Not That Long Ago #2
Sabine nodded. “The first time was in 1969. Stavros’s son Nick said it was the worst decision of his life to book them. Then again, Nick was not a fan of ‘reefer music,’ so I’m not surprised.”
“This is a Lana Berlin photo, right?” Livvy asked, finding a signature on the back.
“Yes.”
“Do you know her personally?”
“Absolutely lovely woman,” Sabine said. “I sell prints of her work at shows sometimes, and when I run out, I call her and she drops off another stack. If you want to use any of her work in your book, I’ll put you two in touch.”
“Wow,” Livvy said, examining the promotional shot the legendary photographer had taken of the Screds on Belle Isle.
She went through the shots from the ’90s, shaking her head in wonder.
“God, everyone played here. Did you have a sense of how influential some of these acts would become when you booked them back then?”
“A lot of them didn’t even know if they’d have another gig, much less a career,” Jace said. “Most of them were just happy that they’d booked a venue that had some local cachet.”
Livvy chose another photo and examined it closely before handing it to her aunt.
Late twentieth-century Paloma was framed center stage, the lights pouring over her from all angles, sequins on her T-shirt sparkling like stars.
The shot caught her mid-lyric, her right hand a blur over her guitar, joy and power radiating from every pore.
“This one is great,” Livvy said. “Do you know who the photographer was so I can look into rights?”
“Actually, that’s one I took, and you’re welcome to use it,” Sabine said. “There should be a few more in that bunch of color photos, too.”
Livvy scanned the pile. “Ooh, candid shots! Look at these, Aunt Jace. When were they taken?”
Jace picked up a handful. “The Cutie Pie release party in ’99,” she replied fondly. “Look at us…oh, look at us.”
There was Paloma, Jace, and the Seal-Eye reps posed in front of a poster-sized version of the album artwork.
Eager fans handing Paloma CDs to sign. Colin wailing away on his drum kit, and Mary facing down the audience with a menacing glare.
All of them young and fearless and ready to take over the world.
It occurred to Jace that someone was missing out on the nostalgia party. “Where is Mo?”
“She’s been hovering at the bar,” Sabine said with gentle irritation. “She isn’t convinced that the new bartender knows how to mix tonight’s signature cocktail. And to think, when I hired her, all Mo could do was pop the cap off of a beer bottle.”
As if they had conjured her, Mo appeared in the office doorway, wearing a black baseball cap with the Artemis logo and a dark blue work jacket. “Sab, I’ll jump in when the bar orders get backed up.”
“No, they’ll have everything under control, I promise. Come have some dinner.”
“Yes, missus,” Mo said, getting a couple of squares of pepperoni onto a paper plate before sliding a folding chair next to Sabine and giving her a smooch on the lips.
“Did you see these photos?” Jace asked, holding up one of Mo in the midst of a big-hearted laugh, with Sabine beaming at her.
“Oh, you look gorgeous, Sab,” Mo said with an adoring glance.
“Looking at this, it’s a wonder it took more than twenty years for you two to finally get together,” Jace said to Sabine.
“Sometimes love has to wait for people to be ready to admit it,” she said. “We were never on the same page until, after all that time, we finally were.”
“Tectonic plates move faster,” Mo muttered as a bit of sauce dripped onto her wedding band. “I like your shirt, Jace.”
Accepting the compliment, she sat a bit taller, adjusting her black denim jacket so that everyone could see the bright red T-shirt with the lemon yellow Wonder Woman logo across the chest. “Thanks. It was a gift.”
They chatted and ate until the large digital clock over the doorway said 8:55. Jace stood, tossing her trash in the bin. “I need to get in there to hear the opener. Anyone else want to join?”
“I’ll join you in a bit,” Livvy said. “I had a couple of questions for Sabine and wanted to jot down some notes before I forget.”
“Go on in,” Mo said. “We’ll find you later.”
Jace went to the back of the room, introducing herself to the two techs who were running lights and sound before standing in her usual spot.
The first of the three bands playing that night was a four-piece group from Ypsilanti calling themselves Obvi.
Made up of Eastern Michigan University students, they’d only been together a few months and were more loud than good at this point, but they had a daffy rapport that caught Jace’s attention.
And even though the audience was sparse this early in the evening, many of them were folks who probably had never been to the club before, which was fantastic. New blood meant new business.
Three numbers into their set, Jace felt an arm link with hers and a soft kiss on her cheek. “Hey, babe. Sorry I’m late.”
Jace turned, taking Paloma in her arms for an extended hug before walking her out of the noisy room and into Sabine’s now empty office. Paloma dropped her duffel bag in a corner and spotted the pizza boxes.
“Ah, I so love tradition,” she said with a laugh, snagging a stone-cold veggie slice. “I didn’t stop for dinner on the drive out here; I haven’t had anything since lunch.”
Jace and Paloma had gotten into a rhythm of commuting every other weekend to stay at their respective houses.
