Chapter 10 Way Back When #4
“Have you met Tex?” Paloma asked, gesturing toward a tall, dark-haired man dressed in a black-and-silver Western-style shirt, Levi’s, and, of all things, a white Stetson. “He leads the Moo-Town Spurs.”
Jace shook his hand, earning a broad smile of even whiter teeth. “Sabine told me about you guys. You do old-time cowboy songs, right?”
“Modern honky-tonk,” he replied blithely. “And you can call me Nolan.”
Jace looked at him more closely. “Wait, Nolan Greene of the Greenerators out of Kalamazoo?”
Nolan grinned. “That was a while ago. You’ve got a good memory.”
“You had some kick-ass songs. I like screaming along to them when I’m stuck in traffic.” Jace stared at the Stetson. “What possessed you to give up punk for country?”
“I missed being melodic, and country is better on the vocal chords,” Tex said, tapping his throat. “Anyway, I was telling Paloma how much we’d love to tour with you if you need an opening act, or an opener to your opener.”
Jace hesitated. “I wish I could help you, but our lineup is set for the rest of the year. We’ll be playing with other Seal-Eye bands during our US dates; that way the label can promote us all at the same time. I’m sorry.”
“I get it. You need to do what your label tells you to right now.” Nolan turned to Paloma.
“But if you’re in town the first weekend in August, maybe you could do a set at the Ferndale Family Fair.
It’ll be a fundraiser for a bunch of community groups, including gay and lesbian youth outreach programs. I’m sure they’d be thrilled if you could be a part of it. ”
“Of course,” Paloma said without a glance at Jace. “Count me in.”
“We’ll need to check your tour schedule first,” Jace said quickly, feeling a bit miffed that Paloma would agree to do a low-profile benefit in the middle of festival season without talking to her first.
“Fair enough.” Nolan fished a business card out of his shirt pocket and handed it to her.
“Here’s my info; I’ll be in touch closer to the time.
” Nolan tipped his white hat toward them then said, in an accent thick as corn pone, “Congratulations, Miss Paloma. And Miss Jace, thank you for throwing such a first-class shindig.”
Finally alone, or as alone as they could be in a crowded room, Jace embraced Paloma, surprised to find herself near tears. “You are a star,” she whispered into Paloma’s ear. “You’re my star.”
“And you’re my night sky.” Paloma pulled back slightly, her fingers brushing Jace’s jaw, her mouth soft. Jace wanted this so much—a lover’s kiss of victory—but stiffened and stepped back. She noticed something that confirmed she was right to have her guard up.
“Reporters at ten o’clock,” Jace whispered as two men in denim jackets approached, one with a mini tape recorder and the other with a camera slung around his neck.
“You have a minute, Paloma?” Tape Recorder Guy asked.
Jace stuck out her hand. “I’m Jace Randolph, Paloma’s business manager. Who are you two with?”
“,” Tape Recorder Guy said with a brief handshake.
Jace and Paloma had talked with Seal-Eye about what press coverage would be the most valuable to them; was at the top of their list.
“Wow, I’m glad you guys were able to come out for the show and stay this late to chat,” Paloma gushed. “What would you like to know?”
He started his interview with softball questions about the album and the Detroit garage scene, but just as Paloma seemed to be hitting a comfortable stride, he threw a curve ball. “Do you think Detroit bands are superior to what’s coming out of the East and West Coasts right now?”
“In terms of what, exactly?” Paloma asked.
“Musicianship. Talent. Something more substantial than just being the next fad the promoters have glommed onto.”
Based on his smug expression, Jace could tell this guy had already made up his mind that Detroit was not on that level, and perhaps Paloma was a prime example of why.
She was ready to interject that many important national music critics had been buzzing about the city for some time, but Paloma answered first.
“Well, this isn’t a competition. There’s room for all of us. We all have our fans.”
“Next question: In your previous EP, your lyrics are overtly homosexual.”
“Is that a question?” Paloma’s voice was playful, but Jace could see her body tense.
“I thought it was interesting that Cutie Pie has none of that,” the interviewer said. “Did that change in direction happen because of pressure from the label?”
Jace stood very still. She knew that even after all these months, this was still a sore subject for Paloma, and this guy from was already working her nerves.
She kept her cool. “I’m proud to be a Seal-Eye artist, and I hope anyone and everyone will give Cutie Pie a listen.”
“Do you still consider yourself a lesbian musician?” he asked.
Paloma kept smiling. “I’m a musician.”
“A musician who’s sold out?”
Jace stepped between them as the camera flashed. “It’s been a long night. You can follow up with me later if you need anything else, okay?”
“She didn’t answer the question,” he retorted.
“She’s done. Enjoy your evening.” They turned their backs on the two men and headed backstage.
Jace caught up with Paloma in the dressing room. When she touched her shoulder, Jace realized Paloma was shaking. “Hey, don’t let that guy ruin your night.”
“At least that reporter was straightforward about being an asshole, unlike a lot of our supposed friends,” Paloma said as she stepped away from her, her arms folded tightly against her chest. “Colin’s brother made a crack about me ‘selling out’ earlier tonight.
I thought he was joking, but thinking about it now, I’m pretty sure he believes I violated some unspoken code of indie ethics by signing with a major label. ”
“He’s probably just jealous.”
“And when I went by the bar a while ago, I overheard the drummer from Whistle Rod trashing the video, calling it ‘ruin porn’ and saying how disgusting it was that we made Detroit look like a wasteland. I mean, are they right?”
“Of course not. You know and I know that’s not what anyone thinks when they see your video.”
Paloma didn’t seem to have heard her. “One guy even yelled at me because our T-shirts sold out. How is that my fault?”
“You should talk to your business manager about that.” Paloma’s sullen expression told Jace she wasn’t ready to joke about anything yet.
“Hey, listen to me,” Jace said, kissing Paloma’s forehead.
“That handful of jackasses mean nothing compared to the hundreds of people out there who love you and are thrilled by your success. Think about them instead.”
“Maybe we should pull the music video,” Paloma said softly.
“Absolutely not,” Jace said, hoping she could keep Paloma from falling down an emotional well. “It’s cool, it’s evocative, and it’s gonna help you sell a ton of CDs. It’ll make Detroiters proud.”
That made Paloma smile a little. “It is cool, isn’t it?”
“It really is, babe.”
Paloma nodded, but her voice was muted. “I don’t know how you can just turn off how you feel when shit like this happens. I sure can’t. Maybe I’m in the wrong business.”
At this point, Jace was used to Paloma’s negative self-talk even in the midst of success. She knew those doubts and fears were real, and persistent, and exhausting. As her manager, and her girlfriend, it was Jace’s job to keep them at bay.
She pulled Paloma in for a hug. “You’re in the right business, and so am I. Tonight, you concentrate on having fun. Leave the jerks to me. Okay, babe?”
Paloma relaxed into Jace’s arms, then they headed back to the party, Jace at the ready to defend her from any of the naysayers, even Paloma herself.