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“I get it, Mom,” said Daria Morgendorffer, as she folded laundry, the cordless phone tucked between her shoulder and her cheek. She rolled her eyes at the wall of her bedroom as she put another T-shirt on the neat pile on the bed.
“You're getting in tomorrow night and going to straight to the hotel.” She turned back to the laundry basket. “You told me this yesterday, and fifteen minutes ago in this very conversation.”
With a few twitches of her hands another shirt was neatly folded. “I am excited, Mom, but not excited enough to forget simple instructions.”
Looking down at the pile, she sighed heavily. “I know. I love you too, Mom. Give my love to Dad, and I'll see you Friday morning.”
Returning the phone to its base, she rolled her head to loosen the cramp in her neck. “Why do I do that?” she muttered to herself. She grabbed the pile of T-shirts and and put them in the top drawer on the left side of her armoire. Then she took a pile of hangars from the right side, which functioned as a closet. “Now, if I can just get this stuff hung up before Quinn gets here.”
She had two dresses and three skirts on hangers when the phone rang again. Resisting the urge to fling the hangers across the room, she instead dropped them on the bed and grabbed the phone off the base. “Morgendorffer. What is it?” she snapped.
She rolled her eyes again at what she heard. “It's Morgan on stage, Brian. When I'm in my own apartment, it's still Morgendorffer.”
Her expression darkened. I don't know if he thinks he's funny or he's trying to jerk me around, but I don't like it. “We discussed this. No auditions this weekend. We play LL Wolfs on Thursday and Octobers on Saturday. And Friday, in case you've forgotten or don't care, I graduate college. I'll be a little busy.”
Whatever she heard didn't help. “I get it, but opportunity is going have to knock again next week, unless you want to see me attack our manager before the band gets famous. Now if you'll excuse me....” The buzz of the doorbell filled the apartment. “FUCK!” Daria shouted, half into the phone. “I gotta go.”
Chucking the phone on the unmade bed, she considered the general chaos and the half-folded laundry. “I'll finish it someday,” she sighed to herself and headed downstairs to let Quinn in.
***
Quinn knew Daria was going to be annoyed, so when the door opened on her sister's even-more-unsmiling-than-usual face, she wasn't surprised. But she was on a mission, one given to her by the highest of powers, and a little thing like Daria's attitude wasn't going to stop her.
“Hi, sis! Are you ready to go shopping?” She grabbed Daria's elbow before her sister could turn and go back up the stairs.
“Dammit, Quinn!” Daria said. “You know I have no time for this.”
“No excuses, you mean,” Quinn said, smiling at her sister's discomfort. “We're just going to the Galleria, and Sandi put aside some really cute outfits at Cashman's for you, so we won't even be there for that long.”
“I'm graduating, Quinn, not going on Total Request Live,” Daria groused, but Quinn was able to lead her out of the doorway without having to pull her.
They hopped into Quinn's car, and she soon had them zipping down toward the Galleria—well, creeping from light to light in traffic.
“We could have taken the T you know,” Daria said from beside her.
“Daria! You don't carry nice outfits on public transportation unless you want them ruined “ Even after all this time, Quinn was shocked at her sister's carelessness. “Besides,” she added after a moment's consideration, “we'd just be stuck in traffic on the bus.”
“Fine.” Daria's monotone was so flat that Quinn was sure her sister had crossed her arms and was staring out the window. She wasn't about to check, though because Boston-area traffic wasn't something you took your eyes off.
It took twice the usual time, but they eventually pulled into the garage under the Galleria. As they took the escalators to the second floor, where the Cashman's was, Daria's bad mood seemed to lift. “Sorry, Quinn.”
“So what happened?” Quinn said. “Mom get on your case again?”
“Not on my case,” Daria replied. “She just called for the fifth time in four days to go over plans, as if 'we're going to meet you in the morning before the ceremony starts' is that hard to understand.” Before Quinn could answer, Daria added, “And then Lambert calls. Apparently, he can read a contract, but not a calendar.”
Quinn rolled her eyes. She totally understood why Daria was annoyed, but sometimes she wished her big sister could learn to roll with things. “Well, that's all taken care of. You and I can relax now, for at least a little while.”
“How I am supposed to relax?” Daria snapped. “Not only are you taking me shopping, but we're shopping right next to where I work.” She gestured to her left at the big Books by the Ton marquee.
Quinn could only laugh as she led Daria past the window displays and into Cashman's.
* * *
Shopping with Quinn hadn't been nearly the nightmare Daria expected, and the outfits that Sandi had picked out were very nice. Daria was planning to to wear one to dinner that night. Currently, though, she was wearing sensible clothes—jeans and a warm green sweater—under her graduation gown.
The Raft blue of her gown was slowly deepening as the misty rain, a staple of Boston weather in May, made it noticeably damp. She was mad at herself for forgetting an umbrella—after four years here, she should have known better then to trust the weather forecast—but madder at Helen and Jake for making her wait in the rain.
Finally, she saw their two figures hurrying up the block, crammed under one umbrella. She hoped they didn't see the eyeroll as they reached her, but she was actually glad to see them.
“Hi, sweetie!” Helen wrapped her in a hug. “Sorry we're late, but someone was sure he could navigate in Boston.” Daria couldn't see her mother glare at her father, but she didn't have to.
“It's good to see you, Mom, Dad.” she said as she disengaged.
Jake's sheepish look was replaced by a big grin. “Hiya, kiddo! How's our rock star?”
“Happy to see you but still curious about why we're standing in the rain when I could have met you after the ceremony.”
Jake started to open his mouth, but Helen cut him off. “We just wanted to tell you how proud we are of you, sweetie.”
Daria's bullshit alarm, already primed by the strange meeting time, and all the unnecessary reminders, started shrilling in her mind. Since calling her parents liars to their faces didn't seem like the best way to have an enjoyable Graduation Day, she simply narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips. To her surprise and pleasure, the “spill it” expression worked as well on her parents as it did on Quinn and Jane.
