Chapter 11 Not Long Ago
Not Long Ago
Jace was nursing a pint in the Cornucopia brew pub on Canfield, watching the front entrance for Jerome to arrive.
According to Livvy’s research, Jerome’s career had taken off after Cut to the Chorus premiered.
He had become a noted concert videographer over the past decade and was the host of a reputable podcast about Detroit’s indie and garage history.
Given that he’d filmed many of the heavy hitters Jace hoped to book for the September show, he was in a position to put in a good word.
Plus, he might have a lead on Paloma’s current location, which Jace desperately needed since Dustin had yet to respond to any of her emails.
Jace agreed it was worth buying the guy a beer and swallowing her lingering distaste long enough to pump him for information.
And just in case Jerome intended to act like a total prick, Jace had brought backup.
“Thanks for dinner,” Rennie said between bites of an artichoke pesto panini.
They were wearing a snapback baseball cap and a ringer T-shirt with a cartoon of Detroit Tiger Miguel Cabrera.
If they weren’t close to six feet tall, Rennie would look like a middle schooler on a field trip to Comerica Park.
“My pleasure,” Jace responded. “I figured you can talk to Jerome about how we’re staging the event in case he needs more details, and besides, I wanted to see where you are with our social media plan, so—why are you looking at me like that?”
“Sorry!” Rennie said, dropping their moony-eyed gaze. “I’m just amazed that I’m actually sitting here, talking to you. You’re a legend.”
“You’re kidding,” Jace said with an astonished laugh.
“Sabine’s told me all about how you put Paloma Doralle on the map,” Rennie said. “You took a queer, female guitarist from Detroit and made her into an inspiration and an icon for all of us next-gen queer musicians.”
Jace felt her face pinking up. “That’s really nice of you to say.”
“Plus, you managed Bitemother. BITEMOTHER!”
Jace was caught completely off guard. “You know Bitemother?”
“Oh my God, they are the absolute shit!” Rennie said, their face lighting up.
“I watched them a bazillion times on YouTube. Amazing energy, those guys. So much confidence and badassery. I wish I could have seen them play live, but they broke up before I was in kindergarten. And you made them possible, too! Like I said—legend!”
“Uh, thanks.” Jace had never had a fan before and wasn’t sure what was expected of her, so she reverted to the business at hand. “Can I see what you’ve worked up?”
“Sure thing,” Rennie said, wiping olive oil off their fingers and pulling their laptop out of their shoulder bag.
They opened a series of images, sized for posters and social media sites, each in a different neon shade and headed by the same title in black block letters: SAVE THE ARTEMIS it took her three years after Paloma left to be able to go to a concert without starting to bawl when the lights went down.
“Paloma had the kind of success I would have killed for, and she bolted with no explanation,” Jerome said plaintively.
“I can’t say I’m surprised you two aren’t in touch.
I wasn’t the only one who assumed the problem had to be you.
What other reason could there have been for her to drop out of sight? ”
Jerome’s words stung. Over the years, she had comforted herself by thinking Paloma disappearing couldn’t really be her fault.
Paloma had deep self-esteem issues and childhood traumas she wasn’t willing to fully address, and it wasn’t hard to believe that she’d cut and run because of that.
That assumption had even become a path toward forgiveness in Jace’s mind.
If Paloma had been so overwhelmed by her past, she might not have had the strength or the tools to cope, no matter how much Jace loved her.
At least that’s what she wanted to believe.
“I don’t know,” Jace finally replied. “I wish I did.”
Determined not to start baring her soul to a guy she hadn’t quite forgiven, she redirected the conversation back to her sales pitch.
“If you can help me locate Paloma, we can both find out what happened, with your cameras rolling to capture it in real time. Just think what you could do with that, Jerome. Film critics love rock docs as much as audiences do. And so do Oscar voters.”
At the word “Oscar,” Jerome lit up. “Working title: Pursuing Paloma: Live at the Club,” he said dreamily.
“And a soundtrack album could come out at the same time,” Jace offered.
“That would be awesome!” Rennie said.
Jace pressed forward. “Do you know anyone who’d be willing to take my call to help broker a meeting with her?”
He shook his head. “No one comes to mind.”
“What about Tex Mechs?” Jace asked.
“Tex Mechs?” Jerome asked back. “You mean Nolan?”
She thought for a second. “Right, Nolan Greene. He was the only one who went on camera to talk about Paloma in your film. Maybe he was more of a friend to her than some of the others.”
“I haven’t talked to him in years.” Jerome finished his pint.
“Look, even if Paloma suddenly appeared in a puff of smoke, I don’t know if I’d want to make another film.
It would be reaching even further back in time than Cut to the Chorus did, and a lot of the old gang have moved on.
Besides, is there even an audience for this material?
I’m not sure anyone is interested anymore. ”
“Oh, there is plenty of interest,” Rennie said, patting their laptop.
“With ‘Heart Fire’ playing all over social media, a lot of content creators are talking about Paloma and the other acts that came up at the same time. New bands are covering their songs; travel influencers are doing pieces about Detroit’s musical history.
And the nineties are hot! I’m nostalgic for the whole era. ”
“Were you even born by the nineties?” Jace asked.
“Nah. I’m Gen Z through and through,” they replied.
“How can you be nostalgic for a time you didn’t experience?” Jace said, amused.
Jerome stared into his empty glass. “Be careful,” he said. “Nostalgia can be pretty painful.”