October 3, 1975

Beach City, DV

Greg spent most of the week wondering why he was still hanging around Beach City.

It wasn't for Ronaldo's sake. The wannabe filmmaker acted as loopy and mercurial as ever; instead of discussing the film project he'd lured Greg out here for, he invariably ranted about the latest round of nonsense he'd consumed from pamphlets found at the boardwalk. Most recently he'D started raving about the Trilateral Commission; Greg didn't know or care what that was, and told Ronaldo to fuck off until he actually wanted to talk business.

It wasn't necessarily for his friends either, though he liked hanging out with Jamie and a few other townspeople who weren't Ronaldo. And he did like Beach City, which was by the ocean, quiet and uncrowded. Which allowed for a lot of time to reflect and play and try writing music. Though that wasn't necessarily a good thing.

Certainly he wasn't a good enough fighter to help the Crystal Gems, in any meaningful way. He was well-built and tough, he had served the briefest of stints in the Army, doing a painless two year hitch at Fort Dix without ever going overseas. Which was fine with him, even though his clerical job was rather dull. He hated the idea of killing someone, and he never really mastered firing a rifle or the generally concept of military discipline anyway.

He also didn't have much fighting experience outside of the occasional bar brawl or smacking Marty around for being a jackass...and that kind of fighting wouldn't come in handy against government operatives with guns and other weapons. Especially since Rose's death, he considered himself a pacifist who wouldn't harm a fly, even in self-defense. He imagined himself as useless in a fight, should things come to that. And the way Garnet and Amethyst practiced with their weapons on the beach daily, a confrontation seemed inevitable.

And then there was Pearl. That she was still cloistered in her room recuperating from her emergency surgery didn't make Greg feel any better.

He got along well with Amethyst, and didn't mind hanging out with her separately from Rose, even though she occasionally amplified and encouraged his worst instincts. They grew extremely close after Rose's death, and more than once there seemed a chance they might become more than friends...but somehow they drifted apart, since Greg's career and Amethyst's new vocation didn't allow for a serious commitment.

Garnet...he didn't know what to make of the woman at first. He had few friends of color before meeting her and their early meetings were always awkward, especially when Garnet started spouting political jargon. But they warmed to each other; Garnet took the idea that a friend of Rose's was a friend of hers, and the two found a way to hit it off. Garnet even joined him in a concert once, playing keyboard to back up his guitar. She was also a decent singer, though she didn't often show this talent to her friends.

But Pearl...things had always been a nightmare with her. And frankly, Greg couldn't blame her.

Despite the brisk October air, Greg found himself sweating through his shirt and his jacket. It wasn't just the usual adrenaline of a concert and the glowing lights and the energy of performing. It was nervousness. And worthlessness. The sickening feeling that he'd already become a has-been.

His name was still enough to attract a decent-sized crowd - maybe 2,000 or 3,000, not bad for an outdoor concert in the fall. But he could tell that they weren't really into it, listening politely or dozing off at best. A few boos started rippling through the audience as the show wore on.

It wasn't Greg's singing or performing, he felt, that wasn't good; they seemed as good as always. Nor his back-up band, who were properly tuned and in-key and rockin' their hearts out. No, he was inclined to blame the material he was performing. His latest album had been written almost exclusively by a combination of Marty and a professional lyricist who wrote words for mediocre Broadway shows. "You need to be more commercial," Marty had told him, "so you might as well get some help! This guy'll make you a hit!'

Shows what Marty knew.

As Greg wrapped up another song about love and heartbreak to polite, unenthusiastic applause, a smattering of boos and "You sucks!", he winced and sighed internally. He knew there might be one way to salvage the evening, loath though he might be to do it.

"Thanks for comin' out tonight," Greg said into the mike as someone hurled a beer can onstage. "Hey, hey, keep it cool, guys! I'm not Spiro Agnew, after all!" His stab at topical humor led to more boos.

"Now I came here tonight to promote my new album, but that doesn't mean I've forgotten your old favorite. Everyone, let's give it up for our old friend, The Water Witch."

