"Charmed circle," Quinn sang to the cheering crowd. "Open the circle," responded Daria and Sandi in harmony even as Daria's guitar wailed over the interlocking beat of Sandi's bass and Jane's drums. They repeated the call-and-response for a couple more measures before rolling into the now-familiar band introductions.
"Jane Lane on drums," Quinn said as the guitar and bass parted to bring Jane's beat to the fore.
"Sandi Griffin on the bass." As always, Sandi didn't acknowledge her name or the crowd, but she did spit out a blizzard of notes that would have made Les Claypool proud.
"Daria Morgendorffer on lead guitar." Daria belted out crunching chords even as she turned toward her sister, saying, "And Baby Sister Quinn Morgendorffer hitting all the high notes!"
Quinn acknowledged her name with a half-smile, before turning back to the crowd. "Charmed circle," she sang again, and the music swelled to a crescendo. "We're GTS, and we love you. Good night!" With a crash, the music stopped, and another roar went up from the crowd.
During the outro, Daria had noticed a familiar face in the crowd, so as the Girls left the stage, she put a hand on Quinn's arm.
"I'm gonna be a few minutes," she said. "I think I saw someone I know in the crowd. Tell Jane and Sandi where I went. If I'm not back before the load-out, come get me."
Quinn smiled. "The last time you disappeared during the load-out, we got the steady gig at LL Wolf's out of it. I think we can cut you some slack."
"Thanks," Daria said, already turning. She scanned the crowd until she found the face she sought. "Well, I'll be," she said aloud as a familiar pair of eyes met hers and Jodie Landon came toward her.
"Daria!" said the pretty, dark-skinned girl. "It is you!"
"Hi, Jodie," Daria said with a wry smile. "Fancy meeting you here."
"Fancy seeing you on stage," Jodie said with a chuckle, as the people around them made a small space so they could talk. "I thought I was hallucinating when I saw you up there."
"I had kinda the same reaction when I noticed you in the crowd. Aren't you supposed to be in Virginia?"
"At Turner, you mean?" Jodie smiled, as Daria nodded. "I finished in three years, so now I'm keeping my part of the bargain with my father. I'm working on my MBA at Crestmore, and taking classes in public policy."
"Same old Jodie," Daria smiled.
"What about you? I can't believe you're in a band. And with your sister! That was Quinn, right?"
"In the flesh," Daria said. "I'm sure you remember the bassist and drummer, too."
"Then Jane is the drummer," Jodie said. "I thought so, but she was hard to see behind Quinn, and I couldn't hear the band introductions properly. The bassist looks familiar, too, but I can't place her."
"You remember Sandi Griffin?" Daria said, as nonchalantly as possible, and then worked hard to restrain a grin as Jodie's jaw dropped. "Yes, it's true. And no, I'm not crazy."
After a minute of shock, Jodie said, "There's gotta be a story there."
Daria nodded. "It's not as exciting as all that, but if you've got some time, I can tell it to you. I just have to help with the load-out first."
Jodie sighed and looked at her watch. "I'd love to, Daria," she said, "but I've got to run. I'm giving a presentation on Monday and I've still got tons of work to do."
Daria shook her head, a half-smile on her face. "Same old Jodie."
"Listen," Jodie said, rummaging in her purse and fishing out a card. "Here's my email address. Drop me a line during the week, and we'll get together."
Daria took the card, looking sheepish. "I'll try, but I've got a pretty busy week too."
Jodie laughed. "Not quite the same old Daria, huh?"
Daria shrugged. "Everyone changes." With a smile, she added, "I'll try to get in touch, but if I don't, we're here next Saturday and at LL Wolf's on Thursdays."
"Cool," Jodie said. "Hope to see you next week."
"Likewise," Daria said, as Jodie made her way through the crowd.
Her eyes followed Jodie's progress for a second before scanning for her bandmates. Finding them at the bar talking to a guy she didn't recognize, she quickly moved over to investigate. As she reached them, the guy got up and left. From what little she saw, he had a duck-tail haircut and at least one gold chain around his neck.
"What was that about?" she said to Quinn, who was nearest.
"Well," the redhead replied, "that guy who left just offered to be our manager."
"Manager?" Daria blinked, feeling a sudden stab of apprehension.
"Yeah," Jane added from over Quinn's shoulder. "He said he could get us more and better gigs."
"Isn't this a good gig?" Daria said.
"Of course," Jane said. "But we need to get more."
"And we're behind on our union paperwork," Sandi chimed in.
"I told you guys I'm going to take care of that on Monday," Daria said.
"Didn't you say the same thing last Monday?" Jane asked.
"I got called into work and I had a paper to finish," Daria snapped. She hated when the others nagged her about paperwork. She hated it more when they were right. "I'll get it done this week."
"Alright," Jane said. "As long as you're sure."
Daria drummed her fingers on the bar as she got her rising temper under control. Starting an argument in public right after a show was a bad idea, especially since she'd probably lose. Instead, she changed the subject. "What else did that guy say?"
"A bunch of bullshit," Jane said. "I stopped listening when he started to promise us the moon on a string. A manager would probably be a good idea, but that guy was just a sleaze."
"Yeah," Quinn added, with a laugh. "Did you see the gold chains and the leather pants? Who was he trying to fool?"
Sandi just shrugged, though her face wore a mocking half-smile.
Daria felt relieved. "Well, I'm glad we're not making any long-term career decisions here."
"Not tonight anyway," Jane said with a smirk. "So what did Jodie have to say, anyway?"
Daria didn't even bother asking how Jane knew. Her amiga had a way of surprising her every now and then. "Nothing much, just saying hello."
"That's good," Jane said. "For a second, I was worried you were going to tell me that she's our new manager."
Something in Jane's expression changed Daria's mood from relief to worry.
On the whole, Quinn was happy with the show that night, but she had a feeling that something weird had happened or was about to. When she'd said goodnight to Jane and went to bed, she'd expected, or at least homed, to fall right asleep, but her mind kept going in circles. She wasn't surprised that Daria was already getting weird and territorial at the mention of the word "manager." It was just like Daria to cling to doing those jobs, even though she was always bitching about how much she hated them.
Jodie turning up was a little weird, and Jane's reaction was also weird. Quinn had never had much use for Jodie, but she knew Daria liked the other girl, which she thought meant that Jane did too. But thinking about it now, something in Jane's voice or body language had said that Jodie popping up like that wasn't welcome at all. Quinn knew she'd have to think about it some more.
Sunday gave her no chance, though. Brunch had been crazy busy at work, and though she'd made almost twice as much as she usually did, her feet were killing her by the time she got home. Once there, she plowed through all the laundry and crap that she'd ignored for the whole week. Monday was eaten up with schoolwork. Daria, only a couple of weeks from graduation, was the only one with classes left, but Quinn and Jane both had final projects to finish. After a long day, she finally got home and was just getting comfortable when Jane blew into the apartment like a red and black hurricane.
"I swear I'm going to kill that sister of yours," she said, before Quinn could even say hello. "I called her to today to make sure she got the paperwork done and she wouldn't answer the phone."
"Maybe she was out getting it taken care of," Quinn said, raising her hands in what she hoped was a calming motion.
"She has a cell phone, Quinn," Jane said, teeth clenched, "which she also didn't answer. Why does she have to be so fucking stubborn?"
Quinn couldn't help but laugh at that. "Why are some girls prettier than others? Why is my hair so red? Why does the sun give off heat? Come on, Jane."
"Very funny, Quinn," Jane grumbled. "I'm serious. This is important shit, and Daria's ignoring me about it."
"You know she doesn't like people butting in to her projects. It'd be like if you asked to help with one of her songs."
Jane grimaced. "Yeah, she gets weird and possessive so easily. I mean, look at what happened last month. Sandi comes in with a song and next thing we've all but broken up because of Daria."
Quinn remembered it slightly differently—both she and Jane, but especially she, had played major roles in almost driving Sandi out of the band—but Jane's look said clear as day that she wouldn't like it if Quinn tried to correct her. Instead, she sighed and asked, "What's the big deal? We've left all this stuff to Daria before."
