“You feeling all right, Layla?” said James, putting his hand on my shoulder and searching my eyes. “You good in there?”
“I’m great,” I said, widening my smile. “I’m not feeling queasy or weird or anything.” I put my hands to my belly and rubbed in a circle.
“I’m glad,” said James. “Shit’s just really coming together for us, guys. Once the sales numbers from the album start coming back, then we’ll really know.”
“Platinum?” said Paul with a wry grin.
“Platinum,” said James. The two of them highfived.
“Yo kiddos!” we heard from off to one side. The four of us turned and saw Arnie, Micah, and Daisy coming our way. Immediately, Daisy and I locked eyes and stared at one another. I could feel my heartbeat picking up. She drove me crazy.
“Arnie!” called out James. As they approached us, James put his hand in the air and Arnie slapped it.
“You rocked out there, Cast Party,” said Arnie. “Fucking phenomenal. You’re gonna blow up from this, I promise you. This is the big leagues.”
“It felt so good,” said Paul, shaking his head back and forth like he was ready to burst. “It was so surreal.”
“Get used to it, kid,” said Arnie. “You’re gonna be fighting off all those screaming fans before you know it. They’ll be putting posters up on their walls and wearing the t-shirt. We’re blowing the lid off this thing!”
“We’re already getting numbers back on the album sales,” said Micah. “Positive things so far!”
“This early?” I asked.
“Indeed,” said Micah. “Not hard numbers, mind you. Just sales trends that our stores are seeing.”
“Wow,” I mused.
“And now you can actually sell records at the shows,” said Arnie. “Ain’t that something!” He laughed at his own glibness.
“What’s the next step?” asked James. “The record’s out, tour is going well, we just tapped Letterman. What kind of weird fucking magic is next for us?”
“Well,” began Arnie. “After this Air Patrol tour, you’ll get a break. But I think we’ll want to strike while the iron is hot and coordinate another tour around the country, maybe not arenas, maybe some smaller venues as things catch on. We’ll just have to see. But if album sales go well, we’ll get you on some of the other late night shows, we’ll blast you on radio, we’ll make sure your name is out there in the public consciousness. It’s a big time for you kids, real big.”
While Arnie was speaking, I couldn’t help but dart my eyes over at Daisy, who was just standing there silently with a smile on her face. She caught me looking at her and she winked. I made a kissy face at her and felt separated in our own little world until Arnie butted in suddenly.
“And this one,” he said, wrapping his arm around my neck and jerking me slightly. “You’re killing it, hun. We’ve got big plans for you. That radio interview in Denver, the Spun article, those are just the tip of the iceberg. Your pretty little face is gonna make all the kids scrape together their pennies and buy that album, buy that t-shirt, buy that concert ticket. We want the girls to wanna be you, and the guys to wanna be with you. Photoshoots, talk shows, guest spots… you’re going to be everywhere.”
As Arnie focused on me, I could sense a distaste from the rest of the band. But no one would interrupt Arnie in his spiel. He was responsible for making this happen, he was in charge, and if we wanted success we had to follow him. There was no turning back. I knew that, the band knew that, and Arnie knew that. Saying no to him just wasn’t an option at this point.
“But I can have a break, right?” I said meekly. “After this tour? It’s been a whirlwind, honestly. I need to recharge.”
“Of course!” beamed Arnie. “But not too long of a break,” he said with a laugh. “We’ve been working with Daisy over here and her crew to plot out the next steps. Layla, you’re going to love what we have planned. Oh, it’s so big… can you feel that?” he asked us, giving us each a look. Arnie lifted his arm up perpendicular to his chest. “I’m tingling,” he said. “I’m trembling. Cast Party is going to be Municipal Records biggest rock sensation since… since, I don’t know, ever!”
