Chapter One

The wind off Lake Erie in the winter's cold enough to freeze your tits off.

Still, it's what I have to put up with every year around this time, when I come to Cleveland to cover the annual announcement of the inductees to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.

If you're old enough, you might remember when I used to host my own show on VTV. For those of you who aren't, it might surprise you to learn that in the days before they became the home of such quality programs as Knocked Up at 13, and Passaic Paisans, VTV used to show something called "music videos."

An amazing concept, I know.

As the years passed, and The Lin-Z Pierce show became a fading Gen-X memory, I settled into my role as cable-TV elder stateswoman, infomercial mainstay, and regular contributor to shows like Don'cha Love the 80's?

But it's my "job" as music columnist for that brings me to Cleveland every year, as the warhorses from my generation have reached the age where it's their turn to be enshrined in the hallowed hall dedicated to Rambling Rock publisher John Weiner's ego.

What can I say? After thirty years in this business, you get a little cynical.

Still, as the hellish wind whipped around me as I headed into the Hall, I couldn't help but be a little excited.

Two of the biggest bands of the 80's were expected to be inducted. The lead singer of one group had disappeared from the face of the earth more than twenty years earlier. The other group, as much as I couldn't stand them personally, were guaranteed to stir up controversy.

Best of all, the groups had been cutthroat rivals.

Even I had begun to salivate at the thought of Jem and the Holograms and the Misfits sharing a stage once again.

And if I could wrangle an interview or two? My column's hits would double. Triple!

A little later, I settled into my seat next to the rest of the music journalist's fraternity, and held up my smartphone to catch John Wiener as he strode to the podium for his annual announcement.

"And now, our inductees for 2012."

Finally.

Weiner cleared his throat and began announcing the nominees in his typical monotone. "Early blues pioneer, Dirty Banks."

I'd never heard him a play a note, but I assumed he must be quite worthy.

"The innovative producer, Jim Smalls."

Didn't ring a bell. Before my time, I assumed.

"The beloved singer-songwriter, Tom C. Holder."

I shrugged; a critics' darling who'd never been able to muster the votes until other, bigger names of the 70's were already in.

"Legendary soul diva, Janette Wilcox."

I smiled: Janette was a sweetheart, and the newfound attention coming her way would surely help ease her endless tax problems.

"New Wave stars, Socratic Hemlock."

I remembered three or four songs of theirs I liked, but I'd never been enough of a geek to follow them too closely.

"80's superstars, Jem and the Holograms."

Entirely expected, and the announcement sent a buzz through the press.

"And the late Prince of Pop, Dominic Lerner."

I gasped, not because he'd been inducted—that was an inevitability. But I assumed he wouldn't be eligible for a few more years, and it wasn't till later that I was reminded of his early, teenaged albums. This could only help to further erase the memory of his bizarre, tragic later years.

Wiener put down his paper. "Congratulations, again, to this year's inductees." He led the crowd in muted applause. (We're press—we're not supposed to clap, even though we do, a little).

I heard the reporter from ANN in front of me say it first, and soon the entire room became swept up in the buzz, as each and every one of us reviewed our notes to make sure we hadn't missed anything.

But there was no mistake: The Misfits, regarded by everyone and her grandma as surefire first-ballot Hall of Famers, had been snubbed.

This was the best news I'd heard in months.

As much as I detested Pizzazz, the former leader of the Misfits, I couldn't help but grin when I realized that whoever could land an interview with her would make a fortune on the open market.

Why not me?

But first things first. I managed to separate myself from the hungry horde, who, in the absence of anyone with any real knowledge, asked each other "Is Jem gonna show up?" and "How's Pizzazz gonna react?" I caught a cab outside the Hall and headed back to my hotel.

After brushing off the cabbie's attempt at small talk (just my luck—he recognized me!), I searched through my iPhone's address book and found the number for the president of Starlight Music.

"Hey, Jerrica doll," I enthused when she answered, "This is Lin-Z, making sure that I'm the first to tell you the good news!"

For someone whose office offers a spectacular view of downtown Los Angeles, I hardly ever look out my window.

When I first took over my father's office at Starlight Music, looking out the window meant seeing our rivals at Misfits Music, and knowing that Eric Raymond was there, looking down as he planned to steal my company from me.

