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

by Nicolette Dane

  “It’s all for her,” I heard Rams say matter-of-factly. “Treat it as such.”

  But I couldn’t hang around any longer without appearing suspicious. Turning to face forward, I followed James’ lead down the hallway to our meeting at the studio.

  The back and forth between New York and Detroit was beginning to become a blur. After our meeting at the label, and some practicing in a studio space Municipal had supplied us, I flew back home with the band for Christmas. My mind was elsewhere, however. I wanted to spend the holiday with Daisy, but she assured me that it would probably be a bad idea if I went home with her to Millbrook. Her parents might be perplexed by a young woman with blue hair and face piercings, a girl who was sleeping with their daughter.

  I laid low while in Detroit. I had no plans to go out, and I only wanted to spend the requisite time with family for Christmas and then pop right back on a plane and return to my new home. To my own apartment in the big city. To the life I was beginning to build with Daisy.

  But nagging me in the back of my mind was that line I’d overheard Wolfgang Rams say. That it was all for me. I had a feeling I knew what he meant, but I didn’t want to believe it. I couldn’t believe it. It would only go to my head if I did.

  We had Christmas at my parents’ house, the entire family coming over on Christmas Eve to celebrate. It was really the one time of year we all got together, and most of them hadn’t seen me since things had blown up with Cast Party. I was a spectacle. Most everyone in the family was eager to talk to me, and it wore me down quickly.

  On that night of celebration, feeling anxious from all the questions, from all the attention, I slipped away at my first chance, stuffed myself into my oversized parka, and took a pour of bourbon and my cigarettes outside into the cold.

  I was shivering, standing at the edge of the open garage, watching the snow fall, but I didn’t care. I sipped from my glass in silence and puffed on my smoke. It was nice to have a break from all the voices inside. I told myself, once back indoors, I’d say goodnight and head up to my room. I couldn’t take all the attention any longer.

  Breaking into my thoughts, I heard the door inside of the garage open up, a stream of light shine out, and then a large body move itself through the doorframe, shut the door, and begin walking my way.

  It was my cousin Zack. He was tall and burly, with fiery red hair puffed out in curls, and an accompanying orange beard. Zack was sweet, a good guy, but he definitely had an edge to him. He was the kind of guy who came off to me like he wouldn’t hurt a fly, but you knew you’d want to have him around if a fight ever broke out.

  “Mind if I join you?” he asked, pulling a smoke of his own out and quickly lighting it.

  “Sure,” I said. “It’s pretty cold, though.”

  “That’s because you’re a stick,” he said to me, bumping his girth against me and giving me a good knock.

  “Maybe,” I said.

  “I feel like I can’t turn on my radio without being reminded of my cousin,” he said.

  “Yeah?” I said, exhaling smoke into the cold air.

  “I like your music,” he said. “It’s pretty cool.”

  “Thanks,” I said. I wanted to be left alone, but I also didn’t want to offend Zack by telling him such.

  “So you moved to New York, huh?” said Zack. “Detroit not good enough?”

  “I was just looking for a change,” I said. “It’s not for good. Just a break.”

  “Right,” he said. “So you’re doing pretty good,” Zack continued on. “Big hit record on the radio, a pad in New York City.”

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “Well, I was wondering if maybe you could help me out,” he said. There it was. I had grown up with Zack, and I had known him well over the years. He was just a year older than me. This wasn’t necessarily something I expected from him, but it also wasn’t entirely a surprise.

  “I’ll listen to your demo,” I said in an even tease. Zack laughed.

  “No, not that,” he said. “I mean… listen. This isn’t something the family really knows, but I got a DUI. I’m not proud of it. It sucks, actually. I lost my license.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “And just… the lawyer fees and the court costs,” he continued. “They’re crazy.”

  “I can imagine,” I said.

  “I was hoping that maybe you could help me, Layla,” said Zack. “With just a small loan, so I can take care of all this. I’ll pay you back.”

