Sarabande, Ch. 14
“Sorry,” Jerry said.
“Oh, lord,” Tracy groaned. “Oh, man, Stella, I’m sorry, I forgot, goddamn!”
“I’m sorry, my friend,” Jerry repeated. “I genuinely wish I could let you go. If it were any other night-”
“Cocksucker!” he whined, and buried his face in her neck. “We have to go, baby. See, it’s the gods of money, they have to be appeased, so we meet them– where?”
“Spago.”
“She’s coming with me, or I don’t go. And that Angel, with Tone, Jerry.”
“Somehow,” Jerry said dryly; “I anticipated this demand. Tomorrow I will tell you how much extra work you’ve caused me. And you will express the proper regard. Stella, you and Alegra, Tracy and Tony. Gina and Toffer wished to make this scene. Marco and Karl have most kindly opted out. Chris Visage, and Marcus Mooney and Desmond Benton are in the mix, as you put it.” He looked at Tracy, kindly. “I know you’re tired, Tracy. I promise I’ll cover for you, if you absolutely must leave, but please, try to put it off for as long as you can. You know, even if you act erratically, these people will only put it down to Artistic Temperament.”
Once again, a long table at a restaurant. Stella looked at the man next to her, noted his drawn face, red-rimmed eyes. The solicitous attention his band members had shown him on the ride over was somewhat alarming. But the food seemed to restore his sense of humor. And, with Visage missing, the room was much quieter than that other had been.
“You okay, Tracy?” she asked him. He grinned;
“Tired, baby, that’s all. I ain’t licked yet… Check out Marcus?”
“Hey, man, what’s Marcus’ problem with you?” Tony asked at the very same instant, from across the table.
“Yeah, he’s wondering if Stella ain’t for rent or something.”
“You better not be starting any of your shit, Cuz.”
Tracy ignored him. “Stella… What do you want me to do?”
“I’ll talk to him.” She rose and made her way past Marcus and Desmond, towards the lady’s room.
“Looky, ooh-whee, looky!” Toffer said. “Damn, Trace! Now, you just let me know if you ever need any help with that dame!” he guffawed.
“Hey, bro,” Tracy said, watching her black velvet ass sway off; “Some day I might need some help, no lie!” He cackled and reached over to slap five with his bass player. Suits forgot to chew their food as she walked past, their women bridling. -Cunt walking– A kick under the table from Tony.
Stella took her time, perfecting her lipstick and eyeliner. She looked in the mirror, carefully; The long day had left no ravages on her skin or in her expression. How strange. She felt refreshed, lighthearted. In love?
–Guess what– her reflection said to her. –My name isn’t Karen anymore. It’s Stella–
“Nice to meet you,” she said aloud.
Reentering the room, she saw Desmond and Marcus beckoning her. “Mister Mooney’s complements.” Desmond jumped up to pull out a chair for her. “Would you care to join him at his table?”
“Oh, thank you so much, Desmond,” Stella said warmly. “I can’t stay… another time?” She took her time settling into the chair.
“Now girl,” Marcus spoke up; “I’ve been told you love the man, it’s true, but do you really think he should treat you like that? Honey, you could be with a number one!” He made an honestly concerned face.
“Well, I don’t know, Marcus, darling… Some things are hard to explain, aren’t they? Do you think I should be crying rape right now?”
“It surely was a nasty thing to do,” Desmond said.
“That’s the truth,” she said. “Poor guy, he was at his wits end, trying to get me satisfied… Sometimes, it hits me that way–”
“Don’t tell me you wanted that.”
“Mister Mooney, that’s what I am telling you.” She looked at him blandly. “You know, some women… Think you can handle it? You’ve got to think of something extra for a dame like me.”
The two men looked at her skeptically. “If you wanna get slammed in a hallway, missy,” Marcus said at last; “I guess we could accommodate you.”
Stella snorted; “No, that isn’t the point, Marcus. You what he was doing, don’t you?”
“Oh, sure, baby, he was taking your female energy from you.”
“Yeah, well he came back to me on his knees, did you know that? Begging me to take it back. You know what I took along with it?”
Marcus was irritated; “Baby, I can’t even guess.”
“Well, I took his soul, honey, that’s what. I’m sorry, I don’t think you’re ready to pay the price for me–”
“Damn, girl, I know you don’t believe that shit for one minute!” Marcus exploded. Stella laughed.
“I know. Tracy believes it though, and he’s willing. You think I’m going to give that up for the sake of politeness? I’m too bloodthirsty, honey, honestly.”
Marcus looked at her for a long moment. “Maybe I’d better warn the boy,” he said at last.
“Oh, do, Marcus. I know how you all see him. Poor little freak, can’t help himself, you and Prince… Honey, you just don’t know what I’d do for him.”
“And what can you do for him, baby? He already a superstar without your help.”
“If you looking for money,” Desmond put in; “We can do that better than him, too.” Marcus looked aghast at the crudeness of the suggestion. Stella summoned up her powers.