This guy could talk big words, that was certain. But I maintained a healthy level of skepticism around him. He was like a carnival barker at times — “Come one, come all! It’s the greatest show you’ll ever see!” — and you would get the sense that he was somehow pulling the wool over your eyes. Still, the amount of money that was beginning to come in for us from the tour, it was more than any of us had ever personally seen before and it was impossible to deny. And I knew if we were getting a payday like that, it would be even more insane once we were at Air Patrol’s level.
“For now, though,” said Arnie. “We need to get you kids back out to Phoenix. No break for you yet!”
The rest of the band sucked it up and smiled, and I followed their lead. There was a lot of work to be done, surely, and we couldn’t stop now.
A few short months had passed and things were progressing just as Arnie and the label had predicted. The tour with Air Patrol was a huge success, and as Audition grew in popularity thanks to radio and TV blitzes, the call for us to head out again on our own tour was becoming significant. People loved our stripped down sound, our authenticity, our image. We were getting write ups everywhere, we were playing on television, we were getting invited places we’d never even dreamed of. It was a lot to take in, but it was most definitely an exciting time.
And as we came back home to Detroit, we saw just how big we had become. We were the darlings of the local music press. Everybody wanted a piece of us. An interview, a concert, an endorsement, whatever. It was difficult to go anywhere without being recognized, something I was used to when out in the music scene, certainly, but not something I had ever experienced when simply going out in my normal life. In fact, normal life wasn’t quite working for me anymore because of that fact. When we were just a local indie band, we were a well-kept secret. But once we were in the public eye, once we had gone mainstream, our faces were too recognizable to ignore at the store or a restaurant or on the street.
I know the rest of Cast Party felt it too, but I would be disingenuous if I said we felt it on the same level. I was the face of the band, the image, and I bore the worst of it. I was the most noticeable one out of the group, the most specific and unique looking, and because of that I often found myself hounded when out in public. It was a difficult change for an introvert like me, but my ego and confidence had been building and I tried my best to put on a smile when fans would approach me. It was something I had to do for the good of the band.
But it still stressed me out. It still put questions in my mind whether or not I was on the right track.
I sat alone in my childhood bedroom, cross-legged on my bed, my notebook wide open to a page full of scribbles, pen in my hand, cell phone lying next to me. I was dressed down in pajama pants and a tank top, hair back in pigtails, the blue once again fading, and I tried to work all the weirdness I was feeling out into some potential new lyrics.
There was a soft knock on my door.
“Come in,” I said.
The door slowly opened and my Mom poked her head in, offering me a smile.
“May I?” she asked.
“Yeah,” I said. “Come on in.”
She stepped in and closed the door behind her.
“You had a few more visitors today,” she said. “I told them you appreciated their support, but that you weren’t here.”
“Thank you,” I said. “It’s getting pretty annoying, huh?”
“A little,” she said with a grin. “Dad is about ready to completely rip the doorbell out.”
“I don’t blame him.”
“Maybe it’s time, Layla,” said my mother, stepping carefully around her words. “That you figure out another place to live when you’re back in town.”
“Are you kicking me out?” I asked skeptically.
“Well, no,” she s
aid. “But also… yes.”
“Makes sense,” I said, shutting my notebook. My Mom looked at me with kind eyes. I knew she wanted the best for me, I knew she was proud, but my growing fame was beginning to negatively affect my family, and I had to take that to heart.
“You know we’re on your team, Layla,” she said. “We just think you need to do us a little favor and let us have some semblance of privacy back.”
“I get it,” I said with a sigh. “I get it.”
“Take your time,” she smiled. After a moment, she turned and opened the door. “Oh,” she said, having one last thought before leaving. “I turned Nikki away today, too.”
“You turned Nikki away?”
“Well,” said my Mom. “You just told me that you didn’t want to see anyone. She understood.”
“Okay,” I said. “Thanks Mom.”
She gave me one last smile and then left, pulling the door closed behind her.
