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Spirit of Music

@caffeinechick and I are doing an art trade, so I decided to write about this amazing pic of Danielle she did from @ectopuppy‘s screamo au. Sorry it took so long!

Paulina and Star barged into Valerie’s hotel room together, walking side by side in that perfect synchronous strut they’d all mastered after ten grueling years of of talent shows, rehearsals, concerts, and music videos.

Valerie pretended to keep reading her dogeared copy of Zami as her bandmates stopped at the foot of her bed and crossed their arms in unison.

Adjoining rooms, Valerie reflected, had been a bad idea.

“We’re going out.” Paulina said. Next to her, Star nodded.

Valerie turned a page. “Okay, but you two are going to disappoint about half of our fanbase.”

Star’s face turned a shade of red and she giggled self-consciously as though everyone in the room wasn’t fully aware of all the band fanart she had hoarded on her phone.

“You know what I mean, Val,” Paulina scolded her.“The three of us need to go out tonight.”

“’lina,” Valerie sighed, trying to be patient. “I’m tired. We’ve been working on the video all week-”

“Which is why we need to hit some clubs and blow off some steam!” Paulina said.

“Yeah!” Star piped up. “We’ve been working hard and deserve a break!”

“A break,” Valerie repeated, her tone plainly doubting that the three of them drinking and dancing their way through half the city until three in the morning counted as relaxing.

And they would definitely pay for it when they had to arrive on set a few hours later, bone-tired and expected to spend ten hours on more takes of their new music video with the dark circles under the eyes brushed over with heavy mascara.

“How about we wait until next week?” Valerie suggested. “The video will be done, and we can go out properly to celebrate.”

She saw it coming too soon to stop it: the mischievous glimmer in Star’s eyes. The little quirk at the corner of Paulina’s lips right before she said, “I think we should decide this as a band.”

Dammit.

It was absolutely ridiculous that they still did it- honoring some pact they’d made back at the very start when they’d been bright, hopeful, prepubescent contestants on TV trying to Make It Big.

It had all been Star’s idea. They’d been old enough to know that some of their favorite bands had imploded in ways that had nothing to do with bad music. The Pact was about putting the Band first, about keeping the peace, about not letting their careers kill their friendship.

Somehow it stayed alive, growing up alongside with the band like an invisible mascot that only they knew about. A childish pact slowly evolving from a tradition to inviolate dogma. The One Rule. No matter what happened, they still honored it because when you got right down to it, the only people on Earth that understood what they went through every day was their bandmates. It was a sisterhood that weathered skeevy Producers, intrusive fans, the manhandling and makeup and wardrobes, exhaustive tours and photoshoots. Getting blisters from dancing and not being able to talk for days because your vocal chords were so shot.

If the band voted for it, you did it. End of story. Valerie couldn’t even be mad- she’d done her fair share of abusing the vote from time to time. Paulina was just better at it.

They beamed at her when Valerie surrendered and shut her book. “Okay, okay, fine. What did you have in mind?”

Valerie’s wardrobe is neatly divided into lazy sweats that will never be seen outside her room and designer clothes she could wear to a covershoot. A world with TMZ tolerated nothing less.

By necessity, they’d all brought half a boutique’s worth of clothes with them for the duration of their hotel stay while they worked on the new music video. Star and Valerie combed through her closet together and agreed on a sharp crimson dress with a knee-length hem and a daring slash across her chest. The shoulders are covered too much for Star’s taste, but it leaves her arms bare to accentuate her “Michelle Obama forearms,” which they giggled over.

It felt good to goof off a little. Maybe a night off wasn’t a bad idea after all.

Valerie had her makeup down to a science but her frizzy hair was especially uncooperative- as though it was a last holdout purposely sabotaging their night out.

Valerie dragged her brush mercilessly through her roots. The vote was cast, hair- get it line and suck it up.

It took well over an hour for them to get ready- which was fine, Paulina explained, because most clubs don’t really get doing until later in the night, anyway.

When they were finally ready to go, Mr. White- their head of security- politely knocked on their door and met them in the hall with the rest of their detail, ready to escort them to the elevator straight down to the parking garage.

He’d been with them for years. Polite, professional and discreet. He never talked much, but he’d been nice enough to teach Valerie a few self-defense moves, when she asked.

The outside of their big SUV is black and nondescript. Behind the tinted windows, the interior is lavish: heated leather seats, drink coolers, a kickass sound system. Mr. White and the driver sat up front like a pair of unfazed parents while they plugged in their party playlist, gorged on snacks, and took selfies.

It was so cliche but seeing the end result- the three of them made up, cheeks smushed together to fit into frame and smiling like they were normal girls felt...nice. Valerie had learned to smile on command for the cameras, she’d almost forgotten what a real, genuine, happy smile looked like on her own face.

