Screaming Divas (22 page)

He invited them inside for a beer, then gave them the grand tour—the dressing room (which they'd have to share), bathroom, phone booth, the hall of fame. The latter was a dark corridor, walls signed on both sides by various visiting artists. “I'd be honored,” Leo said, “if you'd all leave your mark.”

Trudy had already decided that she was going to sign right next to Patti Smith's autograph.

After they'd unloaded their equipment with the help of a couple of Kit Kat employees, set up, and done a sound check, both bands ran through a couple of songs. By then it was time for dinner.

Leo took them to a Thai restaurant in downtown DC. “One of my friends saw your show down in Atlanta,” Leo told Noel. “He said you were awesome.”

“Wait'll you hear us,” Trudy couldn't help interrupting. “Your ears will have orgasms.”

Leo laughed and gave Trudy a long look. He was checking her out. Weighing his chances. Well, he could dream as long as he wanted, but she belonged to Noel. She flipped her hair back and lit a cigarette.

By the time they got back to the club, they were all a little buzzed on East Asian beer. It was just after dusk. The sky was purple and bruised. Cars had already started filling the parking lot.

Ligeia was going to play in their street clothes, so the Divas had the dressing room to themselves for a while. Trudy slipped away to check out the stage, then reported back. “There're already people camped out in front of the stage,” she said. “Must be forty or fifty in the club right now.”

Leo had predicted that the place would be jam-packed. The regulars turned out like clockwork on a Friday night. Plus, people had heard about Ligeia. Even this far up the coast, they were getting airplay on college radio.

Harumi was sitting on a stool against the cinderblock wall, thumbing through an old copy of
Melody Maker
. Esther, afloat in her ethnic dress, was ratting out her hair with a brush. And Cassie was half-naked, standing there in her black lace bra and panties, looking like some demented Victoria's Secret model. For a second Trudy wondered if she was planning on going out like that, but then she dipped down and pulled a dress out of her zip-top duffel bag. And what a dress it was. Trudy watched while she slithered into gold lamé. It was tight and dazzling and it would catch all the light. No one would be able to look at anything else.

Trudy felt a flicker of jealousy, but she quickly extinguished it. Sure, Cassie looked like a goddess, but what was good for her was good for the band. They were all in this together. Anyway, it wasn't about the clothes; it was about the music. Tonight they would be their most sensational selves. They'd ignite those Yankees with their fire.

Esther was sitting on a vinyl sofa against the wall, eyes closed, breathing in through her nose and exhaling through her mouth. Some kind of meditation thing. Trudy plopped down next to her.

A few minutes later, Ligeia streamed into the room, Leo close behind. “Whenever you're ready,” he said. “Pick your moment.”

Trudy patted the space between her and Esther, but Noel ignored her. “Nice dress,” he said to Cassie.

“How's the crowd?” Trudy asked, meaning to bring the topic back to business. “Is it filling up?”

She'd directed the question to Noel, but Alan answered. “Respectable,” he said. “Nothing like what we had in Atlanta, but not bad, really.”

And then Alan's eyes were on Cassie, too, and he was moving to her side, trying to get her attention.

Gretchen, the new bass player, was seemingly oblivious. She yawned widely and looked around for a place to sit.

Trudy didn't know much about Gretchen. She was tall and slender and wore boys' clothes—jeans and T-shirts that were too small, rising above her bellybutton. Her hair was fine and limp and cut chin-length.

On the van, all the way from Columbia, Trudy had only heard her voice once or twice. Whenever she'd looked back, Gretchen had been reading or napping. The guys talked about her musical expertise, but Trudy knew that no one in that town could play better than Harumi.

The noise was louder now. Maybe there were more people, maybe they were just drunker, but the babble of voices was almost drowning out the piped-in music. The natives are getting restless, Trudy thought.

She got up from the sofa, planted her fists on her hips, and said, “Showtime, girls.”

Esther's eyes popped open in panic. Harumi slid down from her stool and tossed the magazine she'd been reading on a low table. Cassie stretched cat-like toward the ceiling, then prowled toward the exit.

“Break a leg,” Noel said, sinking into the now-vacant sofa.

