She-Rox: A Rock & Roll Novel (34 page)

Playing the last quick measures, letting both hands run up the keyboard in tandem, she punched the last three chords, letting the audience know it was over. The applause went up, rousing. Since it was over almost as fast as it had begun, she pulled the microphone to her lips and began to play two chords, pulsing them back and forth.

The crowd, hearing that she was encoring them with another selection, stopped clapping. Keeping up the two chords, Eddie regaled, “You heard Celina mention my aunt and if there is one thing she taught me . . . it was to always have something ready to perform at a moment’s notice. But I had to tell her, ‘Cara, Zia Gia, everybody doesn’t necessarily want to hear some old dusted-off piece from a dead Polish man.’ However, it has been my experience over the years, to find that there is one thing that both opera hounds and metal heads can both agree on. That is, being
anesthetized
.” The crowd cheered their approval. “Because you see, I’ve seen the liquor bills from the parties my mother throws for her beloved Opera Society,” Eddie testified. “I guarantee you any coloratura can throw down with Lemmy Kilmister.” The laughter rose as she finished, “We are, after all,
musicians
, so here is something I’m sure you will have no problem identifying with.”

(Sung to the tune of “My Favorite Things” from Rodgers & Hammerstein’s “The Sound of Music”)

Vodka and tonic, a scotch smooth at satin

Rob Roys, old fashioned, martinis, Manhattans

4 shots of Schnapps, so I don’t have to think

These are a few of my favorite drinks

Peach schnapps and red hots and gum drops and stoli

J.D. and J.B., V.O, and midori

Long Island iced tea mixed up in the sink

These are a few of my favorite drinks

Harvey’s and Bailey’s , metaxa, sambuca

Mount gay and bomby, tuaca, kahlua

Fix ‘em up. Mix ‘em up, quick as a wink

These are a few of my favorite drinks

I’m offended

By drinks blended

For some silly fad

But then I fix one of my favorite drinks

And then I don’t feel

So bad

A Gibson, some sloe gin, a nice margarita

Rumplemints, jager, goldschlager’s much sweeter

Absolut, anisette, one shot of pinch

These are a few of my favorite drinks

When it’s last call

Drink your highball

One last thing I’ll add

Just always remember to tip your bartender

And then he won’t feel

So bad

Finishing the song, the applause went on and, as Eddie got off the bench, she grabbed the corner of the piano and gave the guests a parting bow. Coming up, she blew a kiss to Celina who was clapping and nodding her approval. She moved the Katz to the head of the class, not only with Lanni, but Celina as well. Looking up on the banister, Eddie caught Slade up above, leaning over the balcony. With a wave of his hand, he motioned for her to come join him.

As Eddie walked back through the crowd, Celina stopped her, overflowing with praise, “That was
fabulous
! Thank you so much,” and waving her arm out, she punched, “They loved it!”

“Celina,” Eddie professed, “Thank you for inviting me to your home and allowing me this opportunity.”

“You’re welcome here anytime.”

“Hey, I didn’t know you were here,” Eddie greeted, ascending the stairs.

Slade watched the girl-woman form of her body pressed against the lustrous fabric, noting the muscular shape of her shoulders from wielding a heavy guitar. Slade wondered, not for the first time, exactly how best to seduce her. His first impulse was to throw her over his shoulder cave-man style and take her into the nearest bedroom.

“Well, Esther,” he admitted, “I’m not sure where to start, with the dress or the performance? That’s a
very
jaded crowd down there you just won over. Brava.”

“Are you here alone?”

“No,” he answered. “The keeper of my manhood is here.”

“Back from working that bastion of quality entertainment we call Reality TV?”

Resting his full weight against the railing, he said, “Not everybody has the ability to do impromptu exhibitions like that.”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t implying-”

“Oh, forget it.”

Feeling snubbed, Eddie softly asked, “
Slade,
what gives?

“Well,” he admitted, “I guess I find myself in unfamiliar territory.”

“How’s that?”

“I’m salivating over you much the way some Midwestern groupie in the states does over me.”

“Slade, you’ve got fans that positively love and admire everything you do, no matter how insignificant. And look at Bebe . . . after this reality show hits the air, the male population will be even more envious of you than they are already, if that’s possible.”

Minimizing Bebe’s role in his life, Slade blurted, “Bebe, she’s sex for sport.”

“Yes, I think I knew that.” Eddie tried not to laugh in his face.

“Okay, bad choice of words . . . so what was that first piece you played then?”

“Chopin—his sixteenth Prelude-”

“Uh, huh,” Slade hummed. “It’s unreal the way you play—such delicate hands,” he said, picking up her hand and setting it in the palm of his. Tightening his grip, he walked away pulling her along.

“Where are we going?”

“I want to show you something. Come with me.”