“Who needs the money?” she said haughtily. “I own him. I know I can’t do much for the musician, except stay out of his way,” she told Marcus. “If you care. The man… He gets me. You know what he gets, Marcus?” She turned on him, and had the intense satisfaction of seeing him flinch momentarily.
“Marcus,” she growled. “He gets ecstasy like you can’t even imagine– not you, you wouldn’t give it up like that, dig? Tracy isn’t afraid of me, I’m not afraid of him, either… If I were you, I’d start being afraid. Now that we’re together.”
“Hmmn.” Marcus said. Desmond tilted his chair back and lifted an eyebrow.
“I ain’t about to argue with that,” he said.
“Well, damn,” Marcus said. “If that’s the way you want it, girl, I guess you’re welcome to it, but what a shame.” He turned away, fingered his wineglass irritably.
“No hard feelings, baby, okay?” Desmond stood as she did. He dimpled at her; “Keep him happy.”
“Desmond? I really do love him…”
“Cool,” he said, and sat back down.
Tracy stood up to meet her as she strutted back to the table. “Stand straight,” he murmured to her, and before she could react, dropped in a single graceful motion to his knees, and then to a crouch before her. She glanced down momentarily, to see his elegant spine turn to one side as he reached for her right foot and brought his lips to kiss it. She didn’t want to ruin this for him, by any sign that she hadn’t been expecting it. Her chief concern was what to do with her hands, that wanted so badly to clasp each other; she forced them to rest on her thighs. A shift of his body brought him to the other foot, and his ascent was as graceful as the drop had been. He assisted her to her chair as they sat down.
“Oh, shit!” Toffer was laughing. “Crazy fool…” Gina watched impassively, Jerry also. The executives Tracy was there for looked pleased; This was the kind of rock and roll eccentricity they were there for. Amusing sideshows at dinner, good press for the morning papers.
“Cuz,” Tony said. He wasn’t laughing. Stella watched messages flash back and forth between them, until Tony turned away to make a fuss over Alegra. –That’s interesting,– Stella thought. –Is Tony jealous?–
“What was that about?” she asked quietly.
He shrugged; “Tone goes off sometimes, that’s all– What did you say to Mar-cuss?”
An irresistible smile spread over her face; “I told him… That I own your soul.”
“You said that?” His mouth quirked at the corners.
“Yeah… I said I let you do anything you want because I own you. I know he’s not ready to pay that kind of price for me. It sure shut him up in a hurry…”
He eyed her, fingering his lower lip. –Blackness, webbed with light.–
“And then I go worshipping at your feet.”
“Perfect…”
He put his head down on the table, and yawned hugely. “Oh, Stella,” he murmured. “I don’t believe it. Let’s go home, okay baby? Take a taxi, I don’t care…”
He made his good-byes, moving gracefully through the suits, shaking hands or slapping high-fives. Tony came around the table as she stood up, and took her head in his hands.
“Take care, now,” he instructed. “Alegra got your number? So, we’ll call in the morning. Listen, don’t split the crib without you talk to me, okay, we got some kind of meeting in these next days he’s gotta be at.”
“Okay Tone,” she said; “I won’t let him disappear…” She looked at him quizzically. “Is he okay?”
Tony’s face suddenly got very shy. “You know what, baby. He probably more okay with you than without. Well…” he put his face into her neck. “Have fun, you little freak.” Alegra clung to her for a second, and Tracy came to collect her, offering his arm as they made their exit.
Stella felt him stumble, before they had taken three steps from the door. “Shit–” suddenly his weight rested entirely on her. “Sorry,” he muttered, and staggered again. She sat him on the edge of a planter, and ran to open the door of the waiting taxi.
“Come on, Trace,” she called, and looked back. It was obvious he wasn’t coming on. He sat slumped sideways like a disjointed puppet, his hands clasped between his knees, and she went back to discover that he was shivering.
“Oh, lord,” he managed, through chattering teeth. She got him to his feet and half-carried him into the cab, and held him, fiercely, as they rode through the bustling nightlife of Hollywood and into the deserted streets of Silverlake.
“Thanks, baby…” he whispered. “I need touch–” She stroked the hair back from his face, caught his restless hands to keep them still.
“Is it drugs, Tracy?” she whispered back. Her heart was ready to break, thinking about it.
“No, no, baby, Stella, It ain’t drugs, honest… I’m so tired… You…” he trailed off. “You wanna know what I first saw,” he said after a time. “We was walking backstage, and I got hit in the eye by a laser beam… You was wearing your diamond studs… damn… In that VIP room, all those shirts, you looked like a wolf in with the sheep, baby… Shark with the tuna… Tony saw you first, I had to beat him out… Hold onto me…”
Stella directed the driver up her neighbor’s driveway, and guided her new lover, stumbling, across the little patch of lawn to her door.
*******************************
“Oh, lord, was I?” he said. “Ooh, I hope I didn’t scare you or nothing.”
“No” she lied. “It looked like you had too much sex, that’s all.” He laughed and reached for her.
“Not while I’m driving.” She squirmed away from his touch.