Trudy bent and kissed him full on the mouth. “Y'all can eat our dust, baby.”

He laughed.

The four Divas looked at each other in turn, then pushed through the door and followed the corridor to the stage.

As soon as they appeared, the audience started to amass around the platform, like ants to a crumb. They were focused, ready, and Screaming Divas would give them everything they hoped for. Trudy was sure of it.

As they were taking up their instruments, Leo came to the front mic. He waited for a cue, then announced, “Let's welcome tonight's opening band, all the way from Columbia, South Carolina: Screaming Divas!”

They opened with the dissonant chords of “Lady Lazarus Rises Again,” and the sea of heads began to bob and bounce.

Trudy hurled herself into the song—“
This is number one! I did it with a gun!
”—flailing and jerking till sweat dripped from her hairline. Bodies writhed and danced. Fists punched the air. Hoots followed. And that was only the first number.

Trudy fed on the energy, becoming wilder and wilder as the set went on. She jumped, did cartwheels, even dove into the mosh pit and body-surfed from stranger to stranger.

She thought that they could keep playing forever, but then her voice started to rust. Her throat was raw by the time they reached the one hundred minute mark.

“Hey,” she tossed over her shoulder. “Why don't we do Esther's song?” They'd only practiced it a few times, but this seemed like the perfect place to try it out. The crowd was theirs. They could do no wrong at this point. She handed the mic to Cassie. “Want to sing?”

Trudy stepped back and let Cassie into the spotlight.

“
Last night I had the craziest dream / you were waltzing in a moonbeam.
” Her voice trembled at first, shimmery like her dress.

The crowd became quiet, still, as if they were scared for her, waiting to catch her if she fell. But as the song progressed, her voice became louder and stronger, and the silence became like worship.

“
We share the same blood / We're sisters under the skin.
” As she belted out the chorus, Trudy had this strange desire to kiss her. She was magnificent.

At the end, Cassie drooped on the stage, as if she were so precious and rare, that she was only meant to sing that one song, and to sing it perfectly. Whistles and hoots came from the deepest recesses of the hall. And then—surprise, surprise—Noel jumped out onto the stage. He leaned in next to Trudy to help sing “Wicked Ways,” one of their newer songs. Ligeia was ready to take over and Trudy was tired, so she gave in. After a final impromptu bass solo from Harumi, and a repeat of the chorus, Trudy shouted, “Thank you.” The Divas deserted the spotlight.

Backstage, still panting, Trudy hugged them all. Huddled in solidarity, they mingled girl sweat and shampoo scents. “We were jamming,” she said. “We were the best we've ever been.” She stood back and looked into their glowing faces. She could tell that adrenaline was gushing through their veins. “I'm proud of you. All of you.”

There was a little tap on the door. Leo stuck his head in. “A smash success,” he said. “Here. Compliments of the house.” He brought in a cooler of beer and a plate of nachos, the cheese all gooey and warm.

Trudy grabbed a can of beer and held it over her head, letting the condensation dribble onto her upturned face. “I'm so happy,” she said. She closed her eyes and rolled the can over her chest.

Then she heard the music start up—the deep thrum of Gretchen's bass, John's guitar, Noel's brooding voice. She could hear Alan bashing on the drums and the wail of the crowd as they recognized the band's first song from college radio. Even though she'd been ready to collapse on that cheap vinyl sofa a few seconds before, the music charged her up again. “I'm going to go out there and dance,” she said. She waited a second and, when no one made a move to follow, pushed through the door and into the hall.

Trudy stood at the back long enough to down her beer, then began squirming through the throng. She shoved elbows and hips aside as she made her way to the front. A couple of people swore at her, but she didn't care. By the end of the second song, she was close enough to spit onto the stage. She could look right into Noel's eyes. If she reached out, she could catch drops of his sweat on her palm. There, so close to the speakers, she could feel Noel's voice reverberating on her bones.

As he sang, he wrapped his arms around his shoulders. He bent over, leaning heavily on his knees, singing with such pain that it made Trudy want to jump up there and comfort him. But then he looked up at the audience and his eyes were demonic. He hated them all. And his music had possessed them.

