She-Rox: A Rock & Roll Novel (5 page)

Bruno laughed under his breath.

“So, I take it you’re not a fan,” Slade commented.

“Well, it’s not that I’m not a fan, it’s just— it’s more like . . . you’ve got this big hit, right?”

“Oh, so you’ve heard it.”

“Of course, I don’t live under a rock, but here’s the thing . . . your guitar lead . . . you start off fine, but when you get towards the climax of your lead,
you play a blues scale when you could have easily played Hindu minor that would’ve totally killed it. But instead, you go all Chuck Berry on me. I mean the name of the song is ‘Voodoo Love Slave’, not ‘Bluesy Love Slave’.
I’m just dying for you to use diminished tones. It would have sounded perfect, but you don’t, so it’s like . . . it’s like, well, you didn’t go
all
the way.” She looked Slade in the eye, shrugged her shoulders and said, “You know what I mean?”

“Hindu minor?” Slade asked.

“Yeah, you know.”

“You better be careful around this one,” warned Taz, “She came in here laying tracks like nothing.”

“Anyway, back to the matter of my shirt. Do you want the strings, or what?” Eddie asked.

Slade told Bruno, “Well, give the lady what she wants. Go grab one of my shirts out of the car for yourself, bring it back and then, I would appreciate it if you’d finish tearing down her keyboards and loading them up for her.”

Eddie stammered, “Oh, no, no that won’t be necessary. I can do it.”

“Let him do it,” Slade commanded, and then stepping closer, he softly said, “It’s the least I can do for you, and I need the strings.” He snatched them out of her hand.

Bruno came back wearing one of Slade’s concert t-shirts and handed Eddie the Pink Floyd. “Thanks, Bruno,” Slade said. “I owe you one.”

“You got that right,” he replied.

Eddie sat on the couch, seeing how Slade had ordered his roadies to do her work. Slade followed suit. He looked at her and said, “I’ve been written up and critiqued in all kinds of magazines, but
my
critics have always put in a by line.”

Her response came out in a rush. “Oh, I know, I’m sorry, it’s a horrible habit. I just open my big mouth when it comes to music and it falls out. I never stop to think if maybe I’m being cruel or overly critical or what.”

“No, no, you misunderstand me. I’m trying to tell you that I don’t know your name. We haven’t been introduced.”

“
Oh.
Esther, but I go by Eddie.”

“Esther, huh?” he said, rubbing his chin. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Slade. So, Miss Esther, what are you doing here, in Los Angeles?”

“I’m enrolled at Musicians’ Institute.”

“Ah, so that’s why you’re so smart. I take it that you’re doing the keyboard program then?”

“I couldn’t make up my mind between guitar and keyboard, so I’m doing both.”

“You play guitar as well?”

“If I didn’t, you wouldn’t have the strings, but I’ve only been playing guitar seriously for about three years—piano I’ve played for thirteen.”

“Wow, you must have started when you were really young. How old are you?”

Trying to sound like a woman of the world, she reported, “Almost seventeen.”

“So, you’re
sixteen,
then
.
Wow, sixteen and already doing studio gigs, that’s impressive. I wasn’t near that good when I was sixteen, wow. And here I am thinking I’ve got it down, getting an American contract when I was twenty-one.”

“Oh, but, you see, I
don’t
have a deal. That’s why I came here. I mean, come on, you’re
Slade McAllister
, and I’m nobody, so believe me, you’re the big winner here.”

“
Oh, no,
don’t ever take away from yourself what you have, what you’ve accomplished. What you told me earlier—I couldn’t have done that, I mean, wow.” Slade shook his head quickly, as if he was getting a chill down his back.

Eddie didn’t like the way the conversation was heading and she especially didn’t like the way he kept saying, ‘Wow.’ It contained a hint of patronizing disdain. He wasn’t working in a convalescent kitchen to make ends meet.

It had been a mistake to open her big mouth and give him an honest assessment of his recorded material, but, there it was. She was stuck. It really was a bad habit of hers, coming across like Simon Cowell, and quite honestly, her intention wasn’t to put a chink in Slade’s rock & roll armor. She got off the couch and said, “Hey, thanks a lot for everything. It was really nice of Bruno to haul my stuff out, and good luck with everything. It was nice meeting you, Mr. McAllister.”

“Mr. McAllister?”

“It’s getting late and I’ve got school tomorrow morning and then I’ve got to go to work so I can pay my bills in the real world. Maybe I’ll see you ‘round the studio again sometime, and I’m glad I could help you out with the strings.”

“Sure.”

Eddie walked out to her van. She thanked Bruno and friends as they took another smoke break in the parking lot. She slammed the van door and asked herself, “
Did I just insult Slade McAllister? Am I really that stupid?”

It was after 1:00 a.m. when she got home. Vince was standing in the doorway, getting ready to leave when he said, “Oh, before, I forget, Friday afternoon you girls have a photo shoot—new member, new photos. But Eddie, you’re going to have to meet with Daphne the day before that, so call her to schedule a fitting.”

“Thursday fitting, Friday photo shoot, got it.”

She ran down the steps to her bedroom and flipped open her phone to call T.J.

“Eddie,” T.J. answered, “What are you doing calling me so late? Is everything okay?”

“I’m fine, everything’s great, but I’ve
got
to tell you something.”

She spilled the entire botched story. “Remember when you made me that black outfit for my gig at ‘Club Cathedral’? I’m sending you this t-shirt. Do your magic so it fits.”