My Mom was right. I didn’t know what I was doing back at their house. I was just one of those kids that never left. But I no longer had an excuse. I had more money in the bank than they did. If you turned on the radio and left it on for an hour or so, chances were good you’d hear my voice. If I tried to go to my local diner, like Nikki and I had done so often, I wouldn’t be left alone.
In a way, I felt a bit trapped by it all. Where I was, in my suburb of Detroit, felt so small. It felt too intimate. I felt suddenly like I didn’t belong, but in a different way than before. In the past, I felt I didn’t belong because I was somewhat of a weirdo, an outcast. Now I felt like I didn’t belong because I was growing too big for it.
Picking up my phone, I quickly clicked down through the contact list and hit call. It rang a handful of times before she answered.
“Babe,” said Daisy. “How are you doing on this wonderful afternoon?”
“Ugh,” I groaned into the phone. “My Mom and Dad are kicking me out of the house.”
Daisy laughed at me and I couldn’t help but crack a smile of my own.
“That’s hilarious, Layla,” she said. “It’s hilarious that you’re still living at home.”
“In my defense, I’ve been living on the road for months,” I said. “This is just a pit stop. But now I’ve got to figure some new stuff out.”
“You could always spend some time out in New York,” she said lyrically.
“I don’t know,” I griped. “Michigan is home.”
“Everything’s going to be different for you going forward,” said Daisy. “The sooner you come to terms with it, the easier this is all going to be.”
“It’s already different,” I said. “It’s barely been a year and my life feels completely changed.”
“I get it,” said Daisy. I could hear her smile. “I’m with you, dear.”
“I can’t just leave,” I said, feeling some honesty welling up. “What will people think of me if I leave now?”
“Oh, I see,” she said. “You’re worried that people are going to think negatively of you.”
“Well, yeah,” I said. “I don’t want the people around here, my friends, fellow musicians, I don’t want them to think I’m a sell out.”
“What does that even mean?” asked Daisy rhetorically. “You wanted to be a musician and make money doing it. Now that’s happening for you, and you’re worried that people are going to put you down because of it?”
“I admit my wires are crossed,” I said. “I don’t have to have it all figured out yet.”
“I know,” she said. “Just… cut yourself a little slack. Don’t beat yourself up just as things are really taking off. I know you’re from a place with a lot of familiar faces, where people know you and maybe expect something specific out of you. Maybe you should consider that you’re responsible to live for you, not for them.”
“Maybe,” I acquiesced. I was sure Daisy could tell I was feeling down.
“Maybe we should change subjects,” she said, her voice becoming more business-like. “The Gore campaign is interested in having you at a fundraiser to help bring out the youth vote,” Daisy said matter-of-factly. “Is that something you’d be interested in?”
“I can’t really stomach politics right now,” I said.
“So that’s a no?”
“Why would anybody listen to me anyway?” I said, feeling a bit fired up. “I’m nobody. I’m not some smart political mind. I’m a chick in a band. And besides, if the Gore campaign knew just how liberal I truly was they’d slowly back away.”
“So… no?”
“No,” I said firmly.
“Listen,” said Daisy, softening up. “I get that you’re feeling stressed, Layla. I know this is hard on you. I can see it. But I’m on your side. I care about you. Both professionally and…” she said, her voice lowering. “Romantically.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Let me just think about some things, okay? What you’re saying makes sense but I just need to think.”
“I’ll be here for you,” said Daisy. “In New York.”
“You’re something else,” I said. I felt the smile begin working itself onto my face.
“I’ve missed talking to you in person, Layla,” she said sweetly. “This phone thing isn’t cutting it for me anymore.”
“It’s hard,” I agreed. “I miss you, too.”
“Talk soon?”
“Yeah, definitely,” I said. “Goodbye Daisy.”
“Bye babe.”
With a hood over my head and sunglasses on my eyes, I sat across the booth from Nikki at our diner. She was leaning back in her seat, notebook propped up against the table, eyes focused down on it as she ran her pencil over the page. I sat and watched her as I held onto my coffee mug, trying to think clearly but not really coming up with much.
