Chapter 29

"Hey, Emma?" Emma looked up at Joellen's cheerful voice. The older girl fiddled absently with a bead at the end of one of her many dark braids. "I was wondering if you'd like to work on the end of camp production?"

Emma's eyes narrowed. "The what?"

"Well, on the last day of camp, we put on a show. Counsellors for campers, I mean. There's singing and dancing and it's a lot of fun."

"Okay…" Emma said, "but I'm a camper."

Joellen nodded. "Yes, but you write songs and we… don't."

"I wrote one song," Emma countered. "And I can't write music, just words."

"That's fine," Joellen replied. "We usually don't write original music, we just come up with new words to an old song. Bonus points if you can riff off the title, like… uh… I dunno, 'The Starlight Bunch' instead of 'The Brady Bunch' or…" Her voice trailed off. "You can see why we can use the help," she said with a self-conscious smile. "So, how about it?"

Emma pressed her lips together. She was still upset about the benefit, but maybe if she wrote some good songs for the camp, Jerrica would change her mind! Then she remembered that the benefit would be held before the last day of camp. So much for that idea. Still, Joellen looked so hopeful, that Emma didn't want to turn her down outright. "I'll think about it, okay?"

Joellen grinned. "Sure. Let me know by the end of the week?"

"Yeah," Emma said. With any luck, Joellen would have picked someone else by then anyway.

"What's the matter?" Kimber asked, sitting down beside Stormer and looking down meaningfully, to where the blue-haired woman's fingers were twisting in her lap.

Stormer shook her head. "I guess I've never been very brave," she said.

"Hey, you're braver than you think," Kimber said. "It took guts to walk away from the Misfits and record a single with me back then."

"That wasn't guts; that was frustration," Stormer countered.

"And those publicity shoots Eric set up after he signed you? I still get dizzy just watching the footage of you guys on those stunt bikes done up like guitars."

"Does it count as courage if you only got up on the thing because you were afraid of looking like a wuss if you wouldn't?"

"It does in my book," Kimber said, smiling a little. "So…"

Stormer took a breath. "So, I'm not ashamed of who I am and I'm not ashamed of us. All the same, what Jerrica said about owning our relationship, getting out there with our story before Roxy—or anyone else—does… it sounds great. In theory," she added. "But… I don't know if I'm ready for it to be out there. I'm not saying I want to hide," she said quickly. "But I mean, there has to be a middle ground between keeping it secret and broadcasting it to the world. Why can't we just… go up on stage and rock the audience and not make a big… statement about stuff that's nobody's business anyway?"

"We can," Kimber assured her. "Look, Jerrica may have suggested coming out, but… she should know better. It's not like she's never had secrets she wanted kept out of the press."

"You keep bringing that up every so often," Stormer observed. "Is it… something you can share now?"

Kimber sighed. "Not really. Sorry. I guess I'm frustrated about it, but I shouldn't mention it if I'm not ready to tell you the whole story. And maybe I am, or I would be, but… it's not my story to tell."

"But our relationship is."

"Yeah. If we both decide we want to." She leaned over and gave Stormer a quick peck on the cheek. "Until then, we can keep our private life private."

"Until the next time someone catches us doing something in public."

Kimber nodded. "Well, we can worry about that when it happens. And hey, people aren't as narrow-minded now as they were thirty years ago. Maybe by the time word gets out, nobody will care anyway."

Stormer thought about that. A tiny smile curved her lips. "That would be… something," she murmured. "We spend days… weeks… agonizing over whether to tell. We brace for the backlash, screw up our courage, and make a statement… And the whole world shrugs its collective shoulders, yawns, and says, 'Oh…kayyy, but when's your next album?'"

Kimber winced. "I don't know if that would be a good thing or a bad thing."

"Me either," Stormer admitted. "But it would definitely be a thing." She giggled. And after a moment, Kimber did too.

"Riot," Jerrica repeated. "That's…" She paused and then continued wryly, "all right. Maybe it's not so shocking. Roxy never struck me as his type, though."

"Not every hookup is true love," Phyllis pointed out. "Sometimes it can just be a night of fun."

Jerrica was silent for a moment. Then she said, "But sometimes the nights after that night of fun can be… I mean…"

"Just say it, Sandra Dee," Phyllis snapped, but there was less anger than resignation in her voice. "She didn't plan on getting a kid out of it."

