Disclaimer: That '70s Show copyright The Carsey-Werner Company, LLC and Twentieth Century Fox Home Entertainment, LLC. The fictional band Degenerate Matter, their albums Vagabondage, Ultrarelativistic, WIMPs and MACHOs, Frozen Stars, and all the lyrics contained therein copyright to the author of this story (username: MistyMountainHop, maker of Those '70s Comics).
CHAPTER 41
HEAT DEATH
March 3, 1995
San Francisco, California
Wintry Grand Avenue Ballroom
…
Throughout the evening, Jackie migrated from one part of the Wintry Hotel's ballroom to another. Never walking too fast. Never staying too long in one place. A preternatural sense of calm had overcome her, without the aid of Valium. Maybe that was typical when one orchestrated her own ending.
Lavender and silver adorned the ballroom. The only hint of mourning was the black-draped tables, but those were topped with lavender dishware and silver vases. The opulent decorations, the diamond chandeliers—Ann-Marie had spared no expense to impress Steven, but he wouldn't see it. He didn't know about this party or how it fit into Jackie's plan, aka the Big Blonde Burn.
The party guests, however, complimented Ann-Marie every chance they could. She received more flattery than Jackie did birthday greetings. But Jackie's mom and the Blonde Brigade had drawn up the guest list. The majority of people here likely didn't register that this was a birthday party.
Music executives, fashion insiders, and corporate CEOs drank with hedge fund managers, venture capitalists, and members of the press. None were Jackie's friends. None looked in her direction. She'd dressed modestly: a black cocktail dress, a violet cardigan, and her half-moon Chanel purse. Only her mom and the Blonde Brigade acknowledged her presence, like animal wranglers keeping tranquilizer guns trained on a wild tiger.
Jackie made her latest round to the stage. No equipment had been set up yet. According to her mom, Ecliptic's performance would happen within the hour. Steven was supposed to arrive within the hour, too. At least, that was what Jackie had led her mom and the Blonde Brigade to believe.
"Jackie!" June's heels clacked on the hardwood floor. "Jackie!" Her spindly fingers wrapped around Jackie's arm. In heels, June was easily six-foot, four inches, and Jackie strained her neck to look up at her. "Is Steven Hyde here yet? You've got to tell me."
"He's not here."
June's makeup was model-flawless, but her cheeks were unusually red. Her cream-colored dress clashed with her blood-intensified blush, but tears also rimmed her eyes.
"I'm not supposed to say anything," June said, "but Trevor's having a really hard time. The Giants are mired in the fallout of cutting Darryl Strawberry. It's not like the team forced him to snort coke, but everyone's on edge. And the baseball strike! This season is looking just as bad as the last one."
"I'm sorry," Jackie said, gathering her last scraps of compassion. "Maybe tonight can take Trevor's mind off things."
"That's what I'm hoping."
"Ecliptic should be playing—" Jackie checked her watch despite that she knew the time—"in about an hour. I'm sure he can meet the band."
June gestured dismissively. "Trevor thinks Ecliptic's a bunch of posers. He has to meet Steven Hyde. He just has to, Jackie." She touched a fingertip to the corner of her eye and blotted a tear. "The moment he gets here, you bring him to me and Trevor. They can drink a few beers together. That would really lift Trevor's spirits."
"I'll be sure to relay your request."
"It's not a request."
June's heels clacked on the hardwood floor again before Jackie could respond. June had to be rushing off to Trevor, but her demand would go unfulfilled.
A half-hour later, Jackie stood at the back of the ballroom with her mom. Ecliptic's sound crew was onstage, setting up, and Pam wouldn't stop talking by Jackie's ear: "Their second album will rival Degenerate Matter's latest. I've heard the rough mixes, and they're incredible." She sipped champagne from her crystal flute and continued. "Just incredible. They're going to play a few of the new songs live tonight, and I've no doubt Steven will be blown away."
"If the new songs aren't just Degenerate Matter riffs tuned to a different key, he might lose some disrespect," Jackie said, but her mom spoke over her.
"Their song 'Last Bus Stop in LA' has a Dark-Side-of-the-Moon-era Pink Floyd vibe. It's going to be the first single..."
Jackie turned her attention to the stage. It was too far away for her to see much. The instrument techs resembled dots. Larger dots in front of the stage had to be security, but the amount was out of proportion to Ecliptic's fame. Hiring them was probably an ego-driven move.
"Pam, sweetheart—" Jackie's stepfather, Anders, surfaced from a conversation with a trio of expensively-dressed investors—"I think we should get close to the stage now."
He offered Jackie's mom his arm, and she clasped it. "Jackie," she said, "once Steven finds you, find me."
They disappeared into the crowd, but Jackie was headed toward the stage, too. She took a different route among the tables and hid herself within a group of corporate executives. She had a good view of the stage here, as well as one of her mom and Anders. Pam pointed to the burly security guards and seemed to ask Anders a question. He began to answer, but Ann-Marie stepped onto the stage.