Star passed her a candy bar. Their manager would probably have a fit about the calories. Valerie devoured it and handed off what was left of her soda to Paulina. They turn up the music louder and sang along carelessly because the song wasn’t theirs.

At the first club, the SUV slowed past a line of ladies in short, gorgeous dresses and guys with agonizingly simple jeans and button-downs. They’d frequented there plenty of times; it might as well have been the same people holding the exact same places in line, unmoved since their last visit.

But it was the owner, not a clipboard-wielding gatekeeper, that waited at the curb to meet them as they arrived. Apparently Paulina had sent word ahead to be ready for them. They greeted each other with pecks on the cheek and exchanged a few words in Spanish that Valerie could follow the plot of, if not the details.

She kept her eyes straight ahead but still felt the wall of cellphones rise among the people in line. A chorus of admiration, shouts, calls for her attention. The first little droplets on Twitter and Facebook were being uploaded at that very moment, a trickle that would break into a flood before long.

There was a reason the owner saw to them personally. One good picture of them at his door and the line to get into his club triples.

Star linked arms with her and waved at them all. She was always so much better at this part than her; never getting stuck in a quagmire of bad publicity like Valerie with her temper or Paulina for her vicious streak. Everybody loved Star.

Through the door, the club is vibrant and buzzing. Technicolor searchlights sweep over the dancefloor- crowded and energized, but not even close to being full. They’re guided to a set of stairs guarded by a pair of bouncers up to the VIP balcony, where they can look out over it all and watch; the whole place was very much their scene- fitting nicely into the cultural niche their band occupied. The latest pop with a dash of R&B for spice.

A waitress in a short skirt and a black blouse with the club’s logo brought up their usual drinks on a neon tray.

“A toast,” Paulina held up her margarita. “To well-deserved breaks!”

“Yeah!” Star clinked glasses enthusiastically, spilling some of her drink over.

“To friends that know when you need one,” Valerie added. Star whooped and toasted again, half of her fruity drink gone before she’d even taken a sip.

The server that kept bringing them drinks had a familiar face, even if Valerie didn't know her name. Up on that balcony, watching the floor of people bump and grind to remixes of their music, they were Queens up on High, surveying their domain.

Still, if Valerie was secretly hoping that going out would help her forget herself, she was also secretly disappointed.

There were the usual regulars in the VIP section too, as unchanged as the people outside had been, if in more expensive clothes. They gravitated towards the three of them - overly familiar, with an air of entitlement, as though they had a right Star, Paulina, and Valerie’s time.

Some guy Valerie had never met before in her life (then again, maybe she had met him before but just didn’t remember) sat down on the plush cushion next to her like they were old pals and started talking animately. Most of what he was saying was drowned out by the music and Valerie clogging her ears with sips of tequila.

Best thing about clubs was it was always pretty easy to not talk to people, if you didn’t want to.

He kept going on and on, completely undeterred by the noise, or Valerie’s monosyllabic responses. Best she could piece together, he was some kind of producer? At the very least, he was some rich guy that had enough meek, struggling musicians eating out of his hand that he considered himself an expert at what made good music. That is, what made for bestselling music, which- in Valerie’s experience- were two completely different things.

Catching Mr. White’s eye, she sent him a pleading look. He raised an eyebrow at her predicament and shrugged. Paparazzi and aggressive fans he could deal with- annoying conversations did not qualify.

So Valerie worked on her margarita and guessed appropriate times to nod whenever the guy made some ‘insightful’ observation about the state of the CD industry (as if people weren’t carrying around all their music in their phones, these days), and tuned him out by focusing on the club’s music. Hmm...sounded like a clever remix or a little original piece the DJ snuck in? She found herself mentally dissecting it instead of just enjoying it. If she was even going to try and have a good time, she’d need a few more drinks to turn off the chattering little composer in her brain and enjoy the music for its own sake.

She made it a point to not pull out her phone, otherwise she’d be checking the clock constantly, frustrated that taking it out of her purse five times a minute wouldn’t magically make time go by faster. Much easier to just measure the night in drinks. Around polishing off her third, Paulina and Star were huddled close together, alternating between texting and hushed discussion. Never a good sign.

The light from Paulina’s phone painted peculiar shadows on her cheekbones like another layer makeup. Valerie could practically see the calculations running under her furrowed brow. Tapping a few more messages out, Paulina put her phone away and walked up to Mr. White. He leaned down politely at let her talk into his ear. Pressed against her thigh, Valerie felt her purse buzz. She fished out her phone and found a message for Paulina- who was already headed down the stairs with Star.

‘This is boring. Let’s hit another scene (2 To 1)’

Not even given a chance to be formerly outvoted. She interrupted the guy between one of his breaths. “Sorry, I have to get going.”

It was probably the most words she’d spoken to him all night.

The first step out of the club was a shock of cool air that reminded Valerie of everywhere her dress didn’t cover, chilling the sweat on her bare skin.

