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Sausalito, California

Stormer released the keys, and the final chord of the melody began to decay. The hall, once filled with music, was immediately replaced by the roar of the crowd at song's end. She loved this part of the show, but before she could revel in the energy, she was blinded when the all of the lights on stage flickered off. She fumbled her way to center stage. Her arm brushed against the warm brass of Jetta's saxophone when she passed her. Looking down at her feet, she smiled in relief and silently thanked whoever had the forethought to install dimmer lights in the baseboards along the walkway.

An involuntary yelp escaped Stormer's lips when something hard poked her in the back, and she turned out of the way of the guitar head. The big white hair of the person holding it was relatively easy to make out in the darkness. "Watch it, Roxy!"

"Stormer?" Roxy reached out. "I can't see."

"Don't worry." Stormer took her pale hand. "I've got you."

Stormer led Roxy to the backstage area, trailing behind Jetta and their lead singer Pizzazz. The security detail escorted them to their dressing rooms. The door's close at their ingress did nothing to abate the endless sounds of applause. Stormer took off her dress, and a team of assistants tended to her. She towelled the sweat off her skin and joined the rest of her bandmates. She closed her eyes as one set of hands blow dried her hair while another massaged the joints in her wrists and fingers.

The din of the dryer had died down by the time Stormer's eyes became accustomed to the lighting. She opened them and rested her gaze on Pizzazz, who was drinking her usual elixir of spring water and lime when the stage manager approached her. Stormer couldn't hear what they were saying across the room, but judging by the way that the manager was pointing at his watch, she surmised that they went over their time again. She snorted in amusement knowing that Pizzazz was in no position to hear them in earnest, not when they were all caught up in the rush of hearing their fans chant their nom de bande:

"Misfits! Misfits! Misfits!..."

Pizzazz finished her drink, waved off her subordinates, and she stood up tall, saying, "The show isn't over until I say it's over."

Stormer knew that that was her cue to stand up. Roxy and Jetta followed suit, and more assistants arrived to provide them all with raiment appropriate for an encore. A rack full of couture dresses was wheeled in front of her. Stormer arched an eyebrow when she noticed that they were all the same color—although the designs were varied. She thought it odd, until she saw that the others got a similar treatment, with the colors matching each of their unique hairstyles:

Pizzazz promptly slid her emerald piece over her head. It sparkled under the lights as it fell in place over her thin frame. She twisted the buckle on the gaudy designer belt tied loosely around her waist. All the while Stormer eyed the green gems embedded in the leather. I wouldn't be surprised if those were real emeralds.

Stormer couldn't help but snigger when Jetta sent back her rack and demanded another. Apparently none of the selections matched with her black and gold saxophone. At this rate, she'll end up going on stage wearing nothing at all.

Stormer felt like a new woman with the cerulean dress draped over her body. Her eyes widened as her hands followed the twin beads of topaz sewn along the seam. Blushing, she tried in vain to pull the hemline down another inch. I'm glad my brother isn't in the audience tonight.

Roxy, on the other hand, didn't mind showing off her body in her ivory number. Her's had a circular midriff cut out, exposing her belly. However, her skin was so pale that it was hard to differentiate her bare tummy from the surrounding fabric. Her dress was just as short as Stormer's, but she opted to coordinate it with knee high leather boots that complemented her toned legs. Stormer pouted as she watched her pose in the mirror. Why didn't I think of that?

Jetta had finally decided on, or more likely settled for, a chic bubble-sleeved dress with fishnet stockings. The gold frills that lined the bottom of her obsidian mini swayed in unison as she slid her dainty feet into her Mary Jane style pumps.

They left the dressing room. Stormer took her place beside Jetta at the edge of the stage. She impatiently tapped her fingers at the base of her keytar, waiting for the announcer's call. All the while Roxy's overriding voice could be heard cursing out the stage hand who was responsible for shutting all the lights off earlier. The band's entrance onto the platform was met by the approval of the audience. The spotlight followed the four musicians as they made their way to the marker usually reserved for the lead singer. Stormer loved to improvise with B-side material. Performing on the fly in a live concert was a welcome challenge because, for one thing, it meant they would have to play close together. This was when Stormer felt like she was truly a part of The Misfits rather than a glorified backup vocalist. In this venue, they spoke to each other as equals in the language of music.

