Jump Cut

A novel about love, sex, and electric guitars

by S.K. Rogers

© 2000 by Suzy Rogers. All rights reserved. ISBN 978-0-557-62550-5

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Chapter 1

Name Game From Soundline magazine, February, 1999

How do bands decide on names? The British band Slouching towards Bliss got their moniker from a book drummer Richard Corley’s girlfriend was reading. “It was called ‘Slouching towards Bethlehem,’ and we thought that sounded cool,” recalls frontman Kelly Ross. “But religious references are too much grief. Someone came up with Slouching towards Ecstasy, but that sounded like drug dealers with bad posture. We ended up with Bliss by default.” In the case of L.A. alt-rockers Sex Gun, their name was taken from misquoted lyrics. Singer Jeremy Kane heard his bass player singing along with the Clash’s cover of “I fought the law.” “Arik kept singing, ‘robbing people with a sex gun’ instead of six-gun, and it struck me as humorous,” says Kane. “Keep in mind this was almost 20 years ago, and we were dumb kids still in high school. A lot of people thought it was a takeoff on the Sex Pistols, but in fact that hadn’t occurred to us. Somehow we never got around to changing it…let that be a cautionary tale for anyone starting up a band. Try and pick a name that’s not really stupid, because next thing you know, you may have a hit record and be stuck with it.” Arik Jones is philosophical. “It could have been worse. Look at the Goo Goo Dolls.” “It was worse,” says Kane. “They started out as the Sex Maggots. They’re lucky no one listened to them back then.”

If He Could With a new Sex Gun album in the works, Jeremy Kane is turning his back on a troubled past and looking to the future.

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MusicTown magazine, April, 1999

It’s midmorning at Café Solo, an unpretentious Santa Monica eatery. The skies are blue and cloudless, but across the table, Jeremy Kane is in anything but a sunny mood. In just a few short minutes, I have evidently managed to touch on every taboo subject: namely, sex, drugs, and violence, and Sex Gun’s notoriously volatile frontman is making it clear he’s not happy with this reporter. But how can you not ask? This is a band whose reputation for personal problems has at times threatened to eclipse their prodigious talent, and Kane has always been in the forefront of any controversy. It’s partly the contradiction, the rise and fall and rise again of his fortunes, that makes him such an object of fascination. Of course, the drop dead good looks, an abundance of personal charisma and often rampant sexuality don’t hurt either. He’s an athlete whose accomplishments include surfing, climbing and motocross, yet he’s battled heroin addiction over an almost twenty year period. He’s a songwriter who won a Grammy for the achingly beautiful no.1 hit of 1990, “If I Could”* – and was once arrested in mid-performance during a Florida show due to the graphic sexual content of the raw and angry “Come Hard.” He’s served prison terms for assault on two occasions: two months in 1982 after beating a high school classmate senseless in a parking lot brawl, and nine months in 1984 when he punched out a police officer. He’s been arrested enough other times for his bandmates to have lost count. (Interestingly, none of his encounters with the law have been drug-related: his two trips to rehab have been voluntary.) He also reads constantly, is well informed on issues ranging from the environment to world trade, and can quote Shakespeare, Sun Tzu or even Simone de Beauvoir. (“Know your enemy,” he says in explanation of the latter. “I’m kidding,” he adds.) His demeanor can be equal parts charm and intimidation. Intimidation has the upper hand at the moment, however. Hands wrapped around a mug of black coffee, Kane says frowningly, “Can’t you people think of anything else to ask me? I’m really sick of talking about this stuff that happened years ago.” He’s probably entitled to be somewhat cranky this morning –

* Lyrics at www.skrogersonline.com 4

last night’s recording session, he told me earlier, lasted until sun-up. His heavy lidded, thick lashed bedroom eyes look downright fatigued, their curious black-blue-brown color somewhat blurred. His hair is almost the same shade, and it falls forward obscuring the sharply planed angles of his face as he hunches over his coffee. It used to reach the middle of his back, but he says he “just got tired of it” one night not long ago, and picked up the kitchen scissors. “Jaime keeps threatening to take me to a stylist,” he says, referring to his girlfriend. “But I kind of like this look. She says it’s a mess, but at least it’s nice and low maintenance. It gets in the way, I hack it off.” He grins. His face is saved from being overly Hollywood handsome by a chipped tooth at the edge of his smile. It reminds you that no matter how gorgeous a specimen of manhood he is, this is someone who has lived uncompromisingly hard for most of his 36 years. Jeremy Kane’s early biography is sketchy – he will say almost nothing about his family, deflecting questions with a curt “we weren’t close.” By the time he teamed up with Arik Jones and Steve Stanley to form what would eventually become Sex Gun, he was already on his own, a member of the surfing brotherhood who lived mostly, he admits, out of the back of a battered Chevy station wagon. Kane, Jones and Stanley were becoming known in the L.A. punk rock scene while they were still (more or less) in high school. Not long after Jones and Stanley graduated (Kane himself having been kicked out earlier- the former principal describes him as “ very smart and very disruptive”) the three teamed up with drummer Johnny Deal, who had been with a Valley band called Stray Dogs. “They were very hard core,” recalls Kane. “While we were kind of combining punk – the hard edges, the crashing noise and power of it – with a more melodic sound, and lyrics that tried to say something. But Johnny liked our sound, and he wanted out of the Valley.” They met Daniel da Silva, the extremely talented and equally spacey guitar player, at a Jeff Beck show. Within two years, the quintet was on a steady diet of club dates and festival gigs. They landed a recording contract shortly thereafter – but the album was delayed while Kane served nine months for felony assault. When the record was finally released in 1985, the unambiguously titled “Come Hard” went gold, and the 1986 follow up “Down and In” did even better, going double platinum behind the success of the top 10 hit “Do You Wanna Know?”

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What followed was a seesaw ride of critical and commercial success, punctuated by multi platinum albums released at fairly regular intervals, but alternating with the arrests (including Kane several times for alleged violence, although he was never formally charged, Deal for public disturbance after a quarrel with a girlfriend, da Silva for public nuisance due to neighbors’ noise complaints, Stanley for malicious property damage after a hotel room incident, Kane and da Silva for indecent exposure after an impromptu shower in a fountain after a concert in Chicago – only Arik Jones has managed to stay out of the slammer) the stints in rehab (both Steve Stanley and Kane in 1985, Kane again in 1993) and relationship problems (Deal divorced after five years of marriage in 1994, Jones separated from his girlfriend of six years, singer Kara Lewis, in 1995). Tragedy struck in 1992 when Stanley was killed in a car accident rumored to have been cocaine related, but the band regrouped in 1993 to do a wildly successful world tour. But 1996 turned out to be the nadir of the group’s experience, when the always eccentric da Silva succumbed to manic – depressive illness, Kane relapsed into heroin addiction once more, Johnny Deal’s drinking was out of control, and Jones felt so disheartened, he turned expatriate and went to London. But somehow the irrepressible foursome overcame their problems, and once again reinvented themselves as a force to reckon with on the alternative rock scene. Not content to be consigned to the “where are they now” file, they regrouped and played the Feed the World benefit in 1998, where the enthusiastic reception of the crowd of over 100,000 ensured their comeback bid. Now they’re back in the studio, finishing up their seventh album, titled “After the Hurricane.” Having listened to some of the tracks at the studio the day before, I ask Kane about the change in focus that I noticed in the lyrics. They sound more romantic than the Sex Gun fare of old. Does this signal a change in his attitude towards women, from apparently regarding them as disposable commodities to something more meaningful? “Oh, christ,” he says disgustedly. “That is not fair. The fact that so far I haven’t been able or motivated to stay in a relationship indefinitely does not mean I lack respect for women.” Maybe so. But the combination of his undeniable sexual magnetism, frequently explicit lyrics, and a string of carelessly discarded girlfriends combine to make Jeremy Kane a guy you

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wouldn’t want your sister to date. Confronted with this reputation for callousness, he is unrepentant. “I’ve never lied to anyone about who I am, or what I was about,” he says, black eyes snapping under lowered brows. “People make their own choices.” (“Jeremy Kane doesn’t have a problem with commitment,” commented one ex-girlfriend sarcastically. “He doesn’t even know it exists.”) “Jeremy’s never had to put any effort into acquiring women,” says Arik Jones. “There have always been a lot of girls throwing themselves at him, and he tends to sample what’s on offer, rather than looking around for someone who’s right. He’s lazy that way.” At the same time, he has written some heartbreakingly beautiful love songs, such as “Miss You Forever” and “Deep Night.” Does he see this as a contradiction? “No, because those songs expressed some part of what I was feeling at a particular time,” he says dismissively. “The fact that it didn’t last doesn’t invalidate the reality of what it was. Besides,” he adds wryly, “‘Miss You’ was about Steve Stanley. I wrote it not long after he was killed.” He sighs a little, leaning back in his chair, linking his hands behind his head. “I think I want something that I’m never going to have,” he muses. “Maybe something that doesn’t really exist. It leads to a certain level of frustration, when you feel you’re constantly chasing a chimera.” (He has to be one of the few rock stars in the world who can use a word like chimera in everyday conversation.) “But as far as now goes,” he says, “I’m actually monogamous and enjoying it. I’ve been with the same girlfriend for over a year.” The girlfriend in question is 23 year old model Jaime Cage. They met when she approached him at a Sunset Strip nightclub and asked him to dance. Why the conversion to monogamy? Kane shrugs. “You reach a point where it seems like it should be less recreational and more personal,” he says. “When you get down to it, life is ultimately about how you connect. To your work, your art, your surroundings, and to other people.” Well, that sounds promisingly evolved. Then he quirks an eyebrow and says with the smile that is one of his trademarks, the one with a touch of evil in it, “Besides, it’s simpler.” We go on to talk about the upcoming release of “After the

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Hurricane” and Kane becomes considerably more animated. “I love the stuff we’re doing now,” he says, leaning forward on brawny and tattooed arms. “It’s got real soul and heart in it, but it rocks. After a lot of problems,” here, he flashes me a smile, the charm now in the ascendant, “all those things you want to hash over ad nauseum – we all got to a place where we realized that the music is what really matters. And that feels so incredibly good, it shows in the songs.” I mention the plans for the upcoming tour. Is he at all worried that being back on the road may derail his and his bandmates’ present healthy state of mind? “You’re just intent on doom and gloom, aren’t you?” he says, teasingly. “No, I’m not worried at all. It’s not where you are geographically, it’s where you are in your head that counts, and I’m reasonably confident that we can all stay in a good place.” Reasonably? “That’s about the best you can do,” he says a little sadly, “with some of this stuff. That one day at a time shtick is no joke. Once you’ve been down that road to addiction and general madness, you’re just lying to yourself if you think it hasn’t changed your life forever. You can never really be sure you’re over it – you just don’t know what it might be that could bring you down again.” Then he hastens to add, “But for now, and I’d venture to say the foreseeable future, it’s a nonissue. Right now life is about the four of us making some incredible noise.” He smiles, genuinely happy at the prospect. Later, I follow Kane’s loud and beat-up Harley to the recording studio where we are to rendezvous with the rest of Sex Gun. They’re lounging around the parking area with folding chairs, beach umbrellas, and a cooler, enjoying the sun on this relatively smogless day. As usual, they’ve discarded shirts to reveal a lot of muscle and tattoos. Arik Jones looks like the prototypical surfer, with his long, sunstreaked blond mane, sunburnt nose, and sea green eyes. Generally regarded as the most well adjusted member of the band, he has an easy, friendly manner towards all. Daniel da Silva’s near shaved head and thin, ascetic features give him something of the look of a Buddhist monk, although one suspects few monks feature snakes crawling up their arms. While the rest of Sex Gun often come across as being a little dangerous, (or, in Kane’s case, a lot) da Silva seems gentle, a little dreamy, and has a fundamental sweetness in his demeanor. Johnny Deal

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looks like he could be Jeremy Kane’s smaller, wirier brother – his dark coloring, high cheekbones, full mouth and lean build are strikingly similar to the lead singer’s. Deal wears his hair just past his shoulders, and he smiles more readily than Jeremy. He’s also fidgety, constantly flexing his hands or twirling something in his fingers. At one point he’s tapping a pen on the top of the cooler, until Arik Jones snatches it away from him. Johnny grins, unoffended. “Occupational hazard,” he says. To a man, they appear healthy and athletic. It’s part of their contradictory image: the hard living, use and abuse approach to drugs, liquor and women contrasting with the buffed up look. They mostly seem amused that people find the contrast startling. “We’ve been stereotyped as these wild men who shoot up, snort coke, and slam down drinks, in between doing push ups and screwing anything that moves backstage,” comments Johnny Deal. “And I’m not saying we were sweet and innocent, but even in our worst moments, it was never as extreme as it was painted.” “Anyway, these days we’re pretty tame,” says Jones. “Very short on vice – we’d rather concentrate on music. The last time we were on the road, there wasn’t a party in sight. We’re boring, really.” It is noticeable that Sex Gun are generally an unpretentious lot. Despite their commercial success, there’s not a Ferrari to be found amongst them. They eschew Bel Air mansions for comfortable but homey abodes in the Hollywood Hills. Jeremy Kane doesn’t even go that far; he hasn’t yet bothered to replace his last house, which slid down one of Los Angeles’ canyons in the ’96 mudslides. He’s so downscale his bandmates tease him constantly. “Jeremy’s the only homeless millionaire rock star you’ll ever meet,” says Arik Jones. “He keeps forgetting to get a place to live.” Kane grins at Jones, and says, “Why should I? I like it at your place,” but he admits that buying a house has been on his list of things to do for some time now. “It’s a pain, you know? And since we’re going to be on tour a lot for the next year or so, there doesn’t seem much point in looking now.” “You’re just lazy,” Arik tells him. Johnny Deal adds, “Jeremy makes a terrible rock star. No glitz whatsoever.” It’s true that Kane’s lifestyle is remarkably lowkey. Granted that the alternative rock scene doesn’t have as high a profile as other genres, he’s still sadly lacking in the accoutrements of a

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celebrity. He drives a five year old Toyota 4x4, which shows the effects of salt and sand corrosion from too much time at the beach. He has the requisite Harley –Davidson motorcycle, but it’s also old and battered. (“No one’s tried to steal it,” he points out.) You won’t find him wearing any designer duds; he’s usually in the same kind of faded and torn jeans that became his trademark stage gear in Sex Gun’s early days, or in boardshorts. When he bothers with a shirt, it’s usually a washed out t promoting surfboards, bike shops, or someone else’s band. He did amaze everyone a few years ago by showing up for the MTV awards in a tux, completely conventional and startlingly handsome. (“You don’t want to be totally predictable,” he says in explanation.) He dismisses his lack of consumerism with a shrug. “I buy stuff when I think about it,” he says. “I bought tech stocks with some of my early royalty checks. I buy surfboards and guitars. I buy lots of books. I bought an emerald earring that I thought was nice, but that turned out to be a real mistake, because some asshole tried to rob me the first time I wore it.” Producer Tom Scott arrives and the action moves inside. The band has recorded in excess of twenty songs, and the process begins to try and narrow down which tracks will make the CD. Kane and Jones argue vociferously over one in particular, a song innocuously titled “Blue Day.” Kane likes it; Jones thinks it’s problematic. “Those lyrics are going to be taken as referring to acts of violence,” he says. “That’s not what it’s about,” retorts Kane. “I know that,” Jones replies, “but most people aren’t going to get it.” Kane gives in on this one, but adds, “It can be a bonus track on a UK single.” It’s already a given that the release will be slapped with a parental advisory label; all their material inevitably is. Does this bother them? “I think it comes with having a name like Sex Gun,” says da Silva pensively. “I’m okay with it,” says Jones, “because I don’t think our audience should include pre-pubescent kids, anyway.” Kane joins in. “I’m not going to write anything any differently because someone thinks it’s too explicit. If I use the word ‘fuck’ in a song, it’s because that’s exactly what I mean. People don’t want to buy it, fine.” One song that definitely makes the cut is slated to be the first single. “Troubles of My Own” has Sex Gun’s typical combination of distinctive melody and edgy arrangements, combined with

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lyrics that sound autobiographical. Kane admits that he writes from personal experience. “Troubles was done during one of my more reflective periods in the past few years,” he says. “I was at a point where I had to take a good look at my life, and make some changes. But before you can do that, you have to come to terms with where you’ve been.” And that, ultimately, has been Sex Gun’s strength, the characteristic that has brought them through the bad times and made them into the ultimate survivors. They know where they’ve been. Whether all the craziness is behind them remains to be seen, but one thing’s for sure: they’re back in the game.

Gun Control: Sex Gun frontman Jeremy Kane gives up trying dying to make music once again

Soundline, May, 1999

It’s always tempting to dismiss Sex Gun as just one more dysfunctional band from LA, trapped in the throes of addiction, mental instability, and general chaos, doomed to go into the annals of rock history under the category of “self destruction.” But just when you’re ready to count them down and out, they somehow resurrect themselves, sounding so damn good you realize why they’re still one of the best acts in alternative rock today. Likewise, one can describe singer/songwriter Jeremy Kane as a disturbed man with an almost fatal attraction to life on the dark side. You can dismiss him as a junkie, a felon, a troubled individual unable to break away from a cycle that has too often included heroin and periodic assaults on his fellow man. But it ignores the reality that he’s also intelligent, articulate, amazingly talented and one of the most charismatic frontmen of all time. These days Kane and his band are riding high on the wave of success following the release of their seventh album, “After the Hurricane.” As the title suggests, the record is full of allusions to starting over after catastrophe, of rising reborn from the wreckage. Is it prophetic for Kane and company? On a sunny afternoon in L.A., kicking back beside bass player Arik Jones’ pool, Jeremy Kane ponders the question. “We’ve certainly been through our share of trials and tribulations over the years,” he says with massive understatement. “And I think that this record reflects that, along

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with a need to move towards the positive.” The trials to which he refers have been well documented. In 1996 it looked almost certain that the band wouldn’t survive: the only question was whether anyone would be left standing. Kane was using again, guitarist Daniel da Silva was hospitalized with clinical depression, drummer Johnny Deal had hit bottom before finally checking into AA, and Jones had all but given up on his band. “I didn’t see any future for us,” he says. “It was even worse than when we lost Steve,” referring to Steve Stanley, the guitar player who was killed in a car accident in 1992. “We went through a lot of instability then” – including four guitarists in two years, before they gave up on finding a replacement- “but we were holding together, if just barely at times.” Kane nods in agreement. “We never really thought about quitting altogether back then,” he says. “Whereas by the end of 1996, I didn’t much care if I survived, let alone the band.” It was at that point that Arik Jones went to London for an extended period, to hang out with bands like Calling All Girls and work on a solo project. So what changed things around? Kane shrugs. “There was no dramatic, all defining moment. I was just so sick of myself, I knew it was either suicide or get clean.” No one knows how close he may have come to the former, although a series of misadventures during 1996-97 certainly suggest a cavalier disregard for survival. For a time, the title of Sex Gun’s 1995 release, Try Dying, seemed all too prophetic. After crashing a motorcycle in a motocross race and fracturing the tibia in his left leg, getting knocked unconscious while surfing 20 foot waves in Hawaii and an encounter in LA with a would-be mugger that left his assailant in the hospital and Kane in jail, the singer’s turbulent lifestyle appeared to slowly undergo a change. The end of 1998 saw him off smack, living with a new girlfriend and apparently embracing monogamy, and working in earnest on new material. Looking at him relaxing in the sunshine now, one marvels that his hair raising experiences haven’t left more of a mark. Tough and darkly handsome, his chiseled features show only a few lines, less than you’d expect for a 36 year old man. His athlete’s physique is hard and lean; with broad shoulders, narrow hips, and impressive musculature, he still looks like the competition class surfer he once was. He chopped off a foot or so of hair not

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long ago; the thick, almost black thatch is now just below his ears. Dark eyes clear and farsighted under strongly marked brows, his sculptured mouth resolute, he looks the picture of healthy living. His expression turns sardonic when told so. “Yeah, that’s always bothered people,” he informs me. “That I’ve never looked as much a wreck as they think I should. To be honest, apart from the obvious” here he grins evilly, “I’ve always had a pretty healthy lifestyle.” The mind boggles; does he mean he eats his vegetables along with shooting up? But somehow one doesn’t ask questions like that of Jeremy Kane. So how did Sex Gun end up back in the studio? Kane says slowly, “The one thing I never suffered from, during that period, was writer’s block. Through it all, I kept scribbling in my notebooks. Then I got to the point where I was reading over it, and thinking hmm, and picking up a guitar and playing around with certain lines, then rearranging them…about that time, Daniel was back out of the loony bin” (political correctness has never been part of Kane’s vocabulary) “and we started hanging out together, and doing what we’ve always done – playing music. Then Arik came back, tired of freezing his ass off in England, and we’re all, like, okay, guess we’re back in business.” After reuniting with a clean and sober Deal, the group got in touch with producer Tom Scott, with whom they had worked on their third record, “Try Dying.” Scott says he had no qualms about signing on with Sex Gun. “Despite their personal problems, they’ve always taken a very disciplined approach to their work,” he says. “If they’re going to do it at all, they’re going to do it right.” At the same time, he adds, he was relieved to see them apparently sane and well. When they started practice sessions, says Scott, they were working together with a renewed vigor that boded well for “Hurricane.” “There was a kind of creative electricity in the air. You knew this was going to be good.” “It felt like coming alive again,” recalls Kane. “As though I’d crawled out of a dark hole and felt sunlight on my face for the first time in years.” Jones says the process of recording was very fluid and dynamic. “It came more easily to us than it ever has before, and I think this is our best work.”

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Indeed, “After the Hurricane” resonates with vitality, the songs tight and well crafted, the energy unmistakable. Although some tracks, like “Shutdown,” have Sex Gun’s characteristic hard driving sass, there are also cuts such as “Time to Fly”, a wistful song about the need to move on. Another track, the urgently pulsing “Golden Girl,” has raised speculation about Kane’s love life. Is his current flame, blonde model Jaime Cage, the girl in question? How serious is their relationship? Kane answers obliquely. “I think it’s hard to define relationships in terms like serious. We’ve been together for some time now, but I don’t really try to predict the future with regard to these things.” But, he adds, the song wasn’t about anyone in particular. “It was more directed at a fantasy, a California archetype,” he says. “The surfer girl with salty skin and laughing eyes, you know?” The first single to be released is “Troubles of My Own,” a tuneful midtempo number which like their early hit “If I Could” is rife with angst and an almost painful honesty. Whatever his shortcomings, Jeremy Kane has never been afraid to lay it all out there. The title track is a storm of a song, opening with an ominously humming baseline. When da Silva’s guitar crackles into life, it cuts the air like a lightening strike. Kane’s distinctive vocals have never been better: he ranges from husky warmth to razor edged sharpness and back again, with a silky smooth intonation for the chorus:

After the hurricane/the chaos of destruction Could be all we need to breed/the hope of resurrection

It just may be that this time Sex Gun has weathered the storm for good.G

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Chapter 2

July, 1999

Slowly, her mind began the journey back to consciousness. Oh sleep, heavenly sleep! Finally, hours worth, uninterrupted, sound sleep, not just uneasy dozing. Instead of waking in a state of chronic exhaustion, she felt relaxed and rested. Almost purring with contentment, she stretched luxuriously… And came up abruptly against a warm, solid body. Eyes still shut, disoriented by this surprising discovery, her brain stopped short and tried to process the unexpected information. -A body. Next to me. In bed. -Do I have a boyfriend? -No. Then, with a rush, it came back, in jerky flashes like a badly edited film – meeting with Rachel, the conference, going out to celebrate. A nightclub on a neon strip. A party at a house up in the Hollywood Hills. A jam session. Dancing, flirting with men who seemed familiar because you’d seen them a hundred times in videos, in magazines, in concert. Drinking tequila. Bloody tequila, she thought. Some guys working on a song, arguing about the structure. She hadn’t been able to resist throwing in her two cents worth. The quick interest of the one who seemed to be the main songwriter, with his dark eyes and lazy smile. He made her sit down, and she had a hazy memory of talking for a long time about music, about 15

writing… And with a wave of heat that swept over her like a warm tide, her mind fast forwarded through to the more relevant part – long, slow kisses, his arms around her, an unfamiliar and heady feeling after so much time alone…the long hard muscles of his back under her hands, bare skin against bare skin…. Oh god, she thought, oh please, tell me I didn’t… She opened her eyes.

He felt her stir and stretch next to him, as he lay in a pleasantly half awake, half drowsing state, and instinctively turned towards her. And he felt her freeze, in palpable shock, as her body rolled against his. He propped himself up on one elbow, concerned, as her eyes snapped open and widened in dismay. He started to say something innocuous, like good morning, but she had already closed her eyes, uttered a low moan, rolled onto her other side with her back to him and was saying very softly, “oh, noooo…” A part of his mind registered automatic pleasure in the way the sheet draped over the curve of her hip, and his body warmed responsively, remembering on a visceral level the sensations of the night just past. The cognitive part of his brain was slow to awaken, but even at this point he registered that his passionately wanton lover of the night before appeared to be having a severe attack of morning after regret. He reached out and lightly touched her shoulder, and said, “Hey. Good morning.” She twisted around, regarding him with a sort of fascinated horror. “Umm. Hi,” she said. She sat up, holding the sheet across her chest, and began looking around the room. He knew this wasn’t going well. “Are you okay?” he asked, thinking, well, that’s a stupid thing to say. She seemed to agree. Sliding out of the bed and locating her stretchy black tube of a skirt on the floor, she stepped into it and slid it up her long legs, adjusting it at hip and thigh, and said, “Well, no, okay isn’t exactly the word that comes to mind.” Without looking at 16

him, she snatched up the matching bra top from the foot of the bed and donned it, contorting her arms behind her back to snap the closure. “What’s wrong?” he asked. She finally looked at him. “What’s wrong?” she said blankly. “Oh let’s see. What could be wrong? Oh yeah, I just woke up with a guy I don’t know, yeah, that would be it.” She added bitterly, under her breath, “Bloody tequila.” Oh no. That sounded ominous. Cautiously he said, “If I was wrong about this, I am very sorry, but you didn’t seem to be incapacitated last night.” She was looking under the bed. “Huh?” she said. “Oh no, it’s not like that. You don’t have to feel like you raped a drunk, or anything. It doesn’t make me incompetent, it makes me crazy.” Morosely, she muttered, apparently to herself, “Bloody psychotic stupid lunatic.” He was really wishing for some coffee, because he didn’t think he was keeping up all that well. “I’m not quite following,” he began, and she looked at him again, and interrupted, “I don’t do things like this. I was being smart. It wasn’t easy, but I was doing it, and now it’s come undone because last night somehow all the demons in my head got unleashed. And they’ve been locked up for ages, so of course they went on a complete rampage, and now I’m going to have the very devil of a time getting them back in their cages.” He couldn’t help but smile at that, and he said, “Your demons are a lot more attractive than mine.” “That’s what makes them so dangerous,” she said feelingly. He was thinking over what she’d said. “What do you mean, you don’t do things like this?” “Well, obviously!” she snapped. “I don’t sleep with men I don’t know. Actually,” she continued, “I don’t sleep with anyone.” Taken aback, he said, “I wouldn’t have thought you were the celibate type. Last night you seemed very – passionate.” An oddly bleak look crossed her face. “It’s more process of elimination than lifestyle of choice,” she said. “I’m terminally relationship challenged, and casual sex is too hazardous and anyway, it’s sort of like cotton candy – looks good, but makes you

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feel nauseous afterwards. So I was staying on my own, and it was working just fine. Until last night.” “So why last night?” He actually meant, why me? but didn’t want to come right out and say it. She raised her eyebrows. “Why are you a junkie?” she asked, rather shockingly and presumably rhetorically. “Why do you keep winding up back on heroin, after years away from it? It’s not like you don’t know what it does.” Her lips lifted slightly, in what might have been an ironic smile. “And it’s not like I didn’t know I was doing, it’s that I didn’t care. “ She stared into space, shut her eyes and shook her head, as if warding off the memory. Then she looked around the room again, and remarked, with a tinge of desperation, “Okay, I know I had more clothes.” Feeling rebuffed by her not-very-flattering response to their recent shared passion, and somewhat stung by her caustic reference to his history with drugs, he said shortly, “Try the pool.” “Oh. Right. Thanks.” She slid open the patio door, and padded out to the lounge chairs where their encounter had initiated. He watched her, remembering how those long, strong legs had twined around his, how her taut and slender torso had arched against his chest, how impossibly small she felt in his arms, and under him, and how wildly, hotly responsive she had been…he watched her sit down on the chaise and yank on her black tights, drop the sheer mesh lace dress over her head, and pick up her boots. She came back through the sliding door, and he asked, “Is this really so bad?” She shot him an incredulous look. “Oh, let’s see,” she said sarcastically. “I just (a) had sex with a stranger, who (b) has a decades long history of being an on and off junkie and a reputation of being pretty much a slut, which I don’t think qualifies as safe sex, and who (c) is married, or engaged, or something, which makes it terribly tacky, and who (d) is a rock star, which makes it horribly clichéd. So, yes,” she concluded, “ I think that adds up to pretty bloody awful.” He felt the blood rush to his head, and responses raced incoherently through his brain. He wanted to deny that he was a junkie, or a slut, although obviously he had been both, and given his history of relapse he supposed he couldn’t expect for a few years of clean living to wipe it all out. He wanted to tell her that he was

18

perfectly healthy and not a risk to her (and god damnit, they’d used protection regardless) and that while he had up until now had a girlfriend, he certainly wasn’t engaged or married. That she hadn’t been the slightest bit impressed with how he earned a living the night before, and it wasn’t fair to hold it against him now. He wanted to say that he thought she was a liar, because last night he had looked into her eyes, when he was inside her, and they had smiled at each other with the sheer delightful intimacy of it, and it felt like they had merged body and soul. And now she was acting like it hadn’t happened, like she hadn’t felt anything at all. But he couldn’t get any of that out. He was stung by her unflattering comparison of his company to a lethal drug with which he was all too familiar, he was hurt by her apparent rejection, and with a kind of dawning despair he was recognizing that she was evidently not sharing the feeling of completeness he had found with her last night, that sense that this was what had been missing, what he had never known and had always been looking for. And he couldn’t believe that he had been alone in that feeling, that it had been an illusion, and it was beginning to make him angry. “Who the hell do you think you are?” he snapped. She was sitting on the bed, shoving on a boot, as she looked sideways at him and said flatly, “No one. I’m nobody at all.” Before he could respond, she jammed on her other boot, and was on her feet and at the door, where she turned and said, her voice suddenly catching, “I’m sorry. I’m a mess. I didn’t mean to be so rude-” She made a small, helpless gesture. Then she gave him a sweet and misty smile, and said very softly, “Last night was lovely.” And as quickly as that, she was gone, and he was still sitting in bed, feeling stunned, listening to her heels clacking distantly on the marble floor of the foyer.

She was feeling kind of choky and emotional, still upset with herself for ending up here and suspecting that she wasn’t handling it any too well, as she detoured into the living room where she vaguely remembered discarding her jacket. The bass player, whose name she couldn’t remember, and another man cut from the same chiseled, surfjock mold, who looked vaguely familiar were sprawled 19

on the sofas, drinking coffee from takeout containers. She smiled politely and said hello as she scooped up her jacket and little black backpack from a chair, and added “Nice to have met you” for good measure on her way out. She noticed an alarm panel next to the massive front door, and hoped it wasn’t on, or she was about to shatter the peace of the neighborhood. Too bad these guys are so goddamn upscale, she thought, I bet there isn’t a bus stop for miles. She turned the bolt, and yanked on the door, which didn’t move. She was trying the lock in the other direction, when she heard “Hey! Where do you think you’re going?” and turned to find Jeremy, naked and unselfconscious, striding into the foyer and glaring at her. He caught her by the arm, hauling her easily away from the door and started to say, “Look, you can’t-” when voices, light and female, coming from the other side of the house, caught both their attention. Jeremy said under his breath “oh shit,” just as the bass player (Jack? Erik?) and the surfjock wandered in from the living room, and a very pretty and young blonde came through the dining room, accompanied by a darker, plainer girl who had “best friend” written all over her. Zanna had a feeling things were about to get terribly awkward. She was right. The blonde stopped in her tracks, with the friend almost bumping into her, both with the same horrified expression on their faces. You couldn’t blame them, really, Zanna thought. Here she was, undoubtedly looking like something the cat had dragged in after a hard night on the tiles, with uncombed hair and unlaced boots, and there was Jeremy, stark naked, still gripping her bicep and looking pissed off. The bass player was shuffling around uncertainly, looking like he’d prefer to slope off but couldn’t (this was his house, she remembered belatedly) and the surfjock just looked interested. The blonde’s face contorted, and she stared at Jeremy, her eyes welling up, and said “You…you bastard!” in heartrending tones. Zanna deduced that this must be the girlfriend. Had she been less cynical, she might have felt guilty, but as it was, she just wanted to escape. Everyone started talking at once. Jeremy: “Jaime. I’m sorry,” in a tight voice that didn’t sound overly contrite.

