Chapter 23
When I returned to LA I only had days before we were set to hit the road with a prep list a mile long. There were fittings, photos shoots, and rehearsals. Meetings with my lawyer, agent, and new manager, Rochelle Givens. Rochelle was highly recommended, and I felt confident she’d be able to take my career sans Whiskey Wild to the next level. Moniece was a godsend; she was able to locate a realtor to begin the process of listing the condo. At the end of this tour, I wanted to be done with LA and this chaotic chapter of my life.
On top of all that, before the first show, our respective managers recommended a sit-down conversation with a professional therapist. Darla was still being managed by Chap; it made sense he would push for this. Neither of them believed I had the balls to truly walk away. I wanted to decline, but Rochelle was also pro therapy, suggesting hashing out our differences could help to make the touring experience less stressful.
In a home tucked away in Highland Park, we met with Dr. Alvin Sims, but he preferred to be called Dr. Al. I was only here because the label expressed concerns about our deteriorating relationship and the potential effect it could have on the brand. But I was a professional, I could hate your guts and still put on a show.
“So, what brings you two in today?” Dr. Al asked. Neither Darla nor I ventured to answer. We hadn’t spoken to one another in weeks, and no one wanted to be the first to break the stalemate. “Okay, let me try this again. Francesca why are you here?”
“I’m here so I don’t get fired, sued, or blackballed.”
“Darla same question.”
“Unlike Fancy, I genuinely want to work through our problems.”
“She can say that because she wasn’t the one who was betrayed.”
“Grow up, Fancy.”
“Shut up, Darla.”
Dr. Al raised a hand signaling for silence. “So, there is clearly acrimony. What caused you two to end up in this place?”
“Do you want to tell him? Or are you going to continue to play the victim?”
“Fancy and her boyfriend broke up and now he and I are dating.”
Dr. Al looked at me.
“What?”
“Do you have any thoughts on what Darla said?”
“Yeah, she’s a liar. This is about cheating. She smiled in my face all the while plotting behind my back.”
“Are you saying Darla cheated on you?”
“Pretty much, she crept around with my boyfriend at the time and never told me. I had to find out from someone else.”
“It all happened really fast. We were going to tell you.”
“It was months.”
“You’re just mad because Chap chose me.”
“If that’s what you really think maybe we were never truly friends. It’s not about Chap, it’s about you. Chap’s a man, they’re a dime a dozen. But you were supposed to be my best friend, ride or die, from the cradle to the casket.”
“I still am. It’s just complicated.”
“No it’s not, it’s selfish. I would never have done that to you.” I couldn’t stand to look at her, instead focusing my attention on the massive chandelier overhead. The entire house, at least the parts I’d seen, were beautiful. I guess listening to people vent was big business. Everything in Los Angeles was more expensive, even mental health care. I’m sure I’d receive a hefty bill after this session. And for what, so I could sit next to Darla while she gaslit me.
“I just got tired of being in your shadow.”
Her word brought me back to the present and lit me up like a match. “You were never in my shadow. You were right beside me. Every opportunity I garnered was also given to you. I’m tired of people feeling less than and blaming it on me. Because all I ever did was treat you like a sister.”
Dr. Al scooched closer in his armchair. “This is good. Communication is good. Darla why do you think you gravitated toward Chap?”
I didn’t give her a chance to respond. “Who cares? Who fucking cares Dr. Al. Because at this point, I just want to finish this tour and be done.”
“You and Darla share a deep history. It would be nice to walk away with closure.”
“That’s the thing, I don’t need closure. Actions speak louder than words. And Darla’s actions told me everything I needed to know. I’m good off of her and I’m good off of Whiskey Wild.”
“This tour is going to be difficult if we’re at one another’s throats,” Darla shot back.
Fuck her comfort. She needed to be walking on eggshells anytime she approached me. “You’re a good actress. Just fake it like you did with me all those months.”
Dr. Al leaned closer. By the end of this meeting, he’d be sitting in my lap. “Fancy, are you saying you don’t care about mending your relationship?”
“We just have to sing together. Work the crowd, play our songs, and sing.”
I wasn’t ready to forgive. Shit, Darla wasn’t even remorseful. It was clear I was never a consideration. Darla made choices and now I was making mine. Some people would suggest I was being petty to break up Whiskey Wild over a man. But I can’t stress enough that Darla was my best friend, and she hurt me to my core. I thought we’d be friends forever, but forever didn’t last as long as I expected. I’m not saying never, but right now it was a hell no for me.