"I know," said Jane. She started pacing across the room, a sure sign of irritation. "But I don't like it. And I like it even less now that she's starting to fuck it up. If we don't get that paperwork in, the union's not gonna let us play, and we'll lose the gig at LL Wolf's."
"Do you want me to talk to her, Jane?" Quinn asked, trying to calm the other girl.
"What I want is to get a manager to take care of shit like this," Jane said. "Let Daria worry about songwriting and keeping Sandi under control, and let someone else worry about getting us better gigs and making sure our paperwork is done."
"We don't really have the money to pay a manager, Jane," Quinn said.
"We would if we started getting better gigs, which is what a manager is for."
"Wow." Quinn smiled. "That guy on Saturday made a better impression on you than I thought."
"Be serious, Quinn. That loser just wanted to get into someone's pants."
Quinn could feel her skin crawl at the thought of putting out for a guy like that. She was so busy getting rid of the mental picture that she missed what Jane said next. "What?"
"I said if you want to talk to Daria, go ahead. Make sure you tell her she makes a shitty manager." Scowling, she added, "I'm going to bed." Her door slamming made the perfect exclamation point.
The next day, Jane was up and out before Quinn woke. Quinn wasn't bothered, because she would see the drummer at rehearsal that night. Plus, Jane would probably still be in a bad mood for most of the day. "Let someone else deal with her for now," Quinn muttered, looking at her roommate's open bedroom door.
Once on campus, she finished up one of her remaining projects and got some work done on the other. Feeling pleased with herself, she headed over to Daria's around four. No one answered when she knocked, or when she rang the bell, so she pulled out her cell. After getting no answer from Daria's home number, Quinn lost her temper.
"Hello mystery lady," she snapped. "It's your wonderful sister who puts up with your shit more than you deserve. So answer the fucking phone and let us know you're alive so I can kill you myself."
She hit the disconnect button on her phone, feeling better for letter her anger out. Then. since she wasn't about to stand in front of her the apartment for the next two hours, she went shopping.
Jane had calmed down somewhat by the time she got to Daria's for practice. For one thing, she didn't like being mad at Daria, and for another, she knew that her friend was aware of her control issues and was working on them. So when Daria finally opened the door, she was prepared at least to be civil. "Hey, amiga," she said, "how's tricks?"
Daria shrugged. "Same as always."
"Anyone else here yet?" Jane asked as she followed Daria upstairs.
"Yeah," Daria said, over her shoulder. "Sandi got here a little while ago."
"Oh?" Jane said, as they emerged into the apartment. There was no sign of Sandi. "Where is she?"
"Downstairs," Daria said. "She's messing around with some new music."
Jane raised an eyebrow at that. Something odd was going on there, and she needed to find out about it, but she had more important things on her mind. "So did you get the paperwork in?"
Daria shrugged. "It's just about taken care of."
"Just about?" Jane tried to keep her voice level. "You said you'd have it all done yesterday."
"I know," Daria said. "I got stuck at the bank, and then Mike couldn't find the stuff I needed from him. By the time I got that taken care of, I had to come back here for rehearsal."
"You could have held up rehearsal, you know. I would have understood."
Daria shrugged. "I figured it wasn't that big a deal. I'll finish up tomorrow. I would have finished Monday if I hadn't spent the whole day wrestling with Murphy's Law."
"Not a big deal?" This time, she let her temper loose. "Daria, if we don't get the union stuff squared away, we may not get to play on Thursday. We might lose the gig at LL Wolf's! I'd say that's a pretty big fucking deal!"
"It will be taken care of, Jane." Daria said in her flattest monotone, which Jane knew meant that Daria was losing her temper too. "How many times do I have to tell you that before you're satisfied?"
"You don't have to tell me at all," Jane shouted. "You just have to do it! For fuck's sake, Daria, you're the one who's always pushing us to move faster, and if you fuck this up we might be back to square one."
"Well, excuse me for being busy. I don't know if you noticed, but along with the band, I have a job and I'm graduating college in two weeks, provided I can finish three papers and pass four finals before then. So if I slip up, I have some reasons."
"Cry me a river, Daria." The two of them were almost nose to nose, and Jane wasn't giving an inch. "You insist on taking everything on your shoulders, and you won't even take basket-weaving courses to make your life easier. I'm not going to buy into your martyr bullshit when you climbed up on the cross and drove in the nails yourself."
"Well, I don't see you climbing up here to help me down," Daria snapped. "What do you want from me, Jane?"
"I want you to admit you've taken on too much and accept that we need a manager."
A spasm of something crossed Daria's face, but before she could answer, the basement door opened and Sandi's head popped out. "Hey, Daria," she said, "I'm not sure that chord change you suggested is working." She trailed off as Jane turned to glare at her.
"We're busy, Sandi," she said.
"No we're not," Daria snapped. "I'm not getting into this with you right now, Jane." She turned and followed Sandi down the stairs, leaving an angry Jane gaping.
Torn between going downstairs to rip both Daria and Sandi a new one or storming out, Jane stood and seethed. Finally, the door opened behind her to reveal Quinn, a shopping bag in each hand and a cheerful expression on her face. Jane watched as the cheer on the redhead's face was replaced by worry. "Uh oh. Wrong apartment," she said and started to back away.
"Get over here, Quinn," Jane snapped.
"What did Daria do?" Quinn asked.
"How do you know it's not you I'm mad at?"
"You're wearing your 'Daria pissed me off again' face," Quinn said. "Sandi and I just get your normal angry face, no matter how much we piss you off. Daria doesn't piss you off as often, but when she does, you get about ten times madder and it shows." Jane grimaced, and Quinn added, "I'm not sure if it's a best friend thing or a Daria thing. Though I suppose it doesn't matter."
"Thank you for that useless sidelight, Quinn."
"So what did she do?" Quinn took a seat on an arm of the couch.
"She still hasn't gotten the union stuff done, and she blew me off for Sandi when I tried to call her on it."
Quinn shrugged. "She blew me off today, too. That's why I ended up going shopping." She held up the bags. "Wanna see what I bought?"
"I'd rather pull my own head off," Jane said. "What I want is to get Daria to admit she's wrong."
"And I want a complete Donna Karan wardrobe. Neither of us is going to get what she wants, though," Quinn said.
Jane felt her temper rising again. Getting mad felt almost good. "Is this how I look when I'm pissed at you, Quinn?"
"That's not going to help either," Quinn said. "Grab a beer or make yourself coffee or something and cool off. We can go down in fifteen minutes or so."
Jane really wanted to stay angry, but she knew Quinn was right, so she took the redhead's advice. Two beers later, she was ready to face the other half of the band, so she and Quinn headed downstairs. Daria and Sandi were facing each other, working on an intricate little guitar—bass riff. After a moment, they seemed to realize they had an audience and stopped. "Before we start, we'd like to play something for you," Daria said, as Sandi nodded. Without waiting for approval, they started with the same riff they'd just been playing. That segued into a faster, chord-driven section, as the two girls began to sing. It wasn't until about halfway through the song that Jane recognized the lyrics:
Broken words, broken hearts, broken love
Still not sure what I was dreaming of
Pick it up try again soon I'll see
I'm never as strong as I used to be
Shocked, Jane turned toward Quinn—who, going by the look on her face, had just had the same revelation.
"That's 'Shards,'" she gasped, as Daria and Sandi finished.
"After a little work between the two of us, yes." Daria smirked. "I hope it sucks a little less now."
"There was plenty of good material there," Sandi added. "We just, like, had to find the right way to use it."
Quinn wanted to jump right into learning the new vocal parts and seeing if keyboards would add anything, but Jane was strangely reluctant. Handing Daria a major win so soon after their fight seemed almost like giving in, and the fact that Sandi was Daria's co-conspirator made it even worse.
