She-Rox: A Rock & Roll Novel (17 page)

“Better our chances at what?” she pushed, “I thought we were working a deal with Moonshine? Isn’t that the whole reason
why
we let Todd in on the recordings?”

“Yes, but if we can get a bidding war going,” he plotted, thinking to himself, “
Ah, if I could get a bidding war going over these girls – the power, the control, the money! Good bye North Hollywood, Hello Bel-Air. “

9:30 p.m., The Hollywood Strip

They split up into pairs. Gretchen and Ginger took one side of the strip, Eddie and Raven the other. Standing outside the Rainbow Bar and Grill with an umbrella due to the constant drizzle, Ginger did her best to tack up the flyer, while Gretchen tore down the other rival bands posted in the same spot. It was cold and their matching black mini-skirts and corsets did little to warm them.

A well-dressed man in a high powered suit, short dark hair and a dashing white smile approached the entrance of the club. He stopped, smiled and asked, “Are you girls going inside?”

Ginger stopped tacking. He was devastating. They didn’t have men like that back home in Lincoln. Taking the initiative, Ginger pushed past Gretchen and said, “No, we’re just here putting up our band flyer.” She took one off the pile in Gretchen’s arms and handed it to the impressive looking stranger. “We’re playing at the Troubadour in two weeks.
Wanna come?”

The stranger took the flyer. “This is you—both of you are in a band—together?” Another man, almost equally as handsome, in his own dark suit, came up from behind and joined them. Trying his best to be cordial, the first man pointed to the new man on the scene. “This is my buddy, Clay. Clay this is, ah . . .”

“Ginger.”

“
Ginger,
” he sang, “and?
”

“My sister, Gretchen.”

“Gretchen and Ginger,” the man smiled, “and they’re
sisters
. Would you ladies care to join us for a drink inside?”

Ginger shook her staple gun at him and answered, “That would be impossible.”

“Why?”

“Because my mother told me never to talk to strangers,” she toyed.

“Milos Ballantine at your service -- I would be honored if you’d accompany me inside.”

The small party went in, leaving flyers and staple gun with the girl at the door.

G-Force discovered that Milos Ballantine was the owner of Exposure Magazine and Clay Warner was his editor in chief. Exposure was a magazine for men’s entertainment. It wasn’t porn, but it stopped just short of there. Its crowning jewel in the world of publication was its authoritative list of the Top 100 Hottest Women. And Milos, being the connoisseur of women that he was, would have been falling down on the job if he hadn’t invited the two lovelies in for a bit of banter and sustenance.

After a few domestic beers and Red Lotus Martinis, the men asked about the band, but Gretchen wanted to know about the top 100 list of hottest women.

Letting her finger run down the front of Clay’s suit, she purred, “So, tell us how you decide the top one hundred. I’ve always wanted to know.”

“Top secret,” Clay winked.

Ginger, genuinely puzzled, said, “Personally, I would find it pretty hard to decide who was hotter between say Demi Moore and Kate Hudson. I mean which one is fourteenth on the list and who is say, eighty-ninth?”

“Well, if your band does well,” Milos smiled, “maybe one day you both could be on the list. Then again, why wait? We could do a small blip on you girls with your band right now. It’s a publication for men’s entertainment after all. What could be more entertaining than a band full of blondies rockin’ out?”

“Oh, we’re not all blonde. The other two are brunettes.” Ginger didn’t want to give these nice men any false hope.

“Even better,” Clay said.

They came to an agreement.

“Business time is over,” Milos said, feeling the silk of Ginger’s hair.

G-Force agreed. If anything, they went one big step further towards getting a spread in Exposure. Besides, Eddie and Raven were out posting flyers. All bases were covered, except for one: Gretchen was supposed to meet up with Vince at 10:30 p.m., at the Catalina Bar & Grill.

The Kat House, 4:07 A.M.

Bang, bang, bang.
“Eddie, wake up!”
Bang, bang.
“Eddie!”

Eddie opened it and moaned, “What, Vince?”

“Where are Gretchen and Ginger?!”

“I don’t know.”

“Weren’t they with you and Raven posting flyers?!”

“We split up.”

“You have absolutely no idea where they are?”

“Aren’t they upstairs?”

“If they were upstairs, do you think I’d be down here at four in the morning banging on your door?”

“Sorry Vince, I don’t have any idea where they are. We left the strip and went down to Staples Center to post flyers on the cars at the Lakers’ game. They didn’t come home with us.” Considering the conversation over, she shut the door.

Sunday Morning, 10:00 A.M.

Eddie and Raven, eating breakfast, watched G-Force stumble across the driveway.

Eddie cracked, “It’s time for the walk o’ shame folks.”

