Rise From Rock City: A Lesbian Rock Star Romance (Revolving Record Book 1)

by Nicolette Dane

  “I think I need to get back home,” I said. “I need to talk with the band, with James in particular. With my parents.”

  “I think that’s a good idea,” said Daisy. “But I think you should make the decision on your own first, here in New York, and return home with news. You need to make a choice for yourself, not for anybody else.”

  “You think that’s smart?”

  “I think you may encounter some jealousy back home,” she said. “And possibly some opposition. If you decide that you want to do this — for yourself — and you sign a contract, there’s no going back. No one can convince you otherwise.”

  “Okay,” I said. “I’ll think about it here, make a decision, and then go home. I’ve got another tour looming, and I know the band is eager to get back down to business. James has been calling me a lot lately, telling me they’re ready for me to get back.”

  “I’ll miss you when you’re gone,” said Daisy sweetly. “Long distance relationships are so hard.”

  “I know,” I said. “I think I’ll have to get one of those crystal dildos to remember you by.” I laughed, while Daisy shushed me with an embarrassed smile.

  “I’ll get you one,” she said. “Just don’t say the ‘d’ word so loud.”

  “Dildo,” I said at a higher volume in a very matter of fact tone. “Dildo,” I said again.

  “Layla!” she said, giggling now. Daisy reached across the table and covered my mouth with her palm.

  I gripped around her wrist and we wrestled for a moment, both of us laughing. Once I was finally able to get her hand away from my mouth, I parted my lips wide, making like I was going to shout the word as loud as I could, while Daisy looked on with wide eyes.

  “Just show me how to use it properly before I go,” I said, grinning at her. She looked relieved.

  “Oh, I can show you a lot of things,” said Daisy. “A lot of really fun things.”

  Things didn’t seem so hard with Daisy. She made it all pretty easy, and that calmed me. That’s all I ever wanted. A bit of serenity. I found my peace in Daisy, and I was hungry to see where it went from there.

  Three

  “You what?” asked Renee, perched atop a stool with her hands holding on to the seat between her legs. I was back in Detroit and the season was once again changing, the days getting darker, the air getting colder. Cast Party had met at our practice space downtown for our first rehearsal since I returned.

  “When I was out in New York, I signed another contract with Municipal,” I said. “It’s a contract for just me.”

  “A solo contract,” said James. “You mean to say you signed a contract for a solo record.”

  “That’s right,” I said.

  “What about us?” asked Paul.

  “Nothing’s going to change with the agreement Cast Party has with the label,” I tried to reassure them. “We’re going to continue making records together. But they wanted me to do a solo thing. They made a really nice offer and I took it.”

  “I don’t know how I feel about this,” said Renee, standing up from her stool and walking away.

  “It’s going to be fine,” I said, stepping over to her and putting my hand on her shoulder. She stopped. “Nothing’s changing with us.”

  “Layla,” said James, slowly moving toward me now. “You know this makes us feel like we’re getting kicked to the curb.”

  “But you’re not,” I protested. “We’re going on tour again, we’re planning the next record…”

  “What about the future?” he said. “What if your solo deal takes off, and the label leaves us behind in favor of you?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “But they assured me that we could do this in tandem, that it wouldn’t affect the deal they had with Cast Party at all.”

  “Ups and downs,” said Paul with a defeated sigh. “And I’ve been feeling pretty damn good lately, too.”

  “Look guys,” said James. “Maybe Layla’s right. It’s obvious they have a hard-on for her at the label. We knew this. They’re just trying to lock her in so that they have an exclusive contract with her.”

  “That makes sense,” said Renee.

  “It makes perfect sense,” continued James. “They know she’s a hot commodity right now and they don’t want her getting poached away by another label if she decided to do something solo. They’re just covering their bases.”

  “Right,” I said. “That’s it. I mean, they are already talking about my solo record. But they’re also talking about Cast Party’s next record as well. Like I said, we can do it in tandem.”

  “What about the tour?” asked Paul. “What’s up with that?”

  “In the new year,” I said. “They can’t really work it out until the new year.”

  “Okay,” said Paul.

  “Let’s just… not worry about any of this for now,” said James. “I’ve got some new songs I want to show you all. We need to get cracking on the second record.”

  “I’ve got a lot of lyrics written,” I said. “I was very productive in New York.”

  “We’re glad to have you back,” said James, offering me a half-smile. I could tell the enthusiasm in the room had wilted with my revelation. But they just had to suck it up. The contract was signed and I was excited. Daisy had convinced me that this was what was right for me. It was a huge opportunity and it could irrevocably change my life. It was a change I wanted.

  After practice, James and I walked out of the loft building together, huddled close to attempt to thwart the windy cold. It was suddenly fall. The months had been escaping me, everything moving far faster than I was used to. When nothing’s really happening for you, life feels very day-to-day. But when your life is exciting and novel and changing, the days can surely run away from you without you even noticing.

  “How’s it been around here?” I asked James as we walked into the darkened dusk toward his car.