Jane was all in favor of Daria being more cooperative, at least in theory, but to see her amiga working well with Sandi while she was left out in the cold really bugged her. Quinn was a known quantity and someone they'd learned to deal with, and even appreciate, but Sandi was different. Jane knew the band needed her, but she still didn't trust her. Sandi seemed to be setting herself up as Daria's biggest ally in the band, for what ulterior motive Jane couldn't guess.
This wasn't really the time or place to explain all that, though—especially with Sandi right there—and an explanation was the only way to get out of playing. So she shrugged, grabbed her sticks, and settled in behind the kit. After a few minutes, she was able to lose herself in the music and forget about the bullshit. She was pretty sure that it'd all come back as soon as they were done playing, though.
That night, Sandi had trouble falling asleep. It had been an eventful day—an eventful month, really. She'd gone from walking away from the band to building at least one deeper relationship, and with Daria Morgendorffer, of all people.
Daria had played her 'Shards' again a couple of weeks ago, and she'd immediately had some ideas. She'd been surprised the other woman was so open to them, even though Daria had come to her for help.
When she'd said this, Daria had smiled. "Well, it doesn't make any sense to ask for your help and then ignore your advice. I tried something that didn't work, and I don't know where to go with it." She gave her usual half-smile. "Asking another songwriter seems like a sensible next step."
"You think of me as a songwriter?" Sandi blurted before she could stop herself. She could almost see her mother's sneer, mocking her for seeking approval.
"You've written songs, haven't you?" Daria's half smile didn't change. "Did you think there was an initiation ceremony and a secret handshake?"
The image receded, replaced by something like comfort. "Are you going to teach it to me, or I do I have to, like, make one up for myself?"
"We'll figure something out," Daria said.
Lying in her bed now, a couple of weeks later, Sandi was surprised at how pleased she'd been with their combined effort. She thought back on all the so-called projects the Fashion Club had tried, and how infighting and head games had ruined all of them. Cooperating successfully with someone was a nice feeling, she decided—or at least it beat trying to drive wedges in between her bandmates just to see how far she could push them.
Of course, practice hadn't been a fairy tale of felicity. They'd roughed out a full arrangement for "Shards" and rolled through some of the other songs, which went well, but as soon as they finished, Jane was out the door without a word. Clearly, she had a bug up her ass about something, and Sandi couldn't help but wonder if her writing with Daria was at least some part of it. A few months ago, she'd have been over the moon to find a weakness in Jane, but then a few months ago, she'd never have been working with Daria in the first place.
She sighed and rolled over, stilling her racing thoughts. She wasn't going to be able to solve the band's problems tonight, and besides, she had to work tomorrow. She dropped of quickly.
Work blew by the next day, and she was at loose ends in the evening. Strangely, she found herself wanting to call Quinn, but she decided against it. She'd see Quinn soon enough anyway. Instead, she messed around with another piece of music she had in her head. There were no lyrics to go with it, but it felt like the beginning of a song, so she wrote out the chording for later consideration.
The next day, she turned up on time for the load-up before the gig, but when she knocked on the door, Jane answered. "So," Sandi said, "are you the permanent doorman?"
Jane's expression said she wasn't in a bantering mood. "The hotel manager is out to lunch and this bell girl is not happy about it," she said and stomped up the stairs, Doc Martens echoing loudly in the cramped stairwell.
Quinn was waiting at the top. "Hey, Sandi," she said. "Glad you made it." She wasn't seething, like Jane, but the slight emphasis on the "you" showed that she wasn't happy with her sister either.
"So where is Daria?" Sandi said, looking around. "It's not like her not to be here."
"Damned if I know," said Quinn. "I got here about ten minutes ago, and there was no sign of Daria and no note. Just Jane swearing like a crazy woman."
"With good fucking reason," Jane snapped. "We still don't even know if Daria got the fucking union paperwork done."
Just then, they heard the sound of boots on the stairs again, and before anyone could say anything, Daria appeared in the doorway. "Crap," she said. "The one time I'm late, everyone else is early."
"And where the fuck were you?" Jane snapped, as Quinn glared from over her shoulder.
"Making sure we could play tonight," Daria said, walking past Jane and into the kitchen. She appeared a moment later with a beer. "No thanks to that cokehead bookkeeper at LL Wolf's. I got all the union paperwork over yesterday and he swore he'd pass it along to the owner. So I get a call around noon saying they don't have it, and we can't play unless I get it. I had to blow off my last class and run over there to get it straightened out." Popping the top, she took a long swig.
Jane's expression, Sandi noted, had lost some of its hostility, but Quinn wore a look of surprise and concern. Not sure what it meant, but wanting to defuse the tension if she could, Sandi said, "So, are we like ready for the load-up?"
"In a minute," Daria said. "I deserve this after the fucking day I've had." She made short work of her beer. "Okay. Let's go."
As Daria turned away, Quinn whispered something to Jane, but Sandi couldn't hear it. She was aware of the undercurrents, though, so she tried to remain unobtrusive as they gathered up the equipment. The fault lines seemed to be pulling in a different way today, and she wanted to avoid getting sucked into it.
They got the equipment loaded and reached LL Wolf's without incident. The owner, Lester Benz, greeted them at the door. "Thanks for getting the paperwork in for me, Daria. I'm glad I didn't have to scrounge up another band at the last minute."
"You're welcome, Mr. Benz," Daria said, as the Girls filed in, carrying their instruments.
Benz, a lean, graying fiftysomething with sunken eyes, smiled. "I've told you a bunch of times already, call me Les." He was trying to be ingratiating, Sandi knew, but he just looked predatory.
Daria mumbled something that sounded like an apology and the four of them got set up. After a couple of songs, Sandi could tell something was off. She and Jane weren't quite clicking on the backbeat the way they usually did, and the harmonies weren't as tight as usual. Quinn was in fine voice, but Daria's guitar lacked its usual fire. Still, the first set went over well, and Benz, who was between the bar and the stage, seemed happy. The same could not be said of her bandmates.
She followed the others out the back door in time to hear Jane snarl, "Well, that sucked. Care to explain why, Daria?"
Daria only folded her arms and glared. She was good at glaring, Sandi noted, not for the first time.
"Do you think it was maybe a bad idea to have a drink before we went on, Daria?" Quinn said, drawing a faint look of surprise from her sister.
Before Daria could reply, though, Jane jumped in. "Come off it, Quinn. There's no way one beer is going to cause Daria to screw up that badly."
Daria finally responded to Jane's goading. "I don't know if you noticed, Jane, but between work, school, and the band, I'm freakin' exhausted. I'm sorry it took a toll on my playing. But you were behind the beat all night. What's your excuse?"
"My fucking guitarist couldn't carry a tune tonight, that's what!" Jane said. Sandi hadn't seen her this angry since the blow-up they'd had about designing the logo and outfits. That time, Sandi had deliberately caused the explosion, and had enjoyed the show, or at least some of it; she'd skipped out when things had threatened to turn violent. This time wasn't nearly as much fun. She was finally starting to enjoy a sense of belonging with the band and was worried it would all fall apart here. Her worry was reinforced when Daria stalked off, muttering curses under her breath. Jane soon disappeared in the other direction.
"Are they gone for good?" she asked Quinn.
"No," Quinn replied. Although worry lines clouded her face, the singer still seemed reasonably calm. "Daria, at least, wouldn't pass up the chance to make a big speech if she was quitting. And Jane's the drummer. She gets to come back and hit stuff."
"Uh, good," Sandi said and lapsed into silence as Quinn looked off in the direction her sister had gone.
Daria reappeared about ten minutes later. Her expression hadn't changed so far as Sandi could see, but her demeanor seemed different. Confirming this, the first thing she said was, "I'm sorry about the fight, and I'm sorry about the first set. The second set will be better."
Sandi thanked her and so did Quinn.
Jane didn't turn up for another ten minutes, and when she did, she clearly hadn't regained control of herself the way Daria had. Instead of saying hello, she walked right past them and settled herself on the drum stool without a word. An almost palpable rage seemed to rise from her.
