My Name is Julia

A Novel

Lois Alan

To request permission, send email to Lois@LoisAlan.com or call 720.515.7483

Chapter 1

May 1986 – a Detroit suburb

I sit on a slab of cracked cement near the driveway, allowing the late afternoon sun to dry my tears. The first two weeks of marriage should be blissful. Happy. Not the beginning of a life sentence. I ache for the comfort of a loving husband. A gentle touch, a hug. Anything.

He bursts out the door and stops short when he sees me. His eyes narrow, like he’s trying to think of something else to argue about.

I try to smile, but my emotions refuse to betray me.

He huffs a breath and strolls to the curbside mailbox in the shade of the tall maple. Scores of sparrows chatter like an army of squeaky wheels. Returning with a stack of mail, his brows draw close together as he examines a manila envelope. “Why is my wife getting mail from another man?”

He says wife as if it’s some sort of disease.

I rush to his side, and the air disappears from my lungs when I recognize the handwriting. No. Not now. Not today. I grab the envelope. “That’s addressed to me.”

It slips through my fingers as he holds it beyond my reach and drops the rest of the mail. “You’re not Julia Sebastian anymore.”

My shaky hands grip his arm, pulling with all my strength. “Give me that envelope.”

He jerks his arm from my grasp, causing me to fall hard onto the ground, then looks down his nose and smirks. “Well, aren’t you all worked up in a tizzy.”

I dust the dirt from my aching thigh and glare at him. Fine. Maybe if he reads another man’s expression of undying love for me, he’ll snap out of this awful behavior. Things can’t go on like this.

He rips open the envelope. His eyes narrow, and his nostrils flare as he grabs my arm and yanks me to his side. His fingers dig into my skin. “What is this?” he says through clenched teeth.

My eyes fall onto a photo proof sheet, and a stabbing pain rips through my body. My knees weaken. I don’t understand. Those pictures were destroyed a long time ago. “I … I’m sorry. Please—”

“You … you’re nothing but a—” His eyes grow wild as he shoves me away and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

My mind races, trying to figure out what to say, what to do. “Those … that … that was before we met.”

Life drains from his dark eyes, and his finger hovers inches from my face. “I never should’ve married a girl like you.”

Chapter 2

Six months earlier – November 1985

I apply a deep shade of red to my lips, picturing his long, dark curls. The way he shakes them away from his eyes when he talks to me. Oh, those eyes. I spray Obsession on my neck, wondering if he’ll be close enough to smell it. The chorus of “Panama” blares from my room, and I sing along as I tame my curls with Vidal Sassoon styling lotion.

My roommate, Kathy, bursts into the bathroom, and my makeup bag falls into the sink. “Oh, Jules. I’m sorry! I thought you already left.” She returns my bag to the counter. “Gabe’s taking me to dinner at Luciano’s. He’ll be here in 30 minutes.”

“Let me guess. You’ll have a bottle of Chardonnay with a side of Fettuccine Alfredo?”

Kathy laughs as she brushes her long blonde hair. She gives me a double take and smiles. “Wearing your new lipstick, I see.” She raises her brows. “I knew it’d look great on you.”

“It’s not too dark?”

“Not at all.” She sprays more perfume on me. “You’ll get his attention one way or another.”

I restrain a smile. It took me a while to admit I was attracted to Bryan Harper, the lead guitarist in my band. But now that Kat figured it out, she won’t let it go.

“Flirt with him tonight, okay? Just a little.”

“We’re gonna be busy. It’s Vicky’s first practice and she needs to learn our entire set.”

“Oh man, I wish I could go with you. I’m dying to hear her sing in person.”

“Yeah, me too. And if she sings like she did on her demo, we can start playing gigs.” I tighten my moccasin boots, stand tall, and smile. “Well, how do I look?”

“Like a rock star.” Kathy lifts her brows and nods. “He doesn’t have a chance.”

***

I tap my fingers on the steering wheel as I inch through the downtown-Detroit traffic. I wave another driver into my lane, and we lurch forward like hungry people in line at a soup kitchen. My exit finally arrives. The 45-minute drive has taken an hour. I park my truck and race into the studio, juggling my gear against the blustery wind.

I step into the rehearsal room, and everyone is already set up. Bryan’s brown curls fall just past his shoulders as he plays his electric guitar. His eyes sparkle when he sees me, causing butterflies to swarm in my stomach. Danny, our bass guitarist, is in his own little world, practicing riffs. I rush to my position, and a girl with tight pants, jet-black hair, and ivory skin stands near my amplifier.

She looks up from a sheet of lyrics and flashes a beautiful smile. “You must be Julia—”

“You must be Vicky—” We both speak at the same time and laugh. I want to talk more, but it’s pointless with everyone playing their instruments. I lift my guitar from its case and connect my reverb pedal to the Marshal amplifier.

She points to my Gibson L6S guitar. “It’s so cool you play,” she says close to my ear.

I nod a thank you, and my adrenaline spikes. Vicky has the right look, and I already like her.

“Okay, everyone. Let’s get started,” Wayne announces from behind his drum set, chomping a huge wad of bubble gum. He’s a talented drummer, but equally full of himself. I tolerate it, though. His uncle owns the studio and lets us practice here for free.

“Let’s start with ‘Round & Round,’” Bryan says into his mic. The lighting is muted, making it easy for me to get distracted by his snug jeans. And his lips. There’s something about the way he wears his guitar. “It sounded good last time, but I want to hear it with vocals.”

“Agreed.” I shift my focus to Vicky. “A powerful singer will pull the song together.”

“Okay,” Wayne says. “Vicky, you ready?”

She bites her lip, steps to the microphone, and nods. “Let’s do this!”

Wayne taps his sticks, giving us a two-beat intro. Bryan, Danny, and I begin in sync. I concentrate to ensure I don’t miss a single note or chord. Vicky belts out every word in key, showing off her wide vocal range. It’s a difficult song, but we’re all riding the same wave. Feeding off one another. It’s like a rock & roll symphony, and there’s no better high in the world.

Three hours fly by, and we have five songs ready. Vicky is the piece we’ve been missing. Her voice is the glue that holds these songs together. And from the look on everyone’s faces, I think we’re all feeling the same way. Maybe this band can actually make it.

Wayne jumps from the drum riser, flings one of his sticks into the air and catches it. “Dudes, with these songs down, we can play the VFW party.”

“Can your uncle record a couple songs with Vicky to update our demo?” I ask Wayne.

“No need. I already got it booked. Under our new official name, Artemis.” Wayne smirks.

“Artemis? Like the daughter of Zeus?” Bryan says.

“No.” Vicky laughs, her eyes glued on Wayne. “Like the name of my parrot.”

I can’t believe Wayne booked a gig and named our band without talking to us first. If he wasn’t such an excellent drummer, I’d want to replace him. Instead, I laugh with everyone else.

“Let’s drink to Artemis.” Danny cracks open a can of beer from our band’s stock in the studio fridge. Wayne’s the only one old enough to buy alcohol, another reason I tolerate him.

“Sorry, I have to go. I need to be at work early tomorrow morning.” I face Bryan, and our eyes lock. Energy surges through my body as I turn away, trying to conceal my smile, wishing I could stay longer. I pack my gear and head toward the door. “See ya all on Saturday.”

“Julia, wait up.” Bryan pulls on his black leather jacket, grabs his gear, and catches up to me. “Can we talk? In my car?”

My stomach flutters, but I try not to read into anything. He probably wants to set up another practice session at his house. Working out tricky guitar parts outside of scheduled rehearsals is the reason we play so well together. Why would tonight be any different? I shrug. “Sure.”

He holds the studio door open, and a blast of wind nearly blows the case from my hand. We run to his Ford LTD and set our gear in the backseat. He starts the engine, and cold air bursts from the vents. I shiver, pulling my jacket tight across my chest. Why do I feel so nervous?

“You were quiet tonight, especially toward the end.” He adjusts the vents and temperature. “Is everything okay? I mean, with Vicky and everything?”