  I felt queasy and anxious. I felt trapped. I took another sip from my drink and remained silent, thinking about Zack’s request. It pained me to have to field such an ask, but at the same time it seemed obvious to me that this type of thing would happen. When you start to see a modicum of success, everybody starts coming out of the woodwork to grab for their piece. Rather, their perceived piece.

  “It’s not like I’m a millionaire,” I peeped. “I’m not fucking rolling in it.”

  “I know, Layla,” said Zack, talking with his cigarette in his mouth. He took a long drag on it and then exhaled. “It’s just a small loan.”

  “How much?”

  “I owe about $5000,” he said.

  “That’s what you call a small loan?”

  “C’mon Layla,” he said. “We’re family.”

  “That’s a lot of money,” I said. “And a DUI is pretty fucking irresponsible.”

  “I’m not gonna do it again,” he swore. “Besides, it’s not like I’m allowed to drive a car anyway.”

  I took my time. I puffed my smoke, I sipped my bourbon, I let Zack stew in silence as we watched the flurries of snow float down from the sky above and cover the tire tracks in the driveway. I shook my head and really thought about it. I’ve heard you never loan money to friends and family if you want to keep the peace. You never loan money out that you’re afraid you might lose.

  “Okay,” I said. “But it’s not a loan. I’m hiring you on as my official boot licker. I expect you to thoroughly clean all of my boots, top to bottom, with your tongue.”

  “Yeah?” said Zack. “I’ll do that!” he said in seriousness.

  “No, I’m kidding,” I said. “You can have the money. I don’t want it back.”

  “Layla, that’s fucking awesome!” he beamed. Reaching out, Zack hugged me tightly and pulled me up against him. He was far bigger than I was, and his embrace lifted me off the ground.

  “Okay, put me down,” I said breathlessly. “Put me down.”

  “Sorry!” he said, chuckling happily to himself as he released me. “This is huge, Layla. I really appreciate it.”

  “Just don’t…” I began. “I mean, look… this is the only time, okay? This is your one free pass, you got it?”

  “Got it!” said Zack. I could see the joy in his eyes. While he was a goodhearted dude, and he meant well, I had a sneaking feeling that it wouldn’t be the last time. But you’ve got to say that kind of thing just in case the person you’re talking to does take you seriously. You don’t want people to think they can continuously take advantage of you.

  “But just, you know… “ I said. My words were escaping me. I wasn’t used to these feelings, I wasn’t used to this role. “Send me the bills,” I said. “I’ll pay them for you.”

  “You don’t trust me with the money?” Zack asked with a grin.

  “No,” I said flatly. “Send me the bills.”

  “Yes ma’am!” he said, saluting me.

  “Okay,” I said, brushing some snow off my shoulder. “Can I finish my smoke out here alone?”

  “Sure thing,” said Zack. He dropped his own smoke to the concrete below us and stomped it out. “Thanks again Layla. This means so much to me. Merry Christmas!” He gave me one more smile and then turned away, making his way back toward the garage entrance to the house and leaving me alone, once again, in the quiet of Christmas Eve night.

  I closed my eyes and attempted to center myself. I missed Daisy.

  Walking through the airp
ort terminal, I had big sunglasses over my eyes, my hoodie up on my head to cover my hair, my big winter coat covering my thin frame. Out from the bottom of my coat came my stick legs, tight black jeans covering them. I carried a black duffel bag at my side and I sped towards the exit, not needing to stop at baggage claim, not wanting to be recognized as I went to find a taxi.

  But it must have been my face piercings or my pale visage, maybe all the black I was wearing, that gave me away. Out of nowhere, a girl stepped into my path and offered me a weak smile as she approached.

  “Excuse me,” she said. She was cute, young, pale, with overwrought and severe makeup. Also in black, this girl had a look much like my own. But if I had to guess, I’d say she was younger than me, probably 18 or so.

  “Hi,” I said, stopping, feeling derailed and anxious. I wasn’t in the mood to talk, but the look on this girl’s face convinced me that a few words wouldn’t be that bad.