He started strumming his guitar to begin his biggest hit - really, his only hit - for about the six millionth time in his life. A few whoops went up from the crowd as he began:

"The beach was hot, the day was long

"An ice cold brew, a catchy song

"Everything going well

"Til like a bat outta hell

"Came the Water Witch!"

The crowd went from unenthusiastic to spellbound as he lit into the big guitar solo. Greg felt his reticence slipping away as the song went on. There were worse things than being a one-hit wonder, even if that hit was overplayed and cheesy as hell and not really what Greg wanted for his music.

As Greg looked into the audience, hearing cheers, he spotted Rose for the first time. A large woman in a white-and-pink sundress and thick, gorgeous red hair, beaming at him from the second row. Next to her a tall, thin, conservatively-dressed woman who seemed awkward and out of place.

The first woman watched Greg with a smile directed straight at him. A look of pure joy. And Greg felt his heart sink and he couldn't help returning her smile.

That was Rose.

Rose, from the very first, was extremely indiscreet about her feelings for him. He chatted briefly with two younger groupies until he stumbled across Rose at the exit, with her friend standing nearby.

"Mr. Universe, that was...Wow!"

Greg laughed. "That good, huh? Nah, it sucked. My music's taking a turn for the worse."

"I couldn't disagree more," Rose insisted. "Although...well, I felt like the last song you did was the most real."

"You got that right," Greg muttered. He sighed. "Guess there's always gonna be one song that works and a lot that don't."

"Pearl and I had a wonderful time," Rose beamed. "Right, Pearl?"

"It was certainly a unique show," Pearl agreed stiffly, forcing a smile.

Greg figured that Rose was here for a reason, not just to give him a pep talk. And so he extended the offer:

"Hey Rose, you, uh, wanna get something to drink?" Then he added: "Your friend can come, too."

Rose clasped her hands together and smiled. "I'd love to." But Pearl's smile vanished, replaced with an angry scowl.

From there it was bliss, for the most part. Rose wouldn't stop hugging and kissing him after the shows, even holding his hand in public and making a show of affection. Just walking around with her gave him a thrill he'd never felt before. The sensation that she wasn't just a fan or a groupie or even a lover, but a truly special and unique human being.

Then he'd see Pearl, who always seemed to accompany Rose, scowling in disbelief, and anger, and his heart would sink with confusion and guilt. Wondering if something that seemed so wonderful really could be, if it hurt someone else.

It didn't take him long to realize that Rose and Pearl were more than friends. Not that he cared overmuch. He hadn't been raised to be tolerance; rather, his Italian-American family considered homosexuality something never to discuss. (He could imagine his cousin Andy, a proud Silent Majoritarian, ranting and raving about the topic, but he didn't talk to Andy any more than necessary.)

Over time though, he got the impression that Pearl took their relationship a lot more seriously than Rose did. Pearl seemed to regard Rose as her everything, while Pearl was just one person of several, perhaps many, for Rose to have fun with. He felt a stab of sympathy for Pearl, even if it was clear that she hated his guts.

But maybe that was just his interpretation. Certainly Rose seemed to think she could have both him and Pearl and the same time, and acted that way in front of him.

It irritated Greg, and they would occasionally argue about it and try to clarify where they stood with each other.

"Greg, I have feelings for both of you," Rose insisted. "You can't make me choose."

"But...I mean, is it really fair to either of us?" Greg pleaded helplessly. "Me and Pearl? How are we gonna make this work?"

"The heart wants what it wants," Rose said mysteriously. Her words would have infuriated Greg, except for Rose's eyes and smile and utter warmth, which compelled him to accept them.

But Greg knew better than to solicit promises of fidelity, because he knew they'd be worthless.

And Pearl, at first, seemed to tolerate it, albeit with chagrin. More than once she'd call Greg a "phase," something that couldn't possibly last. Which implied to Greg that Rose had a history of this sort of thing, though he didn't press her on it. She would never miss an opportunity to show Greg up at a dinner or event with friends. After dancing with Rose backstage at a concert, Pearl crashed the show with an exhibition of her sword fighting skills. It was a strange, unnerving experience; Greg thought it was less Pearl's staking claim to Rose than putting Greg on notice that she could kill him if she really wanted.

