Chapter 2: No One Caught her Name

"Can't stay at home, can't stay in school

Old folks say, "You poor little fool"

Down the streets I'm the girl next door

I'm the fox you've been waiting for

Hello, daddy, hello, mom

I'm your ch-ch-ch-cherry bomb

Hello world I'm your wild girl

I'm your ch-ch-ch-cherry bomb

Stone Age love and strange sounds too

Come on, baby, let me get to you

Bad nights causing teenage blues

Get down ladies, you've got nothin' to lose"

The Runaways: Cherry Bomb (1976)

Feedback and Alleys

In the back alley behind the bar, Aubrey leaned against the wall, looking at the leather jacket in her hands. It belonged to the short brunette.

"So no one really caught her name?" Aubrey asked the girls as they loaded up their instruments into Stacie's van.

"No, sorry," Chloe said quietly as she loaded her amp into her car parked behind Stacie's van. Her voice was strained, and she avoided eye contact.

"She really was something," Stacie chimed in excitedly. "The way she crushed 'Trooper,' man, I was like, what!"

"Calm down! We were fine," Aubrey said, trying to maintain her composure.

"I thought we did better than fine. We were great! It'd be cool to get her and Flo to play together," Stacie reasoned.

Aubrey sighed and looked up. She knew Stacie was right. What happened in there was amazing. Whoever that brunette was, she was the piece they didn't realize was missing. "That's something we can discuss as a band, but we need to find her first."

"And even if we do find her, Flo will still not be happy about this," Chloe muttered, her mind elsewhere.

"Are you sure you only wanna find her because you want her to join the band?" Stacie asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Of course it is! Well, no! I don't want her to join the band! I want her to audition! What other reason could there possibly be?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe the fact that there were a bunch of face-melting guitar solos back there, and one face-melting kiss!" Stacie teased.

"Shut up! That was totally unprofessional. We still had a gig to play! And besides, that whole thing with the cops! Guys, we could have all gotten into trouble." Aubrey blushed, trying to deflect the attention.

"Yeah, because there's nothing hot about seeing a bad girl in handcuffs," Stacie teased. "Right, Chloe?"

"What?" Chloe asked, looking up, her thoughts interrupted.

"You alright, Chloe? You've been really quiet," Aubrey asked her friend.

"Like, too quiet," Stacie added.

"Um, yeah, sorry. I just have a headache," Chloe tried to smile, but it didn't reach her eyes.

"Do you need to go home? It's OK, we can take care of the rest of this stuff," Aubrey said softly.

"No, I'm okay," Chloe insisted, helping Stacie load up her drum set. But her hands trembled slightly, and she kept glancing at the leather jacket, her mind replaying the night she and the owner of said jacket spent together.

"Alright, Metal Bellas—God, what a stupid band name," Zeke said as he walked out into the alleyway, tapping his pack of smokes.

The trio straightened up and looked at the man. Aubrey, as the de facto leader, was the first one to break the silence. "Oh, Zeke! Hi! Did you like the show?"

"Oh, sure! My favorite part was when the police showed up," Zeke said as he placed a cigarette on his lips and lit it.

"I'm so sorry about that. It won't happen again…" Aubrey paused, and frowned and then hurriedly said "That girl won't play with us ever again!" And Aubrey immediately regretted her words.

"Aubrey!" Chloe gasped and glared at Aubrey.

"Dude! Seriously!" Stacie exclaimed, joining Chloe in glaring at Aubrey.

"That'd be dumb as all hell!" Zeke barked.

"What?" Aubrey asked, confused.

"Your girl is trending." Zeke showed them his phone. There was a reel going around of Beca nailing the solo and then kicking the phone out of the man's hand. It already had 20 thousand hits.

"We went viral?" Aubrey said with wide eyes.

"She went viral," Chloe corrected, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Bring her back, and I'll give you guys another shot."

"Really?" The trio asked in unison.