  “Are you Layla Bean?” she asked in a whisper. “From Cast Party?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Hello.”

  “My name’s Kat,” she said.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Kat,” I said. “Is there something I can do for you? You want, like, an autograph or something? I’m kinda in a hurry.”

  “No, that’s okay,” she said. “I don’t need an autograph. I just saw you rushing around, and I knew it was you. I figured this would be, like, my only chance to ever talk to you. I really love what you do.”

  “That’s sweet,” I said.

  “Can I be honest with you?” Kat said solemnly. “I know we just met, but I feel like I know you already.”

  “Yeah, sure,” I said, looking around, worried that talking with Kat might attract other people. My anxiety from being at home for the holiday hadn’t yet fully dissipated.

  “Your song Holy Cow,” started Kat. “It saved my life.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah,” she affirmed. “Like, not to get too heavy, but I was feeling pretty suicidal over the summer. I was off my meds, you know, and the stress and anxiety I was feeling about going to college… it just made me feel really sick.”

  “I understand,” I said carefully, feeling my heart begin to warm.

  “And just your lyrics… I don’t know,” Kat said, looking away. “Forgetting all of my faults and blunders,” she said, half speaking and half singing the song.

  “I don’t need them anyway,” I sang lightly with a smile growing on my face.

  “Yeah,” said Kat, smiling. “It was just something that… it affected me at a time when I really needed it.” She lifted her hand to her face, a fingerless glove covering it, and she wiped at her eye.

  “Look,” I said, leaning in closer to her. “I know what you’re going through. I feel it, too. I struggle with anxiety. I mean, I feel it right now.”

  “Really?”

  “Of course,” I said. “I feel it a lot. It’s getting better, though. I’m doing this thing now, you know? And stuff is working out for me. I mean, I’m not that much older than you so I can’t really speak from some authoritative position. I don’t really know shit,” I said, taking a deep breath. “But it gets better. There’s never a good reason to kill yourself.”

  “I know,” said Kat solemnly, looking down.

  “I guess, like, if you’ve got a terminal illness and you’re in pain or something,” I said. “I don’t know. But not over stupid shit. Not over our anxieties and worries. There’s help for all that.”

  “What do you suggest?”

  “Well, I guess you’ve got to… do what you feel you’re meant to do,” I said. “Be you at all costs, and don’t let others design your life for you. Does that make sense?”

  “It does,” she said with a growing smile.

  “I had a rough time when I was young, too,” I said, speaking through a long exhale. “I got treated like shit because of how I looked, because I was a lesbian, because I was different. And it made me pretty angry.”

  “I feel angry, too,” said Kat.

  “But that shit, those people,” I said. “It’s not forever. I have a feeling that a lot of those people — you know the kind — I have a feeling they’re listening to my music now and they’re feeling like they relate or whatever. When, in reality, it’s meant to speak to people like you.”

  “That makes me feel really good,” she said.

  “Good,” I said with a smile, putting my hand on Kat’s shoulder. “I gotta go, okay? But I appreciate you stopping me and telling me your story. Just know that you and I, we’re on the same team.”

  “Thanks Layla,” she said. “It means a lot to me.”

  “Take it easy, Kat,” I said. After giving her one last smile, I began my walk past her, eager to get out of the airport and back to the safety of my new home.

  “Layla?” I heard come from behind me. I turned and looked at Kat once more.

  “Yeah?”

  “You’re really important to me,” she said. “I want to be just like you.”

  When Kat said that, it struck something inside of me. It reminded me of the way I felt when Kurt Cobain died. I was about the same age as Kat was when it happened. I heard about it on the radio when I was driving to a college class in downtown Detroit. I had to pull my car over and cry. I made a decision right there that, no matter how weird or bad fame made me feel, no matter how fucked up my anxiety got or how inflated my ego became, I’d never make Kat feel the way I felt when one of my music heroes died.