“Yeah, she’s awesome.” A warm sensation creeps across my cheeks. Did he notice me looking at him tonight? Ugh. “I’m excited we’ll be able to play the VFW party.”

“Me too.” He faces me and smiles. “We sounded great tonight. I mean, you know, our whole band. I think we finally have what it takes to get noticed.”

I glance at his lips, wondering what it’d be like to kiss him. No! I need to go back to Los Angeles. I can’t get distracted from my goals. Not again. I lift my shoulders. “Yeah. Maybe.”

He releases a long breath, creating a vapor cloud. “I know. You want to get back to California.” He shrugs. “But something good could happen here.”

Our eyes meet and chills race to my fingertips. Now is not the time to rant about the Guitar Institute. “You’re right. If it’s meant to be, we’ll get noticed no matter where we are.”

He leans closer and raises his brows. “True, but only if you stay in the band.”

I study his warm brown eyes and feel our friendship morphing, as if we’ve been caught in the swell of a North Atlantic surge. I swallow. “Oh, really?”

“Really.” His gaze lingers, and a slow smile appears on his lips.

I try to steady my breathing, feeling drawn to him like a tide to the shore during a full moon.

He wraps his arm around me, gently closing the gap between us. “Still cold?” he whispers.

“Not anymore.” The warmth of his breath awakens every nerve in my body, piercing my core with some sort of magnetic pull. I close my eyes and inhale the subtle scent of his cologne mixed with the leather from his jacket. It’s intoxicating.

He pulls back a little and looks into my eyes. “Do you want to go out Friday night?” His question swirls like vibrant colors in a kaleidoscope.

“Yes.” My answer escapes without permission, though it’s the only viable response.

Our fingertips explore each other’s hands; his delicate touch rendering me helpless. Our eyes meet for an instant as he moves closer, and his lips tenderly kiss mine.

***

I pull into the driveway next to Kathy’s car, which means Gabe’s Ferrari is probably in the garage, and he’ll probably spend the night. I walk into the candle-lit house. Foreigner plays from Kathy’s bedroom, but she’s in the kitchen, wearing an oversized T-shirt and emptying the last of a bottle of Asti Spumante into her glass. “Hey, girl. How did it go tonight?”

I lean on the kitchen counter, thinking about Bryan, and my body tingles. “I’m glad I wore that new lipstick. You’re gonna be proud of me.”

Kathy’s mouth widens into a huge smile. “What happened?”

“Okay.” I grin. “So, after practice, Bryan says he wants to talk. We go into his car and—”

“Hey, Jules. How’s it going?” Gabe comes into the kitchen wearing only his jeans.

“A hundred percent amazing.” I smile at Kathy, eager to finish my story.

Gabe gets a beer from the fridge and lights a cigarette. “Ian came by looking for you tonight.”

Kathy hands me an envelope from the counter. “He wanted me to make sure you got this.”

“He’s coming here on Friday to etch some art on my windshield.” Gabe blows smoke toward the ceiling. “You should talk to him. He misses you.”

“Friday? Here?” My eyes bounce from Gabe to Kathy.

She bites her lip and shrugs, giving me puppy eyes. “I said they could use the garage.”

“Oh.” Tension squeezes my head as I check my watch. “Ugh. I need to get some sleep. Good night, guys.”

Kathy gives me a knowing look. “We’ll talk soon.”

I go into my room and toss the envelope onto my nightstand. My mind drifts to the tender moments with Bryan as I get ready for bed. I still can’t believe we kissed. I close my eyes and smile, and my stomach flutters again. It was everything I imagined it would be. Perfect. Magical. Inhaling, I flop onto my bed and reach to turn off the lamp when I see Ian’s envelope. He printed my name with his usual artistic flare, adding delicate embellishments. I let out a long sigh as I open it and read.

Dear Julia, I know you need space to concentrate on your music, and I hope things are coming together with your band. But ever since you moved out, my life has been empty. I can’t stop loving you. I still see your face whenever I close my eyes, and every curve of your body is imprinted in my mind. Please give me another chance. Life has no meaning without you. Forever yours, Ian.”

Just what I thought. How many times do I need to tell him it’s over?

I switch off the light and roll to my side. The scent of Bryan’s cologne remains on my skin.

Friday night, I smile.

Friday night, I groan.

Chapter 3

I stop at the entrance of my boss’s cubicle. “Morning, Mr. Zimmerman.”

Sitting at his desk, he peers above his reading glasses. “A bit early for you to be so chipper.”

“It’s Friday. The air is crisp.” I take a deep breath and smile. “Life is good.”

A subtle grin appears on the retired Army Colonel’s face. “Coordinate your schedule with Mr. Russell. That proposal needs to be shipped FedEx by close of business today. And report to HR to select your benefits package. You completed your six-month probation, exceeding my expectations.” He stands and shakes my hand. “Keep up the good work.”

“Thank you.” It feels good to be recognized, even if this job is just a means to an end.

“And make sure I get an aisle seat when you book my flight to Newark.”

“You got it.” I dash around the corner to answer the phone in my cubicle. With the handset in the crook of my neck, I scribble a message as the other line rings.

Mr. Markovich comes to my desk and jots a note, Coffee for 6 in 10 minutes. He points to the conference room and makes a silly face, like he dreads going in. He reminds me of my dad.

I hold back a chuckle and nod. “Mr. Nowak from TACOM is holding on line three,” I say to my boss before rushing to the break room.

“Hey, Jules.” Yvette examines the donuts as if selecting an engagement ring.

“Good morning.” I measure coffee and fill the reservoir with water. “The budget meeting’s about to start in the main conference room.”

“I was spared.” Yvette chooses a chocolate-glazed donut and chatters about her plans to prepare a fancy dinner for her in-laws on Saturday. Makes the time go fast while I wait for the coffee to brew. She’s my best friend here at work. A few years older. Married, no kids. Probably makes good money. But sometimes I wonder if she’s happy. “What’s the latest with your band?”

“I’ll tell you everything at lunch.” I can’t hold back this grin as I load the coffee cart and head to the conference room. She’s gonna flip when I tell her I’m going out with Bryan tonight.

***

I pull into my driveway, turn off the engine, and hear “Radar Love” from inside the garage. Ian. I need to think of a way to get him out of here before Bryan arrives. But how? My mind spins into overdrive as I walk to the garage. I take a deep breath, turn the cold knob, and step inside.

“Julia.” Wearing a faded concert jersey on his thin frame, Ian tosses back his long hair.

I blow dusty shavings from the intricate roses he etched into the windshield of Gabe’s car. “You’ve always been a talented artist.”

“Just need to put another rosebud in the corner, then finish the leaves.” He pops the top of a beer bottle. Two spots from the 6-pack are empty. “I took the day off, so I don’t have to rush.”

“Are you planning to finish tonight?”

“Hope to have it done before Kat and Gabe get back. She was craving egg rolls, so they went to Wing Lee’s.” Ian moves closer, his bloodshot eyes gazing into mine. “Did you read my letter?”

A heavy sigh escapes. “Yes.”

“I have so much to make up to you. Let me take you to dinner so we can talk.”

“No, Ian. We broke up, remember?” I glance at my watch.

He leans against the wall and lights a cigarette. “Oh, I see. You have plans.”

“Bryan’s coming over. We’re, um … working on some songs for practice tomorrow.”

“Good.” He shrugs. “But if there’s even a glimmer of hope, I’ll never give up on us.”

“Ian, please. There is no glimmer. There is no us.”

“Come on. We had a good thing. You and me, Gabe and Kat. So many memories.”

“Why can’t you see? Our relationship, everything we did … it threw me off course.”

“I know. Things got crazy for a while. But now you’re in a band, back on track. I want to help you with all that promo stuff we started.” He reaches for my hand.

I jerk it away. “Ian, stop! No more! You need to get it through your head. It’s over.”