"And I mean I'll give you a real shot. I'm talking the 10 p.m. slot."

"You want us to headline…" Aubrey echoed, her voice faint.

"And you know what, if you pack the joint, I'll even let you compete on the battle of the bands."

Aubrey now herself feeling faint, "We'd be able to… play in the battle of the bands?"

Stacie and Chloe exchanged looks, they knew what this meant. This moved up Aubrey's band career path by a full year.

"Only if you bring her back and pack the joint, next Friday. You have seven days, ladies," Zeke warned, and went back inside.

"You got it, Zeke! We'll totally be ready!" Aubrey said animatedly as the man disappeared into his bar. Aubrey turned to her girls and squealed with excitement. "Oh my gosh you guys!"

"Looks like you have a really good excuse to find her now," Stacie teased.

"Shut up! That's not what this is about, you guys! We have an actual shot here! Oh my god! You know what this means! I wasn't planning we'd get this far so quickly! And it's all because of her!" Aubrey said excitedly, and then she caught herself, and quickly glanced over at Stacie with a small blush.

Stacie, catching the look and the meaning behind it, said, "Really, is that what this is about? Come on, we dated for like three months and broke up ages ago! I don't care who you kiss!"

"No, we all agreed that after that whole mess, there'd be no more dating within band members."

"Wow, you think our relationship was a mess?"

"I—no! That's not what I meant! I'm sorry, Stace!" Aubrey started to apologize.

Not able to keep her straight face any longer, Stacie started to laugh. "Aw, Bree, I'm sorry! I'm messing with you! You're right, it was a total mess. Breaking up was the right thing to do."

Aubrey glared at her friends and said, "Stacie! Ugh! See, this is why we all agreed that we shouldn't date anymore!"

"You agreed," Stacie crossed her arms and nodded to Chloe. "We really don't care."

Chloe perked up and said, "I don't know… I kinda get where you're coming from, Bree. The last thing I want is for us to break up because we all hooked up or something." She paused, biting her lip. "But if you really like her, then maybe that's a conversation we could have. We could put it up for a vote like we always do."

"I—uh, can we just stop talking about this! I'm not going to date her, and that's final!" Aubrey was blushing so hard that she was getting nervous. But in her mind, she was reliving that kiss. The unknown petite guitarist had been so brazen and infuriating, and then she had the gall to kiss her. And worst of all, she really liked it, which made her feel all confused and flustered.

"Right now, we just need to focus on finding her."

The girls went quiet for a second, and then frustrated, Aubrey yelled and turned to the rest of her bandmates, "Shit! You guys, how do we find her?"

"She might be in jail," Stacie figured, remembering the last they saw of the girl was her running from the cops.

Chloe nodded and gasped, "Oh! Aubrey, why don't you ask your dad?"

"I guess I could," Aubrey trailed off, not so sure about it. Her very conservative, high-ranking military father using government resources to track a potential criminal that she's incredibly attracted to might not be the best idea. Chloe's suggestion hit a nerve, but she couldn't let on how much it stung.

Chloe bit her lip, her mind racing. She wanted to help find the girl. The memory of their night together and the pain of being forgotten ate at her, but she swallowed hard, and pushed it down.

This is what's best for the band.

My Conditions

The professor bailed her out of jail sometime close to midnight. The police station was a cold place, and its bright fluorescent lights were uncomfortable and confusing. Thankfully she'd been left alone most of the time, it gave her enough time to replay the events of the day. She wasn't embarrassed about being detained—she'd been here before—but when she saw her father waiting for her outside, her stomach dropped. His hands were in his pockets and a solemn expression of disappointment on his face.

Beca hesitated for a second before facing him, taking a deep breath to settle her nerves she walked up to him, her gaze fixed on the floor.

"Seriously Beca?" His voice was stern but hurt.

She looked up at him, meeting his gaze briefly before looking away, "What?"

