She-Rox: A Rock & Roll Novel (43 page)

“I think so,” Raven said.

“Who’s the hippy dippy with her?” Ginger asked.

She wasn’t far off the mark. Over the summer months, Bryn’s dishwater blonde hair, though sun-bleached from all the gardening, didn’t receive any more attention than a comb pulled down the center of her head letting the strands fall free past her shoulders. She wore faded jeans, functional orthopedic sandals, and a t-shirt that read “Support Photosynthesis: Exhale.” Her very slim frame and tan exterior made her appear far younger than her forty-one years of age.

The four Katz watched the two older women ascend the bus steps.

“Hello, ladies.” Celina smiled. “May we come aboard?”

Getting over her out-of-body moment, Gretchen hemmed, “Sure.”

As Celina surveyed the posh new digs for the band, she asked, “So, are you feelin’ this bus?”

“Yeah, it’s dope, all right,” Gretchen said, the curiosity thick in her voice.

“I thought you might. It just came off tour with “Dark Day,” and I had Wind Song turn it back in to a shiny new penny for you.”

“
You did?”
Raven finally spoke.

“Um hmm,” Celina hummed, still looking around. “Where’s Eddie?”

“She’s checking out the studio.” Gretchen pointed to the back, her guard clearly up.

“I knew she’d love that,” Celina said, as if she’d known Eddie since birth.

“Eddie,”
Gretchen cried, “You’ve got company.”

Eddie left the studio and limped down the narrow bus hallway. Celina could see that the facial bruises were nearly gone.

Eddie smiled. “Hey, Celina.”

“Good,” Celina said. “Now that I have all four of you together, we need to sit and have a little girl talk.”

Gretchen asked, “Shouldn’t our band manager be here?”

“Well, she already is,” said Celina.

“I’m sorry?”

“This,” Celina announced, pointing to Bryn, “is your new manager.”

Gretchen scoffed, “You’ve gotta be kidding.”

With a subdued shake of her head, Celina continued, “This is Bryn Tanner. She is your new best friend. She will keep you up to date on all your tour dates, engagements, radio interviews, photo shoots, and hotel reservations. She will report back to the label everything that’s going down on this bus. She will make sure that you have everything you need except for things like your band equipment. Your stage manager will handle that.”

“I don’t get it,” Gretchen pushed.

“I remember your gig at the Troubadour.” Celina paused for effect and then continued, “It made quite an impression on me. I told Lanni to sign you that night. I thought “In The Confessional,” was a really good number and that you showed real promise . . . but then you went into, “Beauty,” with all that drive and energy . . . that was the clincher. I would have signed you that night on the spot, but Lanni said, ‘No.’ He wanted to hear more, so I left it.

“Fast forward to your last showcase—I woke up the next morning and over coffee, Lanni was still on the fence. But I know Lanni—I know what’s bugging him. He doesn’t want to be bothered with all the headaches from a bunch of young women who call themselves, “The Katz.” It’s just not in his vocabulary to get on the phone and push an estrogen fueled band. So I asked, ‘Is it because they’re a bunch of girls?’ And he gave me this look,” Celina's flip of her wrist said more than her words.

“So, I said, ‘Give me the girls.’” Celina tapped the pen she was holding on the manila file in her lap. She stopped her tapping and then said, “I believe in this band.”

“So,” Gretchen asked, “Are you trying to tell us that you’re our new boss?”

“No, Gretchen—I’m telling you we’re a team.” She grabbed Bryn’s hand and cried, “And this is your new co-captain.”

Eddie could see the flummoxed look on her band members’ faces. “This is good news, you guys,” she said. “This is like going to the gynecologist for a pelvic exam and finding out he’s a
she. This is good.”

“So, no Lanni, then?” Ginger asked.

“He wouldn’t be handling you anyway. He’d dump your project into somebody else’s lap and you’d never get the attention you need or deserve.” Celina saw a glint of reconciliation in their eyes. “If you want to know the real truth—if you would have signed with Zygote, Iron Horse, or some other label, you’d never be on a bus like this.”

