Chapter Ten – Find The Music

"You make it look so easy," Rochelle complained.

"Will you just concentrate on what I'm showing you?" Jessie snapped, and Rochelle sighed. Jessie was a real slave driver over the dance and wasn't giving up without a fight.

"I'm tired," Rochelle whined and Jessie huffed.

"Tough. You wanted to learn the dance, so you're gonna learn it."

Rochelle was aghast. "My leg hurts," she protested. Jessie leaned across and smacked the blonde's elbow hard.

"Ow!" Rochelle whimpered, rubbing her arm. "What was that for?"

Jessie grinned. "Now your arm hurts worse than your leg." Rochelle pouted, looking away. That much was true, at least.

"If my agent was here," Jessie heard her say, and the cowgirl turned.

"I'm sorry, who is this agent you keep going on about?"

"Oh someone I wouldn't expect a ordinary toy like you to have heard of. Dolls like me, we have a career to maintain, so of course I need a agent."

Jessie understood suddenly. "You mean your agent gets you your performances?"

Rochelle nodded brightly, "Sure thing."

"And he...booked you here?"

"Yeah." Rochelle wrinkled her nose and looked around the playroom. "I know I have to start off with small audiences, and it's not so bad. But I'm hoping to move onto bigger and better things after my stint in the club is done."

Jessie blinked. "I'm sorry. Club?

"Sure. This is quite a big club. I mean, you have outside facilities," Rochelle motioned to the window, "and you have this main room which is quite cluttered as I would expect it to be, you have a very plush TV suite downstairs, and then you have the studio next door," she went on referring to the oom where she did her 'rehearsals' every morning. Jessie stared at Rochelle for so long the blonde haired doll got quite befuddled. "What are you looking at?

"You!" Jessie burst out. "You think you're a real rockstar?"

"Well, duh," Rochelle pointed at her mic which was lying on the floor not far from them. "I do have a microphone. And I can dance."

"To a tape."

"Sure, everyone can dance to a tape, whats the problem."

"But they're pre selected tracks. You dance to pre selections."

"Mmhmm."

"So if I was to put something on the radio now...you couldn't dance to it?"

Rochelle laughed. "Don't be silly. I only dance to what I've been trained to dance to."

Jessie was silent for a moment, then perked up. "Just a minute. I need to go and find the western track on the CD." She jumped down, and Rochelle laid down wearily, rubbing her temples with her fingers as she mused to herself.

After a few minutes she heard Jessie coming back up the desk, and sat up in a hurry, pretending to be stretching. Jessie made the top of the desk, and it was then that Rochelle realised the stereo was playing some kind of western music she didn't recognise.

"Ooh, this is funky, I didn't realise this was in my track listing!" She gasped, jumping up. "I feel like I could dance to this."

Jessie laughed. "This is that cowboy track you couldn't find, remember?"

"Wow, THIS is western music? This is something I could get into!" Rochelle said enthusiastically. "How did that dance go again?" She asked, and Jessie started her demonstration again. Within half a hour Rochelle had the basic dance mastered.

"Wow! I feel so pumped up," Rochelle laughed as Jessie hopped down again to stop the CD. She looked across at Rochelle on the desk and smiled all over her pretty cowgirl face. It was nice to feel useful again at last.

That night Rochelle took a deep breath. "I don't know if I can do this again, Jessie." They'd been practising most of the afternoon and Rochelle had been a very good learner. It had taken a little more time for the more difficult steps to take root in her ability, but she'd gotten them down pat, and Jessie had eased off on her, she noticed. They were under the bed, getting ready for Rochelle's performance.

"Sure you can." Jessie rearranged Rochelle's collar so it lay perfectly flat. "Now go knock 'em dead, blondie."

Rochelle glanced at Jessie. "Why do you call me that?"

Jessie exhaled. "I don't know. Old habits die hard, and all that."

Rochelle gave a small smile. "I don't mind it. Beats all that mushy 'babe' and 'girl' nonsense." She noticed Jessie's faraway look. "Jessie?"

Jessie came back to earth. "I'm sorry, what were you saying," She asked, clearing her throat.

"I was talking about pet names."

"Ah. Right." Jessie was silent.

"It's Buzz, isn't it?"

Jessie nodded sadly. "I miss him, Rochelle. We broke up." She closed her eyes and pursed her lips, trying to hold back a sob. Rochelle put her hands on the cowgirl's shoulders.

"Shh, its ok." She soothed, and Jessie sniffed, opening her eyes. "I saw you two in the TV lounge the other night."

"You did?" Jessie's eyes widened and Rochelle nodded.

"I didn't hear what went on, but I saw enough to get the emotional factor of it. Especially when you ran right past me."

"You were there all the time?"

"I didn't want to interrupt. I know I didn't make things easier that day on the shelves. I was just winding Buzz up. I tend to overdo it though, and I'm sorry. Once I get caught up in the emotion of a moment, I'm done for."

Jessie tipped her head to one side slightly, and Rochelle sighed. "I'm a musically emotional person. That's why I get so caught up in my music. Unfortunately outside of the music I can feel the emotions of others too. I got caught up in Woody and Buzz's attentions, played them both, and I could sense how you felt from the beginning even thought I tried to put a brave face on it. And also without meaning to, my music reflects my personal life. Like a true artiste."

Jessie was surprised. "So everything is meaningless without the music?" She asked, and Rochelle nodded.

"What's a life without music? You just have to find that music."

"I think I did already," Jessie said slowly, and Rochelle glanced at her. "But it wasn't music. It was someone who made me feel like yodelling everytime I looked at him." She was silent once more for a few minutes, before she composed herself, shaking her shoulders, and held her chin up. "But enough of that." She said firmly. "You go out there and make me proud. Give me a reason to find my own music again."

"Okay." Rochelle regarded the upset cowgirl for a moment, before lifting the blanket and walking out into the room.

Rochelle's western dance went off without a hitch. She remembered every step of the dance, even the complicated part at the end. And the applause she had received had made her so overcome she had fled the stage without a word, much unlike her usual self. She felt respected and loved, almost her own little version of famous.

And she had Jessie to thank for it.