There was an imagined pop in her ear from the loud, booming music thumping inside and taking a few steps into its sudden absence, like having waterlogged ears after climbing out of a pool.

Mr. White opened the SUV’s door for them and slammed it securely shut after they all climb in safely without being harassed by a single photographer. Must be their lucky night.

“So what was all that about?” Valerie asked as the SUV lurched away. “I thought you loved that place.”

“Exactly,” Paulina checked her makeup in a light-up compact. “We go there all the time. It’s getting little old.”

“Going there was your idea.”

“Yeah well, I like, got a better one, now.”

She held up her phone, absolutely crammed with texts. “My cousin Rosa talked to her best friend because his boyfriend heard it from his sister’s roommate that Danny’s in town and got spotted at this club down on the Elmerton border.”

Of course this ended up being about Danny. Valerie had a sneaking feeling the whole 'spontaneous' outing wasn't as spontaneous as either of them had made it out to be. “Wow. Sounds like a reliable chain of stalkers.”

“It’s not stalking. It’s networking.”

“I don’t know ‘lina. A club where Danny hangs out doesn’t sound like a place we’d really...fit in.”

“Oh, I totally got that covered,” Star piped up. “I know someone who could get us into the VIP area!”

“Not...really what I meant.”

“Look on the bright side, Val,” Paulina snapped her compact shut. “At least we won’t have to worry about paparazzi- no one would ever expect us to be there.”

So.

Paulina might have been onto something.

The queue of people smoking, texting, and chatting while they waited to get into a shabby-looking building was nothing but dark clothes, tattoos, piercings, lolita dresses, and heavy boots. The only splash of bright colors were their hair, a rainbow of dye-jobs and styles that ranged between androgynous to sharp as their spikey-armbands and collars.

The second they showed their faces they’d stick out, obviously not belonging.

“Oh! I think I see her!” Star hopped out before the SUV could fully roll to a stop.

Dressed rebelliously conventional in a sea of rebels, Paulina climbed out like it was any other club; chin high and walk confident as she strutted under the skeptical, even hostile gaze of the goths, rockers, and whatever the hell else they were on her way to join Star’s shrieking, huggy reunion. Valerie sighed and followed them, cursing the Band Vote Rule, cursing Paulina and Star, and because why the hell not, cursed Star’s friend a little too.

Star introduced the girl in a blood-red leather jacket and fishnets as Kitty. Her dreadlocks were neon-green and she was a little heavy with the eye-shadow, but she was practically giddy that Star had show up.

“Holy shit, I can’t believe you actually came! I’ve been trying to get you to come over to the dark side for like, ever!”

“Girl, do I have some surprises for you tonight.”

They linked arms and chattered away while Kitty guided them away from the crowd and down one of the side alleys. The smells alone told a disgusting story Valerie tried to ignore, and the lack of lighting would have been a serious safety hazard had it not been for Mr. White and the other bodyguards- at least it spared her from seeing what it was she was walking in.

“I blame you for this,” She hissed to Paulina.

“Worth it.”

Kitty stopped in front of a fire-door without a handle and pounded on it in a pattern that might have been deliberate or just pestering enough to get a guy with piercings and a sharp mohawk to open it for her.

“Thanks Spike!” Kitty brightly walked past with Star.

“The fuck, Kitty.” He demanded with a tone that wasn’t looking for an answer.

The door led to the back of the club, hallways of faded brick so narrow Valerie had to shoulder past the line to the bathroom and people making out.

It was about as similar to the last club as a poodle was to a pit bull- at one point they’d both started off the same species, but paths had diverged. There was music, there was booze, and there was dancing. Of a sort. After that all bets were off.

Whatever the building used to be- a warehouse, a factory maybe- the high ceiling and brick wall made for decent acoustics. Valerie didn’t recognize the band on stage but the song sounded familiar. A Nine Inch Nails cover band, probably warming up the stage this early in the night. They might as well had been the real deal, with the way the crowd was loving it. Two hundred cheering rockers crammed tight together jumped and jostled together like a tide dashing the shore of the stage. Cheering, raising up lighters and phones with lighter-apps on the screens.

The whole place was charged with a completely different energy. Different crowd, different music- no ritz and glamor, just exposed cables on the stage and bare brick. Everything just seemed more...raw here. Valerie was strangely fascinated.

One thing was for sure- no way anyone would expect the three of them to be there.

“Hurry up, Val!” Paulina jostled past her. The crowds were thick here, and Kitty’s green hair was the only landmark they had keeping them from getting lost.

Away from the stage, people congregated in close-knit circles with plastic cups they got from the small bar kiosk. The prices were written with glow-in-the-dark ink, and the fact that they were ridiculously overcharged didn’t seem to affect the lines any.

The whole place had the feel of something hastily built and temporary. Valerie didn’t even remember seeing a name at the front door.

