Coachella

Grace settled in surprisingly easily, and i have to think that it was a combination of her treading softly because of some degree of insecurity in her situation and partly because she was just an agreeable kid.

Of course Emmy loved having Grace around, alleviating any worries that Grace might have had that she was unwelcome. Emmy doted on the girl, Buying her clothes, things for her room, and so on. It wasn’t just material goods, though- Grace often attended Downfall rehearsals after school hours, too.

At home, Emmy had suggested an allowance, which hadn’t actually occurred to me.

“What chores did you do at home?” I asked, trying to gauge what she was used to.

“I did the dishes every night and vacuumed twice a week, and took out the trash,” Grace answered.

“And how much allowance did your parents give you?”

“I got ten bucks a week,” she said, looking hopeful. This made me think she’d underreported the work and over reported the money, but that’s O.K. with me.

“All right. How’s this. You do the dishes and take out the trash, keep your room and bath clean and I’ll give you fifty dollars a week. Keep your grades up and it’ll be a hundred.”

“Are you kidding?” Grace asked, wide-eyed. “A hundred dollars a week?”

“Sure,” I said. “But that’s contingent on you doing the work.”

“I can do that!” she said, burning with enthusiasm at the idea of that much money. The funny thing about it from my perspective is that I was worried would be much less than most of her new peers at school. I was worried I was giving her too little for her new environment. Well, I guess Emmy was buying her all the clothes she’d ever need, so the money was purely for personal entertainment, so it should be fine.

When I discussed it with Emmy later that night, she told me that she thought it was low, too. “My allowance was five thousand Euros a week,” she said, recalling her teenage years in France. “But I had to buy my own clothes,” she added.

“Well, Grace isn’t getting anything near that,” I said. “But maybe we can up it if it seems to be too little.”

Thankfully, Grace needed very little parenting. She was good about doing her chores, dedicated to her school work, and quiet around the house. She wore headphones when she watched the television, so I didn’t even have to listen to that, for which I was grateful.

The one concern I really had was her choices in girlfriends. At her new school, she was out and proud and according to her, nobody batted an eye. In fact, there were plenty of girls who were either gay or willing to give it a try, so Grace had little problem finding companionship. I was happy for her for that, but it seemed from my perspective that there wasn’t really much if any love there. The girls she brought home just mostly wanted to fool around, and most of them (again, from my perspective) seemed more enamored of the fact that they got to see Emmy’s house and spend time in the home of a rock star than actually be into Grace.

In fact, at one point I asked Grace about it. “I hate to say it, but I got the impression that Tish was just here to see Emmy,” I said after Tish’s parents picked her up after dinner. “It kinda seemed like she was just using you,” I said, trying to be blunt but gentle.

“Yeah,” Grace agreed. “But it’s a two way street, you know?”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Well, Tish is just using me in a way, but it’s only fair, since I’m just using Emmy to hook up with Tish, too,” she said, shrugging.

“That’s..um, callous of you,” I said, displeased with the admission.

“I mean, yeah, kinda,” Grace agreed. “But look. Tish knows I live with you guys, right? Me being near Emmy makes me a whole lot more attractive to her, so I have to use what I can, you know?” she explained. “I think she kinda likes me, and I kinda like her, too, and us both liking The Downfall gives us something in common to start with. I hope that things go farther, since, I mean, you know, she’s hot, and all, and I think she’s ready to, uh, well, go farther…” she said, trailing off as she realized she might have shared a bit too much.

“Just to be clear,” I asked. “You’re mainly interested in her because you think she’s sexy and might, um, put out?”

“Leah, I’m almost sixteen” Grace said. “And Tish is the first girl I’ve even kissed. And it was awesome, you know?”

“Uh, yeah, I think I have some idea,” I said, trying to not roll my eyes.

“I’m kinda scared, but I want more, too,” Grace said, and I knew exactly what she meant. “And I think Tish might be into it, you know? She says she’s straight, but she kissed me first, so what does that mean?”

“Well, I’m no expert,” I admitted, “but from what I understand, it means she’s either in denial or just experimenting. Either way, it’s probably not going to end with ‘happily ever after’.”

“It doesn't have to,” Grace said. “It’s not like either of us are in love with the other, you know? We’re just fooling around, that’s all.”

“And if it means you get laid…” I said, trying to be sympathetic but at the same time, not so much.

“If Tish and I get, you know, nakie, and do things I’ve only ever seen online, well that’s one hundred per cent awesome,” Grace agreed, a bit to my dismay.

I’ve only ever made love with three people in my life, and I was in love with each of them in their time. It just didn’t seem right to sex up somebody simply because it was available and convenient, but maybe that’s more my hangup than Grace’s.

She was reinventing herself in real time, and maybe the person she wanted to be was a womanizer. I hoped not, but I’d come to know a number of people who felt just the way Grace was explaining herself to me.