“We're sorry, sweetie,” Helen said, while Jake just looked sheepish. “We just wanted to talk to you without anyone else around.”
“Yeah,” Jake chimed in. “We know you're gonna want to celebrate and you're busy with the band and everything—”
Here Helen cut him off again. “And we're proud that you're managing everything so well. Even with your job and the band and everything, you're graduating on time, magna cum laude.”
Daria still waited, wondering when they were going to get to the point.
“We just want to make sure Quinn has the same opportunities.”
“Quinn?” Daria finally spoke, venting her surprise.
* * *
Quinn herself was feeling a bit lost at the moment. She'd remembered her umbrella, at least, so the mist wasn't affecting her outfit, but her mother, father, and roommate were nowhere to be found. Jane didn't bother her so much. It was fifty-fifty the artist would show up anything but rehearsals and gigs anyway, and if she wasn't there for the ceremony, she would at least be there for dinner. Her parents were something else, though.
She looked at her cell phone. They were thirty minutes late, and given her dad's driving they could be anywhere from the Rhode Island border to bleeding in a ditch somewhere. Just when she was about to start dialing, the two empty seats next to her finally filled.
“Oh, there you are,” she said, hiding relief. Helen and Jake didn't need to know that she was worried, any more than they'd needed to know what she'd got up to in high school.
“Hi, lovie,” Helen said. Quinn idly wondered if Daria hated being called “sweetie” as much as she hated being called “lovie.”
“Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad.” She was grateful that Jake just gave her a smile. His “I want to know all about my baby daughter” routine could be exhausting—especially since he usually forgot everything she told him within a week.
“Where's Jane?” Helen asked.
Quinn shrugged. “She was sleeping when I left. I don't know if she'll make it to the ceremony. She'll be there for dinner, though. She's an artist and a drummer. She'll never miss a free meal.”
Just then, the loudspeaker announced the first speaker. Jake's new digital camera came out, and he began snapping pictures of everything. Quinn decided not to listen to her parents—whether Helen told Jake to cut it out or started pointing out new things for him to snap didn't matter. She was here to see her sister graduate, and that was it.
The ceremony itself was pretty boring—a bunch of men patting themselves on the back for being involved with college in between bursts of classical music played badly. Quinn felt her heart lift when the procession began, and she began to burst with pride when they reached the Ms. She knew how hard Daria had worked to keep everything on track at school, and work, and with the band.
And then Helen tapped her on the shoulder and said, “Just think, Quinn. Next year that will be you.”
Quinn's stomach dropped down to her shoes.
* * *
Daria took a sip from her wine glass, her eyes flicking between the faces around the table. The dinners had been cleared, but they were lingering over desert and drinks.
Jane was in an expansive mood, helped no doubt by the best of a bottle of red, regaling her bemused parents and an amused Aunt Amy with a tale of her artistic adventures. Sandi, who had surprised everyone by accepting the dinner invitation, sat quietly, a polite smile on her face. Quinn—well, Daria's eyes slid over Quinn, but didn't stop.
Noticing that Jane was winding down, Daria gave her amiga what she hoped was a friendly grimace. “Yes, thank you, Jane,” she said, “for that entertaining episode of Total Incoherence Theater. Now if we could maybe move on to something that makes more sense than Magnolia...”
Jane, grinning, slid from her seat a trifle unsteadily. “Don't go away,” she said with a wink. “After this refreshing break, I'll be back with an episode of 'My Favorite Bathtime Gargles.'”
Helen and Jake watched Jane make her way to the bathroom. Daria thought she heard Quinn mutter, “I'm sure you will,” while Sandi smiled faintly. Aunt Amy took advantage of the distraction to lean in to Daria.
“So how's my favorite rock star dealing with her adoring public?” She gestured with her head toward Helen and Jake. “What inspiring way did they find to ruin your big day?”
Pitching her voice low to match Amy's, Daria responded, “They didn't ruin it. They just...” she paused, “Helen and Jaked it.” She took a deep swig of her white wine. “I thought with finishing school and getting a manager, I'd get a little break from responsibility, be able to focus more, but they have other ideas.”
“I'm sorry, Daria,” Amy said, the corner of her mouth quirking, “but once you hit eighteen, the only way you escape responsibility is to die, go to jail, or get rich.”
“Some help you are,” Daria growled.
“So what is this burden you've been awarded from on parental high? No wait, let me guess.” Amy looked dead at Quinn, and after a moment, so did Daria.
* * *
Quinn would have liked someone to talk to after dinner limped to an uncomfortable end, but Sandi had headed out immediately and Jane.... Well, Jane was snoring in the other room, after getting through most of another bottle just during desert.
Dragging herself out the next morning, she headed up toward Raft, where she'd be having breakfast with Helen, Jake, and Daria—just the family, Mom said, in that way she always had, that sounded like a lawyer trying to be a person.
Quinn sighed as the bus pulled up to the corner where Daria's favorite breakfast place was. It was a hole-in-the-wall, and not the kind of place Quinn liked, but she wasn't the one graduating. Once there, she grabbed a seat at a four-top, since her parents and Daria weren't there.
With a sigh, she looked down at the table. Daria hadn't been exactly rude last night, but she'd gotten quieter as dinner went along and stopped looking at anyone. Aunt Amy kept needling Helen, which was normal, but had spent a lot of time staring at Quinn while she did, which wasn't. Something weird is going on, she thought, but before she could get her mind around it, the door swung open and Daria and their parents came in.
Breakfast wasn't bad, but it was quiet. Jake and Helen mostly took turns dropping hints that the girls should visit Lawndale over the summer, and Daria didn't say much. Usually, Quinn was happy to fill up the spaces in the conversation with chatter, but today she didn't feel like it. So she sat and played with her fruit salad, while the others ate.
“It's a shame we can't stay tonight to watch you play,” Jake said as a sulky waitress took the dishes away.
Quinn smiled weakly. “That's okay, Dad,” she said. “We know you have to get home.”
“It would be nice to give you moral support, though,” Helen looked thoughtful, while Daria looked horrified.
