next… for… me.”
That’s when I ran out onto stage and toward the microphone meant for Funhauser’s bassist, who knew I was coming and stepped out of the way. As soon as I was on stage, the crowd flipped out. I could hear shouting, but I couldn’t make out what they were saying. It was just some sort of indecipherable roar of immense excitement.
“Forgetting all of my faults and blunders,” I sang enthusiastically, my fingers gripping tightly to the mic. “I don’t need them anyway! Leave them all behind.”
I felt real love as I sang. I felt as though I were commanding the crowd, like I was reconvening with James on some cosmic level, and like I was doing exactly what I needed to be doing. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so good about myself. It put a lot of things into place for me, and I wanted to hold on to that feeling. I’d somehow let it slip away for a while.
“Holy cow, your words can no longer hurt me,” I sung on with James accompanying me, looking across the stage at one another and smiling. “I have learned what it’s like to be… on… my own!”
“Now are they all gonna see me?” I sung alone now. “I don’t need them anyway! Leave them all behind… me… this time!”
And I danced, I jumped, I thrashed. It felt like so much fun. These people had all watched as, over the years, I became someone different, morphed into someone they might not have recognized. But I was back, and it was almost as if I hadn’t changed at all. I could feel it. They could feel it. To me, it was reassuring. It made me realize that I hadn’t lost whoever I was in my past. She was still there. She’d always be there. It was just up to me to let her out.
As Holy Cow came to an end, the audience went ape shit. I could hear them screaming my name, screaming for more. We had given them just a little bump, and now they had become fiends.
“Layla Bean, ladies and gentlemen!” said James into his microphone.
I looked over to James and grinned. He was right there with me. James mouthed a song title to me, and it wasn’t the Funhauser song we had planned. It was another Cast Party song. I was dumbstruck, and all I could do was nod to him in agreement. He gave me a thumbs up and then speedily walked the stage, shouting out to the other band members, who all agreed that we should keep going.
Once James returned to the mic, he gave me one more look and I smiled.
“Here’s another,” James said to the crowd, who once again erupted.
I took it all in. I looked out into the sea of people. I smiled. I was so happy that I wanted to cry. And I gave them everything I had.
The black livery SUV idled outside as Funhauser, the last of the guests at my house, stumbled out through their inebriation to be transported back to their hotel. They were loud, making a ruckus, pushing each other and laughing as they tried to find their way to the open doors of the car. I leaned in the doorway, feeling the exhaustion myself, still mo
stly dressed as I had been at the show. However, I’d pulled my boots and tights off much earlier, now wearing just my black frock dress. My makeup was smeared.
James was the last of Funhauser to leave the party, hanging there in the doorway with me to say goodbye. I could feel the sadness within me, but it was only for a moment. I knew that the two of us were back on the right track, and the goodbye this time would only be temporary.
“That was awesome, Layla,” said James.
“Sure was,” I said with drunken bemusement.
“I can’t believe you’re, like, that good of friends with Jack Timberline,” said James in astonishment. “Dude’s all right.”
“He’s a cool guy,” I admitted.
“I guess he’s your LA James,” said James with a smirk.
“No one could replace you,” I assured him, reaching out and placing my palm on his chest.
“You better believe it!” he said with a laugh. “C’mon,” James continued. “Hugs.”
“Hugs,” I replied, stepping forward and wrapping my arms around James. He hugged me tightly and it felt like there had never been bad blood between us at all. It felt right again. I rested my head against him and stood there.
“Tonight really made me miss those old times,” said James. “Really brought me back.”
“Me too.”
“Maybe we could talk about doing that again,” he said.
“Totally,” I said. Our hug ended and I stumbled back, almost tripping but catching myself on the doorframe.
“Careful!” he said, and we both laughed.
“I’m good.”
“Hey,” he said, his voice getting a little sneaky. “I just wanted to let you know, I caught myself staring at your Grammy a couple of times tonight. That shit is cool.”
“Remember when you said it was just a dumb marketing thing or whatever?” I said.
“I remember,” he said. “It’s cool,” James said in earnest. “I’m really proud of you, Layla.”
“I’m proud of me, too,” I said, leaning deeper against the doorframe.
“Okay,” James said. “I’ll see you around, dude. Let’s keep in touch this time.”
“You got it,” I said, grinning, giving James a thumbs up.
James saluted me and then turned, walking toward the open door of the SUV. I watched as he climbed in, shut the door, and then the car rolled off down my driveway. Just like that, everything was quiet. I stood there at the open door for a moment and enjoyed the silence.
Reentering my house and shutting the door behind me, the living room was a mess with empty beer bottles scattered, rocks glasses with the remnants of cocktails at the bottom, couch pillows askew. The sliding glass door that lead out to the deck was wide open. I walked across the room toward it, looked outside to make sure nobody was still out there, and I shut it. Then, without cleaning anything up, I flipped the light switches and ascended the staircase toward my bedroom.
I figured I’d enter a darkened bedroom, with Daisy already curled up in bed, but my curiosity was piqued when I came in and found a slew of candles lit around the room, and a completely naked Daisy laid out on top of the sheets. Her back was on the bed, and her legs hung off the side, feet on the floor. Her eyes were closed but she had a happy grin on her face.
“What’s all this?” I asked, sliding across the carpet with my bare feet.
“Just chillin’,” said Daisy.
“How many Manhattans did you have?” I said with a teasing suspicion.
“Not a ton,” she said. “But I smoked a little weed with those boys from the opening band.” I laughed at her.
“You know what weed does to you,” I cooed.
“Makes me horny,” said Daisy. Her eyes opened and she looked at me as I hovered over her. She smiled, and so did I. Then I leaned down and kissed her sweetly.
