"Forget it. I'm not fucking doing it."
Eddie Munson sat in his studio, fiddling with his guitar. His drummer, Bart, looked between manager and lead guitarist nervously. Gareth, his bassist, sighed heavily, as though he'd heard this conversation far too many times. But Eddie refused to look at his manager, Vixie Calloway, who smoked her cigarette in irritation. Vixie chain smoked like it was her job, but his stubbornness on this was not helping.
"Eddie, for Christ's sake, be reasonable," She leaned against the wall. She was beautiful in her own way, with dark hair often molded into spikes and smoke colored eyes. Eddie had known her for years.
"Corroded Coffin's last album fucking tanked. Two years ago you were playing at the Garden, now I can barely get venues to call me back. The music industry is about evolution. Welcome to 1990, baby, it's time for a change."
"You want me to completely sell out," He accused, his fingers twiddling the knobs on his guitar. "Betray the sanctity that is Corroded Coffin. Throw away everything we worked for. Well, you can forget it. I'd rather go back to playing at dive bars than destroy the band."
Bart and Gareth looked at each other, as though they weren't quite sure they were ready to follow suit. Vixie smoked her cigarette harder, making it appear that literal smoke was coming out of her nostrils.
"This would not be selling out, you idiot!" She snapped. "Musicians are chameleons. They evolve with the times. The Beatles tried for new sounds every era, Madonna is constantly reinventing herself, hell, when the Glass Spider tour didn't go great for Bowie, he started Tin Machine."
"We are not the Beatles, or Madonna, or Bowie," Eddie replied, as though the comparison amounted to sacrilege. "We play metal. We play heavy metal and we do not compromise on our sound."
"Heavy metal is making two paths here," Vixie started to tap her foot, like she needed another cigarette (though she was already halfway through her third.) "They're going underground and getting real fucking weird-or they're toning it down. Look at Metallica. They're fucking mainstream now, and it's because they changed shit up and recorded with Bob Rock and now they're blowing up. So you tell me, boys. You wanna start playing detuned guitars at underground dives or do you want to be the next Metallica?"
There was a long silence as Eddie contemplated. Vixie was right, Metallica had mellowed out their sound—just a little bit—for mainstream consumption. And the gamble had worked. He stuck out his lower lip and tuned his high E string.
"What did you have in mind?" Gareth asked finally.
Vixie smiled at this slight concession. "Nothing that's going to interfere with your lyrics or your music," She promised. "I just want to add another vocalist."
Eddie's brow furrowed. "Another lead vocal?"
"Specifically a female vocalist."
There was another dead silence.
"Think about it," Vixie raised her hands before they could object. "Just think about it. The contrast of a female voice against metal is good. It's already taking off in Europe and Japan. We can get in on that. It's fresh, it's original, and it maintains your guys' sound and lyrics."
Gareth frowned. "I dunno…"
"What girl would want to thrash anyway?" Bart muttered.
"Hey," Vixie said sharply. "Vixen, the Runaways, Saraya, and Precious Metal are doing just fine without your dick, Bart. And I already have a couple vocalists in mind."
"It's gonna ruin the sound," Gareth whined.
"It's not gonna ruin the sound you chauvinist prick, it's gonna make it better, it's gonna make your damn records sell," Vixie snapped. "Munson. I found you guys in fucking Muncie, Indiana—"
"Hawkins, Indiana," Eddie corrected.
"Whatever. But have I ever steered you wrong? I got you gigs, I got your first album airplay, I made you money," Vixie's gray eyes flashed. "I have never once bullshitted you. I told you if a song sucked or not. I'm telling you now you are losing star power. And this is the way to get it back."
Eddie groaned and banged his head against the wall. "What lead singers are you thinking?"
"Tabitha Riley—"
"No way," Eddie immediately interjected. "She's been a groupie for years."
"So what?" Vixie challenged. "She can fucking sing."
