“Right,” he said when they finished. “I’ll print twenty of the best shots and a contact sheet and send them over this afternoon. You’re staying at the Crown Towers?”
“Yeah, we are. Can’t you just email them to me?” Pilar asked.
Staggerford gave her a look. “You’re going to reproduce a printed image, you need to see a printed image. I’ll send the files after you’ve seen the photos.”
“Okay, thanks.”
The photos arrived in the early afternoon. Pilar called Geordie. They woke up the band and assembled in their suite to review the photos, spreading the glossy black-and-white prints across the dining table.
“Nice,” Randall mumbled. “Real nice.”
Charlie cracked open a beer. “Uh-huh.”
“Don’t do that.” Pilar took it away from him. “If you start drinking now, you won’t stop and you’ll be trashed by the concert.”
“Will not!” he protested.
“Yeah, you will.” Randall tossed his bangs out of his eyes. “Whaddya think?”
“This one.” Donny pointed unerringly to a shot of Loup standing with her weight on her right hip, thumbs hooked in her low waistband, her gaze direct and challenging. He sighed. “Definitely this one.”
“Yep,” Pilar agreed.
“You sure?” Geordie shuffled through the photos. “Lots of good shots here.”
They exchanged a glance. “We’re sure,” Pilar said.
“Let ’em pick,” Randall said. “They know what’s gonna appeal to the… whaddya call ’em? One in a hundreds?”
Donny sighed. “Yeah.”
“And the others are gonna buy the shit anyway ’cause it’s the trendy thing to do,” he finished. “They don’t care what it looks like.”
“Okay.” Pilar pulled out her Dataphone. “I’ll get the file from Mr. Staggerford and send it on to promotion. We’re just doing white on black, right? T-shirts and camis?”
“Hang on a tick.” Geordie caught her arm. “I’ll need to see the final design to approve it.”
“Of course.”
“And Kate… the band’s name’s going to be prominent, right? Big font? This is all about Kate, right?”
She gave him a look of wide-eyed innocence. “Yeah, of course!”
Geordie returned it dubiously. “You’re disturbingly good at this.”
Pilar smiled, dialing. “Turns out I’m good at all kinds of things.”
“Ah, fuck me.” Donny stared at the multiple images of Loup while Pilar talked on the phone. “Wish there was a way to make more of you.”
“I’m sorry.” Loup touched his shoulder lightly. “I really am. This is uncomfortable for me too.”
He looked hopeful. “You don’t—”
“No.”
Donny sighed again and picked up the photo they’d chosen. “You think maybe I could keep this one?”
“I guess.” Loup eyed him. “You’re not gonna do anything gross with it, are you?”
“No!” He flushed violently.
Charlie giggled. “Are too, mate. You’re gonna wank off all over it.”
“Ew.” She plucked the photo from Donny’s hands. “Okay, I really am sorry, but we’ve got to work together, you know? I don’t want to have to think about that.”
“He does it anyway,” Charlie informed her.
“Sod off!” Donny shoved him. They scuffled until Loup parted them forcibly, holding them apart at arm’s length.
“No fighting,” she said sternly. “No teasing, and no talking about wanking, okay?”
They agreed reluctantly.
“Good boys.” Loup let them go.
“Hey, baby.” Pilar ended her call. “What was that all about?”
She looked at Donny’s flushed face and felt bad for him. “Nothing.”
“Okay.”
THIRTY-TWO
They played two sold-out gigs in Melbourne, then went on to a smaller venue in Hobart. There, the demographic skewed noticeably older than teenage girls and the merchandising caught up with them.
“Selling like hotcakes,” Bill Jones reported backstage. Loup worked the heavy bag without comment. “You’re a full-blown fad, girlie.”
She slammed her fists into the bag, throwing in a couple of roundhouse kicks for good measure, making the bag teeter on its base. “Good.”
Jones shrugged. “Enjoy.”
Kate played.
Fans rushed the stage.
Loup picked them up and put them back.
The fan boards buzzed with rumor and speculation. Randall continued to work on new songs. He played one of them on the bus to Sydney, singing and playing acoustic guitar.
“It’s called ‘Cages,’ ” he explained.