He throws his hands up. “Okay. I get it. Now that you have your fancy job and a room here with Kat, you don’t need me anymore.” He scoffs. “You just used me for a place to stay.”

“Don’t you dare turn this around. If anything, you took advantage of me.” I narrow my eyes. “I would’ve been better off on the streets of LA.”

He glares at me as he chugs the rest of his beer. He snuffs out his cigarette and turns on the etching tool. As he steps toward the car, his foot catches the power cord. He loses his balance, and the tool dings the hood of the Ferrari 308. He inspects the damage, mumbling profanities.

Cringing, I hold my breath and back away from the car.

Ian rips the cord from the outlet and storms out the door. “Tell Gabe I’ll finish tomorrow,” he says as he beelines toward the bus stop. Ian relies on public transportation. It’s cheaper and more convenient, he says, since he works downtown. But I think it’s because he enjoys the freedom to drink. It’s cold. I’d offer him a ride, but he’d misinterpret my gesture. And with his long strides, he’s already halfway there. At least I don’t have to worry about him for the rest of the night.

Once inside the house, I jot a note to Gabe saying Ian will finish the job tomorrow. Bryan will be here in twenty minutes. I rush to my room to get ready.

***

At seven o’clock, a knock at the side door causes my pulse to race. He’s punctual. I take a deep breath and check my reflection one more time before I answer.

“Hey.” My stomach flutters as I hear myself giggle. Ugh. I need to chill out.

“Hi.” He smiles and hands me a bouquet of orange daisies. A beautiful arrangement he must’ve purchased at a florist.

“Wow. Thank you.” I smell spearmint on his breath as we hug.

“We’ll be cutting it close for the earlier show. Want to hang out here and catch a later one?”

“No sense in rushing.” I place the daisies into a jar and turn on the tap. The scent of his cologne distracts me, and water overflows into the sink. I hope he doesn’t notice. “You thirsty?”

“Sure, what do you have?”

I open the refrigerator and notice a bottle of Boone’s Farm Sangria. Kathy won’t mind, especially if I’m drinking it with Bryan. I chuckle. “How ’bout some cheap wine?”

“I’m game if you are.”

I pour two glasses and hand one to him. “To our band, Artemis.”

As we take the first sip, one of Kathy’s Siamese cats rubs against Bryan’s leg.

“Oh no you don’t! Scat!” I stomp my foot. “Sorry, I’m allergic. Let’s go to my room.” I lead him into my bedroom and turn on the stereo, adjusting the volume so we can talk.

“Cool set up.” He thumbs the strings of my guitar in its stand. “May I?”

“Sure.” I light a candle as he sits on a red milk crate and casually strums chords.

“Nice collection.” He nods toward a pile of Guitar Player magazines next to my dresser.

“I never miss an issue.” I grab the top copy and open it to an earmarked article I’ve read a hundred times. “Check this out. That’s Eddie Van Halen guest teaching a class at the Guitar Institute.”

“It’d be cool to learn a few tricks from Eddie, that’s for sure.”

“When I get there, I’ll have access to their network of other musicians and producers, too. Knowing the right people is even more important than knowing how to play. And LA is full of people who make things happen.” I watch Bryan’s fingers move across the neck of my guitar. He’s good. But I want to be better. And the Institute will push me to become my best. It’s the smartest way for me to get my songs on the charts.

He pauses and takes a sip of his wine. “When are you going to start?”

“January, maybe. But next fall is more realistic. Living in LA is expensive, so I’m saving every dime I can.” My mind drifts to a conversation I had with a student after my audition. He gave me some tips on how to survive when money is tight. I run my hand over my mattress. “Even if I have to sleep in the back of my truck and live on peanut butter and crackers, I’m going to do it.” Bryan’s eyes shift back to the fretboard. He must be sick of hearing about my LA dreams. I don’t want our first date to be our last. “So … what else is going on?”

“Wayne and Vicky went out tonight.” He smiles. “We like having two girls in the band.”

“Really? Well, maybe Vicky and I will start an all-girl band and leave you guys in the dust.”

“You better not.” He smiles, returns my guitar, and moves next to me on the bed.

I turn off the light. The glow from the stereo and the candle is more than enough. Over the next hour, we finish the bottle of wine. He’s so easy to talk to, and funny. But it’s his drive to make it in the music industry that really impresses me. He wants to find success as much as I do. I rest my head on my pillow, and he lies next to me. Our faces so close we breathe the same, sweet air. Slowly our lips meet, and my mouth tingles like it does after the first taste of a hot fudge sundae.

Noises come from the kitchen. “My roommate must be home.”

“Will she care if I’m here?”

“Not at all.” I turn up the music and return to his side. We kiss again. Our bodies connect perfectly like two pieces in a puzzle. He seems content exploring my lips with his, and I run my fingers through his curls and caress his neck. The fluttering in my belly intensifies.

A heavy thud in the living room, followed by sounds of a scuffle, interrupts the mood.

“What was that?” He sits up.

I listen at my door to arguing, pleading. Are Kat and Gabe fighting? “I’ll be right back.”

The moment I step into the hall, Kathy pulls me into the bathroom. “Gabe is in the living room with Ian. He’s drunk,” she whispers. “He was sitting outside your truck, without a coat. Drinking Jack Daniel’s. Shivering, sobbing, yelling,” she says. “He had blood all over his hands.”

“Blood?” My eyes widen. “From what?”

“He has a deep cut on his wrist. Says he doesn’t know how it got there.” She shakes her head. “I cleaned it and wrapped it with gauze. There’s no more bleeding.”

Drinking wine on an empty stomach is affecting my ability to think. “I’ll go talk to him.”

“No! He’s mad. He saw Bryan come inside with those flowers,” she whispers.

“She’s a liar!” Ian’s shrill, slurred words hit me like a punch in the face.

Kathy peeks into the living room and lets out a quick breath. “He’s trying to get into your room again.” Her expression tightens. “I need to help Gabe. You and Bryan should go.”

Still trying to wrap my mind around the situation, I nod. “Kat, I … I’m so sorry.”

“Not your fault.” She whizzes past me toward the living room.

I rush back to my room and blow out the candle. “We need to go. I’ll explain outside.” I grab Bryan’s hand, pulling him as if the house is on fire. We slip past Ian’s drunken rants seemingly undetected. We get into Bryan’s car, and I point down the road. “Let’s go. Please. Just drive.”

He pulls out of the driveway and accelerates. “What’s going on?”

“My ex-boyfriend is in the living room. He’s drunk. And angry.” My muscles tighten. “Kathy and Gabe found him outside my truck with blood all over his hands.”

He faces me with raised brows. “What happened?”

“I don’t know. But Kathy stopped the bleeding and bandaged him up.” I tell him about my chat with Ian. “He said he’d finish tomorrow and headed toward the bus stop. I didn’t know he was going to the liquor store. And I certainly didn’t think he’d come back tonight.” I snatch a cigarette from Bryan’s pack and light it, even though I don’t smoke. “I told him we were working on music, but he saw you come into the house with flowers.”

“Do you still have feelings for him?”

“No.” The nicotine gives me a head rush. Or maybe it’s the wine. She’s a liar, loops in my mind. “I broke up with him so I could focus on my goals. He knew you were coming over tonight, but I said we were working on music. I should’ve told him the truth.”

“If you broke up with him, he should respect your decision and leave you alone.”

I lean on Bryan’s shoulder as he drives. Content just being near him. Ian was jealous of my ambition, especially if that meant I’d go back to California. He’d deny it, but when we were together, it was all about partying. No time for practice or playing in a band. The total opposite of Bryan.

He drives to a 24-hour diner. We find a booth toward the back and order fries and chocolate shakes. He doesn’t ask about Ian or talk about what happened. Rather, he tells stories about his life. I relax, allowing him to take my mind off everything. I even laugh a few times.

Several hours pass, and he drives me home. “You want me to come in with you?”

“No, I’ll be okay.” I shake my head. “Thanks for everything. I’m sorry—”

He interrupts my words with a delicate kiss. Then another. And another. “Get some sleep,” he whispers as he squeezes my hand and smiles. “We have practice tomorrow.”