Despite this, or maybe because of it, the second set was better. Jane hit the drums with precision and force, allowing Sandi to find the beat right away. Daria's playing had a lot more fire, and Quinn's vocals were superb. They knocked off with "Roadrunner" that night, instead of "Charmed Circle," and left the stage to delirious cheers.
Benz was waiting for them when they got off the stage. "Now that's what I call a show," he said, grabbing a hand and pumping it effusively. Fortunately, Sandi thought, the hand was Daria's, since she wasn't sure the rest of them could hide their disgust as well as Daria could.
"I've got someone I want you to meet," he said, and began half-pulling, half-pushing Daria toward the bar. Quinn automatically followed, her doll face radiating worry. Before Sandi could say anything, Jane too disappeared, leaving Sandi alone and wondering which bandmate to follow. She found with a certain shock that Daria was now the one in the band she felt closest to, but she also worried that following her was almost like a declaration of allegiance, and she wasn't ready to go that far. Plus, doing so would alienate Jane, possibly permanently. With a sigh, she turned to look for the erratic drummer.
Sandi found her out back, leaning against the brick wall of the club, facing away from the door. "Hey," she said by way of greeting and peace offering.
Jane didn't turn, but she said, "Was I behind the beat?"
"I dunno," Sandi said, choosing honesty over false reassurance. "All I know is like we weren't clicking during the first set. It could have been you or it could have been me, or even both of us."
"Yeah," Jane said. It seemed for a moment that her anger was gone, until she suddenly snarled, "Fuck Daria. She's bad enough, and now I'll bet fucking Jodie is going to be up our asses all the time."
Sandi was about to ask why Jane was so mad at Daria, but the mention of Jodie threw her for a loop. "Jodie Landon?" she asked.
"What does she have to do with anything?"
"She turned up last Saturday. That's where Daria was while we were fending off the Creature from the Eighties Lagoon. And I'll bet you dollars to donuts that she's gonna end up our manager somehow." She paused for a long moment—for effect, Sandi thought—before saying, "And then I will shoot myself in the head on Daria's porch, and she can clean up the body."
Sandi still didn't understand why Jane was mad. "I don't get it. Why would Jodie end up our manager? And why would it matter? She seems like she's on the ball, and all the rest of us are from Lawndale, right?"
"Because I don't like Jodie," Jane said, biting off each word. "I never have. She's a backstabbing social climber who sucks up to whoever she thinks will help her most."
Sandi smiled, because she'd never had much use for little Miss Perfect either. "And?" she said.
"But Daria does like her," Jane noted. "And Daria likes to keep the people she likes around her. So if she has a chance to draw Jodie into our little charmed circle," she smiled sourly, "she'll find a way."
"So what are you going to do? Are you going to talk to Daria?" Sandi said.
"No." Jane turned to face Sandi, a rolled joint in her hand. "I'm going to smoke enough weed to keep me from punching Daria in the face. And then I'm going to go home, sleep it off, and not worry about it until Saturday." She lit the joint and took a long hit. "You want?" she said, holding it out to Sandi.
For just a moment, Sandi couldn't help but wonder what this meant. Was it a peace offering, an invitation, or a recruitment pitch? She pushed those thoughts away, deciding not to worry about status games or band politics. Jane was here, looking for someone to bond with; as a friend, Sandi should do what she could. Anyway, it wasn't like it would be her first time getting high. She reached for the joint with a smile.
Meanwhile, Daria was not enjoying herself at all. Benz had dragged her and Quinn off to a far corner of the bar, occupied only by an unkempt guy who looked to be in his late twenties.
"Daria, Quinn," Benz said, "this is Hank Muller, a good friend of mine." Hank extended a hand, which Daria shook, ignoring the clamminess of his palms.
"Pleased to meet you," she managed, hating herself for lying.
"Like I said," Benz noted, "Hank's a good friend of mine and he knows a lot about the local music scene. I think he might be able to help you girls."
"Yeah," he said. "I've seen you guys play, and you're pretty great! I'd love to take over as manager!" He was very enthusiastic; Daria had to give him that.
Daria exchanged a quick look with Quinn, whose turned-down lips signaled a no. "Well, tell me some of what you know about the music scene."
"I've been around to a bunch of different places all over Cambridge, Somerville, Boston, JP, even as far as Quincy." His head bobbed as he talked. Daria wasn't sure if his enthusiasm was getting the best of him or he had some sort of involuntary twitch. "This is one of the top places. So's Camelot and Elysium. I'm sure you know where that is, out in Allston. The places in JP aren't as big. The Rock and Roll Café opened a place, and they have pretty big room."
"You know people at all these places?" Daria asked, almost impressed despite herself.
"Sure," he said with a breezy wave. "I know all the guys."
"Cool. So who books Camelot?" Daria asked. "We'd love to get in there, even if it's early in the week. Right, Quinn?"
Quinn still looked nonplussed, but nodded and chipped in. "Yeah. I mean our first gig was Tuesday nights at October's. We could totally do Tuesdays again in a bigger place."
"October's? Cool!" Hank said. "A buddy of mine lives over there. Do you guys know the owner?"
"Uh, yeah," Daria said, now more than sharing her sister's unease. "He's the guy who hired us. Do you know the guy who books at Camelot?"
"No," he said. "I know one of the bouncers, though. That should help, right?"
"I suppose," Daria said, hiding a sigh. "Listen, we have to talk to Mr. Benz and then discuss it with our bandmates."
"Oh sure," he said. "Just tell Les when you decide, and he'll get in touch with me." With a big smile and a last bob of the head, he disappeared.
"Do you mind finding Jane and Sandi, Quinn?" Daria asked. "I want to have a word with 'Les.'"
Quinn smiled wickedly and disappeared. Daria walked to the other end of the bar where Benz had reinstalled himself. "What was that?" she asked.
He gave her his oiliest smile. "Great kid, isn't he? Knows the music scene like the back of his hand."
"He's a nephew, right?" Daria said, all patience gone. "He can't be a friend's kid. Guys like you don't have friends." She saw his expression change and cut him off. "Cut the crap, Benz. I've had a long day and I just want our money. We can forget that you tried to pawn an incompetent kid off as our manager and we'll start fresh next week."
He nodded, suddenly all business. Pulling out a wad of bills, be counted out five hundreds and some twenties. "Five hundred against 10 percent of the gate, and we got 400 people in at a $15 cover."
Daria took the money without changing expression. "Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Benz," she said.
She was shocked by his sudden smile. "You too, kid. You got a pair on you. If you girls wanna hang around, the first round is on me."
Daria nodded her thanks and moved off to find Quinn, but Quinn found her first. Her face was twisted in an expression of horror. "Daria," she wailed, "you've got to come quickly. I went looking for Jane and Sandi like you said, but they weren't in the bar anywhere, so I looked in the bathroom, thinking Sandi might wanna, you know, freshen up, and they weren't there either. So I called out the back door. No one came, so I checked, and they were... they were..."
"Please don't tell me they were making out, Quinn," Daria said. "Because I don't need the Behind the Music crap."
Daria's crack had the desired effect, as Quinn's eyes went wide and the verbal flow stopped. "Eeeeeewwwwwwwwww! Don't even joke, Daria. They were smoking pot."
"And?" Daria raised an eyebrow.
"Daria, they're doing drugs!" Quinn said.
"Say it louder, Quinn," Daria snapped, "The whole bar didn't hear you."
"You don't think it's important?" Quinn said, putting her hands on her hips.
"Let me know when they start doing coke in the bathroom," Daria said.
"Daria!" Quinn said, shocked.
Daria sighed. Clearly her sister wasn't going to give up on this, and as the closest thing to a parent, she was going to have to deal with it. "Okay, Quinn. Let's go see the Dope Show."
Without giving Quinn a chance to argue, she headed out the back door, where she found Jane and Sandi against the wall of the club, passing a joint back and forth.
"Hey, Daria," Jane said, her voice a little thick. "Want a hit?"
"No thanks," Daria said in her usual monotone.