Pizzazz nodded in Roxy's direction, for tonight was her turn to start the set. Roxy brushed her white hair aside, and with deliberation she plucked three chords on her bass guitar, each one more baritone that the last. The speakers reverberated the air in the hall; bits of dried plaster from the ceiling above settled onto the stage—asbestos-laced snowflakes. With a gleam in her eye, she changed the key and ripped into a run, her fingers gliding across the neck of her instrument.

Jetta jumped in on cue. Her piercing syncopating melody was the perfect complement to Roxy's smooth bass rhythm.

Of course, Stormer was no slouch, herself. Whenever Jetta's Sax posed a question, her keytar had an answer with its erudite dulcet tones.

Pizzazz was a good guitarist in her own right. However, it was her vocals that put the icing on the cake and served to be the glue for the competing harmonies.

Before Stormer knew it, the show was over, and they bowed out, hamming it up all the way in true Misfit fashion. Stormer couldn't wait to slip out of her shoes. Once inside the dressing room, she plopped into the chair next to Roxy and massaged the muscles in her legs. Her brow furrowed when she noticed that something was missing. "Where's the food cart?"

Roxy frowned. "No delivery tonight. Pizzazz is itching to leave now for some reason." She rose from here chair.

"Where are you going?" Stormer asked.

"Checking to see if the buffet is still open; I'm starving... You coming?"

Stormer's grumbling stomach was all the encouragement she needed to tag along. The distraction of their hunger made for a short trip to the buffet table. When they got there, Stormer prepared doggie bags for herself and the others while Roxy opted not to wait.

The walk back seemed to take much longer. The corridor leading to the limo was long and twisted. The dirty plaster on the walls was peeling and made odd shadows when cast in the lighting overhead. The only sound that could be heard, other than their footsteps, was Stormer's purse of goodies as it brushed against her leg. Roxy finished off the last of her deli sandwich and seemed to be in better spirits, so Stormer decided to break the silence:

"I noticed that you didn't smash you guitar onstage tonight."

Roxy shrugged. "Eric said he'd only pay for five this year, so I'm pacing myself."

"I liked your improv for the encore."

"Meh, it was okay."

Stormer playfully bumped Roxy in order to goad her out of her reticence. "Blues in E-flat? Swapping by the fours?"

She shrugged again. "If you say so. You know I just go by ear."

"Yeah, I know. I just find it curious given that it's in the same style as that demo I played for you last week. Does this mean that you're thinking about our little solo project?"

"I think you're looking too deeply into it," Roxy replied. "Is this why you're being so touchy-feely today?" She reached into the purse Stormer was carrying and pulled out the bag of corn chips reserved for Jetta.

Stormer promptly snatched the chips back. "You take that back. I am not touchy-feely."

Out of the corner of her eye, Roxy saw that Stormer was pouting, and she sighed. "Yes, I've been thinking about it."

Stormer's expression softened. "Good."

"As long as this isn't some kind of stunt to trick me into working with a Hologram."

"I would never do something so cruel. This single would just be me and you." She playfully poked Roxy's arm.

"Why didn't you ask your Hologram gal-pal Kimber to cut another album with you?" Roxy asked with a scowl. "Or does Pizzazz not want you working with her anymore?"

"Well, for one, this song that I've written is tailor made for your vocals. And besides, why should Pizzazz care if I work with Kimber again given that we're under a truce with the Holograms?"

Roxy's eyes narrowed. "Truce? What truce?"

Exasperated, Stormer replied, "You were standing right next to Pizzazz when she buried the hatchet with Jem at Bah-nee's going away party last year. Don't you remember?"

Roxy snorted. "Oh, that? That was just for the party. It wasn't meant to be permanent."

Stormer's pout returned. "You're not going start anything with them again are you? Now that my brother is getting serious with Aja, it's going to make Thanksgivings awkward enough."

"Well, picking on The Holograms has gotten boring. It just doesn't have the same zing that it used to," Roxy replied, flippantly. "So, I guess I can leave the hatchet buried."

Stormer smiled. She reached into her purse and proffered Jetta's bag of corn chips. "See there? You can be nice when you want to be—"

"You take that back." Roxy snatched the bag from her. "I am not nice."

"Yes, you are." Stormer put her arm around her shoulder, even though Roxy ignored her affections while she picked through the bag. "You do realize those are for Jetta, right?"

"Yeah," she replied, with her mouth full. "What's your point?"