It was no surprise that Valerie didn’t even realize Kitty had led them to what passed for a VIP area until a guy in a plain, official-looking black t-shirt appeared out of nowhere to block her path, thick arms crossed over the ‘Security’ on his chest. Mr. White protectively stepped in front of her and quietly stared the guy down.

Thankfully Kitty, Star still on her arm, intervened. “It’s cool, they’re with me.”

The man raised his eyebrows skeptically and glanced back behind him to the curved couches occupying the corner behind them. A lounging woman waved Kitty over. “There you are girl! I was wondering where you ran off to!”

Taking this as permission, the bouncer stepped aside. Valerie barely noticed, because she knew that woman. People always loved to copy the trademark electric blue hair, but no one had to guts to actually tattoo the two swirling black lines under their eyes like exotic tears.

Paulina had dragged them out to find her precious Danny Phantom, and they’d run straight into Ember freaking McLain, instead.

Completely unfazed, Kitty pulled Star up to Ember like she was showing her off. “Check out who I found at the front door!”

“Well, wouldya look at this!” Ember crowed. “It’s the Fanta Girls!”

A little wave of laughter swept across the cough- pretty much as far as the joke could go, with the music blasting. The only one who didn't laugh was sitting next to Ember, a huge man with a neon-green goatee and cut-off sleeves to show off the intricate circuitry and wire patterns tattooed on both arms. Skulker, Ember's grim bass-guitarist and occasional boytoy.

Ember chortled. “Heheheh. Sorry, ladies, couldn’t resist. Been sitting on that one for a while. Gotta say though, didn’t expect to see you three to be slumming it down here with the likes of us.”

Slumming it. As if hanging out with The Ember was anything but a dream come true. Valerie might have wound up in a completely different music genre, but back when she’d been an aspiring singer, Ember had been taking the charts by storm. She was a powerhouse of personality- talented, daring, scandalous in all the right ways to fill stadiums and rack up platinum records. She hadn't been as active in the scene for the past few years, but the influence she'd had on Valerie's music was lasting.

Her tight top and leather pants might have also contributed to a few other life-altering awakenings for Valerie, too.

Paulina flipped her hair back, playing it casual as if they met music legends all the time. (Well yeah, maybe they did, but none of them were Ember.) “We were in the neighborhood and heard that Danny was here. We go way back, and it’s just been forever, so I wanted to say hello and catch up.”

Not that running into you hasn’t already made my entire night, Valerie wanted to elbow Paulina and her silly crush aside.

“Oh? Three gorgeous divas wanting to see little ol’ me?”

The voice tugged their gaze to the girl sitting unnoticed at the far end of the couch, taking an impressive amount of space for how damn tiny she was. She was built like a drumstick; slender but made for heavy hitting. Her baggy black shorts and sleeveless tee hung loosely off her shoulders, so oversized that Valerie could plainly see the large tattoo that dominated most of her chest and plunged down her collar.

The piercing on her lip twinkled with her flirty grin. “I’m flattered.”

Paulina squinted at the girl, searched around the VIP area for some sign of her boy but finding none. She whipped around accusingly at Kitty. “I thought you said Danny was here!”

“She...is?” Kitty said, perplexed. Tattoo girl waved helpfully. “Yo.”

“That’s not Danny!”

“My collection of fake IDs totally agree with you,” tattoo girl said.

“’lina,” Valerie massaged the bridge of her nose. For being so borderline obsessed with Danny, you’d think Paulina would have recognized the one bandmate of his he was related to. “That’s Danielle. She’s Danny’s cousin.”

“His cousin?!”

“Don’t feel bad,” Danielle said. “It happens all the time.”

Paulina was not reassured. “But where’s the real Danny?”

“Don’t look at me, this isn’t my fault.” Star insisted.

“Maybe we should-” Kitty tried to placate her.

“Maybe you should have used some common sense!” Paulina snapped. “Why would you think I was interested in meeting Danny’s cousin?”

“S’fine they’re just feelings, they’ll heal,” Dani deadpanned.

Eyes locked intently, all three girls whipped out their phones and exchanged them, fingers scrolling down the glowing screens.

Kitty was the first to come to the conclusion: “I think we got screwed by autocorrect.”

Danielle grinned around her drink. Being mixed up with her cousin probably was a common occurrence for her. It was enough to give anyone a complex- but she just seemed entertained by the whole thing.

She also seemed to notice Valerie’s exasperation with the situation and winked at her.

Paulina swore colorfully in Spanish. “What a waste! I can’t believe we came here for nothing!”

Valerie glanced nervously at Ember, who was paying more attention to her scary tattooed boyfriend than Paulina. Sure there was no Danny but...there sure as hell wasn’t nothing.

Only since she didn’t have what she wanted, Paulina was perfectly content to write the whole place off- and everyone in it. “Star, could you tell them to bring the car back around? I’m messaging Raul to see if he can score us a table at-”

“What?” Star looked at Kitty, obviously torn. “But...like- we just got here!”