  “Thank you,” I said, lifting a hand up at her. “Take care of yourself, Kat.”

  She smiled, and she nodded.

  As I walked through the automatic doors of the airport terminal and rushed my way toward an available cab, I knew that I still had a lot of work to do on myself. There were going to be immense pressures coming my way, and I was going to have to face some demons. But it couldn’t be any other way. This was my life, and I was living my dream, even though the way it was unfolding was hazy. I had a lot of responsibility to others, more responsibility than I’d ever felt before, and I wasn’t going to let any of them down.

  The world gets quiet between Christmas and New Year’s. There’s just something calm about that time. The stress of Christmas is over, but the wild party of New Year’s hasn’t yet begun. It’s the eye of the storm, and it’s… nice. You don’t feel like you have anything much to do. You can sit around and binge on TV if you want. You can just sleep all day. You can forget all the problems and worries of your every day life for that short week and just relax.

  Daisy and I sat together on her couch, a blanket draped over us, empty mugs sitting on the coffee table. The credits of a movie rolled on the television, and Daisy looked over to me and smiled.

  “What did you think?” she asked.

  “Sappy,” I said, smiling. “But it was okay.”

  “I’ll get you to enjoy romantic comedies one of these days.”

  Daisy lifted the blanket off of her and stood up. She was dressed in fleece pants, the band at the waist rolled over once to tighten it, exposing the top of her underwear. She had on a tank top, braless underneath, her breasts bobbing as she moved. Walking over to the TV, Daisy leaned down and ejected the disc from her DVD player.

  “What’s next?” I said.

  “It’s not too early for wine, is it?” she replied, her eyes sparkling with delight.

  “You’re ridiculous.”

  “I know,” said Daisy, putting her hand on her hip and grinning.

  “Pour me a glass,” I said.

  Daisy squealed, applauded my decision, and jogged toward the kitchen. I tossed the blanket off of me and followed.

  Sitting on one of the barstools at Daisy’s counter, I looked down into my wine glass thoughtfully as Daisy delicately cut slices of cheese on a small bamboo cutting board. She spread out some club crackers and then positioned the makeshift cheese plate between us, eagerly reaching out and taking a piece of cheese and biting into it.

  “I didn’t tell you
this,” I said, finally lifting my glass up and taking a sip. “But at Christmas, my cousin asked me for money.”

  “Really?” said Daisy, making a face like she smelled something bad. “That sucks.”

  “I know that you come from a pretty well-off family,” I said. “But not me. A lot of my family is broke.”

  “What did your cousin need it for?” she asked.

  “He got a DUI,” I said. “Court costs, lawyer. That whole thing.”

  “Jeez,” she said, drinking from her glass. “You going to give it to him?”

  “Yes,” I said solemnly. “I don’t feel I have any other choice.”

  “That’s a slippery slope,” she said.

  “I know.”

  “Just be careful,” said Daisy. “This will happen more often and you’ve got to protect yourself. Once people realize you’ve got a little money, everybody starts lining up.”

  “Is it bad that I feel even more alienated from them?” I asked. “I just feel like I’m losing my grip on reality a bit. My head’s all fuzzy,” I said, motioning around my head with my hand. “All I’ve really wanted was to be left alone, and now… now I’m getting more attention than ever.”

  Daisy laughed softly and shook her head.

  “C’mon,” she said. “You’re really going to have to get over this. I know that sounds harsh, but think about what’s in store for you. You know what we’re doing at the label in support of you.”

  “I heard something at that meeting a few weeks ago,” I said. “When we were on the way out and you all were talking with Mr. Rams.”

  “What did you hear?”

  “He said something like, ‘it’s all for her,’” I said. “For me, I assume.”

  “Well, yeah,” Daisy admitted, taking another sip of wine. “Can you blame him?”

  “I don’t know what that means.”

  “Municipal loves you, Layla,” said Daisy honestly. “And we think you’re going to be a star. I think you have to accept that, for both the good and the bad it may bring.”