Stormer was about to answer when a figure approached them from the other side of the hallway. It was obvious that he wasn't part of the crew as he was dressed in dirty, green rags. He lumbered in their direction, hugging the opposite wall and nursing a bottle of booze wrapped in a brown paper sack.

Where's security?

Her hand found her way around Roxy's arm. To her dismay, Roxy didn't once break stride and continued to push past the vagrant. Stormer stayed close behind her; she breathed a sigh of relief when he was out of earshot.

"Sheesh, they'll give a backstage pass to anyone these days," Roxy said.

Stormer felt more relaxed when they came within sight of the limousine. They were met at the door by Zipper—one of their manager's more shady cronies. They slid into the roomy backseat and sat on the other side of Pizzazz and Jetta. Pizzazz was flipping through the local TV stations. Jetta had her saxophone broken down in her lap so as to clean it as she never trusted anyone with her instrument, least of all the loading crew.

"Where have you two been?" Pizzazz said.

Roxy shrugged. "We got something to eat."

"I told you I wanted to get out of here."

"And I told you I was hungry."

Stormer sought to pre-emptively defuse the situation with, "Pizzazz, you know how cranky we get when we're hungry. We brought you some food too."

When Stormer placed the purse in the middle of the floor, Pizzazz and Jetta helped themselves. Stormer folded her arms and looked out the window as they drove off. Would it have killed them to say thank-you? Sometimes she wished they got along as well offstage as they did on.

Jetta grabbed a soda and chips, poking through the bag for a full minute, and she glared at Roxy. "Eh, now? What's the big idea?"

Stormer pinched her brow. Here we go again...

A wicked smile visited Roxy's lips. "Moi?"

"You picked out all the extra-cheesy ones."

"That's because I like the extra-cheesy ones."

"So do I, you daft cow!"

"Hey, I didn't say anything last week when you ate all the cherry popsicles and left only the green ones in the box—"

"That's because I don't like the green ones, yank."

"Nobody likes the green ones, fog breather!"

"I like the green ones—"

"Shut up, Stormer!" Jetta and Roxy said in unison.

Pizzazz clicked the TV off, seeing as how she couldn't hear it anyway. "How about you all shut up! You're ruining my buzz."

"But, Pizzazz, you haven't started drinking yet," Stormer replied with a grin.

"Exactly."

"Well, I think tonight calls for a special celebration to kick off this tour," Jetta proclaimed. "Especially considering how we kicked butt tonight."

"When do we not kick butt?" Roxy said, irritated by Jetta's hubris. Jetta merely rolled her eyes in response.

Pizzazz shook her head. "No party tonight; we're blowing this berg. I hate Sausalito. There's nothing to do here."

Roxy grinned. "Does it have anything to do with the total lack of cute straight guys to not do anything with?"

"Well, I just assumed otherwise since we're not heading back to the hotel," Jetta said.

Pizzazz's eyes lifted. Nonplussed, she quickly glanced out of the window to take note of their surroundings. "You're right. This isn't the way back." The irritation in her voice became apparent as she switched on the intercom. "Zipper! I told you to take us back to the hotel, you idiot!"

The driver did not answer right away. Pizzazz was about to lower the privacy glass when a voice responded:

"Relax. We're taking the scenic route."

"Scenic route, my ass! Turn this car around now!" Seeing that her order was ignored, she continued to push the other buttons on the control panel to no effect. "Zipper is so fired when we get out of here!"

"That wasn't Zipper: something about the voice isn't right," Roxy said, with an uncharacteristically pensive expression.

Jetta snorted nervously. "What are you babbling about?"

Pizzazz continued to click the buttons on the control panel to no avail. "Don't get all dramatic. We all saw Zipper very clearly when we got into the car."

"But, what if she's right," Stormer said. "What are we going to do?"

"I said don't get all dramatic. We've been in tougher scrapes, Misfits," Pizzazz said with resolve in her voice. It was times like this that she showed why she was their leader both on and off the stage. "We'll play it dumb for now and jump him when he lets us out. This is obviously Zipper's idea of a joke—a very unfunny joke."

Stormer appreciated Pizzazz's confidence. However, something about this new turn of events gave her pause. Pizzazz was indeed correct in that, as a group, the Misfits have fallen into many odd adventures, but this time felt different. Looking around the car at her bandmates, the apprehension in their manner, she knew that they felt it too. Lost in her thoughts, her hand clasped around Roxy's wrist.