20

Best friend: “You asshole.” Bass player: “Maybe we should fix some coffee. Anyone want coffee?” Jaime, really crying now: “How could you? how could you do this?” Surfjock, looking at Zan: “You need a ride somewhere?” She seized on that thankfully. “Yes! Anywhere’s fine, let’s go,” she said, jerking her arm out of Jeremy’s grasp. He turned towards her, seemingly about to say something, but the blond wailed, “Who the fuck is she?” and he was distracted. Zanna slid away from him as the surfjock twisted the locks around efficiently and politely held the door for her. She couldn’t think of anything to say to the rest of the assemblage, so she slipped past the surfjock as he said a blanket “Later, dude” and they beat it out of there. He had the inevitable Harley Davidson, but at that point she didn’t care: she caught up the long diagonal side of her dress and knotted it high on her thigh, then bent over and tied the laces of her boots. Shrugging into her jacket, she fished an elastic tie out of a pocket and looped her hair into a ponytail, then handed her backpack to the surfjock to stuff into the saddlebag, and accepted in return a pair of sunglasses. “Great, let’s get out of here, “ she said. He grinned at her, and held out his hand. “I’m Kaoru,” he said. “Zanna,” she replied, shaking. “Let’s go.” She glanced back over her shoulder at the house. “So how do you know Jeremy?” he asked. Zanna rolled her eyes. “The phrase ‘horrible mistake’ comes to mind,” she replied. “Now, can we get out of here?” They roared down the twisting canyon road. Zan normally hated being a passenger, but now she just wrapped her arms around her rescuer’s waist and ducked her head down against his shoulder. At the stop sign at the bottom of the hill, he twisted around and said, “Where do you want to go?” “Umm…is there a bus stop around here?” she asked. He laughed, not taking that seriously at all. “Are you hungry? Want to get some breakfast?” Oh well, why not? She had just slept with a rocker, she might as well have breakfast with a movie star. (She had finally recognized him when he told her his unusual name).

21

“Sure,” she said.

Back at the house, Arik, the bass player, had left Jaime and Jeremy to teary recriminations on one side and stony self control on the other, and forcibly borne the Best Friend into the kitchen where she was telling him, like, she couldn’t drink coffee because it was full of toxins, and did he have any green tea? (He didn’t). Arik thought wearily that it might not be a bad thing if they all quit seeing these younger girls. Maybe it was time to grow up a little and meet some women. That Zan girl…woman…whatever, had seemed like good company, very sharp and a sense of humor as well, although it looked like she and Jeremy weren’t doing so great this morning. He offered the Best Friend a Perrier, which she accepted with reluctance, because, like, the bubbles really aren’t good for your blood balance. Arik felt sorry for Jeremy, who was definitely in for a bad time over the impending break-up. He and Jaime had been a rather high profile couple, and much had been made in the press over Jeremy’s conversion to monogamy. Arik was pretty sure the vipers would like his fall from grace even better. He never doubted that the relationship was beyond being patched up. Shrewdly, he thought that Jaime would have allowed herself to be soothed eventually into forgiveness – but judging from Jeremy’s tight jawed demeanor, he wasn’t likely to be doing any soothing. Arik suspected that last night hadn’t been a casual impulse on Jeremy’s part, that he had really been knocked for a loop by this Zanna girl. Woman, he corrected himself. Whatever. Jeremy looked really pissed off when she left with Kaoru, although Arik personally thought it was the best thing. Nothing was likely to get resolved any better with Zanna standing there, so thoroughly and exotically alien to her southern California surroundings in that stretchy black thing and motorcycle boots, disheveled with tousled hair, heavy eyes and lips that looked slightly bruised and swollen, in a way that suggested a three hour kiss…all in all, she had the indefinable look of someone who’s spent the better part of the night making love. Arik gave a snort of laughter, drawing a disapproving look from Best Friend. Of course, it didn’t help that Jeremy was wearing

22

nothing but tattoos.

23

Chapter 3

To: [email protected] From: [email protected] Re: thanks and help

Kaoru, hello: First, let me say thank you so much for the surfing lesson - I had an absolutely wonderful time. I’m planning on going to Hawaii for a vacation soon, and hopefully I won’t have forgotten all you taught me. Secondly, I need to get in touch with the guy whose house we were at - I don’t know his name. I’m missing a work-in- progress notebook, and I’m sure that must be where I left it. Can you help me get a message to him? Regards, Zan

To: [email protected] From: [email protected] Re: problem here

Zanna, how nice to hear from you! I wasn’t sure you’d get in touch. Hey, come back to L.A. and I’ll make sure you get all the surfing your heart desires. Hawaii’s great too, some excellent breaks there. When are you going? About your notebook…there may be a slight complication. 24

You did leave it at Arik’s place, but Jeremy found it. He’s already called me, wanting to know how to get in touch with you. I told him I’d have to check with you first, that I didn’t think I should give out your email address without your okay. He didn’t like that much. I could be wrong here, but since you referred to him as a “horrible mistake” I thought you might be avoiding him. Let me know how you want me to handle this, okay? I’m sure I haven’t heard the last from Jeremy. Hugs and kisses, Kaoru p.s. what’s jumpcut? I mean, I know what it means in film, but why is that your address?

You’re right, I’d just as soon not talk to Jeremy. Would you mind awfully if he gave it to you, and I could give you my mailing address to send it on? I’m sorry for the trouble… Hawaii’s hopefully for Christmas and Jump Cut is a band I’m in. Thanks, Z

Zanna, bad news: I don’t mind at all, and it’s no trouble, but Jeremy won’t hand it over. He says you can call him at 213/426-7788. I didn’t know you were in a band! Cool. What do you play? Love, K

What?! I don’t want to talk to him! What’s he doing, holding my notebook hostage??? Tell him to hand it over, NOW!!!! Don’t know if you mean what kind of music or what do I play, but I’m guitar and vocals and we do a combo of original and covers - I guess you’d call it alternative rock, genre-wise. Love, Z

No go on your notebook, and Jeremy is really pissed at 25

both of us now. Feel free to tell me it’s none of my business, but what’s with you two??

I CANNOT BELIEVE THIS!!!! HE’S mad at ME???? I don’t know what his problem is (and I’m afraid I kind of made it into your business by asking you to be a go between, and I am so sorry he’s mad at you now - I hope you weren’t best friends). I met him for the first time that night (which I realize makes me look like a slut, I can only say it was an aberration) and it ended badly (well, you were there) and I still don’t want to talk to him. I can’t believe the nerve he’s got. Thanks for trying.

Zanna darling, you don’t seem the least like a slut to me. We’ve all done things that didn’t turn out so hot, so don’t beat yourself up over this one. I’ve known Arik Jones for years (that’s whose house we were at, he’s the bass player for Sex Gun, Jeremy’s their singer, if you didn’t know) and Jeremy and I used to go surfing occasionally. He’s very good, competition class in fact, a lot better than I am. I guess we’re friends, but I hang out with Arik more. Jeremy is not the easiest guy to get along with. So don’t feel like you wrecked a beautiful relationship. I’m sure he’ll get over it, anyway. Sorry I wasn’t able to be of more help. Can we still be friends? Love, K

But of course we can! Love to hear from you, anytime. I do know who Sex Gun is (are?) generally, just not details like names. I have to admit, I didn’t recognize Jeremy when I met him, what with the haircut and the tattoos covered up. I know that sounds stupid, when you think that we actually do a couple of their songs, since they’re one of our drummer’s favorite bands. Speaking of, we start recording a CD soon, 26

which is kind of exciting. We’re not exactly professionals- I mean, we all have real jobs, etc, but we got this deal after doing MTV’s cover band competition. (That’s why I was in LA, to get the papers to sign from the label). Even if we never sell a single CD, it’s still a kick. Love, Z

I will definitely buy your CD. Did you win the competition?

No, they hated us. We don’t make any effort to sound like the original. Also, we were doing Red Hot Chili Peppers, and I think they were disappointed that we left our clothes on. The guys in my band didn’t even tell me they’d sent in an entry, until we made the cut and had to show up for the competition. I would have voted against it for sure. But it just goes to show that you never know, because while the crowd/voters didn’t like us, some of the MTV people did, and they sort of passed the word. Next thing ya know, we’ve got a record deal. Go figure.

Z! Major development! Jeremy has given in, and I have the notebook, so what’s your address? Surf’s been great, went out all last week. Wish you were here! Start filming new flick soon, so I’m off to somewhere on location in Oregon, they tell me. Hugs and kisses, K

Hey, Z, did you get your package yet?

Kaoru, thanks, I did. Only problem is, what he gave you isn’t my notebook. It’s one of his. So I guess I’ll either have to break down and call him, or write it off. Hellhellhellhellhell….

27

Note included with red leather notebook:

I’m not giving it back until you talk to me. But fair is fair. I’ve seen yours, I’ll show you mine. My number is 213/426-7788. If you can’t bring yourself to call before we go on tour, you can reach me via ARS Management, 888/456-9078 after that. G G G z–œ•‹“•ŒSGhœŽœš›SGX```G v•ŒG›–G~ˆ›ŠaGGqœ”—Gjœ›G G t{} šG™ŒŠŒ•›GŠ–Œ™G‰ˆ•‹GŠ–”—Œ››–•G‹™ŒžG›ŒGœšœˆ“G ˆšš–™›”Œ•›G –G uG z •ŠG žˆ••ˆ‰ŒšSG ‰œ›G ˆ”–•Žš›G ›ŒG ‰– ‰ˆ•‹šG žˆšG –•ŒG ™Œˆ“G ›™Œˆ›UG G q|twG j|{SG ˆ•G –‹‹‰ˆ““G –œ™š–”ŒG ™–”G t••Œˆ—–“šSG Š–Œ™Œ‹G ›ŒG yŒ‹G o–›G j“G wŒ——Œ™šG –™G ›ŒG Š–”—Œ››–•SG ‰œ›G ›G žˆšG ˆ›G ›ŒG —ˆ™› G ˆ›Œ™žˆ™‹šG ›ˆ›G ›Œ G ™Œˆ““ G š–žŒ‹G ›Œ™G š›œUG G w“ˆ •ŽG ŒŒ™ ›•ŽG™–”GzŒŸGnœ•G›–G›ŒGzœ—™Œ”ŒšSG›Œ G”ˆ‹ŒG›G ˆ““Gš–œ•‹G™ŒšGˆ•‹G‹š›•Š›Œ“ G›Œ™G–ž•UG G qœ”—Gjœ›GšGŠ–”—–šŒ‹G–Gˆ••ˆGtˆ™›•SGZ[SG–•G–Šˆ“šG ˆ•‹G ™ ›”G Žœ›ˆ™SG tˆ››G ~“‹Œ™SG Y\SG –Šˆ“šV“Œˆ‹G Žœ›ˆ™SG h•‹ G t›ŠŒ““SG Z]SG ‰ˆššSG ˆ•‹G kˆ‹G ~Œ™SG ZXSG –•G ‹™œ”šUGG {Œ G ˆ‹”›G ›ˆ›G —™–™G ›–G ›ŒG t{}G ŽŽSG ”–š›G –G ›Œ™G ˆ——Œˆ™ˆ•ŠŒšGˆ‹G‰ŒŒ•Gˆ›GˆG{ž•Gj›ŒšGŠ–ŒŒG‰ˆ™UG G |•“’ŒG›ŒG™Œš›G–G›ŒGŒ•›™ SGqœ”—Gjœ›G”ˆ’ŒšG•–GŒ–™›G ›–G “––’G –™G š–œ•‹G “’ŒG ›ŒG‰ˆ•‹šG›Œ G Š–Œ™UG G {Œ™G –•“ G ™ŒšŒ”‰“ˆ•ŠŒG ›–G ›ŒG j“G wŒ——Œ™šG ˆ•‹G zŒŸG nœ•G ž–œ“‹G ˆ——Œˆ™G ›–G ‰ŒG ›Œ™G Œ•Œ™Ž G “ŒŒ“SG ˆ•‹G ˆG š”“ˆ™G ‰œSG š›™——Œ‹G‹–ž•Gˆ•‹GšŒŸŒ‹Gœ—G“––’UGGqœ”—Gjœ› šG–Šˆ“š›G šGŒ”ˆ“ŒSG–žŒŒ™SGžŠG”ˆ’ŒšG–™Gˆ•G•›Œ™Œš›•ŽG›žš›UGG ˆ••ˆGtˆ™›• šGœš’ G™Œ•‹›–•G–G4 {ˆš›ŒG›ŒGwˆ•5 GšG šŒˆ™•Ž“ G šŒŸ G ˆ•‹G Š–œ“‹G ”ˆ’ŒG ˆG ”ˆš–Šš›G –œ›G –G ˆ• –•ŒUGG~Œ•GšŒGŽ–ŒšG4 |•‹Œ™G›ŒGi™‹ŽŒS5 G› šG“ŒššG 28

–GˆGšˆ‹G“ˆ”Œ•›G›–GšŒ“G‹Œš›™œŠ›–•G›ˆ•GˆGš“ˆ—G‹Œ“Œ™Œ‹G •GˆG”–”Œ•›G–GŒ™ G›–œŽG“–ŒUGGh•‹Gž“ŒG•–G–•ŒGˆšG ŒŒ™G šˆ‹G qŒ™Œ” G rˆ•ŒG “ˆŠ’šG šŒŸœˆ“G —–›Œ•Š G •G ‹Œ“Œ™•ŽG œ—G zŒŸG nœ• šG Š“ˆššŠG 4 k–G €–œG ~ˆ••ˆG r•–žf5 G ˆ••ˆ šG š”–’ G –ŠŒG ›ˆ’ŒšG –•G ˆG ›ˆ•›ˆ“¡•ŽG ˜œˆ“› G›ˆ›G›œ™•šGrˆ•Œ šG“•ŒšG•›–GˆG—Œ™š–•ˆ“G•›ˆ›–•G ›–G›Œ”—›ˆ›–•UGGG G m–™G›ŒGwŒ——Œ™š G4 zœŠ’G” Gršš5 Gtˆ™›•Gˆ•‹Gtˆ››G ~“‹Œ™G šˆ™ŒG –Šˆ“šSG ˆ•‹G ‹–• ›G ŒŒ•G ‰–›Œ™G ›–G š›Š’G Š“–šŒ“ G›–G›ŒG–™Ž•ˆ“G“ ™ŠšGGO4 zœŠ’G›šH5 Gtˆ™›•Gš•ŽšG –œ›G ‰“›Œ“ PG ˆšG ›Œ G Šˆ™ŒŒ•G ›™–œŽG ›G ˆ›G ›–—G š—ŒŒ‹SG Š–”‰••ŽG ™ˆžG œ™ŽŒ•Š G ž›G ˆG ’•‹G –G ™–““Š’•ŽG —“ˆ œ“•ŒššUG G ~Œˆ™•ŽG ˆG ‰™ŒG š™›G ›ˆ›G “––’šG “’ŒG ›G Ž–›G ŠˆœŽ›G •G ˆG š™Œ‹‹Œ™G ˆ•‹G Š–”‰ˆ›G ˆ›ŽœŒšG ˆ“G œ•¡——Œ‹G ˆ•‹G –“‹Œ‹G ‹–ž•G –•GŒ™G “Œˆ•G —šSG ˆ••ˆG tˆ™›•G šG ‰–›G ›–œŽG ˆ•‹G Œ”••ŒSG šˆ—Œ“ G ˆ•‹G š›™–•ŽUG G oŒ™G ›ˆœ›“ G šŠœ“—›Œ‹G ‰–‹ G šG ˆšG ™Œ›•ŽG ˆšG Œ™G ‹ˆ™’“ G ›ŒŸ›œ™Œ‹G –Šˆ“šUGG~“‹Œ™SGŠ“ˆ‹G•GŠˆ”–šGˆ•‹G™Œ‹GŽG›–—Gš•Œˆ’Œ™šSG ˆ•‹G ‹š—“ˆ •ŽG ‰–›G ˆ‹”™ˆ‰“ŒG ”œšŠœ“ˆ›œ™ŒG ˆ•‹G ˆG ›™œ“ G ž–•‹Œ™œ“G‹™ˆŽ–•G›ˆ››––SGšGŒ™G—Œ™ŒŠ›G”ˆ“ŒGŠ–œ•›Œ™—ˆ™›UGG {Œ G ˆŒG š–”ŒG š›™’•ŽG ”–ŒšSG •Š“œ‹•ŽG ˆG ’•‹G –G ›ˆ•Ž–G ‹–•ŒG ˆŠ•ŽG ŒˆŠG –›Œ™SG ž›G ›Œ™G Žœ›ˆ™šG ‰ˆ™ŒG •ŠŒšGˆ—ˆ™›GˆšG›Œ Gšˆšˆ GˆŠ™–ššG›ŒGš›ˆŽŒUG
~“‹Œ™G ‹–ŒšG “Œˆ‹G –Šˆ“šG –•G šŒŒ™ˆ“G š–•ŽšSG ˆ•‹G šG –ŠŒG ˆšG ˆG ™ˆš— G Œ‹ŽŒG ›ˆ›SG ˆ“–•ŽG ž›G š–”ŒG ‹™•ŽG Žœ›ˆ™G “Š’šSG ”ˆ’ŒG ›Œ™G œ•“’Œ“ G Š–Œ™G –G ›ŒG zœ—™Œ”ŒšG š–•ŽG4 yŒ“ŒŠ›–•š5 GˆŠ›œˆ““ Gž–™’GˆšGŽ™œ•ŽŒG™–Š’UGG{ŒG ž–“ŒG ‰ˆ•‹G —Œ™–™”šG ž›G ˆ•G •ŒŠ›–œšG Œ•Œ™Ž G ›ˆ› šG ˆ——Œˆ“•ŽSG ‰œ›G › šG ›ŒG ›ž–G –Šˆ“š›VŽœ›ˆ™G —“ˆ Œ™šG ž–G “›G ›ŒG —Œ™–™”ˆ•ŠŒG •›–G ˆ•–›Œ™G ™Œˆ“”UG G {ŒG ‰ˆ•‹G –•“ G ‹‹GˆGŒžG–™Ž•ˆ“šGˆ›G›ŒG—–š›GŠ–”—Œ››–•G—ˆ™› SG‰œ›G–•ŒG •G—ˆ™›Šœ“ˆ™SG4 s–ŒGšGˆG[GsŒ››Œ™G~–™‹S5 G•‹Šˆ›ŒšG›ˆ›G ›Œ GŠˆ•Gž™›ŒGˆšGžŒ““GˆšG—“ˆ UGG~›G›šG’•‹G–G›ˆ“Œ•›SG ‹–• ›G ŒŸ—ŒŠ›G ›Œ”G ›–G Ž–G ‰ˆŠ’G ›–G ›ˆ›G Š–ŒŒG ‰ˆ™G –™G 29

“–•ŽUG G Zanna tried to think of how a conversation with Jeremy Kane might go, but her mind boggled at the idea of calling him. Despondently, she decided she might have to write off her notebook. She eyed the notebook he had sent her, sitting innocently on her kitchen counter. She hadn’t really looked at it. It didn’t seem right, somehow. Although that was stupid, since he obviously meant for her to read it or he wouldn’t have sent it. (And he was obviously reading hers, which made her cringe – she didn’t think she wanted anyone to know her that well). She wondered briefly why he was making such a big deal of this, but her mind skittered away from what felt like dangerous territory. She just couldn’t bring herself to call him. She felt sick at the mere idea of dialing. She might have been able to talk to him if she had happened to run into him in person, but she could not call him. She did need to call her band, however. She punched in Andy’s number, and when he answered, said, “Hey, I’m back.” “All right! So how did it go?” “Well…fine, I guess. Good, really,” she said, trying to get some conviction into it. “I’ve got the contracts and everything is ready to go. We should all get together, and go over it, though.” “Today?” “Okay.” She hesitated. “Andy, do you still have that ‘Behind the Music’ tape you were playing at the party, before we went to New York?” “Think so. Why?” “Oh, nothing really. I’d kind of like to see it again. Just curious about something…” her voice trailed off. “I’ll look for it. Listen, Matt’s working at the caf this afternoon, so how about if we meet there? I’ll call Dave. Three o’clock work for you?” “Sure.” Andy went on, “So, did you have fun? See any famous people in Hollywood?” “Actually, Hollywood is pretty seedy,” she told him. “Although it was kind of fun to see places like the Whiskey, and the Viper Room, because of reading about them.” 30

“What, no movie stars?” “Uh, well…yeah, I guess I did see one. I met Kaoru Rhodes. The guy from that sci-fi movie where we couldn’t figure out what was virtual and what was real?” “Wow! How’d you meet him? Was he nice?” She could hear Andy shifting the phone into a more comfortable position. “He was extremely nice, and not as spacey as you’d think,” she said. “So you actually got to talk to him?” “Um, yeah. Quite a long time, in fact.” “How’d that happen?” he asked curiously. “I would have thought those movie star types were inaccessible.” Too late, Zanna realized this conversation was headed into awkward territory. Editing out several chapters of How She Met a Movie Star, she said, “I saw him at the beach.” Technically true, she thought. “He sort of took me surfing.” “No kidding!” Andy was impressed. “I didn’t know you could surf.” “I can now.” Zanna felt like she was getting bogged down, one little step at a time, in something that was likely to lead to a need for further explanations that she really, really didn’t want to make. “I need to get going,” she said. “I’ll see you all at three.” She rang off. Andy hung up thoughtfully. Zan definitely sounded weirded out. He wondered what had really gone on in California.

Zanna thumped her head against the kitchen counter, and groaned. How could she tell her guys that in addition to negotiating a good contract for a neophyte band that wasn’t sure what it was doing, she also appeared to have started a feud with the frontman for one of the most influential, and most notorious, bands on the alternative rock scene? She was merciless in admitting to herself that what she had done was incredibly stupid, but wouldn’t you think that what usually happened is the guy forgot all about you, as soon as you were out the door, if not before? She sighed. She supposed it was the fates, punishing her for such carelessness. Or just having a good laugh. She decided to try and de-stress before the coffee shop meeting, so

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she grabbed her gym bag and headed for the Y. Running on the treadmill, listening to her headset radio, she tried to put things in perspective as she jogged along to Oasis. Okay, so she was in a band. That in itself was weird, given that a year ago she didn’t play an instrument and she had never sung in public. These things kind of sneak up on you, she mused. Where did it start? With writing, she supposed. When she suddenly started writing what seemed to be song lyrics, instead of journal entries, or essays. Sitting at the bar at the coffee shop and scribbling. The Foo Fighters came on, and she speeded up the treadmill in time to Dave Grohl’s hard driving guitar lick. And that was how she had met Matt, because he worked at the caf, and he was curious about what she was always working on. They had started talking, in a desultory way at first, and then really having conversations. Eventually she showed him one of her fragments (what would eventually become “Love is a 4 Letter Word”) and he liked it. They ended up sitting down together with his guitar, and working out a melody. Then he started teaching her guitar, over her objections that she was totally lacking in musical talent – not really to play, he said, but so you can write more easily. A songwriter ought to know some chords, he argued, and she gave in and started fooling around with it. Before long they were jamming together regularly, redoing covers in their own developing style, working on their own songs. Then Andy, who owned a music store, came in the caf one day when they were trying to come up with chords for “Just Say Go.” And David, one of Matt’s neighbors, started sitting in on their jams, which somehow turned into practices, and then they were playing at the Black Dog. Just for fun…and before you knew it, she thought, it was the MTV competition, and now it was “going into the studio” and discussing videos…yikes. An awful lot had happened in a short period of time. No wonder she had gone a little crazy. It’s not that big a deal, she told herself. I can deal with this. I screwed up, and did something stupid and impulsive that I shouldn’t have, but it’s not like it’s a federal offense….the important thing is that this band gig is a once in a lifetime thing, and we have to take advantage of the opportunity we’ve got. She had been so deep in thought that she hadn’t really noticed what

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the radio had been playing. And so it came as a real shock to suddenly register Jeremy Kane’s distinctive voice in her ear, intoning, “twisting, turning/ writhing, burning/ I will find my way to you.” She stumbled, caught herself, heard “…longing, yearning/and when I do, I’ll forever be in you” and faltered again. But it was the chorus that did her in. His voice was low, clear and intimate:

“And deep inside you know/I won’t ever let you go.”

That stopped her dead in her tracks, and she promptly fell off the back of the treadmill.

Zanna was the last one to arrive at the caf, which was good because she particularly wanted to avoid a tete a tete with Matt. David and Andy had staked out their usual corner, David sprawled out on the couch with its seriously sprung springs, and Andy in the battered velvet wing chair. Zanna felt a rush of affection as she sent them a smile on her way to the counter: we don’t look like a rock band, she thought. David had evidently come from his studio. His baggy gray t-shirt was liberally smeared with paint and a flaky white substance that Zanna surmised to be plaster. Andy, in tweed jacket and wire rims, looked like a professor. In an attempt to bolster her flagging spirits, Zanna had changed into one of her favorite outfits: an ocean blue silk shift with side slits high enough to be interesting. On the other hand, Matt did look like a potential rock star, with his long brown hair pulled high in a ponytail, emphasizing the strong bones of his face. Silver studs ringed one ear, and his muscular arms bore the de rigueur tattoos. A sudden flash of memory- his arms, the armband style tattoos on his biceps, the way his arm flexed as he held her back from the door, the feel of his hand gripping her tightly…what was that tattoo, anyway, she thought irrelevantly. Something kind of thorny looking, she remembered… Matt pushed a steaming cup of chai across the counter, then leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Welcome back from lalaland,” he said. She felt like bursting into tears. He called out to his coworker, “Alison, can you manage for a while?” and at her nod,

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ducked under the counter to join Zan. “So,” said David, making room for Zanna on the couch, as Matt reversed a straight back chair and straddled it, his arms crossed on the back. “What have you got for us?” “Contracts,” she replied, pulling them out of her pack with a flourish. “Which you should all read before you sign,” she added severely. They ignored her. David signed first, looking up at her over his horn rims. “Tell us about it, ” he invited. She sighed. “You lot are hopeless.” Andy said easily, “What’s the good of having a lawyer in your band if you can’t use her expertise?” She outlined it for them, noting that at least Matt was looking over the forms. Probably humoring her, she thought, but bless him anyway. He raised his eyes suddenly and met hers gravely, and her heart plummeted again. God, she felt like such a slut. Sternly she reminded herself that she and Matt weren’t, and they were never going to be, it wasn’t like she had cheated on him, for crying out loud…resolutely she dragged her mind back to business and told them what Rachel had said about recording, and making videos. Matt grinned suddenly, and said, “This is so cool. Just like a real band,” and they all laughed at that, but it was true, they felt like conspirators pulling something off. “So tell us everything,” David was saying. “Andy says you were hanging out with movie stars and shit.” “Oh no, not really. Although Rachel did to take me to a club where we saw some people she said were in one of those horror flicks, Shriek no. 115, or whatever, and we went to a party where there were a lot of music people, but I didn’t recognize many of them – I think a lot were studio musicians, and techies. But I did see one of the Foo Fighters – not Grohl, the blonde guy,” she offered. “So what about Kaoru Rhodes?” Andy asked. “You met him, right?” The others looked interested, since Kaoru Rhodes made some pretty decent movies. “Yeah, I did meet him, he’s really nice,” said Zan. “Was he at the club, or the party?” David wanted to know. “Uh…neither, actually. I….um…met him at a house…” She paused, frantically searching for a way of changing the subject. “Whose house?” persisted David. She wanted to kill him.

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“Arik Jones’ place,” she said flatly, unable to think of any way to avoid it. “From Sex Gun? Wow, Z, you met him?” “Not exactly. I mean, I sort of ran into him, but I was leaving…” Her voice trailed off. They were all looking at her expectantly. She tried to think of an innocuous way out of this. Starting over, she improvised “with Kaoru – he asked me out to breakfast-” Too late, she realized where that led, and stumbled to a standstill. Smiling broadly, Andy said, “Out with it, Zanna! You may as well come clean and tell us. Exactly what kind of trouble did you get into in LA?” She groaned. Despairingly she said, “No. I can’t. It’s awful.” “Oh christ, just tell us!” said Matt. She dropped forward, arms on knees and head on arms, and said in a muffled voice, “I was really, really stupid.” “And?” said David encouragingly. She sat up, and said flatly, “I drank too much tequila and slept with a rock star, okay? Satisfied?” “Were you?” murmured David. She glared at him. “So who was it?” prodded Andy. Zanna winced, and told them. “Jeremy Kane?” Matt stared at her. “My god, Z, were you out of your mind?” She snapped, “Well, obviously!” “I mean – isn’t he a heroin addict?” Matt went on. “Isn’t that kind of dangerous?” “Tell me something I don’t know.” David said thoughtfully, “I think he’s been clean for a while-” but Matt disregarded this and said, “And isn’t he a psycho-” Zanna said unhappily, “Apparently. In fact, I’ve got a bit of a problem here.” She recounted the saga of her notebook. Matt was shaking his head. “You know, Z, I’m all in favor of you falling off your chaste little wagon, just on general principle, but Jeremy Kane…couldn’t you at least have gone for Kaoru Rhodes?” Suddenly struck by a thought, he said, “Or did you…” “No!” she yelled. David said consolingly, “Look at it this way, it could have been worse.” “How?” Matt asked, rather sourly.

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“She could have slept with Trent Reznor. Scott Weiland. Anthony Kiedis,” offered David. Zanna threw a contract at him. Andy looked interested. “How is Anthony Kiedis worse than Jeremy Kane?” “Well, Jeremy Kane’s pretty down to earth, not all Southern California New Age…” “Jeremy Kane’s a fucking felon!” interjected Matt. “That was a long time ago, I think he was like eighteen or something. Give the guy a break,” said David largely. “And at least Sex Gun never made a really goddamn depressing record, or kept pulling out of shows.” “That still doesn’t make Kane preferable,” Andy objected. “If Z’s going to be stalked by a rock star, I’d rather it was someone without a rap sheet.” “I’d rather it was Mick Jagger,” said Matt gloomily. David hooted. “He’s old enough to be her father!” “Exactly,” said Matt. Andy said, “Look, let’s go over to my place and watch that ‘Behind the Music’ thing on Sex Gun again. Better the devil you know…we can get a pizza.”

Zanna hadn’t paid much attention to the band biography videos Andy had playing on his VCR at their pre-MTV gig celebration. She hadn’t registered much more than all these people seemed to have a lot of personal problems, most of them did a lot of drugs, and Anthony Kiedis looked pretty good in a tube sock. Now, though, sitting down in Andy’s living room with the rest of Jump Cut, she got the full effect, and rapidly lost her appetite for the pizza they’d ordered. She had to admit, the show on Sex Gun was extremely well done, a mixture of old and new footage, still shots, interviews, with a narrator tying it all together, and their music often playing in the background. It went through the band’s early years, to their present resurgence. There were segments on the band’s controversial material, including their songs (Arik Jones: “It seems pretty tame stuff now, but I think when we did it, blatant sexual references were considered more shocking.” Jeremy: “I write about sex because it’s one of the most fascinating human endeavors there is.” Quick,

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wicked grin. “Or maybe just because I think about it a lot. But what I find really striking is its contradictory nature – how it’s this incredibly intimate, personal way of relating to another human being, yet can leave you feeling completely alone and alienated”) their live performances (Daniel da Silva: “Who knew you could get arrested for wearing a jock strap?” Narrator: “Never mind the jockstraps, Jeremy Kane also went the full monty on a few memorable occasions.” Jeremy: “Must have been a phase I was going through. It seems kind of funny, now. But I quit doing it when I realized a lot of other people were getting naked – it had lost its distinction, you know?”) and some of their visual depictions (Narrator: the album cover for Down & In created quite a stir, as the band posed naked, with body parts strategically arranged so that one man’s shoulder screened another’s privates. Still, it was more revealing than the public was used to.” Arik: “We thought it was a cool picture.” Johnny Deal: “For some reason, that started rumors that we were gay.”) It also covered their legendary disputes with their former management team (Manager: “Jeremy Kane is a talented, good looking sonofabitch with a vicious temper.” Arik: “We reached a point with them where we just didn’t see eye to eye”) and record company (Record executive: “They were a bunch of surf bums with an arrogant, screw you attitude to everything and everyone.” Arik: “There were some creative differences, so we parted ways.”) There were references to their inability to get along with others, as evidenced by an argument with another band at Lollapalooza, which escalated into an all out brawl (Jeremy: “Everyone had ingested way too many chemicals.” Johnny: “They started it.” Daniel: “I think those other guys were just trying to be macho, and thought there’d be some pushing and shoving and that would be it, but you don’t want to bluff like that with Jeremy, he doesn’t get it – and the rest of us have to back him up.” Arik: “Somewhere out there is a report card on us, that probably says ‘Does not play well with others.’” Guy from other band: “Jeremy Kane is a complete psycho.”) Although the show was definitely about the whole band, there was a lot of individual focus on Jeremy. The narrator noted that Jeremy was reticent about his childhood and adolescence (Jeremy:

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“It was a normal, dysfunctional childhood. It sucked”) and that as far as the public knows, his life apparently began in his midteens, when he began to garner attention on several fronts: he was winning surfing competitions regularly, competing with some success in motocross racing, and formed the band Sex Gun. A few surfers gave sound bites (“He was awesome, man”) as did a former motocross competitor (“Jeremy went all out, with a complete disregard for personal safety. Usually, he either crashed, or placed.”) The drugs were dealt with in unvarnished fashion, and Jeremy himself was surprisingly open about it. (“I started messing with heroin when I wasn’t much more than a kid, but it wasn’t until later that I became an addict. It’s strange stuff: it’s got a kind of allure to it, that walk on the dark side, the competition between the blackest part of your soul, and the part of you that knows better. And I can’t say, now, that I’m cured. I’m well, yeah, I’d say that, but not cured. I don’t have any impulse to use now, and haven’t for a long time, but it’s a mistake to ever count your demons out – they’ll rise up and slap you around, just to teach you some respect.”) There were also allusions to his apparent inability to sustain relationships. One ex-girlfriend, a well known model, said, “Jeremy can be very charming, but he doesn’t grasp or doesn’t care about the conventions that govern relationships.” Another woman, an actress who had dated him briefly, said, “Jeremy just doesn’t get it. Most of the time he can’t relate to women except on a sexual level.” A member of another rock band, who’d toured with Sex Gun in the early 90s, said, “They were all pretty wild, and Kane’s no angel, that’s for sure. Believe me, he’s f**ked his share of backstage ass. He’s done it right next to me, on one occasion.” Jeremy himself didn’t have much to say on this issue, beyond “I’ve done some things that I certainly wouldn’t do now, but you live and learn.” There was also a brief clip showing him with his current girlfriend, the young blonde model Zanna had seen at the house, at some awards event, and the narrator commented on the apparent seriousness of this latest relationship (as evidenced by the fact that it had lasted over a year). But by then, even Matt could see why Zanna had been attracted. Jeremy came across as intelligent, well spoken and personable, with an engaging honesty, flashes of often self deprecating humor, and a

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refreshing lack of egotism. The last part of the video was more upbeat, concentrating on “After the Hurricane,” and the newfound focus and apparent mental health of the band. The word “maturity” was used several times. Sex Gun were shown in the recording studio, doing the song “Troubles of My Own” and one of the final shots was of Jeremy and Arik at the beach, arms thrown around each other’s shoulders, laughing at the camera. The credits were rolling on the screen against some live footage of Sex Gun playing a concert, when David said tentatively, “It wasn’t all that bad.” Matt said crossly, “Yes, it was. Christ, Z’s attracted a nutcase.” Andy said, in his usual calm fashion, “I wouldn’t say he’s crazy. A difficult person, sure, but not nuts. Interesting guy, anyway. And that band is something of a legend.” “They seem like they’ve really gotten themselves together this time,” commented David. Zanna had said nothing. She was still staring blankly at the screen, but no one supposed that she was actually watching the next episode on the tape. Matt doubted that the Red Hot Chili Peppers were registering on her consciousness at all, at the moment. “Paging Zanna,” he said. “Come in, Z.” She looked up. “What?” “Quite the boyfriend you’ve picked up,” said Matt. Zanna said, “I didn’t mean to. It just happened.” “Don’t worry about it, Z,” said Andy comfortingly. “Odds are he’ll have forgotten all about you in a month. It sounds like he has a short attention span, where women are concerned.” “Let’s hope, ” said Matt darkly.