Sandi's eyes narrowed. "I see Quinn told you to come and like read us the riot act."
"All I said was I didn't want a hit off your joint."
"But, you're like disapproving us or something, like Quinn did, just because we want to relax."
"I'm disapproving that we haven't even started the load-out, and I'm pissed at Benz for trying to pawn a total incompetent off on us," Daria said with an edged smile, "but I'm glad to see you two are bonding, no matter how you do it."
"Like, whatever," Sandi grunted.
"Ah, come on, Daria," Jane said. "Have a drink and relax. We'll be back in a few minutes."
Stung, Daria narrowed her eyes, but before she could speak, Sandi started giggling, her anger of a moment ago forgotten. Her giggles set off Jane, and soon the two of them were laughing fit to burst and leaning on each other for support. Daria shook her head in disgust and turned away.
"Where are you going?" Quinn asked, as Daria maneuvered past.
"I'm taking Jane's advice," Daria said. "Benz even said the first round is on him."
The edge in her sister's voice made Quinn worry. "I'm not sure that's a good idea, Daria."
"Relax, Quinn. I'm not going to start pounding shots or anything. When Jane and Not Silent Enough Bob finish their synchronized giggling, we'll do the load-out. In the meantime, I may as well have a beer. Join me?"
"Uh, no thanks," Quinn said. "I think I'm going to hit the ladies room. Call me when we're ready to get loaded."
It wasn't until the redhead was out of sight that Daria gave vent to her irritation. "Some of us already are," she muttered and headed for the bar.
The next morning, Daria was relaxing in front of her computer with a cup of coffee. One beer had stretched to two, but not to three, so even though she and Quinn did most of the load-out, she wasn't feeling any aftereffects this morning. After visiting a couple of news sites, she opened her email, where she found a surprise waiting—an invitation to have lunch with Jodie today.
"Why not?" she said aloud. "I don't have to be at work until three."
Thus, at lunchtime she found herself tucked into a corner booth at a tiny Indian place in Jefferson Square. After a moment, Jodie slid into the booth across from her, a smile on her ebony face.
"Wow," she said. "When's the last time we did this, Daria?"
"I'm going to have to go with never, Jodie," Daria said. "You never had time to sit down and just have lunch with someone."
"And you never wanted to have lunch with anyone but Jane."
"Touché."
"So you're in a band," Jodie said, shaking her head in wonder. "With Quinn of all people. How did this happen?"
Daria shrugged. "Quinn and I started getting along better during senior year, and that sort of carried over. Plus, she can sing, which I never actually knew."
"And Sandi?" Jodie said.
"Well, that's a longer story," Daria said, and told Jodie about the series of auditions and how Sandi ended up pretty much falling into their laps. "So enough about me," she added. "What's going on in the world of Jodie? Mack still in the picture?"
"Nope," Jodie said. "We did the long-distance thing for about a year, but we both realized that we had less in common than we thought. There's more to the black experience than being tokens in a lily-white suburb."
Daria nodded, and Jodie continued. "Turner was pretty amazing, and I learned a lot about myself, but after three years, I was ready for the wide world again. Even from Crestmore, MBAs aren't worth the paper they're printed on, but I'm networking like crazy."
Daria gave a sour half-smile. "Learning who's worth sucking up to?"
If Jodie was uncomfortable with Daria's tone, she didn't show it. "Some of them are real creeps. Makes me sick to my stomach to deal with that kind, but I've gotta face facts. These are the people I'm going to be asking to bankroll whatever business I go into. If I can shake some of their money loose to provide opportunities to ambitious black kids who don't have a rich father, I'll take that trade every day and twice on Sundays."
"I guess that makes sense," Daria said. "And it's not like I can criticize. You should see some of the lowlifes I have to deal with to get gigs."
"So you're doing the paperwork and getting the gigs and everything?"
"Someone's got to," Daria shrugged again. "None of the others want the job."
"So why don't you have a manager?"
"We've been talking about it," Daria said. "It would make my life easier, God knows. I'm freaking exhausted between school, work, and keeping the band running. But there's really no one trustworthy. Like I said, most of the people on the edge of the music scene are either idiots or lowlifes, and everyone's on the make." She could feel her nerves tightening as she spoke. Every word she said to Jodie was true, but she wondered how many of them were directed at herself.
Jodie smiled. "I may just have a solution for you."
Intrigued, despite her discomfort, Daria listened. The more she heard, the more she realized this could resolve most of her worries. By the time lunch was over, she was willing to give it a try.
Quinn, meanwhile, was still pondering the scene she had walked in on after the gig. Lying in bed after the gig, she couldn't believe that her bandmates were doing drugs. Even in her mind, she said the words "doing drugs" in a terrified hush. Then, when she'd processed the idea, she couldn't believe that she couldn't believe that Jane would smoke pot. Stoner musicians and stoner artists were, after all, almost a cliché. Then, she couldn't believe that a Fashion Club member could smoke pot. Finally, she realized how stupid that was and fell asleep.
She spent her Friday at work thinking she needed to talk to Jane, so she passed up a chance to hit the bars and headed home right after work. She apparently wasn't the only one with that idea, because Jane was waiting when she got there.
"Hey," Quinn said, as she slung her bag down next to the couch. "I thought I might have to wake you when I got home."
"No," Jane said, pointing to the couch to offer Quinn a seat. "I was up painting. I figured you'd get home around now. I want to talk to you."
Quinn sank down, feeling uncomfortable as she waited for Jane to continue.
"I'm sure you've noticed what's been going on." Jane's voice was pensive as she met Quinn's eyes.
Shocked, Quinn snapped, "How could I miss it?"
Jane's eyes narrowed slightly. "I'm surprised, Quinn. This is a little subtle for you."
"Subtle?" Quinn's voice rose. "Jane, you were standing right outside the back door."
"I mean, it's not like she—" Jane started to say, when Quinn's words finally registered. "Quinn," she started again, disbelief in her voice. "Are you talking about Sandi and I smoking pot after the show?"
"Well, duh," Quinn said. "What else would I be talking about?"
"How about Daria screwing up the manager thing?" Jane said. "If you think that's less important than me and Sandi blowing off steam, though, you can get out your DARE pamphlets and I'll tear them up."
"So you think I shouldn't make a big deal out of my roommate doing drugs?" Quinn said.
"No," Jane said, nettled. "I'm a big girl and so is Sandi. Call Betty Ford when we start doing coke in the bathroom. Until then—."
Quinn's sudden laughter stopped Jane in her tracks. "I'm sorry," the redhead said, getting control of herself. "It's just that Daria said the same exact thing with the same exact expression." Quinn noticed Jane's frown deepen at the mention of Daria and decided that it wasn't so funny after all. "What do you mean about Daria screwing up the manager thing?"
"She's been filing our paperwork late for like a month now, but if you suggest she needs help, she gets all closed up. She blew off that guy at Wolf's without even talking to us."
"Come off it, Jane," Quinn said. "I met the guy too, and he wasn't worth bothering with. I mean, we need a guy who knows owners at big places, and he was bragging about knowing the bouncer at one club."
"Still," Jane said, "she could have asked us."
"No, she couldn't have." Quinn said, annoyed. "You and Sandi were out back getting high, remember?"
"I though we were off that, Quinn?"
"I never said that," Quinn said. "But even if we were off that, I can still call you on not being around for me and Daria to talk to. And when we tried to come out and talk to you, you and Sandi blew us off." She suddenly felt curious and a little nervous. "And what was up with that, Jane? You and Sandi don't usually get along."
Jane shrugged. "I think we got most of that out of our system last month. And I think we cleared the air a little on Thursday."
"Don't you mean, you filled it with pot smoke?" Quinn said, feeling the right side of her mouth go up in a half-smile kind of like Daria's.
"Cut the crap, Quinn," Jane said. "I'm serious. We've all sunk too much time into this band to let your sister screw it up because she's got control issues."
