Burned Out
Chapter 3: Collage Board
Jennifer dipped the steak fry in a pool of green ketchup before putting it in her mouth to chew thoughtfully. She looked over at her sister in the darkened booth of the Zomblebee's restaurant to gauge her reaction to all this, and was a bit relieved to see acceptance. Reluctant, and not without a fair bit of residual anger, but still acceptance. Looking over to Sylvie and Lisa, she found them in much the same state of mind, but then, they were the two easiest-gong members of the band. She listened to strains of Kurt Cobain singing about the joys of lithium over the restaurant's sound system for a moment, before the current source of friction in the group opened her mouth again.
"So, yeah. Sorry about blowing up on you guys the other night. I just... I know it's lame, but he really makes me feel special, you know? And the way you all talk about him and his band feels like an attack on me personally." Monique had the decency to at least look contrite and hangdog. It didn't help matters much that her Zomblebee's waitress uniform made her already emaciated street punk look even more zombie-like. "I want you guys to have more input in the band, so I made this." She pulled a folded up piece of paper and laid it flat on the center of the table, pushing aside the fries she had bought for them as an appetizer to the true apology.
They looked down at the paper, and Jennifer's eyebrows went up in confusion. "A contract?"
Monique nodded and absently grabbed a fry to eat. "It gives all five of us equal say in what we play, and how it's made. Basically, all the important stuff we do onstage is up for debate, so long as we're not actually onstage, or an hour before. Beyond that, we all have equal input. No repercussions, except for insults, of course."
Jennifer looked over the details, which itemized everything that would be considered a valid topic for debate in the band, which included lyrics, musical style, stage dress, makeup, as well as responsibilities for every member. There was even an amendment system which allowed for expansion of new topics, responsibilities, and even new members. All in all, it looked like a lot more thought went into this than Jennifer usually gave Monique credit for. Still unsure of how willing the older woman was to commit to the loss of this much autonomy, she asked, "So, if we don't like the lyrics of a song, or the arrangement you asked for, we can vote to change it?"
With a hesitant nod, Monique replied, "Yes, but a good reason has to be given, both for and against the changes, and a vote taken. With as few member as we have, that will mean that no one can just not vote."
Sylvie leaned forward over the arm she rested on the table, her breasts spilling over them as she reached for another two fries. "Sounds fair. That way we all get to hear the pros and cons and make an informed decision, I guess."
"What happens if one of us suddenly doesn't want to follow the rules, and decides to force the others to do what she wants?" Lisa asked.
Picking up the contract, Samantha read the final paragraph out loud. "If for any reason, one of The Harpies tries to force her views without the permission of the rest, she will be given three chances to recant and apologize, or be forced from the band forever." She returned the paper and looked Monique in the eye. "Sounds pretty harsh. Are you sure about this?"
"I... I deserved that, I suppose," Monique said, looking down in shame. She drew a deep breath and let it go in a sigh before looking up again. "I... I know that I've been the source of most of the friction in the band, and I'm sorry about that. You guys deserve better than that. You've been my friends since elementary school; even you, Jennifer. You're a lot more than Sam's little sister to me. I'd have never trusted you with all the arrangements if I did think you weren't be able to handle it."
This took Jennifer completely by surprise, as she was sure that Monique saw her as a decent vocalist at best, and a potential rival for control of the band at worst. "I may not have been the best of friends lately to you all, but I promise you, that Trent and I are going to be taking it a lot slower this time. We... we also agreed to keep our private lives out of the bands. The guys in Spiral have been giving him some grief over us, too. I really want us to make it as a band, and I know that I have a lot of problems that stand in the way of that, so I wanted to give you all a way to rein it in a little, maybe smack me across the nose with a rolled up newspaper," she added, getting a chuckle from the rest of them.
Sylvie was the first to grab a pen from Monique's waitress apron and sign at one of the dotted lines. "Well, you certainly sound like you know you did wrong, and you're willing to work with us, so that's good enough for me."