“Shame . . . Are you kidding? That girl can juggle men better than a madam at a brothel. Between Vince, the mogul of the moment, Mr. Right Now from a nightclub, her fans and a fiancé back home, Gretchen is
way
past that.”

“Fiancé?”

Hearing a key slide in the front door lock, Raven took the cereal spoon out of her mouth and greeted, “Hello ladies.”

The spiked heels came off and hit the floor. Gretchen and Ginger looked spent.

“Far be it from me to care about your comings and goings,” Raven baited, “but you may have a problem with others.”

Biting, Gretchen asked, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Eddie, would you care to enlighten?”

“Nope,” she said.

“Vince came over to the house last night, waking Eddie up out of her bed
demanding
to know where you were,” Raven conveyed.

Rubbing smudged black liner out of her eyes, Gretchen stated, “That figures.”

“So, where were you guys? I mean, Eddie and I didn’t just cover our end of the strip-- we went downtown and put flyers on the cars at the Lakers’ game. You did post flyers, Gretchen? Ginger?”

“Yeah, yeah, we did the deal,” Gretchen snapped, “Now can we drop it please? I just wanna get out of these heels and lie down.”

“Don’t tell me you two were out slumming last night?”

“Hardly.”

Ginger, proud of her accomplishment, countered, “We were
out there
promoting the band. Like Vince told us to do. It just took us longer to finish our work, that’s all.”

“Well, whatever you guys were doing and wherever you were, Vince is pissed off. So, whatever story you got planned for him, it better be a good one. Don’t blow this whole thing sky high for the rest of us.”

Raven’s smug tone angered Gretchen. “Don’t be coming down on me, because trust me, I will give you an earful! I am tired of doing
everything
for this band. We wouldn’t be here at all if I hadn’t gotten us this far with Vince. I have been putting myself on the line over and over for this band, so do not get on your high horse with
me
, Miss Enola Killough.
Don’t you dare
. . . and you can stop lookin’ at me like that!”

“Like
what
?”

“You know like what.”

“Oh, you mean like a no-class whore?”

“
Class
isn’t what we need. We’re loaded to the teeth with class! What, with Miss
Wonder Bra
,
here in the band!”

“Oh no, don’t you be bringin’ Eddie into this,” Raven warned, “She’s my girl.”

“Oh, yeah, she’s your girl because you think she’s got all this talent? Is that it?” Gretchen leered at Eddie. “So, Eddie, tell me—what’s it like being the band know-it-all?”

“I don’t know?” Eddie deflected, “What’s it like having Todd Rivers “diss” your songs?”

“Well, here’s a newsflash, you gotta start promoting this band like we do every night of the week or you can kiss a music career goodbye. Ginger and I network constantly for this band. You guys just
take, take, take
! Whatever we bring on home, it’s always,
take, take, take!
It’s about time you two laid your own butts on the line so Ginger and I could have a
break
once in a while!”

“You mean a break from putting ourselves out there Gretchen-style?”
Raven barked.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You honestly think your twins are going to get us a deal?”

“I know it.”

“Oh, man, I didn’t realize you were so clueless. We would have been signed long ago if that was all it took. Here’s a
newsflash for you
—Todd isn’t interested in your snatch! What he wants is a song worthy to promote, not your physical wares. Don’t you get that? You’re so self-absorbed thinking the whole world is out to get a piece. This may come as a shock, but
everybody
doesn’t want you!”

“Oh yeah, well tell that to the guys from Exposure! We got us a photo spread last night with one of the biggest male magazines to hit the newsstands—because,” Gretchen resounded, “we
put ourselves out there.
You and Eddie, well, you guys just made a bunch of trash all over the Lakers’ parking lot.”

Raven took a cleansing sigh and counseled, “Gretchen, you don’t always have to be showin’ the goods. Leave your Freak-In-The-Box,
in the box.
We already have a super-sized mess on our hands with this Grammy situation. Have you even considered how you’re going to get it back to Todd? Did you know the reward is up over twenty thousand dollars now? The whole world is looking for this thing and its right
here
, in this
house
—stolen from the very guy we’re trying to get a deal from?”

“You want the Grammy?” Gretchen whispered, then shouted, “Is that what you want!? How ‘bout I go get it for you—give it to you! Then you and the magi over there can both figure out how to get it back to Todd—how ‘bout that!? ‘Cause I don’t want it anymore!”

Gretchen spun on her heel and stormed out of the kitchen. It had been six months since the Grammy had seen the light of day and with all the news circulating of its reward, it had become mythological, as if a unicorn was hiding in Gretchen’s room.

Ginger looked at the dirty dishes in the sink, hearing her sister down the hall ransacking their bedroom.

Quick footsteps made their way back into the kitchen, all eyes were on the doorway, waiting to see the shiny gold gramophone, but Gretchen was empty handed.

Ginger spoke first, “Where is it?”

“I don’t know. It’s gone.”