"I don't know, Jane," Quinn said. "I mean, I know I've been thinking about the manager thing more lately, and I'm sure Sandi has too, but partly that's just because of the idiots we ran across at the last two gigs." She raised a hand to stop Jane from saying anything. "And I'm not saying you're not right, because you are. We need a manager, but finding the right one is going to take some time. And it's not like the four of us have even really talked about it yet. And you haven't really asked Daria if she's okay with it. She seemed interested in the guy on Thursday—until he started talking, I mean."
Jane grumbled, "You know how Daria is. She can be such a pain in the ass about things she doesn't want to deal with."
"Which is why we have to talk to her," Quinn said. "If we don't, she's not going to deal with it, and we'll be stuck waiting for her to get paperwork done every time we get a new gig."
"If we get a new gig," Jane said. "I guess you're right, Quinn. We'll talk to her tomorrow before the load-up."
Quinn nodded, and went to bed. The next day was uneventful and she headed over to Daria's a few minutes early. When she got there, Jane wasn't around, but Sandi was. The brunette was sitting on the couch, chatting quietly with Daria. Quinn was a little weirded out, she had to admit, but she was also happy that her sister and Sandi were making an effort to get along.
"So what are we talking about?" she said as she plumped down on the couch next to Daria.
"Chord changes," Daria said. "Nothing exciting." Sandi nodded. They were both giving off a slightly weird vibe, but Quinn decided to let it go and change the subject. Before she could, Jane came in.
"Late for the party again, I see," she said, giving all of them a sour look.
Daria either didn't see or chose to ignore Jane's expression, and gave her a typical half smile. "You know, civilized people knock," she said. Ignoring Jane's glare, she added, "But then you're a drummer, so that's an oxymoron."
Quinn wondered why Daria was needling Jane when it was obvious, to Quinn at least, that Jane wasn't in the mood for it. "Are we ready to start the load-out?" she asked, hoping to change the subject.
"One thing," Daria said. "I know you guys have been saying we need a manager and I think you're right."
Jane muttered, "Hallelujah," worrying Quinn even more.
Daria gave Jane a sour smile. "Believe me, I hate running around getting paperwork together three hours before a gig even more than you guys hate wondering if we're going to get to play that night. The problem," she added, "is finding someone who can do the job who we can trust. Those clown shoes we met in the last week aren't going to cut it. Either they'll fuck it up, rob us blind, or fuck it up trying to rob us blind."
Quinn waited for Daria to finish. Her sister was obviously over whatever had freaked her out about getting a manager, which made Quinn relax. Now that they were all on the same page, she felt like the sniping and bitching would end, at least for now. So when she heard Daria say, "Well, you know I saw Jodie Landon after last week's gig," the last thing she expected was Jane to swear and bolt to her feet so quickly that the chair fell. That was what happened, though.
"I told you," Jane said, pointing at Sandi almost accusingly. "I told you what would happen!" Then, before Daria or Quinn could say anything, she stomped out of the apartment slamming the door behind her.
Quinn looked to her sister for an explanation, but Daria was as confused as she was. They shared a blank look for a moment before both turning to Sandi.
"Are you really planning on, like, having Jodie be our manager, Daria?" Sandi said.
"Huh?" Daria still looked confused. "Is that why Jane flipped?"
Sandi nodded. "She doesn't like Jodie at all."
For one of the few times she could remember, Quinn saw her sister at a loss. "Huh. You'd think I would have noticed that," Daria said.
"Jane said she's a backstabbing social climber," Sandi noted.
Quinn, who shared that opinion, nodded. "I know you like her, Daria, but she's not someone I'd turn my back on. She is very bright, though."
"Well," Daria said, "I can put all of your minds at ease on that. I'm sure Jodie wants to manage a band almost as much as you all want her as the manager."
"So why did you mention her, then?" Quinn asked.
"She knows a guy in her MBA program who is looking for a band to manage." Daria held up a hand to prevent comments. "I figured this might be worth a shot because someone we knew vouched for the guy. And even if you don't trust Jodie like I do, she's a better bet than a lowlife like Benz or some guy out of the blue."
"I won't argue, and I'll bet Jane won't either," Quinn said. They'd all seen the kind of weasels and losers who hung around the edges of the clubs.
"Good," Daria said, nodding. "I'll go and get her and we can start the load-up."
"You better not," Quinn said. "Jane's kinda put out with you right now. Why don't you let me talk to her? I'm pretty sure I can get her to calm down enough so that she'll listen to you."
"I think I can talk to my best friend, Quinn," Daria snapped.
"Quinn's right," Sandi said. "Jane's like too pissed off to listen to you. Let someone else calm her down first." Surprised at the support, Quinn almost missed Sandi's next words. "Do you want me to come with you?"
Caught off guard, Quinn locked up for a moment. She was trying to trust Sandi more, and it seemed like Sandi was trying to calm things down, but part of her still wondered what Sandi's real motives were.
Not waiting for an answer, Sandi said, "If nothing else, Jane'll be surprised by seeing the two of us like together long enough to maybe listen to us."
"I guess that makes sense," Quinn said.
The two of them didn't have to wait long to find Jane. Almost as soon as they walked outside, they saw her running flat out down the street. As she passed Daria's house, she flipped them the bird and kept going. Quinn was shocked and annoyed, and the amused smirk on Sandi's face didn't help. A couple of minutes later, Jane came around the block again, and this time she stopped.
"So," she said, not even panting. "Daria send the two of you out to drag me back?"
"No," Quinn said. "I wanted to talk to you. And Sandi asked to come along."
"Don't think you're going to talk me into having Jodie as our manager," Jane said. "I already told you, Sandi, that she's a weasel, and I won't have her." Quinn was surprised at the anger in Jane's voice, and that Jane had confided in Sandi rather than her or Daria.
"No one said anything about Jodie being our manager," Sandi said. "Then what the hell was Daria talking about?" Jane said.
"Well," Quinn said, "She did mention Jodie and I guess you were worried about that, which is why you ran out when you did."
"I did not run out," Jane said.
"Look, Jane," Quinn said. "I know you're stressed and mad at Daria, but if we're going to do this manager thing, we have to talk—all four of us. So let's go back upstairs, listen to what Daria has to say and see if it makes sense."
"Yeah," Sandi chimed in. "If it does, we'll go from there. If not, we'll do something else."
Jane didn't say anything right away. As the silence stretched, Quinn thought she could feel her nerves tightening. She knew Jane very well by now, but she truly had no idea how her roommate would react. Sneaking a look at Sandi, she was surprised to find her looking calm and composed.
Finally, Jane spoke, and Quinn let out the breath she hadn't realize she'd been holding. "Fine. As long as it's not Jodie we're talking about, I'll listen. But give me a few minutes. I still need to run out some aggression." Without waiting for an answer, she ran off.
"Think she'll come back?" Sandi said.
"Yeah," Quinn said, relief washing over her. "Jane's good about stuff like that."
"Good." Sandi nodded. "And thanks, Quinn."
Quinn followed her up the stairs, relief replaced by confusion.
Jane let the pounding of her feet against the pavement drain her anger. Her regular stride, so much like a simple drumbeat, carried her forward as houses, cars, and trees passed in a blur. She hadn't given herself time to run for too long, and maybe that was part of the problem.
Although her schedule wasn't as rough as, say, Daria's, Jane did feel like she was busier than she'd ever been before. Between school, the band, tending bar a couple of nights a week, and keeping up with her art, she'd let her running slide, and that had been a mistake. Running was her way of clearing her head, of emptying herself of the rage that bubbled up in her with no real outlet.
She felt the burn in her arms and legs, and with the burn came clarity. What she really resented, she realized, wasn't Daria falling behind, so much as Daria running things with the band. She hadn't admitted it to herself, because Daria being in charge was the outcome she'd expected, and even wanted. That was before she'd realized that forcing those responsibilities on Daria would open a wedge between the two of them.
Jane slowed as she came back around to Daria's street. Blaming Daria for doing what she wanted, Jane decided, was pretty stupid. Maybe she was acting out, something she'd never really had a chance to do before, since acting out needed some sort of authority to act out against, and her parents hadn't really given her that. Whatever the reason, she decided it was time to stop.