“Why are you all of a sudden interested in the label?” asked Raven.

The question caught Celina off guard.

Looking to Bryn, Celina motioned with her chin and said, “Bryn, tell these girls how Moonshine began.”

Bryn began, “Back in the early eighties, I was going to school here at USC, but Celina was in New York. She was going to NYU thinking she’d get a degree in journalism, but really she was just taking aimless classes with daddy’s money. The real reason she was in New York was she was trying to land a job with Rolling Stone. That way, she’d have a press pass, get into concerts, ask all the hot musicians her burning questions and party with ‘em. I get on a plane to visit and one night we’re hanging out at CBGB’s—that was before it closed down. She’d call me up on the phone and tell me about these bands saying, ‘This band is gonna make it,’ or ‘That one isn’t,’ like she had a crystal ball.

“Anyway, so there we are, slam dancing, downing Kamikaze’s and out of nowhere she asks, ‘Hey, what if I started my own label? Look at all these unsigned acts. They’re desperate.’ So I asked her, ‘What would you call it—your label?’ And since we’re drinking Kamikaze’s she gives me some history about bootlegging and that it wasn’t just a big “screw you” to the government regarding taxes, it was also about the freedom for people to drink.

“The name “Moonshine” is about freedom from the government—freedom to do, be and create what you wish, without restrictions or censorship. So, you see, neither rain, nor sleet, nor divorce can pull this company out from under Celina. She’s not only the majority stock holder, she is Moonshine. “

The story put the two new faces of Celina and Bryn squarely into Kamp Katz. It also shot Celina’s credibility onto the level saved for the likes of David Geffen, Jimmy Iovine or Berry Gordy.

Seeing their demeanor go from one of doubt to defeat, Celina told her new fledglings, “One of two things is going to happen with this band. You’re either going to become a massive success and sell out arenas, or you’re going to self-destruct and implode on yourselves. I can’t see it any other way. You’re going to work together and break attendance records and CD sales, or you’ll go back home in less than a year’s time without so much as a lukewarm hit.”

“And how do you know all that?” Raven asked with a voice full of skepticism.

“The same way I knew that psychobilly would produce more style than music. But right now, we have a lot to go over,” Celina set her hands on the files on her lap. “We need to get down to work.”

As Eddie listened to Bryn discuss the “Rules Of The Bus” and her ideal of professional conduct, she wondered how long it would be until she saw Kai again. Would they be as Celina had suggested? Would they crash and burn? Or would they stick it out together and build an empire? Either way, it didn’t matter. She had signed a contract with Moonshine with an option for renewal in one year and a $750,000.00 advance that had to be paid back. She’d be busy.

The official band meeting came to a close and the Katz headed back to the Kat House in Raven’s Honda. “Hey, Raven?” Eddie asked. A thought had just crossed her mind.

“Yeah?”

“Do you remember that day in the band room just before the last showcase when Gretchen said that if we got signed and stayed in the house she’d go back to church?”

Raven broke into a huge smile. “Yeah, I do seem to remember something about that.” She glanced over at Ginger. “Ginger, do you remember that as well?”

“Eeee-yep,” she snickered, “I sure do. Mom’s gonna pee her pants.”

“Forget it,” Gretchen mumbled.

“Time to take a nap,” Raven advised.

“I don’t know if you missed it, but I’m not Laura Ingalls and this isn’t a rerun of ‘Little House on the Prairie’.”

“C’mon Laura, didn’t you hear Celina? We have to rely on each other, or ‘any disloyalty or breach of conduct and character would dismantle this band and be the undoing of our professional lives’,” Raven mimicked.

“I’m not going to church,
Ma
,” Gretchen stated, “and not only is this issue dead, it never drew breath.”

“You are channeling some bad karma, dude. Pa would be disappointed.”

“Ditto Pastor Beene,” Ginger added.

“Maybe you should keep your word just this once. Give us a show of faith,” Raven laughed.

The Honda continued down Interstate 101 as the four hashed out what constituted band integrity and the lyrics from The Clash came out of the car speakers, “Should I stay or should I go now.”

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