“Muh-om,” Quinn wasn't sure what was up with Daria, but she decided to play a little defense. “We've been playing there for over a year. It's no big deal anymore.”
“I guess.” Helen went back to sipping her coffee.
The waitress came back with the check, and Helen grabbed it. After a few more minutes, they all stood to go. Mom gave out hugs, Dad gave out smiles, and Daria just gave her a funny look, before grunting something that could have been, “See you later, sis.”
* * *
The gig on Saturday went well enough, Daria thought, especially since Helen and Jake stuck to their original plan and went home. She loved her parents, but they were exhausting at the best of times and the last thing Daria wanted was their aging-hippie feedback on her cynical millennial music. Not to mention what they'd said about Quinn.
Having Aunt Amy there would've been bad enough, she thought, but Amy's flight had been early, so she'd been at the airport before the rest of them had finished breakfast.
Sunday passed uneventfully. She had the day off, and the band wasn't practicing, so she spent most of the day noodling around with chord sequences on the guitar. Monday promised to be more of the same, at least until she had to work, but then the phone rang just before noon.
“Somerville morgue, you slice them, we ice them,” she said into the handset.
“How about, 'I book them, you play them,” Brian Lambert's voice on the other end held a touch of asperity.
“And a happy hello to you too, Brian. I suppose I should be grateful you left me alone for the whole weekend.”
“Depends if you want more gigs,” he said. “Playing once or twice a week can be really relaxing.”
“Point taken,” she deadpanned. “So what have you got?”
“Auditions. First one is at John Brown's”
“Right next to Avalon?” She tried to keep the pleased surprise out of her voice. “That's a good-sized place. Not as big as Avalon, but bigger than LL Wolf's and actually in Boston.”
“Gimme a sec and I'll fill you in on the details. You can talk to the other girls when you rehearse.”
“Or you could come to the gig on Thursday and tell us all then.”
“And then you could miss the audition. Up to you.”
“Fine,” Daria sighed. “Give me the details.” How come even with a manager, I still get stuck with the crap jobs?
* * *
The next few weeks seemed to disappear for Quinn. She wasn't all that busy, but other than work and playing, she honestly couldn't think of anything else she'd done. They hadn't gotten the gig at John Brown's—she wasn't sure whether they'd blown it or the owner only wanted hardcore bands—but three other places ended up wanting them. One of them, a smaller place in Brighton, didn't even ask them to audition, which Quinn took as a good sign.
Tonight they were playing Allies, a pretty big room right near the Fleet Center, and Quinn was really nervous for the first time in awhile. They'd never played a room this big, and Brian said it was important enough that he was gonna be there.
It didn't help that when they came out, the room was only about half full. She stepped up to the mike, and for just a second, her mind went totally blank, something that hadn't happened since their first few gigs. Daria stepped in for her, “We're GTS and we're here to rock your socks off!”
As Jane counted out the time, Quinn unfroze. The half-empty room bothered her, but the lyrics and her moves came back into her head. By the end of the first set, she was feeling good about the show. By the time they finished, this crowd was dancing and cheering as loud as any other.
Daria disappeared with Brian as they came off stage, leaving Quinn with Jane and Sandi. “Feels weird playing in such a big place with so few people,” Jane said.
“I guess,” Quinn said. “I mean the guy didn't seem upset or anything when he told us to go on, and there were more people for us than the band that played before us, so that's probably good. But,” she grimaced. “It's nicer to play when the place is full. You get more back from the audience that way. A, what is it? Feedbag loop?”
“Feedback, Quinn.” Jane gave her a half-smile a little like Daria's. “Feedback loop.”
Sandi broke in, “I know what you mean, but like, sometimes I feel like it's better to have some space, you know. Like, there's less riding on the crowd, so I can really focus on playing better instead of letting the music do the work.”
Jane laughed, “I like to let the music do the work. That way I don't have to.”
Quinn shrugged at Sandi. “Drummers.” Sandi returned a small smile, which Quinn took as a good sign. She still didn't entirely trust Sandi, but they were getting along better since the big blowup a few months ago. “Want a drink?” The other two nodded and they headed to the bar.
* * *
Daria, meanwhile, was not pleased. Meeting another bullet-headed club owner wasn't really on her list of things to do for the night, but Lambert had practically dragged her back to the office.
At least the guy didn't mess around. “I don't like booking the same band on the same night, but we've got the same slot open next week if you want it.”
She looked from the bullet-head to Lambert, whose dark features showed nothing. “Sure,” she finally said, annoyed that she had to be one to say. “I have to talk to the rest of the band, but I'm sure they'll be okay with it.”
Bullet-head nodded. “Have him,” he pointed at Lambert, “let me know.”
“Not bad,” the manager said, though his dark features were still creased in a frown. “You didn't play that well, but he wants you back.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Brian,” Daria said, a stab of anger filling her. “I really appreciate you taking the time to come down and shit-talk us right after we get off stage.”
“Hey,” he held up his hands in warding. “I just line up the gigs. You have to play 'em. Besides,” he added. “You can't have been that bad. They want you back.”
Daria grunted as they came back into the main room. Looking around, she found Quinn, Jane, and Sandi in a row at the bar. She slid up next to her amiga. “Not on the prowl tonight?”
“Nah,” Jane said. “This is the kind of place people get roofied in. Preppy assholes think they can get away with anything.” Shifting, but keeping her hand on her drink, she turned to look at Daria. “So what's up?”
Quinn, apparently noticing the commotion to her left, also turned. “Yeah. What's up?” Sandi still focused on her drink.
“They want us back next week,” Daria said, and then ordered a beer for herself. “It's not a weekly gig or anything. The guy said he doesn't like having regulars, but they have a slot that needs filling.”
“Any reason not to do it?” Jane asked.
“None that I can see,” Daria said. She waited for either Quinn or Sandi to say something, and was surprised when it was Sandi and not Quinn who did.
“So why is it you telling us, and not Lambert?” She took a sip from her glass. “I mean, it doesn't bother me or anything, but he's, like, supposed to be doing the manager things.”