I step out into the cold and walk toward the door, then turn and wave as he waits for me to get inside. The night was far from what I imagined, but in spite of everything, it was still good.

When I get into the house, reality slaps me in the face. The Jack Daniel’s bottle, smeared with brown fingerprints, along with dirty paper towels, gauze, and scissors surround the orange daisies Bryan gave me. Kitchen chairs push against the wall. A note from Kathy, written with a thick, black marker is taped to the refrigerator. “We need to talk before I go to work tomorrow.”

Chapter 4

I shuffle into the kitchen after staying awake most of the night and pour a glass of orange juice. I’ve read Kathy’s note a hundred times, fearful last night’s drama was more than she bargained for. I love living here, and I cherish our friendship. We met when I was living with Ian. I had taken a job as a cocktail waitress at the Interlude, a seedy bar downtown. She showed me the ropes and became like a big sister to me. Our skimpy costumes made it easy to get tips. Really good tips. But it also invited men to grope and gawk. When the new manager took over, things got worse. He wanted the waitresses to flirt more with the customers, firing girls who didn’t, and pressuring those who couldn’t afford to lose their jobs. He was the definition of a scumbag, and Kathy and I had to get out. She got her bartending license, and I landed a job as a secretary. Those typing classes in high school paid off. And when I needed a place to stay, she didn’t hesitate to offer me a room at an unbeatable rate. We are bonded in friendship as we keep each other’s secrets, and she’s always been my biggest cheerleader.

“Morning,” Kathy says from the living room. “Come in here when you’re done.”

My stomach flips. I feel like I’ve been called to the principal’s office.

Her hair is wrapped in a towel like a soft-serve twist. She closes her magazine, and one of her cats jumps onto her lap. “Thanks for cleaning the kitchen.”

“It’s the least I could do.” I sit on the couch and clutch a throw pillow. “I’m so sorry, Kat.”

She shakes her head. “Don’t be. This isn’t your fault.”

“But your note. All caps with a big black marker? You’re not upset with me?”

“No! Gosh, I’m sorry.” She chuckles. “That marker was just the first thing I found.”

“What a relief.” I lean back onto the cushion. “Okay then. So, what happened after we left?”

“Ian spent a lot of time in the bathroom.” Kathy wrinkles her nose. “I called his sister, and it took all three of us to get him into her car.”

I imagine the scene, and my shoulders droop. “I should’ve told him the truth,” I whisper.

“Maybe. But you don’t owe him any explanations. You broke up with him. You’re free to do whatever you want. He needs to deal with it. End of story.”

A heavy sigh escapes. Maybe she’s right. As awful as it was, maybe now he can finally accept that it’s over. I just hate that it got so ugly. I sigh again.

“Now tell me what’s going on with Bryan.” She nudges my leg with her painted toes.

I inhale, smile, and lean close, like a sixth grader telling a secret. “He’s a really good kisser.”

“I knew it was just a matter of time. You’re glowing.” Kathy smiles. “Now spill everything.”

I tell her every detail, starting from our first kiss after practice. Reliving it all makes me feel like I’m floating on a river on a lazy summer day. My mouth hurts from smiling so much, and my abs feel tight from the constant fluttering. “Kat, is it possible to fall in love this fast?”

The phone in my bedroom rings.

“Go. That’s probably him.” She points to my room. “I need to get ready for work anyway.”

I sprint to my room, shut the door, and answer. A heavy sigh escapes as I hear my sister, Lisa’s voice. She lives in Alaska and only calls on weekends when the long-distance rates are cheaper. Neither of us can afford to call often, so normally it’s a treat. But I’m not ready to talk to her now. She became a Christian ten years ago. Started carrying her Bible everywhere, quoting verses, going to church all the time. I was too young to understand what my family meant when they said, “she went off the deep end.” But every time I saw her, she’d talk about God, and I’d listen. That next summer I said the sinner’s prayer at Vacation Bible School, but I didn’t want anyone thinking I went off the deep end, too, so I kept it to myself.

We swap small talk, but my thoughts are fixed on Bryan, so I tell her about him.

“How long has it been since you broke up with Ian?” Lisa says.

“Over six months now. I knew he wasn’t the one.”

“Yet you moved in with him?”

“I didn’t have many choices.”

“You could’ve moved in with Mom and Dad.”

“At a retirement village in Florida? Really? I was 18, and there was no kind of music scene anywhere near their house.” I scoff. “Seriously.”

“So, are you sleeping with this guitar player now?” She’s always been blunt.

“No.” My jaw tightens. “And his name is Bryan.”

“What safeguards are you putting into place to make sure you don’t?”

“I admit, I like him a lot. He’s funny, and sweet, and we share the same goals. But we’re not gonna do that. Our relationship is based on music. Plus, he’s a gentleman.”

“Oh, darlin’.” Lisa laughs. “A solid relationship is built on more than physical attraction or mutual interests. Go to that church I told you about. You can meet a man who’s willing to build a relationship on biblical truths. You should go tomorrow.”

“It starts, like, at ten o’clock. I have practice tonight, and I’ll be home late.” I groan. “Plus, I can’t imagine being attracted to any church guy. They’re just … odd.”

“There are good ones, too, but you’ll never meet one unless you go and check it out.”

“I doubt any would be interested in me or my music.”

Lisa sighs. “I can’t force you to go. But you need to come up with a plan to avoid physical intimacy with this guitar player. If something happens, you’ll regret it.”

My head aches. Even though she’s 17 years older than I am, I wish she’d stop acting like she’s my mom and just be my sister. “Look, I’m living with Kathy now. And Bryan still lives with his parents. He graduated last spring, but he’s more mature than most guys I know.”

“Sounds like you’re really attracted to this, um, Bryan. That makes it easy to justify your feelings and let things go too far. God designed sex for a husband and wife to enjoy. But when you act before marriage, it distorts the beauty of God’s gift.”

The conversation drains me. “I’ll think about it, I promise.”

“I love you, little sister, that’s why I’m telling you these things. I don’t want you to make the same mistakes I did. And I know Mom and Dad won’t talk to you about any of this.”

We say our goodbyes, and I plop onto my bed. I notice my Bible in a crate among some notebooks. I fish it out and open the front cover. Presented to Julia, from your sister & friend, Lisa, February 1985. She refused to come into the apartment I shared with Ian that day, but stood outside my door, preaching against my sinful lifestyle. My body trembled as her words pummeled my soul. By the time she left, I felt like an outcast. Unworthy. Rejected.

I had wanted to save my virginity until I was married, but things got heated with my boyfriend on my sixteenth birthday. After we broke up, I regretted what we did and told myself I’d never do it again. But the pattern repeated with my next boyfriend. And the next. After I turned 18 and moved to California, it seemed pointless to hold back anymore. My virginity was long gone.

I set the Bible on top of the crate and think about Lisa’s concerns. Sure. Something could happen with Bryan. And if I’m honest, part of me wants it to. But who knows? Maybe we’ll never break up. Maybe we’ll always play in a band together. Maybe even get married someday. All these thoughts excite me. Energize me. But for now, I just need to avoid being alone with him. Music only. I can do this. I think.

Chapter 5

Thanksgiving Day – Port St. Lucie, Florida

I sit on a floral-cushioned loveseat in my parents’ sunroom, sipping a tall glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice. When they offered to pay for my flight down here, I couldn’t resist. “This is delicious. Thanks, Mama.”

“I’m happy to make it for you.”

My parents hold hands over the glass-top table. They’ve been married for 38 years but still act like newlyweds.

“C-R-A-Z-Y. That’s 3 + 1 + 1 + 10 + 8. Triple word score. 69 points. How do you like that, Iris?” Dad dances in his chair and throws a handful of unsalted nuts into his mouth. The past few years have been rough on him. High blood pressure, diabetes, and then melanoma. They caught the cancer early, but the surgeries left him weaker, unable to tolerate Michigan winters. His early retirement and move to Florida seem to have given him a new lease on life.