Returning to Daria's apartment, she let herself in. Quinn and Sandi both looked hopeful, but a little worried. It was Daria's face she needed to read, though, and Daria was the queen of the closed expression. "Sorry I flipped out for a minute there," Jane said, hoping Daria was ready for the peace offering. "I'm back and I'm ready to listen."
"Thank you, Jane," Daria said, tone of voice telling Jane nothing, "Before we were so rudely interrupted," she continued, slightly mocking, "I believe I was discussing a possible solution to our manager dilemma." Daria quirked a half-smile in Jane's direction, and Jane felt a sudden warmth. This was Daria, her best friend, and if dating the same guy hadn't come between them, the band certainly wouldn't.
"Jodie has no interest in managing a band. Even if we all wanted her, she's not a big music fan and she knows nothing about the industry," Daria said. "But she does know a guy at Crestmore who is interested. He's got some hooks in the industry, because his dad's a lawyer, and brokered deals between venues in the Boston area and conglomerates like LiveAmerica and Ticketlord. I think it makes sense to at least meet the guy. From what Jodie says, he's smart, committed, and wants to be his own man, which could be good for us."
The other two girls, Jane could see, were already on board, and she had to admit, with good reason. The guy sounded like a paragon compared to the other losers—the guy she'd met and the other one Quinn had told her about. "Sounds good," she said. "When do we meet him?"
"He's coming to the gig tonight," Daria said. Jane felt her rage rise again, but she pushed it down. Daria may have seen a change in her expression, though, because she added, "I told Jodie we wouldn't necessarily talk to him tonight, but if he wants to see us play, now is as good a time as any."
"Eh," Jane shrugged, thinking about running and letting calmness back into herself. "We may as well do it tonight. No sense in wasting time, right?" Quinn and Sandi made noises of agreement.
"Then let's get loaded up," Daria said. "After all, we've got a gig to play, and we need to play well. There'll be someone in the audience we may want to impress."
Play well they did. Jane could feel it almost from the first chord. All four of them were totally in sync tonight. Because she and Sandi were clicking, she felt free to add more rolls and fills to her playing, knowing the bass would bring her back to the beat. She could feel herself propelling the music, almost connected to the hundreds of feet moving in time to her rhythm.
They closed the first set with an extended rave up of the instrumental they called "Fuck Off and Die," and the crowd moved ecstatically with them. When Quinn announced that the first set was over, the raucous cheer she got in response was deafening. All four Girls were smiling as they left the stage.
"Not bad, huh?" Daria said as they walked down the stairs.
"Better than Thursday," Jane smiled.
Daria nodded, a rare full smile filling her face.
"Where are the others?" Jane asked, as the two of them sat down at the room's only table.
"Quinn's still basking in the adoration of the crowd. And Sandi," Daria looked around quickly. "Sandi's got some thinking to do, so she's probably grabbing some alone time while she can."
"Good," Jane said. "I don't think they need to hear this anyway."
Daria said nothing, but Jane could see the concern cross her face.
Now that it came down to it, Jane was almost reluctant to say anything, but this was her friend sitting across from her and she owed it to both of them to be honest. She took a deep breath and forged ahead. "I know I've been a pain in the ass for the last couple of weeks, pushing you about the manager thing and giving you shit you don't deserve, and I'm sorry."
"It's okay, Jane," Daria said.
"Let me finish. If I don't get this all out now, it's not going to come out, and I really need to say it." She took another deep breath. "I really thought I was just worried you were taking over and that the band would suffer, but I finally figured out that I don't like the way you being in charge is changing our friendship. And that's pretty immature, because I'm the one who wanted you in charge in the first place."
Daria digested this for a minute, then spoke. "Is that why you flipped when you heard Jodie's name?"
"Yeah," Jane said, feeling ashamed. "I mean, it's bad enough I have to share you with Quinn, who I've at least learned to like, but now you're spending all this time with Sandi, who I'm still not sure about. If Jodie came in as manager, there'd be someone I know I don't like putting up another barrier between us."
"Two against the world," Daria said, with a sad half-smile.
"Yeah," Jane said. "Sometimes I miss those days."
"Well, now we're four against the world," Daria said. "And when we find a manager, we'll be five against the world. But you'll always be my primera amiga, even when you're calling me incompetent, saying my songwriting sucks, or getting high with the bassist behind my back."
"You're not going to start in on that too, are you, Daria?"
"Relax, Jane," Daria half-smiled again. "You're a big girl and you know how to take care of yourself. And so's Sandi."
"Yeah. I was kinda pissed at you that night, so I decided to hang out with someone not named Morgendorffer."
"Feel free." Daria became thoughtful. "I think you'll be surprised the more time you spend with her. I know I was. Behind the bitchy Heather exterior we knew from high school, there's a smart and talented person hiding. Plus," her smile turned wicked, "she's even better at winding up Quinn than you and I are." They both laughed at that.
"So," Jane said to a still-smiling Daria, "Are we good?"
Daria nodded. "We're good."
Jane suddenly felt an intense sense of well-being, as if something that had been out of whack inside her for a long time suddenly slipped back into its accustomed place. Her normally optimistic nature reasserted itself, and she felt like good things were about to happen, in the second set and after.
Sandi had indeed been thinking. She stood outside the back door looking out on a clear spring sky and back on her life. Thanks to her mother and her experiences over the last few years, she'd learned to distrust her positive feelings. Happiness was a transitory thing that could, and would, be stolen away in the blink of an eye. The band might be permanent—certainly the others intended to take it as far as they could, and looking for a manager suggested they were in for the long haul—but it might fall apart any minute. It almost had a few weeks ago, thanks to her.
In the weeks since then, she'd really committed herself, not holding herself apart like she did before. As a result, she'd started to feel like she had a real place within the band. Daria at least was showing her a degree of respect she'd never anticipated, and she'd cleared the air with Quinn. Even Jane, who was far less welcoming than the other two, was willing to blow off steam with her, if only because she was pissed at everyone else. Maybe the band was Sandi's route to happiness. Or maybe it would fall apart, like everything else in her world.
After a few minutes, she grew tired of her maundering and went downstairs. There she found Daria and Jane sharing a laugh, something that hadn't happened in her sight for quite a while. She shoved down hard on the jealousy she suddenly felt, and gave the two girls a quiet, "Hey!"
"Hey, Sandi," Jane said. "Ready for the second set?"
She thought hard about the question, weighing her long-term worries against her immediate issues, and came to a happy conclusion. "Yeah, I am. I only hope we like rock this set as hard as we did the first." She hated her Valley Girl verbal tick, but couldn't seem to get rid of it.
"We will," Jane said, radiating certainty and confidence. Sandi felt like stealing some.
"And we'd better do it now," Daria said, "before the adulation goes to Quinn's head and she decides she doesn't need us anymore." It took a minute, but Sandi joined in with Jane's laughter.
They did, in fact, rock the second set—maybe not as hard as the first set, but the crowd seemed happy. Syncing with Jane had been effortless in the first set, but she had to work hard now to keep the rhythm flowing. It didn't bother her, since she knew that the moments of perfection were just that: moments. The transforming power of the music was still with her, and that was what mattered.
They finished with "Roadrunner" again, and the crowd ate it up. Sandi still disliked the song, but Daria and Jane had been right in every particular about how well it went over. The crowd was still cheering as a dark-skinned couple made their way over to the bandstand. It took Sandi a minute to recognize Jodie, who had ditched the cornrows she wore in college for a pixie cut. She figured the guy must be either Jodie's boyfriend, their potential new manager, or both.
Daria had obviously come to a similar conclusion. "Hey, Jodie," she said, her voice neutral. "I see you've got someone you want us to meet."