Then, after the building across the street became the home of Stingers Sound, I spent years averting my eyes from it.

I knew that inside worked a man whose heart I broke, because only part of me loved him.

The part of me I had to put aside, because one life is hard enough to live, let alone two.

Now, the Stingers had shifted their operations to Berlin, and the building across the way was no more, replaced by a vacant lot and stray building materials for a shopping center that had been held up for months by red tape.

Well, I guess you can call me Jerrica Red Tape.

With the money I'd been offered for my property, I could easily build a new, modern office building, as well as make a number of needed upgrades at Starlight Mansion.

I could do that.

But on this day, like every other, I sat in my father's chair, at my father's desk, in my father's office, in the building my father built for the company my father started to promote my mother's career.

I put Synergy aside, because I didn't know how to use her without letting Jem take over my life.

Our childhood home went up in flames, a sacrifice to Eric Raymond's greed.

I had hardly spoken to my sister in the past several years.

I'd seen my niece even less.

I never had children of my own.

This building—this company—was all I had left of him.

Of either of my parents.

I could never let it go.

I swiveled in my chair and looked out the window for a moment at the ever-present crane and bulldozers in the dirt lot.

I made the silent promise I always made to my parents.

"I won't fail you again."

Then, my phone rang, and soon everything would change.

"Well, I just want to say, on behalf of Jem and the Holograms, that they could not have received a greater honor."

Record company muckety-mucks have a knack for diplomatic language, and few could deliver it with a smile in their voice the way Jerrica Benton could. Had she been a corrupt egomaniac as well, she might have become the first woman in the Oval Office.

"My readers will be dying to know," I asked her, "Are you able to contact Jem to let her know of her big induction?"

I paced around the lobby of the Blue Canopy Inn as Jerrica chuckled on the other end of the phone. "Well, Lin-Z, as you know, Jem's privacy is very important to her." She paused, a little too long, before adding, "What I can say is that Starlight Music is able to make contact with Jem, and I certainly will inform her of this wonderful honor."

As I headed up the stairs back to my room, I upped the ante. "And when you speak with her, will you ask her if she's willing to perform at the big induction concert?"

She again gave a long pause before softly replying, "I can't predict ahead of time how the conversation will go."

As I slid my keycard into the lock, I decided I'd juiced all I could from the Jem angle, and took another tack. "The other big news is that the Misfits were snubbed by the Hall. Do you think that's fair?"

The line went dead for a moment, long enough for me to ask, "Jerrica?"

"Yes, sorry." She sighed before replying. "You look at their sales and their loyal fanbase, and you can only conclude that no, that's not fair. But not everything is about sales. If the Misfits were snubbed, I can only conclude it's because their history of thoughtless, selfish behavior created a negative impression that still lingers among many of us in the music industry."

I clicked my teeth as I opened my laptop. "So you're saying, 'You reap what you sow'?"

"I guess you could phrase it that way."

I'd already begun tapping away at my keyboard. "Good, good."

"I hate to cut this short," Jerrica added, "But I'd like to let the Holograms know the good news."

"Of course, of course," I told her, as I typed my next headline, "HOLOGRAMS MANAGER SAYS MISFITS DESERVED SNUB!"

"Thanks for letting me know." She had switched back to her aural grin.

"No problem, gal. Congrats, and hope to see you at the big shindig."

"I'll certainly be there." As the line went dead, I stopped typing for a moment and began looking up contacts who could get me Phyllis Gabor's number.

The setting sun glinted off the freshly detailed chrome of the Mustang's rear bumper, as I wiped the sweat from my eyes.

Restoration work is enjoyable enough when I'm being paid for the job, but it has a special satisfaction when I know I'll be parking the car in my own garage at the end of the day.

I gave the car a final wax, as I warned my older boy David and his friends to keep their soccer practice away from the garage; He gave me a half-hearted acknowledgement and moved the game closer to the beach.

I ran the chamois over the hood when I heard Craig calling from the house. "Hey, phone for you, babe!"

I gave the Mustang a pat on the hood as Craig shuffled down the steps and handed my phone to me, along with a peck on the cheek for good measure.

I put the phone to my ear and said, "Hello, Aja speaking."

"Aja, have you been online at all?" Jerrica voiced bounced with anticipation.