  “I mean, it’s been fucking killer,” he said. “We’re stars now. Everybody’s tripping over themselves to talk to us. Everybody’s trying to get something. You wouldn’t believe how many local bands and producers want to try to do something together.”

  “It happened really fast.”

  “So fast,” he said. “I don’t believe it, to be honest. It still hasn’t completely sunk in.”

  “We put in a lot of work these last few years,” I said. “So just because success came really fast, it doesn’t mean the entire process was fast.”

  “That’s true,” he said. “But still, it’s a wild situation.”

  “You’re not mad at me, are you?” I asked meekly. “About the solo thing?”

  “No,” he said. “I understand. They made you an offer you couldn’t refuse.”

  “Right.”

  “I just hope you do the right thing by us, Layla,” he said. “We’re in this together, right? Don’t leave us behind.”

  “I won’t,” I said.

  From the side of my eye, I caught someone ambling toward us, cutting through the dark street. I immediately felt the hair on my arms stick up and I gripped onto James. I saw the figure moving closer, covered in a long black shabby coat, a baseball cap on his head.

  “James,” I whispered urgently.

  “Give me your cash!” said the disheveled man in a groggy voice, stumbling in front of us. He didn’t appear very cogent, or sober for that matter. It was quite apparent that he was homeless, maybe mentally ill, and out of options.

  Pulling his hand from his coat pocket, he brandished a knife.

  “Whoa!” I called out, almost falling back. James wasn’t as fazed, however. He looked angry.

  “Fuck you!” said James.

  “James, c’mon,” I pleaded. “I don’t want to fucking do this.”

  “I said, give me your cash!” the man barked again.

  “And I said, fuck you!” called out James. He looked like he was ready to fight, while I quickly reached into my bag to pull out my wallet.

  “You wanna get fucked up?” s
aid the man. He pointed his knife in James’ direction and wobbled it around with his wrist.

  “You’re drunk,” said James. “I’m bigger than you. And I will fucking stomp you.”

  “Here,” I said, pulling out a wad of bills from my wallet. “I don’t care about the money!”

  “Stand back, Layla,” said James, putting his arm out. He gritted his teeth and stared the homeless man down.

  “Ah!” called out the man, leaping toward James with the knife pointed his way. But he just didn’t have the faculties to challenge James, and as the guy swayed closer, James lifted his leg up and kicked the bottom of his foot onto the man’s knee. He quickly crumpled down to the ground.

  “Fuck you!” called James again. “Let’s get out of here,” he said to me.

  “Here!” I said, throwing money down on top of the man, who was lying on the cold cement, gurgling, holding his knee.

  “Layla!” said James. “Let’s go!”

  “I’m sorry!” I said to the man. I could feel tears running down my face. “I’m sorry!” I called again. James had taken off, and once I realized he was leaving, I immediately followed him. I felt sick to my stomach.

  Then we were in James’ Subaru, driving away in silence. My heart was pounding. My hands were shaking. I focused on my breathing, and I tried to calm myself so that I didn’t puke my guts out.

  “I didn’t want to hurt him,” said James calmly, his eyes on the road, turning the car toward the freeway on-ramp.

  “I know.”

  “I’m just sick of that shit,” he said. “I know too many people who have been held up downtown and I don’t want these fucks to think they can get away with it.”

  “I know.”

  “You didn’t have to give him your money,” said James. “He couldn’t hurt us.”

  “We have plenty of money now,” I said. “He was desperate.”

  “That’s not an excuse to take from other people,” he said.

  “I don’t like violence,” I said.

  “Neither do I,” said James. “But it’s getting bad in Detroit. Too many desolate areas. Too few cops around. If I can defend myself, I’m going to.”

  “It’s not worth it,” I said. “We have it good now. It’s not worth risking your life.”

  “Yeah,” said James through a sigh.

  “I’m just glad we’re okay,” I said. I reached over and squeezed James’ arm.

  “Me too,” he said, looking over to me and giving me a wan smile.

  We spent the rest of the drive home to Royal Oak in silence. I had a lot on my mind. In fact, my brain had a difficult time shutting up. Cracking the window, I lit up a cigarette and watched the city go by. Everything was changing, and it was becoming more and more difficult to reconcile.

  I sat at the dining room table in my parents’ house, the two of them on the other side of the table. We had finished dinner, and both my Dad and I were drinking a small pour of bourbon while my Mom sipped on some sherry. This was about a week after the attempted robbery and I had spent a lot of time thinking about it. Thinking about my life, about where I was headed, and what opportunities were opening up for me.

  I really wanted a smoke, but I wasn’t allowed to smoke in the house.

  “Have you figured out your next move?” my Mom asked sneakily, not so subtly hinting that they were ready for me to move out.

  “I’m still working on it,” I said, bringing the bourbon to my lips. “That robbery downtown the other day really put a lot of questions in my mind.”

  “Like what?” said my Dad.

  “Well,” I said. “The label is out in New York, and that’s where they have us recording. Maybe I’ll move out there for good.”

  “That’s a pretty big move,” he said. “What do you think James and the rest of your band will think?”