"One day! You've been here one day and I'm already bailing you out of jail."

Beca looked around, she needed to say something and quickly blurted out, "It wasn't my fault Dad! They just— you know, ran faster."

The real reason they caught me is that I stopped to kiss that blonde. She thought with a brief, private smile.

"Is that really the best excuse you can think of? Do you need another minute to think of a better one?"

"You put me on the spot! I had to say something you know." She snapped, frustrated.

"God, I hate when your mother is right," He shook his head.

"Hey! That's not fair Dad!" Beca's defensive tone softened, as guilt reared its ugly head.

"No, you wanna know what's not fair, I took you in, I gave you a sweet spot, a drumset, offered you an education, and for free mind you, and in less than 24 hours you're already getting in trouble."

Beca stared at her dad with her mouth wide, open as she remembered her mother screaming at her something quite similar, and she started to feel guilty, "I'm sorry, Dad, I don't know! I was in the middle of a solo! And this guy shoved a camera in my face and I just lost my cool."

"Sorry's not good enough Beca, look I talked it over with your mom and we agreed that as of right now you lost Lucille privileges."

"Whoa, Dad what the hell! I'm trying here."

"Are you? Look! I promise you'll get her back but I need to see some real changes here. The last thing I want is for my daughter to wind up in jail over something so stupid."

Beca stopped in her tracks and looked down, this was too much, she was here, wasn't she? She was trying her best, wasn't she? And now they took Lucy from her. Her father's words echoed in her mind, and she knew he was serious, "You know I can just leave right? I've done it before."

His father sighed, and his face changed into one of sadness, "Your mom said you'd say that, and you know what if you wanna leave then leave. But you're not taking the guitar or your car. Your mom made that very clear."

Beca groaned and kicked the gravel, "Ugh, this sucks. Fine! Suppose I stay… what do I need to do to get Lucy back?"

"Go to school at least finish the semester, get a job— a real job, nothing freelance. You can't keep using your mom's credit card all the time. And I know you're not going to like this, but I want you to start going to therapy again."

"Ugh! Therapy? Again? It doesn't work!"

"You need to do something about your anger Beca, you can't go around all your life losing it like that, it's not healthy, or safe. Anyway, those are the terms, take them or leave them."

Beca looked away, her eyes getting misty. She did not want him to see her like this, after thinking about it for a second, she rolled her eyes and said, "Fine. Whatever."

Beca got on the passenger seat of the SUV and stared out the window. For a second she thought about running away. Getting in the El Camino and trying to make it back west before the cops pulled her over for driving in a stolen vehicle. A train or a bus might be a better option but without her mom's credit card, it would be a rough hungry trip. She didn't want to go through that again. She couldn't avoid it any longer, Beca Mitchell would play the game and if it meant facing her demons head on then so be it.

My Father's Study

Aubrey stood behind the big imposing door to her father's study. She took a deep breath and just as she was about to knock she stopped. Her heart was racing, as it always did whenever she had to ask her father for a favor. But the girls had been looking for the mysterious brunette without much success and this was the last resort. She steeled herself and knocked on the door before she lost her nerve.

"Come in!" his voice came from behind the door, it was deep but soft.

Aubrey slowly opened the door and as she peered inside she said, "Um Daddy?"

"Yes, sweetheart?" John Posen asked without looking up from his Tom Clancy novel.

Aubrey walked into his study and stood in front of his desk, "Daddy, I was wondering if I could ask you for a favor?"

"How much do you need baby?" John responded barely listening and reached for his wallet.

Aubrey shook her head and said, "No it's not that, thank you though."

John looked up from his magazine with a frown, and asked, "Oh?"

"Yes, I was wondering if you could look into something for me?"

"What is it?"

"A friend of mine got detained today and I wanted to know if she's alright?"

"Aubrey, a friend of yours got detained?"

"Yeah, but it totally wasn't her fault! Some guy was recording her and she kicked the phone off his hands."