"No, I've been outside for a few hours. What's going on?"

"Aja," she declared, "I've just received word that Jem and the Holograms have been inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame."

I let the words echo in my thoughts for a few moments before I replied. "For real?"

"Lin-Z Pierce called me a few minutes ago with the news, and I just confirmed it with representatives from the Hall. Congratulations, Aja."

"Wow! You too." I didn't know what else to say. Even though Craig still sat in with local bands from time to time, our connections to the music business had become so loose, I simply hadn't remembered that we'd be eligible any time soon.

"Thank you," Jerrica replied, before she added with a chuckle, "I hope you won't mind another round of interviews. I know it's a hassle, but the spike in sales of our back catalog is sure to help the Starlight Foundation."

"Oh, of course." Truth be told, as much as I loved life up on the coast with Craig and the boys, a change of pace is always fun now and then, and it would only be for a month or two.

Then the first dark cloud passed through my thoughts. "What did Kimber say when you told her?"

The line went silent for a moment. "I haven't talked to Kimber yet."

"Jerrica, you should have called her first."

I stepped into the garage for some privacy, as David and his friends headed back to the house. I heard Jerrica sigh. "I was hoping you could tell her."

I perched on Craig's drum stool and tried to keep from knocking the hi-hat over. "I thought you two were talking again."

A sharp tone entered her voice. "I thought so too, but I guess she's got other ideas. I tried calling her three times last week, and she hung up each time."

I ran my fingernail along the snare. "Well, I want you to understand that I'm not going to spend the rest of my life relaying notes between you two like we're in junior high."

Jerrica dropped the defensiveness and switched to a plea. "Aja, someone has to let her know about the induction. It doesn't seem like she wants to listen to me, but you've always been able to get through to her. Please, this is very important."

I swallowed hard and decided nothing could be gained from evasions or euphemisms. "And if she's been drinking again? What's the plan then? We can't subject her to media scrutiny if she's anything like the way she was a couple years ago."

"I know," Jerrica replied, softly. "I don't have a plan. Maybe we won't need one. But I can't get close enough to her to find out."

I picked up one of Craig's drumsticks and twirled it idly. "So, I'm the one with the guts to do the jobs no one else will, right?"

"Aja, I-"

"Of course I'll do it, Jerrica. I'd just rather not always have to be the one, you know?" I gave the bass drum a quick kick, and let the boom echo against the walls.

"Aja?"

"Yeah?"

I heard a small crack in her voice. "Tell her I miss her. Tell her…tell her to call me."

I sighed. "Of course I will."

"Hey," she added, "This is a day to celebrate, ok? Soon, we'll all get together and have a big party at the mansion."

I allowed myself a grin as I brushed my palm along the tom. "Sounds nice."

"Sure, we'll invite everyone. All the girls will come home, and we'll invite Danse, and Video, and the Countess…"

"And Jem?"

I groaned as the line went dead again. Finally, she spoke up, "Well, I need to let the others know. Please let me know what Kimber says."

"Sure."

Without another word, she hung up.

I grabbed another drumstick, and began making an unholy racket, jumping from tom to snare to cymbal, with no attempt at a beat.

Craig jogged up from the house, looking more winded than he should after such a short distance. "Something the matter?" He recovered his breath in time to give me one of his patented killer smiles—guaranteed to turn my knees to jelly.

I tossed the sticks aside. "Nope. Well, not after I make a phone call." I hauled myself up from the drum stool and threw my arms around his shoulders. "We're gonna take the boys over to Mrs. Adelman's, and then you and I are gonna have dinner, and champagne." I spotted my new car from the corner of my eye and added, "Then you're gonna make love to me in my Mustang."

Craig threw his head back. "Wow, what's the occasion?"

I gave him a quick kiss on the lips and told him "You're married to a Hall of Famer now, buddy."

He caressed my cheek and ran his finger along my left earlobe. "Hey, I've been married to one for seventeen years."

I brushed my lips against his palm and reminded him, "Eighteen."

He pulled me close to him and pressed his lips against mine. I breathed in his scent, and soon had trouble remembering my own name.

I'd been so good.

Honest.

I went more than two months without a drink. It was hard at first: I couldn't quite figure out how to fill my evenings without my cocktails, or how to fill the days I used to spend waiting for my evenings.