To: Jill Stanley From: Arik Jones Re: Hi

Just wanted to say it was great to see you, after all this time…who knew Steve’s pesky little sister would grow up to be a high-powered business executive, as well as a gorgeous babe...if that’s a sexist remark, I apologize in advance, and I 39

wish you’d tell me, because I’m trying to be more sensitive about these things. We’re in town for a while, rehearsing for the next round of touring (which consists largely of moseying up and down the West Coast, so we’ll be around through most of the fall) I was thinking maybe we could have dinner, or something?? Everything’s going great with the band, nice change from the past, everyone still straight, and not crazy. Well, except maybe Jeremy-I mean he’s straight, not using or anything, but I’m not so sure about the crazed part….he broke up with Jaime (did you know her?) not that I’m saying that was a bad idea, but it happened after he met and fell madly in love with some girl at a party. Only problem is, she’s disappeared – and he somehow failed to learn her last name, or where she’s from, or really any useful information at all….

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To: Arik From: Jill Re: hi yourself

It was nice to see you, too, and yes, I’d love to get together again. I’m gone on business Wed-Fri this week, but around all next week, if that works for you. I was so glad to hear you’re all doing well! But – Jeremy in love??? Are you serious? What’s she like? Saw Sandra Wolf last week, she said …

...Jeremy’s mystery girl was not his usual type, by any means. Although, now that I think about it, I don’t know that he has a type, since he usually just takes one because she’s there and making herself available. It’s sort of like how he always eats the strawberries at backstage food spreads (but never buys them at the store). Anyway, she was older than his last few, maybe late twenties. She knows music hands on – that’s how he met her, he and Rob Demont and some others were screwing around with song arrangements, and somehow she ended up part of it. Jeremy got the impression she might be in production. Anyway, she wasn’t exactly pretty, but had the kind of face that you keep looking back at. Jeremy was pretty much knocked on his ass, and they seemed to hit it off, at least, she came back here with him but - left hastily in the morning with no forwarding address. It’s driving him nuts, he thinks he met the love of his life and she got away. Unfortunately, she left with Kaoru, who apparently got more information than did Jeremy, and won’t cough up any of it. Jeremy wants to kill him, I think….

….sad for Jeremy, especially since this must be the first real woman he’s been with in a long time, as opposed to those half baked models and actresses he usually dates, but maybe she’ll resurface at some point…

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Chapter 4

It seemed like he had just, finally, gotten to sleep when the phone rang. Cursing, Jeremy reached for it, knocking it off the bedside table and onto the floor. Fumbling blindly for it, he could hear a tiny voice saying “Hello? hello?” He finally captured the receiver and rolling onto his back again, said, “Yeah?” It was Daniel. “Quick, go turn on MTV!” “What the hell-” Jeremy began, but Daniel interrupted. “Just do it! Go! Call me back!” and hung up. Jeremy hauled himself out of bed, and padded out to the den. It took him a few seconds to locate the remote, several more to figure out what channel was MTV. Still half asleep, he sat down, staring muzzily at a video shot of a guy playing a lead. It looked like concert footage. Jeremy looked at it uncomprehendingly, not in the least getting why Daniel thought this was significant enough to call at 2 a.m. The camera shifted, and the screen was full of a close-up shot of a girl singing. And then he was suddenly and completely wide awake, because the girl was the elusive Zanna. Her voice had a husky timbre, but she sang about walking away and tasting the pain with an edginess that was compelling. He stared unbelievingly at the screen. She looked different, with her hair caught back in a ponytail that switched with her movements. The camera pulled back as she spun around, keeping the rhythm on a Stratocaster as the lead player did a jazzy, sliding riff. Part of Jeremy’s brain flickered in appreciation; it was nicely done. They finished with a crash of chords and drums, and the final 42

shot was of Zan blowing a kiss to the audience. The tag at the bottom of the screen read:

Jump Cut Taste the Pain MTV cover band competition

He was still sitting there in shock when the phone rang. He snatched it up, and hit the mute button on the remote. Daniel again. “That was her, right? The woman from the session at Rob’s place. Did you know she was in a band?” “Yeah, that was her all right. And no, she didn’t say anything about a band. I only caught the tail end, did you tape it?” Daniel was apologetic. “No, sorry, I didn’t think of it. But look,” he consoled. “You could ask someone at MTV to get it for you, right? We must know people at MTV.” Jeremy thought it over. If they had a tape of Zanna, then MTV also had to know who she was. “Brilliant idea,” he pronounced. He tried to think of who at MTV he hadn’t pissed off for a while. Daniel was a step ahead. “I think what you do, is call some schlep in production. They’ll be so thrilled at actually getting to talk to an artist, they’ll turn cartwheels for you.” “Yeah, that’s a good idea. Thanks. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?” Jeremy hung up, and stared at the silent flickering screen. In his mind, he was replaying the briefly glimpsed video. Then he was replaying that night with her. And seeing her caught-in-the- headlights expression the next morning. He smiled slightly, and said to himself, “You’re mine now, Zanna, love. There is no way I won’t find you, now.”

Jeremy decided to let ARS, Sex Gun’s management people, run some interference for him with MTV. So in the morning he called Shel’s assistant, Nancy, and explained what he wanted. He was on his second cup of coffee when she called back. “Okay, I’ve got someone for you,” she said briskly. “Serenity Hogan, research assistant.” She read off a number. “She’s suitably lowly and star-struck that she should do a good job for you. She’s expecting your call, and probably holding her breath, so do it soon.”

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She added severely, “And Jeremy, be nice to the girl.” “I’m always nice,” he retorted. Nancy made a rude noise and hung up without saying goodbye. He grinned, and dialed up Serenity, who did in fact sound very breathy when she answered. Nancy had filled her in. She didn’t have many questions. “You want everything I can find on the band Jump Cut, and their singer Zanna Martin, right? Print, video, everything? We should have stuff like publicity photos, too.” Jeremy registered that Zan’s last name was Martin. He liked the idea of pictures. “Everything, “ he confirmed. “I’ll get right to it,” Serenity breathed. “And I send it care of ARS? Do you want overnight?” “Overnight would be great,” he answered. “And Serenity, thanks for doing this.” “Oh, it’s no trouble at all!” she assured him earnestly. He thought that Daniel had been right on target with his analysis of the psychology of schleps. He felt a little bit sorry for Serenity, who must have a pretty drab life if doing favors for him was such a thrill. She was saying, rather timidly, “Can I just tell you something? I love ‘After the Hurricane.’ I think it’s the best thing Sex Gun has ever done.” Jeremy was touched. “That’s nice of you,” he told her. “You want an autographed CD, or anything?” She squeaked “Omigod, yes!” He laughed and told her to be sure and include a return address for herself with the package. She said, “Oh! I will! Thank you!” Jeremy said goodbye and rang off, confident that Serenity would do him proud. And she did. The next day, after a call from Nancy, he dropped by ARS’ Century City offices and picked up a surprisingly bulky package. He opened it in the car, sitting in the parking ramp, oblivious to the stifling heat. Inside was a typed note from Serenity:

Dear Mr. Kane: this is everything I could get on the band and Zanna (Suzanne) Martin. Enclosed please find:

1. video, Taste the Pain, MTV release 2. video, interview with Jump Cut, unedited 3. video, Jump Cut competition entry, with additional

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footage 4. articles from Soundline and RockNet, with publicity stills

Very truly yours, Serenity (with an address).

Jeremy made a mental note to send Serenity a whole shitload of Sex Gun paraphernalia, as he started the car. He could hardly wait to get back to Arik’s big screen TV and VCR.

Arik wandered in as Jeremy was rewinding the video from the MTV competition. “What’s that?” he asked. “Take a look,” invited Jeremy, hitting the play button again. “See anyone familiar?” Arik collapsed beside him on the couch, and they both watched as the camera focused on the lead player, a good looking young guy whose bare, muscular torso and tattooed arms would have looked right at home with the band he was covering, or with Sex Gun themselves, for that matter. A trailer at the bottom of the screen informed them that this was the MTV cover band competition, performing the Red Hot Chili Peppers, from St. Paul, Minnesota, JUMP CUT. Then Zanna was on screen, singing about lying in a lonely sprawl, in a tantalizingly smoky voice. Arik said, “Holy shit, it’s that Zan girl!” “Uh huh.” Jeremy’s eyes were on the screen as she tossed her hair back and went into the chorus of “Taste the Pain.” She interacted a lot with the lead player, he noticed, eye contact, quick smiles, and some pretty seductive body language as they jammed on the break. Arik said critically, “They’re pretty good, but that’s the wrong song for this kind of event – hardly anyone knows it except diehard Pepperheads. Should have done ‘Give it away.’” “They do ‘Under the Bridge’ later,” said Jeremy absently. Zanna was back at the mike, her hips swinging in time to the rhythm. It was mesmerizing. “The lead player looks kind of like a young Anthony, though, doesn’t he?” continued Arik. “Taller and maybe a bit thinner, but

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definitely the same kind of face. She’s something the Chilis never saw the likes of, though.” Zanna was freestyling through the last chorus, her voice soaring effortlessly and then dropping into a throaty growl. “God, she’s sexy as hell,” he added. The next song was the RHCP megahit, “Under the Bridge.” Zanna did a no frills rendition, and Jeremy wondered, with an odd twisting feeling, how she felt about singing a song written from the perspective of a junkie. Her style was very different from the original – Anthony Kiedis gave it a wistful quality, while Zanna’s inflections were cool and ironic. She delivered the last verse though, with a tone that was almost harsh, as if she had more anger than sympathy for those who almost gave their lives away, then she turned sharply from the audience. “Very nice,” commented Arik approvingly. “That kid on lead is really good, isn’t he?” “Yeah,” said Jeremy unenthusiastically. The lead player had just put the guitar aside to hug Zanna, and it didn’t look like a particularly brotherly or platonic hug to Jeremy. The next clip on the tape was an interview with the band. The interviewer was one of the music network’s young vee jays, a guy with spiky blond hair who had interviewed Sex Gun once. Jeremy couldn’t stand him. He didn’t know anything about music, and had made a point of asking Jeremy how many times he’d been arrested. (Answer: “I don’t keep count.”) He’d met his match with Jump Cut, however. The quartet were relaxed and articulate, playing off each other with the ease of old acquaintance, responding to questions with sharp, dry humor. It was obvious that Zanna and Co. had an irreverent attitude towards the music business, and the people in it. Jeremy was enjoying their somewhat acerbic responses until his own name came up.

EXCERPT: MTV interview transcript. VJ: So you covered the Chili Peppers for this show, and we heard you do Sex Gun at the party – do you cover other bands too?

Zan: oh sure, we screw up a lot of people’s stuff. David: we’re playing about half covers and half originals these days.

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Andy: except a lot of the covers are so obscure, no one knows them, so they think we’re doing mostly originals. Zan: either that, or we butcher them so badly people just can’t recognize our versions.

VJ: do you have much in common, as far as lifestyle goes, with bands like the Peppers and Sex Gun?

Andy: (laughing) Practically nothing! They’re rich and famous- David: and we’re not. Andy: we all have day jobs- David: and we’re guessing they don’t. Matt: our lead singer has no tattoos- Zan (twisting her arms in front of her) Virgin skin, see? Matt: although she does go to jail pretty often- Zan (shoves him): that’s work, it doesn’t count! Andy, explaining: she’s a lawyer. That’s her day job. Zan: one of them, anyway.

Arik said disbelievingly, “She’s a lawyer? Did you know that?” “Not til I got this stuff,” said Jeremy. “As it happens, sweet Zanna was not particularly forthcoming with information that night.”

Matt: we’re kind of dull. No substance abuse- David: oh, I don’t know about that. I’d call that Ben & Jerry’s habit you and Z had going for a while there, substance abuse. Andy: they were eating it for breakfast. They claimed it was one of the four main food groups. Zan: only the flavors that had fruit, like Cherry Garcia. Matt: anyway, no one’s been in rehab. Zan: can you tell they’ve been watching “Behind the Music”? Andy: and we’ve never done anything remotely interesting with socks. Matt: and none of us date teenage models. David: yeah, what is with that? Why do so many of these guys go out exclusively with really young women?

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VJ: I don’t have the answer. My girlfriend’s two years older than I am. What do you think?

David: I think there’s something wrong with a guy whose girlfriends stay the same age over a 20 year period of his life. Zan: maybe if the girlfriends don’t age, the guys can kid themselves that they aren’t either. Kind of sad, actually. Matt: I think it’s insecurity. Young girls are good at mindless adoration, women challenge you.

VJ: how old are you? Matt: I’m 25. And I’d be bored senseless with some 19 year old wannabe actress. Zan: you know, I’ve noticed something else though. For a lot of these bands, they’ve been together for a long time, and their closest relationships are with each other. You share so much when you work together, tour together, etc., that it can make for a very tight bond. Plus, a lot of these guys are sort of relationship challenged. They’ve had a lifestyle that means they never had to have real jobs, and learn to get along in the everyday world. In the music business, if you get successful early on, you have a lot of people sucking up to you, and it’s not conducive to learning normal people skills. They end up without much sense of how to relate to people outside of their bands. (laughs) And let’s face it, if you’re from Southern California, you’re working with a big handicap in the reality sweepstakes anyway!

Arik said uncomfortably, “You think she’s on to something?” “Probably,” said Jeremy. “You think the lead guitar’s got something going with her?” “Probably,” said Arik, “or at least, he’d like to.”

VJ: I have to admit, that when I heard this band, Jump Cut, was covering the Chili Peppers and Sex Gun, with a female vocalist, I just couldn’t see it. A girl singing Jeremy Kane’s stuff just doesn’t compute. How did you decide to pick those songs?

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David: well, Sex Gun’s my fault. They’re my favorite band. Matt: basically, we all pick something we like to work on. The Peppers were both Z’s and my choice. I don’t remember what Andy had. Andy: I wanted Van Morrison, but you voted me down. Zan: so tell. Why did you think it was weird?

VJ: I can see maybe “If I Could” because that’s a slow, soulful sort of song, but you do numbers like “Come Hard” as well. That just seemed strange, for a woman. Zan: you know, I never thought that song was about sex.

VJ: uh, what?

Zan: I always thought it was using sexual connotations as a metaphor to talk about the frustration of life in general.

VJ: uh, what?

Jeremy exclaimed, “She is the only person who has ever gotten that! Now do you see why I think we’re meant for each other?” He stared raptly at her image. She was giving the VJ an amused look.

Zan: I think it’s using sexual imagery to show how you feel so much anticipation, when you’re young, for what life will offer you. And you have all this energy, and desire, and longing, but you’re not sure exactly what it is you want. And it can be very frustrating, because you just know that somewhere out there, is something more – but it’s eluding you, and in the meantime you have to deal with all the petty details of your mundane existence. (pauses) Okay, I lost you, didn’t I? Oh well, how’d you like our version, anyway? Still think a chick can’t sing Sex Gun?

VJ: hey, you made a believer out of me.

Arik said, “I don’t really see where this is getting you.” “I want to know everything possible about her,” retorted Jeremy, “before I make the next move.”

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Arik thought about this. “I don’t see how you can make a move, since you don’t know how to get hold of her.” Jeremy said nastily, “It would help if Kaoru would give me her fucking address.” “I’m not getting in the middle of this,” Arik told him. “But look at it from his side – she evidently doesn’t want you to have it.” Jeremy looked bleak. “I know,” he said. “And I swear I don’t get that. I couldn’t have been that wrong about her. When we were together, it was so-” He broke off, and thought it over. “So right,” he finished. “And then she wakes up, and everything’s changed, and she freaks out.” Arik looked sympathetic. “It’s probably all the baggage that scared her off.” He went on “You know, at that party? She didn’t realize we were in Sex Gun. Kaoru said something like that, anyway.” Jeremy looked alert. “What, exactly?” “I don’t know. Something she said, that she might have known better if it hadn’t been for the haircut and long sleeved shirt you had on.” “You’re saying she didn’t know who I was until she saw me in daylight with my clothes off?” Arik said, “Sounds like it, doesn’t it? It’s not that surprising; there are a lot of people who listen to music without staying glued to MTV.” “Yeah, well, she knows now, and I’ve got to figure out a way to get past it,” said Jeremy grimly. “You’ll have to find her, first,” Arik reminded him. Jeremy grinned suddenly. “God bless Serenity,” he said. Arik looked startled; religion wasn’t part of Jeremy’s usual makeup. Jeremy added, “Serenity Hogan, research assistant at MTV, who I am taking out to dinner the next time I’m in New York. She’s the one who sent me this stuff, and she dug up an amazing amount of information.” He rifled through the pile on the coffee table. “I know where Zanna works, but since she’s on leave of absence, I can’t reach her there. But from the looks of this,” he waved the copy of the RockNet article, “her whereabouts are going to be public knowledge very shortly. They’re going to be recording out here, and playing some dates.”

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Uneasily, Arik reminded him, “So are we.” He didn’t want his lead singer getting any ideas about going AWOL before the tour. “Yeah,” said Jeremy. “But if she’s out here, recording, playing out, it means she’s on my turf, and I can find her.” Arik said slowly, “Jeremy, has it occurred to you that you can’t actually force the girl to take you into her life?” Jeremy said, with some determination, “I can. I have to make her see…” Noticing Arik’s slightly shocked expression, he said, “What?” “Well, christ, Jeremy! If she really doesn’t want anything to do with you-” “Then she has to tell me that, to my face.” There was an odd expression on Jeremy’s normally saturnine countenance. He looked almost lost, thought Arik. Jeremy said, his voice subdued, “I’ve got to try. If she really doesn’t…like me, because of who I am now, then okay. But if it’s all that stupid shit from before that’s scared her off, then I have to try and make her see that it’s not like that now.” He looked up at Arik. “Don’t you get it? She’s like nothing I’ve ever known. I had no idea what it’s like, to feel like this about someone.” Arik said resignedly, “Okay. I’ll try and find out what studio they’re using. It’ll look better if you don’t do it.” Jeremy grinned at him. “Why I love you,” he said.

To: Jill From: Arik

….well, you were right! Jeremy’s mystery girl has reappeared, although not in person…you know who she is? Watch MTV for a video of a band called Jump Cut doing “Taste the Pain” they play it a lot. I kid you not, that’s her. You want to maybe catch a movie this weekend?

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Chapter 5

To: Zanna

That video MTV put out of “Taste the Pain” has got the single climbing the charts, and the pressure is on to get a full CD together. Have you thought about whether you’re going to do it in your corner of the world or mine? You’ll also have to make a video for whatever the second single is going to be. They can usually be filmed in a few days. I know this is kind of a rush job, and I hope all the members of Jump Cut are okay with that. You’ve definitely got the material – now the key is to get a good producer. Should I nose out who might be available out here? Another thought: you could ask Jeremy Kane for a recommendation, since you two seemed to hit it off. Sex Gun is one of the lucky ones, who get to call their own shots (no pun intended) and he has a lot of credibility and pull in the biz. It’s kind of funny, because they’re such fuck-ups on a personal level, but they have a really good reputation for professionalism. Go figure.

Rachel, yes LA, and please do scope out a producer. I’d much rather have you arrange something, than talk to JK about it. I wouldn’t exactly say we hit it off. Oops. Does that mean I shouldn’t have told him you were 52

probably going to be out here soon? I ran into him on Sunset Boulevard the other day. Sorrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrryyyyyyyyyyyyyy…..

To: Rachel From: Zan

I’ll tell you the whole story when I see you – but yes, avoiding Jeremy Kane is kind of on my list of priorities.

To: Zanna From: Rachel Re: good news, and bad news

First, the good news – and it is good, Z, so concentrate on this really hard, and maybe the bad part won’t seem so bad…we’ve got Tom Scott for your CD!! He’s terrific. He’s heard the demos and the live videotape, and is very enthusiastic. This should make the project go smoothly and expeditiously. Okay, take the bad with it – Tom is also the producer for several of Sex Gun’s albums. I suspect there may be a connection between his availability and you-know-who. Try to think of silver linings, etc, etc. If it’s any consolation, I think Sex Gun is supposed to be touring during some of the time you’ll be here. So you wanna tell me what’s up between you and JK, girlfriend?

Rachel, good work! I know we’re extremely lucky to get a producer like TS, regardless of how it happened, so I’m trying not to whine over the Sex Gun connection. Don’t really want to talk about JK, it’s mortifying. I don’t know why the somewhat sinister interest in Jump Cut, if that’s what’s happening.

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To: Zanna From: Rachel Re: GIVE!

Okay, now I’m REALLY CURIOUS!!! Because I just got off the phone with none other than Jeremy Kane, who was oh-so- charmingly trying to pry your whereabouts out of me. Don’t panic, I was discreet. But obviously he had to talk to TS, or somebody, to find out who I was. I’m not such a famous entertainment attorney that he recognized me at that party. For sure he’s been researching you. So what’s the deal, Z? Have you picked up a celebrity stalker? This is waaaaay interesting. Too bad he’s such a psycho (or so they say) because I gotta tell ya, he’s totally hot. I practically slithered out of my office chair, just listening to that voice.

To : Rachel From: Zanna Re: Mistakes I have known

It’s the horrible truth, I slept with him. And I don’t want to talk to him!! And he has my working notebook and won’t give it back.

Wow, that bad?

Oh, god, Rachel, it’s more like that good. One of those things that feels magical, transcendent, cosmic, blissed out from here to Saturn. I don’t want to see him again, because I might not be able to resist doing something stupid again, and he has trouble written all over him in mile high letters, and I absolutely do not need that in my life, and doesn’t he know that rock stars like him are supposed to be stalkEES, and not stalkERS, what nerve.

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Ah, that explains something. There’s a story going around that his last girlfriend is very bitter over their breakup – she tossed a drink in his face when they ran into each other at some restaurant – and is saying he’s a two timing so and so. That’s down to you??

It was god awful. I encountered said girlfriend the morning after, on my way out. Talk about your awkward moments. Anyway, looking forward to seeing you next week.

Jump Cut Diary August 3, 1999, St. Paul Hey there, Jump Cut aficionados (and people who found this site by accident) welcome to our next incarnation! That’s right, we’re no longer just a bunch of people playing the local coffee bar for kicks, we are now officially a BAND with a RECORD DEAL, on what is known as a MAJOR LABEL! Zanna’s in California even as we speak (she’s not just one of our singer/songwriter/guitar players, she’s also a lawyer) nailing down the details. Of course, no one’s actually quit their day job yet…. Anyway, for the occasion we’re adding this new feature to the website – kind of an ongoing diary about what the band is up to. Look for regular updates, as we continue to chronicle our new existence as a BAND… Special thanks to MTV for deciding to put out the video of “Taste the Pain” from the cover band competition, and to everyone who called or emailed asking them to play it. We owe our new careers to you! Later, David (aka The Drummer for you newbies)

August 5, 1999, St. Paul Hi, this is Andy, stopping in quickly, during a practice break. We’re doing a bunch of rehearsing before heading west, hoping that we can do this in record time. Sorry about the pun, couldn’t resist. We got some great news today…a studio wants to use “Love is a 4 letter word” in a movie! So we’ll be on the soundtrack. They described it as a “hip love story” which sounds like us, dontcha think? Anyway we get a free video out of it, which is very cool because if you do them in the usual way they can be pricey. Next, we’re off to Seattle to play the New Band Showcase- one of those 55

two day affairs with something like 30 bands. Zan calls it Bands on the Verge of a Nervous Breakthrough. August 19, 1999 Well, we’re in Los Angeles, feeling semi overwhelmed but liking the palm trees. We’re excited about getting into the studio and working with Tom Scott, who is very bigtime. Someone asked on the message board about our day jobs! I’m a struggling artist (translate: I work in an art supply store to pay the rent, paint and do sculpture as a calling, bang on drums to let off steam) Andy is actually co-owner of a music store, and used to play in orchestras (!) Matt is in that odd job phase of life (last employed behind the cappuccino machine of our favorite Twin Cities coffee bar) and Zanna is an attorney, although she doesn’t practice much any more, and has another fulltime law related job which she prefers we not disclose, since she nourishes the fond hope that no one she works with will find out just what it is she does in her off time. We have pointed out that Jump Cut’s newfound success is likely to blow her cover, but she seems to think her coworkers are a bunch of dweebs who’ve never heard of alternative rock. Anyway, we’re all kind of on a leave of absence now. Later, dave

August 21 Met with Tom today, he’s a very cool guy, with a lot of knowhow. We played a bunch of stuff for him, and he had a lot of suggestions. It’s funny how you can get too close to your own material, and then someone else listens, and is like, try this, and you’re thinking duh, why didn’t we see that before – but I guess that’s what a producer is for. Anyway, we’re all impressed with both tom and our engineer, whose name is Sammy. LA seems very crowded and frantic, but this evening we went down to the beach (me and Z) and walked for a while, and that was very peaceful and beautiful. Tomorrow we talk to the movie people about putting together a video for 4 letter word – you know the kind of thing, some of us, some from the flick, but hey, it’s a freebie. Zanna already previewed the movie (she wouldn’t let them use the song without seeing the movie first, she’s got integrity, our Z) and says it’s okay. So go see it, and be sure and listen to the music. Bye, Matt

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RockNet Newsline On the alternative rock scene, new sensations Jump Cut are heading into the studio to record their first full length CD. They’re in the unusual position of already having two hit singles. After “Taste the Pain” became one of MTV’s most requested videos, the song was released as a single and rocketed up the modern rock charts, reaching the no.4 slot. The Minneapolis based group’s contribution to the “Take Me Please” soundtrack also has broken onto the charts. “Love is a 4 Letter Word” is currently at #10 on the Hot Entry list. The CD is being recorded in Los Angeles, a decision which reportedly has as much to do with lead singer Zanna Martin’s predilection for surfing as with artistic considerations. Veteran producer Tom Scott , who also works with Sex Gun, Maia Stadick, and Bad Role Model, will be producing the Jump Cut debut, whose working title is Taste This. The album will have both ‘Taste the Pain’ and ‘Love is a 4 Letter Word’, but guitarist Matt Wilder says the rest will be a mix. He told RockNet “We’ll do some songs that we’ve been playing live, a few brand new ones, and maybe some of the old covers.” The band plans on playing some Southern California club dates while working on the album. Wilder says “It helps keep us from getting too introverted, and driving each other crazy.”G

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G G G G G G G Chapter 6

Jeremy’s first attempt at making contact with Zanna was not a success. It started out promisingly enough. He had discovered the Jump Cut website, which was both detailed and updated frequently, bless their webmaster’s compulsive little soul. They were, according to the site’s upcoming appearances section, scheduled to play a small club in West Hollywood, during the week, which should have made it a low key event. But it wasn’t. KROQ, the most influential radio station in alternative rock, appeared to have adopted Zanna and her pals overnight. They had both “Taste” and the soundtrack cut “Love is a 4 Letter Word” in regular rotation, and had given out info on this gig. The line was around the block. Jeremy pulled up in front of the club on his motorcycle, and flipped his sunglasses up in disbelief. What the hell? A bouncer came over from the door and said, “You can’t park there.” Jeremy said, “Are you sure,” and put down his kickstand. The other guy on the door looked over, alert for trouble, and laughed. “It’s okay, Dorf,” he called to his cohort. Jeremy swung off the bike and said, “Thanks.” Ignoring both the glares and excited whispers of those waiting in line, he said to the doorman, “Tickets are?” “Sold out,” was the answer. “It’s okay, go on in.” Jeremy did. The club was done in the post industrial style, with multi levels for good sightlines and fire escape stairs zigzagging up to catwalks. He debated his next step. Go backstage? Just an old friend dropping in to say hello? It didn’t quite work, somehow. He went 58

up to the bar, and asked the bartender, a pert and pretty redhead, if the band was doing more than one set. She shook her head. “Are you kidding? We were lucky to get them at all. The owner knows their manager, or something.” She added, “You want a drink?” He ordered a Corona, a holdover from surfing days, and said to the bartender, “The lead singer’s an old friend of mine. I’d like to see her before they go on.” She said skeptically, “Sure, you and every other guy in the place.” Jeremy said coldly, “Where’s the manager?” The bartender flipped her hair back, and picked up a phone. She spoke briefly, and gave Jeremy an assessing look. “On his way,” she said. The manager was a lanky, balding guy in his forties, who recognized Jeremy immediately. He held out his hand, saying “Mike Flaherty, how ya doin?” Jeremy shook hands, and introduced himself anyway. Flaherty said, “This is great, man, just great! What brings you down here?” He added to the bartender, “Sex Gun, man, can you believe it?” She didn’t seem impressed. Jeremy grinned at her. “Tori Amos, right?” he said. She sniffed. He said to the manager, “I know Jump Cut’s singer from way back.” Okay, so that was a slight exaggeration, but it sounded better than, I slept with her recently and she ran out on me. “I’d like to say hello.” “Oh sure, man, no problem. Come on back.” Flaherty led him through a “staff only” door and into a labyrinth of storerooms and offices. An older man in a suit stepped out of an office and said, “Mike, call for you.” “Aw hell, “ said Flaherty, and waved Jeremy towards a door at the end of the corridor. “In there,” he said. Jeremy said, “Thanks,” and Flaherty disappeared into the office. The door gave no clue as to what lay beyond. Jeremy hoped he wasn’t about to barge into a dressing room, since catching her changing would be an awkward way to meet Zanna again. He gave a warning rap with his knuckles, just in case, and opened it. No one seemed to notice. It was a largish room, with a lot of people hanging out. Some wore black leather, sported multiple

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pierced body parts, and looked hot, tired, and wired. Warm up band, thought Jeremy, just got done. There were a selection of very decked out young women – he dismissed them as groupies. A guy playing with drumsticks, who Jeremy thought might be Jump Cut’s drummer. Drummers never got much video time, and anyway he hadn’t paid much attention to the men. Then the guy glanced over Jeremy’s way, and his eyes widened, and Jeremy was sure he was in Zanna’s band. Then Zanna herself came through a door on the far side. She was dressed as she had been in the video, in an abbreviated t-shirt, low slung combat fatigues, and black Converse All-Stars, with her caramel colored hair pulled up into a ponytail. She looked right at him, and - Spun around and disappeared back through the door. Fuck, thought Jeremy, this isn’t how it’s supposed to go. He started towards the door, when one of the groupies recognized him, and slid into his path. “Excuse me,” he said. She had very pink hair and was dressed in black vinyl and fishnets. She looked at him boldly and said, “I’ll do anything. Anything at all.” “Then get the fuck out of my way,” snarled Jeremy. She acted like she hadn’t heard. “And I’ll let you do anything to me,” she continued. Jeremy felt like smacking her, and not in the way she had in mind. Instead he picked her up and dumped her in the laps of the warm up band. He went to the drummer, who’d been watching with interest. Jeremy said, without ceremony, “I’d like to see Zanna.” The drummer nodded, and said, “Yeah, well, that’s a bit of a problem.” He looked back at the door. “She’s …well….I don’t know how to say this. She seems to not want to see you.” Jeremy studied the other man. He had his head almost shaved, the way Daniel did, but he wore nerdy horn rim glasses that contrasted with the multiple ear piercings and nipple and navel rings. He wasn’t as built as the lead guitar, but had a look of sinewy strength. He was smiling at Jeremy apologetically as he said, “I’m really sorry about this,” but Jeremy was pretty sure that the drummer wasn’t about to let him go after Zan unchallenged. He was positive he could take the guy, but starting a fight with

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one of her bandmates wasn’t likely to endear him any further with Zanna. He looked up at the ceiling and said, “Motherfucker.” Then he said to the drummer, “Do you know why she doesn’t want to see me?” “Not really,” the drummer said. “I’m sorry,” he added, again. “But I kinda have to be on Zanna’s side here.” “I guess,” said Jeremy gloomily. The drummer looked sympathetic. “It might have something to do with that ‘Behind the Music’ episode,” he offered. “We watched it again after she met you. Z looked pretty freaked by the end.” Jeremy swore. Then he said, “You know, they focus on all the bad stuff because it’s more dramatic. It’s not – balanced, the way they do those shows.” The drummer said dryly, “Unfortunately, with you they had a lot to work with.” Jeremy couldn’t, in all honesty, deny it. He said bleakly, “That’s who I was. It’s not who I am now.” The drummer nodded. “I’m not the one you have to convince,” he said. “And Z’s a little paranoid about men, anyway.” He smiled at Jeremy. “But hang in there. Give her time to get used to the idea.” Jeremy didn’t see how he could give her anything if he couldn’t get near her. He said, “Okay. I’m going. You can tell her it’s safe to come back.” The drummer laughed. “Enjoy the show,” he said.