The song was about loss and despair, and the cages of fear, paranoia, and hatred that people build. And it was about courage and hope being the keys to unlock those prisons. The melody wed the upbeat pop harmonies that Kate was known for with the harder, driving sound the band was evolving, contrasting with the lyrics in unexpected ways.
It was a really good song.
“Wow,” Pilar said softly when he finished. “Wow.”
Randall smiled at her. “You like it?”
“Yeah, a lot.”
“It’ll sound real different when we’re done. Charlie’s working on a bass line that’ll take it to the next level. But you get the idea.”
“I think it’s pretty amazing,” Loup offered.
“Thanks.” He turned his smile on her, and it was genuine and sincere without a trace of guile. “You inspired it, the both of you. I’m glad you like it.”
“You’ve got some interesting stuff going on behind all that hair, Randall,” Pilar said.
He laughed. “Yeah, well… you’re a little surprising in your own right, eh? How many people figure out you’re more than just a pretty face and a world-class set of tits?”
“Not many,” she acknowledged. “But it took me a while to figure it out myself.”
“I knew,” Loup said.
Pilar nudged her. “You don’t have to be all smug about it.”
“I’m not!”
“Yeah, you are.” Her voice softened. “But I forgive you.”
“Oh, go on,” Donny said morbidly. “Kiss her. You know you want to. Everyone on the bus can tell when you do. Everyone on the fucking planet can tell.”
“Hey!” Pilar said indignantly. “I work very hard at being professional.”
Charlie snickered.
“I do!”
“And you do a very good job,” Randall said in a diplomatic tone. “But Donny’s right. Anyway, we don’t mind, do we?” he asked the bus at large.
A chorus of “No!” answered.
“Oh, fine.” Pilar kissed Loup.
The bus applauded.
Donny sighed.
They played a sold-out gig at a major stadium in Sydney and had so many stage rushers that Bill Jones had to double up on onstage security.
“She’s become a fucking liability!” he railed at Geordie afterward. “They’re coming here just to try to get past her!”
Kate’s manager folded his arms. “And do they?”
“Not yet, no. But this is ridiculous.”
Geordie shrugged. “A draw’s a draw. Right now, she’s a big one.”
In the hotel room, Loup rolled her shoulders and tipped her head from side to side, cracking her neck. “Fuck,” she murmured. “I’m tired.”
“Sorry, baby.” Pilar knelt behind her, rubbing her shoulders. “Does that help?”
“Yeah. That’s nice, thanks. It’s not that hard lifting them, it’s actually lowering them. Puts a weird strain on my back and neck.”
Pilar kissed the back of her neck. “Loup, you don’t have to be out there every night.”
“Yeah, I kind of do.” She turned, her gaze searching Pilar’s face. “I mean, we started this. We made it a thing. There hasn’t been any news from the States. It’s like nothing’s happening. And you said that journalist wanted me there at the interview tomorrow? From Rolling Stone?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Well, it’s a start, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.” Pilar looked worried. “But it’s not worth it if you burn yourself out, baby. I don’t think you’re getting enough to eat, and you’re not meditating like Christophe showed you. You skipped the last two days.”
“Did I really?”
“Yeah, you did.”
“Okay, okay. I’ll make up for it. I’ll do it right now.” Loup closed her eyes and sank deep into herself, thinking slow thoughts. Twenty minutes later, a knock at the door and the smell of charbroiled beef tugged her out of it. She sniffed the air. “Hamburgers? The really good, expensive kind?”
Pilar gave her a wicked smile. “You really are a little animal, aren’t you?”
“I guess.”
“Eat.” Pilar shoved a burger at her.
Loup ate, ravenous.
“I thought so. Loup, we need to talk about what you’re going to say at the interview tomorrow. How much you’re going to tell them, you know?”
“Yeah, I was thinking about that.” She took another bite, chewed, and swallowed. “Do you remember that article I used to have? The one my mother kept about the Lost Boys?”
“An army of ravening wolf-men poised at America’s back door,” Pilar said. “Yeah, I remember. But Jaime always said that was mostly bullshit.”
“It was.” Loup ate a few fries. “But there was like a kernel of truth in it. Maybe just enough, but not too much. For all anyone knows, some of the original kin could have escaped to Canada. Do you think you could get a copy?”