For a split second, she envied his crowd control. She had to work so hard, sweating her ass off, but he just stood there and they were his. The feeling passed quickly. He's going to be mine, she thought. All mine. And they were both going to be famous.

Trudy was as disappointed as the rest of them when the band left the stage for the final time. The lights came on overhead and suddenly the place was filled with ghouls. The makeup that had looked so cool in the dark—the slashes of rouge and thick black eyeliner—looked hideous in the light. Party's over, Trudy thought. It was way past midnight. They'd have a few beers with ol' Leo, then sleep all the way home in the van.

Trudy found Harumi and Esther on stools at the back. “Where's Cassie?” she asked.

A look passed between them.

Trudy raised her eyebrows, but no one said anything.

The club was clearing out quickly. Alan appeared, trailed by Gretchen. The two of them slumped down against the wall. Next John showed up, his shirt unbuttoned, revealing a line of fuzz. “We've got to make a tape soon,” he said, cracking his knuckles. “We could make lots of money. These people loved us. We could have had them eating off of our butts.”

“They loved us, too,” Trudy said, cocking her hip. “Pretty soon you'll be opening for us.”

John rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right.”

Harumi yawned widely. “I think I'm going to crawl into the van and sleep,” she said.

“Me, too.” Esther slid off her stool.

“What's wrong with y'all? Don't you want to celebrate?”

“We did already,” Harumi said. “Backstage. Where were you?”

How could they be such deadbeats? They were on the verge of big time success and all they wanted to do was snooze. This was a time for serious partying.

“Where's Leo?” she asked.

John shrugged. “I have no idea. But he better show up soon because we've got to get paid.”

Trudy stormed off down the corridor. The dressing room door was locked. She rattled the knob, then pounded on the door. “Who's in there?”

Silence. And then there was a giggle. Cassie. Who was she in there with? Leo? He'd been seriously checking her out all evening. Well, good for her. She needed to get away from Adam, anyhow. “C'mon. Open up.”

Trudy pressed her ear against the door. She could hear grunts and the squeak of vinyl. A rhythmic beat. Then a high-pitched scream. Cassie was screwing Leo. Trudy smirked and leaned against the opposite wall to wait.

A few minutes later, she heard footsteps, the slip of the bolt, and the door swung open. She froze.

“What?” Noel asked. He stood there in his jeans with the zipper open. Behind him, Cassie was sprawled nude over the sofa. She was still giggling.

Trudy felt as if some beast was tearing out her stomach. She could feel bile rising in the back of her throat and then the burn of tears. No, damn it. She wasn't going to cry. She bit her lip so hard she drew blood. Trudy Sin didn't cry. She was a warrior.

She flew at Noel first, clawing at his bare chest and face. Her fingernails ripped his cheek, trailing a ribbon of blood. Noel grabbed at her, trying to catch her wild hands, but she was too quick for him. She slithered out of his grasp and went for Cassie.

“How could you?” she yelled. “I thought you were my friend!” She grabbed a fistful of blonde hair and yanked. “You can walk home for all I care 'cause you're not riding back with me. You're out of my life.”

She reached for Cassie's throat, but then Noel was behind her, latching his elbow around her neck.

“Knock it off,” he said in her ear. “I never promised you anything, Trudy.”

No, he hadn't, but Cassie had. Maybe not in words, but in spirit. Trudy had considered her a sister, a soulmate. Now she was just a traitor.

When all was said and done, Cassie wasn't sure why she had done it with Noel. It had been a whim, a good idea at the time.

On the way to DC, when he'd dropped into the seat beside her, she had been surprised. They'd never really talked before.

“You should try to sing more often,” Noel whispered to her, his lips brushing her earlobes. “Just tell Trudy what you want. Stand up for your rights.”

Cassie laughed. “Maybe I should just quit and form my own band.”

Noel had looked at her for a moment in total seriousness. “Maybe you should.”

She knew that he was serious about music, that he was planning on making Ligeia his whole life. He told her that he had dropped out of college after one semester. He'd been working at a print shop to make ends meet. He lived poorly, but he had enough money for new guitar strings. Maybe this recording that they were going to make would change things. Maybe he'd move to Atlanta, or even L.A.