Jeremy would have, too, if it hadn’t been for the disappointment and frustration of not being able to speak with Zanna. She was even more alluring performing in person than she had been on video. Jump Cut was doing more originals than they had for MTV, and their songs were good. Jeremy felt a sort of proprietary pride in their performance, as if it was really his girl up there, her husky voice singing “Under the Bridge,” with strength and soul. They finished and the lead player asked the audience casually, “Any requests?” It was evident that some of those present were familiar with Jump Cut’s MTV history, because they were giving the names of RHCP songs. Someone said “Aeroplane!” and Zanna said, “Seriously, that album sucked,” which drew laughter. Someone else yelled “If I

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Could,” and Zanna froze. She looked at the lead player, and shook her head, but it was too late. Jeremy’s pal the drummer launched straight into it. The bass player picked it up, and then the lead player shrugged and started to play. Zanna looked – well, not happy, anyway, thought Jeremy. Her eyes swept over the crowd, but he knew she probably couldn’t see beyond the lights to where he stood. Just in case, though, he raised his Corona bottle in a mocking salute. And he could have sworn she was looking right at him as she started to sing. It was weird, hearing his words from her mouth. Her eyes were cast down, looking no further than the microphone in front of her. When she got to the lines “Who can know a reason why/I loved you in a dark night’s eye,” her voice was a little ragged. He wanted to believe it was with emotion. He wanted to believe she had. She got to the end, almost whispered the last “if I could”. Then, as the final notes died away, she tossed her head back, and said clearly, “But enough of the junkie blues for one night,” and went hard and fast into the intro to a Jump Cut original, Love is a 4 Letter Word.

You take me down, you fuck me up, I can’t believe my stupid luck I’m so far down, that I can’t see, how I let you do this to me

Jeremy suddenly felt very tired. There didn’t seem to be any point in hanging around until they were done. She didn’t want anything to do with him. He made his way towards the exit, with Zanna’s voice following him. “Abuse it, misuse it, totally confuse it-” Confused is right, he thought wearily. She went on, “when you get down to it, love is just a four letter word.” As he walked out into the night, he caught one last verse:

Please me, tease me, get down on your knees for me Move me, prove to me, it’s more than just a four letter word.

Oh, Zanna, he thought sadly. If you’d let me. If I could.

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Jeremy went through several days of being in a completely rotten mood after that, and had no idea of what to do next in his Zanna campaign. He might have even given up, if it hadn’t been for the coincidence of running into Jump Cut’s drummer a few days later. They were, oddly enough, in the grocery store at the time. Arik and Jeremy were bickering amiably like an old married couple over 1% vs. skim milk (“it’s like water,” insisted Arik) when someone behind them said, “Hey. Hi. Gotta minute?” and Jeremy swung around in surprise. “Hi,” he said. He started to introduce Arik, realized he didn’t know the drummer’s name. He grinned, and said, “This is Arik Jones. Arik, meet Zanna’s drummer.” The guy laughed. “Aka David Weir,” he said. They shook hands, and Jeremy said, “What’s up?” The drummer, who Jeremy was rapidly concluding must have a subversive streak, said, “Something I thought you might want to know, after the other night.” Jeremy’s attention sharpened. David went on “We all gave Zanna hell for that junkie remark. It wasn’t like her, either. She’s not gratuitously cruel.” Jeremy said neutrally, “It was true enough.” “Maybe, but she didn’t need to say it. But that’s not my point. What you might be interested in was her reaction.” He glanced at Jeremy, and said, “She’s generally not the emotional type. Very cool, very collected, our Z. But when Matt told her she shouldn’t have done it, she was in tears and she practically yelled at him ‘Don’t you think I fucking know that!’ Which makes it three very uncharacteristic responses in one go, because she doesn’t cry, she doesn’t swear like that, and I have never heard her snap at him that way.” He smiled at Jeremy and said, “I wouldn’t give up just yet, if I was you.” He added, “Nice meeting you” to Arik, and ambled off in the direction of frozen foods. Arik said, “Nice guy,” and Jeremy nodded, preoccupied. Then he looked at Arik and said, “Okay, if she didn’t care, she wouldn’t have been upset, right?”

Jump Cut Diary Dateline: Los Angeles We spent a day filming some footage to be used in the “Love is a-” video.

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Some of it will be from the movie, of course, but they wanted some shots of us playing, and some “concept” stuff, said concept apparently involving miserable lovers, because we had to walk around looking tortured, and drape ourselves in various attitudes, in a very ritzy loft…it was just a set, but it looked like an amazingly cool apartment, we definitely coveted it. We also got introduced to the entertainment industry, Hollywood style. The label sent a stylist and an “image coordinator” who had ideas of giving us all, but especially Zanna, makeovers. Poor Z, they wanted to make her into MTV Barbie! She tried saying thanks, but it’s just not me, but they didn’t seem to think that mattered. Zanna finally told them any more lip and she’d get a mohawk. They shut up then.

Jeremy was over at Johnny’s house, waiting for the drummer to finish getting ready to go surfing, when he saw the listing for the Shell Club in the local paper. Jump Cut was the headliner that night. How had he missed that one, he thought. He knew Johnny already had plans, so he called up Arik. “Hey, you want to catch Jump Cut’s gig tonight,” he asked peremptorily. “Uh, I was already planning on it,” said Arik. “Kaoru called me…” He paused, so obviously debating the wisdom of inviting Jeremy to join them that Jeremy took pity on him and said, “Oh, well, we’ll see you there, then.” Arik said relievedly, “Great, yeah, see you.” Jeremy hung up and dialed Daniel, who sounded distracted when he answered. Jeremy could hear what sounded like a practice tape playing in the background, and deduced that Daniel was working over some of the new stuff. “We’re going to the Shell Club to hear Jump Cut tonight,” he said. “We are?” said Daniel vaguely. Jeremy could hear him fingering chords. “Yeah, try and focus for a minute. I’ll pick you up at ten.” “I understand why you’re going, but why am I?” asked Daniel plaintively. “I’d kind of like to stay home and work on this…” his voice trailed off and the guitar plinked some more. “You’re going as protective coloring for me,” said Jeremy firmly. “This way we can look like we’re just musicians checking out the local scene. Casual. Very nonthreatening. Basically,” he added,

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“I’m aiming to come across here as something other than a sex- crazed stalker.” “Oh. You kind of are, though, aren’t you? I mean, tracking her down like this, watching that stupid video about a hundred times-” “Oh, shut up,” said Jeremy. “Ten o’clock,” he added sternly before ringing off.

Being big time rock stars occasionally had its use. They got into the sold out Shell Club, and backstage with no problems, only to find that for a new band, Jump Cut was already attracting its share of wellwishers, groupies and hangers-on. It was distinctly crowded, and they didn’t even see Zanna. The bass player was talking to Tom Scott, who had Maia Stadick with him. The drummer was obligingly showing his tattooed back (tire tracks) to the local music press, and the lead guitar was autographing CDs for some starry eyed girls. Jeremy finally spotted Zan way across the room, laughing as she talked to, of all people, Arik and Kaoru Rhodes. “This place is packed,” said Daniel. “Are you sure this is a good idea? She looks kind of busy.” “She does,” agreed Jeremy, rather grimly, and started to shoulder his way through the crowd, with Daniel trailing reluctantly behind him. They didn’t get far. The lead player glanced up, saw Jeremy, and stepped neatly into his path. Regarding him steadily, he said, “Hi. We haven’t met yet, but I’m Matt Wilder,” and offered his hand. Jeremy shook. “Jeremy Kane. Hi,” and tried to look past him for Zanna. “Yeah, I know who you are,” said Matt, “and someday you’ll thank me for this.” Taken aback, Jeremy looked at him. Matt went on “Trust me, now is not a good time to talk to her. Let’s find some place more quiet and you can talk to me instead.” He steered Jeremy backwards in the direction of the exit. Daniel resignedly leaned against the nearest wall. “Why would I want to do that?” said Jeremy, not very nicely. Matt gave him a level look, half-amused. “Because I am about to keep you from continuing to be a ‘horrible mistake,’” he said. 65

Jeremy was startled. “Fuck, does she describe me that way to everyone?” he said, stung. Matt was grinning. “Nah. She just said it to Kaoru Rhodes, and he describes you that way to everyone,” he said. “You asked for it, you know. Your pursuit of Z hasn’t exactly been discreet.” They went down the back hallway, and out the exit door to the alley. There was, oddly, a park bench there, and they sat down. Matt looked around. “Places like this always make me want a cigarette.” “Sorry, can’t help. I quit years ago,” said Jeremy shortly. Matt glanced sideways. “That’s good,” he said. “Me, too. Because Zanna’s very anti substance. Now if you can stay off the smack,” he went on tranquilly, “maybe you’ll have a chance.” Jeremy stiffened, and suppressed an urge to punch out this cocky little bastard. “You want to get to the point,” he said coldly. Matt looked sympathetic. “I know,” he said. “You want to kill me. I can understand that; I want to kill Nick Tzezna, even though I kind of like the guy.” “Nick Tzezna? What’s he got to do with this?” Matt said dryly, “Well, he seems to be the current frontrunner in the Zanna Martin sweepstakes. And by the way, don’t waste your time hating me, I’m not even in the running. Her choice,” he added, “not mine.” Jeremy could not believe this. “Nick Tzezna is fucking married!” “Separated, I guess. Anyway, that’s why he’s got the edge. It makes him safe for her.” “What?” “Yeah, I know it’s weird. But it’s like a built in speed limit. If he’s married, it only goes so far.” “That’s twisted!” Jeremy said vehemently. He did not want Nick Tzezna for competition. Nick Tzezna was the frontman for the spectacularly successful Technical Difficulties. He was smart, charming, and really, really good-looking. “Yeah, well, Z’s not the most normal girl around, you know?” Matt glanced at him. “Okay, you probably don’t,” he conceded. “Let’s just say she’s got real commitment issues. Look, before I get into this any further, I need to know what it is you think you’re after

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here. With her.” Jeremy just looked at him. “What are you, her fucking guardian?” Sharply, Matt rejoined, “I’m someone who loves her and does not want to see her hurt. She’s probably the best friend I’ll ever have, and I would do anything in my power to protect her.” Jeremy felt like an asshole. “I apologize,” he said quietly. “And I just want to know her better, okay?” He paused. “You care about her a lot, don’t you?” Matt sighed. “Oh yeah. More than anyone I’ve ever known.” He hesitated. “It’s kind of complicated. I was mostly a fucked up stupid kid when I met her, but she always treated me like a real person, who counted for something, not just the guy who shoved her cappuccino across the bar. She saw me, and she thought I was worth something, even though I wasn’t too sure about that. She’s probably why I haven’t turned out like you,” he added thoughtfully. “Well, christ, thanks a lot!” Jeremy snapped. Matt grinned. “You know what I mean,” he said. “I easily could have got caught up in drugs and kept getting in fights, and shit like that, but I met her, and I didn’t.” He shrugged. “I taught her how to play guitar, and she taught me how to live. I fell madly in love with her, and she made it clear that it could only go so far. So she’s my best friend, my role model for being a functional adult, and the lover I can’t have, all at once.” His mouth twisted. “ I know all about wanting Zanna Martin and not getting her.” “Why would you help me?” Jeremy was genuinely curious. Matt considered it. “Since I’ve known her, she’s had this attitude that relationships are hopeless, and something she won’t even consider. As far as I can tell, she’s been on this weird celibacy kick for several years now. It’s such a waste. I mean, here’s this beautiful, sensual, passionate woman and she’s not doing anything with it. What kind of life is that?” He shook his head, his ponytail switching emphatically. “She’s mostly just indifferent to men as men – I mean, she’s perfectly friendly, but we might as well be lemmings, for all she’d notice. But you obviously got through to her, in more ways than one.” He shrugged. “Ever since she met you, she’s been very weirded out. I’d like to see her resolve that, one way or another. If it’s going to be you, okay. And if it isn’t, I

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want her to know that.” Jeremy said dryly, “Okay, help me out here. She refers to me as a ‘horrible mistake,’ she won’t call me even to get her notebook back, and you think she likes me?” “Nah. It’s not a case of liking you right now. You scare her to death. And the only reason I can see for that is that she’s afraid you’re someone she could care about.” Jeremy thought it over. “That’s still twisted.” Matt disagreed. “No, this part makes sense,” he said. “Try and look at it objectively, and remember this is a smart woman you’re dealing with, who’s old enough to cut up her own food. I don’t mean to be insulting, but the fact is, you look like the nightmare boyfriend from hell. I mean, do you read your own press?” “I try not to,” said Jeremy grimly. “Well, we did, and let me tell you, it’s not pretty. Doing drugs and doing time figure prominently. And going by ‘Behind the Music’ I sure as hell wouldn’t want to see any woman I liked dating a member of Sex Gun.” Jeremy said slowly, “I can say until I’m blue in the face that I am not that person now, or at least that is not the place I’m in, but-” “But they always do say that,” interrupted Matt. “Baby, this time will be different, blah, blah, blah. Yeah, there’s no point in it. She’s heard that you’ve been clean for a few years, and she’s heard you’ve done that before and started using again. She knows you periodically go to jail. She knows your reputation with women – well, more like girls, I suppose.” He grinned at Jeremy, who was looking ominous, and said, “Keep in mind that while you can probably beat the crap out of me, it would absolutely finish your chances with Zan.” “You know, you’re a real ray of sunshine,” said Jeremy caustically. “Apart from why she ought to stay the hell away from me, which I think we’ve covered thoroughly, do you have anything helpful to add here?” Matt smiled. “You’re holding a major ace, and you’re too close to see it. It’s the music, stupid.” Since Jeremy recognized the misquoted line, he wasn’t offended. He reflected for a moment. Matt went on “That’s your ‘in’ with Z. That’s what you’ve got

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that no one else can touch, and that’s what you’ve got that she really does want. She wants to work with you, although she’s not quite ready to admit it.” “She’s got a funny way of showing it.” “Yeah, you make her nervous. You need to tone it down. But listen, she’s said almost nothing about what went on between you on a – well, personal level, but-” “Except that I was a horrible mistake,” put in Jeremy. That still rankled. Matt ignored him. “But what she did talk about was that the two of you were playing around with a song, that that was how she met you in the first place.” “Yeah. She said the bridge was too long, ” recalled Jeremy with a slight smile. “And we started talking and messing around with a guitar.” He looked rueful. “And it was good, and I haven’t been able to do a goddamn thing with it since.” “Yeah, she regretted not getting a chance to finish it, too,” said Matt. “And she went on and on about how phenomenally talented – those are her words- a songwriter you are, and how working with you on that song was like a transcendent experience.” “It was. Like discovering you’ve been missing part of yourself all along, without knowing it, because that part was inside this other person. And all of a sudden, things that were a struggle are coming easy because now you’re whole.” Jeremy looked thoughtful. “So I just ask her nicely to play with me?” “I don’t know,” retorted Matt impatiently. “I can’t think of everything; you work out the details. The idea is, get into her life without scaring her off. Give yourselves a chance to get acquainted first, this time.” Jeremy remarked, “It doesn’t seem to have worked for you.” It was Matt’s turn to look annoyed. “That’s because she has a major hang-up about our ages,” he said. “She thinks she’d be screwing up my life if we got involved romantically, or something stupid like that. It sucks.” Jeremy grinned, not unsympathetically. “At least that’s one thing I won’t have to worry about,” he said. “I can’t imagine anyone thinking she could screw up my life.” “Yeah, ironic, isn’t it? You actually get rewarded here, for being

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a fuck-up. And I’m out of the running because she thinks that basically I’m a nice kid.” Jeremy remembered something. “And at what point do we get rid of Nick Tzezna? I still cannot fucking believe that,” he added bitterly. “How did that happen, anyway?” “She met him at the beach. Ran into him, literally. He stepped backwards off the sidewalk without looking, and crashed into her.” “How romantic,” said Jeremy sourly. “Yeah. And he felt bad about knocking her down, so he asked her out to dinner.” “Christ. You think it’s serious?” Matt said thoughtfully, “I think she likes him a lot, and she’s enjoying the attention. And I’d say he’s fairly entranced by her.” Jeremy said dryly, “Did she sleep with him? Because if so, I guarantee he’s in love with her.” Matt shrugged. “Don’t know. But before you, she’d been on her stupid chastity kick for about two years, and I would think a person might need to make up for the lost time.” Jeremy ground his teeth. Matt added, “But it won’t last. I’d put money on that.” “Yeah, well, I hope you’re right on that one, because between me and Nick Tzezna, I’m definitely the loser on points.” Matt said cheerfully, “ Oh, what’s to worry about? So he’s a great guy, talented, nice, incredibly good-looking – he’s also with her because she thinks it can’t get serious, since he’s married.” He added, “You’re just going to have to deal with the fact that for now, it’s not your lookout. You’re not in a position to do anything about other men in her life. And by the way,” he was smiling but dead serious, “I’ll cut you out in a New York minute if I ever get the chance.”

In her dressing room backstage at the club, Zanna showered quickly and changed into “civvies:” a tie-dyed red velvet t-shirt with matching long, straight skirt. She abandoned her usual boots in favor of heels – hey, she sort of had a date, after all. The thought gave her a little internal flutter – she wasn’t used to this guy thing – along with a warm feeling, because she genuinely liked Nick. Well, what’s not to like, she thought, looking in the mirror and putting on

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lipstick. He’s funny, talented, down to earth, extremely nice and drop dead gorgeous. She was aware of being perversely glad that he was also married. She knew that made her a sicko, but at the moment she refused to worry about it. She had enough on her mind, including how far she was willing for this to go. Zanna thought she might turn into a mindless puddle of hormones if he kissed her again like he did on the beach that night, and she couldn’t decide if that was good or bad. It was all rather confusing: first Jeremy Kane, now this thing with Nick. What the hell was happening to her, anyway? She grabbed her motorcycle jacket and swung out of the dressing room – and almost crashed into Jeremy Kane in the near deserted corridor. She caught her breath sharply, and reeled backwards, which was a mistake because he promptly followed her so that she was literally with her back against the wall. Standing too close to her, so that she either had to look at his collarbone, or raise her face to his in a way that felt much too vulnerable, he said with an ironic smile, “So. We meet again.” She sneaked a look at him, and had a weird sense of unreality. In one sense, he seemed like a stranger, someone you knew from watching music videos. Yet she also remembered his face so intimately close to hers that night, their bodies warm and naked together. He was both too familiar, and too much of an unknown quantity, and the air was rife with the undeniable tension between them. She felt disoriented. And he was much too close, she could feel the heat from his body and she couldn’t think of anything to say or do. What she did come up with, was “I want my notebook back. You have absolutely no right to keep it.” He laughed shortly. “If you want to talk about rights, Zanna…you want to tell me what right a girl has, to start something she apparently has no intention of finishing?” She stared silently at his chest, broad and hard in a tight black t- shirt. He put his hands on the wall on either side of her, his arms blocking her in, and leaned closer to her. She wouldn’t meet his eyes. She was frozen, barely able to breathe. His face inches from hers, his voice soft and even, he said, “You want to tell me what that was all about, Zanna? You want to explain how you can start a song

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and not want to finish it? You want to tell me how you can make love to me and then act like it never happened? Because I’m not buying this line that it meant nothing to you.” Something twisted inside her. A door slammed at the far end of the hall, and turning her head to look past Jeremy, she saw Nick and Andy coming towards them. For a moment, crazily, she wasn’t sure if she felt disappointment or relief. She met Jeremy’s eyes then, knowing she had won a reprieve, and raised her eyebrows. “Excuse me,” she said coolly. His arms dropped to his sides, and he took a step backward, his dark eyes still intent on her, lips tightly compressed. Nick and Andy reached them. Andy looked wary, and Nick slightly puzzled. “Everything okay, Z?” he said. “Fine,” she replied, her eyes still locked with Jeremy’s. “We’re done here.” His mouth twitched, then, ignoring their companions, he leaned forward and grasped the back of her neck. Pulling her head close to his, he whispered, “But only for now, Zanna.” Surprisingly, he kissed her lightly on the cheek, released her, straightened and moved away, acknowledging Nick and Andy’s presence with a nod. He said to Zanna “Next time,” turned and walked away, moving with characteristic lithe, athletic grace. Zan let out her breath, and turned resolutely to Nick, taking his arm. “Hi,” she said. “Let’s go.” Nick squeezed her arm against his side in a friendly manner, but asked, “What was that about?” with some concern. “Nothing,” she said firmly. Nick said, “I don’t know him personally, but be careful there, Zanna. Sex Gun’s a wild crew, and he’s probably the worst of the bunch.” Something in her expression made him add cheerfully, “Not that it’s any of my business.” “It was nothing,” she repeated, but Andy, for one, thought she sounded like she was trying to convince herself.

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Chapter 7

Jump Cut Diary Dateline: Los Angeles Got the cover art for the CD today, and it turned out very nicely. We think we appear tough, yet sensitive and Zanna looks like one of your darker fantasies. We were somewhat relieved to get it, because we had a bit of a contretemps with the record company, who persist in wanting to redesign us. (This time, they were envisioning retro sixties, sort of Jefferson Airplane meets Austin Powers). We keep trying to explain there’s a reason why something called “alternative” exists on the music scene, but they don’t seem to have caught on. Z says you have to talk to them real slow, in words of two syllables or less. Matt says it’s a good thing that f**k off is only two syllables….

Jump Cut had worked their way around the west coast, playing mostly clubs, but with a few multi-band events thrown in. They were getting a little worn out, and when a date in Sacramento got cancelled due to a fire damaging the venue several days earlier, they were all grateful for the extra day it gave them in San Francisco. They had a week on the road left before getting back to Los Angeles, and Zanna decided that finding a laundromat and a bookstore were her top priorities. The guys had other plans, however. On the bus en route to the home of the Grateful Dead, Alcatraz and Third Eye Blind, Zan inadvertently stopped the conversation when she walked up to the front where David and Spike, their tour manager, were conferring. They looked oddly guilty, she thought, and said sternly to them, “What?” 73

Spike, a lean, craggy faced man somewhere in his thirties, said in a careful tone, “Sex Gun’s playing the Cow Palace tonight.” Everyone knew Zanna was somewhat touchy about her acquaintance with Jeremy Kane. The entire crew had heard the story of how they’d met, and knew he was still after her. Opinion was divided as to his chances. Zanna was very popular among the crew, and the majority view was that Jeremy Kane was too dangerous for their girl. But while Nick Tzezna was well liked, married men weren’t a good idea, either. Most of them would have backed Matt, except for the fact that interband relationships could be messy and lead to premature breakup (in which case they were all out of jobs). Marisa, the merchandise manager, gave it as her opinion that Kaoru Rhodes really would have been the best choice, but unfortunately he and Zanna seemed to be stuck in the ‘just friends’ mode. Zanna, innocently unaware that her putative love life was a major source of entertainment for the crew, said, “So?” “We’re thinking of going,” said David, eyeing her warily. She laughed, and said, “What, you’re afraid I’ll accuse you of consorting with the enemy?” They grinned, somewhat abashed, and Spike said, “We did wonder if it would strike you as disloyal.” “Idiots,” she said affectionately. She sat down and said thoughtfully, “Actually, I’d even like to see them. I never have, live.” “No kidding?” Spike was amazed. “They’re one of the best, Z, you really have been missing something.” She was sorely tempted. After going through a phase of trying to put Jeremy Kane out of her mind, she’d given that up as hopeless, succumbed to curiosity and bought Sex Gun’s CDs. They had considerable impact. It wasn’t just that as a songwriter and performer herself, she could appreciate their craft. Their music also made her feel an immediate connection. Both lyrics and beat, Jeremy’s words and Daniel da Silva’s guitar, the rhythm sustained by Arik and the drummer, Johnny Deal, all of it got to her in a way that resonated in her brain and in her blood. This had put her in the distinctly weird position of becoming almost a fan of the man she had ill advisedly fallen into bed with, and had been assiduously avoiding ever since. She had found

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herself, one sleepless night, browsing the Internet at 3am and looking over Sex Gun web pages, of which there were a staggering number. She felt a kind of guilty embarrassment at doing this – it seemed like a stupid activity for a grown woman – but it was perversely compelling stuff. Click, click, click and you could read articles about the band going back at least ten years, see hundreds of pictures, watch video clips, hear interviews…it had the effect of making her night with Jeremy seem rather unreal. It was so unlikely, that she had, well, had sex (and searingly hot, wickedly passionate, unrestrained, wild, wanton, abandoned sex at that) with this guy, Sex Gun’s dark and dangerous singer, who evidently a lot of women lusted after (judging from the bulletin boards) that it was almost as though it had happened to another Zanna, somewhere off in a parallel universe. She hadn’t seen or heard anything from Jeremy since he had shown up at the Shell Club, quite possibly he’d lost interest… David, seeing that she was torn between wanting to go, and being cautious, urged, “Come with us, Z. Live dangerously,” and Spike added, “It’s not like you’re going to just run into him. Those guys are very well insulated from too much contact with the hoi polloi, they aren’t likely to be wandering around the arena.” No big deal, she thought, it’s just a concert… “I’m in,” she said.

Spike knew someone connected with Sex Gun, and got them backstage passes. Zanna had no intention of hanging out there, but she did go around with Matt, as the opening band finished, to say hello. The Mutant Love Slaves had played one of the multi band gigs with Jump Cut, and she and Matt had hung out with them for a while. They both enjoyed the English band’s deadbeat brand of humor. Zanna figured that the set change would take a while, and big time names like Sex Gun usually went into seclusion until they came on. She didn’t notice that the stage was already pretty much set up, in back of where MLS had played. In fact, all the crew had to do was haul off MLS’s stuff…

Jeremy stopped dead in his tracks, causing a Sex Gun pile up behind him. He couldn’t believe it, but there in front of him, near the steps

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leading to the stage, talking to the English kids from the opening act, was Zanna Martin, along with Matt Wilder. Arik, having crashed unceremoniously into Jeremy, followed his gaze and said “fuck” under his breath. Johnny heard that, also looked, and said firmly, “Not now, Jeremy. We need to get onstage.” Jeremy brushed him aside. “Now’s all I’ve got,” he said tersely, and headed for Zanna. He came up behind her, and said “Get lost,” rudely to the Brits, who stared. Zanna spun around, and Jeremy registered with a part of his brain that she looked wonderful, in an outfit of black lace and pale yellow velvet. She also didn’t look particularly happy to see him. He caught her by the arm, remembering all too well how quickly she could disappear. Matt was just watching, his expression neutral. Jeremy said with mock politeness, “A word with you, please, Zanna,” and pulled her aside. Her chin took on a defiant tilt, and he felt her arm flex under his hand. “What the hell is wrong with you?” she snapped, exasperated. “Where do you get off-” Jeremy knew he was about to really piss her off, but her nearness was intoxicating, he was by now thoroughly frustrated, and she didn’t seem to be the least bit intimidated by him. Her eyes met his squarely and her look was openly challenging. He put his hands around her narrow waist, and lifted her easily onto the speaker cabinet behind her. Taking advantage of her surprise at this unexpected maneuver, he shoved her knee aside, her short skirt hiking up even higher, and moved between her legs. One arm around her waist, he pulled her tightly up against him, wound his other hand in her hair, and kissed her. And for a few glorious, dizzying seconds, he felt her lips give way, her tongue in his mouth. Felt her body arch against him, her legs press against his hips. Then she pushed him away, and dealt him a stinging slap. Her hand cracked hard against his cheek, and in a low, furious voice, she repeated, “What the hell is wrong with you!” He said, “You really want to know, Z? Because I’m dying to tell you. You and I need to talk.” Something in her face changed, from angry to closed. He

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recognized it, and couldn’t stand it. He said roughly “God damn it, Zanna, would you listen to me? It’s not just your pretty ass I’m after.” She recoiled, but he went on, his voice low and urgent, “If you weren’t so fucking stubborn, you’d give us a chance. You know as well as I do that together we can write music we’re never going to find otherwise. We should try to work with each other, and it’s killing me that you won’t see that.” For just a moment, he thought he saw something in her eyes respond, but she said nothing. And then Arik was next to him, saying sharply “Jeremy, back off!” His voice lowered, he went on “Are you nuts? There are several hundred people who can see you from the side sections, and you are way out of line.” He turned to Zanna, and said, “Look, I’m sorry. You okay?” She ignored him. She slid off the cabinet, the movement bringing her up against Jeremy. She looked him full in the face, and said very evenly “The next time you come near me, it had better be because you’re returning my property.” Arik put a hand to Jeremy’s shoulder and shoved him bodily out of the way, letting Zanna move past them. The rest of Sex Gun gathered around. Daniel murmured, “Jesus Christ, Jeremy,” and Johnny remarked, “You know, I think your technique needs polishing.” Matt stopped by them, briefly. Catching Jeremy’s eye, he shook his head. “I don’t think that was such a great idea,” he commented mildly. But Jeremy still had that feeling of elation engendered by her response, however brief it had been. “She kissed me back,” he said softly. “She also belted you hard enough to leave a handprint on your face,” said Johnny skeptically. “She didn’t say she never wanted to see me again,” continued Jeremy. He was starting to smile. Matt reached out and almost affectionately patted Jeremy’s shoulder. “You have got it bad,” he said, and went off to find Zanna. And Jeremy, with a noticeable red mark across one angular cheekbone, but feeling curiously lighthearted, bounded up the stairs

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and onto the stage, to the roar of 13,000 waiting fans. z›““Guˆ’Œ‹Gh›Œ™Gh““G{ŒšŒG€Œˆ™šG z–œ•‹“•ŒG sŒššG ˆ• –•ŒG ›•’G ›ŒG –•šŒ›G –G ”ˆ›œ™› G ˆ•‹G š–‰™Œ› G ˆšG ›œ™•Œ‹G zŒŸG nœ•G š›ˆ‹SG ›ŒG ‰ˆ•‹G ›™ŒžG ˆG “ˆš‰ˆŠ’G ™–”G›Œ™GŒˆ™“ G Œˆ™šG•›–G›Œ™GšŒ›Gzˆ›œ™‹ˆ G•Ž›UGG{ŒG š›ˆŽŒG žŒ•›G Š–”—“Œ›Œ“ G ‹ˆ™’G ˆ›Œ™G ˆG ™ˆœŠ–œšG Œ™š–•G –G 4 j–”ŒG oˆ™‹U5 G G {Œ•G ›ŒG “Ž›šG Šˆ”ŒG ‰ˆŠ’G œ—SG ›–G ™ŒŒˆ“aG q–Š’š›™ˆ—šUG {ˆ› šG ™Ž›UG G {ŒG Œ›Œ™ˆ•G ˆ“›Œ™•ˆ›ŒG ™–Š’Œ™šG š›™——Œ‹G ‹–ž•G ›–G —“ˆ G 4 n–“‹Œ•G n™“5 G ›–G ˆG ‹Œ“™–œš“ G ˆ——™ŒŠˆ›ŒG Š™–ž‹UG G 4 p› šG ˆG š–•ŽG ˆ‰–œ›G ˆG Ž™“G –•G ›ŒG ‰ŒˆŠS5 Gšˆ‹G–Šˆ“š›GqŒ™Œ” Grˆ•ŒUGG4 ~ˆ›G‰Œ››Œ™G›”ŒG ›–G ›ˆ’ŒG –G –œ™G Š“–›ŒšU5 G G {Œ G –““–žŒ‹G ›G œ—SG ˆ——™–—™ˆ›Œ“ GŒ•–œŽSGž›G4 i–‹ Gsˆ•ŽœˆŽŒU5 G p› šG ‰ŒŒ•G ˆG “–•ŽG ›”ŒG š•ŠŒG ›ŒG‰ˆ•‹G ˆ‹G —œ““Œ‹G ›ˆ›G —ˆ™›Šœ“ˆ™G š›œ•›UG G ~ G •–žfG G qŒ™Œ” G “ˆœŽšUG G 4 pG žšG pG Š–œ“‹G šˆ G ›ˆ›G ›G žˆšG š–”ŒG ’•‹G –G š›ˆ›Œ”Œ•›SG ‰œ›G –œG ’•–žSG ”–š›“ G ›G žˆšG ‰ŒŠˆœšŒG ›ˆ›G ˆ™Œ•ˆG žˆšG ™Œˆ““ G –Œ™Œˆ›Œ‹UG G h•‹G ›ˆ› šG ˆŠ›œˆ““ G –žG ›ŒG ž–“ŒG ›•ŽG š›ˆ™›Œ‹G •G ›ŒG ™š›G —“ˆŠŒUG G {ŒG ‘–Š’š›™ˆ—G šŠŒ•ŒG ‹Œ‰œ›Œ‹G ˆ›G ˆ•G –œ›‹––™G Š–•ŠŒ™›G •G hœš›•SG {ŒŸˆšSG ˆ•‹G ›G žˆšG š–G QQ’•ŽG–›G–•š›ˆŽŒG›ˆ›GpG‘œš›G’Œ—›G›ˆ’•ŽG›•ŽšG–UGGiœ›G –œGŠ–œ“‹G›Œ““G›ŒGˆœ‹Œ•ŠŒGžˆšG’•‹G–G•›–G›SGš–Gˆ›G–œ™G •ŒŸ›GŽŽSGžŒGˆ““G‹‹G›U5 GGG {”ŒG‹–ŒšG”ˆ’ŒGˆG‹Œ™Œ•ŠŒSGˆ‹”››Œ‹Gh™’Gq–•ŒšUG 4 pG•ŒŒ™G›–œŽ›G›žŠŒGˆ‰–œ›G›G•G›ŒG–“‹G‹ˆ šS5 Gšˆ‹G ›ŒG zŒŸG nœ•G ‰ˆššG —“ˆ Œ™UG G 4 {ˆ’ŒG –G –œ™G —ˆ•›šSG šœ™ŒSG ž G •–›UG G iœ›G › šG–•ŒG ›•ŽG ›–G š›™—G žŒ•G –œ ™ŒGY\UGG h›GZ^SGp ”G“’ŒSG–G”ˆ•SGpG‹–• ›G’•–žGˆ‰–œ›G›šHG5 G oŒG •ŒŒ‹G •–›G ˆŒG ž–™™Œ‹bG zŒŸG nœ•G Š–•›•œŒšG ›–G ”ˆ•›ˆ•G›Œ™Gšœ™‘–Š’G”ˆŽŒGŒŒ•GˆšG›Œ GŒˆ‹G›–žˆ™‹šG

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›ŒG‰ŽG–œ™G–UGGh“žˆ šGˆ•Gˆ›“Œ›ŠGŠ™ŒžSG›Œ GŠˆ•Gš›““G –œ›”œšŠ“ŒG”–š›G™–Š’G‰ˆ•‹šSGˆ•‹G›Œ™Œ šG•–›GˆGŽœ›G›–G‰ŒG šŒŒ•UGG kˆ•Œ“G‹ˆGz“ˆSG›–œŽSGžˆšGš–”Œ›•ŽG –GˆGŠˆšœˆ“› UGG 4 pG‹‹• ›G‰–›Œ™G›–G—œ›G” Gš–ŒšG‰ˆŠ’G–•SGˆ•‹GpGŽ–›GˆG š—“•›Œ™G•G” G––›GˆšGžŒGžŒ™ŒGŽ–•ŽG–G›ŒGš›ˆŽŒUGG{ŒG Œ•Š–™ŒGœ™›G“’ŒGŒ““G›–G—“ˆ U5 G k™œ””Œ™G q–•• G kŒˆ“G ˆ‹G ›šG ›–G šˆ aG G 4 pG “–ŒG zˆ•G m™ˆ•ŠšŠ–UGG€–œGŠˆ•G‹–Gˆ• ›•ŽGŒ™ŒUGGu–G–•ŒGŠˆ™ŒšU5 G G Jump Cut Diary Dateline: San Francisco Hard to believe, we’re actually playing the Fillmore! (okay, so we’re just the opening act, but still…) We spent like an hour looking at the posters that paper their walls; it’s fascinating rock history. SF is a great city, very cosmopolitan but still manageable. For lunch today we had Dim Sum in Chinatown. They’re like Chinese appetizers or snacks, but you make a whole meal out of them. These ladies come around with carts, and you point to what you want. Andy swears we had squid dumplings. David and Matt wanted to go out to Alcatraz, but it turns out you have to get tickets way in advance. Rode the ferry to Sausalito instead. Zanna got up at some insane hour and went surfing with a friend from law school – she said it was cool, in more ways than one. Several of us caught Sex Gun’s concert last night – they’re the quintessential post punk rockers, what a show! And you gotta like the kind of confidence they got – we asked Z what she’d do if the rest of us decided to strip onstage (like, would she be with the program, or what) and she said:

Laugh.