Lisa took the pen from her and signed, adding, "I'm just glad we got here without any bloodshed."
Samantha looked at the pen now resting on top of the contract, then to her sister, than back at the pen before picking it up. "All right. We'll give this a try. I've heard that some bands work better with the boundaries laid out in writing. Maybe we're one of those?" She held out the pen to Jennifer, expectantly.
Instead of taking the proffered instrument right away, she looked at Monique curiously. "So I really get a full vote? You're really willing to do that?"
"It would be pretty stupid of me to say no, not just because I consider you a friend, but also because you're the best singer among us, making you just as important as any of the rest of us," Monique replied.
With a smile, Jennifer happily signed and pushed the contract over to her, the last person to actually sign it. As Monique put pen to paper, she was more than a little touched to find that they had left the first line open for her, their leader.
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Jennifer looked at Daria as if she had just grown another head and placed a crown upon it at a jaunty angle. "Are you serious? They're making you take a college prep class? You're like, one of the two or three kids in school that I know of, who need a class like that the least."
Daria shrugged and finished off her chocolate milk. "It would seem they disagree with you. I guess that visit to their friends spooked them into doing something 'for my own good', so to speak." She thought for a moment before asking, "Wait, who are the other two?"
"Jody and Mack," she answered.
Daria considered this for a moment, then said, "Okay, Jody I can see, but why Mack?"
"Football scholarship."
"Of course," Daria said with a roll of her eyes. "How could I forget the time honored academic tradition of accepting people into an institution of learning based on how well they handle their balls?" She shook her head and looked a little angry. "No, that's not really fair. Of all the guys on 'The Team', Mack is the most deserving of a spot in a good college. He at least, can diagram a sentence more complex than, 'See Jane run.'"
Jennifer tilted her head to the side. "All the emphasis on sports really bugs you, doesn't it?"
Daria sighed as she considered her now empty lunch tray. "What's not to like? Academics and funding for the things that actually further society are underfunded and left to wither on the vine, while people cheer for their favorite tribal warriors like the Romans with their gladiators, paying them exorbitant salaries for doing something that in the end, has as much impact on real life and society as collecting stamps. Great. Now I'm really depressed."
Feeling sorry for her, Jennifer said, "Cheer up. It can't be all that bad. I'll even take the class with you if you want."
"No, it's okay," Daria replied with a shake of her head. "No need for the both of us to suffer. Besides, aren't you planning to go touring with the Harpies when you graduate?"
Jennifer smiled. "Yes, but this is held during school hours, and I'll take any excuse that I can to get out of math class."
Daria shook her head, but Jennifer could tell her gloomy mood was dispelled. "One of these days, I'm going to have to disabuse you of this irrational hatred of numbers."
With a fake snort of disgust, Jennifer replied, "Pffft, please. As long as I can tell the difference between three-four time and four-four time, I'll be fine."
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Once actually sitting in the class, Jennifer was starting to have misgivings. Sure, her mom had fronted the fifty dollars for the class, but already, she was doubting that the return would be worth it. The guy teaching it didn't look much older than she did, and she had a strong suspicion that he was doing this for college credit. Still, she wasn't one to waste money when there was so little of it in the house, so she at least tried to pay attention.
As he stood in front of the class, leaning on the desk like one of those alleged "cool teachers" you see on TV, he began with a standard bland banality that said little and taught even less. "Today's admission standards are more rigorous than ever, which is why-"
"Can we move this along; maybe get to the relevant stuff? Some of us have things to do," Jennifer said, trying to hide her irritation. She looked over at Jodie, who was staring at her in shock. Equally fed up with all the assumptions her classmates made just because she was quiet, she added, "What? I'm missing some premium nap time in Econ class."
Taking the opportunity Jodie's silence gave, the instructor said, "Okay, okay. Topic one: testing. You have to know how to take a test. Like, when you get a multiple-choice question, you can usually eliminate two of the answers right off."