“Yeah, well like, there’s no point in staying around this dump now.”

“Don’t sully your pretty little ass longer than you have to,” Ember smiled at her viciously. Guess she’d been paying more attention than she’d let on; Valerie was instantly mortified. Paulina didn’t even have the shame to look even slightly embarrassed.

“But ‘Lina,” Star piped in. “Couldn’t we just stay for a little while longer?”

“What for? Val said that we didn’t belong here, right Val? What’s the point in sticking around?”

Paulina was clearly expecting her to vote on leaving- except there was Star, biting her lip, Kitty glaring at Paulina, Ember sprawled on her couch and enjoying the show-

And then there was Danielle, boots on the little table that was supposed to be for drinks, watching her with naked curiosity. Waiting to see what she would do.

“I think we should vote on it.” Valerie said. “Y’know. As a band.”

The smile Star gave her was bright and grateful. Paulina was frozen, thumb hovering over her phone mid-type.

Valerie felt a little petty, but damn was it worth it.

The lighting wasn’t doing it any favors, but the couch was more comfortable than Valerie would have guessed.

“So you guys literally have to do whatever if the other two vote ‘Yea’?”

“Yeah, that’s been the jist of it since...forever, really. ” Valerie explained.

“Seems like it’d be pretty easy to abuse. Just two people always double-teaming the odd girl out.” Danielle failed to hide the perverted little grin behind the rim of her glass.

Valerie rolled her eyes and ignored it. “Nah, we got a good thing going. If anyone tried to take it too far, it’d be easy enough for someone’s mind to get changed and turn the tables.” She nodded down towards Paulina sulking in a chair with her phone and a huge martini for company.

Star was down at one end of the couch drinking and chatting with Kitty. Next to her, Ember dominated the center of the couch like a plush, wide throne, both arms possessively resting on Skulker and Kitty’s shoulders.

The only room left was next to Dani and a quiet boy she’d introduced as Samuel. They could have been twins- both short and dark haired and so skinny as to be almost frail. He didn’t talk much, but Danielle had prodded him affectionately and explained he was a pianist- while purposely and inappropriately mispronouncing it.

Valerie should have guessed sooner. Those long, poised fingers peeking out from his long sleeves were made for keyboards.

It was way more obvious that Dani was a drummer. She was constantly tapping out a rhythm, matching the tempo with whatever song was playing- sometimes tapping her foot or drumming her restless fingers on the couch, on her own leg, or borrowing Samuel's.

As it got later, the bands changed and the music got louder and more unrecognizable, making it a necessity for Valerie to scoot closer and closer until even a simple conversation required them to be only inches apart. Dani didn’t seem to mind.

“If it's a really important decision,” Valerie kept going, “We don’t do it unless it’s unanimous. This one time, after we all turned eighteen, the media was getting super-creepy at our finally being legal- so then our Producer at the time decided to sit us down and gave us this...this...fucking lecture about how we have an ‘image’ to maintain as ‘proper women’ and ‘role-models’ and crap.”

“Proper women?” Dani snorted. “What does that even mean?”

“No wild parties, no tattoos or anything else ‘untoward’ like inappropriate photos or a tape getting leaked- as if we had any control over that.” It had been a few years ago, but talking about it out-loud to someone who wasn’t in the band reminded Valerie just how frustrating it had all been. “Anyway, that was when we all decided to vote about getting a Band Tattoo together to spite him- but Paulina wouldn’t go through with it. Did end up dumping that Producer’s ass the second his contract was up for renewal, though. That we all voted for, no problem.”

“Niiiice,” Dani said. “Guy sounded like a controlling asshole.”

Valerie shifted. Bumped into Dani a little. “Uh...actually. He was your dad.”

“Like I said: controlling asshole.”

They laughed and clinked their glasses together. Danielle made a toast to her Daddy issues.

“It’s too bad though,” Dani mused. “I think you’d look awesome with some ink.”

Valerie shook her head. “I wouldn’t even know what to get.”

“Figuring out what you want is half the fun! Especially on the first one. A lot of people just go through a binder of pre-drawn crap that a thousand other people have browsed though. Like, what’s the point of expressing yourself on your own body if it’s not you, y’know?”

“Yeah,” Valerie’s gaze was involuntarily drawn to the half of Danielle’s tattoo that was visible. “I uh...I see what you mean.”

She quickly tore her gaze but up, and met Dani's crooked, catty grin. Had...had she caught Valerie staring? Even if she had, it wasn’t like she’d done anything wrong. If Danielle had gone through the trouble of getting inked and showing it off, she wanted people to see it, right?

Valerie avoided eye contact and tried to wash down the lump forming in her throat with an application of whiskey-coke.

“You wanna see the whole thing?” Dani asked.

She almost choked. “What?!”

