Screaming Divas Part 18

Sweet, innocent Harumi. Ca.s.sie spread her arms and gathered them in a group hug. "I'm totally fine. I just thought I'd give it a try, once or twice, for kicks. I'm not addicted. So don't you worry about me."

When they came out of their huddle, she could tell that Harumi and Esther were rea.s.sured, but Trudy-she'd need a little more convincing.

"Come on," she said, waving them on like a tour conductor. "We've got a demo to record!"

Once they were all set up in the studio, Ca.s.sie turned things over to Trudy. She wasn't interested in keeping everyone in line, anyway.

Trudy reached into her pocket and pulled out a piece of paper that had been folded into an origami crane. She flattened it and read aloud. "Okay, we're going to do 'Crashbaby' and 'Lady Lazarus Rises Again' first, just to make sure we get those tracks laid down. I think those are going to be our hits." This, with a nod to Ca.s.sie. "And then we'll do Esther's song."

"Really?" Esther's eyes flooded with tears.

"It's a good song," Harumi said, quietly.

Ca.s.sie nodded in agreement. Tell her now, she thought, willing Trudy to be nice. Tell her what she means to us.

"You've proven yourself to be a true Diva," Trudy said. "And this song has actually kind of grown on me. Plus, it's sometimes good to slow down once in a while, give ourselves a break."

They hadn't practiced it all that much, but Ca.s.sie was sure they'd be able to conjure some rough beauty.

The studio sound engineer was waiting for his cue on the other side of the gla.s.s. They put on their earphones, adjusted their mics, and did a sound check.

"Are you ready?" Trudy asked.

They all screamed at once, "Yes!"

By the end of their allotted time, they'd managed to record five songs. It was a solid sampler, enough to give local DJs and record companies a taste of their talent. As they were packing up, they made plans to celebrate at the Capitol Cafe.

"Before that, would you mind doing me a favor?" Ca.s.sie interrupted.

"Anything," Trudy said. "As long as it doesn't involve Adam."

A low blow, but Ca.s.sie figured she'd ignore it. "Would you all go with me to Mama's grave?"

"Of course we will," Esther said. It was as if now that her initiation was complete, she was free to speak up.

They all moved closer. She could feel their warmth, their strength. This must be what it's like to have sisters, she thought.

"What did your mama like?" Harumi asked.

"What did she like?" What a strange question.

Harumi shook her long hair out of her eyes as she tried to explain. "When we went to j.a.pan, after my grandfather died, we laid his favorite things at the family altar. Like tangerines and green tea. To keep his ghost happy, I guess."

Ca.s.sie nodded. She was pretty sure the spirit of her mother wasn't happy. Whenever she dreamed about Mama, she was raging. "She liked to drink. And she was really, really into beauty pageants." She rolled her eyes, but Harumi just nodded thoughtfully.

"Okay, let's go," Trudy said.

They caravanned to the cemetery and parked in a row under some oak trees. Dusk was falling. The sky was edged in pink, and bats swooped over their heads as they walked across the lawn to her mother's grave. Talk about spooky.

Ca.s.sie walked up to the headstone and traced her mother's name-Leticia Anne Haywood-with her fingers. "Hi, Mama," she whispered. "I'm sorry I've been away so long."

Usually, on this day, she lit a candle in her room and talked to the ceiling, imagining that her mother was listening. Sometimes she cried a little. But she was always alone.

Harumi stepped forward and put her left hand on Ca.s.sie's back. In her right hand, she held a tube of lipstick, which she placed in front of the stone. Trudy came next, with a mini bottle of whiskey. And then Esther. "Did your mama like music?" she asked. "Maybe we could sing something for her."

Ca.s.sie's eyes were filling with tears. "She did," she said, with a little laugh, dragging her wrist across her nose. "She trained me to sing 'How Much Is That Doggie in the Window?' It was my stage number. She had it all ch.o.r.eographed. Do you know it?"

"Wait here," Harumi said. "I'll get my ba.s.s."

A few minutes later, after a quick lesson, they were all singing a raucous punk version together. Ca.s.sie thought that they sounded good, but her mama was probably turning over in her grave.

38.