And Greg didn't have an answer to that. And while Pearl was rarely so overtly violent and hostile afterwards, neither did she warm up to him. Instead she grudgingly tolerated him and seethed from the sidelines as he and Rose grew more serious, until they moved in together at Beach City and Pearl was left, back in DC, a sometime girlfriend to visit and indulge while she spend time with her real boyfriend.

"Does this mean that we're monogamous now?" Greg asked nervously.

"We'll see," Rose said with a smile. Not very reassuring.

But she seemed to try her best, and afterwards Greg never saw her openly flirting with anyone else, man or woman. He only saw Pearl once or twice, and she politely kept her distance without overtly showing the naked, angry jealousy from before. She seemed to be accepting defeat, or else biding her time in a plan to win back Rose.

Over time, to Greg's astonishment, even started settling into a homemaker's role. She stayed at home most of the time, cooking and cleaning and turning from a Bohemian to a dutiful helpmate. Greg, whose music career continued sputtering, didn't know what to make of it, and Rose's comments on the matter didn't seem very helpful.

"Are you really going to quit business and just, like, look after me? Not sure how long you can rely on me to support us."

"Greg, I love you," Rose assured him. "I'll do anything to make this work. We should both be happy; that's what counts more than anything."

"But what about your sewing business? I don't want you to give up on your dreams just for the sake of me."

Rose smiled mysteriously. "My dream is to be here with you," she insisted.

She seemed as good as her word. No more trips to New York or DC or Philadelphia with her art friends. If Rose occasionally seemed restless in her job, wistful for something that she didn't want, it was momentary melancholy that passed. She and Greg discussed a new dream that they had together - opening up a restaurant. Greg had the idea of selling burgers and hot dogs, "nothing fancy, but we could do some decent business on the boardwalk."

"I'm all for the idea," Rose agreed, "once I learn how to cook."

"Cooking burgers is easy!"

"For most people," Rose reminded him. "But remember, I'm the one who manages to burn cold cereal."

"That's because you're not supposed to turn on the stove when you make Lucky Charms..."

"Well, I know that now..."

When the Crystal Gems wanted to see her, they'd come up to Beach City and he and Rose would entertain them. Occasionally they had more serious conversations, the contents of which Greg only guessed at at the time (the true nature of the Gems, somehow, didn't occur to him until much later), but mostly it was casual, cozy friendliness that Greg could deal with.

Only Pearl's presence and occasional resentful glares indicated there was anything wrong. And after awhile, Greg did his best to ignore her.

Through it all, Rose seemed happy. And that's what made Greg crazy, in retrospect.

There was no reason for what happened next.

"So, you're a musician?"

Greg was a little startled when the shy, slender young woman in a sundress - Lapis? - sat down next to him on the beach. They hadn't spoken much - at all, really - and she didn't seem the type to approach a stranger. But Greg didn't necessarily mind the company, as out of place as he felt here.

"Kinda," Greg said, playing some notes on his guitar. "It's been awhile since my last album...My career's going nowhere fast."

"Hmm. Have you done anything I might have heard of?"

"Maybe. Do you know The Water Witch?"

"Water Witch?" Lapis racked her memory. "Yeah, that...sort of rings a bell."

"I would hope it did," Greg muttered. "They played it on the radio, like, every 15 minutes back in the fall of '69."

"Sorry I'm drawing a blank," Lapis apologized. "So many songs to keep track of...You know, I used to listen to buy every rock album ever when it came out."

"Uh-huh," Greg said. "No kidding?"

"Well, that's hyperbole. But yeah, I used to have a pretty awesome collection of stuff. Was really into some of the early British bands."

"The Beatles?"

"I'm thinking more like Manfred Mann and The Kinks?"

"Ahh, now those were good groups," Greg said. "I mean, the Beatles were great, but...Anyone can like the Beatles."

"Yeah," Lapis muttered.