But each day got a little better. My aches and pains felt a little less achy and painful. I started getting outside more and being active again. Soon, I found myself writing new songs-songs I actually wanted to share with the world.

After a while, I noticed guys were starting to pay attention to me again, and not just skeevy ones anymore. Even a quick "Hey, beautiful," was enough to make me feel twenty again, for a moment.

I felt so good, I started making plans to fly back home to L.A. for a visit.

Wouldn't Jerrica be surprised to see how good I looked?!

And this time, I had thought, we're finally gonna become sisters again.

Then one day, when my daughter, Sara, called from school, she let it slip that her stepmother was going to have a baby…

Two weeks later, I sat alone in the living room of my Cape Cod home.

An old Taps Tucker album played in the background, as I sipped my sixth vodka and cranberry of the evening.

I'd drawn the curtains.

As I sometimes did in moments like that, I started to imagine my obituary:

"KIMBER BENTON, EX-HOLOGRAM, DEAD AT 44"

"WASHED-UP POP STAR FOUND DEAD"

"'KIMBER WHO?' SAYS DEAD STAR'S EX"

"KIMBER'S SISTER: 'SHE'LL NEVER EMBARRASS US AGAIN'"

I knew that last one went too far, but I didn't really care, as I began mixing drink number seven.

It was right then that I heard the phone ring. I don't remember why, but I started to run, then realized I wasn't steady enough for that, and slowed to a creep.

I heard the answering machine kick in, and Aja's voice. I couldn't quite make out what she was saying.

I nearly reached over to pick up the phone.

Instead, I left the room. I stumbled up the stairs and collapsed in a heap when I reached my bedroom.

I didn't want Aja to hear me. Not like this.

She'd never let something like this happen to her.

None of them would.

I dragged myself to the bed and plopped my dizzy head on the pillow.

A thought crossed my mind: With my luck, someone more famous would die the same day as me!

I laughed till I cried.

I cried till I slept.

I was groggy enough that I didn't know if I'd heard Jerrica correctly. "Did you say the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame?"

"Congratulations," she told me, adding, "I hope you'll be able to make it over here for the induction ceremony.

I yawned into the phone, and quickly apologized. "Well, I'm only scheduled to be in Paris for a couple more weeks. Anthony and I are flying back home on the 18th. Then I'm not scheduled to come back out here till May."

Anthony, in bed next to me, on his stomach as always, mumbled something. "Go back to sleep, honey," I whispered to him.

Jerrica sounded as if she were checking something. "Uh huh. Good, good, that should work out fine."

"Ok," I replied, too sleepy to stay in the conversation much longer.

Indeed, I must have begun dozing off, since Jerrica soon called "Shana?" in my ear.

"What? What?"

"I wanted to ask you a favor."

I smiled, knowing exactly what it would be. "Of course I'll do the dresses for the induction."

"Oh, thank you, Shana. You know we wouldn't be Jem and the Holograms in anything but Elmsford originals!"

As sleepy as I was, something in her tone and her words caught me by surprise. "We? Jerrica…should I start work on stage costumes? What do you have in mind?"

The line went silent for a moment, before she replied, softly, "I guess I got a little carried away. It's been an exciting day." She sighed, and then added, "We'll just need evening wear. Something formal, with a hint of the old Hologram look."

I turned on the bedside lamp, grabbed a notepad and jotted down a couple quick thoughts. Anthony grumbled, and I reminded him to go back to sleep.

"When I get back home," I told her, "I'll make sure to show everyone some sketches."

"Excellent!"

I tapped my pen against the paper as a thought came to mind. "How's Kimber doing? I know she must be thrilled with the news."

Jerrica didn't answer for a moment.

"Jerrica?"

"I haven't talked to her. I asked Aja to tell her."

I sighed.

She jumped in to defend herself. "Kimber's been hanging up on me. If she doesn't want to talk, I can't force her. If there's anyone she'll listen to, it's Aja."

I rubbed my temples and popped my stiff neck. "Well, I hope you know what you're doing. I hate to see you two like this."

"Do you think I enjoy it?" I could hear the irritation in her voice, and I suddenly realized just how tired I felt.

"Thank you for letting me know the news, but I'm very sleepy."