"And it sounds like she never told Rory about her until now either."

"No," Phyllis said. "When he called me, he swore that had he known, he would have been there from the start. I believe him," she added. "I guess Roxy had her reasons. No point now in getting into what she should have or could have done. She didn't."

She paused for a moment. "Don't know why I'm spilling my guts to you," she went on gruffly. "You're just gonna tell me that if Rory's her father, she should be with him, right?"

Jerrica hesitated. "I think that if Hana May were a couple of years older, and she wanted to stay with you, a judge would be more likely to listen to her, but… she's four. It's not really about 'should' or 'shouldn't'. It's about what'll probably happen if Rory decides he wants her."

"Tell me something else I don't know," said Phyllis. "Damn. I love that kid. And if I thought Rory would be a lousy parent, I'd fight tooth and nail for her. But I don't think that. And a messy custody fight is not what that kid needs."

"What are you going to do?" Jerrica asked.

"Rory wants to meet her," Phyllis said dully. "I'm going to find a time. And then, if he wants her… I'm not her legal guardian. Roxy just asked me to look after her over a year ago and I said yes. There's no paperwork. Under those circumstances, there are legal options I can explore, but I don't know if they'll be in the kid's best interest."

"Is there a lawyer with the department you can talk to?" Jerrica asked. "Or do you want me to make a few calls?"

Phyllis hesitated. "I don't want the department involved," she said. "Not unless I've got no other choice. Or, at least, not until I've gone over my place with a fine-toothed comb and made sure that if a colleague were to show up for a surprise home safety inspection, I'd pass with flying colors. Yeah. If you can make a call or two… yeah. Thanks."

"A hundred thousand bucks?" Roxy gaped. "Where the hell am I supposed to get my hands on that kind of money?"

"If you don't have anyone to post bail for you," the judge replied, "you may contact a bail bond agency to make arrangements. Until then, you're remanded to Century Regional Detention Center in Lynwood to await trial."

Roxy shrank back as a bailiff approached. She cast a pleading look at the public defender she'd met that morning. "Can't you do something?"

The attorney shook his head. "Not about this," he said, not unkindly. "I'm going to do everything I can to get you out as soon as possible, but meanwhile, you have to go to jail."

Roxy put up a token struggle as the bailiff took her arm to escort her to the courtroom door, where two uniformed women waited, but with her wrists cuffed, she knew she couldn't escape. If she tried, she'd just be digging herself in deeper. So she squared her shoulders, straightened her chin, and ordered her knees not to knock as she pasted a defiant expression on her face and let him lead her away.

Kimber looked up as the courtroom door opened, and a woman wearing a stylish trench coat, turban, and dark glasses hurried out. "Well?" she asked.

Stormer pulled off the sunglasses. "A hundred g's," she said.

Kimber let out a low whistle. "Have you got it?"

"I can get it," Stormer said. "But I don't think I can get it fast. I need to call my accountant to make sure, but I think most of my money is tied up in investments. I just don't keep that much cash lying around."

Kimber frowned thoughtfully. "Well, then, I think we have two options. We can talk to Jerrica—"

"Ask her to help me get the person who kidnapped one of her girls back out on the street? I couldn't."

"Okay," Kimber said. "In that case, we need to talk to a bail bond agency. If we lay down about ten percent, they'll front the rest." She hesitated. "The catch is that if Roxy makes a run for it, they'll hire a bounty hunter to bring her back. Plus you'll lose your ten percent."

Stormer nodded slowly. "I can get ten thousand together, and if it comes to it, I can afford to lose it. I don't want to, but Roxy's still a friend. Even if she's been acting like a jerk lately."

Kimber smirked. "That's a mild way of putting it. Especially coming from a Misfit."

"Former Misfit," Stormer sighed, but she was smiling a little. "And I know she's been dealing with a lot over these last few years. That doesn't excuse what she's done, but I just… want her to know that she still has a friend, if she wants one." She sighed again. "Does that sound totally off-base?"

"Nah," Kimber said, elbowing her playfully. "Just sounds like one of the reasons I'm glad I know you."

"Yeah?" Stormer asked, smiling just a little more.

Kimber nodded, her blue eyes wide and guileless. "Yeah."

"It's a nice idea," Julie said, "but…"

"Hey, what if one of the bands pulls out at the last minute and there's a hole in the line-up?" Emma said. "If we're ready, we could step in!"