"And who wants to meet you," she said with a smile. "Guys, this is Brian Lambert. He's in the same program as me at Crestmore." Turning to the guy, who was close to a foot taller than her, but thin as a rail, she added, "This is the band: Daria's the guitarist; the redhead is her sister Quinn, the lead singer; and the two dark-haired girls are Sandi, who plays bass, and Jane, the drummer." Out of the corner of her eye, Sandi saw Jane bow mockingly at the mention of her name.
"Pleased to meet you," Brian said, in a deep, rich voice. "Shall we get down to business?" His khakis and polo shirt screamed preppy and the designer logos indicated wealth as surely as the Crestmore MBA program.
"That's my signal to get out of here," Jodie said. "Good luck, guys!"
Sandi thought Jane looked more relaxed now that Jodie was gone, but Daria looked more tense. She wasn't surprised, therefore, that the auburn-haired guitarist took a confrontational tone. "So why should you be our manager?"
"Connections," he said with a smile. "You can ignore me and keep playing October's on Saturday night until the end of time. Or you can let me work the phones and you'll be playing five nights a week all over Boston. And once we get that rolling we can talk about New York and Philly, and making demos." He spread his hands. "It's up to you."
"No offense, but what does a Crestmore MBA student know about managing a band?" This from Quinn, to Sandi's surprise.
"The MBA's for networking, Red." Lambert ignored Quinn's frown. "Get to know the movers and the shakers, so when I own my own record company, I know where to go for investors and business help. Plus, my dad's footing the bill. And he's in the business, which is why I have connections in the first place."
Sandi briefly wondered if she should speak up, but Daria and Quinn seemed to be handling things well. Jane seemed to have the same idea she did, watching and listening as the grilling commenced. Over the next hour, Daria and Quinn gave a virtuoso performance of Bad Cop/Worse Cop, with neither Morgendorffer sister giving an inch and Brian Lambert expecting none. He met every one of their questions with a smile, didn't evade or hem and haw, and never lost his temper. And from what Sandi could tell, which she admitted to herself wasn't much, he really knew his stuff.
Finally the interrogation ended, and Lambert disappeared to the bar for a drink so the Girls could talk things over. "Well?" Daria said, Quinn glowering over her shoulder.
Sandi was pretty sure the guy would do, but wasn't sure how to say it, so she was relieved when Jane spoke up. "I think he'll do," the black-haired drummer said. "He knows his shit, and he makes a better impression than that other clown we met."
"Yeah," Sandi chimed in, now that Jane had freed her tongue. "He's a serious person who knows what he wants, not just some guy who thinks that tagging along behind a band will make him rich."
"That's true," Daria said, in a slow, thoughtful way. "He needs us, or someone like us, to reach his goals, as much as we need someone like him to reach ours. So both sides have something to gain."
Sandi could tell the three of them were in accord, and felt a smile creep across her face to match the one blooming on Jane's. She wondered for a moment why Daria still seemed torn until she remembered that one of them hadn't spoken.
"Am I the only one who thinks this all might be a little too easy?" Quinn said, a frown on her pretty face. "I mean, it took us months to find a bassist and now we're going to get our perfect manager in less than a week?"
"Hardly a week, Quinn," Jane said.
"We've wanted a manager for over a month," Quinn said. "We started seriously looking less than a week ago." Sandi once again made a mental note not to underestimate Quinn. The bubbly optimism and bouncy red hair hid a very sharp mind, as Sandi had reason to know.
"Okay, Quinn," Daria said, taking control of the situation in the way she was so good at. "What don't you like about him? Is it just a bad feeling, or is it something concrete?"
"It's in between," Quinn said. "It's more than just a feeling, but it's not something I can easily explain. He reminds me of Bret Strand—you remember him, right Sandi? The guy who used to make up and break up with Stacy every other month? He seemed like a great guy until you got to know him, but if there was any way he could take advantage of you, he would."
Sandi did remember Bret Strand, and her opinion of him was even lower than Quinn's. Going back over the conversation, she looked for telltale clues in Lambert's behavior to see if Quinn's feeling was right, but she couldn't remember any.
"I don't know, Quinn," Jane sounded dubious. "It's awfully thin to throw away a chance like this."
"I know," Quinn said. "But a guy who would cheat in love would probably cheat in money too. Do we really want to spend our prime years in lawyers' offices?"
"Well," Daria said, half-smiling, "There's something we could do to prevent that. After all, we have a pretty high-powered lawyer on permanent retainer, and she can at least make sure that we can get out of any contract we sign."
Quinn considered for a moment and then a slow smile crossed her face. "We could get out of just about anything, couldn't we? Even if Mom doesn't know all the ins and outs, I'm sure she knows someone who does."
"Does that satisfy your concerns?"
"Yes. I think it does."
They went back to the bar and told him to meet them tomorrow night to talk about percentages and the like, but Sandi didn't really listen. She was too busy hiding her jealously and wondering what it would be like to have a mother she could depend on.
They ended up meeting Lambert in Crestmore Square, which suited Daria fine, since she wasn't about to let someone she'd met once know where she lived. He arrived at the restaurant, a small, dimly lit Italian place around the corner from where Quinn worked, promptly at 8 like they'd agreed.
Jane, sitting to Daria's right, nudged her with an elbow. "Good to see he doesn't run on Spiral time, right amiga?" Daria gave her a half-smile.
"Well, hello again," he said, sliding into the seat between Quinn and Sandi. He took a slim leatherbound folder from the attaché case he was carrying and placed it on the table. "I took the liberty of drawing up a sample contract. You can take a look and tell me if it's something you're okay signing."
"We'll have our legal team look it over," Quinn said, taking the folder and passing it to Daria, who gave her sister a tiny nod.
If Lambert was surprised at that, he didn't show it. "I figure my cut is 20%, since that's what most managers get. I'm not married to the number, though."
This time it was Daria who responded. "I don't think we'll have a problem with that, provided you can get us better gigs than we can get ourselves. We pull in about $1,000 each every month. We'll give you 20% of every dollar over that. As far as royalties and things, we can address those when the time comes." He frowned at that, which she took as a good sign. She wasn't totally sure about the numbers, but the four of them had discussed it and the other Girls seemed comfortable.
"How about 10% of the first $5,000 gross every month, and 20% after," he finally said, and smiled wryly. "I'd like to at least get something if we happen to have a bad month."
Daria gave each of the other girls a searching look, but no one seemed upset. Jane was usually the one who kicked up a fuss about money, but whether she was truly satisfied or simply staying on her best behavior, her smile gave Daria a clear go-ahead. "I think that's fair." She rested her hand on the folder with the contract. "We'll get this back to you by the end of the week, and you can review it. If you're satisfied, we can get this signed."
Lambert nodded. "Sounds good. You girls are tough customers," he added, his smile growing wider. "But you have to be if we're going to go all the way to the top together."
All the Girls muttered some variant of "Thanks," and Daria wondered if the others found Lambert's words as trite as she did. Rather than brood on that, though, she took the bull by the horns. "So what are our next steps?"
"I'll start working the phones," he said, "while you get that contract looked over. The sooner we get the legal shit squared away, the sooner I get you better paying gigs."
"What kind of a time frame are we talking here?" Jane asked.
"I can have you on auditions in two weeks, without a problem," Lambert said.
Daria looked relieved. Two weeks would give her time to get safely graduated before introducing major upheaval into her life. "Sounds good," she said. "We'll have this back next week."
"And one other thing," he added, pointing a finger each at Daria and Quinn. "You both go by Morgan now. Morgendorffer is not a star's last name."
Daria met her sister's eyes with an identical look of shock. She suddenly wondered if the upheaval she had predicted had already arrived.
Author's Note: Done, done, done! I can't believe it took four fucking years to finish this thing, but here it is. Deepest thanks to smk, abe, and Gnome for heroic beta reading duties and making this story far better than it would have been otherwise. I'm not done with the Girls by a long shot, but I am done predicting when I'll be done with anything, but I live in hope that the next story won't take four years. The title, by the way, is adapted from Bruce Springsteen's "Blinded By The Light," which may be more familiar to some in the Manfred Mann version.