He was interrupted again when Brittany raised her hand and asked, "Excuse me, sir? Does that work with true/false?"
The instructor sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.
Jennifer smiled and glanced over at Daria, noting that she also had written nothing on her notebook. I swear, if he doesn't start saying something I didn't already know, I'm gonna demand my money back... okay, Mom's money back.
After nearly another twenty minutes of near-useless "advice", the instructor started handing out some worksheets to the class. "Okay, this is an informational sheet Push Comes to Love sends around to 600 leading colleges. It's called 'My Personal Goals and Aspirations.' Let's all talk about college..."
Looking over the sheet, Jennifer was disappointed to see that again, almost nothing new to her was presented. So disgusted was she, that she almost missed the whisper from Kevin sitting next to Daria. "Pssst. Daria, what did you get for number one?"
Daria shot him an incredulous look. "The thing about who I really am?"
The jock was trying so hard to not look like he was cheating, even though Jennifer doubted the instructor would have cared, even if it had been that kind of class. "Yeah."
"Try, 'cross-dresser'," she supplied.
"Thanks, man. I owe you one."
Jennifer had to work to suppress her snickering. In order to take her mind off of the situation, she let her mind wander towards where she'd like to see herself in five years.
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Ducking into the small area backstage ahead of the rest of the Harpies, Jennifer wiped her face clear of sweat with a red paisley handkerchief from her jacket pocket. The black leather studded with spikes and chains, was fashionable as all get out, it was also hot as balls, especially under the flood lights of the club's stage. She came up to Daria, resplendent in a brown turtleneck and black slacks under her usual green wool trenchcoat, and accepted the ice-cold bottle of water. "Thanks. What did the club's owner say the numbers were like tonight?"
Even though she had the numbers memorized, Daria still consulted the small notepad she pulled out of an interior pocket of her coat. "Better than last night's, actually. He had to turn away nearly a hundred people at the door, including the president's daughter again, because the people already in didn't want to leave until they heard you guys again." She nodded a greeting at the rest of the Harpies as they kept moving past the pair, towards the tiny green room set aside for performers. It seemed even Monique was too bushed to stop and talk to Daria about their numbers tonight.
"All told, our take tonight is looking to be around eight thousand. Factoring in travel expenses and lodging, this one night alone more than paid for the trip. Keep this up for the rest of the week, and we'll be able to head back to the cabin for a well deserved vacation until next month." Daria put the pad back in her pocket and got a serious look on her face.
Jennifer knew her too well to ignore a warning sign like this one. "What is it?"
Daria bit her lip, slightly smearing the lipstick that subtly brought one's attention to them. "He's back."
She didn't need to elaborate for Jennifer. This particular "He" was well known enough for her to know what she meant as soon as she said it; something in the inflection. Jennifer sighed and nodded, looking down at the floor. When she looked up again, both women were wearing shark-like grins that would make a pack of wolves think twice about approaching them. "I think we've strung him along long enough. What's his offer this time?"
"Eighty-eight percent mechanical royalties."
Jennifer nodded her approval. "Much better. What do you think?"
With a shrug, Daria replied, "I think he's going to try to pare it down as much as he can in the final negotiations, but at least now we have some wriggle room. I believe it's time to call that firm my mom told us about. Honestly, the Abbey Road label is one of the better when it comes to treatment of its stable of artists, and they're always looking for a new sound like the one we're making. Not often one comes across a grunge-electronica band with a built-in fanbase as large as the Harpies'."
"He knows we're a package deal, right? He's not going to try to steal you away to write songs for other artists, is he?" The blonde actually sounded nervous when she asked.
Daria shook her head. "He knows better after rumors spread of what happened to the last guy to try that. I'm not going anywhere without you... or the Harpies."
Jennifer gently took her hand and smiled. "Thanks, Dar. I honestly don't know what I'd do without you."