At the end of April, the Divas were in a rented van, plowing through the night. "Crashbaby" had started getting airplay on WUSC, the local college radio station. They'd be opening for Ligeia the next evening at a club in Was.h.i.+ngton, DC. This was the big time, baby. Trudy inhaled the scent of leather seats and closed her eyes. Soon they'd have their own van-no, a bus!-with "Screaming Divas" splashed on the side in DayGlo colors. Maybe they'd have the whole thing carpeted inside with bright pink s.h.a.g.

Trudy was so caught up in her fantasy that she didn't notice Noel disappearing from the seat across the aisle. He'd been snoozing only minutes before, a thin line of drool hanging from his lip. She twisted around in her seat and saw him sitting next to Ca.s.sie. Their heads were bent close together, and they were giggling about something.

Trudy was too keyed up to sleep. She just sat there, listening to Alan's snores and Esther's lip-smacking and the hum of the van engine. There was nothing to look at outside. It was black, the moon behind clouds. Instead, she looked at the pictures in her head-the Divas on an arena stage, buff boys tossing up their boxer shorts, the crowd shrieking for more.

They pulled into a Maryland diner at dawn. The Divas piled into one booth, Ligeia into another. Across the table, Ca.s.sie seemed s.p.a.cey. Distracted. Trudy wondered if she was on something. Then again, maybe she was just sleepy.

"Are you going to be all right tonight?" Trudy asked her.

"Sure."

"How about you, Esther?"

"Yeah. I mean, I think so." Her pale cheeks flooded with pink.

Trudy had been riding her hard, like some kind of dominatrix, but Esther had actually improved over the past month or so. Post-Rebecca, she'd started to relax a little more. She tossed her hair around when she was. .h.i.tting the drums, and made those rock star grimaces you always saw on TV. Esther had become fun lately.

Trudy glanced over at Harumi, who was shoveling hash browns into her delicate mouth. She looked rested and serene. Trudy didn't have to worry about Harumi. She might have concerns about Harumi's dad showing up, but he wouldn't be driving all the way to DC to cause a scene.

They'd been so pumped up about this trip that they'd managed to write three new songs over the past two weeks. They'd practiced every day for three to five hours, then lounged around talking about what they'd wear. Trudy had a little go-go dress with tiers of fringe that she'd found at a vintage clothing store. She was going to wear it with white majorette boots. Very sixties. Harumi had decided on one of her Goatfeathers outfits-a simple black dress and fishnet hose. Esther, who didn't have Rebecca to dress her anymore, would probably wear what she always wore-one of those Indian print peasant dresses. And Ca.s.sie, well, she said she was saving it for a surprise.

A couple of hours later, they were stretching their limbs in front of the club, glad to be out of the van at last. Trudy scoped the premises with approval. The Kit Kat Club occupied an old warehouse by the Potomac River. The outside was weathered wood, deliberately spray-painted with graffiti. There was a big dirt lot for parking. Trudy didn't see a marquee, but the regulars probably knew what was going on anyhow. No doubt flyers were plastered all over town. She had faith that the buzz was out about Ligeia and Screaming Divas.

They were greeted by Leo, a cute young guy with dyed blond hair and a trio of hoops hooked through his left earlobe. "h.e.l.lo," he said, almost bowing. "Welcome. We're glad you found your way here."

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 o.r.g.a.s.ms."

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 Ca.s.sie 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 lame. 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, Ca.s.sie looked like a G.o.ddess, 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 s.p.a.ce between her and Esther, but Noel ignored her. "Nice dress," he said to Ca.s.sie.

"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 Ca.s.sie, too, and he was moving to her side, trying to get her attention.

Gretchen, the new ba.s.s 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-s.h.i.+rts that were too small, rising above her bellyb.u.t.ton. 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. Ca.s.sie 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 ama.s.s 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 Ca.s.sie. "Want to sing?"

Trudy stepped back and let Ca.s.sie into the spotlight.

"Last night I had the craziest dream / you were waltzing in a moonbeam." Her voice trembled at first, s.h.i.+mmery 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 wors.h.i.+p.

"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, Ca.s.sie 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 ba.s.s 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 gus.h.i.+ng 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 ba.s.s, John's guitar, Noel's brooding voice. She could hear Alan bas.h.i.+ng 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 a.s.s off, but he just stood there and they were his. The feeling pa.s.sed 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 Ca.s.sie?" she asked.

A look pa.s.sed between them.

Trudy raised her eyebrows, but no one said anything.