"Hello, everyone," Ann-Marie said into the lead singer's microphone. Her voice filled the ballroom, and all extraneous chatter dissipated. "I'm so glad you could all come to this Wintry event!"
She went into her usual spiel about the Wintry Charities. A white curtain hung behind her, undulating slightly with activity backstage. Her formal white gown blended into it. Only her head, shoulders, and arms appeared to have any corporeality, making her resemble a creature out of Beetlejuice. Jackie laughed into her fist. The end was so close, and her giggles drew stares from her corporate-executive camouflage.
"And now," Ann-Marie said, "I'm proud, so very proud, to announce our special guests. The multiple-GRAMMY-award-winning, hottest band in the world: Degenerate Matter!"
The ballroom exploded in white noise. The applause and cheers were deafening, and Jackie covered her ears. People pushed in front of her, blocking much of the stage from view.
"Did I hear that right?" someone said over the din, giving voice to Jackie's own thoughts. "The invitation said Ecliptic—"
The stage's visibility changed constantly as bodies shifted around. She moved with them, maintaining a narrow but consistent view. The white noise grew louder as Ro Skirving, Sherry Chambers, and Nate Stack walked onstage. A knife of fear slashed Jackie's heart, but she had to be hallucinating. Or she'd passed out and was dreaming this up.
"Good evening," Ro said into the microphone, and crowd's cheers grew impossibly louder. "We can go backstage if you need a few minutes to calm down. We've got all night."
Jackie twisted the skin of her arm through her cardigan, and the pain felt real. If this weren't a dream, then Degenerate Matter's presence had an explanation. She edged her way through the crowd, toward the right side of the stage. A group of screaming, crying models blocked her path. She strode forward regardless, shoving models aside, but could go no farther.
The area beside the stage was clear of people, thanks to a metal barrier. In the wall beyond the barrier, though, was a lit alcove occupied by her mom and Ann-Marie.
"What do you mean you got a phone call?" her mom shouted
"Steven Hyde himself asked to play this event, darling. I couldn't say no."
Nate hit the the bass drum a few times, barely audible, and Ro laughed. "All right," she said into the microphone, "since you rich, privileged scunners seem intent on shouting, I'll just talk over you."
Laughter thickened the air, but Pam's voice rose above it. "What about Ecliptic? Couldn't they have at least opened? Where are they?"
"Degenerate Matter refuses to play with them," Ann-Marie said. "Do you understand how huge this is for Wintry? The GRAMMYs, O. MacNeil's reveal—the timing is beyond perfect."
"Before we do anything else," Ro said, and Jackie glanced back at the stage, "how many of you know why you're here? I don't mean metaphysically. Do you have any idea what this party is about?"
Hoots and hollers came from the crowd but no answers came that Jackie could discern.
"Why weren't Anders and I informed?" Pam said.
Ann-Marie primped her chignon, as if trying to affect an air of boredom. "Ecliptic was paid handsomely for their silence. Degenerate Matter is playing for free. It's win-win, darling."
"We're here to celebrate Jackie's birthday," Ro said. "I bet more than three-quarters of you don't know who that is."
Her statement was met with more collective laughter. The fashion insiders, corporate CEOs, and investors seemed oblivious that she was baiting them, burning them. Doing what Jackie herself had planned to.
"But she's important to us," Ro continued, "so you can thank her for what you're about to hear."
The white noise of applause and cheers returned, along with, "Thank you, Jackie!" shouted by random people in the crowd.
"All Ecliptic cares about is money, not music," Ann-Marie said.
Pam's back was facing Jackie, but her expression was easy to imagine: narrowed eyes, bared bottom teeth.
"They're just like you, darling," Ann-Marie went on. "Let's not make this a scene, shall we? Enjoy the show."
She left Pam in the alcove. A security guard moved the metal barrier, and Jackie pushed back through the models. She had to get away before Ann-Marie or her mom spotted her.
"Okay—" Ro strummed a chord on her guitar—"so you might have noticed someone's missing. Lee wanted to be here, but his wrist had other ideas." People in the crowd booed. "Don't go off your heads, lassies and laddies. We've got another badass guitarist to take his place tonight."
Jackie stashed herself behind a heavyset man, a member of the press. A notepad was sticking from his trouser pocket, and a camera was slung around his neck.
"From Wildebeest," Ro said, "Scotty Roxx!"
Scotty walked onstage with a guitar strapped to his back, and Jackie's blood cells crashed into one another. He waved at the crowd, and a few jeers punctured the ballroom's applause. These people knew him—but not like Jackie knew him. To them, he was the lead guitarist of a defunct hair-metal band.
To her, Scotty Roxx was her ex-husband.
