I sat up as much as I could in bed and I lit a cigarette, blowing the first cloud of smoke out of my small window. I watched as the road rolled by. I was getting used to it. Getting used to being away from home. It wasn’t that bad, really. I was adaptable. And I didn’t need much. But still, even though I was now with some of my closest friends 24/7, I did feel lonely. It made me think of Daisy. I couldn’t help it.
Although I hadn’t seen her in a few months, instead only speaking to her a handful of times on the phone, I couldn’t really get her out of my mind. I kept returning to that morning at her apartment, seeing her near naked, feeling awkward about leaving. We hadn’t really talked about it when we had phone conferences. Instead, we just talked about the band’s image, how we were being received, and starting to schedule the interview requests that were coming my way.
A cigarette in one hand, my cell phone in the other, I meandered through the contact list until I settled on the one that said simply, “daisy.” I hadn’t quite figured out how to do uppercase letters on the phone yet. I didn’t have a great signal, just a few bars, and I knew we were somewhere outside of Omaha so I couldn’t expect that much. Still, I fantasized about calling Daisy up. I really just wanted to hear her voice.
Without giving it too much more thought, I hit the “call” button and pressed the phone against my ear. It started ringing. My heart was beating faster.
Then… a click.
“Layla Bean,” said Daisy on the other end. “One of my most favorite artists. How are you?”
“I’m good,” I said. “Just laying here on the tour bus.” I blew another cloud of smoke out of the window.
“Nursing a hangover?” asked Daisy, laughing to herself.
“No,” I said. “I’ve been good.”
“That’s good to hear,” she said. “So… what can I do for you, babe?”
“This radio interview we have scheduled in Denver,” I said, fishing for a reason to give her. “I’m just feeling… you know… weird about it.”
“Like how?”
“Well, I’m going to be all alone,” I said. “I have to go into the studio by myself and talk to these DJs. I’m just nervous, is all.”
The truth was, as I spent more time on the road, playing shows with Air Patrol, feeling the immense energy from these huge arena gigs, my anxieties were beginning to dissipate. It was getting to the point where I felt like I was on stage so much, the adrenaline I got from it never left my veins.
“You’re going to be fine,” Daisy reassured me. “They’re just going to throw softball questions. Tell us about the Detroit scene. What’s your first tour like? When’s the album come out?”
“I was wondering,” I went on. “If maybe you’d fly out and be there with me.”
“Me?” said Daisy. “Well, I don’t know, Layla. You have Linus. He could come along.” Linus was our tour manager. I didn’t want him to come along.
“Linus has other things to do in Denver,” I said. I just said that. I didn’t know if it was true or not. “I was thinking that I’d be a lot more comfortable if you were sitting there with me.”
“They won’t want to interview me,” said Daisy through a laugh. “I mean, Layla, they want to talk to you.”
“I don’t mean that you have to say anything,” I said. “Just be there.”
For a moment, there was silence on the phone. I was so worried about it that I quickly pulled the phone away from my ear and looked at the screen to make sure I hadn’t lost reception. Then, replacing the handset to my ear, I heard Daisy once more.
“Denver?” she said. I could tell she was seriously thinking about it from the tone of her voice. “That’s in just 3 days, right?”
“Yeah.”
More silence. More worry.
“All right,” Daisy finally acquiesced. “Just this once. I’m not your manager,” she said with soft laughter.
“Really?” I said, suddenly glowing. I could feel the happiness welling up inside of me. “You’ll come?”
“I will!” she responded, more firmly, more positively this time. “I’ll sit in on the interview and keep them honest,” Daisy said with some spunk in her voice.
“Oh, that’s killer,” I said. I was beaming. “Thank you so much,” I went on. “I really need your support. I promise it’s just this one time.”
“Don’t worry,” she said. “You and Cast Party are really important to Municipal and I know this transition you’re on is a rough road.”
“It really is.”
“But you’re going to be fine, Layla,” she said knowingly. “A couple years from now, you’ll look back on this and laugh. You’ll be like, ‘what was I on?’” Daisy punctuated her statement with a giggle. I tried to laugh along with her.