“It’s cool, check it out!” Danielle scooted to Valerie’s side and pulled at the loose neckline of her shirt. Valerie’s curiosity got the best of her. The club was dark, but she was close enough to able to make out the entire tattoo.

Two pairs of wings- one with bloodstained white feathers dripping rubies, the other an eerie, pestilent green- sprouting from an antique clock, its face marred by a long scar that split Dani’s chest down the middle. The tattoo didn’t so much hide the scar but blended it into a part of the art itself, something for her to wear proudly, instead of hide.

“Well, whaddya think? Awesome, right?” Dani said proudly. “Took three sessions to finish the whole thing.”

“It’s...nice.” Valerie leaned back, ears and cheeks hot from the closed-off pressure of the club. There was nothing under her shirt but inked skin and the jagged scar, like a zipper. Thankfully, she adjusted her shirt...but didn’t scoot back away.

“Okay! Bonus points: Do you know what the Latin means?”

The what? Oh. Oh right. There had been writing on the clock. It had been too dark too read and Valerie had been. Distracted. “Uh...no, sorry. I couldn’t really make it out.”

“Deficit Omne Quod Nasciture,” the dead tongue poured out smooth and musical from her pierced lips. “It means: ‘Everything that is born, dies.’”

“That’s...pretty morbid.”

Dani shrugged. “That’s pretty much life. Sooner or later, everyone has to realize that they and everyone they know are gonna die.”

“I try not the think about it.”

“Fair enough. But when you’re twelve and looking down the barrel of your second open-heart surgery, you kinda don’t have that option.”

God. To have to go through that so young. “Jesus, twelve? How do you even work through something like that?”

“I’m not gonna hit you with that ‘staying positive’ bullshit. You just gotta...I dunno. Make the most of things and deal. Fill the time and don’t give yourself a chance to dwell on something you can’t help. So I kept myself busy: played video games, read a lot of books. Listened to music a lot.”

“More like non-stop,” Samuel groaned. “It’s a good thing we had the same tastes or I’d have killed you before your lazy-ass heart.”

“You mean-” Valerie looked at Samuel, trying to put the jumbled pieces together. “You two were-”

“We were roommies,” Dani nudged him with her elbow. “I needed a new heart and scarecrow here needed a new brain.”

“Fuck you,” He replied immediately, no trace of venom in his voice. Probably an old in-joke, between them.

“Love you too,” Dani teased in a little sing-song. Samuel rolled his eyes.

A little desperate to steer the conversation away from hospitalized children and mortality, Valerie said, “So what kind of music did you listen to?”

Valerie wasn't sure what was more impressive: just how much music Dani had binged in her hospital room, or her being able to recite them all from memory- with the occasional addition from Samuel. She talked about about how the music helped her work through those tricky emotions that wiggle out of the narrow, inadequate boxes words failed. How it cheered her up on the hard days, or- even more important- how the right album helped her vent out all the dark emotions she'd piled up.

Valerie nodded avidly. Bolstered by her drink and the infectious, steady bass of the band playing because yes, that was what music was about: the impact it could have on people. When Valerie composed, she spent hours weaving piecing together all the elements of song; all the endless trial and error and failure until it all finally clicked. The way the right lyrics fit perfectly with the timing and the tempo. Taking poetry and a little kernel of her heart and translating into sound for anyone with working ears.

Every time Valerie stepped out on stage, she was tearing herself open and pouring it out there for people to dance and sing and feel to in their own ways.

Of course, inevitably, their talking about music turned into them arguing about it.

It wasn’t like with the guy at the other club. Danielle was a musician in her own right. People in drums and bass were always in the background. They set the pace and kept the rhythm going like a heartbeat, almost always unnoticed unless something went very wrong. Her perspective was interesting, and she charged ahead and challenged Valerie on every point but still somehow made her laugh, too.

As they talked, in the back of her mind Valerie wondered when it stopped being like this with Paulina and Star. They were her best friends, her bandmates. She loved them with a wordless ferocity that had only gotten stronger as the years went on- but at some point, things between them had become less ‘best friends making music together’ into ‘best friends that work together.’

She knew why, of course. She’d known it when she was fourteen and found a picture of her innocently holding hands with Star on the cover of a magazine, its headlines loudly speculating something taboo and scandalous. She’d known it when their first manager tried to set her up with a boy from another band for their ‘image,’ when the record label suggested a ghostwriter take the ‘time consuming creative process’ off her hands so she could focus on ‘other priories.’

Valerie figured out a long time ago she was a product being peddled first, and a musician a distant second.

She finished her drink and ordered a refill so she could peer into it; the world through warped glass and sweet liquid amber. Music was her life. It was her everything. She didn’t have time for many friends outside the band. She barely managed to call her dad once or twice a month.

It was like she’d given herself away, piece by piece, for her dream. And, at some point, she couldn’t honestly say what she was anymore. No way to separate the music from the label, the persona. No way to have one without the other, now.