“That is a very good question, Sandi.” Daria said as the bartender put the beer in front of her. “And I'm wondering about the answer myself.”
* * *
As the next Tuesday rolled around, Quinn found herself wondering about it too. They didn't see Lambert at all that week—not on Thursday at LL Wolf's, not on Saturday at October's and not at the one-off they did on Sunday night that he told them about via email the day after the first gig at Allies.
The place had been small, but the crowd had been enthusiastic. If only we knew why he wanted us to play there.
And now it was Tuesday again and they were back at Allies. The load-up had gone smoothly—not that Quinn expected anything else after so much practice. This week, they got to Allies in time to catch the end of the last band. Quinn could hear them trying for something melodic—trying and mostly missing. More people were leaving the floor than coming out.
She turned to her sister. “What do you think?”
Daria grimaced. “They sound like someone took the worst aspects of grunge and hair metal and combined them into something even more awful.”
“So like Mystik Spiral,” Jane quipped, from Daria's other side.
“Mystik Spiral couldn't sound this bad on their worst day,” Daria retorted.
Quinn laughed as Jane waved a mocking finger at Daria. “Ah, ah. You never saw them on their worst day. I did. “She smiled sourly. “I played with them on some of their worst days, when Max was so mad at Nick he wouldn't look at any of them.”
Sandi, who had disappeared to the ladies room, joined them “What's so funny?” she started to ask, and then winced as the singer's voice broke. “Besides that,” she said waving an arm at the band.
“That's pretty much it,” Quinn said. “Well, that and Jane making fun of her brother's band.” Of course, her brother's band was out on tour right now playing places bigger than this across the country. She wondered how soon they'd be doing that themselves, and if she was ready for it..
* * *
By the time the Girls had gotten set up and ready, Daria had put their bad openers out of her mind. The fact that the crowd had filled out helped. The place looked to Daria to be closer to two-thirds full than half, which was an improvement. Quinn stepped up to the plate this time, and they were off.
Whether because of the larger crowd or some other reason, Daria could feel the energy surging through the music in a way it hadn't a week ago. Originals gave way to covers gave way to originals, and the crowd seemed to lap it up, through both sets.
Hearing her sister say, “And Daria Morgan waiting lead guitar,” and even worse, having to say, “And sister Quinn Morgan leading the show,” was still weird. Daria expected that she'd eventually get used to it, but for now she still missed her real name.
As they got off the stage, the crowd, which had gotten bigger while they played, was still buzzing nicely. They broke down in record time and headed to the bar to have a drink, Quinn burbling excitedly the entire time.
Daria was just about to ask Jane how she felt about the gig when a shadow fell over her. “Where's your manager?” said the owner in the same oil-glurping-from-a-drum voice as last week.
“Uh, not here,” she said. “Is there something you need?”
“Just wanted to pay you and let you know it went good tonight.” He handed her a wad of bills. “I got no openings for awhile, but I'll let you guys know when I do.”
She thumbed through the bills as he walked off. “Not bad,” she said, quietly. “There's eight hundred here. Do you each want your shares tonight, or should we go through Brian?
“Fuck 'im,” Jane said. “I'll take my money, thank you.”
“Uh, maybe we should wait until we're back in the van,” Quinn said. “I don't think flashing money around is such a good idea.”
“Like, where is he anyway,” Sandi looked around. “It's good that he's getting us gigs, but if he's not going to show up, why should we even pay him?”
Daria quirked a frown, “Well, you said it. He is getting us gigs.” She slid the bills in her front pocket, as subtly as she could, in case anyone with ill intent was curious. “And we have a contract. Our mom's not going to be able to bail us out if we try to fuck him over.”
Sandi grunted what could have been agreement and they all went back to their drinks, but Daria's positive vibes were replaced with irritation. When she finally got home, it took her until two to fall asleep.
* * *
Quinn hadn't been nearly as bothered. Two hundred bucks wasn't much, but it was the most she'd gotten after a gig so far, and she felt a warm glow when Daria put the money in her hand while Jane pulled the van out of the parking lot. Sure, Brian had flaked, but she didn't really like dealing with him anyway.
Her good mood carried through her Wednesday shift at the restaurant, where she had a very good day. She was home before midnight with almost twice her usual take. She was still wide awake, so she grabbed a drink from the fridge, and checked her email.
“Ah, crap,” she whispered to herself. There was a ton of spam, like always, but there was also something from NESD's registration office, reminding her that she hadn't registered for her fall semester classes, and she was in danger of losing her spots.
“I don't need this right now,” she whined to no one, or so she she thought.
The door closed behind her and Jane's voice said, “Don't need what? A mani-pedi?
Quinn turned around and glared. “My roommate making freakin' jokes when I'm upset is one thing.”
Jane put the bag she was holding on the kitchen table, and took a peek over Quinn's shoulder. “School shit, huh?”
Quinn nodded. “Mom made a point of telling me at Daria's graduation how much she was looking forward to mine. But we've been so busy all summer with the band that I haven't even thought about the fall. I mean, I know the classes I need to graduate, but my schedule will be all fucked up and I don't what's gonna happen with the band. It feels like we're on the edge of something, you know?”
“I'm not sure you need to sweat it, Quinn,” Jane fished some things out of the bag and put them in the fridge and then grabbed a coke. It's not like we've even played outside of Boston yet. And if you have to drop some shifts to keep on schedule, you can always hit up the Bank of Helen and Jake.” Quinn could hear a little bitterness there, but she let it pass.
“Do you really think we'll still be playing just in Boston by the fall? It's only the end of June and Brian's already got us running across town and back every other day.”
“I'm not sure I trust 'Brian,' farther than I can throw him.” Jane grimaced, “but even if he's not lying, so what? You can always just drop the classes.”
“And cost the Bank of Helen and Jake,” she could feel her voice getting sharper, like Daria's, “over ten thousand dollars? They wouldn't mind helping me with rent, but that's like half of what Dad makes in a slow year. Plus,” she caught the other girl's eye and held it, “I'm pretty sure they roped Daria into watching over me. Do you really think my dear sister is going to happily let me blow off school in the middle of the semester? Especially if Mom and Dad are on her case about me?”