"She sounds like trouble Aubrey. How well do you know this friend?"

"Not a lot, she kinda just helped me and the girls out…"

"Wait does this have anything to do with that silly band of yours?"

Aubrey gritted her teeth, she hated when her father made light of her love for music and her desire to make it as a musician. She understood that her father wanted her to be more like him, traditional, conservative, straight, and very much straight-laced. She was that at one point in her life but when she found metal, she found liberation. However she was still financially dependent on him so biting her tongue she just said, "Yes Daddy,"

John pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned, he really didn't care for the fact that his only daughter had dreams of becoming a rock star, "You know how I feel about your little band, Aubrey."

Aubrey groaned internally and knew that it was time to turn on the waterworks, she lunged herself to her knees and grabbed his hands, "But Daddy! Please? I'm just worried about her, she's a good girl!" she gave him the widest set of puppy eyes she could muster.

John Posen was a man of many titles: a military general accustomed to commanding thousands, a district court judge who held the fate of citizens in his hands, and a hopeful future congressman representing millions of voices. But he was powerless against the tears of his babygirl. Sighing, he held his hand up, "Fine, baby. Hand me my phone."

Aubrey grinned and dashed to bring him his cell phone.

After a few minutes, John Posen paced around the living room on the phone talking to someone in the police station. Aubrey sat on his nice leather couch and followed her father's pacing with her eyes, the anticipation was driving her crazy. After bidding farewell, he hung up.

Aubrey stood up and asked, "Well?"

The man pocketed the phone and said, "Well, her name is Beca Mitchell, and her dad just bailed her out."

"Beca Mitchell? And she's free?" Aubrey finally relaxed, she was half expecting to drive to the station and bail her out herself.

"Yeah she has a hearing next week, she's likely to get community service and probation, But Aubrey…"

"Community service? Hmm? What?"

"Looks like, she's getting off easy, this isn't her first offense."

"It's not?"

"She's got quite a bit of a rap sheet, looks like she's from LA, Highland Park, and has been detained a few times, one count for destruction of private property, one count for trespassing and one for aggravated assault."

"Assault?"

"Yeah, looks like she's no stranger to a scrap."

"Oh," Aubrey looked away concerned, she knew scraps weren't unusual in a show, she'd seen mosh pits before and understood things could escalate, but this felt like it could be worse.

"Aubrey, I don't want you dating this girl."

She wasn't expecting this, and it snapped her out of her training of thought, "What? But Daddy!"

"You heard me, Aubrey. She's trouble, and you know my situation with the GOP is already dicey enough with… your you know, proclivities," He gestured towards her.

"My proclivities?" Aubrey closed her eyes. Ever since she came out to him a few years ago, he's always been like this, he can't even use the proper terminology. Aubrey wanted to be understanding and patient towards him, but after a while, the constant invalidation and microaggressions tore her down. Every once in a while she'd step up and say something. And while tonight was not the most appropriate of times, a daring brunette guitarist had inspired her. "You mean about me being gay?"

John Posen tried his best to restrain his urge to shiver at the words, "You know what I mean, your mom made it clear, and we agreed to um support you but, I have to think about my candidacy for congress and between my daughter being gay, your little rock band and this girl… it's just going to bring all sorts of trouble for my campaign. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Oh, um, yes, well she's part of the band and I have a rule about dating among band members." Aubrey said.

He exhaled and visibly relaxed, "Good, keep it that way."

Aubrey's mood darkened. She had told the rest of the band that she wouldn't date the mysterious brunette, but they all knew it was posturing. But now with her dad's warning, everything changed. Now her financial stability was on the line, "Yes, Daddy."

