Joan's heart was beating heavy all day. Tonight was their first big show in the Hollywood club circuit. They'd played a few small shows here and there over the past couple of months, but this one was huge. Everyone they knew from the Hollywood scene would be there, including record producers that Kim Fowley had scowered the industry for. They were hard to come by, he told them, because no one wants to see teenage girls with guitars in their hands "waving their sex around like they're brandishing swords." No, he said. "All they want to see is women in the kitchen or on their knees!" This was the kind of thing he said to them all the time to get them pissed off and angry, to get them to show everyone what they got. He knew they could play and knew they could perform. They were tight, too. They rehearsed so much that it became second nature. But tonight was the first time Joan had been nervous for a show in a long time.

Sandy smiled at Joan as they sat around smoking cigarettes.

"This is going to be great!" Sandy said. "Don't you think, Joan?"

Joan nodded, blowing smoke out of her mouth. "Yeah. But I'm fuckin' nervous."

Sandy laughed. "Nervous! Joan Jett doesn't get nervous, remember? C'mon. This is going to really awesome. We're going to be great."

Joan smirked. Sandy always made her feel better about things.

"Hey," Sandy said, leaning closer to Joan. "What about Cherie?" she smiled and winked playfully.

Joan shrugged. "What about her?"

"You know," Sandy said. Joan just glared at her.

"Aw, c'mon Joan! Tell me!" she whined.

Joan threw her head back and laughed. "There's nothin' really to tell. I don't really remember, we were both kinda wasted…"

"Bullshit! You totally remember, I can see the damn look on your face!"

They both laughed. Joan felt herself blush.

"Alright, alright. I don't really know how it happened, but you remember that party we went to a last week, the one where we played a set? Well, Cherie just kept giving me this look, you know? Like, she wanted to tell me something but didn't know how to say it. So we were just talkin' and we went into one of the bedrooms, 'cause it was real loud and shit, right? So, we were talkin' and then, I dunno, we just kinda…" she trailed off.

"Kinda…?" Sandy said, her eyes wide.

"Well, I'm not really sure, but I think we, you know. I think we, like, fucked." Joan smiled, looking down at her hands.

Sandy shoved her slightly. "What do you mean you think you fucked?"

"Well, I mean, we did. I guess. I don't really know. It just kind of happened and it felt like fucking…in a weird way. But, a good way," Joan replied.

They both said nothing for a moment.

"So, you and Cherie…are you together or something?" Sandy asked slowly.

Joan shook her head. "No. It's not like that. It just happened, you know?"

Sandy nodded. "But, so, you like chicks now?"

Joan shrugged. "I like everybody," she said, smiling, taking another drag off her cigarette.

Joan and Sandy stumbled down the hallway before the show. They were laughing hysterically, feeling more drunk than they had intended to get. Joan slid along the wall and stopped outside the bathroom.

"W-wait a sec, wait a sec," she said. "I gotta piss so fucking bad! Hold this," she handed her cigarette to Sandy.

Joan shoved the door open and sauntered through the dimly lit bathroom. She went into the last stall and struggled to get her belt off. She swore under her breath, finally getting it undone and she sat down, relieved. As she sat there she heard someone breathing heavily in one of the other stalls. It sounded like a girl and her ears perked up. Then, she heard a second sound, which was much lower…it sounded like a guy!

Oh my God! She thought. Someone is fucking in here! She laughed to herself and listened closer. But as she did, she realized that the noises sounded familiar. The girl giggled and told the guy to be quiet. Joan's face fell as she realized who it was.

"Cherie?" Joan said loudly, finishing her business and pulling up her pants.

There were quick movements and she heard Cherie's shoes hit the ground. Joan walked out of the stall, a slight look of disgust on her face. She slowly walked past the stall that she knew they were in, continuing on to the sink. She ran her hands under the tap, trying to listen to what was going on. Nothing happened, so she turned and walked back out the door, a look of confusion on her face.

"What?" Sandy asked, holding out her hand with Joan's cigarette it in. Joan stumbled slightly, grabbing Sandy's hand and putting the cigarette in her mouth.

"Nothin'" she said. They stood there for a moment against the wall, swaying slightly. The door of the bathroom swung open and Scott, their acting manager, sauntered out, avoiding eye contact with Joan and Sandy, running his hand through his hair. Joan cut her eyes at him, taking a long drag on her cigarette. Moments later, Cherie emerged, looking flustered. She pulled at the collar of her shirt, shifting her shoulders so it fell into place. She stopped and looked at Joan, who just stared back at her, slowly pulling her cigarette away from her lips and letting the smoke filter out into the air. She wasn't sure what this feeling was that she was having – it wasn't jealousy, but it was something strange. The idea of Cherie and Scott together made Joan uncomfortable, not only because Scott was at least 21, and that Joan and Cherie had fooled around only a week before, but also because Joan had noticed Scott getting kind of friendly with Lita as well.