“Yeah,” Jane said. “Sounds like you do have a problem.
“What about you? Does Daria know you're not going back either?”
“There's no Helen and Jake to make me finish. Or to make Daria make me finish. Vince and Amanda would probably be happy to know I'm dropping out.” Jane grimaced. “If they even remember they have a daughter named Jane.”
* * *
Daria was off on Thursday for once and was looking forward to taking it easy before the usual LL Wolf's gig. Then the phone rang, waking her up from a pleasant doze. It took her a minute to figure out that a headhunter was calling about a great job opportunity that absolutely wasn't part of a multilevel marketing scam.
“Why are you bothering me?” Daria grumbled. “I haven't even sent out any resumes. Or had any coffee.”
“The early bird gets the worm, Miss Morgandopper.” Daria wasn't sure if the mispronunciation of her name bothered her more or the woman's relentlessly cheerful tone.
“But the second mouse gets the cheese.” Daria said and promptly hung up. Her attempts to get back to sleep were thwarted by a second call about half-an-hour later. Daria didn't even bother looking at the caller ID. She just growled, “Who the hell is this?”
“Is that any way to talk to the man who is going to make you a star?” Brian's rich voice sounded amused.
“Why are you calling me before 10 AM? You're managing a rock and roll band. You shouldn't assume I'm awake before four in the afternoon.” Phone under her ear, Daria dragged herself to the kitchenette and began futzing with the coffeemaker.
“Who says I slept last night?”
“Just tell me why you called, and leave your private life out of it.”
“I wanted your opinion on something. Might mean the next step for you, and I thought you might want to run it by the other three.”
Excitement seemed to be creeping into his voice, but an annoyed Daria ignored it. “You know, you could run it by all four of us. Then you could stop treating me like official band liaison.”
Daria could almost hear him ignoring that. “There's a place in Providence, a decent sized spot, that's looking for a fill-in for the next couple of Saturdays, and the guy who owns it is also partners in a club in New York City.”
“Well, it sounds like a pretty good opportunity,” Daria said, “but we're still at October's on Saturdays.”
“Gonna tell the other three you'd rather play to a hundred people again instead of breaking into New York?” The challenge hung in the air.
It's not that easy, Daria wanted to scream, but instead she kept her cool. “I'll talk to Quinn, Jane, and Sandi tonight.” A chuckle and click were her only answer.
The capper came around noon, though. She'd had her coffee and was considering taking a walk—it was one of those weird June days where the wind and temperature scream “cold and rainy” but the clouds forget to show up—when the phone rang again. Oh God, Daria thought as her mother's voice greeted her at the other end of the line.
“Hi, Mom,” she said, not quite able to keep the sigh out of her voice.
“Is everything okay, sweetie?” Helen's voice had that saccharine lilt that meant she wanted something.
“Everything is fine, Mom. Just a busy day. Things to do, and a gig tonight. You know.” She quirked a half-smile, even though her mother's couldn't see. “I'm surprised you had the time to call in the middle of the day.”
“I took a lunch today,” Helen said. Before Daria could get in a wisecrack, she added, “I wanted to talk to you. About Quinn.”
Daria's insides tightened, but she tried to keep it out of her voice. “You could always try, I don't know, talking to Quinn.”
“Your sister has gotten a lot better at hiding things. She still talks just as much, but now she doesn't say anything if she doesn't want to.” Daria could hear the amusement and irritation warring in Helen's voice. “If I didn't know better, I'd say you had something to do with that.”
“Sorry, Mom. I can only give you name, rank, and Johnny B. Goode.”
Helen paused at that, before speaking a different tone, a pleading one. “Well, please make sure your sister has registered for her classes. It's getting late, and I don't want her missing out on the ones she needs.”
Daria tried to keep calm, though on the inside she was raging. Why are you doing this to me?!. Finally she said, “Do you really think Quinn is gong to listen to me?”
“She trusts you,” Helen said simply. They talked for a little longer, but the only other thing Daria took away from the conversation was that her relaxing day was now completely shot to hell.
* * *
Quinn could feel the tension when the Girls stepped on the stage at LL Wolf's that night. Daria hadn't said word one to her and not much more to Jane and Sandi. And she was already tense about the school thing.
She didn't like singing when she was tense. It was harder for the music to flow through her, and she felt like her voice lost some of its expressiveness. For whatever reason, it didn't seem to affect her tonight, though. The Girls sounded as good as ever.
They left the stage to the usual cheers, but before they could even start breaking down, Daria disappeared. “Dunno,” Jane said when Quinn asked where her sister was.
“Is Lambert here?” Sandi asked. “He might have wanted to like talk to Daria about gigs.”
“I didn't see him,” Quinn said. “And if he is here, it's a little weird that he just wants to talk to Daria. I mean, we're all in this together.”
Jane shot her a weird look. “Do you really want to talk to him that badly? Let Daria deal with the oily bastard. She's better at that shit than we are anyway.”
“You didn't think so a couple of months ago,” Quinn felt herself getting annoyed. “You were the one who wanted a manager so badly.”
“To take the pressure off, Quinn, not to go out for coffee with.” Jane was starting to sound annoyed too.
Before Quinn could answer, though, Sandi cut in. “I don't think, like, Daria wants to deal with being the manager's pet any more than the rest of us would.”
How would Sandi know? Quinn thought, but just then Daria came back. “I talked to Lambert this morning and Benz just now,” she said, not bothering with pleasantries. “Benz is ready to give us Saturday nights here for at least a few weeks, but he's not sure when we would start.” Before anyone could interrupt, she added, “Lambert wants us to do a couple of Saturdays at a place in Providence. He says the guy who owns the place also owns a place in New York City. What do you guys think?”
Jane and Sandi in their different ways both sounded excited, but Quinn had some questions—not that she had a good idea how to ask them. Daria wasn't going to let her dither, so she needed to ask the right question, or at least not the wrong one. “What about October's?” she finally asked, figuring it was a safe way to start.