Mom places three tiles onto the board and counts her points. “Jump, 31.”

Dad leans close as Mom tallies her score. “Oh man, Ma! You’re back in the lead.”

I love them so much, but deep inside an unresolved pain lingers. They moved so fast while I was in California, reducing my possessions to six boxes they left in my brother’s attic. As if they wanted to slip out of town before I changed my mind and wanted to come home. I shake the thought from my mind, as I have dozens of times before. They don’t know how vulnerable I was. If they knew the truth, it’d crush them.

“So, how’s your job?” Mom says.

“It’s fine, but I’m more excited about my band. We’re playing at a huge party next weekend. Our first paid gig.”

“Don’t let it affect your job. You can retire with a pension if you keep working there.”

“Daddy, you know that’s not what I want. I’m gonna make it in the music industry, or I’ll die trying. I’d hate to be a secretary for the rest of my life.”

“Good jobs don’t grow on trees—”

“Ray.” Mom touches Dad’s arm and smiles at me. “We just want you to be happy.”

“I’ll be happy when my songs play on the radio.” A sigh escapes. They didn’t support my goal to pursue my musical dreams in LA. They said it was foolish. That the odds of getting discovered were slim to none. But they couldn’t stop me once I turned 18. Granted, California wasn’t exactly how I envisioned it, but I’ve learned a lot over these past two years, and now I have a better strategy. I’ve been accepted to the Guitar Institute, and I know what to expect. Will they ever understand I’m only working as a secretary until I save enough money to go back to LA?

“We worry about you being all alone up there,” Mom says. “Any special fellas in your life?”

“If that Ian’s still in the picture, I don’t want to hear it.” Dad keeps his eyes on the game. He never approved of my dating a 23-year-old man with long hair. But that didn’t stop me. I fluttered in and out of the house as I pleased, ignoring my parents’ rules. Stumbling home long after curfew, sometimes even the next day. No wonder they were eager to move to Florida.

I shake my head. “Don’t worry, he’s history.”

“Good.” Dad nods as he smirks.

“But there is someone.” Heat rushes to my face as I tell them about Bryan. Mom seems interested until the timer goes off for the turkey, then she rushes into the kitchen to make gravy. Dad gives me an occasional “oh yeah?” as I ramble on but doesn’t seem too interested. They’ve settled into a new rhythm, have new friends, new interests. They’re in their sixties. I don’t fit in here.

After we clean up from the delicious meal and eat some pecan pie, I tiptoe back to the sunroom while they nod off in front of the television. A warm breeze moves the wind chimes, producing a calming harmony. I absorb the peaceful moment, thinking about the past three weeks in Michigan. We’ve practiced a lot of extra hours to prepare for the party, and we’re ready. We’ve worked hard to achieve something greater than we can ever do on our own. I’m glad I was able to spend Thanksgiving here, but I’m ready to leave this pastel-colored retirement village. I miss my band. And I really miss Bryan.

***

My flight arrives in Detroit Saturday afternoon. The overcast sky contrasts with the Florida sun, reminiscent of my return from California two years ago. I never thought I’d be in Michigan this long, but if Artemis gains traction in the local music scene, it’ll redeem the time I wasted.

I call Bryan the minute I get home. It’s good to hear his voice as we catch up.

“Hey, got some bad news. Wayne canceled practice tonight. Said Vicky’s grandma wants to meet him, and she’s only in town until tomorrow.”

“What? I came home today so I wouldn’t miss it.” I collapse onto my bed. “He’s the one who said we can’t miss any rehearsals before the party.”

“I know. It’s weird.” He pauses. “Want me to see if Danny can meet us at the Colonial?”

“Great idea!” We practice at the old motel when the studio is booked. The manager lives above the office. He used to play drums in a jazz band in the 60s, so he understands. He always gives us Room 11, the last room on the ground floor. He doesn’t care what we do, as long as we don’t disturb other guests. It’s a perfect solution.

***

Bryan, Danny, and I practice each song we’ll play at the party, then jam the rest of our set. There’s no pressure, it just feels like old friends having a good time.

Danny looks at his watch. “I told Jason we’d finish here before midnight. It’s 12:15.”

“Who’s Jason?” I grab another Diet Coke from the mini fridge.

“A friend with a stack of cool VCR movies and beer. He won’t mind if you guys show up.” Danny turns off his amp and packs his gear.

“Come on, Danny.” I lift my arms. “We’re just getting warmed up.”

“I’m done. Time to drink some brew.” He puts on his jacket. “You guys coming?”

“I’m not in the mood to watch a movie,” I say as I strum my guitar softly.

“I’ll pass, too, man. But thanks.” Bryan bumps Danny’s fist.

“Kay. Later.” Danny disappears, and the atmosphere shifts, just like that.

I told myself I’d leave when rehearsal was over. What made me think coming here was a good idea? Being here alone with Bryan is like being surrounded by fresh-baked cookies when I’m on a diet. I need to think. I take a large gulp of pop, hoping the caffeine will kick in. My early flight out of Palm Beach this morning seems like it was days ago.

Bryan pops open a can of Coke. “Want to go over the set one more time?”

“No, I should go, too. I’ve been up since five this morning. And—”

He interrupts my words with a delicate kiss. “Sorry, I’ve wanted to do that all night.”

If it weren’t for the guitars strapped around our necks, I’d melt into his arms.

He puts his into its case and points to the bathroom. “Be right back.”

I turn off my amp, put my guitar away, and scramble to gather my things. Every alert in my head screams DANGER! This is exactly what Lisa warned me about. How can I be such a fool?

But it’s Thanksgiving weekend. I have nowhere to be, no need to rush off.

I sit at the table, bouncing my gaze from one door to the other. I grab cherry ChapStick from my purse and smear it on my lips, pop a stick of mint gum into my mouth, and pinch my cheeks to add color. The water runs inside the bathroom, and my pulse increases as he walks over.

“Hey, I … I know it’s late. You’ve had a long day, and I understand if you need to go.” He moves his chair next to mine. “But I have a confession to make.”

“Oh? What is it?”

He kisses my hand, and whispers, “I don’t want you to go.”

My mouth floods with moisture. “That’s good.” I swallow. “Because I don’t want to leave.”

“I have another confession to make.” He caresses my arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps.

It takes all my willpower to resist kissing him. “Okay,” I whisper. “Tell me.”

“I’ll never forget the first time you came to practice. Your blonde hair, tight jeans, and that smile.” He gulps. “But from the moment you started jamming, I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” He pauses. “I love you, Julia. Since that first day we met.”

My stomach flutters. His words confirm what he’s shown me all along. I feel it when he looks into my eyes. With every caring word he says. “I love you, too.”

We’ve both hid our true feelings for too long, and the floodgates of affection burst open. We drift toward one another, our chemistry tangible. Every kiss, every touch, filled with loving tenderness. Our hunger for one another increases until nothing can stop it.

Outside the bitter wind howls. But the affection we share inside grows warm. Intensely warm. Until every overdue craving is satisfied.

***

I lay on my side on the bed, staring at the wood paneling. Bryan kisses my shoulder and rests his head on my pillow. Nothing will ever be the same. The predictable guilt creeps into my thoughts. I failed. I wasn’t strong enough. I rally the courage to gather my clothes and run into the bathroom. My bloodshot eyes, contrasting with green irises, reflect an eerie appearance in the dingy mirror. I hear Lisa’s words of disapproval in my head and begin to cry. I turn on the shower, hoping it will cover my sniffles and clear my mind.

As the warm water pours on my skin, I try to relax. No one is perfect, not even Lisa. That’s why Jesus died on the cross. Lisa reminds me of this all the time. Belief is the key, and I believe wholeheartedly. Bryan’s a good person. We share a love for music and now, for one another. I push thoughts about my sister from my mind as I turn off the water. I get dressed, take a deep breath, and open the door.