Twisting in her chair, for the first time this afternoon Darla’s eyes met mine. “I don’t want you to hate me, Fancy.”
“Hate is a strong word. I just have an aversion to all things Darla. And the fact that you can’t acknowledge you hurt me … hurts me. So, if it’s all the same, let’s just tell the label we’re in a better place and looking forward to the start of the tour.”
I wasn’t interested in being the bigger person, letting water pass under the bridge. I was in my petty era. And Darla wouldn’t get a smile, a head nod, or a handshake from me that wasn’t performative. I was here for the fans, the money, and to say a final farewell to Whiskey Wild.
The US leg of the Girls Behaving Badly Tour kicked off on the East Coast in Boston. Everything was bigger than our last US tour two years ago. We had a solid catalog of songs and a dedicated fan base. For the next three months Darla and I would be crossing the country to perform to sold-out crowds. I could still remember when we were the opening act. Playing in half empty arenas because people were only interested in the main event.
Despite the lack of a crowd, we would put on a show. Dancing and singing our hearts out. Soon the word got out that you didn’t want to be late because if you did, you’d miss out on a great time. To come from that to fans chanting our name and singing along to all the words was hard to wrap my head around.
Unlike past tours, Darla and I were on separate buses and would look at anything but each other when we were in the same room. During the radio station visits and promo runs, we were all smiles, but once we were back in the SUV, we both pulled out our phones and pretended like the other didn’t exist until the next stop. It was tense but when we hit the stage, it was like all the resentment was paused and we just rocked out.
Of course, all I could think about was Edison. It was difficult leaving him and being away for three months sounded like torture. It’s funny how a month ago Edison was a memory I chose not to linger on because of all the regret. And now I was staying up late talking to him on the phone and exchanging text messages. Any time my cell dinged or vibrated, I hoped it was him.
Day 5 of the Girls Behaving Badly tour
Edison: What city are you in?
Fancy: New Jersey.
Edison: How are things going with Darla?
Fancy: At this point we’re not talking to each other. We ride on separate buses. She’s in a bus with Chap. They’re dating now.
Edison: Ouch.
Fancy: Not gonna lie it’s kind of surreal. But they seem happy together.
Edison: Darla likes to pretend she’s winning.
Fancy: I miss you. I didn’t realize how hard it would be being away from you.
Edison: It makes sense, I mean I’m pretty amazing.
Day 12 of the Girls Behaving Badly tour
Edison: I have a beautiful blond in my bed right now.
Fancy: Do not play with me, Edison. I will hop on the next plane and scratch somebody’s eyes out.
Edison: Well, Katt’s claws are considerably sharper than yours and lately she doesn’t play when it comes to me.
Fancy: I thought she was an outside cat.
Edison: It’s been raining the last couple of days. I think she’s looking for cover from the storm. But it’s nice to have company. Yeti is also here and wants you to know I’m his favorite now.
Day 19 of the Girls Behaving Badly tour
Edison: Francesca?
Fancy: Whoa, are you mad at me?
Edison: Why would you ask that?
Fancy: Because you just called me by my government name. And that’s rare.
Edison: My bad, I didn’t notice. Not mad. Lonely, horny, and unmoisturized? Yes. But not mad.
Fancy: Why are you ashy?
Edison: Because when you left you took the fancy smell good lotion with you, and I’ve become accustomed to the finer things but I can’t remember the name of the brand.
Fancy: I’ll order you a jar, ASAP. I need you to stay pretty for me.
Edison: Thanks, if you could also slip a pair of your worn panties in the box I’d appreciate it.
Fancy: Eww … but maybe.
Day 27 of the Girls Behaving Badly tour
Fancy: Look up at the sky. Is the moon as big in Tennessee as it is in North Dakota?
Edison: It practically takes up the entire sky.
Fancy: I like the thought that we’re looking at the same moon even though we’re miles apart. It gives me a sense of comfort. Is that weird?
Edison: I don’t think it’s weird. I like the thought of the moon as our compass. Anytime you look up at the sky you think of me and know that I’m doing the same.