"She hooked up with Bart a couple years back," Eddie retorted. "That's the other problem with having a woman in the band…"
"All right, all right, I see your point," Vixie pulled out a notepad and crossed off a name. "But you all better manage to keep your dicks in your pants when we do choose her. The last thing we need is to pull a damn Fleetwood Mac when we're still getting our sea legs. How about Natalie Gross? She plays decent guitar and she just left Chain Mail Rabbits. They've opened for you guys before."
Natalie was a possibility. But Eddie knew that Gareth had a huge crush on Natalie…but Gareth was shy, didn't nearly have as many notches on his belt as Bart did, or Eddie for that matter…
"Maybe Natalie," Eddie conceded. "Anyone else?"
Here Vixie hesitated. "Okay—I gotta wild card on this next one, but I also think she's the best. This is when you remember that my instincts have never been wrong."
Gareth and Bart looked at her suspiciously. Eddie, however, was intrigued. Vixie's instincts in the music business were somewhat legendary and her hesitation only meant that her last pick was someone truly outrageous.
"This singer is still finding her way, figuring out her genre," Vixie cleared her throat. "She's opened for a lot of great musicians."
"Like who?" Bart wanted to know.
Vixie cleared her throat. "Kate Bush. Lucinda Williams. And er…Dolly Parton."
"Dolly Parton?!" Gareth spluttered. "You want a fucking country western singer to be our lead singer?!"
"I didn't say she was country western!" Vixie retorted. "Just that she's opened for some. And look, they may not be your thing, but Dolly and Lucinda are great fucking musicians, okay? And Kate Bush is in her own league—"
"Forget it!" Bart thundered. "You made it out like we were getting the next Jan Kuehnemund, and your pick is—is—"
"Chrissy Blackheart," Vixie snapped. "That's her stage name. Chrissy Cunningham is her real name—and she came from Muncie, Indiana too, so stop being judgy little bitches."
"Hawkins," Gareth grumbled. "We're from Hawkins, Indiana, Vixie!"
"Did you say Chrissy Cunningham?"
They all stopped in place to turn and look at Eddie. He had the most peculiar expression on his face.
"Yeah," Vixie replied. "You know her?"
Eddie scratched the back of his neck. "I think she went to my high school."
His tone was far too casual and Vixie looked at Gareth and Bart for explanation. Bart shrugged—he was from Dallas and did not share Gareth and Eddie's hoosier roots.
"Oh," Vixie considered this information. "So you know her then."
"I don't," Eddie said a little too quickly. "I think I sold her drugs once. But I didn't know she got into music."
Vixie shrugged this bit of information away. "Whatever. You've all said no to Tabitha, you've seen Natalie play, now I want you guys to come see Chrissy play. She's headlining at a place called Valhalla. I've already called her manager and they know we're coming. She's very interested in joining up."
"She is?"
There it was again, that strange expression on Eddie Munson's face. Vixie was sharper than most and she knew there was more going on in that curly head than he was letting on.
"Yeah," She said shortly. "So I want you all there. Valhalla. Saturday night. 9:00PM. Capiche?"
Gareth and Bart grumbled mutinously but assented. Eddie nodded vaguely, his thoughts elsewhere.
Valhalla was an older bar in Midtown, Manhattan, a little too close to the more famous bar McGee's. But it had its regulars and Eddie was impressed at the giant statue of a topless Viking woman that overlooked the small stage. He took a seat at the bar closest to the stage, ordering one of their ales on tap, while Gareth and Bart parked themselves at a table nearby. Eddie looked over to see Vixie chatting with an older balding man in a lavender polo. Chrissy's manager, presumably.
Would she remember him?
It was doubtful. It had been four years since he met her in the clearing at the back of the
school, selling her weed at severely discounted prices. She'd requested something stronger for hallucinations and he'd sold her Special K at his trailer later that night. She'd actually passed out that night; crashed on his couch. He remembered every detail like it had just happened.
But then again…he was the lead of Corroded Coffin. Vixie was right, they weren't flying off the shelves at the moment, but they'd started out strong.
His fingers twitched. 9:02PM. She'd be on any moment now. And she'd surely see him.