“I hope so,” I said. “But, honestly, I do feel something changing in me. It’s hard to explain.”
“What is it?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Just confidence or something else. I feel like…” I trailed off.
“Yes?”
“Different, you know?” I said. “Like a different person, in a way. Like I’m Layla Bean still, but it means something else. That’s stupid, I know.”
“It’s not stupid,” said Daisy. I could hear her smile over the phone. “I think you’re right on track, Layla. What you’re experiencing, it has this effect on people. Just try to keep up with it and don’t let it engulf you.”
“That’s pretty portentous,” I said, causing Daisy to laugh.
“I don’t mean anything ominous!” she countered, still laughing. “I just mean, there’s a lot of temptations out there for someone in your position and you might one day wakeup, feeling like you’re unstoppable, impenetrable. It creeps up on you,” Daisy said. “From what I’ve seen with other artists, anyway.”
“I’m going to be good,” I said. “I don’t want to squander this.”
“Hold on to what you’re feeling,” said Daisy. “And don’t forget it. You’re in this transition period and it’s going to hurt. But if you come out on the other side, almost as grounded as where you started, I think you’re going to be fine.”
“Thank you,” I said, “That means a lot to me.”
“Have a great show tonight, Layla,” Daisy said finally. “I’ll see you in Denver, okay?”
“Okay,” I said. “Goodbye.”
“Goodbye.”
I clicked the call off and let my phone slide out of my hands and into the bed. My cigarette had burned out by that time, some ash had fallen down onto my shirt. I flicked the butt out of the window and wiped at the ashes. I had a smile on my face the whole time. I wanted to get to Denver so bad. I could skip Omaha.
Although I could feel the unease in the pit of my stomach, I didn’t feel all that bad as I sat down in the chair at the radio station and pulled the headphones over my ears. As the two DJs spoke some vague instructions to me, I looked over in the corner of the room and saw Daisy there, grinning back, giving me a thumbs up. Her blonde hair was so straight, so ironed, there didn’t appear to be a single frizzy flyaway hair on her head. She was dressed professionally, as per usual, in a skirt and jacket. My heart was racing but with Daisy there, I knew I’d be okay.
“You got that, Layla?” asked Bam Bam. I didn’t know his real name, just his goofy DJ name. He was a short, stocky, greasy looking guy with a goatee. He smiled at me and lifted his eyebrow, he too wearing headphones.
“Yep,” I lied. Daisy had told me that these interviews were usually just a big joke. And if you listen to these morning zoo crew buffoons, I’m sure you’re well aware. They’re just looking to fill air time with jokes for their city’s morning commute. For us, for me, it was a paid advertisement basically. But we didn’t need to sell tickets. The show had been selling itself.
“We’re back in ten,” I heard through my headphones, a woman’s voice. She was the producer and in a different room.
“Smile,” said The Butt, the other half of this particular radio team. Bam
Bam and The Butt. It was just too much. I had always made fun of this kind of show and there I was, pandering to them. I’d never expected to make it this far. “Listeners can hear your smile over the air.”
“Got it,” I said.
I looked over to Daisy one more time and she gave me this teasingly skeptical look. She knew how absurd this was, and it was almost as though she were making fun of me for being involved in this. I absolutely loved that.
“And we’re back, folks,” said Bam Bam into the mic in front of him. “As promised, we’re joined here this morning by rising rockstar Layla Bean of Cast Party. Good morning, Layla!”
“Good morning, Bam Bam,” I said into my mic, trying to smile. It was early, though, and I was feeling pretty tired.
“You guys are killing it,” said The Butt. “Opening for Air Patrol, that’s gotta be a dream come true.”
“It’s like Christmas every day,” I said. “I can’t believe I get to open this present over and over again.”
“That’s a delightful way of putting it,” said Bam Bam. “And — am I reading this right? — every show so far has sold out?”
“That’s right,” I said.