“Come on,” Jane said, and waved a hand. “They always expected us to move on.”
“Well, how big is this place in Providence? Or the one in New York? Will we be playing in front of fifty people?” She looked right at her sister. “I mean, what are the downsides?”
Daria met her eyes with an unsettling intensity. “I don't know, Quinn. You tell me.” Quinn felt her stomach drop to her toes.
* * *
Quinn hadn't answered the question, Daria thought later on. She'd gotten flustered, but rather than the usual flood, she'd just sputtered a little and gone back to the stage to start breaking things down. Jane burbled excitedly, sounding more like Quinn than Quinn usually did, and Sandi was still reserved, but Daria thought she could see signs of excitement. Maybe she was getting better at reading Sandi.
They'd eventually established that they wanted to do the gigs in Providence, and Benz didn't know when Saturdays were opening up yet, so there wouldn't be a problem. At least not with Wolf's, anyway.
She was back on the phone with Brian by noon the next day. After the initial pleasantries, which were very short, she got right into it. “We'll do it.” When he didn't respond, she added, “the gigs in Providence, I mean.”
“I figured,” he said. “I'll come down too. At least for the first one. The two of us can talk to the guy who owns the club before the show.”
Daria frowned, but let this pass, instead saying, “So this'll be our last show at October's.”
“Yeah,” Brian said. “How are gonna break it to him?”
“I'm not,” Daria said, ice touching her voice. “The band hired a manager to do shit like that.” He started to protest, but she ran over him. “You wanted the job, Lambert. That mean's you've gotta do all of it, not just the parts that make you feel smart.”
“Fine,” he said, sounding nettled. “I'll call him tomorrow.”
“Today.”
She heard his heavy sigh. “You can be a stone bitch when you want to, Daria. I'll call this afternoon.”
“Pleasure doing business with you, Brian,” she said. Feeling satisfied for the moment, she headed off to work.
The next morning involved asking Quinn to come by early before the load out and telling Jane and Sandi not to come by before the load out. When the bell rang promptly at 5, she sighed. Thank you Helen and Jake, for dumping this shit in my lap again.
Daria wasn't sure if she should be comforted or sad that Quinn looked as uncomfortable as she felt. Her “Can I get you anything?” sounded stilted to her own ears.
“Uh, no.” Quinn said. “No thanks. Look, Daria, if this is about what I think it's about—“ She trailed off, standing there awkwardly, as if they were still in high school and she'd come to ask her “cousin” for a favor.
“Probably,” Daria said, motioning her to sit. Quinn finally took a spot on the edge of the sofa, and Daria took the chair opposite. “Mom wants me to remind to you to register for the fall semester.”
“I figured,” Quinn and sighed. “I don't suppose, 'Mind your own business' would work as an answer?”
“That wouldn't even work on Dad, Quinn.” Daria said. “Though I have to congratulate you on stonewalling Mom. She always used to be able to make you spill anything if she was around long enough to get you talking.”
Quinn tossed her hair—unconsciously Daria thought. “I've learned a few things in college, Daria. Besides that I can't play bass and sing, I mean.”
“So why are you so reluctant to learn more? It's only one more year.”
“Daria, we're gonna be playing in Providence next week, and Brian wants to get us into New York. Do you really think I'm going have time for school in the fall?”
“Is that something you want to gamble on? I'm not quitting my job. It's summer, so more stuff is going on. Once things settle down, we'll probably be back to two or three days a week.” Daria was surprised at her sudden discomfort at the idea of pinning all her hopes on the band. Wasn't that the goal? If Quinn noticed her discomfort, she didn't say anything. Before Daria could pick up the threads, the doorbell rang.
“Dammit,” she swore, rose, and stomped toward the door. “Someone's always expecting me to tell someone else what to do, but no one actually listens to me,” she muttered as she went down the stairs.
* * *
Quinn didn't hear what Daria said, but she was happy to have her sister's eyes off her and even happier to see Jane in the doorway. She had no idea if the artist, chatting away at a less-than-thrilled Daria, was here to help, but she was happy for the distraction no matter why.
Sandi arrived promptly and they got themselves loaded up without incident. Quinn left a little weird walking in the back door of October's, because it was probably for the last time.
It got even weirder when Mike, the owner, met them right away. A big, red-faced Irishman, Mike wasn't the sort of guy who handed out compliments, or even smiles, but that's what he was doing now. “I want to thank you girls,” he said, and his smile seemed a little sad. “You've been great, and I've been really lucky to have you for as long as I did. Send 'em home happy one last time, eh?”
“We'll do our best,” Daria said, speaking for all of them, Quinn thought. She says she doesn't want to be in charge, but she's always the one who is.
Up on stage at least, she leaned into to the mike in front of her. “Hi, we're GTS, and we've got an announcement. This is our last Saturday here at October's. We want to thank you all for being such great audiences!” She gave them a second, before adding, “And now we're gonna rock your socks off! One, two, three, four...”
They did almost all originals that night, starting with “Charmed Circle,” and ending the first set with “Fuck of and Die.” Quinn was curious about why Sandi's song, “My Eyes,” opened the second set, especially since it was Daria who insisted, but it seemed to go over well enough.
They finished with “Roadrunner,” just like they'd started over a year ago. Quinn had never really warmed to the song, but she totally got why they played it. Because Daria sang lead, she did the intros tonight, except for her own. “And Big Sister Daria Morgan wailing lead guitar,” Quinn shouted after Daria had announced her.
“Right! Bye, bye!” Daria said, as Jane thrashed the drums some more, and then it was over. As the girls hopped own from the stage, Quinn noticed that Daria headed right for the bar. She was tempted herself for a minute, but she figured if she still wanted a drink when she got home, there was plenty in the fridge at home.
Turning, she found Sandi standing next to her. “Do you wanna get started breaking down?” the other girl asked. “Jane went off to find some guy she had her eye on, and Daria looks busy too.”