“You look ridiculous,” she said without looking up at me.
“I agree,” I said.
“It’s rainy outside right now and you’re wearing sunglasses.”
“I know.”
“Do you really think anyone in here would recognize you?” Nikki asked, her eyes darting up to me and then off into the diner. “It’s mostly old people in here right now who couldn’t give a fuck about you.”
I looked around the diner and sighed. Slowly, I removed my sunglasses but kept my hood up.
“Better?” I asked.
“Better.”
“I’m sorry my Mom turned you away the other day,” I said. “I was just in a little rut, you know? I’m trying to get my head on straight.”
“Not accepting visitors!” said Nikki with a teasing laugh. “It’s okay, Layla. I understand.” She continued on with her drawing.
“And look,” I went on. “You know I’m getting recognized all over the place here, to the point where I feel like I can’t go out and do anything anymore.”
“It’s not that bad,” she said. “You’re just exaggerating.”
“Maybe I am,” I said. “But I’m a damn introvert and I am not equipped to deal with all these people.”
“You’re funny,” said Nikki, setting her notebook down and looking at me with seriousness in her eyes. “You go away for months on this amazing tour, you play your music in front of… what? Hundreds of thousands of people? And now you can’t deal with a couple people coming up to you every day and asking for your autograph or something? Get a grip.”
“I sense a bit of rancor in your voice,” I said suspiciously.
“I guess I’m just tired of hearing the whiny bullshit,” said Nikki. “You’ve got it made. In the past year, I’ve watched you go from being my best friend, sitting there across the booth from me, to this famous rock star chick constantly on my radio and my TV. And you’re over there complaining about how bad you’ve got it? Come off it, Layla. You don’t understand how it makes other people feel when you complain like you are.”
“I’m not trying to offend you with my feelings,” I said. “But I’m allowed to feel this way.”
“You are,” said Nikki. “Feel a
way.”
I felt like an outcast in my own skin. I knew that Nikki was angry at me for some reason. Maybe she was jealous? Maybe she thought I was a sell out? I wasn’t sure. But I could tell that something was stuck up her ass about me and my success. It made me feel alienated, like my last bastion of comfort was eroding. Nikki was one of those people in my life, like James, who I’d known for so long, who I’d relied upon to have my back. And now it felt like I was losing her.
I wanted to talk to her about leaving for a while, about heading out to New York, but it just didn’t feel like I could.
“I need to figure out what I’m going to do,” I said. “My Mom told me the other day that I should move out of the house. Too many people are figuring out the address and stopping by to see me.”
“Like me?”
“Stop,” I said. “I’m serious. It’s just getting… weird, you know? I think I need to find some place more private so that I’m not worried about stalkers or whatever.”
“Maybe you could move downtown,” said Nikki, changing her tune from accusatory to reluctantly helpful. “You could probably hide in the city.”
“Detroit?” I said. “Yeah, maybe. It just feels like its getting worse and worse down there.”
“Like how?” she asked.
“You know… crime, and stuff,” I said. “The city’s dwindling, people are leaving.”
“So you’re worried about getting jacked downtown?” Nikki said, shaking her head. “Something is happening to you, Layla. You’re changing.”
“I know,” I said, nodding. “I know something’s happening to me.”
“Money and fame,” said Nikki. “You grew up so fast.”
“You know it makes me feel like shit when you say that,” I said. “It’s really not that simple.”
“Maybe I’m just feeling left behind,” she said with a sudden burst of candidness. “It’s like, for the past 6 months or whatever, you’ve been gone. Whenever I tried to call you, I got your voicemail. And the other day I go to your house, and what happens? I’m turned away at the door.”
“I don’t mean it,” I said. “This thing has a mind of its own. I know that sounds like a cop out, but I feel very out of control in regards to what’s happening to me.”
Rise From Rock City: A Lesbian Rock Star Romance (Revolving Record Book 1) Page 11