Jerrica started to say something, but stopped herself and finally said, "You're right. Well, rest up-I know the press'll be knocking down your door tomorrow, if they don't start tonight!"

I smiled. "Like old times."

"Absolutely. Have a good night, and congratulations!"

"You too. I love you."

"I love you too, Shana." With that, the line went dead.

I put the phone down, switched off the lamp, stretched my tired arms, and cuddled up next to my husband. I wrapped my arm around him and placed my hand against his heart, as I kissed the back of his neck.

"Who was that?" he mumbled.

I gave him a playful swat. "Silly! You know it was Jerrica-after all this time, I can tell when you're asleep and when you're not!"

Anthony chuckled. "I knew you'd make it in on the first ballot."

"Oh, did you? You had more faith in us than I did."

He reached up and patted my hand. "I've always had total faith in you, woman."

I gave him a few more kisses on the neck, but I soon heard the snores that told me he was asleep for real this time.

Instead, I cuddled closer and put my hand next to his heart again.

I counted his pulse, as I thought back to the terrible days two years earlier, when that heart almost took him away from me.

"All right, I wanna thank our guests again: Flint Westwood, Angelica Millerand, and the music of Inter-slice!"

I glanced over at my bass player, Tom, and gave him a quick nod. As soon as I rapped my snare, he'd nod to the rest of the group and help them into the closing theme.

At the desk, Bobby continued speaking to the camera, as he gestured to the cherubic-faced man seated next to him. "And as always, I wanna thank Kurt Scales." He pointed to me and added, "And of course, Raya Alonso and the Overnight Sensations!"

I gripped my drumsticks. Just a few more moments…

"Goodnight, everybody! See you on Monday!"

As soon as the word "Monday" escaped his mouth, I whacked my snare, and in moments, we were swinging our way through the closing theme I wrote, "College Fund." (Since it gets played every night on the show, I knew I'd be able to earn enough royalties to help send my nieces and nephews to school!)

After about a minute and a half, the director signaled for the cameras to shut off, and we brought the song to a close.
We spent a moment enjoying the warm applause of the studio audience.

Of course, I waited on my drum stool for a moment—I knew taping might not yet be over, and I watched as my boss for the last dozen years, Bobby Howard, talked to the director over the studio speakers: "Pick-ups? Any more pick-ups we gotta do? If we need re-takes, you gotta tell me now."

Bobby had become a friend over the years, even if not a close one, but I knew his temper could flare if he thought someone wasn't giving his all.

Just then, one of the stagehands handed me a note: "Call Jerrica. Exciting news."

I grinned. I knew exactly what she wanted to tell me.

We made it in.

I'd been on pins and needles for weeks as the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame announcement grew closer.

I never doubted we'd get in. Not because of anything I had done; these days, I think most people forget I even used to be a Hologram. Now, I'm mostly known for being the bandleader on Overnight with Bobby Howard who looks cute when they have her tell a dick joke! (I told my mother several years ago that it's best if she doesn't watch—she tried harder to get me to go to confession after hearing me say "ballsack" on TV than she did after my divorce).

No, I never had any doubt, because it's the Hall of Fame, and no one was more famous, and more beloved in the mid to late-80's than Jem.

"Fine, fine," I heard Bobby, call out, before he waved his arms and yelled out, "All right, that's a wrap for today, everyone! Great show!"

As I stepped off my stool to head to my dressing room, I heard him add, "And everyone give a big hand to Raya! We've just been told that Jem and the Holograms are among the latest inductees to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame!"

I had to fight back the tears as Bobby, Kurt, my band, the stagehands, and the entire audience gave me a standing ovation.

At moments like that, I couldn't help but think of Papa, and how different my life would have been if he hadn't convinced me to go to my audition with the Holograms.

I would have never achieved all the things I had if he hadn't believed in me.

If he hadn't taught me to believe in myself.

As the cheers rang in my ears, I remembered how it had been almost a year and a half since he'd passed away.

Then the tears came.

After a half hour of congratulations, handshakes, and hugs from my co-workers, I finally slipped into my dressing room and dialed my phone.

"Raya!" Jerrica announced cheerfully when she answered, "I've been trying to get a hold of you!"

"Oh, it's been so busy here-I heard the news on the set!"

"Oh, that's wonderful! Well, I just wanted to let you know, and give you my congratulations."