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Jennifer shook her head to clear it and returned to her worksheet. Still, she couldn't help but think about the strange twist her fantasy took.
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Jennifer looked over at Kimberly, her mother as she drove. The woman had been insufferably happy since she had been approached for money for the college prep class. Now that they were actually on their way to look over the BFAC campus, it had gone from insufferable to downright jubilant- nay, rhapsodic. She was even singing along with R.E.M. On the radio about shiny, happy people, for crying out loud.
Perhaps noticing the grumpy staring, Kimberly looked over at her youngest daughter and smiled as she reached over to tousle her hair. "You know I'm proud of you, right Sweetie?"
Jennifer ducked away, preserving her dignity and coiffure. "Even if I decide not to go after all, and just continue with the band straight out of high school?"
Not even this attempt at beatuscide could destroy Kimberly's smile. "Even then. At least I'll know you're giving college some serious thought, unlike your sister."
Samantha sat up from her reclined position in the back seat indignantly. "Hey! I'll have you know that I did give it serious thought!"
Kimberly spared her eldest a withering glance in the rearview mirror. "Dear, cogitating over it on the toilet for five minutes is not serious consideration. You shouldn't make important life decisions based on what your friends are doing. Had you truly given it serious thought, you might be doing something more important right now than dishing out garbage pie to teenagers for minimum wage."
"It is not minimum wage! I'm getting nine twenty-five an hour!" Samantha retorted.
"Can we please not argue about this right now?" Jennifer nearly shouted, startling her travel companions. It was not often that she raised her voice outside of the stage or practice. "I'm still not sure I even want to go, let alone go to this one; standards and reputation notwithstanding. I may just go to Lawndale Community College if I even bother with it at all. At least they don't have weird requirements for a music degree."
She lapsed into a fuming silence, stewing over how she had gotten in this fix in the first place. She had not even really considered college before this, thinking of just following in her sister's footsteps and touring with the band. After looking into the kinds of courses fine arts colleges offer, she couldn't help but note how her interest had been piqued. Getting taught by professionals how to compose and arrange music, not to mention official choral classes instead of a defunct glee club which no one attended? Who knew such options existed?
Kimberly gently patted her daughter's knee by way of apology. "I'm sorry, Jenn. Just think of this trip as a nice little mini-vacation with a side trip to explore more options for you, okay? I don't want you to feel pressured into something you may regret."
Arms encircled both the seat and her neck from behind, squeezing affectionately. "Yeah, sorry. Didn't mean to spoil the mood for you, Little Sis."
Jennifer laid a hand on each of theirs and smiled. "Sorry I yelled. I just... I dunno."
"Sweetie, you're a teenager. You're ninety percent hormones right now. I'd be concerned if you didn't occasionally blow up at me," Kimberly said, gently squeezing her knee.
"More like ninety-five percent. Fifteen is a rough year," Samantha added.
Jennifer rolled her eyes. "Oh, ew. You two aren't going to try to give me 'The Talk' again, are you?" The trio laughed, letting the tension get left behind on the road.
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Jennifer glanced around the campus as the tour guide showed them the sights, noting just how many band geeks and art nerds were in attendance, and just how relaxed and at ease they seemed to be. No one was making fun of them for their interests, and it seemed like they even encouraged each other to loftier heights. The only altercation they saw was an a cappella group getting into an argument with a bunch of artists who wanted to use the same outdoor space for something they called, "martial arts painting class". The issue was resolved when the two leaders of the groups squared off and actually resolved the disagreement with a game of rock, paper, scissors, of all things.
The dorms were a lot more lax than Kimberly liked, with most of them being co-ed, and the RA's almost entirely absent. "How do you keep the students from.. getting into trouble here, with no RA in sight?" She gestured to the kids going in and out of rooms with little regard for whose they were, and the noisy instrument practice as well as the art supplies lying around everywhere.