“Think your pussy will taste like maraschino cherries?” I said, kissing her once more.
“I told you I didn’t drink a ton of Manhattans,” she said. “But you’ll have to taste for yourself,” said Daisy, dropping her hand and rubbing herself back and forth.
“Stop that,” I said, smacking at her hand. “That’s my job.”
“Then do your job already,” Daisy said, a droopy smile across her lips.
“Fine,” I said, standing back up from the bed. Reaching down, I took hold of my dress and pulled it up over my head, tossing it to the floor. Next, I put my hand behind my back, deftly unclasped my bra, and let it fall off my arms, leaving me standing there in just my panties.
“Love the strip show,” said Daisy, kicking a foot up at me.
“You’re something,” I said, lowering myself between Daisy’s legs at the foot of the bed, and adoringly running my hand over her soft thigh.
“You looked so happy on stage tonight,” Daisy mused as I closed in on her, pressing my lips to hers, feeling the downiness of her fur against my face. “Mmm… it was like the old days.”
“I am happy,” I said gently, my lips vibrating into her. Opening my mouth, my tongue came out and ran upwards on her slit. I could feel her fleshiness, her tenderness, her wetness.
“Does it taste like cherries?”
“Always,” I said, giving her another firm lap.
Not much later, I was sitting upright on my knees, one hand on Daisy’s belly, the other between her legs, flicking my wrist back and forth as I penetrated her with two fingers. She was moaning, gripping the sheets, and writhing her butt down into the bed. Daisy was excited and it showed, her moisture coating me as I fingered her. Taking my hand from her belly, I placed my palm atop her fur and used my thumb to begin fondling her clit.
“I love you,” she cooed. “Don’t stop.”
I watched as Daisy inhaled and exhaled, her eyes closed, brow furrowed, a look of focus on her face. Her lips slightly parted as she concentrated. Grinding down against the bed, her hips moved back and forth in sync with my fingers, as though she were riding me. She looked as though she were being transported to another world.
Next thing I knew, she was twisting and squirming, folding to the side at her midsection while her legs began to kick. Daisy was laughing in pleasure, rolling giggles of joyful completion. I removed my fingers and placed my hands on her thighs, happy to watch her.
“That was perfect,” she said as she relaxed down into the bed.
“You’re welcome,” I said, leaning down and giving her a gentle kiss between her legs.
Everything felt like it was returning to normal. There had been some bumps in the road, that was undeniable, but calm winds were beginning to blow. I had made it through a crisis mostly unscathed, but with a lot of work ahead of me. True self-examination is the only way forward, for a woman like me anyway, and I was ready to figure some things out.
“Stand up,” said Daisy, now leaning back on her elbows and looking at me.
“All right,” I said, smiling at her. I took her command and stood up. Daisy lifted herself up as well and scooted down to the edge of the bed.
“Get these off,” she said, taking hold of my panties and pulling them down my thighs. Once she got them past my knees, she let them fall and I stepped out of them.
“How’s that?” I said, grinning down at her and shifting my hips.
“It’s so funny,” mused Daisy, her eyes focused on my middle, running her fingers through my pubes. “It’s like a little secret only I’m privy to.”
“What’s that?” I said, looking down.
“You’re blonde,” said Daisy. “You’re blonde just like me.”
“Shush,” I said.
“After all these years, I still can’t get over it,” she said. “Everyone’s so used to seeing you with funky hair colors. They’ve got no idea.”
“It’s our secret,” I said, petting my hand over her face, smiling down at her. “Just for us.”
“What do you have against being blonde?” she mused, still fingering through my bush. “So much so that you shaved this all off for
a long time.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I said. “Can we get back to the romance?”
Flash forward a bit, and I had my head buried into the pillows, sitting up on my knees, ass in the air, with Daisy perched behind me. I had my eyes closed and I was meditating, focused on the pleasurable feelings of the firm and thick silicone toy Daisy wielded. It pressed deeply into me, then out. In again, then out. My pussy clenched to it, loving how it felt inside, trying to keep it in longer.
I felt Daisy push her thumb against my ass, and begin to massage me there in tender and even circles as she continued the steady thrusting of the toy.
She knew just what to do. And that meant so much. It’s so intimate having a partner that knows how to take you there. I was grateful for the connection I had with Daisy, and I was determined not to let anything ruin what we had together. Not something from the past, and not something in the future.
“Oh God,” I called out, feeling my midsection squeeze. As I did this, Daisy pressed the toy deep into me and held it there. She pushed her finger tightly against my rear and held that there, also. It was like holding the cap on something that was about to blow up. Everything was aflame inside of me, screaming to be let out.
My body started going into a fit, jerking back and forth. My ass collapsed down onto the bed as I wriggled, the toy Daisy had been using on me slipping out. For a moment, I held myself as I came, a silly grin on my face. Then I felt Daisy lay down beside me, wrap her arms around me, and hold me. I was the luckiest woman on the planet.
I could see it so clearly now.
Everything was calm. Everything felt right. I sat out on the deck, legs crossed, wearing shorts and a tank, eyes closed and relaxing my face. I was trying to meditate, something my new therapist Dr. Reyes had instructed. Mindfulness meditation. She said you just let the thoughts come to your brain, you acknowledge them, and then you let them go. I was always bad at that last part. But I was learning.
It was making me feel better, though. It stilled my mind. It was helping me get through everything. And it was working.
I opened my eyes when I heard the sliding glass door behind me open up, and I turned around at my waist to see what was going on.
Fall Of The Rock Girl: A Lesbian Romance (Revolving Record Book 2) Page 9