I smiled, before remembering she couldn't see me. "And you too. We would never have made it without you."

Jerrica became quiet, before telling me, "That wasn't really me. It was Jem."

"But you are Jem." I soon corrected myself. "Well, you were."

"We're going to have a special dinner at Starlight Mansion on Sunday night," she announced. "If you're not busy, I hope you can make it. I know Shana won't be back for a couple more weeks, but I hope Aja and Craig will be able to make it down."

"Sure, of course I'll be there." I bit my lip before adding, "And Kimber? How is she doing?"

After spending so many years in the music business and in Hollywood, it wasn't easy to shock me anymore. Even Bobby's sidekick, Kurt, one of the funniest, sweetest men I knew, battled an addiction to cocaine for years before we realized what was going on.

But Kimber was different—she was like a sister, and the last time I'd seen her, she could barely stand up.

"I don't know," Jerrica sighed. "She won't talk to me."

I knew better than to pick at her wounds. "Thank you again for the congratulations. I owe everything I have to you."

Jerrica laughed. "Raya, you would have succeeded no matter who you worked with. We were so lucky to find you."

The tears came again.

"Gracias," was all I could say. "Gracias, mi amiga."

We soon said our goodbyes, and I soon rejoined my co-workers. The after party couldn't have been better, and I celebrated until the early hours of the morning.

Just when an evening filled with kudos and well-wishes from across the globe began to risk giving me a swelled head, the Starlight Girls helped bring me back down to earth. The name "Jem and the Holograms" doesn't mean much to them.

Even our oldest girls are too young to remember Jem.

Discovering that my sister's Kimber Benton doesn't leave them much in awe anymore, either. Not that I'd tell Kimber that…

After a night of helping Madison and Hannah with their spelling homework, running lines with Alexis for her part in the school play, washing dishes with dear old Mrs. Bailey, and going over next month's expenses with my assistant, Ashley, I finally found time to settle down and celebrate with a glass of wine—champagne's not in the budget for informal events.

"What a day!" I slumped onto the couch in my office in the mansion.

Ashley poured a glass for herself and took a seat next to me. "A day you've all deserved for a long time, Jerrica."

I shrugged. "They deserve it all. I had the easiest job in the world, promoting such a great group."

I heard Ashley laugh. "It was never easy with the Misfits around!"

I took a sip. "I didn't tell you the best part, did I?"

"Hmm?"

"The Misfits didn't make it in." I laughed, but the laugh felt hollow in my throat.

Ashley chuckled. "I guess what goes around, comes around." She clinked my glass before taking a big gulp.

I stared at my drink. "I suppose you're right."

A little later, as I headed to bed, I made a detour to the empty room—the room in the mansion that had once been hidden behind holographic walls. The room I'd never been able to bring myself to use for anything else.

As I stood in my nightgown in the bare room, I began to concentrate, focusing my mind on a single thought.

"Can you hear me?"

I emptied out all the excitement of the day, until that thought was all that remained.

"Can you hear me?"

Jerrica?

"Is that you? Are you here in my mind now?"

I am always here when you ask for me, Jerrica. How can I help you?

"I've had some news today that's brought up a lot of old memories. Memories of being Jem."

Those memories bother you?

"Well, no. These were good memories." And they were. I remembered the exciting concerts; the cheering crowds; the five of us, onstage, together.

And that bothers you?

"A bit. I guess, it's just…"

You want to try again, but you worry that she will overwhelm you?

"You know me so well."

I heard her chuckle in my mind.

I'm programmed to.

I swallowed hard. "What does she look like now?"

Turn and see.

I looked to my left. The woman next to me had so much of my own face in her, though with a few less wrinkles. She was a tad thicker in the middle than the last time I saw her, and her pink hair was shorter and less bouncy.

But when I looked into her violet eyes, I could see so much of my own soul inside her that I forced myself to look away.

"Make her disappear."

As you wish, Jerrica.

I looked back to my left, and the image was gone.

For a moment, I thought I'd lost the mental connection, until I heard her in my head again:

Are you all right?

"I think I'm just being silly. I should go to bed."

I stepped to the door and sent out a final thought, "Good night, Synergy."

Good night, Jerrica.

I felt the connection snap as I closed the door behind me.