"They aren't usually this bad, really, Mrs. Peterson," the guide replied. "Dorm rules tend to be pretty lax here, but ideally, there should be an RA in attendance, especially after classes, and the place not quite so messy." She made a note on her clipboard, actually looking a little angry and embarrassed. "BFAC is a place where creativity flows, rather than get stifled, but there's perhaps a bit too much... er, 'creativity' flowing here," she said, while trying to navigate around moldy pizza boxes, some stacked high enough to act as an end table. Opening the door leading to the outside, she said, "Why don't we head over to the Bursar's office, so you can discuss financing. I... need to make a quick stop at the dean's office."
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The corpulent, balding man sitting behind the desk in the richly appointed bursar's office wiped his sweaty brow with a damp handkerchief and brought out a handful of colorful brochures, all with smiling, happy students, some in their cap and gowns. "So you see, we have many options for financing education here, and even offer a few in-house scholarships for exceptional students." He looked to Jennifer and asked, "What were you thinking of studying here, if I may ask?"
Jennifer gave a slight, nervous shrug. "Music production stuff. Not sure what exactly, but definitely arranging and vocal. Maybe piano and guitar as well. Still feeling it out, you know?"
The bursar smiled widely. "Aaahhh... an aspiring musician. I remember when I was your age, I had my own garage band. The Munsters, we called ourselves. Mostly surf/psychedelic rock with a smattering of pop covers. We broke up when our lead guitarist wanted to change to folk music." He shook his head and looked sheepish. "Sorry. Missing my misspent youth."
"No problem. It's a curse of getting older," Kimberly said with a smile.
He sorted through the pamphlets for a moment before pulling one out the size and shape of a folder. "Here we are; the Presley Foundation Fund." He laid it out on the desk, opening to a page near the back. "This one is for musicians, but requires you to be part of a band. If you're not already, then you may want to start now. They require you to be part of an active band or bands for no less than three years and perform in a variety of venues. That won't be a problem, will it?"
All three females gave a short round of laughter. Jennifer managed to gain control of her giggle fit first and said, "I've been in my sister's band for two years now as the vocalist. Well, officially two years; I was doing roadie work for them since I was ten. We mostly play in the Zon; the only real club where we live, but we have taken trips to neighboring towns to play clubs and bars."
"Well now, that's certainly encouraging, and a very good start," he said, startling the two younger girls, which caused their mother to smirk. "Just keep at it, while expanding your venues, and you'd be in the top five for the scholarship, easy."
Samantha nervously asked, "Er, not to interrupt, but what would you suggest for expanding our horizons that would make Jenn a serious contender?"
Leaning back in his chair, the bursar folded his hands over his vast stomach. "Well, now. I would start maybe with some free concerts in the park; maybe leaving a hat out for donations if the busking laws in your city are lax; you'll want to look those up first. Also, look into performing at coffee houses, raves, maybe even the local mall. I would also take to passing out fliers for the band- er, what was the name?"
"The Harpies," Jennifer supplied.
"All female band?" he asked, then nodded his approval. "Nice. So pass out fliers promoting the Harpies, maybe even look into making a web page for yourselves with free samples of your music." He bent over in his chair to go through a desk drawer and pulled out a thin, folded up pamphlet. "Here we go. This will list some easy, common ways to promote your band. Even if you never attend BFAC, I'd like to see you achieve your dream, and be able to say, 'I knew her when she was just starting out.'"
Jennifer glanced through the single sheet pamphlet, and smiled excitedly. I can't wait to show this to the rest! We're going to be the biggest thing to ever happen in Lawndale! Not that that's saying much. She carefully put the paper in a pocket inside her jacket and smiled. "Thanks. This will come in really handy, I think."
The man smiled back, and perhaps he sat up a bit straighter. "Always a pleasure."
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The ride back was considerably less miserable for Jennifer. She didn't even mind the beatific smile that seemed permanently plastered to her mother's face. She reread the smallest pamphlet again for the fifth time that day and daydreamed about how the Harpies were going to explode on the club scene with these tips.