“Uh, sure,” Quinn said. “No reason to wait. But are you in a hurry or something?”
“No. It's just that I've, like, had to run off before or had to show up late, and you guys have picked up the slack. I don't mind taking my turn every so often. Besides,” she added with a little of that smug Sandi smile, “it's easier here than in the bigger places.”
Oddly, Quinn was reassured. A totally selfless Sandi didn't fit her worldview. She laughed a little. “Sure. Let's do the easy bit.”
* * *
The week leading up to their first gig outside of the Boston area went by in a blur for Daria. The only real impression she had was an almost constant sense of irritation at Quinn.
It started when the redhead dragged her away from her fourth beer at October's. She said something about them being ready to go and drinking way too fast, but Daria wasn't in the mood to hear it. Still she let herself be led away, but not before draining the bottle in front of her.
Since they had no gigs until Thursday, Daria made a point of trying to pin down Quinn on school, but there was always some excuse. If Quinn wasn't working, she was “off taking care of things.” Since Daria didn't have to be at work until 3 on Wednesday, she even went down to Quinn and Jane's apartment to wait for her errant sister, but neither of the roommates was home. After an hour, she gave it up as a bad job, and went home to stew.
Thursday went the same. Quinn showed up with Jane in tow, and between the two of them, Daria couldn't get a word in edgewise. When Sandi showed up to get loaded up, Daria greeted her with a sardonic, “Well, come on in, Dot. Yakko and Wakko are already here shooting their mouths off.”
Sandi smiled faintly. “Yakko and Wakko, huh? Like, which one is which?”
“Who the hell can tell?” Daria said, rolling her eyes. Jane and Quinn were still on the couch, but rose as soon as Sandi came into the living room. In contrast to earlier, neither of them said a word as the four of them filed down the back stairs. Daria snuck a look back at Sandi to see if she was reacting to the silence, but the other girl's expression was as placid as ever.
The gig itself was fine, and Daria had two drinks, but not three, before joining the others to break down. Jane was coiling a lead and Sandi packing up a couple of mike stands, but Quinn was nowhere to be found. Daria was more than a little surprised, as Quinn was usually the most dependable right after a gig.
“Where's Quinn?” she asked as she grabbed a couple of amps to bring to the van.
Jane gave her a casual “dunno” kind of shrug, and Sandi said, “She just said she had to run, and didn't tell us where.”
She's really dodging me hard, Daria thought as she loaded the amps. Back inside, she added. “That's weird. Quinn doesn't usually like to ride the T herself this late.”
Jane barked a laugh. “Quinn's a big girl, Daria. I think she can manage to get herself home without an armed escort.”
Daria felt her eyes narrow. “I get that, Jane, but it's still a bit out of character.” She spared a glance for Sandi, who watched with an eyebrow raised, but she was more intent on Jane, who didn't bother responding. Finally, she blew out a sigh. “Whatever. Let's just get finished up and go. We don't need to worry about Quinn tonight. As if a spell had been broken, they got back to work.
Daria didn't press either of the others about Quinn, or anything else. But I will have her trapped in the van for over an hour on Saturday and I will pin her down.
* * *
Saturday found Quinn as tight as a guitar string. Not only was it their first out of town gig, but she knew Daria was going to grill her about school, and there wasn't much she could do about it.
Switching so she could do Saturday lunch had seemed like a good idea, but her day was just fuckup after fuckup, so she was grateful to get out without getting ripped a new one by the shift manager.
Jane, who was already at the apartment when she got back, could only take about half-an-hour of Quinn's fretting. “Christ, Quinn. Relax. It's just another gig.”
“It's not just another gig, Jane!” She jumped up from the couch, where she'd been trying and failing to sit still, and started to pace. “It's our first out-of-town gig, our key to getting into New York, and my fucking sister is making me want to crawl into the ground and pull it over my head.”
“Well, you know Daria,” Jane grimaced slightly. “If there's a way she can make things harder on herself, and the rest of us, she will.”
If that had been meant to calm Quinn, it did the opposite. “Well, she should try to fucking know me,” she gave the side of the coach a savage kick. “She's got me ready to jump out of my own skin, and she should know I don't sing well when I'm all tensed up. Why did she have to pick now of all times to get a bug up her ass about school? Even if the band crashes and burns, I don't need the degree to make something of myself in the fashion world. She's just—“ Words failed her.
“Feel better?”
“Not, really, no.” Quinn sighed and slumped back on the coach. “I could deal with Daria being a pain in the ass or I could deal with the pressure of the gig, but both is too much.”
“You've gotta tell her that, then. She's not totally unreasonable, and she's not into self-sabotage. When she actually wants to do something, she does it. Anyway,” Jane turned toward the door, “it's time to go.”
“But maybe she just wants me to do what she says,” Quinn whispered to herself as she followed Jane out the door.
By the time they were on the road, she was convinced she was right. Daria was fine as they loaded up the van, and Quinn wasn't too worried when Daria told Jane, “I'll drive back if you drive down,” but she was unpleasantly surprised when Sandi slid into the front passenger seat.
“Why aren't you sitting up in front with Jane?” Quinn asked, her nervousness now strangely like terror.
“Can't a girl hang out with her sister?”
Daria, Quinn thought, did not do 'artless innocence' well. But she did keep her mouth shut, or at least off the topic of school as they crawled down 93. Once they hit 95 south of Boston, though, it was a different story. Her sister fixed her with a steely glare. “So tell me what's going on with college, Quinn? It's July and you still haven't registered for the fall.”
“I've got time,” Quinn said, and hated the whine she heard in her voice.
“At least three or four hours, anyway.” The sarcasm in Daria's voice was strong enough that even someone who didn't know her well could hear it.
“Can't we just concentrate on the gig? I don't think this is the time to talk about it.” She turned her head to stare out the window, hoping against hope to end the conversation.
No such luck. “We wouldn't have to talk about it now if you hadn't hidden from me all week. You even roped Jane in to run interference.” Daria's voice sounded even harder. “Why is this such a problem for you?”