They got to the end of the long hallway, turned another corner, went down a shorter hallway, turned the last corner, and entered another vast room with billiard tables, a large bar and a mammoth TV screen. Slade stopped in front of a large photograph of Lanni, Todd and himself, which seemed to have been taken some time ago, judging from the hair styles. Pointing to the photo, Slade told her, “This is a picture of me signing my first contract with Moonshine Records—and that’s Lanni and Todd.” He pointed to them. Then he pointed to the empty space on the wall next to his picture and said, “And this space right here,” he brightened, his index finger making a big imaginary square, “is where we’re going to hang a photo of you signing yours.”

Eddie was overcome and opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Contemplating that open mouth, Slade took his cue and placed his own lips firmly on hers, as one arm pulled her in, allowing his other hand to roam the bareness of her back. His strength took Eddie by surprise as she found herself powerless to struggle.

When Slade finally set her back on her feet, he whispered, “Sometimes, the feelings we have harboring in our hearts, get caught in our mouths.”

Still feeling the wet taste of him on her lips, she said, “The two weeks you bought us with Moonshine is more than I could ever ask.” Eddie stepped back, trying to put space between them. Slade knew she was ready to bolt. In one swift move, he grabbed her arm again, tightly, trapping her. Eddie glanced at his gripping fingers, letting her eyes travel up to meet his. Her stone stare was a clear display of power, sure as Slade had grabbed her arm. Instantly, he released his clutch, knowing the full implication of her gaze.

She quickly walked away, back the way they had come in, and as the green gown disappeared around the corner, Slade stood alone in the billiard room instructing the reasonable side of him. “
Don’t mess with her. She’s too young. Amuse yourself with someone else.”
It was very good advice and he considered taking it.

Eddie found her way back to the party knowing it was past time to leave.

As she got into the Escalade, Kai asked, “So, how’d it go? Did you meet all the Hollywood elite? Dazzle them with your brilliance?”

Hearing his mild sarcasm, Eddie returned, “Yes, that’s precisely what I did. I dazzled them, I performed, I blew their minds.”

“You performed?”

“Mr. Fauste, president of Moonshine, asked me to perform in his home.”

“Really—so what did you play?”

“Some Chopin,” Eddie replied, looking out the window.

“Is it something I’ve heard before?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Is it one of those pieces where your fingers jet all over the keyboard?”

“Pretty much.”

Kai nodded, knowing first-hand Eddie’s incredible technical ability. “You showed off.”

“I
had
to. I’m trying to keep the roof over my head, but I gained a lot of ground at this party. The iron is hot—it’s time to strike.”

Kai understood all too well. He also perceived the erosion that ate away at their young alliance. “When I pulled up in the parking lot to get you, there was an entire colony of Goths all dressed in full black clothing, in the middle of the July heat, smoking, and you tell me you performed Chopin for this bunch—well, it’s . . . it’s pearls before swine.”

Eddie wanted to tell him, “
Yeah, that bunch
—
they get me.”
Instead, she relayed, “I didn’t do the number for them. I did it for Lanni and his wife, Celina. They’re Gia fans.”

Eddie closed her eyes the rest of the car ride home, as Slade’s kiss and strong hands burned a hole right through her psyche, producing a wave of guilt.
“Why should I feel guilty?”
she thought, “
I didn’t provoke him. I walked away.”
She did walk away, but for some unfathomable reason that wasn’t clear to her, the burn wasn’t altogether unpleasant, especially when he said, “
And this space right here is where we’re going hang a picture of you signing yours
.” Giving a stern warning, she cautioned, “
Don’t you dare trust Slade. He’s a snake and a cruiser who’ll take full advantage of you with his folly for useless enjoyment. When he’s done, he’ll toss you overboard the S.S. Smooth Operator and let you drown.”

Pulling into the cavernous underground parking garage of the hotel, Kai parked, got out of the car, and proceeded to walk around the back of the Escalade to open Eddie’s door. But she had gotten out on her own. “You have got to let me be the man around here,” he groused. Stepping closer, he tried to get a reading from her, but it was too dark. He grabbed her hand, but she didn’t budge. “What wrong?” he asked.

Sandwiched between the black Escalade and a Volvo, Eddie reflected, “Kai, the other night when we went for a walk—”

“Yeah?”

“You’re going to go back to Stanford and get—well,
lonely.
”

“Oh, so that’s what this is about,” he said, glad to be in the quiet of the parking garage. Eddie, no doubt, couldn’t discuss this in front of T.J. who was waiting their arrival back up in the room.

“I know I’m seventeen and you’re almost twenty-one. I also know I’m holding you back from—” Eddie couldn’t find the words. Her mind was reeling with flashes of Slade. Trying to erase the kiss, Eddie commanded, “I want you to treat me like any other coed you might find at school.” Cooling her words, she instructed, “I’m not Esther the Virtuoso, I’m not Eddie, T.J.’s best friend and I’m not Eddie, the Kat. Think of me as just some other girl you picked up on campus.”