Though Time and Generations

The year was 1970 and a ten-year-old girl sat in front of her TV and as she browsed through the channels she ran into a concert and curious she left it there, for exactly one second, and that's all it took. A young black man with a light green bandana on a colorful stage played a white electric Fender Stratocaster guitar. He sang about a Voodoo Child, and his body swayed and contorted as if possessed by the electric-shaped music his fingers elicited from the instrument. It was a beautiful mesh of chaos and sonic mastery that shredded through the souls of those lucky enough to be there. The little girl stared with wide unblinking eyes as each distorted note, trill, riff, ping, wail, palm-muted note, squeal, and slide reshaped the course of not just her life, but of her entire bloodline. That same little girl would weep all through the night when she learned that the young musician had passed.

The year was 1975 and a fifteen-year-old girl sat in front of an auditorium playing a Spanish acoustic guitar. The piece was Recuerdos de la Alhambra. Her face had a calm and gentle expression as she flawlessly performed the omnipresent tremolo technique. Her audience was captivated by her performance, and when she finished the melodic and haunting piece, the audience cheered. As she humbly bowed, her heart yearned for more. On her way home, she came across a music store, and there in the window it was. The white electric Flying V Gibson guitar. Its white color brought back memories of that young musician, he had awakened in her a fire for music that for a brief second had almost burnt down to embers. This guitar, this proverbial Excalibur in the stone, asked her to try her luck and rule the entire kingdom. She walked in with a classic guitar and walked out with an electric guitar. She lovingly named it Lucille as a gentle homage to that young musician's mother.

The year was 1985 and a twenty-five-year-old woman stood on the stage, holding a white flying V guitar. Her hands flew through the fret with amazing dexterity, her rhythm, speed, and technical prowess were to be envied. And the faceless masses that screamed in fervor fueled her smile. She glanced behind her towards the drummer, a charming young man with blonde hair, green eyes, and impeccable rhythm, he smiled back.

The year was 1995 and a six-old girl was covering her ears as her parents shouted in the kitchen. The mother, noticing the little girl went into her closet pulled out a white guitar, handed it to the little girl and whispered, "Hey baby, can you do me a favor, can you grab Lucy and take her to your bedroom? It's past her bedtime and she's afraid of the dark. Could you look after her?" The little girl looked at the enigmatic white guitar with sparkling eyes and nodded.

And ever since that day, the white V-shaped guitar and that little girl have never been apart.

Which is why Beca Mitchell tossed and turned all night. Her father hadn't been kidding, and for the first time since she was six years old, she slept without the one constant in her life, Lucy.

She gripped her pillow tight and scrounged her eyes. But it was all pointless, sleep would not come tonight. She needed a distraction, she thought about the events of the day. Sure she had been chased by the cops, and been detained, but that wasn't all that new for her. What had bugged her about the whole ordeal was seeing her dad's disappointed look.

She shook those thoughts away and focused on something else, A blonde woman, with a wide toothy smile and stormy blue eyes that resembled her own. That blonde had been so nervous, but when she sang, she gave it everything she had.

Beca had been playing the guitar since she was 6 years old. And in part because of her mother's connections and her unique talent played with multiple bands since she was fifteen. By the time she was sixteen, she had played at multiple small venues and even some medium-sized ones. She had met hundreds of musicians, some talented, and some not so talented. But she had never met a trio quite like them. She'd never seen a drummer sing The Trooper like that while keeping a flawless and energetic beat. And while she'd many amazing bass players, she'd also never seen one quite so dynamic, and play a guitar solo with her bass, with fingers almost as fast as hers. That girl was pure talent, she could just tell the girl was a guitarist at heart.

But her thoughts kept coming back to the blonde. The way she sang had given her goosebumps, she barely ever had that reaction anymore. No one had blown her away like that in a long time. Too bad she never got her name. Beca groaned this wasn't the time to think about dating, this was the time to find a way to get Lucille back. Although if she just happened to get a girlfriend along the way it wouldn't necessarily be the worst thing.

As much as she hated it, to get Lucille back she'd have to play her dad's game, tomorrow she'll start looking for a job. Beca buried her face in her pillow and screamed.