Bryan sits on the bed, wearing his jeans. He stands as I walk toward him. “Are you okay?”

I rest my head on his shoulder and wrap my arms around him. The faded scent of his cologne mixed with sweat affirms the new level in our relationship. “I am now.”

He whispers into my ear, “Tonight was incredible. All of it. I love you.”

Concern fights its way back into my mind as I utter a silent prayer. Lord, please forgive me for being so weak.

Chapter 6

I enter the studio wearing extra eyeliner, brown eye shadow and my new, dark lipstick. My black, V-neck fits snugly. I like the way it contrasts with my blonde hair. Curled, teased, and sprayed.

Vicky wears fingerless, black-laced gloves and at least seven necklaces around her neck. “I had strawberries and lemon tea this morning. Heard that singing on an empty stomach helps.” She holds out her hand. “Can you tell I’m shaking?”

I steady her arm. “No, I can’t tell. And you look amazing.”

“Hi,” Bryan says as he eyes me from head to toe and slips his hands around my waist. I adjust the bandana on his head and give him a quick kiss.

“Load the amps and monitors into Julia’s truck. Drums go in my van.” Wayne barks orders as he disassembles his set. “Grab a copy of the song list. It’s the same order we practiced all week.”

Each of us wears various expressions of black and silver, and together we look like an official rock & roll band. We’re ready. Five bands are scheduled to play. Artemis will be third.

We arrive at the VFW hall and stack our equipment in the corner behind the make-shift stage. Not many people are here when the first act begins, but more continue to trickle in. After the second band finishes their performance, they tear down as we set up. The audience appears patient; ten dollars to see five bands and drink beer until the taps run dry is a pretty good deal.

I get my bearings on the small stage, then shift my focus to the others until each of us stands ready. Wayne taps his sticks four times and we burst into song. My nervousness disappears as I lose myself in the sound of our amplified music, the drums vibrating inside my chest, adrenaline surging through my body. Three stage lights make it difficult to see anything more than silhouettes in the audience, but I feel a positive vibe from the crowd.

After we finish our first song, the audience cheers, and Vicky seems to loosen up. “Wow, how’s everyone doing tonight?” More cheers and a few cat calls. “We are Artemis.” She waves her hand toward me. “Julia Sebastian on guitar.”

I play a power chord, letting it ring as I give a thumbs up. A couple cameras flash, and Vicky introduces the rest of the band. Whistles and cheers rise above the scent of spilled beer as we continue our set. Like the intricate pieces of a clock, each instrument works together to produce the music filling every square inch of the hall. Our hard work has paid off. This is what I live for.

Within twenty minutes, we play our final note. The stage lights darken, and we haul our equipment off as the next act sets up. Once we finish moving all our gear, I hug Bryan and release a huge breath. “I think I’ll have some beer tonight!”

Some guy with eyeliner and spiked-leather bracelets, most likely from one of the upcoming bands, pulls Wayne into a conversation. Danny zips through the dense crowd making his way to the kegs. Vicky, Bryan, and I follow close behind. Accolades from bystanders confirm a well-received performance. I can’t get this smile off my face.

***

By the time the final band is set up, the place is packed. Standing room only except for an occasional intoxicated stumble. Bryan and I have lost sight of the others. Fog billows from the stage, followed by a shattering guitar solo. Loud and fast, the final band is by far the most theatrical, complete with die-hard fans crowding the front rows near the stage. They play a high-energy, 45-minute set.

The lights come on and the crowd disburses. Wayne comes over. “I got my drums into the van, but the rest still needs to be loaded.”

“Where’s Danny?” Bryan says.

“Haven’t seen him.” Wayne pulls keys from his pocket and hands them to Bryan. “This will get you into the studio. I’ll be there later.”

Bryan and I make our way backstage. Together we load the equipment into my truck, chatting and laughing about the party. Then we ride back to the studio.

We arrive before the others and step into the pristine, snow-covered parking lot. A single streetlight illuminates the huge snowflakes as they glisten and float to the ground. A magical, peaceful scene. I lift my chin to the quiet sky. Quite a contrast to our high-energy performance a few hours earlier. “It feels like we’re inside a snow globe!”

Bryan wraps his arms around me. “You were great tonight.”

“We were great tonight.” I kiss him. “And we’re on our way to playing bigger venues.”

“Bigger than the $150 we earned?”

“Much bigger.” Smiling, I tilt my head back again, enjoying the feel of snowflakes on my face and Bryan’s warm kisses on my neck. I inhale the crisp air, and images of people cheering in the crowd flash in my mind. It’s been a good night, and it’s only the beginning.

Headlights shine in my eyes as a vehicle pulls into the parking lot.

“Alright, break it up you two,” Danny says as he jumps out of his car. “Sorry I didn’t help pack up. Where’s Wayne?”

“Maybe they stopped at a drive-through. Vicky wanted to keep her stomach empty before the show, she’s probably starving by now,” I say.

Danny scoffs. “He hasn’t been around Vicky since we got off stage.”

I narrow my eyes. “So, where is she?”

Turning his head toward her snow-covered car, Danny shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“Let’s get my truck unloaded, then we can go back and find them both.” I unlock the topper and open the tailgate. I felt a few patches of ice on the way here. I hope they’re both okay.

Within minutes, we have everything back in the studio. Vicky bursts in, brushing snow from her hair. Her face is red. “Where’s Wayne?”

“No one seems to know,” Bryan says.

“Glad I didn’t wait longer.” Her nostrils flare. “For all I care, he can be stuck in a ditch.”

I put my hand on Vicky’s shoulder. “Hey, what’s going on?”

“Didn’t you see him? He ignored me all night. He was too busy flirting with that airhead.”

“Airhead? What are you talking about?”

“The one with the leopard skin pants and spike heels. He’s been hanging out with those groupies from the last band all night.” Vicky’s mascara is smeared, her eyes bloodshot.

“Do you have a key for the office?” Danny says to Bryan. “I’ll call Wayne’s house.”

Bryan throws him the keys.

“He should’ve driven me back here to get my car,” Vicky snaps. “I had to hitch a ride.”

“I’m sorry. I thought you were with him. We should’ve tried harder to find you,” I say.

“If this is the way he is, whatever. I’m not gonna waste my time with him.”

“No, Vicky, please! We’ll never find another singer like you,” I say.

Vicky’s posture straightens as she smiles. “Don’t worry, he can’t take me away from Artemis. Tonight was radical. But if he wants to flirt with other chicks, that’s his loss.”

“I totally agree.” I let out a sigh. “You were fantastic, Vicky. You’re a natural on stage.”

Danny returns from the office with a disconcerted look on his face. “Umm. Wayne’s van is at his house, still filled with his drums. His roommate said he went to the after-show party.”

“With the airhead, I bet. I’m done waiting.” Vicky heads toward the door. “If you see Wayne tonight, tell him I said thanks for the ride.”

The sound of Vicky’s heals clicking as she walks away makes my stomach tighten. The night had been so perfect. Oh, Wayne, what are you doing?

“So, how do we find the after-show party?” Danny says with a six-pack under his arm.

I pinch my lips together into a forced smile and shrug. “I don’t think we were invited.”

Chapter 7

With Christmas falling on Wednesday, I only had to take three vacation days to get a full week off. My plan was to spend the entire time with my brothers and their families on the other side of the state, but I cut my visit short. Something just didn’t seem right this year. I felt out of place, like a third wheel. Mom and Dad stayed in Florida, and it’s been years since Lisa’s been home for Christmas. Flights from Alaska aren’t cheap, she says, and she’d rather visit in the summer.