Cherie and Joan just looked at each other for a moment. Cherie didn't know what to say, she felt embarrassed and a little guilty. But, she was at liberty to do whatever she liked! It's not like she was with Joan or anything; it was just casual. Besides, she kind of liked Scott and she wasn't going to turn him away for no reason.

Joan shook her head, a sarcastic smirk spreading across her face.

"You fucking filthy dog," she said, dropping her cigarette and throwing her arm around Cherie's shoulders. They all laughed and Cherie felt relieved. She reached into her pocket and grabbed the pills that Scott had just given her.

"Up or down?" she asked as they stood at the bottom of the staircase, waiting to go back up and on stage.

"Down, girl," Joan growled, grabbing Cherie's hand and putting her fingers up to her lips. She parted them, and Cherie slid her fingers inside, dropping the pill on Joan's tongue. Joan swung around and jogged up the stairs. Sandy laughed, throwing her head back, her mouth open, and Cherie dropped the pill into the back of her throat. She swallowed it dry and winked at Cherie.

"C'mon Blondie," she said. "It's show time."

Cherie nodded, shoving a pill into her mouth and marching up the steps, behind Sandy, waiting for the fuzzy feeling to kick in.

They piled off stage, feeling like they were surging with electricity. Joan's whole body was buzzing and she had never felt so fucking great in her entire life. As they walked down the stairs and down the hallway to their make-shift change room, Joan grabbed Cherie by the arm, pulling her into the bathroom. She laughed, pushing her against the door once they were inside. She held her there, scanning her face, her ears ringing, her heart pounding. She was high – off the drugs and off of the performance – and she just wanted something to push all her energy onto.

"Joanie," Cherie breathed, feeling her pulse race. She stood there, pinned against the wall, her arms dangling by her side, her head spinning; completely submissive.

"That was incredible," Joan said. "I feel incredible."

Cherie nodded slowly, her eyes locked on Joan's lips. There was something just so damn alluring about Joan – maybe it was her attitude, maybe it was how hot she looked all sweaty, her jet black hair pushed off her face, her dark make-up smudged slightly.

"You were so fucking good out there," Joan said. "You're so fucking good."

Cherie smiled. She liked hearing this from Joan, liked knowing she was making her happy.

"You too," she breathed. "You were electric. I could practically feel you from across the stage."

Joan took a deep, stuttering breath and pressed her lips against Cherie's. A moan caught in her throat as she pressed against her. She didn't care about what had happened earlier, didn't care about anything except how she felt in this moment. Lust boiled over her, teenage desire raging through her whole body, peaked by the drugs, the booze, and the feeling of being on stage. She clawed at Cherie's body, grabbing her hips, her face, kissing her neck.

"Why the fuck did you have to wear a jumpsuit tonight?" Joan asked, laughing slightly.

Cherie smiled. "I thought it looked good," she breathed.

"It looks fucking great," Joan replied, pushing Cherie against the wall. "But I can't get it off you."

Cherie pushed against Joan's shoulders. "Right here?" she asked.

Joan shrugged. "Sure, why not? You seem familiar with that, no?"

Cherie frowned slightly. "Maybe we shouldn't. Maybe later…"she trailed off.

Joan backed away slightly. "Sorry," she said softly. She ran her hands through her hair and could feel them shaking. She needed a cigarette and another Quaalude to calm her down.

"You're really sexy, Joan," Cherie whispered.

Joan smirked. "Don't tell me that," she said, her voice low. "It only makes this worse."

They both looked at each other for a moment and felt this strange connection, like they knew everything that was running through each other's head.

"C'mon," Joan said, sighing. "They're gonna wonder where we disappeared to."

Cherie nodded, moving out of the way. Joan slid past her, grabbing the door, but leaned in and kissed Cherie again quickly.

"Ch-ch-ch-ch-Cherry bomb," she said, smirking.

Cherie made a face and grabbed Joan's waist, following her out the door. She glanced sideways at her as they walked down the hallway and Joan shoved her playfully.

Cherie felt at her best when she was with Joan, she felt safe for some reason. She liked Joan, and knew that there was something special between them, something more than just physical, that she had never felt with someone else before. Joan was different, and Cherie already knew that she was very important to her.