On that note, warm regards, jc

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Chapter 8

Jump Cut and Sex Gun were often playing the same cities within days of each other, although not the same venues. Jump Cut was in clubs and occasionally a small theater, while Sex Gun had a steady diet of stadiums and arenas. Matt, for one, had been struck by the differences in San Francisco. Sex Gun had a lot more equipment, for one thing – there were at least a dozen guitars racked off stage for that show- and a corresponding mess of people to deal with it, plus an entourage – press people, personal assistants, who knew what all they did? In Jump Cut’s world, though, everyone doubled up on jobs. The merchandise manager also did publicity and tour materials for the website, the stage manager was also the lighting tech, etc. Matt had three guitars, Zanna had two, and they looked after them, themselves. They had a truck for equipment, and a single bus for people, and the crew pretty much took turns driving. They stayed at budget motels, when they didn’t just sleep on the bus. A nice custom had developed along the way, though – people brought them food. It had started when they played San Diego, where Marisa the merchandise manager’s mother resided. Convinced that they all lived on Big Macs when they were on the road, she had brought pies. Peach, and apple, and coconut cream. They were a huge hit, and there was much in the way of appreciative thanks on the web page’s tour diary for the next few days. Then in Monterey, Tank the roadie’s relatives brought brownies and seven layer bars, and after that, whenever they played a location with friends and relatives nearby, baked goods always seemed in the offing. The band loved it. When they played San Jose, Spike’s grandma even gave the 80

whole band and crew a lasagna dinner. It was not only nice to have home cooked food; the concern behind it was heartwarming. It reminded Zanna of the small Midwestern towns where some of her relatives lived, places with church bake sales and Rotary Club pancake breakfasts. Food as comfort and society. Bands like Sex Gun might never have to stay at Motel 6, but they probably didn’t get this kind of homey nurturing either. Jump Cut was getting a very grass roots look at the West Coast.

Meanwhile, Sex Gun themselves were generally enjoying the continuing momentum that “After the Hurricane” was generating. “Troubles of My Own” was still high on the singles charts, even while the title song was no. 1 on the hot entry list. The video for Hurricane was one of the most requested on both MTV and RockNet. Arik, glancing over the latest issue of Billboard, noticed something else. “Your girlfriend’s got another single out,” he told Jeremy. They were on the bus, en route to Tacoma, Washington at the time. Jeremy glanced up from the book he was reading. “Zanna?” “Yes, Zanna, who else would it be?” Arik retorted. “Soundtrack cut, ‘Love is a 4 letter word.’” Jeremy snorted. “That’s her, all right,” he said. He hadn’t been able to figure out any way to make contact with her again. So far, their schedules hadn’t coincided, tourwise, and he had been unable to wheedle her LA address out of that lawyer, Rachel Whatshername. It was all very frustrating, but Jeremy was displaying a kind of stubborn determination that came as a surprise to his bandmates. He regularly borrowed Arik’s laptop to keep track of developments at Jump Cut’s website, and he read their tour diary with as much attention as the most avid fan. He was also noticeably uninterested in other women. Unfortunately, thought Arik, you couldn’t really say that falling in love had improved Jeremy’s overall disposition. Always moody, the singer had initially been up after his last meeting with Zanna, but had since become rather surly. Jeremy had a feeling that the seed of the idea he’d planted, about collaborating musically together, might have taken root, but how could he tell if he couldn’t even talk to her? He would have sworn that she had been struck by that comment (after she had struck him)

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and he badly wanted to follow up on it. Arik tried to console Jeremy. “A few more days, and we’re back in LA. With a CD coming out, she’s bound to be visible.” “Yeah, I guess.” His tone was disconsolate. “They’ve got more pictures up on their website,” offered Arik. “What are you, fucking Pollyanna?” But Jeremy was grinning. “I’m getting to like the Internet. Stalking made easy. Satisfy your inner voyeur. What kind of pictures?” “A few from their Shell Club gig, and some candid stuff. A very nice shot of Zanna at a film premiere with Kaoru.” “He’s dating her?” Jeremy sounded pissed. Arik hastened to correct that; he didn’t want one of his best friends being punched out by the other. “No, no,” he said soothingly. “They’re just friends. I think.” Jeremy still looked cranky, but he let it go. Arik was following his own train of thought. “I think we should do more with Sex Gun’s website.” “I didn’t know we had one.” “The label does it; there’s not much there. Some promo shots, a bio, stuff like that.” Jeremy grinned. “Maybe we should rip off Jump Cut’s ideas. Think they’d mind?” “We could always ask their lawyer,” said Arik cheerfully. “That Rachel girl. Don’t you practically have a relationship with her by now?” “More of one than I’ve got with Zanna,” admitted Jeremy. “At least she mostly takes my calls, even if she won’t give up any useful information. But what the hell, this could strike her as a legit reason for us to talk to Ms. Martin.” He stretched his long legs across the aisle, contemplating the possibility, however remote, of a Zanna contact. But Jeremy’s next communication to Zanna Martin was destined to be through a vastly different medium than Jump Cut’s lawyer/agent.

It was before their show in Portland that Sex Gun’s road manager, Tanner Holt, handed the latest issue of MusicTown magazine to Arik. “You break the news,” he said glumly. Arik glanced down at

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the open page, and swore. Then he went to find his lead singer in the dressing room. He strode into the room, and threw the magazine at Jeremy. “What the fuck were you thinking?” he said. Startled, Jeremy looked up. “What are you talking about?” “Look at it. Page 22, “ said Arik. Jeremy picked the magazine up from where it had fallen on the floor, and flipped the pages. Then he went rigid with shock.

Sex Gun’s Jeremy Kane on love and hope and sex and dreams- and Zanna Martin. Breaking up is hard to do…but you couldn’t necessarily prove it by Jeremy Kane. The Sex Gun singer recently endured a split with his girlfriend of two years (culminating with a marguerita thrown in his face at a popular Los Angeles eatery) but he waxed philosophical when we encountered him on tour with his band. Before a recent gig, Kane sat down with MusicTown and talked about women, love, and ultimate sex. MusicTown: you’ve got kind of a history of broken relationships, don’t you? JK: you know, things run their natural course, most of the time, and if something doesn’t work out, I think it’s because it wasn’t meant to be. MusicTown: what about the marguerita? JK: Yeah, I do feel bad about that…how this whole thing happened. I’m sorry I hurt Jaime, but to my mind it would be a far worse sin to keep seeing her when I’d fallen for someone else. MusicTown: but maybe you could have, uh, not slept with the someone else in the meantime? JK: If fate offers you a taste of heaven, are you going to turn it down? Say no to something you’ve always been looking for, that you want in the worst way? You don’t get to choose the timing on these things. You have to go for it when you have the chance. MusicTown: so this was love at first sight? JK: well, it was something at first sight… love overnight, anyway. Definitely I’m in love with her now, which is kind of problematic because at the moment she’s not returning my calls. MusicTown: the object of your affection is not reciprocating? JK: I think she’s inclined to be a bit cautious where I’m concerned, for which I don’t blame her. I probably don’t appear 83

to be the best candidate for a serious relationship. Hopefully I’ll get a chance to prove otherwise. MusicTown: you haven’t been known for putting effort into relationships with women. Has that changed? JK: Yeah, that changed instantly. I don’t know how to explain it. She was like light exploding in my head and the world’s been a different place ever since. She has an allure that’s stronger than any drug I’ve ever used. I’ve never craved anything the way I want her. She’s completely, utterly mind- blowing. I’m totally hooked on this woman, and I’ll do anything to be with her again. It’s like fucking nirvana. It’s like finding the meaning of life, the secret of the universe, all of it and more, in her. So yes, you could say I’m definitely willing to put any amount of effort into this. MusicTown: Most of the women you’ve been involved with have been beautiful young models and actresses. Is this one? JK: Well, she’s definitely beautiful but we’re closer in age, I think, which is very cool. She’s a songwriter, too, that’s how I met her. She’s incredibly lovely, in a very real way, and sexy and smart and talented. (laughs) What can I say? She’s everything. She’s wonderful. And one of these days I’ll chase her down. While Jeremy isn’t naming any names, other sources identified the new love of his life as Zanna Martin, vocalist for up and coming alt rockers Jump Cut. The band’s cover of “Taste the Pain” is rocketing up the singles charts, and anyone who’s caught the video of their live performance on MTV will have no difficulty seeing the attraction. The delectable Ms. Martin is definitely worthy of desire. Kane may have some competition for her attentions, however: she’s said to be frequently in the company of Technical Difficulties frontman Nick Tzezna.G

Incredulously, Jeremy raised his face from the magazine. “I can’t believe they did this,” he said. “This is from that interview I did with them months ago, right after I met her. I didn’t even know she was in a band, then.” “Well, obviously someone clued them in. They’re gonna have a field day with it now,” Arik told him. “She is going to fucking hate this,” said Jeremy bleakly, still staring at the magazine. There was a picture of him, taken from a concert, shirtless and down on his knees, and one of Zanna, a candid picture evidently from their club tour. She was lying down on the 84

bus, arms crossed behind her head, one leg propped up on the back of the seat, with her eyes closed. The combination was deliberate, and provocative. “No shit,” said Arik. “And I can’t even get in touch with her,” Jeremy went on. Arik suggested, “You’d better ask Kaoru to pass on a message or something. She’s going to think you said this last week.” “Kaoru’s on location somewhere, isn’t he?” “Fuck. Yes. Well, that lawyer, Rachel Something, then.” “Christ, what do I say?” Jeremy looked genuinely distressed, Arik noted. It was very far from his usual take it or leave it attitude with women. “They took this completely out of context. That was a long interview, and it was mostly about “Hurricane” and us still being alive, touring again, all that. It was right at the end that he asked me about women, and mostly what I said was that I felt like I’d met someone who I’d been looking for, all my life. Someone that I really connected with. “But they take this little snippet, and print it now, when everyone knows who Zanna Martin is, and it makes it look like I went out of my way to talk about sleeping with her. And it wasn’t about that, I was talking about the whole thing, not just sex. They make it sound like I was calling her the fuck of the century, or something.” “It sucks,” agreed Arik. Jeremy said in frustration, “Just when it seemed like I was finally getting through to her, this has to happen.” Arik thought about mentioning that getting through to her, in that she slapped him across the face, wouldn’t be regarded as progress by most people, but instead he said, “Do you know where Jump Cut’s playing next?” Jeremy said morosely “I checked their website. There’s nothing that works. And Tom says they’re done recording. The CD’s well into post production already.” Arik said, “That was fast,” surprised. “Yeah, well, at their stage of the game, there’s pressure to avoid using much studio time, remember how that was? But anyway, Tom said they’re an efficient bunch, and they don’t screw around.” He smiled a little, reluctantly. “I don’t know if that was in favorable contrast to us, or what.”

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Arik said, “Probably. Not that we screw around; we’re just perfectionists.” “Or so we like to think,” said Jeremy. He got up from the couch and prowled restlessly around the room. Arik watched him, not without sympathy. Jeremy’s problem, he thought, was that he’d never come close to caring about someone this way. And he’d never been interested in a woman and experienced this kind of rejection. In a way, it was too bad he’d fallen for someone as complex as Zanna Martin. Of course, that probably had a lot to with it. Arik had a feeling that Jeremy had more in common with her than he realized. For starters, they were both apparently stubborn as hell. Jeremy definitely was going to have his hands full. But they had been friends for a long time, and regardless of how difficult he could be, when you got down to it, Arik loved Jeremy like a brother. If what Jeremy wanted was Zanna Martin, then Arik supposed Sex Gun was going to have to get behind this… “What about the Oceans benefit?” he asked. “What about it?” said Jeremy blankly. “It’s in two weeks, we’re headlining. What else is there?” Patiently, Arik explained, “Well, if Jump Cut’s not booked for anything else-” “Oh god, that’s brilliant. Yes. I’ll call ARS. If we’ve got the contract rights to kick someone off the bill, and we do, surely we can get someone on.”

To: Zanna From: Kaoru Re: oh, wow

Hey, Z, how are you doin? I’m guessing you’re getting a lot of shit over Jeremy’s interview in MusicTown, after all, I even heard about it this fast. Anyway, just wanted to lend moral support. Try and stay cool, the vultures are circling and if they know they’ve actually drawn blood, they’ll be on you worse than ever.

To: Zanna From: Rachel 86

Re: that interview

Talk about spilling your guts! What’s with that? Well, on the bright side (or, to be cynical) that rag has done us a favor in one regard – their crappy article will actually sell Jump Cut records. Interesting sidebar – I got a message yesterday, to call Shel Goldstein, Sex Gun’s manager. Been playing phone tag since. I’ll let you know when I find out what it’s about.

To: Zanna From: Callie Re: YOU DID WHAT?!

Or should that be, you did who? :D sorry couldn’t resist! I can’t believe you didn’t tell me! I thought you’d given up on men?! He’s a hunk and a half – but isn’t he kind of a wacko? Are you still seeing him? I want DETAILS! Quit holding out! Much love, your agog with curiosity sister, Cal

Jump Cut Diary Stopping in for a minute, post Olympia show. Tomorrow, Seattle! This is going to be our first and hopefully last comment on Zanna’s love life: we would really appreciate it if people could try and respect her privacy. It’s a difficult thing, to have your most personal interactions under scrutiny, and whatever she is or isn’t doing, she deserves to be let alone to do it, or not, in peace. (And with any luck her blabbermouth admirer will also get the hint). And in the news – our next single is going to be “Life is Triage,” and we’ll be filming the video soon –stay tuned for details!

RockNet Newsline Just added to the lineup for the Oceans benefit is Jump Cut. With their first CD being released soon, and two singles on the charts, this will be the band’s first major concert appearance.

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Although they’ve been playing club dates, and opened for Technical Difficulties at the power pop group’s recent Private Performance gig at the RockNet studios, lead guitar Matt Wilder admitted they’re excited about playing the stadium show. “It’s the kind of thing you dream about, from the time you’re a kid playing alone in your room, with people yelling at you to shut up,” he said. “It’s definitely a long way from the coffeehouse we were playing at just a few months ago.” Although Jump Cut hails from the Midwest, lead singer Zanna Martin is a neophyte surfer, which might explain her band’s participation in the fundraiser, which seeks to preserve shoreline quality in Southern California. Or maybe it’s her recently disclosed relationship with Sex Gun frontman Jeremy Kane, whose band is headlining the event.G

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Chapter 9

Seattle by Night: What’s happening Tonight: Gay and Lesbian Film Festival, Wyman Center for the Arts, reception at 7:30 pm. SEX GUN, Cutler Center. Opening act: Mutant Love Slaves. 8pm, a few seats left, $35 and up. Jump Cut, Mirror Theatre, with the Mike Scott Band. 9pm, tickets $20./ / They were going over the setlist, and arguing about whether both If I Could and Miss You was too much angst for one night (Jeremy thought so, Arik pointed out they both got a lot of recurrent airplay) when they heard voices outside the room. Jeremy jerked around to face the entrance, Arik groaned, Daniel said uh oh very quietly, and Johnny remarked with a grin, “This ought to be good.” Because they all could recognize Zanna Martin’s voice saying emphatically, “I am going to kill him.” She entered, shaking off Tanner who was valiantly if ineffectually trying to dissuade her, and crossed the room in long strides. She was wearing a dress with a slinky black top like a dancer’s leotard, and a gold snakeskin velvet skirt, short and flared and showing off her long legs. The heels of her boots clacked sharply on the floor. She looked great, Jeremy thought, irrelevantly. She also looked extremely angry. She marched up to them, and Arik and Daniel prudently withdrew, but Johnny held his ground, apparently prepared to enjoy the show. Jeremy just sat back, feeling doomed. There was nothing 89

he could do now. Obviously she’d seen that stupid article, and obviously she wasn’t a bit happy about it. She stopped in front of him, and said without preamble, “What the hell were you thinking!” and smacked the back of his head. Incensed, she went on “Fucking nirvana? What the hell was that supposed to mean?” Another smack upside the head. “And was that a verb or an adjective, anyway,” she added crossly. He started to laugh at that –as mad as she obviously was with him, she still was analytical enough to criticize his syntax. She snapped “It’s not funny!” and he sobered, saying, “I’m sorry, Z, if this has caused you any inconvenience, but-” “Inconvenience? Is that what you call it? I’ve had RockNet in my face, a deluge of phone messages and email, moshers at our last show chanting ‘nirvana’ at me-” “Zanna, I-” “Nick wanting to know why the VH1 poptarts are asking him how he feels about my relationship,” she practically spat the word out, “with the notorious Jeremy Kane-” “Look, I didn’t-” “The Lilith crew is referring to me as ‘Wonderslut’-” “I’m sure they mean it as a compliment,” he said, trying not to grin. She ignored him. “Every man I meet is giving me horribly speculative looks-” “I’m sorry-” “And did it ever occur to you that maybe you should have said some of this to me, instead of spilling your guts to a freaking reporter?” She appeared to have run out of breath on this piece of patent unreasonableness, and he seized his opportunity. “I would have, Zanna, but listening to me hasn’t really been your strong suit, has it?” he said sharply. “I can’t call you, because you won’t give me your number. You won’t call me. Every time I see you, you run away. So how the hell am I supposed to tell you anything?” For a moment, they glared at each other. Johnny said fairly, “You know, he’s got you there.” Zanna threw him a startled look, apparently not having noticed him before. She blew her hair out of her face, and said, “Fine. Okay. Have it your way,” and snatched up

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the marker Jeremy had been using to write the setlist. Grabbing his arm, she snapped off the cap with her teeth, and started scrawling numbers from his elbow to his wrist. She ran out of room, evidently, because she yanked up his shirt and kept writing across his chest. Jeremy was so taken aback by this sudden assault, he didn’t move, and from across the room Arik, Daniel and Tanner watched in amazement. “There,” she said, capping the marker and tossing it down on the table. “For the next time you get the urge to bloody well shoot your mouth off. Because I will annihilate you, if I ever have to read anything like that again!” She spun around on her heel, but Jeremy was getting used to her hit and run tactics, and was ready this time. He was out of his chair in an instant, and in front of her, saying, “Fair enough, Z, but you should know that I never gave your name to anyone, and since I meant everything I said, even though I probably could have put it better, I can’t wholly apologize for the remarks.” He smiled, a little crookedly, and said, “I am sorry if I’ve caused you any pain, and I can only say that I never wanted that.” She stormed, “I hate this! I hate it that freaking Rolling Stone reporters are leaving messages on my voice mail. I hate it that complete strangers are debating this on the Internet. And I don’t- why do you- I mean…” Her eyes met his in angry frustration. “Why are we doing this to each other, anyway?” His heart took a leap, because that seemed to imply that they should maybe be doing something else, but before he could respond, someone opened the door and said “Five minutes,” and Zanna looked around as though she had only just noticed where she was, and said to the room at large, “Sorry for the interruption.” Jeremy dropped his head back, looked at the ceiling, and said to no one in particular, “motherfucker.” He said to Zanna, “I don’t suppose there’s any point in asking you to hang around til after we play?” She shook her head, as he followed her out into the hall. “Gotta work. I only came by to yell at you.” She headed for the exit, saying only, over her shoulder, “See you around.” The rest of the band joined Jeremy in the hall, and they headed for the stage. “I think I’m making progress,” said Jeremy thoughtfully.

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“ I guess you’d better keep your shirt on tonight,” said Tanner. “Huh?” “Or a bunch of weirdoes are going to be calling your new girlfriend.” He gestured at Jeremy’s arm. “If that’s a real number,” he added. Jeremy looked at the four digits scrawled on his forearm, and lifted up his shirt to read the rest. Johnny burst out laughing. The numbers went across the singer’s broad and hairless chest, and just below was written a distinctly sarcastic “for a good time.” Jeremy started to smile. “Tanner, let me have your cell phone,” he said. He punched in the number, and his smile widened – it was her voice mail. He said, “Thanks, Zanna. Talk to you soon, I hope,” and rang off. Daniel said prosaically, “You’d better copy that number down, in case the ink runs when you sweat.”

From “Selling your Soul to Rock and Roll: trying to make it in the music business” by Carla Ingalls, part I. MusicTown Vol.538

...Saturday’s Child has had a tough time breaking into mainstream markets, and singer Nikki Dancer isn’t shy about giving her take. “It’s harder for women, period. The record execs, the people who put on the big tours, are mostly guys in suits, and they want you to look a certain way, act a certain way. If you don’t get with their program, you’re history.” She also thinks that some bands are making it on something other than their musical talent. “It really sucks when you see someone like Zanna Martin (of Jump Cut) come along, and kaboom! Her band gets to open for Technical Difficulties and play the Oceans benefit. Why? Well, she’s dating Nick Tzezna, and another one of her lovers is headlining the Oceans show- and when Jeremy Kane tells the promoters to jump, they ask how high. We’ve been doing this for years, and we’ve never gotten those kinds of breaks.” Jump Cut’s other vocalist/guitar player had sharp words on that score. “Anyone who wants to know why we got those gigs should take a look at the charts,” said Matt Wilder. “We’ve had two songs in the hot entry list in as many months. We’ve had a video on the most requested list since we started touring. How many of them are in that position? Yeah, we’ve gotten some

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breaks, but who hasn’t? The main piece of luck we’ve had was that MTV put out a video for us, from their competition. And I can guarantee that none of us slept with anyone at MTV.” Zanna herself shrugs off the comments. “Sometimes I wish I was getting as much action as they’re giving me credit for,” she says with a laugh. “But there’s a difference between being lucky, which we’ve been, and getting lucky, which we haven’t.”G

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Chapter 10

Zanna had not expected to like Southern California. Hideous freeways, smog, shallow people, was basically what she remembered from previous trips. But somehow, she did like it. She liked the nervous, frenetic energy of the city, and she liked the little beach communities. She liked the twisting canyons. Most of all, she loved being by the ocean. She had initially stayed with Rachel on coming out to LA, but when their producer, Tom Scott, discovered she liked surfing, he had offered her the use of the guest house at his place, which was almost on the beach. The place itself was compact, but comfortable. A miniscule kitchen nook and living area downstairs, a sleeping loft and bathroom above. Outside was a patio screened with bougainvillea. A big locker held a bike and surfboard (both on loan from Kaoru). It was only a short walk to the small shopping zone which had a coffee bar, several cafes, a surf shop, and a grocery store. She could run for miles on the paved path along the oceanfront. It was after a morning run that she ran into Kaoru and Arik Jones, having breakfast outside at a sidewalk café. Kaoru, who had become one of her favorite people in California, hailed her with pleasure. “Zanna! Come join us!” She hesitated, because she didn’t know Arik very well. Considering the last few times she’d seen him there’d been some kind of altercation with Jeremy, it seemed a bit awkward. But he was smiling at her, and pulling out a chair with a gesture of invitation, so perhaps it was okay. He didn’t seem to find anything amiss. “So how’d your 94

recording go?” he asked. She laughed. “Well, I don’t have anything to compare it to, but I guess okay. It’s done, anyway.” “How’d you like working with Tom?” “Oh, he’s great! He has a way of pulling things together that’s incredible. He’s done a lot of stuff with you guys, right?” Arik nodded. “He’s our producer of choice by now.” Zanna said frankly, “I can see why. ‘Hurricane’ is excellent.” Kaoru said with a grin, “You listen to Sex Gun now, Z?” “I even bought the CD,” she retorted. “I’ll return the favor when yours comes out,” promised Arik. The waitress came up then, delivering omelets to both the men, and giving Zanna an inquiring look. She asked for orange juice. “Were you out this morning?” she asked, nodding towards the water. Kaoru swallowed a bite of spinach omelet, and said, “Yeah, but it was tame. We’re going up to Point Parrish tomorrow, you want to come?” She was tempted. They were playing a club in LA that night, but the day was free. Arik seemed to read her mind. “We’ll have you back in plenty of time,” he told her. “You’re at Apres tomorrow, right?” She nodded, surprised that he knew, and was just saying “I’d love to go, then,” when she saw Kaoru, who was sitting across from her, look over her head with some consternation. And then Jeremy dropped into the seat next to her, and said, “Go where?” She was on the verge of making an excuse and leaving, when the waitress came back with her juice. Damn, she thought, it would be way too obvious now. She eyed him warily. She hadn’t seen or talked to him since Seattle, although he had left her a couple of messages. Kaoru also looked cautious, Arik resigned. “Point Parrish,” he said. “Tomorrow morning. Early.” “Yeah? Am I invited?” said Jeremy, quite cheerfully. Kaoru said unenthusiastically “Sure. Anyone can come.” Jeremy glanced at Zanna. “You don’t mind, do you?” “Fine with me,” she said faintly. His lips twitched, and he started to say something, but Kaoru, anticipating it, forestalled him. “I’ll pick Z up then, and we’ll meet you there,” he broke in

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smoothly. Zanna flashed him a relieved smile. Jeremy raised an eyebrow, and said ironically, “Swell.” There was an awkward little silence, then Jeremy said to Zanna, “So how’s the record?” That was an innocuous enough topic, she thought. “Good,” she answered. “I think. I was just telling these two, it’s kind of hard to know when you haven’t done it before. And I never know if my stuff is any good or not, only if it feels right to me.” He looked amused. “Too true,” he said. “Sometimes I’m like, this track is great, and he,” nodding in Arik’s direction, “is saying what, are you kidding, it sucks.” “How do you decide what makes the final cut?” she asked curiously. “Lots of arguing,” Arik told her. “If necessary, arm wrestling.” “Your band do it like that?” asked Jeremy. Zanna said, “If we did, it would amount to letting Matt pick everything! But it wasn’t especially an issue. We don’t have that much material, and we relied a lot on Tom’s input.” Kaoru said, “I hope ‘Girlfriend’ made it. It’s my personal favorite.” Zanna laughed. “The label wants me to clean it up for the radio,” she said. “Going to do it?” asked Jeremy. He must have ordered before sitting down with them, because the waitress had just brought him an omelet, too. Zanna was beginning to actually feel a little hungry herself. She shook her head. “I don’t think so,” she answered him. “It was one of those songs that was born whole, if you know what I mean, and it feels right to me the way it is. They can blur out the one four letter word if they want to, and if radio stations can’t take the rest, too bad.” “Good girl,” he said. “You stick to what’s right for you. It works out better in the long run.” Kaoru said, “Yeah, and never mind those little overnight excursions to the county jail.” Zanna glanced apprehensively in Jeremy’s direction, but he was grinning reminiscently. “God, Florida, yeah. That was a helluva show.” Arik told Zan dryly, “Just be sure and keep your clothes on when

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you do it live.” Jeremy noticed Zanna looking at his plate, and said, “Want some?” She demurred, but he ignored that, and held out a forkful of omelet for her. She ate it, said “Mmm, that’s good,” and he looked gratified. “Try the potatoes,” he said. Zanna decided they seemed to have an undeclared truce in effect. Well, if he wasn’t going to bring up anything personal, far be it for her to spoil the mood. She filched a potato spear, coated in something spicy and very tasty, off his plate. Jeremy proceeded to alternate bites between the two of them, while asking Kaoru about his latest film. It was all very friendly, and Zanna started to relax. It occurred to her suddenly that this was by far the most normal interaction she had ever had with him. It was kind of funny, because sharing food was sort of a personal thing, more intimate in some ways than sharing a bed. He was, she thought, good company when he wasn’t being a psycho. Two women stopped by their table just then. The taller one was dressed in a loose, gauzy green tunic with silver jewelry, and had a wildly curly red-gold mane of hair. Zan recognized her as Maia Stadick, whom she’d seen with Tom. Accompanying the singer was a sleek brunette, also 30ish, very put together in white linen. They made Zanna, in tank top and ratty old shorts, with no makeup and windblown hair, feel distinctly downscale and grubby. She noticed the brunette looking at her curiously, and with perhaps a hint of condescension. Well, Zanna thought, she didn’t look any worse than the guys she was with, who were all in shorts, sandals, and t shirts. Jeremy looked at least as bad as she did, since his khaki cutoffs had odd bleach marks, and his shirt was faded to an indeterminate grayish color. He seemed to sense her discomfort, though, because as he leaned back to look up at the women, he dropped an arm across the back of Zanna’s chair, a casually inclusive gesture which somehow made her one of them. Maia was introducing the other woman as Sarah Keeler, and the men all made polite noises. Jeremy said to Maia, “Have you met Zanna, yet?” She said, “Not officially, but I’ve heard a lot about you from Tom, naturally.”

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Zanna smiled, and murmured something appropriate. Maia went on “Actually you’re just the people we need to see. Sarah and I are co-producing a compilation album, to benefit Animal Relief Foundation. It’s going to be covers of oldies, and yes, we’re absolutely hoping to capitalize shamelessly on Pearl Jam’s success with Last Kiss. How about Sex Gun contributing a track?” Arik said suspiciously, “Aren’t those the nutcases that want all pets set free, or something?” “That’s ALF,” replied Sarah. Arik said, “As long as it’s not the wackos, I wouldn’t mind.” He looked at Jeremy, who shrugged. “Any ideas?” Arik asked him. “I know!” said Zanna unexpectedly. They looked at her in surprise. She continued, “‘This Magic Moment.’ Jay and the Americans did a syrupy version, but if you used the same instrumental effects you had on ‘I will find a way,’ and kind of dark and nasty with the vocals, it could be really effective.” She added, looking at Jeremy, “And you’re absolutely perfect for that.” “Thanks,” he said. “I think.” He gave her a speculative look. “Tell you what. We’ll do it if you’ll be in the video.” Zanna hesitated. Sarah said encouragingly, “It’s for a good cause,” and Zan capitulated. “Oh, all right,” she said, adding cautiously, “As long as you’re talking about a standard MTV type video.” Jeremy grinned, rather fiendishly, she thought. “How about your band?” Maia asked Zanna. “Would Jump Cut do a song for us?” Zan looked a little surprised, but answered, “Sure. Glad to. I can’t think of anything at the moment, but we’ll kick it around.” Kaoru said, “I’ve got one for you. ‘Downtown’.” He hummed a tune. “You know it?” Zanna said, “Petula Clark, wasn’t it?” Arik said thoughtfully, “Now that I’d like to hear. I bet Matt could come up with something appropriately updated. If he can do the Supremes as grunge rock, that kid can write guitar parts for anything.” Jeremy said innocently to Maia, “You should get Zan to talk her boyfriend into contributing. Go for the pop market as well.” Seeing Maia’s puzzled look, he added helpfully, “Technical Difficulties.”