He took a fortifying sip of his drink. He was being ridiculous. It had been four years. Why was he acting like a nervous middle schooler? She wasn't the head cheerleader anymore. He wasn't the burnout head of the D&D club. He was a semi-professional musician. She needed him, not the other way around.
"Everyone, please welcome to the stage…the enigmatic Chrissy Blackheart!"
The MC's voice jolted him out of his thoughts. He looked towards the stage…and there she was.
She wore an off the shoulder white dress that sparkled in the stage lights. Her hair was longer, no longer up in its cheerleader high ponytail, but cascaded down her shoulders. A starry crown set off her hair, making her look like some sort of cosmic angel. She flashed a smile at the small crowd and went to the microphone.
"Hi everyone!" She greeted them happily. "Thank you so much for having me. I just finished up a tour with Kate Bush and I gotta say guys, I think I've peaked."
Her crowd laughed and she picked up a pink and silver Stratocaster Fender guitar. She closed her eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, and strummed a bit.
"So as a thank you to Kate, I hope you'll indulge me on this one!" She started the opening riff. Eddie recognized it immediately. "Running Up That Hill", one of Kate Bush's most famous songs.
It doesn't hurt me,
Do you wanna feel how it feels?
Do you wanna know, know that it doesn't hurt me?
Do you wanna hear about the deal I'm making?
And just like that, Eddie knew exactly what Vixie meant. Chrissy's voice was haunting—he could hear the influences of Kate Bush in every high note. She almost sounded like an opera singer.
You, It's you and me…
In an instant, her eyes met his. He thought he was imagining it, but it almost seemed like her blue eyes widened a bit.
And if I only could
I'd make a deal with God
And I'd get him to swap our places
Be running up that road
Be running up that hill
Be running up that building…
He noticed her fingers fumble against the strings of her guitar. She wasn't bad by any means, only decent. But he could more than make up for that…and her voice was strong enough that her audience didn't notice the guitar errors.
She finished the song and the bar cheered raucously. She beamed at them all and started on her next—an original, something called Enchantment in the Woods. Eddie listened hard to the lyrics. She was a good songwriter too—a little raw, but that could so easily be honed.
On her second verse, her eyes met his again and her cheeks went pink. He wasn't imagining it. She recognized him.
"This is Pete," Vixie introduced Chrissy's manager to the members of Corroded Coffin. "Chrissy's manager. Pete, this is Eddie Munson, Bart McKinnon, and Gareth Finnerty—lead guitar, drummer, and bassist."
"It's great to meet you," Pete shook each of their hands. "Chrissy is over the moon that you all showed up. Shared roots, and all that."
Vixie glanced at Eddie. "Yeah, I think Eddie said something about Chrissy going to his high school?"
"Really?" Pete's eyes widened. "She never mentioned that to me."
That didn't sound promising. Perhaps Eddie had imagined that moment during her show, when their gaze met and…it had felt like nothing else in the world mattered.
"Ah, here's our lady of the hour!" Pete greeted behind Eddie's shoulder. "Chrissy!"
He looked over his shoulder and there she was. Like some sort of ethereal angel, her cheeks glowing and her forehead shiny with exertion. She waved at them and made her way to the bar. Pete handed her a glass of red wine and she took a deep sip.
"Hello, Corroded Coffin!" She smiled at all of them and then her attention rested on Eddie. "Hi, Eddie."
He suddenly felt like the wind had been knocked out of him.
"You do know him!" Vixie exclaimed.
"Of course!" Chrissy couldn't stop staring at him. "I knew him way back when. Though…" She tilted her head. "He probably doesn't remember me."
Eddie found his voice. "Of course, I remember the Queen of Hawkins High."
She wrinkled a little bit at that but giggled. Vixie glanced between the two of them, suddenly nervous.
"I'm gonna grab Eddie for a sec," She said suddenly. "Chrissy, you want another glass of wine? Put it on my tab." She grabbed Eddie's arm and yanked him away from the group, pulling him outside the bar.