“Amazing,” said The Butt. “I think they’re all coming out to see how hot you are.”
“Hey-o!” said Bam Bam. “C’mon, let’s play nice here. Though, Layla, you do have a great look going on here. It’s like this punk grunge goth thing, like you’re hiding how smoking you are under piercings and blue hair.”
“I, um…” I stammered. Both DJs looked at me with expectant eyes. It was so strange. They were obviously being sexist, focusing on my looks, but their own faces made it look like they themselves were just playing a role. Like they had to say these things. It really pulled the curtain back for me. “Well, I guess I’m sort of inspired by Madonna… and maybe Shirley Manson.”
“Like Madonna and Shirley Manson had a baby,” said The Butt, chuckling at himself.
“Oh, what I would give to be in the room during conception,” said Bam Bam. I couldn’t help it. I laughed at his stupid joke.
“That would be hot,” I admitted with a grin. I could tell that they were happy I was playing along. I glanced to Daisy and she nodded quickly with a brightness in her eyes.
“Now, I’ve heard this single of yours,” said Bam Bam. “What’s it called? Holy Cannoli?”
“No,” I laughed. “Holy Cow is the song title.”
“That’s right,” he continued. “It’s really got this grunge sound — crunchy, right? — but it’s this entirely new throwback thing. What is that?”
“I guess it’s being termed garage rock,” I said. “It’s just something that organically came out of Detroit.”
“At least something is coming out of Detroit,” quipped The Butt.
“Don’t listen to this guy, Layla,” said Bam Bam. “You don’t get the name The Butt from making keen observations.”
“Noted,” I said.
“Well, I like it,” said The Butt. “Whatever it is you kids are doing, bottle that and sell it because it’s wild stuff. Good fun.”
“Right,” said Bam Bam. “I know they’ve been playing your song here at the station almost non-stop in the lead up to the concert tomorrow. And according to my notes here, it’s one of the most requested songs we’ve been getting this past week.”
“You’re kidding,” I said. “Is that true?”
“That’s true,” said Bam Bam. “I think Air Patrol better watch their back, because soon enough they’re going to be opening for you.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” I said bashfully. “Dave Grant is the quintessential rockstar. He’s going to be on top of the pile the rest of his life.”
“But you must admit,” said Bam Bam. “Success is coming fast for Cast Party. You’ve got to get this album out. Can you tell us anything about it?”
“It’s out in 6 weeks,” I said. “We’re just finishing up mastering it and the label is working on packaging. But it’s close. We recorded it in just a few weeks in New York.”
“Just a few weeks?” said The Butt. “That’s fast.”
“We wanted to keep it loose,” I said. “Try to get the live show feel, but in a more produced environment.”
“Does it have a name?” asked Bam Bam.
“It’s called Audition,” I said, smiling, looking down.
“What a perfect name,” said Bam Bam. “Cast Party, your first album, Audition… that’s some wordplay right there.”
“I think you’re gonna get the part,” said The Butt.
“Just not your part,” said Bam Bam. The two of them cackled at the joke.
“I’ll take what I can get,” I said, inspiring the DJs to keep laughing.
“I’ll get your number after the interview,” said The Butt, grinning at me.
“She’s young enough to be your daughter, Butthead,” said Bam Bam. “That is, if you could get any woman to sleep with you.”
“I like The Butt’s style,” I said. “It’s obvious he doesn’t care about looks.” This made both of them burst out laughing. Bam Bam was almost crying.
“Sounds like she’s already got your number,” said Bam Bam. “So listen,” he continued, straightening up and speaking clearly into the mic. “We’ve been talking with Layla Bean of the Detroit garage rock band Cast Party. They’re going to be at the Pepsi Center tomorrow night opening for Air Patrol. If you’ve got a ticket, count yourself lucky. And if you don’t have one, well, you’re basically SOL because this is the hottest ticket in town.”
“Thanks,” I said. “It means a lot to me for you guys to let me stop by.”