  “I don’t know,” I said softly. “I don’t think they’d be too happy about it. They’re all very gung-ho about Detroit. It means something bigger to them to be from here.”

  “But you don’t feel that way?” said my Mom.

  “I don’t know what I feel anymore,” I said. “I know that it’s not as fun to be somebody around here because you get noticed everywhere you go. I feel like I can’t just go hang out at the Mystic anymore. I can’t do normal things. I can’t live my life.”

  “We… understand that,” my Dad said.

  “I’m sorry if people are still ringing the doorbell,” I said. “I’m sure it gets annoying.”

  “It’s fine, dear,” said my Mom.

  “I just feel like I’m less and less a part of this place,” I continued on. “I’ve always had a difficult time relating to people around here, outside of my immediate friends and the band. And becoming known… famous, I guess… it’s only made it worse.”

  “So you think moving to New York is the answer?” said my Dad.

  “I don’t know,” I said, wavering. “I don’t know if it’s the ultimate answer, but I think it could be the answer for now.”

  “We support you, Layla,” said my Mom. “In whatever you decide.”

  “I appreciate that,” I said. “I know I’m going to have some opposition, so it’s good to know you guys have my back.”

  “We always will,” said my Dad.

  “I’ve got something for you two,” I said, standing up from my chair. I walked out of the kitchen and to the mud room, pulling a fat white envelope from my coat jacket, and then sauntered back to the table. My parents watched me the entire time.

  As I returned to the table, leaning into it, I picked up my glass and took another sip. Then I set it down and smiled at my parents.

  “Here,” I said, opening the envelope. Reaching in, I pulled out a crisp bundle of money. It was about an inch and a half thick of hundred dollar bills with a paper band wrapped around it.

  “Layla,” said my Mom, watching as I set the cash on the kitchen table.

  “It’s $10,000,” I said.

  “I see that,” said my Mom, picking it up and looking at the wad. The paper band around the bundle clearly had marked the amount of money contained in it.

  “It’s for… rent and stuff,” I said. “These last few years. I should have left home, like, five years ago. So this is just… I don’t know, some payment for all that time.”

  “You didn’t have to do this,” said my Mom.

  “If you’re talking rent over the course of five years,” said my Dad in a teasing voice. “I’m not sure this is going to cover it.”

  “Michael, stop it,” said my Mom.

  “Yeah, I know I probably owe you a lot more for everything you’ve done for me,” I said. “And there will be more. This is just… for now.”

  “This is extremely sweet of you,” said my Mom. “And so unexpected.”

  “You could have written us a check.” said my Dad, laughing to himself. “You’re lucky I know all the tellers at the bank and they won’t question me bringing them this much money.”

  “I don’t even know where my checkbook is,” I said with a shrug.

  “Don’t listen to him,” said my Mom.

  “I won’t,” I said, smiling at her.

  “Well, thank you,” said my Mom, wagging the money at me. “This is very helpful, and truly appreciated.”

  “Things are going well for me,” I said. “And they’re just going to keep getting better.”

  “Make sure to put some of your money away,” said my Dad. “You never know what might happen. You’re in a finicky industry.”

  “I know.”

  “We’re very excited for you, though,” said my Mom. “When I hear your song come on the radio, I get goosebumps.” I couldn’t help but laugh.

  “Thank you,” I said. “I get goosebumps, too.”

  “Don’t let the big city change you too much,” said my Dad with a wink. “Or all that money.”

  “I don’t think it will,” I smiled. “I like to think I’m pretty grounded.”

  “We’ll see,” he s
aid.

  “I think I’m going to go to my room,” I said. “I’ve got a phone call to make and some more thinking to do.”

  “Okay, dear,” said my Mom. “Thank you again,” she said with appreciative eyes. “We’re so happy for your success. You deserve this.”

  “Thank you,” I said. I picked up my glass and turned from them, making my way out of the kitchen and toward the stairs.

  Once in my room, I shut the door firmly behind me and wandered inside. It was a mess, clothes and books and papers strewn about. The walls were painted a dark dusty green, and the room was lit only by my bedside lamp. My bed didn’t even have a frame, just a box spring and the mattress. I had posters hung up, my closet was wide open, and everything just seemed to burst out with familiarity in this room.

  Setting my glass on the table next to my bed, I quickly pushed my black jeans down and stepped out of them. I climbed into bed and leaned back against the pillows, retrieving my drink once more along with my phone. I took a sip and then I looked down into the phone screen, flipping through my contacts, searching for her name.

  I hadn’t talked to her since the robbery. I didn’t want to worry her with it. But I knew that it was time to come clean, and I knew that I needed to hear her voice.

  The phone began to ring, and taking one last drink of my bourbon, I put the empty glass on my nightstand. I thought about Daisy, I thought about the moment her voice would come through the phone speaker, and I reached down beside my bed and retrieved the rose quartz crystal toy she had given me. It wasn’t a new one. It was hers.

  “I’ve been so worried about you,” Daisy said upon answering the phone. “I’ve been waiting and waiting for your call.”