The scene backstage held no real interest for me, so I was wandering through the crowd when the lights came on the stage, announcing that The Downfall was about to start their show. Like everybody else, I pressed forward in anticipation. I knew Emmy and the boys had worked a while on a special performance for this night and I was curious to see what they had in store for everybody.

Lee walked on stage, wearing shorts and a yellow and black Charlie Brown T-shirt. He bowed to the audience who all went wild, clapping and cheering. Lee waved at the crowd with his sticks, then took a seat behind his kit. With one last, long look at the crowd, he started in with a heavy, steady beat. The audience roared with excitement, and Lee pounded his way into a long solo, driving the crowd wild. The energy was amazing out on the grass of that polo field and everybody was just eating it up. After a couple of minutes Jackson strolled out onto the stage, which caused even more cheering. He picked up his bass guitar and matched Lee’s powerful, driving beat. The two matched each other, then counterpointed (I think that’s the right word) the rhythm each other were playing out on that warm desert night.

The interplay between the two, blasted out on that million-watt sound system, had my heart beating in time and there was nothing I could do to resist the music as it seemed to take over my central nervous system. I wasn’t the only one, either- everybody was moving to the heavy, pounding beat.

My eyes were yanked back to the stage by the crowd’s insane screaming as Emmy walked on stage, wearing baggy cargo pants, Chuck Taylors and a white tank top that was so thin you could clearly see the hot pink bra underneath it. She smiled and waved to the crowd, then picked up her guitar. Her pick in her right hand, her left on the neck of her blue guitar, Emmy took a long, slow visual sweep of the crowd, smiling with satisfaction. Finally, after killing us all with anticipation, she ripped into a screaming, wailing guitar riff. If I’d thought the audience was as loud as it could get before that, I was proven completely wrong. With a shock I realized my own throat was hoarse with screaming, too. I’d been just as caught up as everybody else, and embarrassed, I shut my mouth in chagrin.

At the end of the instrumental intro that had become a signature of The Downfall’s live shows, Jackson stepped up the microphone. “Thank y’all for coming tonight,” he said, his Texas accent as thick and sweet as ever. “We are The Downfall, here to play some music for a couple a hours. It’s gonna be just us, you, and fifty thousand of our very best friends here tonight in beautiful Indio, California,” he said, pronouncing it ‘Cal ee fornya’.

“I hope y’all are in the mood to rock, ‘cause this ain’t gonna be an intimate evening of acoustic music. No, this here’s gonna one big-ass rock show tonight, courtesy of Emmy, Lee and me.” Turning to look at Emmy, he asked “Ready to kick it, Em?”

Emmy just smiled, nodded, and hit a powerful, piercing chord. Jackson and Lee followed her lead and soon the band was blasting out a hard rock version of “Any way at all” from their first album. Jackson hadn’t been kidding about the night not being acoustic, it seemed. The pretty little ballad from the CD was turned into a rock anthem and soon the crowd was chanting the refrain at the top of their lungs, completely wrapped up in the music.

Jen and Steph had appeared on stage and were dancing in their respective white devil and black angel costumes, the light show was going full blast, and the giant video screen behind the stage was showing a twenty foot tall close-up of Emmy’s face as she sang.

‘A big-ass rock show’, all right, I thought as I pushed my way through the crowd to get over to the right side so I could go backstage and check on Grace and Patty, her current girlfriend. Glancing up I saw that I had a great view of Stephanie dancing, so I paused for a moment to watch as she did a slow, sexy shimmy during a quiet moment.

I overheard the girl in front of me shouting to her dark-haired friend something like “You say you went to school with her?” which caught my attention. I looked at the two college-aged girls and felt a shock when I realized that the dark-haired girl holding the blonde’s hand was Courtney Hubbard, my old best friend. As I watched from less than four feet behind, Courtney leaned over to talk in her friend’s ear, which she followed up with a nuzzle and a kiss. A very friendly kiss, I might add.

To say I was stunned is an understatement. I had no idea what to say or do, so I backed up and let the crowd fill in between me and Courtney and her girlfriend. I circled around to the side entrance to the backstage area, still in a daze. Seeing my badge the security guys let me through, and I made my way back to the dressing room, which was really just a trailer parked behind the stage.

The girls weren’t there, so I just flopped down in one of the comfy chairs to think about what I’d just seen, and what it meant.

After an hour, Emmy and the boys came bustling in, all sweaty and wired on adrenaline. The two guys were shirtless, and Emmy had removed her tank top as well, stripped down to her hot pink bra.

I quickly told Emmy about what I’d seen, and to my surprise she just laughed.

“Does this mean that her behavior winter term was just jealousy?” Emmy asked, her eyes shining with excitement. Needing to return to the stage for their encore, Emmy grabbed my hand and dragged me to where I could sit off-stage to watch. Grace and Patty were already there, so I just grabbed a director’s chair and sat next to them to watch the end of the show. Emmy said something to the boys, and they nodded they understood as they took their places.