Halfway through Degenerate Matter's set, Hyde left the relative safety of backstage. His hair was stuffed into a San Francisco Giant's cap, with the bill facing forward. A pair of glasses obscured his face. The lenses were clear glass and square-shaped. A basic disguise, but it would be enough. This crowd was too into the band to give him more than a second's glance.
He waded through the first few rows in front of the stage. He'd hoped to find Jackie, but she had to be watching from farther away. Expanding his search wasn't feasible. The effort had already put a strain on his right calf, on the cut Charleston Hiver had given him. And the packed ballroom was immense. He'd have a better chance spotting her from the stage.
The band was tearing through "Nobody's Dog". Scotty shredded the hell out of the solo, and the crowd swallowed it whole. He shouldn't have been nervous about playing this gig. His record with Lee was selling well since its release last month. They'd done a bunch of well-received club shows. If Scotty wanted to get beyond his hair-metal days, all he had to do was go forward.
Hyde ditched the baseball cap and glasses once he returned backstage. He drank a cup of hot lemon tea with honey, provided by the Wintry Hotel staff. His throat was less raw than it had been lately. He'd abstained from smoking since the GRAMMYs. His voice needed to be in as good as shape as possible. Jackie deserved it, just like her birthday deserved a real celebration.
"We've got one last song for you tonight," Ro said, somewhat out of breath, "and we're gonna do it right … with more than a little help from Steven Hyde."
Hyde dashed onto the stage, patting Scotty's back on his way to Ro. The crowd greeted him with far more excitement than he expected, but only one person in it was important to him. "Jackie," he said into Ro's mic, "we ain't playin' this one without you."
Shouts for Jackie rippled through the ballroom, but Jackie didn't materialize. She should have. Hyde had delivered a big fuck-you to the people who hurt her, lodging shrapnel that would be felt for months. She was savvy enough to get that, to understand he couldn't let her be the bomb.
Jackie was hyperventilating into a roll of toilet paper. She'd locked herself inside a bathroom stall, having given the bathroom attendant a fifty-dollar bill and the commandment: "Don't bother me."
The porcelain toilet had no lid, but she sat on the open seat. Her lungs, heartbeat, and thoughts were in a race to kill her. So far, her thoughts were winning. Steven likely wasn't aware that Scotty—Ralph—was her ex-husband. But if Ralph had talked about their relationship with him, using her name, then Steven was a total fraud.
She refused to believe that.
Ralph, however, might've known this event was for her. He wasn't supposed to see her again. That was part of their deal. In exchange, she'd let him forget what he'd done.
Her once-perfect nose brushed against the toilet-paper roll. The curve he'd given it never let her forget, and refusing plastic surgery to fix it was a matter beyond principle. Beyond rebelling against her mom's advice and facelifts. The damage Ralph had done couldn't be erased by a scalpel. It was inside her.
She touched her stomach as it expanded and contracted with her breath. Steven couldn't learn about that loss, not that one.
"Jackie?" Brie's voice echoed in the bathroom, and she knocked on the door of Jackie's stall. "Jackie, the bathroom attendant gave you up. You can stop the melodrama now."
Jackie squeezed her eyes shut. Her lips and fingers were tingling. She fumbled in her purse for her Valium bottle. She slipped a five milligram pill beneath her tongue. It would absorb into her system faster that way, before she passed out from panic.
"You're missing out on a very cool moment," Brie said. "Two of your exes are onstage together! You need to see it."
Jackie needed to get home. Steven had dismantled her social suicide, but driving in this condition was too dangerous.
Brie knocked on the stall again. "The band's waiting for you. It has one more song to play."
"Tell the band to play without me." A bit of dissolving Valium landed on top of Jackie's tongue. It was bitter, but she swallowed it down. "I'm leaving."
"You sure as hell aren't." Brie slid herself beneath the stall door, in what had to be a pricey couture gown. She stood up but didn't check over her dress. "Holy shit—you're a mess."
She tried to take the toilet-paper roll from Jackie, but Jackie swatted at her and inhaled through the roll.
"This can't be about Ralph," Brie said, and Jackie nodded. "Come on. I see my ex-husband from time-to-time, and I don't lose it."
"Because your ex didn't break your nose for having a miscarriage," Jackie craved to say, but she'd received enough invalidation from her mom about it. Gaining more would be an excessive amount of torture.
Uninvited, Brie brushed a strand of Jackie's hair behind her ear. "Let me help you. I can clean you up. If anything, you'll show your ex he has no power over you." When Jackie didn't move from the toilet, Brie said, "Degenerate Matter came here for you, amid the media circus surrounding it. You're obviously important to the band. Prove how important the band is to you."
The Valium hadn't kicked in yet, but Jackie lowered the toilet-paper roll from her mouth. Steven was risking himself for her tonight. Ro Skirving and Degenerate Matter were, too. Regardless of Brie's intentions, she'd spoken the truth. Jackie had to show Steven and the band her gratitude, despite Ralph's presence, and she let Brie lead her from the stall.