Day 32 of the Girls Behaving Badly tour
Edison: That video you sent me was …
Fancy: I wanted to remind you of what you’re missing.
Edison: Not gonna lie I’ve probably jacked off to it more than I’m willing to admit.
Fancy: That was the plan. Every time you touch yourself, I want you to pretend it’s me.
Edison: You keep sending images like that and I can guarantee you I will.
Fancy: Feel free to return the favor at any time.
Edison: You want me to make a single player porno?
Fancy: Ugh please don’t call it porno, I hate that word.
Edison: What would you have me call it? Skin flick, X rated adult entertainment, a single subscriber Only Fans account. I mean if my dick’s involved it’s gonna be triple X rated.
Fancy: Video chat, now?
Edison: Yes.
Day 38 of the Girls Behaving Badly tour
Fancy: I don’t know if I can continue to fake the funk like this.
Edison: What’s wrong?
Fancy: I’m just tired and overwhelmed.
Edison: That’s understandable, you’re working really hard.
Fancy: Everyone thinks I’m making a mistake breaking up the group. And the label is offering up lots of money for another joint album.
Edison: …
Fancy: Do you think I’m making a mistake?
Edison: I don’t think I’m the best person to ask. This decision has to be yours, but I’ll support you no matter what.
Fancy: I’m scared.
Edison: Of what?
Fancy: Of fucking everything up.
Day 40 of the Girls Behaving Badly tour
Edison: Guess who just sold the rooster stools.
Fancy: No, I love those stools.
Edison: They were hideous.
Fancy: They were camp and fun.
Edison: So, you don’t want me to sell the rooster stools?
Fancy: How much did you get for them?
Edison: Just under three thousand.
Fancy: For those ugly ass stools.
Edison: I thought they were fun and camp?
Fancy: That was before I knew some idiot was willing to spend close to three grand for them.
Day 45 of the Girls Behaving Badly tour
Fancy: What’s the first thing you want to do when I get home?
Edison: Seriously?
Fancy: Yeah.
Edison: When you get here, I’m taking some days off. The fridge will be stocked, and the sheets will be fresh. And you will not be allowed to leave the house. Clothes will be forbidden. And our lips will be raw from all the kissing.
Fancy: So, you’re going to make me your sex doll for a week?
Edison: Well, we have a lot of time to make up for.
Fancy: We sure do. I guess spending the day wrapped up in your arms will suffice.
Edison: Oh, I almost forgot. The shed was delivered today.
Fancy: Shed?
Edison: Yep, I got you a shed for your music. It looks basic right now but when me and Oz are through it’ll be a temperature controlled cozy space to create. Right now, we’re working on the electrical and plumbing. I’m gonna hold off on making any design decisions because I want you to have a say in the decor.
Fancy: Edison, you didn’t have to go to all that trouble. I could have found a spot in the house.
Edison: No, you deserve a space all your own. I have the garage, and you’ll have your she shed.
Fancy: She shed.
Edison: That’s what they call it. Google it. There’s a ton of inspiration. I’ve pinned a few interiors I think you might like. I’ll text them to you.
Fancy: Sounds like you’re really loving the Wi-Fi.
Edison: It comes in handy.
Fancy: Thank you. You didn’t have to do that, but I appreciate it.
Edison: Baby, my home is your home, and I want you to love being there.
Fancy: No more purchases until I get back. Since when did you and Oz start hanging out again?
Edison: We’re not hanging out. He’s good with electrical wiring.
Fancy: Don’t let Dial find out.
Edison: Rolling my eyes emoji.
Fancy: You know you could just use the actual emoji.
Day 51 of the Girls Behaving Badly tour
Edison: Are you still up?
Fancy: Unfortunately, yes, still on an adrenaline high from the show tonight.
Edison: Fans posted clips of the show. You and Darla look great up there.
Fancy: It’s funny, we’ve spoken less than five words to each other but when we get on stage we lock in and it’s like my best friend is back. Kind of a mind fuck.
Edison: Maybe there’s still something there.
Fancy: If there is I’d have to sweep away a mountain of rubble to get to it.
Day 60 of the Girls Behaving Badly tour
Edison: This day just took a turn.
Fancy: What’s wrong.
Edison: My parents put the house up for sale.
Fancy: Eddy, I know you were hoping they’d change their minds.