Emmy raised her hands to quiet the crowd, and when she was satisfied, she announced “I have just been told that an old friend of mine from school is here in the audience tonight.” Again she raised her hands to hush the audience before she continued. “Courtney, I am glad you came to see us tonight. I hope you’ve enjoyed the show. In fact, if you want to come back stage after the show, I would love to say hello. Meanwhile, though, this next song is for you. We had not planned on playing it tonight, but it seemed appropriate.”

I had a sinking feeling this was going to be a train wreck, and when Emmy started singing “She’s Got (What I Want)” all I could do was bury my face in my hands. Jeeze, Em. I mean, really. All I could do was cringe when Emmy sang

“What I want, baby, she’s got

What I want, baby, is you”

Grace was a sharp kid, and I just knew I was going to have to answer some questions later, judging by the inquisitive look she gave me.

I was not the least surprised that Courtney never made her way back stage. I figured even if Emmy had in fact told the security guys to let her and her friend back to the trailer she’d have been too insulted by Emmy’s verbal slap to show her face.

Grace and Patty wanted to go with Lee, Jackson and Jen to some party being hosted by Kanye West or somebody like that, but I put my foot down and told them no way. The five of us were going back to the hotel to get some sleep, and anyhow, fifteen-year-old girls did not belong at rock parties- there was no way that was any kind of good idea. We piled into the Escalade, Emmy and Stephanie tired from performing, the girls full of energy and excitement, and me, kind of depressed. When we got back to the house we’d rented in Palm Springs I made sure the girls were settled down in their room, then went back to ours and waited for Emmy to get out of the shower.

I guess my unhappiness was obvious, because it didn’t take more than a moment for Emmy to drop the towel she was using to dry her hair and come over to sit on my lap. Usually a naked Emmy up close and personal made me happy, but this time my mood wasn’t so good.

“What is wrong, Leah?” she asked, stroking my hair.

“That was mean, what you did,” I answered.

“Is this about Courtney?” Emmy asked.

“You didn’t need to be so bitchy,” I complained. “I mean, even if she was just jealous back in senior year, you didn’t need to rub her face in it.”

“Oh, baby,” Emmy sighed. “You are probably correct. But I could not help myself, Leah. She had mistreated you so badly, and why? Because she was jealous of me? Because she never moved to tell you how she felt about you? These are not good reasons to avoid the one who had been your best friend since childhood, are they?” Emmy asked, defending herself.

“No, maybe not, but Emmy, there was no reason to antagonize her like that. That was just mean. And besides, when you thought I was with Stephanie, you did the same thing to me.”

Emmy started to object, but just as quickly shut up, biting off whatever it was she had been about to say. After a moment of thought, she agreed. “Yes, I did, did I not?” Then after another thoughtful pause, she said “I should apologize.”

“Yeah,” I said doubtfully. “I’m not sure how that’s gonna work.”

Hopping off my lap, Emmy walked over to the bed stand to grab her iPad. The old joke about hating to see her leave but loving to watch her walk away ran through my mind as I admired the way her beautiful naked body swayed as she moved. How could I stay mad at somebody I loved so much? It just wasn’t possible.

She climbed back on my lap settling herself into a comfortable position, and I used the opportunity to run my hands over her still-damp skin as she logged in to Facebook. On The Downfall’s page Emmy posted “During the final set of tonight’s show at the Coachella Music festival, I dedicated a song to a friend of mine from high school. The words I spoke before the song, and the choice of song we performed were really quite bitchy, and I am sorry. I hope you see this, Courtney, and please accept my apology. It was thoughtless and cruel, and I do hope that we can become friends again. Again, I am sorry, and I hope I did not ruin the night for you. Please contact me so I can make it up to you and your friend somehow. Signed, Emmy.”

“I hope that she sees that,” Emmy said, hitting the button to post her apology.

“Did you mean it?” I asked.

“Yes, I did. When you told me you saw Courtney with another girl, it only confirmed what I had felt back then, which is that she had been jealous. I was excited and felt…” Emmy struggled to find the right word. “Triumphant. I was the one who had you, not Stephanie, not Courtney. Me. I was the one on stage, the one everybody was cheering for, and Courtney, well, she was watching from the crowd. I had won, and she, she had lost. That was how I felt.”

“But-” I started to object, but Emmy put her finger to my lips to shush me.

“Now, now that I am calm, I see that it was not the right thing to do. Taunting like that is cruel, as you said. Nobody likes an ungracious winner, and that is not what I want to be.”

With that, she hit the refresh button, and I saw that her post already had a bunch of replies. The first said “OMG! What happened?” The second was from somebody that had obviously been there at Coachella, because it said “It seemed like some kind of love triangle thing”. There were more, but Emmy hit refresh again and the first few vanished, Facebook only showing the last handful of comments.

“I think she will soon hear of it,” And I had to agree.

Unable to stay angry, I pulled Emmy into my embrace and nuzzled her damp hair. “I want you to know, you didn’t win,” I whispered. As Emmy started to pull away in indignation, I continued. “I did.”