In my Quiet

The door creaked open with the soft jingle of her keys and many colorful keychains, and Chloe Beale stepped inside, letting it close behind her with a heavy click. She didn't bother turning on the overhead light. The glow from the streetlamps outside bled in through the blinds, casting lines across her modest little one bedroom apartment—clean but lived-in, filled with warmth, a few scattered potted plants, a small kitchenette, a secondhand couch, a cozy desk tucked into the far corner like a little shrine. But her pride and joy was the record player and her modest collection of vinyls next to her desk.

She kicked off her boots and placed her bass case carefully against the wall, next to her bookshelf, then walked over to a small cluster of frames on a narrow shelf. Two photographs: one of her mom, another of her dad, each smiling with the same pale blue eyes.

She sighed and offered them a small, lopsided smile.

"Hey, Mom. Hey, Dad." Her voice was soft, almost a whisper. "Gig went… better than expected." she informed their ghosts.

Chloe pulled off her jacket and hung it over the back of a chair, then stepped closer to the photos. Her fingers gently touched the glass, as if she could feel their warmth on the other side.

"I wish you'd been there," she said, her voice cracking just slightly. "You'd have loved it. Even if it was in that sketchy bar you never liked Dad."

A quiet laugh escaped her.

She took a breath, then turned away from the shelf and made her way to the desk in the corner, where a spiral notebook sat open next to a battered old acoustic guitar, clearly with stories to tell about the redhead and her growth as a musician. Chloe sat down slowly, reaching for the guitar with practiced ease. She ran her fingers along the neck gently, like greeting an old friend.

She didn't play yet. Just sat with it in her lap. Staring down at the page of lyrics, messy and half-scribbled with colorful doodles and hearts on the margins.

Her eyes lingered on the title at the top—"Beneath the Storm in Her Eyes." A name that meant nothing to anyone else, but her.

"You remember that girl I told you guys about? From the bar?" She asked the emptiness.

"Well you are not going to believe this, but she was there," Chloe continued, her eyes suddenly glinting with excitement, but then she blinked and as she exhaled, she visibly deflated.

"I don't think she recognized me… It's fine. I mean, it was dark. And I was wearing the stupid Gene Simmons makeup." She chuckled again, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.

She shifted the guitar and strummed once—soft, G chord that hung in the air.

"I didn't know she could play like that," she admitted, her voice barely a breath. But I probably should have known… those fingers of hers. She blushed as the memory from that night reappeared in her mind for the one millionth time.

"God. She was so… angry. But it was like poetry." Just like that night.

She stopped playing the guitar for a second and looked towards their picture.

"I really thought she might say something. Even just a look. I wonder if it was a one-night thing for her."

The silence stretched. Chloe stared at the page, her pen tapping lightly against the desk.

"…It wasn't, for me."

She sniffed and picked up the pen again, writing one more line beneath the chorus. Then, she picked up the guitar and began to play—slow, melancholy chords filling the dark apartment.

As the song played, the streetlights blinked softly outside her window.

And in the stillness, Chloe sang—not for a crowd, not for a bar, but just for herself, and for the memory of that girl who was the very first person to listen to her songs, and clap for her.

To be continued.

Author's Notes:

Update: I meant to update Snowdrift this weekend but work has been consuming me so progress is slow. But it's coming along and I promise it'll be up next weekend.

I have several chapters of this story almost ready to go they just need copious amounts of polishing and organizing. I really love this story, it's so much fun! I loved the feedback I got last time!

Through Time and Generations was such a trip to write. I was literally watching this on a loop as I wrote it;

https/watch?v=qFfnlYbFEiE

I think there have been lots of musicians that were inspired by Hendrix. I love the idea that this iconic performance changed the life of not just one musician but their entire bloodline.

So what did you think? Did you like it? What was your favorite part?

Please leave a comment it inspires me. Thank you so much for reading it means the world to me.