"What the fuck, Vixie?" Eddie yelped.
"Have you two fucked?" She demanded.
"What?!"
"I mean it, Munson, you better tell me now, because I am not signing her on if this is—"
"I have not fucked her," Eddie's voice rose in pitch. "We just know each other a little from high school. That is it."
She glared at him suspiciously. "Then why are you looking at her all moonstruck?"
"I am not!"
Vixie groaned. "Goddammit, we should've gone with Natalie…" She signed, leaning against the doors. "But she's phenomenal, right?"
Eddie shrugged. "Her guitar playing could use work."
"She won't need to play guitar if she joins the band, you idiot. I meant her voice. Don't lie to me, I saw you staring at her like a dead fish." She mimicked a gaping open mouth.
He folded his arms defiantly. "Her songs could use work."
"Oh, good thing we've got a band full of talented songwriters," Vixie retorted sarcastically. "Eddie, I'm serious about her. I think she's just what the doctor ordered. But if you're lying to me or there's some kind of history…"
"There is no history," Eddie insisted. "Look—if the guys are cool with her, then I am too. Sign her on. I've always trusted your instincts."
"Yeah, well," Vixie grumbled. "Right now my instincts are saying that you're head over heels for this girl and it's gonna be a nightmare for me to—"
The doors of the bar opened and Chrissy Cunningham peeked out. "Hi—I'm so sorry to interrupt, but Pete wanted to ask you a couple things contractually related?"
Vixie sighed. "Right." Without another word to Eddie, she blazed passed him and entered the bar. Eddie watched her go, taking a cigarette out of his jacket and lighting up moodily.
"Can I bum one?"
He looked at Chrissy in surprise. "You smoke?"
"Not often," She admitted. "It's not good for my voice. But maybe I just want an excuse to catch up." She grinned at him mischievously and he felt his heart rise up in his throat. He handed her a cigarette and leaned forward, lighting it for her. She smelled like apples and cinnamon.
"Well, Chrissy Cunningham," Eddie said finally. "You rocked up there. Seems like you're doing really well for yourself."
"Thanks, I've been lucky," Chrissy took a small puff on the cigarette. "I'm—I'm so glad you came to see me, Eddie. And that you're even thinking about having me sign on."
"Do you really want to?" He asked her seriously. "Because—look, Vixie is a smooth talker, but metal doesn't seem like your style. And I think you'd do awesome if you went at it alone."
She smiled at him. "I appreciate that. And I know it's a risk. But music is all about evolution. And I love pushing myself into different genres and styles. And I'd…well…"
Chrissy blushed. "Do you—do you remember when you said I should come see you play at the Hideout? Back in high school?"
Only every minute of every day. "Sure."
"I actually did come and see you."
Eddie nearly swallowed his cigarette. "What?!"
She nodded. "After that night when I passed out at your place. I came the next Tuesday."
He stared at her in shock. "But—you didn't—I—"
"I was…so embarrassed about what happened that night," Chrissy said softly. "I didn't have the nerve to go see you. I just…hid in the back. But I saw you play 'Master of Puppets' and I was just…amazed. You looked so…free."
She took another drag while Eddie frantically tried to remember everything about that night. Why hadn't she told him? Why had she hid?
"And I just wanted to say…that night was the reason I got into music," She stared up at him levelly. "You—you inspired me. I wanted to do what you did, just playing your heart and soul out, till your fingers bleed and your voice is raw—it's all I wanted. That's why when Vixie contacted Pete, I said yes. That's why I want to join Corroded Coffin."
The bar doors opened again and Vixie poked her head out. "Hey kids. We got some papers to sign…"
"Okay," Chrissy said agreeably, flicking away the stub of her cigarette. She stretched up on her toes and kissed Eddie's cheek.
"I really want this," She said softly. "Believe me."
She retreated back into Valhalla and Vixie shot Eddie a dangerous look. It said, quite clearly, If you fuck this girl and break up the band because of it, I will disembowel you.
Eddie finished his cigarette. He was in serious trouble.