“Enough about the stupid shirt, already—let’s get down to basics. Did Slade ask for your number? What were you wearing?”

“No, he didn’t ask me for my number. I just met the guy and who cares what I was wearing. I was in a dark studio—”

“Oh Eddie, were you a mess?”

“How was I supposed to know he was going to be there?”

“Have I taught you nothing? I swear I’ve never met somebody so hell-bent on looking like white trash. You’re in Hollywood. You should be dressing like you already have four platinum CD’s and you’re waiting for the limo to pick you up!”

“Well, I don’t happen to have any platinum CD’s at the moment and I drive a beat up van.” Eddie sighed heavily. Slade and his connections were priceless.

“Next time, Eddie, please dress appropriately. Now get with the program, will you?” T.J. wondered, “Still working that sucky job at the diner?”

“It’s not a diner, it's a retirement community, and yes.”

“You must want this music thing pretty bad. I so cannot picture you with a hairnet on, Eddie. That is just too funny.”

The laughter was met with silence.

“Send me the shirt. I’m going back to sleep,” T.J. said, “I miss you.”

Eddie slogged in the door from work, exhausted.

“Eddie, is that you?” Raven asked.

“It’s me,” she yawned. “All I want right now is a hot shower and bed.”

“Get in here,” Raven summoned, “You have to see this.”

“See what?”

“This,” she said, pointing to a huge bouquet of roses on the counter.

“Wow. Who sent you roses?”

“Nobody did. They’re for you.”

“Shut up.”

“Seriously, there’s a card here with your name on it, see?” She held up a white envelope and in small letters was printed, “ESTHER.”

“When did they come?”

“Some time during the late afternoon. I went to the door and this delivery guy asked me to sign for them. Sorry, but I didn’t tip him a thing.” Still holding the card in her hand, Raven urged, “Now, would you
please
open this up? I have been holding myself back since four o’clock.”

Hoping it was from Kai, the card read: ‘Thanks again for the strings, Slade.’ Eddie frowned and stuffed the card back into its envelope.

“So, who are they from?”

“
Nobody,
” Eddie snapped and walking out of the kitchen, she went downstairs to her room.

Raven picked up the card and followed her. “What’s the big deal anyway, they’re just flowers. Do you have a secret admirer you’re keeping from the rest of us? C’mon Eddie, I’m
dying here!”

“Leave me alone.”

“Who is Slade?” There was still no reply. “What could possibly be so bad?” she asked, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

“I feel like a total idiot.”

“Is this Slade like an old boyfriend or something?” Eddie shook her head. “But it
is
someone you know, right?”

“Not really.”

“Is it a groupie? We get a lot weirder things than flowers from groupies. The crap they throw up on the stage—”

“It’s not from a groupie.”

“Did you just meet this person?”

“You might say that.”

“Like last night at the recording studio?”

Eddie winced.

“So, you met someone by the name of Slade at a recording studio last night and he sent flowers? Hmm, who goes to recording studios? Musicians go to recording studios, plus he thanked you for strings. Oh, I know, it’s someone from school!”

“It’s nobody from school.”

“But I’m getting closer, right?”

“Not really.”

“Slade, Slade,” she whispered. “Is this person famous? I mean, it’s not like its Slade McAllister or somebody like that, right?”

Eddie fell back onto the bed, pulling a pillow over her head.

“
Eddie, you got flowers from Slade McAllister?!
”

Pulling the pillow away from her face, she whimpered, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but you have to.”

She revealed the story, again, only after telling Raven, she didn’t flinch, like with T.J. Raven responded, “It’s a minor bump in the road of a long career. Has he called you?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“After a guy sends you flowers, either you’re suppose to call and thank him, or he calls you to see if you got them.”

“I don’t happen to
have
Slade’s number.”

Raven grabbed Eddie’s handbag and dumped its entire contents out on the floor looking for the phone. She grabbed it, hit the button for the LED to light up and there it was, two missed calls.’ “Eddie, do you know this number?”

“No.”

“Call him.”

“
I don’t know if it’s him,
” she hissed.

“So call back whoever it is.”

“Raven, down girl,” Eddie retorted, hitting the send button.

“Hello?” It was a male voice.

“Hi, I’m returning a call. This is Eddie.”

“Esther, you called me back. I was beginning to think you were mad at me.” It was Slade.

“The flowers—they’re unbelievable. You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I did,” Slade replied, “They’re a bit archaic, but what else does one do in these situations?” There was a long pause. “You know, I kept thinking about what you said last night, you know, about my lead and all that.”

“Slade, I’m so sorry. I’ve wanted to apologize to you ever since I drove off the lot last night. I feel just awful.”

“Good, I’m glad to hear that we’ve
both
behaved badly.”

“You’ve proven to be the bigger man. Is there anything I can do in return, you know . . . show my utter and complete mortification?”

“I thought you’d never ask. In fact, there is a little something. We’re all here again tonight at Sunset—come ‘round.”

“Ah, things are crazy right now. I have school in the morning, then work, and a fitting for a photo shoot on Friday. If I miss the fitting, I’ll get it big time from management.”

“Ah, management, they got a black belt in spoiling the fun, eh? There’s been a time or two when I had to tell them to cram it up their suit and tie arse. What’s the shoot for?”

“My band.”

“Why, Esther, you naughty girl, you didn’t tell me you were playing in a band. What’s the name of your band?”

“The Katz,” she laughed. “Somebody’s magic eight ball wasn’t working that day.”

“These Katz, are they all female?”

“They are.”