“Ahh…” Tracy lay into the seat, the sun in his face. Stella drove like a cowboy, manhandling her old white Jeep through the crazy L.A. traffic. They were coming back from Rodeo Drive. Stella had given him the guided tour, and he’d done his best to buy out the district for her. Perverse bitch, it seemed like there was nothing she really wanted. A few pairs of shoes at Charles Jourdan. Versace, she dug. High fashion streetwear. She helped him pick out some things for himself, though. Funny with dames, you never know.
Stella was thinking the same thing. It seemed the silks were too silky, the classics too classic, the avant garde tired and retro… It came to her at last; Tracy. She had Tracy, a gem more brilliant than the Hope Diamond– who needed mere clothes? She pulled into Tower Records, so he could buy music and sign autographs for the dozen or so girls– cool and sophisticated in front of him, and dissolving in hysteria as soon as they were out of sight– that descended on them. And the drive took them past one place she thought she could let him spend on her; Midnight Moon, the lingerie lover’s paradise.
And buy he did. They left the store, two hours later, an armfull of silky things, and several more left behind in the sewing room. Stella now wore a black and dull ochre corset, as a top to her black jeans. Her denim jacket covered her arms.
“Why bother?” he asked.
“Hmmn?” She swung the Jeep out into the traffic.
“How come you didn’t cover up, the other night? When we got out of the limo… That thing was worse than naked…”
She looked over, grinning. “You asked me not to, baby. Remember?”
“Oh, Lord– What else would you do if I asked you?”
“I thought that camisole looked nice.”
“Nice… No, not nice,” Tracy said thoughtfully. –Something like a tigress on a chain in a subway during rush hour– “Take me someplace really, really cool for lunch,” he said aloud.
“Dinner,” she said. “You have to be at Warner’s in an hour.”
“No!” he whined. “I don’t want to go inside, and all the papers, and stuff… I wanna hang with you and maybe look at guitars somewhere. And you need a leather jacket.”
“Sorry, no time. But we’ll go over Laurel Canyon, and I can show you where Houdini used to have his house, and where Frank Zappa lived…”
He let her drive him, blissfully indulging in fantasy. Someone else’s responsibility. She would get him places, exercise him, take him to rehearsals, sit him down to eat. Always at his shoulder, a stern, loving guide… Green shade flickered madly across his eyelids as they traveled along the canyon floor. At home in Chi, right now, it would be unbearably hot. The balmy air sent delicious almost-chills along his skin. A song hovered in his memory; he tried it aloud, something about her last name; “Mckayne. Baby… Baby… Baby Mckayne, Will ya…”
“Buick McKayne!” Stella laughed. “I don’t believe it! No one’s heard of that song!”
“Marc Bolan, T. Rex. Man, I dug that dude.”
“Oh, yeah. You know, I kind of thought so.” Stella spoke absently; she was nearing the top of the pass, and the twisting road needed all her attention.
“You kind of thought so? What?”
“I thought you might have dug Bolan. Some of your early songs… ‘Don’t go’, and ‘Freedom’s Way’, those kinds of songs… I thought there might be some influence.”
“No lie?” Tracy said in astonishment, as they swung over the crest of the hill. The Valley lay spread out under them, and they began the curving descent. “You have a pretty good ear, huh.”
“Yeah… I’m a good fan.” She looked over at him and he caught a flash of possessiveness in her eyes. It was gone in an instant, and he wondered if she even knew.
Stella had a chance to see Alegra, while the men went into the meeting. It was a wonder they hadn’t met, on Rodeo Drive; Tony had ransacked the street for her. Alegra hadn’t thought of Midnight Moon yet. Stella decided to let Tracy buy her yet another pair of Charles Jourdan boots, if he still felt like spending money.
Alegra was staying with Tony at the Hyatte. She was going to San Francisco with him, Stella was going too, wasn’t she? Stella had already called her agent to cancel everything for next week– Alegra made her call there and then. Sometimes it’s good not to have too much work, right?
“I think I’m changing my name to Stella,” she said. “On my head cards, and everything… Think I can get away with it?” Alegra laughed. “Well,” Stella demanded; “It’s worth a try, don’t you think?”
“And you were telling me to be careful!” Alegra giggled uncontrollably. Stella laughed, sheepishly, but she was telling herself that it wasn’t Tracy, really… A sense of destiny, the webbed pathways of light, about to veer off in some other direction… Well, maybe it was Tracy.
Then, the men came out. Tony looked for Alegra and walked straight towards her, Stella noted. Tracy stood at the door, in order to appraise every woman in the room. His eyes raked her over, impersonally as he came towards her– and she was assailed again by doubt.
–Honestly, I’m not used to love– she thought; –Sex is so much easier.–
“Where can we go for dinner?” Tony boomed. “We got some shit to celebrate!”
“Oh, man,” Tracy whined, and dropped down against Stella’s side. “I can’t… I’ll eat bologna sandwiches at your pad. No more restaurant, I swear…”
“I’m taking him home, right now.” Stella put her arms around Tracy Bell. He curled himself into her lap, and grinned.