But at least in the club, Valerie could just sit on a couch, one arm slung over the headrest, and talk music with a crazy tattooed girl that didn’t mind it when her arm accidentally brushed against her, sometimes.

“Seriously?” Valerie laughed. “Could you be anymore of a hipster?”

“It’s totally true though!” Dani insisted, loud and passionate and slightly drunk. “Fame can totally wreck great bands. Like okay: you’re an unknown band angsting about hollow suburbia and student loans and shit, and you strike it lucky and get rich and get famous and can afford a big house in the Hills- well fuck, you can’t exactly do the same music you did that made you famous, right? You’re not in that same place as an artist when you were writing songs in Mom’s basement. All the legends just make their living rehashing the stuff from the past- they don’t create anymore. At least, not good stuff.”

“Like the new Dumpty Humpty album.” Valerie nodded. God, had that been a disappointment.

“Right! You see? Fame kills, dude.”

Ember hollered from across the couch. “Hey! Is she going on about that stupid hipster theory of hers, again?”

“Ember, babe, I love ya and you look awesome in leather pants but: Pirate Radio!”

“I was going through some shit, okay!”

Danielle laughed. Ember gave her the finger and whispered something in Kitty’s ear. Valerie cocked her head and asked, playful and a bit curious. “So if your little theory's true, I guess me and your ‘cuz are on our way to ‘has been’ status?”

“Well- I mean,” She wiggled guiltily on the cushions. “There’s exceptions to every rule. Danny’s usually pretty good about taking his time and turning out good-”

“Phantom Planet.”

Dani winced. “Yeah, point, but nobody’s perfect. He made up for it with his fourth album after he broke away from that stupid record label. Besides, you got absolutely nothing to worry about. You’re like, going in reverse.”

“Excuse me?”

“I mean, like. The opposite of the Rule. You guys stared off with those teen pop songs- all clean and wholesome ‘let’s all go to the mall!’ and ‘oohhh I like boys but my parents opted me out of sex-ed classes!’” Her voice went high-pitched and disturbingly pre-pubescent. “But then you hit seventeen or so and it was like you woke the fuck up. Suddenly all your songs were like, bashing all the pervs salivating over you guys finally being legal omg and being all bold and cutthroat and it was kick. Ass.”

Valerie was utterly gobsmacked. “...you listen to our music?”

“Uh...duh.” Dani snorted. “Huntress was a fucking masterpiece. I had every song in that album stuck in my head for weeks! I couldn’t get anything done! How was I supposed to just...bang away with some stupid sticks like a cavegirl when you’re this gorgeous amazon of pop just owning it with nothing but your voice and six-inch heels?”

“All I remember was the backlash,” Valerie recalled. The fanbase had been split down the middle and the news cycles had a field day. If they hadn’t broken sales records, Valerie wasn’t sure that their careers would have survived.

“Fuck that noise and love your own,” Dani told her. “You broke outta that precious pure teen idol BS they trapped you in and took a shot. You gals may not be rockers, but what you guys did was fucking metal.”

A fuzzy, sloshing feeling pooled in Valerie’s chest, pleased but a little embarrassed. It made no sense; people shot her praise all the time. A constant stream of it- Dani was literally no different

(except that she was)

Valerie blamed the alcohol. She always got emotional when she was tipsy.

“Now you’re just sucking up.” Valerie recovered.

“Am not!” Dani piped up immaturely. “Trust me, if I was you’d know. I’d be way more shameless.”

“You? Shameless?” Valerie mock-gasped. She gently poked Dani’s tattooed chest. “You mean you have ink in even more shameless places than here?”

Instead of pulling away, her finger lingered there, very lightly tracing the pattern of the clock- just at the edges of her scar, as though she could smear and swirl the ink into something post-modern.

Dani surprises her by leaning into it, and practically purrs. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” The piercing on her lip made every syllable, every little movement much more noticeable.

Valerie looked down between them again. Dani’s hand was on her knee, dangerously close to hem of her dress, tapping a nervous little tempo that perfectly matched the thumping in Valerie’s chest.

Oh God help her, she kind of did. She really really did.

They might as well have been alone- but Valerie felt the most profound stage fright she’d ever had since she was eight years old. The words were all there, crumpled together like a mass clogging her throat- a song so desperate to be heard but trapped and chained by sweat and nerves.

Neither of them noticed the commotion at first- it was hard to, with the heavy music and soft darkness. Valerie eventually felt the shift around them, the background buzz of conversation halting, too many people standing at the same time. She looked around, saw everyone staring in the same direction and tried to follow where their sight lines all converged.

Danielle said, “Sammy?”, but he was too far away to hear her, arguing with someone while the bouncers were separating them.

“Get your hands off me!” The man tried to shove them back. His cheap vest was rich in pockets and those cargo pants were plainly out of place in a sea of jeans and fishnets.