"Well, that was a lovely trip, despite the condition of the dorms," Kimberly said in passing.
Samantha leaned forward and stole a piece of bacon jerky from the package in Jennifer's lap. "Yeah. If I had known college could be like that, I might have decided to go after all, and made the girls go with me."
Jennifer turned and slapped her sister's hand, which was reaching for another slice of jerky. "You had your chance!" With a smile, she faced forward again, and looked at the cover to the Presley Foundation pamphlet, running a finger over the likeness of Elvis that was the foundation's logo. "I think I'll try for it. The scholarship, I mean. Even if I don't get it, and we can't afford BFAC, there's always the community college, and like you said, it's all about options." She looked over to her mom, who looked like she was about to cry, but was still smiling.
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Back in the college prep course, Jennifer was telling Daria all about her experience at BFAC when the instructor walked in and sat on the corner of his desk again as if posing for a picture. "Okay, okay... so, like, let's all talk about our college experiences. Uh..."
Kevin perked up immediately, so eager to tell his story, that he didn't even bother to raise his hand. "My big brothers stripped me naked and covered me with molasses, and left me in the middle of a field at night! It was awesome!"
Brittany's smile rivaled Kevin's as she related her own trip. "I had a good time, too. I walked into the student center and these kids were reading poetry - then they let me make up some of my own! And they were really interested in my feelings and thoughts and... stuff."
Her boyfriend's smile fell and he gave her a confused look. "Huh? That sounds stupid."
In a rare show of independent thought, Brittany tartly replied, "Shut up, naked boy."
Trying to regain control of the class, the instructor looked over to Mack and asked, "What about you?"
Mack gave him a lopsided smile. "I learned about the first-string exemption. Turns out if you make the starting squad, you never have to take any exams."
For the first time since starting the class, the instructor looked excited. "All right!"
However, Mack was quick to pop his bubble. "Yeah. I'm looking forward to a great education. May I please have my money back now?" he asked sarcastically.
The instructor was taken aback for a moment, but managed to keep a fake smile in place as he muttered, "You little..." He spotted Daria and Quinn, and desperate for a saving grace, he asked, "Oh, and you two. How did you like the famous Middleton College?"
Ever quick to throw her sister under the bus, Quinn said, "Daria got us thrown out."
Arching an eyebrow, the elder Morgendorffer turned in her seat to look at her accuser. "I got us thrown out? I beg to differ, Keg Queen."
"Keg Queen? Can I have your autograph?" Kevin asked, earning him a death glare from Brittany, and a cold shoulder from Quinn.
"Dream on, naked boy," Quinn replied, turning her nose up at him.
Outraged, the instructor said, "Whoa, whoa, wait a minute! You got thrown out of Middleton? I- I just can't understand you kids sometimes. In my day, we had a little something called respect."
Jennifer gave a short bark of laughter. "'In your day'? You're like, five years older than us, eight, tops."
The instructor put his head in his hands, and began mumbling about no credit being worth this.
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A/N: I have to say that this is the fastest I've ever put out a chapter this size. I guess my muse finally found her way out from that spa and back to me. I hope she keeps this up, because I've found writing to actually be a relaxing way to spend a lazy afternoon.
So, yeah, this is Monique's first attempt at redemption; let's hope it sticks. I've always figured her for a bit of a control freak when it comes to her band, and it showed here. Sometimes it works, most times, not so much. That kind of attitude rubs people the wrong way, and performers don't often like being told what to do, especially if they think it's wrong or stupid. This also cements Jennifer's place in the Harpies, so you know she's not going anywhere without them.
As for Jennifer's mom, I was tempted to make her Helen's office monkey, Marianne (as inspired by another Burnout Girl fic I read that never was completed), but after considering her pictures, I decided she was far too young to have a 20-something daughter. Heck, she looks too young to have a teenage daughter, so I made up someone entirely new.