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Maia said, “Who-” and Jeremy said, rather maliciously it seemed to Zanna, “You must not be reading Soundline lately. Nick Tzezna.” Sarah said, “I thought he was-” then broke off in some confusion. Jeremy finished “Married. He is,” and Zanna could have killed him. Maia drawled “Don’t be such an asshole, Jeremy.” She gave Zan a sympathetic look, and said, “All the same, if you do have an in with Tech Diff, you might mention it to them. They’d be a nice addition.” Zanna was grateful to her for smoothing over the awkwardness. She thought she dimly remembered that Maia and Jeremy had once been an item. She said, “I can ask, anyway.” She stood up. “I have to run. Nice to meet you both,” she added to the women. Sarah gave her a card and Zanna promised to call soon to get the details on the compilation project. Jeremy remarked, “Don’t hold your breath. She’s not so hot at returning phone calls,” and Zanna said shortly, “Some, I do.” “Ouch,” said Arik to Jeremy. Kaoru said to Zanna, “See you tomorrow, then?” and she nodded, although she would gladly have cancelled now – she didn’t think she could handle an entire morning of Jeremy in a caustic mood. She said to him frostily, “Thanks for breakfast,” and was surprised, not happily, when he stood and said, “I’ll walk you out.” Not caring to make an issue of it, she said goodbye to the others, and preceded him through the tables to the sidewalk. “So long,” she said pointedly. He ignored that, and accompanied her down the street. Okay, she thought, be that way. She stared straight ahead and walked rapidly, with her long, swinging stride. He kept pace with her. “Zanna.” “What,” she snapped. “I’m sorry. It was uncalled for.” She was, in spite of herself, a little disarmed. He went on “Maia’s right. I’m a jealous asshole. And I apologize for it. Abjectly.” He paused, then said carefully, “I would hate to see you get hurt.” She was thoroughly taken aback. Jeremy was worried about Nick

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hurting her? She tried to process that. He changed the subject. “You ever been to Point Parrish?” he asked her. “No.” “You’ll like it. It’s more challenging.” She said, with a touch of worry, “I hope I’m good enough.” “You are,” he said. Noticing her surprise, he added, “Yeah, I’ve seen you out a few times. You’re coming along nicely.” “Thanks.” She hadn’t noticed him, she thought. “We should take a trip up the coast some time,” he said. “There are some really beautiful places to surf.” He smiled at her, and now she was totally confused. What was with this ‘we’ stuff. “Or Hawaii,” he said. “Fantastic breaks there.” They reached the corner, where the Mexican grocery was, and stopped. Another of those moments when she had no idea what to say to him. She felt like she was back in chapter 2, and he was somewhere in chapter 7. “Well,” she said. She was facing him, shifting her weight from foot to foot. They looked at each other. For a moment, Zanna felt like blurting out something along the lines of, just tell me what you want. But then he probably would, and she didn’t think she could handle it. At times like this, though, he seemed so ordinary – not like Jeremy Kane, notorious rock star, dangerous ex-con and junkie, known for a violent temper and self destructive impulses. Not like the person who dated supermodels, whose picture appeared in glossy magazines, who was rich and famous. He was just a guy, a little scruffy, needing a haircut, who had a beautiful smile. Times like this, he seemed like someone she could be around… He picked up her hand, played with her fingers, feeling the calluses on the tips from playing guitar. He said unexpectedly and almost shyly, “I’m glad you like to surf.” She said inanely, “Me, too.” She looked at him, and hastily revised her previous opinion; he didn’t look the least bit ordinary, he was way too good-looking and your everyday guy on the street, even in Southern California, wasn’t built like that. And the way he made her feel scared the hell out of her. He said, “See you tomorrow, then,” and kissed her cheek. He turned, and walked back in the direction of the café, and she

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continued on towards Tom’s, somewhat bemused.

Jeremy was feeling the usual contradictory mix of emotions she aroused in him. Simple pleasure at time spent in her company, euphoria because that was apparently what this love thing did to you, frustration because if he told her, she’d run for miles. Jealousy over Nick Tzezna, longing and desire at her closeness when he was sitting next to her. Satisfaction at getting her to eat something (she was too thin; he was afraid she skipped a lot of meals). An odd protectiveness, when Maia and her friend came up, because he could tell Zanna often felt like she didn’t belong. It was one of so many things he wanted to say to her, that he felt that way, too, that it was one of the reasons he thought they should be together. Feeling like an outcast that didn’t mean you always had to be alone, did it? He wanted so badly to know her better. And he was all too aware of how easy it was to scare her off.

Arik and Kaoru had been joined at the table by Maia and Sarah. They were all drinking coffee, and evidently, from the sudden silence that fell, talking about him. Exasperated, he pulled up a chair from another table, and said, “What?” Maia said, with the forthrightness of an ex-lover who’s long over it, “You shouldn’t needle her like that, Jeremy.” “I know that, okay?” He caught the waitress’ eye, picked up Maia’s cup and pointed to himself. “So you’re all just sitting around and analyzing my love life?” he asked with a touch of sarcasm. “More like the lack of it,” Arik pointed out. “Well, I’m working on that,” Jeremy told him. He looked at Kaoru and said, “Since we’re on the subject – what’s with you, anyway?” “You mean, with Zanna?” Jeremy nodded, and everyone looked interested. Kaoru said resignedly, “Don’t worry, I’m no competition. We’re just friends.” Sarah said, “So she’s involved with Nick Tzezna. He’s such a charmer.” Maia said, “I thought she had something going with her young hunk of a guitar player.” She looked at Jeremy with some

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amusement. “Stiff competition.” “Yeah, thanks for the vote of confidence,” he told her. Maia laughed. “It’s good for you to have to work for it for a change.” Jeremy scowled. “This isn’t work, it’s more like slow torture.” “Then you should be grateful to us,” said Sarah. “We’ve given you a perfect excuse for seeing her. She obviously has a definite opinion on how ‘Magic Moment’ should be done.” Jeremy looked a bit more cheerful. “She did, didn’t she?” Then his face darkened, and he said morosely, “But she never does call me back.” “Don’t take that too personally,” said Kaoru. “She almost never calls me either. She doesn’t like phones. E-mail’s better with her.” Arik said to Jeremy, “You should get a computer. Actually,” he thought it over, “you should get a house.” “You kicking me out?” Jeremy asked sardonically. “Not at the moment,” said Arik. “But if you haven’t gotten a place by next spring, your ass is on the street, buddy.” Jeremy grinned. “I’ll work on it,” he said. Maia said, “I would think you’d have incentive now. Tom’s guest house is tiny; she won’t want to stay there forever.” Jeremy said gloomily, “She doesn’t believe in living together, unfortunately, so that’s no help.” Maia gave a gurgle of laughter. “So what, you’re going to marry her?” Jeremy said, quite seriously, “I would, tomorrow, if that was what she wanted. But I think she’s kind of into solitude.” The rest of them were in shock. No one, not even Arik, had realized just how deep Jeremy’s feelings for Zanna Martin went. Maia, for one, was finding it exceedingly ironic that he had fallen for someone even more noncommittal than himself. She said briskly, “Well, good luck to you, Jeremy. And if there’s anything I can do to help, let me know.” She rose, and Sarah followed suit. Maia said, “If you’re in town when we do the CD release party, it would be a perfect occasion for you to ask her to.” Jeremy was struck by this; simply asking Zanna for a date had not occurred to him.

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Chapter 11

To: Zanna From: Rachel Re: The Big Gig

Okay, it’s official – Jump Cut is playing the Oceans benefit! This is great – all day show, big crowd, name bands, lots of exposure. Uh….you do know who the headliner is?

To: Rachel From: Zanna Re: Oceans

Well, yes. Hard to miss. Btw, I’ve run into him a few times. Mixed results. I even surfed with him at Point Parrish (with Arik and Kaoru as well) but it was like a cease fire was in effect, we didn’t talk much and then it was safe topics like waves.

To: Zanna From: Rachel Re: JK

Not to presume to give personal advice here, but has it occurred to you that it might be easier to bow to the inevitable and…**gasp**…actually have a conversation with him about what’s going on? Clearly he’s not going to just give up. 103

The suspense is killing me…I can’t imagine what it’s doing to you.

To: Z From: Rachel Re: him, again

Hey, guess who I ran into last night in Santa Monica? That’s right, your old friend Jeremy Kane. Who was perfectly pleasant for the most part. He was with Tom Scott, who btw had lots of nice things to say about you and your band. Oh, and JK said to tell you, and I quote, he’s really looking forward to seeing you at Oceans.

To: Rachel From: Zan Re: gulp

That was probably sarcasm, since he’s left a couple of messages on my voice mail and I haven’t called him back. Matt says the same thing as you, get it over with. The problem is, I can never think what to say to him. I’m afraid if I start that conversation, he’ll tell me way more than I want to know.

Well, you crazy girl, what do you want? Since you haven’t just ruthlessly choked him off, which we both know you’re capable of doing, my keen legal brain surmises you do have some interest?

I don’t know what I want. On one hand, I sure don’t want to get involved with a violence prone heroin addict. On the other – there are times when he seems like a completely different person than Sex Gun’s infamous singer, and I’m attracted to that person. But it’s more complicated than that- I’ve got my own problems, god knows….

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Zanna had decided that things couldn’t continue on the same way. She was going to have to have it out with Jeremy. She had only seen him once since the day at Point Parrish, and that had been an unmitigated disaster. She was been with Nick at a club called Instant Karma, on one of the nights set aside for impromptu sets by the locals and whoever else might be in town. You never knew who would show, anyone from Sheryl Crow to Paul McCartney might turn up, but it was usually a mix of studio musicians and recognizable faces. On this particular night, Nick was talked into doing an acoustic solo version of “Gone,” and Maia Stadick played “City of New Orleans” with most of the crowd doing the chorus for her. Then Jeremy, whom Zan hadn’t noticed, got up and joined Maia for several numbers. Zanna was a little surprised at how well he played guitar. “Why doesn’t he play with Sex Gun?” she asked Nick. Nick answered, “He does, in the studio. I don’t know why he doesn’t play live. He’s good enough – better than I am, anyway, and it’s never stopped me,” he added with a laugh. Zanna laughed, too, because it was true – Nick was a sloppy guitar player, but Tech Diff kept their songs basic enough that it didn’t matter, and their lead player, Tim Danna, was very good. Nick’s strength was in his distinctive voice, and his ability to write songs gritty enough for alternative rock, and radio friendly enough for the pop charts. And of course, his looks – sort of Brad Pitt meets the Clash – didn’t hurt either. Arik Jones had once said that Nick Tzezna was every Midwestern housewife’s bad boy fantasy. (What Jeremy had said was unprintable.) Jeremy and Maia finished their turn, to enthusiastic applause. They were talking and laughing together as they walked off the stage. Zanna noted, with a small pang, how relaxed Jeremy seemed – a side of him she didn’t get to see. She wondered if they were back on again, and was surprised to find how much she didn’t like the idea. She chided herself mentally – this was not her business. Jeremy had seen her, though, and he left Maia’s side and worked his way through the crowd to where she and Nick were standing. He stopped in front of her, and said “Hello, Zanna,” without smiling, flicking an unfriendly look in Nick’s direction.

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Zanna took the cowardly route. She said, “Hi,” then, mostly to Nick, “I need to talk to Maia about the Animal Relief project. Excuse me for a moment?” Nick nodded, looking slightly amused, and Jeremy scowled. She made her escape. True to her word, she did head in Maia’s direction. She was sitting at a table with Kara Lewis, and Sarah, and a woman Zanna didn’t recognize. Maia and Sarah both greeted her warmly, and Kara leaned back and snagged an empty chair from another table. Patting it invitingly, she said insouciantly, “Join us! This looks like a meeting of the Sex Gun girlfriends and exs club.” Zanna sat down, raising her eyebrows in unspoken enquiry. Maia said dryly, “Zanna, meet Kara, Arik’s ex, and Jill, his current.” Jill demurred. “More like old friends, actually.” Kara told Zan, “Steve Stanley was Jill’s brother.” To Jill, she added, “And don’t get coy with us, missy! I saw your Beamer in his driveway on Saturday morning.” Jill laughed, and blushed. She was an attractive woman with short brown hair and glasses, who didn’t look the least like a rock star’s girlfriend. Kara said, “Then we have Maia, survivor of Jeremy, and of course yourself, who rumor has it he badly wants to be next.” She looked at Zanna with bright eyed interest. Maia said easily, “Let the poor girl be, Kara, she looks like she’s had an overdose of testosterone exposure lately.” Sarah said, “I can see why,” nodding across the room. Zanna looked, too. Jeremy and Nick were still standing where she’d left them, and it didn’t look like a friendly conversation. Zanna shut her eyes for a moment, and opened them to find the other women regarding her sympathetically. “I hate men,” she said. Sarah patted her hand. “Of course you do,” she said. Maia asked, “What about your guitar player? I think he’s a honey.” Zanna grinned. “He is,” she admitted. She went on “Animal Relief was my excuse for coming over here, so in the interest of keeping me honest, let me tell you that Tech Diff’s willing to contribute, Jump Cut’s recorded two tracks, one with me on vocals, and one with Matt, and you’re welcome to either, or both.”

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“What are they? asked Kara, with interest. “I did ‘Downtown,’ and Matt did an old Grass Roots thing. ‘Walk a Million Miles’ I think it’s called.” “Good choices,” said Kara. “Nice and catchy. I’m doing ‘Son of a Preacher Man,’ which is stupid of me, because who could do it better than Dusty?” “Yours is great, too, just different,” Maia told her. She grinned. “Me, I went for the unlikely. I’m doing the Rascals ‘Good Loving.’” Zanna laughed. “I can hardly wait to get this CD. All it needs is Courtney Love singing ‘Leader of the Pack.’” She glanced back and saw that Jeremy had vanished, and Nick was talking to someone she didn’t know. “Oh, good,” she said. “All clear.” She pushed back her chair and started to say “Nice to have met you-” when Sarah flashed her a warning look. But it was too late. Jeremy literally caught her by surprise, as was his wont, gripping her arm and almost lifting her onto her feet. Maia said sharply, “Don’t manhandle the girl, Jeremy!” He ignored her. Swinging Zan around to face him, he said to her, “I’m sick of leaving messages on your fucking voice mail, since you never bother to return them. We need to talk.” Zanna said tightly, “No, we don’t. Not here.” “Yeah, well, you had your chance to make it somewhere else.” Her temper flared. She said, “You arrogant son of a bitch, what gives you the idea that you can just have your way any time-” “What?! I never get my way when it comes to you, Zanna-” “-and why the hell should I talk to you, since every time I do, you’re nasty and sarcastic and-” “Just a goddamn minute! Who-” “And the least you can do is leave me alone, when I’m on a bloody date!” she finished. Jeremy looked furious. Making an obvious effort to control his temper, he said through his teeth, “Okay, then. If not now, when?” He had her there, and he knew it. In all fairness, she could not refuse to talk to him at all. He let go of her, folded his arms across his chest, and waited, his expression sardonic. She took a deep breath, and bit the bullet. “The Oceans show,” she told him. “I’ll see you there.”

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He said, quietly enough, “I want your word on that, Zanna.” She looked mutinous, but said, “I promise.” “All right. Until then,” he said. Ironically he added, “Enjoy your date.” “I was,” she told him, still angry. He said, “Tell me something, Zan. Do you like them married so you don’t have to make any promises?” Stung, she retaliated in kind. “Tell me something, Jeremy,” she mimicked. “Do you have to work at being such an asshole, or does it come naturally?” He looked as though she had slapped him. No, worse, because the time she had, it didn’t seem to faze him at all. They stared at each other, and it was as though suddenly she could see behind his anger, frustration and bad temper, and what was there was hurt and longing, and it shocked her. “I - have to go,” she said, not very steadily, and turned her back on him. She rejoined Nick, who took a look at her and said, “Do you two ever manage to not piss each other off?” “Not often, no,” she answered. “What did he say to you?” “Not much,” said Nick evasively. She decided she probably didn’t want to know anyway. She said to him, “I’m sorry.” He slipped a comforting arm around her, and said, “Don’t worry about it, Z. Not your fault a psychopath’s fallen in love with you.” Oddly, she felt like defending Jeremy. “He’s not as bad as everyone makes out.” Nick, watching her closely, gave a short whistle of astonishment. “Good god, Zanna, don’t tell me this is a two way street?” Zanna felt like she was breaking into little pieces. She was still upset with Jeremy, but more so with herself for losing it with him, and illogically, with Nick for noticing too much. For an awful moment, she thought she was going to cry. Nick’s arm tightened around her, and he said softly, “Oh, Zanna, I am sorry.” She turned her face against his shoulder, and his lips brushed against her hair as he said, “ I’m beginning to understand.” She said waveringly, “Good, you can explain it to me. Because I haven’t a clue.” He took her arm, but unlike Jeremy, he did it gently. “Let’s go

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somewhere and talk,” he said. Also unlike with Jeremy, she felt a measure of relief as she said, “Okay.”

Jeremy, having been yelled at some more by Maia, and lectured by Kara on his lack of tact, consideration, and sensitivity towards women, was moodily watching Zanna and Nick as they departed. He knew he hadn’t handled it well; he almost never did. He decided he hated Nick Tzezna. He knew this was unreasonable, but he still hated him, mostly for being everything Jeremy wasn’t. Nick’s easy manner and the way Zanna responded to it, made Jeremy feel as stupid and jealous, homely and insecure as your average sixteen year old geek. Love was a great leveler, he thought. Made no difference if you were a kid, or a millionaire rock star. A chump was still a chump. Jeremy sighed. He was never going to wind up with the girl unless he came up with a better strategy.

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Chapter 12

Zanna and Matt met for coffee very early the morning of the Oceans show. She was on edge, having gotten very little sleep the night before. Even a six mile run at 5:30 a.m. hadn’t helped her to relax. “I need some advice here,” she said, as they stood in line at a beachside coffee bar. “I’m going to have to deal with Jeremy today.” Matt said, “Well, I think it’s about time, but what made you decide now?” “Because I said I’d talk to him, and anyway it’s driving me crazy. I can’t keep this up – wondering where I’ll run into him next, not knowing if he’s going to start a fight, kiss me, or act like my next best friend. It’s nerve-wracking.” They stepped up to the counter, and ordered – coffee for Matt, chai for Zan. She continued, waiting for Matt to doctor his French roast with cream, “I kept thinking he’d drop this, forget about it, go on to someone else, but it’s been months.” Matt agreed. “He’s persistent, all right.” He looked at Zanna. She had on very tatty jeans and a black sweater. She wore no make up, and he noticed that her bangs were uneven again – she had a habit of chopping them off when they got in the way. She was, he thought, completely beautiful. He had no trouble understanding why Jeremy couldn’t forget her. He remembered Jeremy’s sarcastic remark about Nick, that if he’d had sex with her, for sure he was in love, and felt a sharp stab of envy towards Jeremy, who knew. Then he thought that over, and did a mental revision. At least he, Matt, got to be with her. Maybe they weren’t lovers, but he was sure as hell closer to her than any other man. He wouldn’t want to trade 110

that, not for a one night stand. “Beach?” he asked, and she nodded. They left the cafe and crossed the boulevard. It was damp and gray, the common morning fog effect. Not many people were electing to be on the beach, but Zanna loved the ocean in any weather, and Matt loved watching her revel in it. They sat down on the sand, Zan kicking off her sandals and digging her toes in. They sipped in silence for a moment, then she said, “So what’s the best way to do this, do you think?” “You mean, Jeremy?” She nodded. He said, thinking it over, “Sex Gun’s sound check. You can get access, there’ll be people around, and it’s a limited time frame, if what you want are boundaries.” “I do. Definitely. Although,” she added wryly, “It’s not like having an audience ever seems to slow him down. I don’t think he has any inhibitions.” “Impaired edit function,” agreed Matt. “Are you afraid of him Z?” “Not of anything he might do to me physically. Of what he could do to my head, yes, I am.” She stared out at the grayness of water and sky. Matt said slowly, “So, if you’re going to finally talk to him – what’s your plan? What are you going to say?” She admitted, “I haven’t got that far.” “In all fairness, Zanna, you can’t just keep stringing him along.” “I’m not!” she began indignantly, then paused. “Am I?’ she asked. Matt just looked at her. She said in dismay, “Oh, drat, I kind of am, aren’t I?” She groaned, and dropped her head onto her knees. “This is hopeless,” she said. Matt reached over and messed up her hair, before singing the chorus to The Clash’s ‘Should I Stay or Should I Go?’ “Thanks a lot,” she told him. “That’s really helpful.” He smiled at her affectionately. “You know what your problem is?” “If you say ‘fear of commitment’ I’ll smack you,” she warned him. He laughed. “That might be one of them, but it’s not what I was thinking this time. No,” he continued, “the problem is that you and

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Jeremy are way too much alike.”

The Oceans benefit was at an outdoor stadium, and it was developing into the perfect day for the show. The morning was set aside for sound checks, with the concert starting in the early afternoon. Jump Cut was scheduled for the mid- afternoon slot, considerably ahead of Sex Gun, who were closing the show. Spike found out when Sex Gun’s sound check was, and Zanna, with Matt along for preliminary moral support, went to find Jeremy. They already under way. Matt, listening as they showed their access passes and went into the tunnel leading to the stage, said, “Try Dying.” Zanna said nothing: her stomach was in knots. They were behind the stage, where a Sex Gun roadie halted them until he took a good look at Zanna. Then he told them “Go around to the left, the sightlines are better there.” Matt gave Zanna a little push. “You’re on your own now,” he said. She nodded, feeling slightly sick, and moved to where she could see the stage but was hopefully unobtrusive. Her plan was to catch Jeremy once the sound check was over, but unfortunately he noticed her right away. Arik had already begun the intro to “Body Language,” when Jeremy loped across the stage, leaving his bandmates staring after him in confusion. Before Zanna realized what he was doing, he caught her by the arm, and reached into his hip pocket. Then, incredibly, he fastened one side of a pair of handcuffs to her wrist. She stared at him in disbelief. “I’m sorry about this,” he said, snapping the cuff to the lighting truss. “But we really do have to talk, and unfortunately I don’t trust you to stick around for it.” Zanna looked from him to the cuff, wild eyed. “What are you doing! You can’t… we don’t – we barely know each other!” He grinned at her over his shoulder as he walked back onstage. “Nice pun,” he called, and looked satisfied when her cheeks flushed rosily. Zanna gave the cuff a jerk, testing it, but that hurt so she let her arm dangle from the truss instead. Matt wandered up just then, took in the situation, and started to grin. She glared at him. “It isn’t funny!” she snapped. He tried unsuccessfully to straighten his face. “Z, I’m sorry, but

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it is,” he said. “In a kinky kind of way. You know,” he went on, “you gotta give the guy credit for ingenuity.” Matt shook his head, half admiringly. Out on the stage, Sex Gun was surging through “After the Hurricane.” Matt put his hands on Zanna’s shoulders, gave them a little squeeze, and said, “Good luck.” Still grinning, he bounded down the stairs, to watch from out front. Zanna yelled “Traitor!” after him, but he just waved without looking back. The crew were all giving her a wide berth, but a young woman with short spiky platinum hair came up and stood next to her. Eyeballing the handcuffs, she said, “Captive audience, huh?” and giggled. Zan couldn’t think of any clever rejoinders, so she settled for staring stonily out at the stage, where the music had stopped and there seemed to be some dialogue going between tech crew and band. She heard Arik call out “Try turning it up a notch,” and watched Jeremy rock the mike stand back and forth between his hands as he waited. All in all, Sex Gun seemed in an upbeat mood, very loose and relaxed. In a way, Zanna envied them – they were old hands at this, used to performing in front of huge crowds and very comfortable with it. She, on the other hand, was nervous as hell about Jump Cut’s festival debut. The blonde offered, “I’m Zoë Travis. From Soundline?” She started to hold out her hand, looked again at the cuffs, and shrugged. “I suppose there’s no point in asking what this is about?” “None whatsoever.” “You’re Zanna from Jump Cut, right?” Zanna stayed silent. Zoë said, “Hey, don’t talk to me. I can print wild rumors instead.” “Just my luck,” said Zanna, through clenched teeth. “Hey, kidding.” They listened to the slow, eerie guitar intro to “I Will Find a Way.” Zoë leaned closer to Zanna and said over the music, “So you’re the one who broke up the Jeremy-Jaime Cage romance?” “No comment.” “And I hear he’s obsessed with some woman who won’t give him the time of day – that would be you?” “No comment,” Zanna repeated. It was hard to act dignified when you were chained to a light tower.

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“Okay,” said Zoë agreeably. “You want to tell me how you met Jeremy?” “Not particularly, no.” Zoë said thoughtfully, “You know, you’d be better off going on record with something. It’s not much good just saying ‘no comment’ when Jaime Cage has been telling everyone that Jeremy left her for, and I quote, that punk slut from Jump Cut.” She caught Zanna’s startled sideways look, and said, “Oh yeah. You can thank the woman scorned for that MusicTown article.” She went on, “But by now, everyone’s heard the rumors, and you can bet you’re going to be getting it from all sides. It’s just too juicy. Jeremy Kane in love? Wild. Especially since you’re in the band that’s the flavor of the month.” Zanna felt like swearing. Instead, she said disbelievingly, “Punk slut from Jump Cut?” She didn’t think her look was punk at all. Zoë grinned. “Try saying it fast three times,” she said. The band seemed to be done. Zanna’s heart started to imitate a sledgehammer. She watched Jeremy leave the stage, stopping to talk to a guy with a clipboard. Then he was walking towards her, his eyes meeting hers steadily, his face hard to read. She couldn’t breathe. He stopped in front of her. “Go away, Zoë,” he said, his eyes not leaving Zanna’s face. “This isn’t for public consumption.” “Can I have an interview later?” dared Zoë. “Yeah. Talk to Frank, he’ll work you in somewhere.” Zoë was buoyant. “Excellent!” She gave Zanna a friendly look. “Nice not talking to you,” she said cheekily, as she departed. Jeremy looked down at Zanna, and his lips curved into a reluctant smile. “You are such trouble,” he told her. “With a capital T and that rhymes with Z…god, it’s good to see you.” He bent down and kissed her, a slow, sweet, meltingly tender kiss. Then he drew back, and said “Oh” and pulled something out of his jeans to unlock the handcuffs. The circlet had left a red and angry mark. Jeremy took her hand in both of his, and gently rubbed her wrist, saying, “I’m sorry about doing it like this. Did I hurt you?” “I…no. Look, you wanted to talk, here I am. So talk,” she said, a little desperately. He was absently cradling her hand against his

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chest, and it was terribly distracting. He was smiling down at her. “So impatient,” he said softly. “You’ve been avoiding me for weeks, what’s the rush?” He let her hand drop down, still lightly retaining possession of her fingers. He brushed her hair back from her forehead, and traced a line down her cheek. She raised her eyes to his face. The rather beautiful mouth was still curved in a half smile, but his eyes, with their strange inky color, were intent. His hand was against the side of her head, warm and caressing. She felt a sudden rush of pure desire; dizzying, hot, liquid. Unthinkingly she stepped forward, into the heat of his body, and there was no chance for second thoughts as his arms came around her with almost terrifying quickness. He half lifted her off the ground, as his mouth came down on hers, urgent and demanding this time. She stretched against him, her body undulating in his arms, as hers slid over the solid muscle of his shoulders. Oh god, he felt good, she thought. She kissed him back, hard and deep, their bodies molded tightly together in a close embrace… Near by, someone coughed. Then cleared his throat ostentatiously. Without looking up, Jeremy made a vague go-away gesture with one hand, still kissing Zanna and holding her closely against him with his other arm. Arik’s voice said apologetically, “Sorry to interrupt the happy reunion, but you might want to know that you’re being videotaped.” They froze, more or less in midkiss. Jeremy tried to think if this mattered. Not as much as having her in his arms, he decided. But she was already pulling back, and reluctantly he let her go. Damn, he thought. He looked closely at her, but she wasn’t meeting his eyes. Damn, damn, damn, she looked ready to take off again. He briefly considered the advantages of the handcuffs, regretfully concluded he wasn’t ready to be branded an S & M weirdo by RockNet, or MTV or whoever it was. Firmly he took her by the hand, said “Excuse us,” pleasantly to the interested onlookers who had somehow gathered unnoticed, and led her out back. There was absolutely no privacy to be had. Members of various bands, roadies, journalists and assorted hangers on meandered around, in and out of trailers, some moving purposefully, some just hanging out. Jeremy abandoned, not without a pang, a blissful

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vision of the two of them finding a private corner somewhere and passionately making love once again. Stealing a look at her face, he thought he’d be doing good if he could even get her to talk. He led her over to the steps of Sex Gun’s trailer. He could hear Daniel inside, talking to someone quietly, and fingering a guitar, as usual. He said, “Here. Sit,” rather peremptorily and she raised an eyebrow, put her hands on her hips, and mimicked “Sit. Speak!” as though she was talking to a dog. He grinned, and sat down on the steps. She joined him, which he counted as a good sign. They sat in silence for a moment, side by side. The steps weren’t all that wide, his arm brushed against hers as he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, and they were both sharply aware of the contact. She spoke first. “This was your idea,” she reminded him. He looked at her consideringly. “All right,” he said agreeably. “I’ll get to the most immediate point.” He could feel her tension. He leaned back, resting his arms on the step behind him, legs stretched out comfortably, watching her closely. He said, “I want us to work together. Specifically, I want to finish the song we started that first night.” He could have sworn a look of relief crossed her face. She sang softly “Da, da da, no mystery, it’s in the chemistry.” She paused and asked, “That one?” “Yeah. I liked what we did so far. But we should finish it together.” She thought this over. “Well, okay,” she said. “Get a guitar. And my notebook,” she added with a darkling look. “That’s what I wrote it down in.” “I know. In a minute. There’s something else.” He saw her eyes flare apprehensively, and thought to himself, god damn it, that kid in her band was right. She thought he was going to move on to the more personal aspect of their acquaintance, he could see it. He felt distinctly cheated, after that kiss. She was edging away from him, gathering her long legs under her. Quickly he said, “I admit, I read through your notebook. That Dark Angel song. Do you have a melody for it?” Puzzled, she stopped her stealthy movement, and shook her head. “It’s one of those that was just words. I couldn’t hear anything.

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Matt fooled around with it a little, but nothing ever came out right.” “Can I have it, then?” He went on, “Because I can hear it, almost, anyway, so if you don’t mind, I’d like to play around and see what I come up with.” She looked surprised. “Sure,” she said. “Have at it.” With a look that was almost teasing, she went on, “Better still, record it, have a mega hit, and send me lots of royalty checks so I can quit my day job.” He returned lightly, “Do my best for ya, Z,” and the atmosphere eased perceptibly as they exchanged a smile. Giving him a speculative look, she said, “There is something I’d like to know.” “Sure. Anything.” “Are you why Jump Cut got this gig?” “You got it because you’re a good band with a hit record who fit the format,” he told her. “Yeah, I mentioned to the organizers that they should check you out. But that’s all it was.” Slowly she said, “Not that I don’t appreciate the career boost, but…” He cut her off. “That’s nice of you,” he said cheerfully. “Everyone else seems to think I’m stalking you.” “Are you?” she asked bluntly. He glanced down at her. “I don’t have any evil intentions,” he said. “I’m not going to lie to you – I fell for you hard and fast that night, and I still haven’t recovered from it. But I understand that you’re in a different place. I don’t have to like it, but I can accept that.” Unhappily, she said haltingly, “I can’t…I mean, you…my life is complicated right now, I don’t know-” she broke off, biting her lip. Jeremy said gently, “Look, it’s okay. You don’t want to go there, it’s all right.” He left out any reference to her recent greeting with an effort. “But it’s not often that you come across someone who you can write music with, not the way we can. There’s some kind of magic there, Zanna. We’d be crazy to let that go, just because we slept together and you think it was a horrible mistake.” She looked even more distressed. “I didn’t mean it like that. It’s not that I don’t – oh hell!” She blew upward, ruffling her bangs, and closed her eyes. Then she opened them, drew a deep breath, and

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twisted sideways to face him on the steps. Surprisingly, she took hold of his hand, and gripped it tightly. She said, “Okay, I really sort of hate this whole devastating honesty trip you’re on, but maybe it’s for the best. I don’t know what place it is that I’m in, all right? I don’t know if that night was the best thing, or the worst thing, that I’ve ever done. Sometimes, I don’t know if I love you or hate you. And then I think, my god, I hardly know him!” “That could be remedied,” he pointed out. She disregarded this. “All I know is that ever since that stupid MTV thing, my life has turned into this crazy rock and roll rollercoaster, and I can barely keep up with it. I look at you, and on one hand you’re someone I’m drawn to, and on the other I see someone who is everything I want to leave behind.” There was a raggedness in her voice as she added, “I’ve had more than enough self-destruction to last me a lifetime.” Carefully, he said, “People do change, Z. But you won’t know without giving it a chance.” She looked away from him. “There are other things, too.” He thought, like Nick Tzezna? Like your lead guitar player? but kept those thoughts to himself. Instead, he said aloud, “None of that sounds to me like a reason why we can’t play music together.” She was silent. He found he was almost holding his breath. Then she said, “So get your guitar.”