"She's always brewing trouble and tea," Greg sang, riffing a few notes on his guitar. They launched into the Manfred Mann song for a moment, with Lapis snapping her fingers and humming along. The two laughed as they finished.

"Say, you're pretty good," Lapis said. "Are you writing anything new?"

"I keep trying to," Greg said, fidgeting with the guitar tuners. "But...I dunno. I keep wanting to write songs about Rose, which just...at this point, it doesn't seem healthy."

"Rose?" Lapis asked.

"The girls haven't told you about Rose?" Greg asked, incredulously. "She was, like, their leader. The one who got them all together. Kinda crazy stuff, when you think about it. Says something about the kind of woman that she was that she got Garnet, Amethyst and Pearl together."

"Yeah, I guess," Lapis said. "I haven't interacted that much with them, except Amethyst. She seems cool."

"Amethyst is a real trip," Greg snickered. "Take it from me. But yeah, Rose was kinda the leader of this outfit, and...well, it's a long story."

Lapis stared at Greg for a moment, inviting him to explain.

"I guess the short version is...I loved Rose. And so did Pearl."

"Ohh." Lapis nodded in understanding.

"It was...not a pretty situation. And then she died, and it got worse. And me and Pearl...well, we're still not really on speaking terms."

"Bad break-up?"

"I don't think there was really ever a break up," Greg admitted. "Just...you know, Rose did what she wanted. She didn't see a problem with seeing both of us at the same time. But she never really thought...I guess it didn't occur to her that me or Pearl might have a problem with it."

"That's messed up," Lapis empathized.

"Yeah, but I can't be too mad about it," Greg muttered. "Not anymore, at least."

Greg sighed and lowered his head, unable to say more. Lapis decided not to press him any further.

"So, who are the Crystal Gems, any way?" Lapis asked. "And, like, what do you guys do? You just drive around and look for damsels in distress to rest?"

"Well, I'm not really one of them..." Greg protested. "I'm more...gem adjacent."

"Okay. But still, I mean, they were pretty badass, I'll admit that...But they didn't stop to think whether or not I wanted to be rescued. I guess that's what bothers me. Why did they do it? What do they want from me? Am I a prisoner, a hostage? It's just...I wish I knew."

Lapis looked out at the ocean, her hair wisping in the breeze, eyes full of worry. Greg tried to come up with an answer, something to reassure her. But realized he couldn't.

"So, you said you're into music?" Greg said, hoping to lighten the mood.

"Oh, yeah!" Lapis said, apparently happy at the change of subject.

"You play an instrument?"

"Not really," Lapis admitted. "I'm one of those people who loves music but can't play a lick on anything."

"That's most people," Greg said.

"I used to paint, but...it's been so long since I've done anything."

"Were you good at it?"

Lapis smiled wistfully. "Used to be. Nothing too special, just landscapes and still lifes and stuff. Nothing you'd hang in a museum, but...I liked doing it."

"What made you stop?" Greg asked. Lapis sighed and didn't answer, lowering her head between her legs.

"Well...far be it for me to give you advice, since I don't really know your story," Greg said carefully. "But if I were me, and I had a talent...I'd use it."

"Even if it reminded you of horrible things?" Lapis asked, her eyes obscured by her hair.

Greg thought about her words, then what he'd said a moment ago about Rose. And the two clicked.

"Especially then," he said.

Lapis smiled again and got up to leave. "Well, sorry to bother you," she said, extending a hand. "It's Greg, right?"

"Yeah?" he said, shaking her hand.

"Lapis, Lapis Lazuli. Like the stone."

"Neat," Greg said. "Greg...well, Universe is my stage name. My last name is DeMayo, but...nobody calls me that any more."

"Anyway...thanks for talking," Lapis said. "And if you come up with any new tunes, you're welcome to try them out on me."

Greg smiled. "I would love to," he said.

As Lapis walked away, slowly making her way back to the beach house, Greg thought about their conversation, thought about Rose. Thought about the best way to get some of the pain and misery out of his system.

Within minutes, he had the first few bars of a brand new song.