“I saw you, you slimy son of a bitch!” Samuel yelled, barely loud enough for Valerie to catch. “This vulture was taking pictures!”

The bouncers encircled the man, blocking Valerie’s view. Ember was standing at the edge of the VIP area’s little steps, arms crossed and looking all the fiercer with Skulker obediently flanking her. Mr. White stepped forward to assist, but Skulker raised his arm to bar him.

It all made horrible sense when a bouncer walked over and handed Ember a bulky, customized camera. It was more expensive than any amateur or hobbyist could afford- Valerie had been on the receiving end of enough paparazzi cameras to recognize a professional's tools. A cellphone would have been more discrete, but there was no way it would have gotten a usable picture from far away in this lighting. The guy had made a gambit but got caught for it.

“Hey! You can’t take that!” He surged against the arms holding him with little effect.

Ember ignored him, clicking through the camera’s display and browsing all pictures stored in there. Valerie wanted to look over her shoulder, tear that camera out of her hands and smash it onto the floor and stab it with her heels, but she was rooted in place by the dread that had cemented into her guts.

Ember’s clicking stopped. Hesitating at something only she could see- but when she glanced briefly in Dani and hers direction, Valerie knew what was on there.

Oh God.

“I’m gonna need that camera back,” The paparazzo kept insisting. “That’s my property, you got no right to be stealing another man's liveliho-”

“This club is private property,” Ember said, voice low and dangerous. “Since there’s no way in hell anyone at the front door would have let you in here, that means you’re trespassing. And these-” She held up the camera. “Were illegally taken during your trespassing. So- basically- I don’t have to give you shit.”

“I’ll sue your ass for this, you washed-up bitch!”

No one said a word. Even with the band still playing, it felt as though everything went quiet.

A server came up to Ember with a fresh tray of drinks. Pulling out the camera’s memory card, she plopped it into one of the glasses like she was just adding another ice cube. “Ask me if I give a fuck,” Ember took a sip and waved her hand. “Get this leech outta here.”

The paparazzo yelled another string of insults and threats while security forcibly dragged him away, but he was quickly drowned out by the band. A crowd of people had gathered to watch the spectacle, lips moving soundlessly over the music, phones out and lit like a field of beacons. Texting. Uploading. Looking in their direction. At her.

The churning agitation in the pit of Valerie's stomach made her feel sick, like she was gonna upchuck whiskey and wet cement on the floor.

“Val?” Star put a hand on her shoulder. “Val, hun? Are you okay? Your hands are shaking.”

Numbly, Valerie looked down. Oh, they really were. Little aftershocks of adrenaline still rippling through her. She was like an instrument out of tune, resonating at all the wrong frequencies.

She flexed them, balled them into fists so tight her freshly painted nails bit into her palms.

Valerie didn’t know what was happening. She was just...panicking and worried and just so...pissed. She never wanted to go out in the first place, She’d wanted to relax and read her book after a long day of filming, maybe rehearse a little and get enough sleep so she could tackle it all again tomorrow. Instead she was in a club, freaking out and half drunk because everyone was looking at her and she knew even without photographs the rumors were still going to get out and her manager would be on the phone demanding an explana-

Then Danielle clasped her hands around hers, smaller and paler but strong. Sheltering them.

“Hey, it’s okay. Breathe.”

Valerie exhaled. Inhaled again, breath ragged.

“There you go,” Danielle squeezed her hands.

“I’m sorry, I-I can’t stay here.” She turned to Star, found that Paulina had joined them. “Can we just go back to the hotel? Please?”

Star and Paulina exchanged a look. Without a word, the motion passed.

“Of course,” Star said, and Paulina went to talk to Mr. White.

Valerie kept staring down at their hands. Danielle had to duck her head to catch her eye. “Hey. I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Neither did you.”

Valerie said nothing. Reminded herself to breathe and slowly released the pressure on her hands like a bear trap slowly opening. Hopefully she didn’t break the skin, this time.

“I’m sorry I can’t stay,” Valerie said.

“It’s okay. I get it. I did a tour with Danny’s band, remember? I’m just lucky nobody cares about the drummer.”

Valerie snorted back a laugh.

“For real though, I’m a drummer and can only name like...five famous ones, and two of those are Neil Peart.”

“Val,” Star said. “I think security’s ready to lead us out.”

“Wait, before you go!” Danielle pulled out a pen from somewhere, twirled it with a little flourish, and sidled close next to Valerie to write down something on her hand.

And then Star was pulling her along by the arm, away from her. Past Ember who saluted at her with the glass that still had the drowned memory card, past Kitty who gave Star a little kiss on the cheek, through the path in the crowd the bouncers forced for them.

The whole time, Valerie was careful to keep the numb, tingling hand with Dani’s phone number open, terrified of closing it too tight and smearing the ink; not nearly as permanent as she would have liked.

#screamo au

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