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Chapter 13

Arik and Johnny arrived back at the trailer to be greeted with an unlikely sight: Jeremy and Zanna Martin, sitting on the steps, he with an acoustic guitar, she with a notebook balanced on her knee. They were half singing, half talking the lines as Jeremy played, then breaking off as she said, “That A chord doesn’t work there.” “Yeah, okay. How about-” He did a simple but catchy progression. “Mmm-again.” He obliged. She was leaning forward, her head dropped, eyes closed, rocking slightly. Her lips moved as she framed the words with the music. Her eyes snapped open, and she smiled and said, “Yes.” Jeremy smiled back at her warmly, but all he said was, “From the top, then,” and started playing again. They were both singing, barely audibly at first, eyes locked, their voices growing stronger and more confident as they got into the rhythm of it. Arik noticed how close they were sitting, Zanna sideways on the step with her crossed legs up against Jeremy’s thigh, her hand resting casually on his knee. They got to the end of what they’d done so far, looking mutually pleased, and Zanna started writing in her notebook. Johnny said with interest, “That sounds pretty good. What is it?” Jeremy answered, “Something that’s been a long time coming,” and Johnny said, “Play it again.” Jeremy said to Zanna, “You do the verses solo, and I’ll come in on the chorus,” and she nodded. They played it through at a faster tempo this time, and then Daniel opened the trailer door and said “That’s pretty good,” and they all laughed. Johnny was just saying they should set up inside, 119

when Arik thought of something. He asked Zanna, “Aren’t you playing after Bliss?” “That’s right.” She looked enquiring. “Because if I’m not mistaken, they’ve been playing for at least twenty minutes already.” “Oh!” She slid off the step, saying, “My band must be having a coronary!” Johnny said easily, “Oh, relax. Bliss does the longest goddamn encores,” and Zanna laughed at that. Daniel said, “Come back after your show and we could work out more of an arrangement for that song.” Arik said, “Give the girl a break, Dan, not everyone wants to play all night the way you do.” He added in an aside to Zan, “But really, we should all get together soon, okay?” Jeremy put his guitar aside, stood up and stretched lazily. He remarked, “Well, Z, looks like by popular vote, this one goes to Sex Gun. Jump Cut can have first choice next time, if you like.” Her expression was rueful. “Probably a moot point,” she answered somewhat obscurely. “But this sounds like a Sex Gun song anyway. You’ll have to do the vocals, though, your fans will fall down dead if they hear a female singer on a Sex Gun release.” “Do ‘em good, expand their horizons,” Johnny told her. She grinned, but said, “I really have to run, now.” Jeremy’s hand shot out and caught her wrist. “Are you leaving tonight?” he asked. She nodded, and said, “We start a short campus tour tomorrow. But first, we’re going to catch you guys closing the show.” She grinned. “So make it good, huh?” She saw the question in his eyes, and said softly, “I’ll see you before we leave.” She took off, literally, breaking into a run as she headed for the stage. They could hear Kelly Ross, Bliss’ lead singer, calling “Thank you! We love you, California!” in his English accent, and they watched appreciatively as Zanna’s stride lengthened and she adroitly avoided a collision with one of The Followers, who swore at her. She ignored him, and turned into the cavernous entrance to the stadium, still going full speed. Johnny said, “I like that girl.” Daniel said, “That song needs a bridge after the third verse.” Arik looked at Jeremy and said, “Well, that sounded promising.”

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He wasn’t talking about the song. Jeremy was still gazing off in the direction she’d gone. He was feeling a weird mix of emotions – the creative high that comes with doing work you know is good, delirious joy because she had said she’d see him later, and underlying anxiety – how was he going to make this work? Even without the complications she had referred to (which he took to mean Nick and/or Matt) they were both likely to be on tour for months, they were based in different parts of the country, she obviously still had a lot of reservations about him personally…. Arik, who after all knew him of old, had a fairly shrewd idea of what was going on in his head. Clasping Jeremy’s shoulder with a broad, tanned hand, he said comfortingly, “We’ll talk to whoever’s in charge of the Big Day Out schedule. What’s one more band, for them? We’ll talk to the label. We’ll send “Taste the Pain” to every radio station in Australia if we have to.” Daniel said supportively, “And if we get her to jam with us, she’ll get to know you better.” And Johnny said cheerfully, “We can always take out a contract on Nick Tzezna.” Tanner appeared then and said, “Aren’t you supposed to be talking to VH1?” There was a collective groan from the band – it was one thing to sit down with Kurt Loder, but the other music channel’s interviewers tended to be young and either irritatingly cocky, or equally annoyingly star stuck. Daniel asked, “Do we all have to go?” just as their press officer, a harried individual named Frank whose thankless job it was to try and make sure Sex Gun showed up for interviews on schedule and didn’t commit any indictable offenses, hustled up. Hearing the question, he said, “Jeremy does, and at least one other.” “Who’s got a quarter,” said Johnny. “I did the last one, it’s someone else’s turn,” said Arik. Daniel said to Johnny, “If you do this one, I’ll do MTV.” Johnny said frankly, “That’s a rip. MTV’ll be Kurt, I don’t mind Kurt.” “But it’ll take longer,” argued Daniel. “We have to go now,” said Frank. He dug a quarter out of his pocket, used to Sex Gun squabbles, and said, “Call it.”

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Daniel and Johnny both said “Heads” simultaneously, and started laughing. Daniel said, “Paper, scissors, rock” and he was scissors to Johnny’s paper. Johnny said hopefully, “Best two out of three?” but Arik intervened and ordered “Beat it!” and the drummer reluctantly went with Jeremy and Frank. Jeremy said, “I don’t know what you’re bitching about, I have to do a lot more of this crap than anyone else,” and Johnny retorted, “What you get for being the frontman.” Frank said, “You’ll be asked about ‘Hurricane’ and the tour schedule,” and Jeremy remarked “What tour schedule? I haven’t seen anything except Australia in January.” “It’s not all final, that’s why,” Frank told him. “But it looks like some dates in Europe next month, a break, Australia for Big Day Out, with some solo shows in Sydney and Melbourne, then the US tour.” Jeremy said ominously, “There had better be a decent interval between the Southern Hemisphere stint and beginning the US tour. I’m not doing any of that three months straight on the road crap.” Frank sighed a little. Everyone in the Sex Gun machinery had learned the hard way that the band had final approval over every detail of their careers. Despite their wild reputation, they were remarkably savvy in many ways. Jeremy had always paid attention to the business side of being an entertainer, and he could be inflexible about many issues. Frank glanced sideways at the lead singer’s rather stern profile, and said, slightly nervously, “You’ll probably get some questions about your…um, personal life, as well.” “Christ,” muttered Jeremy, “you’d think they’d get sick of it after three fucking years.” He threw his head back and yelled at the top of his lungs “I’m off smack! ” which drew some startled looks from passersby. Frank started to say “Actually, that’s not what-” when a production assistant spied them and shepherded them over to a temporary set. Another assistant pushed them into canvas director’s chairs, and clipped microphones to their t shirts. Someone noticed that Jeremy’s shirt read “Fuck Proposition 89” and there was some dithering until he finally took it off and put it on again backwards. The interviewer, young, blonde, female, had a distinct attitude. Sometimes they flirted, sometimes they drooled, and sometimes

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they acted like they were on 60 Minutes. This one was of the latter persuasion – J-school grad, diagnosed Jeremy, somewhat amused because she seemed very disposed to dislike them. Her first question was innocuous enough – how did they become involved with the Oceans Benefit? Jeremy fielded that one, saying that as Southern California natives and regular surfers, shoreline quality was a cause dear to their hearts, and they welcomed the chance to help. She came back with the expected question about “Hurricane” – how did they feel about the overwhelmingly positive reaction it was getting? Johnny gave the stock answer: we think it’s the best thing we’ve done so far, very satisfying to be reaching a lot of people, blah, blah. Her follow up was more incisive. Crisply she said to Jeremy, “A lot of people were surprised to hear you were still alive, much less still together as a band.” He replied blandly, “Well, I think Mark Twain addressed that best, and I can’t really say it any better.” She gave him a narrow look, and said, “You’re almost as well known for substance abuse as you are for music. How are you holding up, being on tour again?” Jeremy said, “Fine. Thank you for your concern,” and bared his teeth in a way that only vaguely resembled a smile. She was persistent, though. “Does that mean you’re clean now?” It sounded funny, because she seemed so prissy and rather obviously not comfortable with drug nomenclature, and Jeremy couldn’t help it, he started to laugh. He said, “Well, at the moment I’m kind of hot and sweaty to be honest, because we’ve been hanging around here for most of the day-” and she said, between her teeth, “I meant, are you using-” and Jeremy held out his arms and said, “You want to check?” Then he said, “Of course, some people shoot up in places where it doesn’t show so much,” and he stood up facing her, unzipped his jeans and started to slide them down his hips. The interviewer was shocked speechless, and her face was going red, Jeremy noticed, pleased. Catching Frank’s appalled expression, he looked straight into the camera, gave a dazzling smile, and said, “Just kidding.” He hitched his jeans back into place and sat down again. Calmly, he told her, “The only drug habit I’ve got now is caffeine, but that’s one thing that I definitely use more of when

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we’re on tour.” She had recovered somewhat, and was going for the jugular. “You’ve written some very beautiful and sensitive love songs,” she began. “Thank you,” interjected Jeremy, grinning. She went on, “But you have a reputation for generally regarding women as sex objects-” He interrupted. “Look, if all you want to talk about is sex and drugs, this is going to be one short interview,” he said sardonically. “Because I haven’t done one in years, and the other in months. So maybe we should go back to the rock and roll part of the equation.” She stared at him, working it out. “You’re telling me you’re off drugs and celibate?” she said disbelievingly. “Yeah, that’s about it,” he confirmed. “Why?” “Well, you know, heroin’s nasty stuff when you come right down to it…” “Not that! You’re known for going through women the way some people use Kleenex-” Jeremy said, “ I definitely think that’s overstated, considering the last relationship I was in spanned over a year.” She said flatly, “So what’s changed?” He said easily, “What’s different now is I know who I want to be with. At the moment, it’s not really possible, but unless I find out there’s no way it’s going to happen, I’d rather wait than be with anyone else.” She said, “I take it you’re talking about-” At a warning look from both of them, she finished, “the same woman you recently referred to as ‘nirvana’?” Jeremy said, “Yeah, and I should probably just shut up now-” “Amen,” muttered Johnny. “Because I was really in trouble with her over that,” he continued. “But I’m not going to lie to you, or anyone. You ask me about women, well, I’m in love with one person, and she’s the only one I want, and I hope before too long we end up in the same place.” She said, “Isn’t it true that she’s romantically linked to at least one other rock star?” Jeremy said shortly, “Things change.”

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“And in the meantime, you’re just going to save yourself for her?” She sounded sarcastic, and Jeremy was beginning to get annoyed. “You got it,” he said sharply. “At this point in my life, being with a woman isn’t about fucking my brains out. It’s about connecting with someone on all levels, emotionally, creatively, psychically, cognitively, physically, and yes, sexually. This is the first person with whom I’ve felt that complete connection, but so far the logistics of our situations are such that we haven’t been able to explore it. But it’s a rare and magical thing, and well worth waiting for. She’s the most incredible person I’ve ever known, and I would like to be her partner in every sense of the word. I love her, okay? It’s as simple, and as complicated, as that. I love her in ways you can’t begin to imagine. And in the meantime, given how I feel about her, it’s no hardship to keep my tongue out of anyone else’s mouth, and my-” He finished the sentence in such anatomically explicit terms that the interviewer’s jaw dropped and she went beet red. The camera and sound crew were grinning hugely, and the assistant remarked to the producer “Good thing it’s not live.” Jeremy unclipped the mike and crossed the makeshift set in a couple of long strides. Johnny said politely to the interviewer, “Nice chatting with you,” and followed suit. “Well, that went really well,” he remarked as they walked away. Frank was speechless. Jeremy said, “Look on the bright side. They can’t use it – they’re not allowed to put those words on the air,” but he was feeling a bit uneasy, all the same. “You’d better track down Zanna,” Johnny told him. “You’ve got some pre-emptive explaining to do.” Jeremy was beginning to kick himself mentally. “How bad is it?” he asked. “I mean, she already knows how I feel about her.” “Doesn’t mean she wants to hear about it on TV,” pointed out Johnny. He took Jeremy by the arm, and steered him towards the stadium entrance. “You need to talk to her before anyone else does,” he said. “It won’t be as bad if she hears it from you.” “Oh, fuck,” said Jeremy despairingly. “I can’t believe I screwed up this fast.” “Record time, I’d say,” agreed Johnny. They flashed their All Access ids at the Security guy and went

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backstage. They could hear Jump Cut clearly now, doing “Love on Credit.” Jeremy continued, as they threaded through the equipment and people littering the stage access area, “You know what the problem is? Nothing ever mattered this much. I never thought about – being careful of someone, before this.” “No practice,” suggested Johnny. “Yeah. Christ, I kind of suck at it, don’t I?” Johnny said, “You’ll improve. Be honest with her. She’s a very sharp girl.” “I know,” said Jeremy, not altogether happily. They got to the stairs going onstage, where a member of Jump Cut’s tech crew, a burly guy with a shaved head and watchful eyes, recognized them. Nodding towards the side where various pieces of sound equipment were set up and being monitored, he said, “You can watch from there if you want.” At least, that what’s they thought he said, you couldn’t actually hear over the music at this range. They nodded their thanks, and moved around to get a better view. Jump Cut were sky high on adrenaline and noise, and playing their hearts out. Zanna and Matt were racing through one of the parallel leads they did, with the bass and drums sustaining the rhythm. Then Zanna was back at the mike:

Dream of me deep in the night/wrapped in your desire Think of me when morning wakes/with every nerve on fire

Her voice was uncanny, thought Jeremy. Nice range, and interesting inflections, but it was more than that. It was as though her words pushed their way right inside you. The next song was the slower “Life is Triage,” one of Jeremy’s favorites. As Matt played a lead, Zanna glanced their way, and smiled. Matt saw it, and turned to look. Seeing Jeremy, he nodded unsmilingly. Johnny said in Jeremy’s ear, “What’s the story there?” “Fuck if I know,” said Jeremy. They both clapped and whistled as Jump Cut finished the song. The crowd was loving it – the noise was deafening. Jump Cut wore universally big smiles as they got ready to do their last number. Zanna stepped up to the mike, and said “Thank you,” and even

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that brought on a new frenzy of cheering. She turned sideways then, looked right at them, and said, still into the mike, “This one’s for you, Jeremy.” His heart did a funny sideways leap, because public acknowledgement was a long way from where they’d started the day. Then he really hoped Jump Cut wasn’t closing with “Love is a 4 Letter Word.” He didn’t recognize the opening – it was just Zanna’s guitar initially. She was playing quickly, the chords almost tripping over each other. Then Matt, punctuating the end of her progressions with a quick slash and crash. They jammed for a moment, totally into it, facing each other, feeding off each other, then Matt turned away, and on cue, the bass came in, adding an underlying urgency to the two guitars and finally the drummer hit it hard, and the song became recognizably, “Girlfriend.” Johnny started laughing, and smacked Jeremy on the back. Jeremy shook his head ruefully as Zan shot him a wicked look, and opened with:

There’s something about me you gotta comprehend I don’t want to be anyone’s girlfriend.

Her voice’s husky timbre was just on the edge of harsh as she continued:

It’s just that the status seems kind of second class Somewhere between your mother and another piece of ass.

She sang the second verse straight to the audience, setting off a wave of frantic pogoing. She did the erotically charged third verse focused mostly on the microphone right in front of her, with a big grin for Matt as she finished and they moved into the instrumental bridge. It was fast and they were overflowing with a kind of joyously raw energy, playing for the sheer fun of it. Jeremy watched how the muscles in her arm flexed as she played, the ripple across her taut tummy, bared by the now trademark cutout t-shirt as she moved, the curve of her hips, the lovely line of her gracefully long neck. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, he

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thought, and he ached with wanting her. As if she’d heard his thoughts, she turned a little, and looked at him as she sang the next lines:

I could be the one you call, when you’re feeling low We could take a walk when there’s nowhere else to go

Her face to the audience once more:

You can stop at my place, I don’t mind I can be your pal -

And then she took both hands off her guitar, caught the mike, swung it around. With only the bass playing in the background, her eyes meeting Jeremy’s across the stage, her face alive with amusement, and the charged up energy of performing, Zanna’s voice dropped into a low, sensual near-growl:

I’ll be your partner in crime.

Given Jeremy’s history and the rumors about the two of them, most of the audience seemed to get the joke and an audible whoop went up. Zanna’s crew were laughing, as was Johnny. It was great stagecraft, sexy, sassy, and in-your-face in a manner worthy of Jeremy himself. He knew perfectly well that in the heat and energy of performing, inhibitions had no place, and you did things you wouldn’t consider elsewhere – but still. She was, for now, accepting him as being somewhere in her life, and he was loving it. The band did the last verse fast and hard, and finished with vocals and all four instruments ending together, cut off so sharply the sudden silence was almost shocking. Then Matt called out simply “Good bye,” and Zanna blew a kiss to the audience, and they were off stage quickly, leaving a delirious crowd behind. “God damn, they are good,” said Johnny. They hadn’t been scheduled for an encore, but since the crowd was still going crazy, one of the promoters approached Matt and made a gesture back toward the stage. Jump Cut gathered around quickly and conferred, then headed back out to deafening noise.

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They were all laughing, shaking their heads, clearly somewhat amazed by their reception. Zanna had ditched her guitar, and Matt began a solo, which was slow, plaintive, and utterly gripping. The stadium went so quiet that his every note sounded clearly. The song was “Rue de Misery,” a change of pace number that let Zanna stretch her voice. She sang with aching clarity of love left behind, of feelings from which you can’t run, and every word seemed to burn straight into Jeremy’s head. He knew suddenly what it was like to be a fan, something he’d never really thought about – to hear a performer and feel this peculiarly intimate connection, as though it was being played just for you – and yet he knew that this song had nothing to do with him, that she had written it long before they’d met. They finished with a shortened, punchy cover of the Chili Peppers “Suck my Kiss” with Matt and Zanna at their most provocative. And then it was over, and they exited rapidly with a final “Thank you!” They were laughing, hugging, high as kites after this, their first showing in front of a big crowd. Their spirits were contagious; even the setup crew for the next act were smiling with them. The bass player swept Zanna off her feet, and spun her around, depositing her right by Jeremy. Off balance, she reeled against him, and he caught her arms to steady her. She laughed up at him, inviting him and all the world to share in her delight. He was smiling back at her, remembering what it was like, that first big concert high, when she put her arms around his waist and hugged him. It was a quick, spontaneous gesture on her part, and it took his breath away. They moved away from the stage and back to where the dressing rooms were. Mass confusion reigned as too many people were trying to do too many things in too small a space. Jeremy was contemplating the impossibility of having any conversation under these conditions, much less relating his latest fuck-up, when Zanna caught his hand and pulled him out of the stream of traffic. “What’s wrong?” she asked. Jeremy was nonplussed. “Huh?” Her eyebrows knit. “Something’s up, right?” Shit, he thought, how’d she know that. She waited. He couldn’t think where to begin. He looked at her, helplessly. He was really

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hating the idea of wrecking her happy, relaxed mood. She was standing close to him, her face raised to his, her eyes holding his gaze. Something had changed between them, he realized. She might not be ready to commit, but she wasn’t running away from him, either. He hoped he wasn’t about to change that.

Zanna was studying his expression, which was serious and rather unhappy. Working together earlier, playing as he watched her just now, had made her feel closer to him. He seemed more like her lover of that first night, than the almost-adversary he’d been for the past few weeks. She wondered at his bleak look. It can’t be that bad, she thought… On the other hand, this was Jeremy Kane. It probably could be that bad. She said, “So – just tell me this – are you using again, in trouble with the law, or just found out you’re HIV?” He said, “God, no!” shocked. “Okay,” she said agreeably. “That covers the worst I can think of, so don’t look so grim. Anything else, surely we can deal with.” He felt a rollercoaster rush of emotion – delirious joy at her use of “we,” warmth at her calm acceptance, lurking anxiety because she didn’t know yet (and she had really been pissed about the MusicTown debacle). She saw the play of expressions across his dark countenance. Almost without volition she raised her hand, placing it gently against the sharply planed cheekbone. He was taken aback, at a loss for words – a side of Jeremy Kane she hadn’t seen before. He was usually so sure of what he wanted. She was used to the aggressive determination, the easy confidence he had onstage, the in-your-face, take it or leave it attitude. It came as something of a surprise to see that he could be unsure and tentative as well. She felt an odd sensation as she looked at him now – a kind of almost tenderness, very different from the white hot heat he usually generated in her at close range. Her hand slipped around to the back of his neck, and she pulled his head down and kissed him. Very softly, very slowly. He was almost too stunned to respond. He was never, ever,

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going to figure her out. He kissed her back, a little more deeply. Her arms slid up around his neck. Against the wall in the crowded hallway, they had become their own small island. A part of his brain, remembering all too well her reaction to the MusicTown interview, was aware that this might be his last chance with her in such a quiescent mood. He ran his hands up her back, under her shirt, feeling the hollow where her spine lay, the narrowness of her waist, the delicate swell of her ribs. He noted in a mental aside that she was really thin, too thin, and filed it as something to worry about later. But for now, his hands were still exploring, sliding over her flat tummy, slipping just inside the folded down waistband of her cargo pants where the heel of his hand fit into the hollow of her hipbone, and his fingers wrapped over the curve of her hip, literally giving him a handle on her. He pulled her close against him, and she stretched in that sinuous motion he remembered so well, that came to her as naturally as breathing. She was kissing him again, her mouth teasing, sharing. He forgot they were in a public place and he had to tell her something she was going to hate. His world added up to nothing more than her touch, her taste, the feel of her body under his hands. She broke away first, pulling back so that they were staring at each other, both breathing a little hard, both a little wide eyed. Then she said, rather breathlessly, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to start this.” He put his arms loosely around her, because maintaining the contact seemed important, and said without preamble, “I mouthed off in another stupid interview.” She wasn’t tracking yet. “What?” “That’s what I had to tell you,” he said. “Before someone else blindsides you with it, or you see it on VH1.” “You said something about me? On camera?” “Yeah. Sorry,” he said. “How bad?” she asked warily. He said cautiously, “As far as your part goes, not that bad-” “As bad as that stupid nirvana remark?” “No, not nearly, I don’t think.” He paused. “You know, with MusicTown, it wasn’t like I meant to talk about you. But it was right after I met you, and I was excited, and so – happy, I guess, that it kind of spilled over. I didn’t mean to be disrespectful; sex with

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you was this beautiful thing that I’d never had before, and I was so blown away by you, I just wasn’t thinking.” She looked like this was maybe way more than she wanted to know, and she didn’t say anything. Jeremy ploughed on, doggedly. “This time, I didn’t really say much about you. But she brought up the drug thing, and I’m so sick of it, that I was kind of rude, and then she said I used women like Kleenex and basically called me a slut, which is really unfair these days-” he paused, and Zan prompted “And ?” No way around it, he decided, given that it was on tape. “I told her far from it, I was waiting for you to decide if you wanted me or not,” he said flatly. She looked stunned. He went on quickly “Look, I know I said I won’t press you for anything you don’t want to give, and I meant that. But I can’t help how I feel, Zanna. There is something between us, and for me it’s like there’s you, and no one else.” His voice was almost inaudible as he finished, “And I wish it was that way for you, but…” They were both silent for a moment, just looking at each other. Then she said, “I don’t get why you talk to them about this stuff.” He shrugged. “I’ve always been fairly open with the media,” he said. “Because they’re going to talk, no matter what, and in the end it’s easier to cut down on the rumors and speculation. I’d rather get it up front.” “Here it is – deal with it,” she said, with a small smile. “Yeah. Something like that.” He went on, slowly, “It’s hard for me, Zanna, when I don’t know what you want, where we’re at.” She looked away. “I don’t have any answers. I don’t know what to do.” He felt like suggesting a few things, getting rid of Nick Tzezna for one, but with considerable restraint, said only, “Can you at least tell me this? Does that mean you haven’t completely ruled me out?” She was silent for a moment. Then she said, very quietly, “Yes.” “Yes, you haven’t, or yes, you have?” “Yes, I-oh now, you’ve got me confused! I mean, I can’t rule anything in, or out, at the moment, all right?” “Yeah. Okay,” he said, thinking well, that’s something. She surprised him then, by hugging him as she said, “Look, don’t

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worry about your latest stupid interview, all right? I’ll give you a ‘get out of jail free’ card on this one.” He said, “So you’re still going to talk to me, even after reporters have been shoving microphones in your face and asking how you feel about my declaration of undying and unrequited love?” She said honestly, “In all fairness, I have to say I’m not exactly blameless this time. What I did onstage just now….” His arms tightened around her. “I loved it,” he told her. “But it wasn’t what you’d call discreet. And neither is making out in hallways.” She sighed. “Oh hell, Jeremy, maybe you’re right. Maybe you just have to do your own thing, and the hell with the consequences.” She added wryly, “I’m trying to come to terms with this whole business of suddenly having my life become public property.” “It isn’t, not really, you know,” he said. “All that stuff – it’s surface. It’s not you.” “Mmm.” She disengaged from his arms, and reluctantly he let her go. She said, “What time do you go on?” “Around 9:30 or 10, I think.” She appeared to be deep in thought. She said ruefully, “I wish we had more time. This is so difficult-” she broke off. “I know.” She went on, “But listen, you were right, about the music side of it, I mean. We should keep working together, any chance we get. I don’t want to give that up, either.” “Well.” He smiled at her. “It’s a start. We finally got something resolved.” “Right.” She smiled back at him. “So – play one for me tonight, Jeremy. I’ll be listening from somewhere.” She stood on her toes, kissed him lightly, and said, “See you around.” Then she spun away, and threaded her way quickly through the hall. Johnny materialized next to him, and they watched as she caught up to Matt and David near the entrance. As she drew alongside them, Matt dropped an arm companionably across her shoulders. They walked a few steps, then she suddenly turned around, walking backwards, his arm now more or less over her chest. Across the length of the hall, she looked back at Jeremy, and called out “Hey! it’s not – not exactly! unrequited.” She flashed a smile, turned around again

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without missing a step, Matt’s arm still around her. Hers slipped around his waist, and they exited the stadium that way, entwined and moving together with casual familiarity. “Earth to Jeremy,” said Johnny dryly. “We do have a show to put on tonight, you know.” Jeremy let out his breath. “She confuses the hell out of me,” he remarked.

Zanna had hoped to get through the night without having to comment on Jeremy’s interview, but later she and Matt were ambushed by RockNet on their way to the main stage to watch Sex Gun. In response to the reporter’s question, she said, “You know, I haven’t actually seen it, and Jeremy didn’t go into much detail-” The reporter interrupted, bemused. “Jeremy told you about it.” Zanna had already thought out her lines. What Jeremy had said, about cutting out the speculation, had struck her as making some sense, and her strategy now was pre-emptive. She arranged her features in an expression of tolerant amusement, and said, “Sure. I know you’d all like this to be a lot more sensational, but in fact we just haven’t had a chance to spend much time together. We have worked together a little, and we’re planning on doing more of that in the future, but otherwise it’s a wait-and-see situation.” “So you don’t mind that in the past he’s referred to you as some kind of sexual nirvana, and that he compared you to a drug habit?” Zanna laughed. “The thing about Jeremy is he’s uninhibited and very forthright, and he has no hesitation in putting it all out there. Sure, there are times when you wish he’d just shut up, but that’s who he is, and it’s a big part of what makes him such a great songwriter, and you gotta love him for that.” She smiled, adding, “And speaking of, we really want to catch their show, so if you don’t mind…” “Thanks, Zanna,” the reporter said.

Matt asked her, as they headed for the stage, “And do you love him, Z?” She was silent, then she said, “I don’t much like that term.” “Just another four letter word,” he agreed. “The question is,

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which one?” She looked sideways at him. “Do you mind?” “About Jeremy?” She nodded. “Sometimes,” he said. “Others, I think it might be the best thing for you.” He stopped abruptly, and pulled her around to face him. “But I still think you’re wrong about us.” “Do you?” Her eyes were serious as they met his. “I’ve always thought we’re too close as friends to screw it up by being lovers.” “Does that mean you don’t think you can be friends with Jeremy?” She said honestly, “It means I have no idea what that could be.” She hesitated, and said quietly, “But I do love you, Matt. You know that, don’t you?” He nodded. “I love you, too, now and forever. But I still wish, sometimes, that it could be different.” “Sometimes, so do I,” she answered. They found a spot to lurk on the edge of the crowd, where Security let them inside the barrier. “We could go up on the side of the stage, like they did,” he suggested. “Let’s start out here,” she said. “We can move up later.” Their timing was good – just then the stage went dark and the crowd stirred with anticipation. Arik’s bass began the thundery intro to “After the Hurricane” and as blue lights backlit the stage, Daniel da Silva’s guitar added an effect like rising wind, and the storm broke with a drum roll and clash of cymbals. Then Jeremy was bounding to the front of the stage, catching up the mike stand and spinning around as he let out the trademark howl that sent shivers down your spine. It was a song that hit you up front with its power, then tempered like a thunderstorm changing to falling rain for the chorus, and moved into a kind of controlled chaos from there. Zanna had thought it was a great song the first time she heard it on the radio, before she had ever known who Jeremy Kane was, and hearing it live she was struck anew by how well Sex Gun performed it. “Hurricane” led right into “Body Language,” one of their hard rocking numbers with the sexual suggestiveness they had always been known for. Jeremy stripped off his shirt halfway through, tossing it into the crowd, which was one big moshing mess. Then it

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was “Troubles of my Own,” the first single from ATH. They were consummate professionals, thought Zanna. They played together with the ease of long familiarity, somehow both tight and freewheeling. Their performance was full of palpable energy, as they moved across the stage, using the entire space and keeping their audience riveted. And Jeremy was nothing short of incredible. Zanna had been somewhat distracted the first time she had seen them, but now she was able to watch and appreciate what made them such an enduring phenomenon on the alt rock scene. They were all exceedingly proficient, but had highly individualized styles. Jeremy was the ultimate frontman, his constant motion mesmerizing, his charisma magnetic, his vocal style changing subtly with the material. On “Troubles” you got an undertone of heartache, while on “Come Hard” his voice was harsh and raw, and watching him it was easy to believe this was the man who’d been to prison twice. The song ended abruptly, and the stage went dark. Then a spot opened on Daniel as he began the eerie solo that led into “I Will Find a Way.” Just before the rest came in, Jeremy said clearly, “This is for Zanna” and she felt it like a shot to the heart, as he began to sing. Matt said in her ear, “Not subtle, is he,” referring to the lyrics, and she shook her head, half laughing, half choked up with emotion. Matt saw the shine of tears in her eyes as she gazed at the stage, completely caught up in the song. It was as though a movie of what they’d been through was playing in her head as she listened to him. Watching him onstage, she was seeing in her mind’s eye the way he had looked at her that first night - his sharply focused interest as they talked, the warmth and affection that came later, the hurt and anger of the next morning. She was remembering the Shell Club, the frustration in his eyes when Nick and Andy interrupted them. San Francisco, where he had kissed her, and she had hit him. The breakfast with Kaoru and Arik, those moments when he had felt like a friend, the ones where he had been anything but. She was reliving the day just over, with all its ups and downs. She heard him now, his voice low and intense on the line “I will be forever in you,” and she thought, you already are, and it hurt, and

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scared her, and yet it made her feel so incredibly alive at the same time. Looking at him onstage tossing his shaggy dark hair back in a characteristic gesture, she felt anticipation mixed with a thrill of fear: wherever it was they might be headed, she somehow knew it wasn’t going to be an easy trip. As the song ended, she looked at Matt and jerked her head toward the stage. Nodding in comprehension, he caught her hand and cleared a way through the crowd, moving quickly to avoid being recognized. They took up much the same space Jeremy and Johnny had used as a vantage point earlier. Sex Gun went through “Golden Girl,” “Try Dying,” and “Time to Fly” at a fast and flashy pace, then took it down several notches for “Miss You Forever.” It was on the uptempo, hard driving “Shutdown” that Jeremy, turning towards the sidelines as he moved across the front of the stage, saw Zanna. He did a classic double take, and completely missed the next two lines of the song. Arik glanced over in surprise, then shook his head, grinning. Jeremy himself was laughing, as he finally came back with the rest of the verse. As Daniel spun out the lead that bridged the chorus and last verse, Jeremy moved quickly over to where they watched. Matt backed up unobtrusively, as Jeremy pulled Zanna close and said something to her. Then he was back at center stage to finish the song. The rest of the set went quickly. As they came off the stage, Jeremy detoured through the side area, and catching Zanna with an arm around her waist, he swept her along with him. One of the roadies gave Matt a sympathetic look, and he realized it probably looked like Jeremy had just swiped his girl. Well, in a way, maybe he had. He could see them standing closely, looking at each other but not speaking. The rest of the group were getting a drink, grabbing towels to wipe down faces and bare torsos slick with sweat from the heat of the stage lights, before going back for the encore. The first song was “Do You Wanna Know?” which made Matt itch for a guitar, because Jump Cut did a cover of that song. As it came to a close, Jeremy was again over by Zanna. This time he took her hand and pulled her out on stage with him, smiling at her with a

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warm intimacy. She balked, pulling back, and without hesitation Jeremy picked her up in his arms, and carried her swiftly out to the mike at the front. He set her on her feet as the crowd went crazy at this byplay. And Sex Gun began “If I Could.” It was one of those moments where something magical happens between two performers. Standing on either side of the mike, eyes locked on each other, Jeremy and Zanna went through the ballad as though they’d been doing it for years. They went back and forth in some stanzas, sang others together, their voices intertwining, as Zan used her greater range to weave around Jeremy’s vocals. His voice was low and clear, hers almost a husky whisper behind it, as they came to the final lines:

And if I could, I’d give to you All the love I never knew If I could.

And with the music building to a final crescendo behind them, Jeremy pushed the mike aside, took her face between his hands, and kissed her. It was a kiss full of longing, of tempered passion, of bittersweet feeling, of all the things they couldn’t say to each other. It lasted through the end of the music, the roar of the crowd, the other members of the band calling out goodnight. As he drew back from her, Jeremy’s face was somber, and his eyes were intent on her face. Matt and everyone close enough to read his lips could see him say to her, simply, “I love you.”