My brothers are the only family I have left here in Michigan. They were teenagers when I was born, and they were the epitome of everything I hoped to be someday. I’d slip into their room and listen to the music blaring through the speakers of their “hi-fi” stereo system. A massive album collection squeezed tightly below the turntable, like the pages of a picture book. I’d study the colorful images on the covers, captivated by the funny characters in strange outfits. Just one whiff of dusty vinyl always brings me back to those days. I pestered my brothers with questions, What’s the name of that band? What’s the name of this song? When they got fed up, they tease me until I was in tears, and I’d seek refuge in the living room where my parents sat watching the television that always seemed to be on. By the time I was six, I was the only kid left in the house and probably the only one in first grade who knew the difference between the Stones, the Beatles, and Led Zeppelin. When my brothers came home for the holidays, the beautiful chaos returned. Joking, laughing, eating. Sometimes Dad would set up the screen so we could watch old home movies of younger versions of my siblings playing leapfrog and making silly faces into the camera. It looked like they were having so much fun. The black & white footage lasted for hours, then Dad would change the reel to a newer, color movie with some video of me sitting on the floor surrounded by toys. No siblings to play with, just toys.

Mom always said I was a wonderful surprise. But no matter what, it seems I’ll never really fit in. I’ll always be a season behind.

I drive three hours east on I-96, exit onto Telegraph Road, and make my way to Bryan’s. Most of the houses on his street have Christmas lights, at least around the windows. I slow my truck as I approach his driveway, but his car is not here. Maybe I should go to the door and say hi to his mom or his little brother. I let out a sigh. That’s not quite what I had in mind.

Another quick detour takes me through downtown Detroit. It’s out of the way, but I enjoy all the lights and decorations. “Do They Know It’s Christmas” plays on the radio, and I increase the volume and sing along at the top of my lungs. I need to make it in the music industry. 1986 will be the year everything changes. I can feel it in my bones.

Chapter 8

The new year marks a new beginning. I yearn to get back to practice like parched grass yearns for rain. I don’t want to lose any more momentum than we already did with this long break.

When I get out of the shower, three messages wait on my answering machine.

“Hey Julia, it’s Wayne. Call me when you get this. Later.” Weird. Wayne never calls me.

The second message is Bryan. “We need to talk. Call me.” There’s urgency in his voice. Abrasive, like he’s angry. I don’t like it.

The third message is Bryan again. “Practice is canceled. Wayne quit. He’s the new drummer for Caged Rage. I’m heading to your house now.”

I replay all three messages. This can’t be right. Caged Rage was the final band at the party. Why would they want Wayne? I punch his number into my phone.

“Hello,” he answers with an upbeat tone.

“Please tell me you’re not quitting our band.”

“Hey, Julia. Yeah, you heard right.”

“Now? After we finally find the right singer? After we play at a party and people love us? What the heck is going on?” Heat rushes throughout my body.

“Let me explain,” he says. “The bassist from Caged Rage approached me after we got off stage. Said they liked my style and wanted me to stick around so we could talk.”

Of course. The after-show party. “Guess that explains why you left us hanging.”

“Look, I’m sorry. The opportunity dropped in my lap. It took most of the night for them to explain their situation and make the offer.”

“So, what’s their situation?”

“They have a tour to warm up for Anarchy with gigs booked in Toledo, Chicago, Milwaukee, and a bunch of other places along the way. Eight weeks on the road.”

I’ve heard Anarchy on the radio. This is a huge opportunity, even though I struggle picturing Wayne with eyeliner and teased hair. “But why is Caged Rage replacing their drummer?”

“The party was his last show for a while. His girlfriend just had a baby, and he doesn’t want to go on this tour. They need someone right away.”

“For a while? Does that mean this is temporary? Like we can wait until you’re back?”

“They’re not gonna want him back after he bailed at the last minute,” he says.

“So, that’s it? You’re done with us and moving on?”

“We leave in February. That’s less than a month to learn the songs and be ready for the road.” He sighs. “Tell me you wouldn’t jump on this if you were me. I know you, Julia. You’d go.”

His words sting. But he’s right, I would go. “Just remember us when you make it big, okay?”

“Find another drummer,” Wayne’s tone softens, “and we’ll both get there.”

***

Twenty minutes later, I open the door for Bryan. His lips are pinched as he exhales a long stream of smoke and extinguishes his cigarette in the snow. “You heard my messages?”

“Yeah. I called Wayne, and he told me everything.” I frown. “What are we gonna do?”

“I don’t know.” Bryan paces the kitchen. “We don’t have a band, Julia. Drummers are even harder to find than singers.”

“Yeah.” I step to the window. Tree limbs whip back and forth in response to a gusty wind. Damp hair on my shoulders sends a chill to my core. “Maybe it’s time to go to LA.”

“Now?”

“Yes.” I rush to him and grab both his hands. “Let’s go. Just you and me.”

“I’ve thought about it a lot since we met.”

My eyes widen. “Really?”

“Yeah, but I don’t have a wad of money stashed somewhere, do you?”

“Where there’s a will, there’s a way.” My energy surges. “One year of intense study in the heart of where everything happens. Can you imagine the opportunities we’ll have?”

Bryan sits at the table, leans back, and crosses his arms.

“If we go together, we can split the cost for a studio apartment, most of our time will be in school, anyway. We can drive there in my truck, and if worse comes to worst, we can sleep in the back until we find a place. Whatever it takes.”

“We need a better plan than living in the back of your truck with a jar of peanut butter.”

I flop into a kitchen chair, slowly releasing air along with my plan. “What then?”

“We can place an ad for a drummer in the newspaper. Put up flyers at all the music stores.” He shakes his head. “I know this isn’t LA, but we can’t give up now.”

“It’ll take a lot more than this to make me give up my dreams.”

Chapter 9

It’s Sunday morning, and I stay in bed past noon. My thoughts loop like ramps on a busy interstate. My stomach growls. Maybe food will help me think more clearly. I plod to the kitchen.

“Want some grilled cheese and tomato soup?” Kathy tosses bread onto the counter.

“Sounds perfect.” I plop a glob of tomato into a pan, add water, and stir. Within minutes, I fill steaming soup into bowls, and Kathy flips grilled cheese sandwiches onto plates. We dig into our feast, and I tell her about Wayne. “I asked Bryan to go to California. But he wants to stay and find another drummer.” I exhale. “He doesn’t realize all the opportunities we’re missing in LA.”

“Then convince him to go.” Kathy shrugs. “Or find another drummer.” She sighs. She seems preoccupied with something. “Either way, do what you need to do. Don’t live with regrets.”

“Seems I’ll regret something either way.” I chuckle. “I broke up with Ian to focus on my music, then I go and fall in love with Bryan. What was I thinking?”

“Love doesn’t always think.” Kathy nods. “But if anyone can figure this out, it’s you.”

I mop the last of my soup with my final bite of grilled cheese and squint at the newspaper in front of me. “Wait. Bryan wants to place an ad looking for a drummer. But what if a drummer already placed an ad looking for a band?”

“See? I told you you’d figure it out.” She stacks our dishes. “I’ll clean up.”

“Thanks, Kat.” Opening to the classified section, I run my finger down the Musicians & Entertainers column and stop on an ad. “Seeking female musicians to record and perform original songs.” I tap my finger, then continue to the end of the column and sigh. No drummers seeking bands.

I shuffle into the bathroom and run water in the tub, pouring a generous amount of Calgon under the faucet. Bubbles multiply as I pull my hair into a ponytail and undress. As I soak, I think about the ad for female musicians. I’ve always wanted to be in an all-girl band. But that leaves Bryan out of the equation. No, I can’t do that.

As I continue to soak, more bubbles dissolve.

It’s probably some young girls trying to mimic the Go-go’s or something. Maybe I should just call the number. Then I’ll know it’s nothing and get the idea out of my head.

The bath grows cold, so I pull the plug, dry off, and get dressed. The water gurgles down the drain, and I realize if I don’t call, it’ll haunt me until I do. Before I conjure another excuse, I go into my room and dial the number. “Hi. I’m calling about the ad for female musicians.”

“Yes, this is Travis.”

I hesitate. “Travis? Umm, I assumed the ad was placed by a female.”

He chuckles. “I’m trying something experimental. I’m forming an all-girl band with me as the lead singer. What instrument do you play?”