"But Jerrica said we're not ready," Kyla protested.

"Yeah, and she's right. But we could be. Or we could be better anyway." She hoped. It had sounded so much more possible when she and Wendy had been talking about things, but now her earlier doubts were resurfacing. Maybe this wasn't going to be such a good idea, after all.

"Wait. You guys. Remember Laura Holloway?" Marla said slowly. Julie and Emma looked blank, but Kyla nodded.

"She wasn't here for very long," Kyla said with a frown, "but yeah, I remember."

"Well… she got to perform with Jem and the Holograms."

Emma leaned forward, interested.

Kyla's frown deepened. "It was just one number with them, not a whole benefit."

"Yeah, but I bet we could be just as good as she was, if not better."

"How about this," Julie said. "The next time Jem comes to the mansion—and with the benefit coming up, you can bet she's gonna—we can perform for her and ask her if we can go on. If she says 'yes,' then Jerrica will have to go along with it."

Marla grinned. "Good thinking."

"We're gonna have to be really good," Kyla warned.

Emma smiled grimly. "We will be," she said.

"Well, in that case," Julie said slowly, "we're going to need more songs."

Emma's smile suddenly felt strained. What on earth was she getting herself into? "Uh, sure," she said, hoping that nobody else heard the anxiety in her voice.

Roxy looked around glumly. She didn't have a cellmate; apparently being famous had a few perks, but that was the most that could be said for the accommodations. She tried to tell herself she'd lived in worse-looking dives, but the truth was that she hadn't. Her old neighborhood had been working-class, but if the walls of her bedroom had been this bleak, she'd never known, for her father had wallpapered over them. Once she'd joined the Misfits, Pizzazz had set them all up with her dad's money until they'd made enough to buy their own pads. In Vegas, she might not have stayed in the ritziest places, but they'd been a far cry from what she was looking at now!

Despondently, she sank down on her bunk and fought to stay angry. If she didn't stay angry, she was going to get scared. If she got scared in a place like this, she was dead. Hadn't she seen enough prime time TV and movies of the week to know that much? She couldn't look weak and she couldn't appear vulnerable, no matter what.

"Pellegrini!"

Her head jerked up. "Here!" she gasped. Then she scowled. "I mean, who wants ta know?"

"Grab your stuff and come with me."

Roxy blinked. "What stuff? What's going on?"

A tight smile cracked the woman's face. "You just made bail."

"I'm okay with it, really," Deirdre sighed. "I mean, it's not like I'm afraid she'll try again." She sighed. "Actually, I'm still kicking myself for falling for her trick in the first place."

"Don't," Jerrica said. "The Misfits used to pull that kind of stuff all the time, but that was a few years ago and most of them grew out of it." She frowned. "I can still give you that phone number, if you want."

"For the counsellor?" Deirdre shook her head. "I don't think I need to. I-I mean, okay, if I start having trouble sleeping or I start getting scared of being in dark storage spaces or something, sure, but… I think I'm managing. Really."

Jerrica nodded. "All right. But if that changes… All I'm saying is that if someone were to call you a weakling because you had to get stitches in your leg, you'd know that they were being ridiculous. If someone were to call you a weakling because you had to see a therapist…"

"I know," Deirdre said firmly. "And it's great knowing that if I need one, it won't be a problem. But for now, I've been pouring everything I've got into my guitar and after a couple of jam sessions, everything's pretty much under control."

"And Roxy being out on bail won't change that?"

Deirdre shook her head. "I don't think so."

Jerrica nodded. "Okay."

"It's done?" Kimber asked, as Stormer came out of the office with an unreadable expression.

"Yeah," Stormer said, "but not by me. The guy called the prison to make the arrangement and found out that someone had beaten me to it."

Kimber blinked. "Who?"

"That's what I'd like to know!"

The gate opened with a loud creak and Roxy stepped out. She looked around and broke into a broad smile when she saw who was waving at her. "I knew you'd come throu—!" she started to gush.

"Hey, Roxy!"

She turned automatically at the sound of her name and several flashbulbs exploded before her eyes. "Hey! Quit it!" she snarled.

"Roxy!" Another voice to her left.

"Roxy!" Her right.

Voices were jabbering at her, overlapping, and she couldn't separate out what each one was saying. And then someone shoved a microphone into her face and demanded loudly, "Is it true that you abandoned a toddler so you could party it up in Vegas?"