“Because I don't want to do it, okay?” Quinn turned and matched her sister's glare, the pleading whine gone from her voice. “I don't want to stop the band, so I can prance around freakin' school for another year just to make Mom and Dad happy.”
“We're not going to stop the band.” Daria sounded a little calmer, but only a little. “There's no reason we can't keep moving forward while you finish. Jane, too,” she added.
“Daria, we're driving over an hour for a gig tonight, and we're hoping to be doing gigs even further out, soon. When am I gonna have time to go to class if we have to drive all night to get back from a show, or even worse, stay in another city?”
“Getting a little ahead of ourselves, aren't we?” The corners of Daria's mouth turned down.
“Not really. You've been talking about momentum for two years, now. We finally have some, Let's not waste it.”
“Mom and Dad are gonna be pissed at both of us if you don't go back to school.”
“It's not your job to make sure I make Mom and Dad happy, Daria.”
“Look, Quinn, I know—“
“No,” Jane broke in from the driver's seat. “You don't know! You don't have to choose between college and the band because you set it up so that you'd finish!”
“What about you?” Daria said. “You have like one semester left. Why would you want to throw it away?”
Jane laughed harshly. “Daria, I dropped out right before your graduation. You'd know that if you took a minute to look around instead of making sure things work out for yourself.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Daria snapped. Quinn was pleased to see shock on her sister's face.
“She's right, Daria.” This from Sandi in the passenger seat. “We've been on your schedule since I joined the band. And like, that's fine.” Her deep voice was calm and even. “Everything worked out. You got to graduate, and we're where we need to be. But everyone else had to choose.”
“I didn't make anyone choose anything!”
“Of course not,” Sandi said. “But we all had to choose anyway. Jane and I already chose. Quinn is choosing now.”
“And if she chooses wrong?” Daria's voice sounded all barbed and prickly, and Quinn could see her sister stiffen in her seat, never a good sign.
Still, it was time for her to pick a side. “It's my choice to make,” she said, meeting her sister's eyes, when had thinned to slits, a sure sign that Daria was about to explode. She said it anyway, though. “I'm not going back in the fall.”
* * *
Daria could feel the rage building in her. How dare she! How dare they all! Didn't they understand?! If Quinn didn't go back in the fall she'd be letting down... Letting down what? Helen and Jake? My own self-image? Some random ideal I built up in my head so long ago that I don't remember why or even what I was thinking? Instead of exploding, she pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“You're right,” she said quietly, as tension and rage ran out of her. “It's not my job. Sometimes I forget that.”
“Does that mean you're going to stop bugging me about school?” Daria could see the hope and relief in her sister's face.
“Yes, Quinn,” she said, deadpan again, but no longer barbed. “I'm going to bug you about your singing instead.”
“Bitch,” Quinn said, and laughed as Daria quirked a Mona Lisa smile. She suddenly felt the weight of expectations—her professors', Helen and Jake's, her own—lifting from her.
“I'm sorry if I've been a pain in the ass lately. It's just that sometimes it feels like if I don't take things on to myself, people just dump them on me anyway. Not so much you guys, but at work, Mom and Dad, even that asshole Lambert, always seem to want to push me out front.”
“Well, you've got to admit, you're usually good at it.” The redhead took on a thoughtful expression. “It's kind of funny. Who would've thought back in high school when you used to rearrange your schedule to have more time for doing nothing, that you'd end up so driven. I mean, let's face it. We wouldn't be where we are without you.”
“Yeah,” Sandi added. “It's not like we mind when you take charge. It's just that sometimes you take too much charge and get overwhelmed. And then you get bitchy and it's hard on all of us.”
A stab of anger ran through her, but she recognized the truth of Sandi's statement, so she let it go. “That's fair. I'll try to keep my temper under control and ask for more help. Of course,” she added, “that means then when I ask for help or I want to know something, you have to talk to me and not hide,” she turned on her sister again, “Quinn.”
Quinn looked ashamed, and Jane laughed.
“Also, Jane, wile we're on the topic of listening to me, keep your eyes on the road, please. We're straddling two lanes right now.”
“Fine, fine. I'm just the drummer. I do what I'm told.” Daria could see Jane sticking her tongue out in the rear view mirror, but the van did straighten out.
As they rolled down 95, Daria felt a bloom of optimism.
* * *
According to Brian, at least, the show went well. The guy who owned the place—thinner and better dressed than the usual run of sleazes, but still with the vibe of someone who would sell their mother for a few extra points—wasn't showing anything, but he did come across with their money right away.
Still, Daria and Quinn both had reason to feel good as they headed back to Boston. They were coming back next week, and they'd managed to clear the air a bit. Quinn had grabbed shotgun after the loaded up, and Sandi and Jane were both asleep by the time they hit the Massachusetts border.
The sisters chatted quietly for awhile before they hit on the topic of school again. “I honestly had no idea Jane was dropping out,” Daria said.
“You know Jane. She likes to be mysterious. I didn't know what she was doing for money for like the first year we lived together.”
“Yeah, I'm glad she's just tending bar in the Combat Zone and not stripping.”
Quinn shuddered. She enjoyed being the focus of an audience, and she'd had a couple of relationships that had turned physical, but the idea of being naked in front of strange men still gave her the creeps. “How about we change the subject?”
“Good idea,” said Daria, who had made herself uncomfortable, too. She worried about Jane working in the kind of dive bars she did, but Jane wasn't going to talk to her about it, any more than she'd apparently talked to her about school. “Mom and Dad aren't going to like you dropping out.”
“There are other topics. Daria.”
“Relax, Quinn. I'm on your side, now, but we have to have a strategy.”
“Well, I thought about it,” Quinn said. “They've been after us to visit them all summer. Hopefully, if we spend a week there, they'll be happy enough to not hit the roof when I explain, especially when I tell them I'm saving them money this year.”
“You mean. 'when we explain', right?” Daria kept her eyes on the road, but both of them could tell she was smiling.
“Sure,” Quinn said, as warmth filled her. “When we explain together.”