“Interesting. I play guitar.” I tell him about Artemis, my equipment, and my goals. I discover he’s a producer who has published several records and boasts of his many ties in the music industry.

“I’ve put in my dues. I’m on the verge of something big.” He speaks with confidence. “My manager is also an A&R Rep, and he’s shopping my songs to several labels right now. I need to act fast to get the right people in place.”

My ears perk. “Wow. Who’s representing you?”

“He’s out of Nashville. Look, it sounds like you have enough experience to audition. Let’s meet in person, and I’ll show you the songs I’m working on.”

Impressed with his drive, and especially interested in his connections, I arrange to meet him next Saturday. But as soon as I hang up the phone, I second-guess myself. Am I being disloyal to Artemis? And what about Bryan?

I decide to keep the call to myself until I see what this Travis guy is all about.

Chapter 10

Wayne’s uncle has agreed to let our band practice at the studio; I think he feels sorry for us. We meet there the following Tuesday, sans Wayne, and play the five songs we performed at the party.

“Alright, that sounded great. Vicky, you ready to learn a new one?” Bryan says.

Vicky sits on the empty platform that once occupied Wayne’s drums. “Is it just me? Or does it seem strange playing without a drummer?”

“It’s not just you,” Danny says. “Happy for Wayne, sucks for us.”

Vicky continues. “Don’t get me wrong. You guys sound great. But … I don’t know.”

“I get it. It was a harsh blow. But we can’t let it break up our band,” I say.

“Yeah, come on guys. We need to stick together.” Bryan sits next to Vicky. “Our first ad runs this weekend. We have flyers in three music stores. We can’t give up.”

“Not giving up, dude. Let’s just wait on practice until we find someone,” Danny says.

“Vicky needs to learn the rest of our songs.” I look from one face to the next. “Then we’ll only have to focus on getting the new drummer up to speed.”

Bryan nods. “I agree.”

“Think about our performance. We did great, especially for our first gig.” I shake my head. “I don’t want to lose everything we’ve worked for. I’m tired of setbacks.”

“The party was amazing, and I want to perform again. But what if we can’t find another drummer?” Vicky says.

“My thoughts, exactly,” Danny says. “No sense wasting time if we don’t find someone.”

An impasse. Two against two. I turn off my amplifier. “No one should feel pressured to be here. When we find a drummer, I hope you’re all still available.”

“I said I’m in. Just let me know,” Danny says as he puts his bass away.

“Me, too.” Vicky snaps her gum. “It’s not like I’m looking for another band or anything.”

I swallow hard as I turn away and place my guitar into its case.

Once Danny packs his gear, he walks out with Vicky, leaving Bryan and me alone in the studio, with Wayne’s uncle in his office.

“I really thought tonight would go better.” Bryan shakes his head as he packs his gear.

“At least they didn’t quit. Five songs are better than nothing,” I say. “No matter what happens, we can’t give up on our dreams.”

“I know.” He nods. “That’s why I requested extra hours at work. Stashing some overtime will keep more options open.”

My lips part, then close. Is he beginning to see the appeal of moving to LA?

Chapter 11

I play my acoustic guitar in the living room, waiting for Travis to arrive. Kathy must’ve spent the night at Gabe’s, so I’m a little leery to invite Travis in. But as they say, “No guts, no glory.” The doorbell rings. I take a quick breath, lean my guitar on the couch, and open the door. “Travis?”

“That’s me.” His brown eyes smile, and rosy cheeks peek from under a closely trimmed beard. A few blonde streaks in his chestnut-colored hair make it look like he just stepped out of a salon. He’s probably used to getting attention, but he’s not my type. Too clean-cut, too preppie.

“Come on in. My equipment’s in my room.” I grab my guitar and motion for him to follow. “It’s a little cramped. You can sit on the bed.”

“You sounded good from the porch. Can you play me one of your original songs?”

“I’d love to.” Now that he’s no longer a mystery, I’m able to relax. He’s just a guy. I connect my guitar to the amp, click on my overdrive pedal, and play my latest creation.

“You have great rhythm. I like your style.”

“Thanks. I can play one of my band’s cover tunes if you want. It’s more complex.”

“No need. I can see you know how to play. And if you want to get signed, you need to stay focused on your original songs.”

“Exactly. Most people don’t get that.” His perspective refreshes me, but I need to play it cool. “Tell me about your A&R rep. It must be exciting to have him shopping your songs to labels.”

Travis stands and motions to take my guitar. “I can show you a couple songs now.”

I hesitate, and then I hand it to him. Guess he didn’t want to answer my question.

His vocals are strong. He segues one song into another. And another. Then he plays the final chord and smiles. None of his songs will be hard to learn. “That gives you a sampling of my music.”

“They’re very good, but, personally, I prefer heavier rock music.”

“Me, too, but my contacts are looking for Top-40/rock. So that’s what I’m writing.”

I wonder if Travis is selling himself short. And I wonder what his agent might think of my music. Either way, I need to find a way to meet him. “So, how did you find this guy?”

Travis wags his finger. “Nice try. I don’t share that information with strangers.”

I lean closer and smile. “Well, I don’t allow strangers to play my guitar.”

“This is a nice instrument you have here.” He turns it over, inspecting the high-polished body and the dark wooden neck before handing it back to me.

“So, what exactly are you looking for? Have you found any others?”

“I have a guitarist who’s eager to play. She’s younger and less experienced, but she has a good look. I eliminated a drummer earlier this week. And I’m meeting an all-girl band tomorrow.”

“Wow. I didn’t realize there were so many female musicians in the area.”

“What about you? You interested? Or are you still trying to keep your cover band alive?”

“Until we find a drummer, I plan to keep our songs polished with the other guitarist.”

“If you’re playing covers, you’re wasting your time. Music’s a business. I track all the trends and adapt my writing to match. And my latest batch of songs is what record companies are looking for now. All I need are the right musicians, and things will move quickly.”

A fork in the road. I can walk away and wonder what might’ve happened, or I can step onto an unknown path and take a chance. “I’ve always wanted to work with female musicians. If you’re looking for a motivated guitarist. Here I am.”

Travis nods as his eyes search mine, as if he’s trying to read my thoughts. “My photographer and I are meeting that band tomorrow. I’d like your opinion on their talent. Can you join us?”

I gulp a breath and lift my chin. “Sure. I can do that. Should I bring my gear?”

“No. This is only to meet and listen.” Travis points to my Bible on the milk crate. I hadn’t touched it since my last conversation with Lisa. “Are you a Christian?”

No one has ever asked me that question before. “Um … yeah. I am. Are you?”

“Yes.” He nods. “Well, nice meeting you. I’ll pick you up at one o’clock tomorrow.”

I walk him to the door and watch through the sheer curtains as he gets into a newer, four-door Cutlass. I can learn a lot about the business side of music from this guy. And there’s no harm in helping him get an all-girl band together as I do. I haven’t promised him anything. I’m just stepping forward until it’s obvious which path I should follow.

Hmph. So, he’s a Christian? I never imagined meeting a guy like that at church.

*** End of Sample Chapters ***

Are you enjoying it so far? (I hope so!)

If you want to find out what happens next, please help me get this book published! Invite others to read these pages, to subscribe to my newsletter, and to engage with me on social media.

Click here to subscribe to my newsletter: https://www.loisalan.com/contact/

Click here to connect with me on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/loisalanwriter

Click here to connect with me on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/lois_alan_writer/

Click here to listen to some of Julia’s songs: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCxxIw4dtC8sO0qIdXJ6mndw

Caution! Regarding the novel My Name is Julia

Content Warning: This book is intended for a Mature Audience. It contains animal cruelty/animal death, criminal court and jail, criminal sexual conduct, drug & underage alcohol use, gaslighting, infertility, narcissistic behavior, potentially offensive language, physical injuries, and self-harm.

Trigger Warning: This book includes domestic abuse & violence, including spiritual, emotional, physical, & verbal abuse.

Thank you for your support! 😊