Edison: I thought we had more time. It’s not even December. How could they just sell my childhood home. I don’t want strangers roaming around in it.
Fancy: We could make an offer on it. And just figure out the details later.
Edison: No. I’m not a do it for the plot type of guy.
Fancy: All in is it under a million?
Edison: Yeah.
Fancy: Let’s buy a fucking house.
Edison: Fancy, whoa.
Fancy: I’m serious.
Edison: I know you are and that’s what scares me.
Fancy: It could be an extra place for Maple or our future kids. Maybe Dial or Cyrus want to get in on this. It’s a great investment.
Edison: You want to purchase and upkeep a home for the swimmers in my nut sack?
Fancy: Not just any home. Your home.
Edison: Decisions like this aren’t made via text message.
Fancy: Then call me and I’ll tell you the same damn thing.
Day 66 of the Girls Behaving Badly tour
Fancy: Whatcha doing?
Edison: Dial is over here making brisket and getting on my last nerve.
Fancy: Tell her I said hello.
Edison: …
Fancy: Did she say hi back?
Edison: Something like that.
Fancy: When I get back, I’m going to make it my mission to become her best friend.
Edison: Good luck with that.
Fancy: I’m talking about friendship bracelets, late night chats, and braiding one another’s hair.
Edison: This is Dial. I don’t like being touched.
Fancy: Okay we’ll work on that because I’m a hugger.
Day 75 of the Girls Behaving Badly tour
Edison: When do we get to start the countdown.
Fancy: Countdown for what?
Edison: Counting down the days until you’re back in my arms.
Fancy: Wait let me pull up my calendar. I count fifteen days.
Edison: Damn fifteen days? I need the number to be in the single digits.
Fancy: You need to enjoy your last few weeks alone because when I get back, I’m not letting you out of my sight. You are going to be sick of me after the first few days.
Edison: Not possible.
Day 86 of the Girls Behaving Badly tour
Fancy: Four days and a wake up.
Edison: I think I should warn you before you return. That I’ve dyed all my hair platinum blond.
Fancy: Whoa.
Edison: Yep. It was late one night, and I had one too many beers and dyed my hair, brows, and balls blond.
Fancy: Very funny.
Edison: It was funny at the time but now not so much.
Fancy: You’re joking right?
Edison: You’ll just have to wait and see. I tell you what when I go to The Tipsy Owl I no longer have to pay for my beers. Blonds do have more fun.
Day 88 of the Girls Behaving Badly tour
Edison: I miss you so much it hurts.
Fancy: We’re so close. I feel like my entire body is tingling in anticipation.
Edison: Hmm … you might want to get that checked out.
Fancy: Make sure you tell my mother no parties. I don’t want a big fuss. I just want it to be me and you.
Edison: I can assure you there are no parties scheduled on your first day back. I can’t attest to anything that may be planned after that.
Fancy: Ugh, that woman will find any reason to invite people over.
Edison: I’m nervous.
Fancy: Why?
Edison: I just feel like you’re giving up a lot for me. And I don’t want you to wake up one day and resent me for decisions you made so we could be together.
Fancy: I’m not stupid. I’ve thought about this long and hard. And I’ve waffled, but not because of you. I want everything you have to offer Edison Birch.
Edison: I love the fuck outta you, Francesca.
Our last performance was in Seattle, Washington. From my dressing room, I could already feel the kinetic energy from the crowd. Whiskey Wild’s very first performance was at the Hume Sweet Summer Jubilee. Back then our stage name was Wildflowers because we were ten. It was chilly and I’d eaten an entire candy apple and was afraid I was going to barf. When we got on stage, and I strummed the starting notes on my guitar, a sense of calm fell over me. Granted, the crowd consisted of about fifty people, and we were currently selling out arenas and performing in front of thousands. But everyone has to start somewhere. And that small crowd in Hume with Edison standing in the very front cheering us on was how I got mine.
After our ten-minute set, I was hooked. You couldn’t tell me Darla and I weren’t going to be stars. I also believed we’d be friends forever. But Darla chose Chap’s side, and I had to learn to let shit go. My lifelong friendship, the group I loved, and the fans we cultivated through an affection for folksy country music. I didn’t think I’d be starting over at twenty-nine, but you know the saying when your plans fail, change the plan, not the goal.