It was still a weird, exciting combination of hanging out with an old friend and chatting up a fascinating stranger.
They’d spent so much time apart, so many years living their lives solo, they’d agreed to take this next phase very slowly.
No rush to move to the same part of the state; no need to spend every weekend together.
There were plenty of ground rules, too. Jace wasn’t managing any part of Paloma’s business, and Paloma was not guaranteed to book a slot at the Artemis, although frankly that was a guideline more than a rule since she reliably drew a large crowd.
Neither one was to offer advice uninvited.
And their most important rule was to always be honest with each other about their feelings or opinions.
At this age and place in their lives, they were finally able to talk to each other without holding anything back, knowing that the other person cared and was ready to listen, even if she didn’t always agree.
Paloma was wearing what she called rock mama drag: a long-sleeved black tee under a scruffy Soundamania tour shirt, olive-green cargo capris, and a newish pair of checkerboard Vans.
She’d told Jace she admired Sabine for going gray with style but hadn’t taken that step herself.
Her new stylist in Detroit had convinced her to crop her hair into a cheeky ash-blond bob that echoed her ’90s look.
She looked at Jace as she finished her snack and smiled proudly. “Looking good, Wonder Woman!”
That made Jace feel like hot property. “Livvy told us how much she’s enjoying talking to you. Are you sick of her yet?”
“Of course not. She keeps telling me how cool I am. I’ll talk to her until she begs for mercy.”
“That’ll work for me. I’m glad to have her around.”
“So is Rennie,” Paloma said.
Jace rolled her eyes. “Hoo boy.”
“Why are you so grumpy? The two of them are adorable together.”
“I dunno. Dating a musician is tricky.”
Paloma chuckled. “Shit, if she doesn’t know that from growing up with her aunt Jace, she’ll never learn that lesson. Besides, you’re the one booking Rennie’s band here. If you’d just say no, they’d spend more time getting rich from their coding gig to better afford keeping Livvy in comfort.”
Thankfully, Rennie’s ability as a guitarist was beginning to meet the demands of their unflappable enthusiasm.
Purple Betty had just brought in a new keyboard player, too, so their sound was locking into place: early ’60s pop squirted through a broken speaker.
Sabine had been right: Rennie had just needed time and space to bloom, and now they were building a following in the city and elsewhere in the Midwest.
Jace gazed at Paloma’s relaxed sense of joy. She wasn’t about to take credit for her happiness—Paloma owned that completely—but Jace was glad to see it more and more. “I’m so glad you’re back in my life,” she said, her face aglow.
“Thank God,” Paloma said, her smile warm and broad.
They chatted while Paloma wiped out the rest of the pizza, then Livvy stuck her head in the doorway, looking peeved. “Aunt Jace, are you coming? They’re almost done with sound check.”
“Of course.”
Paloma headed toward the door then turned and pulled Jace toward her.
Her kiss was raw and deep, her fingers teasing Jace’s scalp until she shivered.
Jace hummed as Paloma’s lips dotted across her jaw and the bowl of her neck.
As pragmatic as she wanted to be about their future together, Jace couldn’t imagine life being any better than right now: in the arms of the woman who thrilled and delighted her damn near every moment.
Paloma pulled back and smiled. “That’s to thank you for making me breakfast tomorrow. I’ll have more to add when we get to your place.”
“You’d better.”
By now, the main floor was full. Sabine waved them over to sit next to her and Mo in the riser seats.
Jace inserted her earplugs and took a chair as Paloma sat on the aisle.
From their vantage point, she was pleased to see how varied the audience was in every way.
Everyone was welcome at the Artemis, now more than ever.
As the minutes ticked by with no one on stage, someone started a chant that soon took over the room:
When I say purple, you say Betty
Purple! BETTY!
Purple! BETTY!
At last, the Voice of God came over the PA: “Please give it up for Purple Betty!”
Jace and Paloma leaped to their feet and cheered as Rennie came to center stage.
They were grinning and waving to the whoops and hollers from the crowd as the bassist, keyboard player, and drummer filled in behind them.
Having evolved their look over the past year, Rennie was now sporting a long, bumpy pixie cut dyed blue-black and wore a fierce amount of eyeliner.
Clad in an embellished violet-colored military jacket, tight black jeans, and motorcycle boots, they were devastatingly sexy.
“Hey, y’all!” they shouted, settling the guitar across their hips. “I have to say: You are the tastiest humans in all creation. It’ll be hard to concentrate with all of y’all standing in front of us, but we’ll find a way.” They turned to their bandmates and counted off: “One, two, three—GO!”
The aural assault began, and Jace couldn’t help but grin.
This was Detroit garage music for the future, and it was having the same effect on her as it had when she first walked in the door of the Artemis.
Adrenaline flooded her veins, and electricity raced through every cell.
Her feet couldn’t keep still, and she couldn’t stop smiling.
Paloma looped her arm around her waist and leaned into her as the music flowed through them, their bodies pulsing like a beating heart.
The music had changed, but the love had not.