“It’s been our pleasure, Layla,” said Bam Bam. “Good luck tomorrow night. Stay tuned, radio listeners, we’ll be right back with more Bam Bam and The Butt in the Morning.”
I watched as Bam Bam pressed a button on his console and the sign reading “On Air” above the door went dark. Immediately, both of the DJs pulled their headphones off and I followed their lead.
“That was great, Layla,” said Bam Bam. “You’re a natural.”
“You think so?” I asked. “I was pretty nervous.”
“We love the jokes,” said The Butt. “Oh man, the joke about my looks… I was dying.”
“I didn’t offend you, did I?” I asked. “I was just feeling it.”
“No, no!” he said, putting his hands up. “It was perfect. That’s what we do here. We just entertain. There’s no line you can’t cross.”
“All right,” I said. “Cool.”
“You’re welcome back any time,” said Bam Bam. He stood up, as did The Butt, and then so did I. We all began shaking hands.
“Thanks,” I said. “That was a cool experience. I’m sure the label will be in touch next time we come through Denver.”
“Perfect,” said Bam Bam. “And thank you, Daisy,” he said, leaning over and giving Daisy a friendly wave. “I’m sure we’ll be working together again soon.”
“Absolutely,” smiled Daisy. She stood up and slowly walked my way. I knew I had a stupid happy glow on my face. I had just done my first live radio interview, and it was more fun than I could have imagined. Once Daisy closed in on me, I stared into her eyes and I almost wanted to cry.
“Where to next?” I asked her.
Daisy laughed and shook her head.
“C’mon,” she said.
“I couldn’t have done it without you,” I admitted to Daisy as we sat opposite each other at a sushi restaurant downtown. We each had a glass of wine in front of us, our second, and there was a wood block of maki rolls in the center of the table that we’d been picking at with chopsticks. “I mean, I don’t want to sound like a weakling or anything, but having you there really gave me a boost of confidence.”
“Aw,” said Daisy with an appreciative smile. “I’m glad I could help.”
“It just means a lot to me,” I said. “I’m weird.”
“You’re not as weird as you play yourself up to be,” said Da
isy.
“Maybe not.”
“You’re not,” she said, plucking up a roll with her chopsticks and popping it into her mouth. After a moment of chewing, she continued. “You’re a fabulous rockstar waiting to be let out. You just need to get out of your own way.”
“I suppose,” I said, feeling shy about it but also feeling warm and eager and fuzzy from her compliment. “I’ll admit, I’ve wanted to get out of my own way for a while.”
“You just have to let it happen, doll,” she said. “You have to let it all just happen.” Daisy eased into her typical big smile.
“I’m feeling it, though,” I said. “I definitely feel different, Daisy. I don’t know what to think about it.”
“What’s it like?”
“It’s like…” I started. I looked upwards and considered the question. After a few moments pause, I looked back to Daisy and opened my mouth. “It’s like freedom.”
“That’s interesting,” she said, straightening herself up to listen. “Continue.”
“It’s like… I feel as though I’ve always had this strange sense of responsibility that never really existed. Just in my every day life.” I looked to my wine glass, picked it up, and took a sip. “Like a duty maybe? I don’t know. But just something in my head that was keeping me back. When I’m on stage, that’s gone. I’m free to do whatever I want. I’m free to be… me.”
“So what’s it like now?” she asked. “What’s changed with that?”
“Well, I’m on stage so much and so much of my time now is dedicated to the band,” I said. “The time spent recording the album, this tour. I live and eat and breathe Cast Party. My daily life includes going to a radio station to just be Layla Bean. It’s almost like I’m always on stage.”
“I think that’s a very accurate way to look at it,” said Daisy. “You’re sort of building the character of you now, right?”
“Right,” I confirmed. “I have to keep performing. Performing all day. Because people are seeing me now, people are talking about me.”
“Enjoy this while you can,” she said. “This transitionary period, I mean. Because if Cast Party really takes off, if the public really knows who you are, things might slip away from you before you know it.”
Rise From Rock City: A Lesbian Rock Star Romance (Revolving Record Book 1) Page 7