Making my way to the side stage, I stood next to Darla. She looked beautiful in a long, sheer, fringed cover-up and bedazzled jeans. I wore ripped up sparkly jean shorts to show off my legs and a halter top. We were color coordinated but not matchy matchy. If you followed the group, you know we had our distinct styles. Darla was more refined. While I was the chick who kicked off her boots and danced around the stage barefoot.
“Can’t believe this is our last show,” Darla said.
“Neither can I.” Staring straight ahead, I refused to look at her for fear I’d burst into tears. Yes, ending us was my decision, but I was still sad about it.
“I thought we’d be old and gray, with our tits sagging still cranking out hits.”
“So did I. And I would’ve loved that for us.”
Darla turned to face me and reached for my hand, giving it a soft squeeze. “I’m sorry Fancy, I really am.”
“I know you are. And I still consider you my sister. I just need time and space.”
“Moniece said you’re going back to Hume after this.”
“I am.”
“So, you and Edison huh?”
My face cracked into a deep smile. “Yep, me and Edison.”
Across the jumbo screens a montage of Darla and I through the years played. Whoops and hollers echoed through the crowd. The video highlighted the progression of our career with home video clips and of shows and backyard concerts. A picture of Darla and I at the age of four hugging each other tight was the last image. No doubt this was Chap’s doing. This video hadn’t played at our other shows; it was most likely his last ditch effort to change my mind about the group.
The three-minute retrospective of our lives left me misty eyed. We could’ve had it all, but a fucking man got in the way. If Darla had ditched Chap, I could’ve moved past it, eventually. I’m not saying it would’ve been easy but for Darla it would’ve been worth it. At the end of the day, I was devastated. Darla managed to do what no man ever could, break my fucking heart.
When we walked to the center stage, the crowd was pumped and from the first beat of the drums, it was like a whirlwind. Darla and I were in a zone feeding off the crowd and one another. One thing Whiskey Wild was good at was raising hell. I would miss this. I’d miss us. The news about our split had been kept top secret, with the label planning to release a statement at the conclusion of the tour.
Listening to Darla sing her verse, I was still in awe of her effortless voice. Good musical chemistry like ours was hard to find. Darla and I just fit. So, the fact she was willing to jeopardize that for a man who would end up as a footnote in her life was tough to accept. The lights were bright, the crowd was loud, and the harmonies were flowing. Hopefully lightning would strike twice, and I’d be able to gain this level of fame as a solo artist. But if this was it, then it was a hella of a way to say farewell.
During our last song, we danced with the crowd, performing a two-step across center stage while both hitting licks on the guitar. She and I bounced and gyrated like we were having the time of our lives. And maybe we were. I was always happiest when I was on a stage. The band ceased to play so Darla and I could finish the chorus together a cappella.
We’re the good time girls, wild and free,
Sun-kissed smiles and Tennessee breeze.
Dancing on the bar like we own this town,
Two-step spinning till the sun goes down.
We ain’t looking for forever, just a midnight whirl,
Oh, we’re the good time girls.
When the last note fell silent, the crowd continued to roar. And as always, their love and appreciation was like a power bank filling my happiness meter. Darla and I took several bows while throwing kisses and waving at the crowd.
“You ain’t gotta go home. But you do need to get the hell up outta here,” I teased the crowd.
“Thanks for partying with us,” Darla called out.
“We’re Whiskey Wild and it’s been a pleasure,” I said, tossing my arm around Darla and walking off the stage.
The crowd cheered for an encore, not wanting it to end. There really was no other feeling like it, creating art and connecting with people who got it and saw you. I was grateful for the journey, even if the final destination was unfamiliar territory. Whiskey Wild was built from the ground up, and I could do it again. If that meant I had to start from scratch, I was willing to hit the fair and festival circuit to continue sharing my music with others.
Darla pointed to the stage with lights still flashing and our band riffing just in case we decided to play one last song. “Are you really willing to walk away from all this?”
It was a question I’d wrestled with for most of the tour. Being an adult was hard, especially when so much was riding on you getting it right. I didn’t want to let anyone down, but I needed to stand on business.
“Yeah, I am.” I removed my earpiece, secured my guitar to my shoulder and walked away. Moniece was right behind me, talking about flight arrangements for the next morning. This Whiskey Wild era had been amazing, but now it was time to conjure up new dreams and slay fiercer dragons.