Soundline Concert Report: OCEANS BENEFIT The Oceans concert, a showcase of alternative rock bands for the benefit of preserving shoreline quality in Southern California, drew some 50,000 people and went off without a hitch, something the organizers were relieved to see after the recent debacle of Woodstock 99... Many of the performers felt a special connection to the cause. Kelly Ross of Slouching towards Bliss commented on the damage done by North Sea oil spills to his native UK turf. Jeremy Kane of Sex Gun wore a t-shirt that read F**K Proposition 89, a reference to the proposal to allow further oil exploration off the California coast. 138

But most of the focus was on music, not politics...In a lineup rich with talent and studded with hit songs, one of the day’s top performances was served up by the newcomers from the Midwest, Jump Cut. With a heady mix of unstoppable energy and blatant sex appeal, the foursome rocked through their catalogue of originals and unorthodox covers, including their top ten hit, “Taste the Pain,” and their most recent single, “Love is a 4 Letter Word.” For those interested in human drama, another segment in the soap opera of rock stars’ love lives occurred when singer Zanna Martin dedicated the sarcastically titled “Girlfriend” to Jeremy Kane. (He returned the favor during Sex Gun’s set, prefacing “I Will Find a Way” by saying “this is for Zanna.”) Evidently Kane has had no change of heart since his candid and blunt comments to MusicTown magazine, as he made his feelings abundantly clear in an unvarnished television interview earlier in the day (“I want to be her partner in every sense of the word” was among his more socially acceptable remarks.) As in the past, he didn’t mention Martin by name, but it was clear to everyone present to whom he’d been referring when he literally swept her off her feet and onstage during Sex Gun’s encore, to sing “If I Could” with him. Kane usually does SG’s slow songs as though he’s crooning to a lover, cradling the microphone in his hands, hips rocking gently with the rhythm of the music. This time, though, she was right there with him, and they sounded surprisingly good together. They also were obviously on exceedingly friendly terms, belying rumors that she’s rejected the attentions of Sex Gun’s frontman. Sex Gun’s set closed the show, as they played a mixture of old and new material with their usual power and confidence. After all those rumors of their near demise, it’s good to see them just as loud, vibrant, and charged up as ever. The veteran LA band can still show the youngsters how it’s done, and no one can touch them for live performance. The audience might have been just a bit disappointed that nothing except shirts were removed on this cool fall night, but if so, it was the only letdown.

RockNet An Interview with Jeremy Kane After the recent Oceans benefit concert in Southern California, RockNet caught up with Jeremy Kane. In addition to giving his customary high energy, hard rocking performance with his mates in Sex Gun, Kane brought a surprise guest onstage for the encore.

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RockNet: You and Zanna Martin really brought down the house at the Oceans show, when you did “If I Could “ together. Was it planned that she would join you onstage for that number? JK: I’ve always wanted to do that song with her, because I know Jump Cut occasionally performs it, but that was completely spontaneous. I didn’t even know for sure that she was at the show, until about halfway through the set, when I saw her standing just offstage. RockNet: Was that when you forgot the words to “Shutdown”? JK: (laughs) Yeah, that was pretty bad. I completely lost track of where I was. RockNet: Did you two talk about how you were going to do the song, before you went out for the encore? JK: No, I just grabbed her and hauled her out there. I knew if I asked, she’d say no. And in fact, what she did say was something like “What the hell do you think you’re doing.” RockNet: So you’ve never rehearsed it together? JK: Right. But when we started singing, that didn’t matter. It was like we’d been doing it all our lives. Everything fell into place, and it felt very seamless. RockNet: That was quite a closer you gave. JK: You mean when I kissed her? RockNet: Yes. JK: Well…doing that song with her was a profoundly moving experience for me. “If I Could” was born out of despair and longing - it’s about a time when I was struggling with a lot of demons, and I’ve always thought of it as essentially a dark song, dealing with loneliness and desperation. But with her, it became something more hopeful. It had a kind of “that was then, now is different” feel to it, this sense that it’s possible to start over, to make something from the wreckage of self destruction. When we did that last chorus, her voice went soaring over mine, and it was so beautiful, I could have cried. RockNet: Strong stuff. JK: Exactly. Zanna and I have not had...the easiest of relationships, you might say, but at that moment I felt closer to her than I ever have with anyone, in my life. RockNet: so you and Zanna Martin do have a relationship? JK: We have a relationship in the sense that we are two people who know each other and interact, not in the sense that she’s my girlfriend, if that’s what you mean. RockNet: That’s probably a good thing, if you think about the

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lyrics to the Jump Cut song “Girlfriend.” JK (laughing): I love that song! The label wanted her to clean it up so it could be released as a single, but she wouldn’t do it, and she was right. RockNet: Anyway, it looked like quite a kiss. JK: It was. I dream about that kiss.G

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Chapter 14

Sex Gun fan site Bulletin Board

-Hey! Wasn’t anyone at Oceans? Let’s have a report! angel -did you SEE Jeremy on VH1???Norah -was he talking about the jump cut girl? angel -yes. Howl -I was at the show, and you should have seen their encore!surfdude -at least she didn’t hit him this time. Howl

-Are there pix from San Francisco?newbie -here’s a link. Howl

Jump Cut Diary Dateline: Santa Cruz So we’re at UC-Santa Cruz, which is one of the most spectacularly lovely campuses on the face of the planet. It’s so beautiful here, it’s helping cure the inevitable letdown after playing the Oceans benefit – what a gig that was! It was amazing even getting to hang out with those bands, we were gawking like kids…and the audience was terrific. Sometimes at those shows where there are a ton of bands, people can be pretty indifferent to the early acts – but not this time. Thank you oceangoers, you’re socially responsible and you rock. Re: email and message board questions about Z and JK – they sounded great together, huh? That’s going to be our only comment :D

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Oh, and to Alex from SF, sorry we didn’t play your fave song last time, but email us if you’re going to be at another show, and we’ll make sure Matt does Reflections, just for you. Gotta go enjoy the scenery, jc

Zanna didn’t actually see the infamous interview until a few days later, in Santa Cruz. Returning from an afternoon run to her motel room before the soundcheck, she clicked on the TV before sitting down on the floor to stretch. She flipped through the channels to VH1, who were doing music news. An obnoxiously perky vj was going on about Jewel. Zanna leaned forward and grasped her ankles, but then the vj was saying brightly “Sex Gun played the Oceans benefit recently, a concert to aid in cleaning up miles of shoreline in Southern California, and our Mindy Sorensen got a chance to talk with longtime surfers Jeremy Kane and Johnny Deal.” As she watched the interview, Zanna was alternately amused and appalled. How could he say those things? At the same time, she had a kind of reluctant admiration for his unvarnished honesty, and a weird heartstopping sensation when he used the L word. She thought he was insane, but she never doubted that he meant every word he said. And what had happened between them at Oceans had shown her that she could not blow him off and walk away. The way they connected, in music, was too special to be ignored. Although how it was going to be accommodated without other complications, given the powerful physical attraction, was something she had yet to figure out. But, she argued to herself, you can play guitar and write songs with someone and not have sex, even if you are attracted. After all, she and Matt had been doing that for over a year. Surely she could work with Jeremy, and just take anything else very slowly. Except Jeremy wasn’t like Matt, who respected boundaries. Jeremy was volatile and unpredictable… And he said he loved her. No doubt about it. Scary as hell. At least he’d finally given her back her notebook. Which reminded her of something. She still had his. 143

Zanna had glanced at it in a cursory way when she first got it in the mail, but no more than that. Now, though, she pulled it out of her suitcase. She’d vaguely thought she should return it, but had completely forgotten, given everything that had happened. He wrote in much the same fashion she did, with scraps of poetry and lyrics jumbled in with mere fragments, stream of consciousness musing, paragraphs about something specific, journal type entries, actual songs with lines crossed out and written over and arrows going to other sections, with notes on music in the margins. There were some major differences, though. While Zanna used cheap steno pads, Jeremy’s notebook was leather bound and had good quality paper. His writing was also much neater than hers, and he did a lot of pen and ink sketches. Some were just a few quick lines, others more detailed, and Zanna thought they were rather good. It was hard to tell the time frame. She thought it must be a month or more before he met her. A lot of the entries in the beginning had to do with “After the Hurricane.”

…it’s done, for better or worse. I think, better. Playing the publicity game, and not even minding. It’s almost fun to do interviews when you can talk about good stuff. We’re gonna make Rolling Stone’s cover again… …break from touring, nice to just hang out for a while. No sustained activity until late fall, but this-and-thats in the meantime. Feels like we keep gaining momentum-hasn’t been this good in a long time…

Some of the sketches were amusing, such as one of Daniel cradling a guitar like an infant, some disturbing, like the woman who appeared to be turning into a serpent. And then Zanna realized that she was reading about the night they met. She hesitated – it was so very intimate, to read his words, his feelings. But he certainly had no such inhibitions. She had been somewhat shocked that he had no compunction about reading her notebook, which was rather obviously intended to be private – and she was amazed that he was willing to comprehensively bare his soul by turning over his, to her. But she was realizing that Jeremy’s mind worked differently. As far

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as he was concerned, she had already made a commitment to him by giving him that wanton passion (even if, in his eyes, she was trying to welsh out on it now). It was one of many things that made him so disconcerting to deal with. She read on.

Christ, this is so weird, I feel like I just found out that the world doesn’t end at the horizon. You’d think you’d know something about love, women, sex, how it all goes, by now. But – evidently not. Not at all. Because I just met her, and she turned it all upside down in just a few hours, or maybe even a moment, I don’t know. I don’t get it, how can anyone do that-make you feel like everything and anything could now be possible? Who knew that there was this incredible rush, this ultimate high, I never knew anything like it existed. And suddenly its like, oh! that’s what it’s supposed to be like, this is what love is, what sex should be – all this time and I had no idea. It’s kind of humbling, after 36 years and god knows how many women, because I don’t…this girl gives me one look, one smile, a kiss…and I would do anything for her. God, she’s beautiful. I’m sitting here in bed, looking down at her curled up by my side, watching her sleep. She’s got an interesting face, kind of different…strong, clean lines, but delicately rendered. Her hair is the color of honey, but I don’t know about her eyes. I almost want to wake her up to see. She has long eyelashes, anyway, like feathery little fans against her cheek. Lovely. I want to know everything about her. I want to drink her up, breathe her in, touch and smell and taste her everywhere.

What the fuck was that about?! Why is she so freaked out she didn’t care about any of it last night she didn’t seem drunk I don’t even know her last name

I am going to fucking kill Kaoru, what the fuck does he mean, she doesn’t want to talk to me? I don’t get this, I swear I could not have been that wrong. She felt it, too, I know she did how can she not even talk to me now. She can’t do this. I can’t stand it. I am not going to lose her like this.

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Fuck, I think I’m going crazy, it’s like I almost see her everywhere, I’m staring at every girl who has straight, dark blonde hair, but it’s never her. Arik says I’d better get over it, or our next record’s going to be a lot of fucking sappy unrequited love songs, and he could be right, because I can’t get her out of my head. Who were you, Zanna, my love? I realize now I should have asked a lot more questions, that night. But I thought I had time…

There was a drawing of her, asleep. It was sparely done, a few curving lines to indicate her shoulder, the fall of her hair, her cheek, her closed eyes. Then-

Oh my beautiful and wild Zanna, am I ever going to see you again? Am I ever going to be able to make love to you, so sweet and hot. Are you ever going to love me back? I know how it feels to be deep inside you. I know the feel and taste of your mouth, your skin, your soft silky wetness. I know how you write, how you work out a song. But I don’t know what your favorite movie is. What kind of food you like. What the fuck you do to get that body, god. So where are you tonight, my lovely Zanna? And do you ever think about me? Do you remember that night, too, do you? I want to think you do.

And finally, just before the blank pages, he had written directly to her, an emphatic black scrawl.

Okay, Zanna, you know my story, if you get this far, and all I can say is, give us a chance. If you won’t do that – at least tell me why. You owe me that much.

She stopped reading, emotions churning. Did he realize she’d never read this? Oh god, he must think she’d been jerking him around…she felt awful, but at the same time, a little resentful. How could anyone decide that fast that he loved you? How could he expect you to do something about it? But he was right; she owed him more. She looked at the number written on the inside cover, and stared

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at the phone on the bedside table. Glanced at the clock – she was going to be late for soundcheck if she didn’t get going. Picked up the phone, panicked, put it down again. Why didn’t he have email, damn it? She took a deep breath, and dialed. Oh, good, voice mail. At the tone, she began, haltingly. “Hi, Jeremy, it’s Zanna. I just saw your interview…enjoyed how you handled the drug issue, although it was a pity they did that blurry thing…uh, the rest of it…I guess I don’t know what to say, there, it’s kind of…oh, I don’t know, it’s pretty weird for me, you know? Why I called though, really, was to tell you that I only just now read your notebook, the one you sent me. I guess I should have done it a long time ago. I didn’t feel right about it. I’m sorry. But anyway… I can’t pick one favorite movie, but recently, let’s see, I really liked Shakespeare in Love and Run Lola Run. I like lots of different kinds of food…yes, I work out, I run because I like it, and do weights because it’s good for me, even though I think it’s boring, and I swim, and bike, stuff like that. I… I’ve thought about you a lot, since we met. And yes, it seems strange that we don’t know even the most basic, ordinary stuff about each other. I don’t know where any of this gets us but I’m glad we’re going to try and work together.” She hung up, said “Whew!” and took off for the sound check.

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Chapter 15

Zanna returned from the college tour determined to not be such a spaz where Jeremy was concerned. The morning after they got back she was puttering around the cottage, enjoying being ‘home.’ She unpacked and started a load of laundry, and looked in the refrigerator to discover a shrunken orange and some condiments. She decided to pick up provisions later. She could walk down to the beachfront shops. She retrieved her voice mail messages – one from her sister Callie, one from Rachel. And then she heard Jeremy’s voice. The message was very casual. “Hey, Z, looks to me like you’re in town this week, so let’s try and work on ‘Chemistry,’ okay?” Pause. Then he said, “Talk to you soon,” not very hopefully. Zanna took a deep breath. Well. All right, time for the new leaf. Don’t think, just do it, she instructed herself, looking in the cover of her notebook for Arik’s number. She punched it in, and listened to the ringing. She was just about to conclude no one was home and hang up (with some relief) when someone picked it up.

Jeremy habitually answered the phone as though he was sure it was no one he wanted to talk to. If his flat “Yeah?” wasn’t actively hostile, it certainly wasn’t friendly either. Taken aback, Zanna said hesitantly, “Hi – it’s me, Zanna,” and waited. His voice warmed immediately. “Z! hey, how are you? How was your trip?” “Fine.” She paused, feeling awkward, but Jeremy didn’t seem to notice. He went on happily, “I’m glad you called, I didn’t know if 148

you would.” Zanna thought it probably wouldn’t be tactful to tell him she was thinking of it as a self-improvement project. She said, “So, you’re around for a few days?” “Yeah. Can we get together?” Quickly he added, “To play. I’ve been working on a couple of things I’d like you to listen to.” “Umm, sure.” Why couldn’t she talk normally, she thought in despair. “When? And where?” she added, sticking to essentials. “Are you free today? Anytime’s fine, I’ll be around here all day.” He waited. Zanna squashed down a panicky feeling, told herself sooner was better than later, and said, “Right. I’ll see you this afternoon, then.” “Okay. Yeah, that’s great!” He still sounded uncharacteristically upbeat and enthusiastic. Zanna said goodbye and rang off, wondering at it. Maybe this was what he was like, in a good mood. She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him in a good mood before.

It took Zanna a while to figure out how to get to Arik’s, since she couldn’t very well bike with a Strat on her back, but she was quite proud of herself for working out the bus route that would let her out at the lower canyon road. She dressed to fit in on public transport, in jeans and a plain blue work shirt. She stuffed her hair into a baseball cap to complete the look. It was, she thought, asexual and totally nonalluring, which was what she wanted, and not only for the benefit of bus riders. She quite enjoyed the hike up to Arik’s, although by the time she got to his driveway, the guitar case felt pretty heavy. She rang the bell next to the carved wooden door, her face heating up as she remembered the last time she had stood there. Jeremy answered it immediately. He was wearing only boardshorts, and looked taller and more muscular than Zanna remembered. He was apparently still in a cheerful mood, because he gave her a big, open smile as he ushered her in. Then, glancing back at the driveway, he looked puzzled. “How’d you get here?” he asked. “The bus,” she answered. “Where-?” She made a gesture. “Downstairs,” he told her, and shut the door. Zanna went down to the lower level, where an informal family room was set up as

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practice space. There was a drum set, and a bunch of amplifiers, microphones and music stands. Several instruments were propped up and lying around. Zanna set down her case and opened it, taking out her Stratocaster. She was beginning to tune it as Jeremy came back, followed by Daniel, who nodded at her and took a close look at her guitar. Jeremy said to Zanna, “You took the bus?” in a tone of disbelief. She said, “Sure.” She added in explanation, since he still appeared incredulous, “It’s hard to bike with a guitar.” Daniel said, “I didn’t know buses ran here.” Zanna was glad to enlighten him. “You have to get off at the bottom of the hill.” Daniel said, “But that’s like, a mile from here.” “Right,” she replied. She registered that both Daniel and Jeremy appeared somewhat stunned. “It’s really pretty easy getting here. You only have to transfer once.” She sounded her strings and asked Daniel, “Does that sound flat to you?” “Yes,” he said. She made a sound of annoyance. Matt often tuned the guitar for her, and she didn’t have his ear. Daniel said, “Want me to-” and she smiled gratefully and handed it over. Arik wandered in, and said hi to Zanna. He asked Jeremy, “Are you going over Magic Moment?” Jeremy ignored this, apparently still fixated on Zanna’s mode of locomotion. He said to her, “Zanna, this is LA. Public transportation isn’t safe.” Zanna laughed. “All right, listen up,” she said. “(A) at least during the day, for certain routes, the bus isn’t dangerous, not any more than walking down the street, and probably less so than those hellish freeways. (B) I don’t have a car here, and I hate driving anyway. And C, no offense, Jeremy, but your credibility on risk analysis isn’t all that high, all right? Now, are we going to play, or not?” Daniel said to her sympathetically, “I don’t like driving either. But what you do is, call for a car. There’s a really good place I use, they show up fast and have very good drivers.” Arik said, “That’s a good idea, Z, really.” She said in exasperation, “Look, you lot are inhabiting a different universe, okay? Us lesser mortals do things a little differently,

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which includes public transportation. Now are we going to play, or am I going to catch the bloody bus home again?” She wasn’t looking at Jeremy, or she might have wondered at his suddenly stricken expression. She reclaimed her guitar from Daniel, strummed a few chords, and smiled her appreciation for his masterly tuning. She plugged into an amp, and said briskly, “Can we go over Chemistry? I don’t remember what comes after the first two verses. I know you put a change up somewhere…” She looked enquiringly at Jeremy. With an effort, he pulled himself together and said, “Yeah, okay.” He picked up his guitar, and started to play slowly, with Zanna watching closely. Arik and Daniel exchanged a surprised look. It wasn’t like Jeremy to give up without a fight, and they both thought he was actually right about this bus thing.

They went through the song a few times. Then Daniel said unexpectedly, “I liked it better with Zanna on lead vocal.” She started to protest, but Jeremy was nodding in agreement. “I do, too,” he said. So she shrugged, and set her guitar aside. They started over. Jeremy stopped the song halfway through, and said to Zanna, “After that last chorus, try just letting go.” She nodded, and this time did a freestyle vocal improv, but Jeremy shook his head, and she stopped. He moved closer to her, and said, “You’ve got a lot more voice than that, okay?” He put one hand on the small of her back, and the other on her middle. Jeremy had big hands with long, spatulate fingers, and they came close to spanning her waist. She felt a frisson down her spine at his touch, but she was concentrating on what he was saying, trying to divine exactly what he wanted. When it came to music, she trusted his judgment implicitly. “Feel it deep,” he said. “Open up. Let it build, then let it out.” He nodded at the others, and said, “From the chorus.” Zanna sang, watching Jeremy’s face. When she got to the end, she took a breath. Feeling his hand still on her, she imagined sound like champagne being uncorked and poured out, and let her voice take over. Jeremy was smiling, and nodding as she soared up and

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brought it down again. He let go, and played along with Daniel on the bridge. They finished the last verses, and did the chorus together, Zanna with her eyes shut so she could better hear Jeremy. There was complete silence as they finished. Zanna opened her eyes to find them all regarding her. “That what you had in mind?” she asked. Jeremy said nothing, but he was smiling broadly. Arik said faintly, “That would be it,” and Daniel told her, “That was brilliant.”

They went on to “Magic Moment.” Jeremy went over what he’d done so far and Zanna had some things to add. Daniel and Arik both put in two cents worth. Finally they took a break, and had a late lunch by the pool. Jill Stanley showed up from somewhere in the house, and she and Arik made grilled tuna sandwiches for everyone. The conversation was general, ranging from movies to local politics to Sex Gun’s upcoming tour. Zanna didn’t say much; she was still going over songs in her head. She became aware that Jeremy was looking at her expectantly, and said, “Sorry, did you say something?” The others looked amused; Jeremy was much more accustomed to women hanging on his every word, than this casual preoccupation. He didn’t seem to mind, though. He repeated patiently, “As long as you’re here, I’ve been playing around with Dark Angel, and I’d like to know what you think.” She said, “Sure,” and took the hand he stretched down to her. As he pulled her to her feet, she asked, “What time is it, though?” Jill consulted her watch. “Almost four.” Jeremy, accurately reading Zanna, said, “I’m giving you a ride home, okay? It’s on my way.” Zanna said, “To where?” and he replied, “To anywhere.” She shrugged, and they went into the house together.

Much later, after he had dropped Zanna off, Jeremy drove down to a stretch of beach where he often went when he wanted to think. Parking the 4x4, he discarded his shoes in it, and walked down to where the waves rolled in, letting them wash over his legs and bury his feet in the sand. Gazing unseeing out across the water, he thought back over the day.

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God, but that girl could sing. He heard in his mind the way her voice could practically make you see colors, it was so full. Jeremy knew he was good, but Zanna was really in another league, he thought. Her lack of training meant she had a roughness and individuality that worked well for alt-rock, something a more polished vocalist would lack. At the same time, she needed to learn to put that range to better use. They’d have to keep it in mind, with whatever they worked on next… Okay, he was avoiding it. The Bus Issue. He hadn’t brought it up with her again, behaving with a circumspection that was rare for him. He had asked her if she had any errands she’d like to do on the way back to her place, and when she said no, he’d asked if she’d mind stopping at the bookstore. She didn’t. They browsed companionably for a while, Jeremy eventually buying a surf mag and a book called ‘Cold Mountain’ for himself, and the new issue of Guitar for Daniel. Zanna got a paperback mystery. She glanced at his selection, and commented, “I read that book. It’s good.” “Yeah?” She nodded. “I actually didn’t have much interest in it at first – I read it for a book club at home. But it was so well written I went through it in a couple of days.” She asked curiously, “Do you read a lot?” “Yeah.” Not that you’d know it from my scintillating conversation, he thought, and tried to think of something to say. “You?” he asked. She laughed. “The way that some people smoke,” she told him. “I get strung out and bitchy if I go for too long without it.” He grinned, because he knew exactly what she meant. At his suggestion, they moved into the café section and got drinks, coffee for him, chai for her. Suddenly they were talking easily about books, music, about anything. By the time he’d taken her back to the beach, he hadn’t wanted to bring up something they were likely to argue about. But he really couldn’t let it go. The Bus Problem. He heard again her half-mocking voice. “You people.” “A different universe.” “We do things differently.” And he felt again the same burning sense of shame he had experienced at Arik’s. They didn’t think of themselves as rich people, but the fact was

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everyone in Sex Gun had made a lot of money. It wasn’t something they had to think about. They bought whatever they wanted, and didn’t even see their bills, they had money managers for that. Jeremy himself wasn’t much of a consumer because he just couldn’t be bothered, but the fact was that if he wanted to, he could buy a mansion, a yacht, whatever, for cash, now. He was probably worth even more than your average successful rocker, because he’d made a lot of investments rather than blowing the money on fancy toys. With the exception of heroin, he’d never had expensive tastes. And you forgot, because the people you were around were in a similar place, what it was like for the rest. College professors didn’t make much, he knew, and so far Jump Cut wouldn’t have gotten royalty checks. As a new band, they wouldn’t have gotten much of an advance. He remembered Zanna’s comment in the MTV interview, about rock stars who’d never had real jobs. It was pretty much true of everyone in Sex Gun, himself included. He thought about her calm amusement at his horror over her taking the bus. Jeremy had never thought of himself as a snob, and he was disdainful of the Beverly Hills crowd. It came as something of an eye-opener to realize that Zanna and her band probably regarded Sex Gun as spoiled brats. While he’d been in school, and during the band’s early days, things had been hand to mouth for a while. He could still remember clearly sleeping in the station wagon, but he’d had time to forget most of the details of a life where you had to think about money. He was aware that Zanna didn’t envy them their lifestyle (if anything she seemed to find it somewhat humorous) and was perfectly used to providing for herself. But – he couldn’t just let her keep taking the bus.

When Jeremy got back from the beach later that evening, he found Arik, Daniel and Jill in the den, watching the Lakers on TV. He dropped onto the couch beside Daniel and said to him, “Want to go car shopping tomorrow?” “I don’t mind,” said Daniel. Arik said, surprised, “You’re finally giving up that piece of shit you call a vehicle?” “What? Oh, no,” said Jeremy. “Not for me. For Zanna.”

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Daniel said, “That’s a good idea. She shouldn’t be taking the bus.” “Did you ask her about this?” said Jill. Jeremy looked defensive. “No,” he said. “What was I gonna say? Hey, Z, I don’t like this bus thing, so let’s get you a car? She’d tell me to fuck off.” “No, she wouldn’t,” said Daniel. Jeremy looked at him, surprised and somewhat hopeful, and Daniel added, “She never talks that way, haven’t you noticed? She’d say, forget it, or something like that. Or maybe she’d say you’re like, an overbearing, paternalistic, arrogant something or other. She has a very good vocabulary.” Jeremy said impatiently, “I don’t care what she calls me, she can’t keep taking that fucking bus.” Jill said gently, “But Jeremy, you have to realize that she’s obviously used to looking after herself, and doing things her own way.” “I know that! But-” he broke off in frustration. They were all looking at him sympathetically. He said, “Okay, just tell me this: what kind of car do you think she’d be least offended by?”

In the end, it was Arik who went car shopping with Jeremy in the morning. They had decided on an SUV (“If she hates freeways, it’s better to be up higher,” said Daniel) nothing ostentatious (“Absolutely no Landrovers or Mercedes,” said Jill firmly) and after Arik looked up safety and reliability ratings on the Internet, they fixed on Toyota. At the dealership, they argued over Forerunners vs. Rav4s (“It’s fucking tiny!” said Jeremy of the latter. “Girls think they’re cute,” Arik told him) and finally agreed on a midsize model. Jeremy had to sign about a hundred papers, but finally they were done and drove to the beach, Arik in the new one with Jeremy following in his own battered edition. Matt and Zanna were drinking coffee on the terrace when they pulled up. Jeremy tried not to think about the implications of that. He got out and joined Arik in the driveway. It occurred to him belatedly that he didn’t really know what he was going to say to her. Matt said to them, “Hi. Want some coffee?” and Arik said yes, thanks, so Matt got up and came back with two more mugs, Jeremy

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registering that he seemed very at home here. Zanna said, “Where are your boards?” in mild surprise, having evidently assumed they were just leaving their cars at Tom’s while they went surfing. Jeremy took a deep breath, and plunged in. “Look, Zanna, you can’t keep taking the bus, it’s dangerous,” he said. “You have to trust us on this, we’re from here, you’re not.” Zanna’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve never taken that bus in your life.” “I don’t have to, I read the paper, okay?” he said. “Anyway,” he took her hand, and put the keys, on their shiny complimentary Toyota keyring, in her palm. “This is for you,” he told her. Matt looked at the driveway, and gave a soft whistle of appreciation. Zanna didn’t even look. She handed the keys back, saying firmly, “That’s very kind of you, but I can’t.” Jeremy said impatiently, “Yes, you can. You have to,” and Zanna, her voice no longer quite as calm, said, “Excuse me?” Jeremy heard the dangerous edge in her tone, and thought, fuck. He said, “Zanna, I know that viewed from one point this might strike you as a paternalistic, overbearing, arrogant thing to do, but you know, I care about you, and I can’t help that, and I can’t stand the idea that you’re walking and biking and taking the fucking bus everywhere by yourself-” and she interrupted “Jeremy, I appreciate the gesture, and I am not trying to be difficult here, but I hate driving other people’s cars-” “It’s yours, okay-” “And I can’t possibly accept a gift like that-” “Why the fuck not-” Arik, who had foreseen this problem (or at least, Jill had and told him about it), thought it was time to intervene. “Shut up, both of you!” he ordered. They stopped, and looked at him. Arik noticed that Matt was grinning appreciatively, and thought he had an ally. He said to Jeremy, “Give me your keys.” Jeremy looked at him blankly, but handed them over. Arik decided to start with Zanna. “Z, you have to realize, we think of you as a friend, as well as a guest in our part of the world,” he began. “We want you to like it here. We most definitely do not

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want you to get robbed or raped at a bus stop. Also, for Jeremy, buying a car is roughly the equivalent of buying a pack of chewing gum for most people, because he is really fucking rich.” Turning to Jeremy, he said, “But you need to realize that while we may not agree with Zanna’s scruples, they’re hers, and she’s entitled to them. And if she says she can’t take it, then that’s it. End of subject.” Jeremy looked mutinous, so Arik continued hastily, “So here’s what we’re going to do. Zanna, you’re going to take Jeremy’s piece of shit Landcruiser to use while you’re here. It’s such a crappy vehicle you won’t be accepting much of a favor at all. Jeremy, you take the new one. That way Z still has transportation, without feeling like she’s compromising her integrity or whatever.” Jeremy and Zanna stared at each other for a moment. Then he said reluctantly, “I’m okay with that. But I still think-” Matt said rapidly, talking over Jeremy before he could screw it up, “That’s a great idea, Arik, perfect solution.” He nudged Zanna. “Z, say thank you like a good girl.” Jeremy couldn’t believe he could get away with talking to her like that, but she just laughed, and said, “All right. Thank you, Jeremy, for the loan of your truck,” her eyes dancing. He couldn’t help but smile back at her, and he said politely, “You’re welcome, Zanna.” “Oh good,” said Matt happily. “I hate taking the bus. It scares the shit out of me,” and they all broke out in laughter.

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Chapter 16

Jump Cut’s sojourn in Southern California was drawing to a close, and Zanna, for one, was regretful. The CD had been released, and was selling well. The band had played up and down the West Coast, drawing increasingly larger audiences with every appearance. They had done the video for “Life is Triage,” which was slated to be the next single. Zanna had also been talked into an appearance in Technical Difficulties’ video for “Gone.” It featured her rolling around in a fountain with Nick, and as Rachel had said, it was just sexy enough to be a little controversial and worth some free publicity. Since they’d be touring in the Midwest next, they were headed back to home base in Minnesota. The guys, with the possible exception of Matt, were glad to seek out familiar environs. Zanna was too, in a way, but she was aware that there was a lot about So Cal she was going to miss. Surfing, for one thing. And soon it was going to be winter, she vastly preferred LA’s version over Minnesota’s… There was something else, that she only half-admitted to herself. She was going to miss the songwriting sessions with Jeremy. Chemistry and Dark Angel were full grown songs now, and they’d moved on to other material. She’d even played a few times, at Arik’s, with the rest of Sex Gun. She’d been very diffident about that, at first, because she didn’t think she was good enough (she couldn’t really even read music, and she could barely play guitar, for heaven’s sake!) but they didn’t seem to care, and Daniel was incredibly sweet about helping her. They were all nice to her, in fact, in a casually inclusive way. She had started to wonder why 158

they had such a bad reputation, because mostly they seemed like a pretty well mannered bunch to her. She supposed it must be that newfound maturity… Jeremy himself, for the most part, was carefully restrained. He still treated her with the easy, almost proprietary affection that had thrown her off stride before, but she was getting used to it. He kissed her hello and goodbye on the cheek, he frequently touched her on the shoulder or knee, or rested his hand lightly on her back. She didn’t mind any of that, since he didn’t seem inclined to take it further. It felt somehow natural, and truth be told, kind of nice. She’d been surfing regularly with Kaoru when he was in town, and Arik often joined them. A few times, Jeremy and Johnny Deal came too, although, as Arik said, they tended to like their waves bigger than the others did. The week before she left, Zanna called Jeremy and asked if he’d like to get together one last time. They had several things in the fragment stage, and who knew when they’d have a chance to collaborate again. It had been a revelation, to Zanna, how smoothly the creative process could work when they were together. Jeremy had a genius for understanding what she was hearing in her head, even when she could barely put it into auditory form herself. And Zanna could listen to something and unerringly know how to edit it. Arik had commented privately to Jeremy that if the label ever figured out she had that talent, they’d make her a vice president and just turn her loose on their stable of artists, because she could probably get a hit single for almost anyone. “Let’s hope they don’t find out,” said Jeremy, “because she’s too good, herself, to spend her time on other people’s shit.” He grinned. “Except ours, of course.” Zanna had played with them on the Magic Moment recording. She and Jeremy had rewritten the song to make it longer, and Sex Gun had considerably altered the arrangement. But it was Zanna, even more than their producer Tom Scott, who had pulled it altogether. And in the end, as Johnny had inelegantly put it, ‘This Magic Moment’ was a fucking great record. Jeremy was surprised, but glad, to hear from her. He kept track of Jump Cut’s doings and knew she was leaving soon, and had been concerned about how he was going to maintain their fledgling relationship long distance. He knew from Matt, as well as from the

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media, that she was still seeing Nick Tzezna (and the first time he’d seen the ‘Gone’ video, he’d thrown the nearest object at hand at the TV – fortunately it happened to be the newspaper) but as far as he could tell, that thing seemed to be in a holding pattern. Jeremy still couldn’t quite figure out Matt and Zanna’s relationship; he suspected there was more to it than Matt let on. Certainly they were very physical with each other, both on and offstage. But there didn’t seem to be any point in being jealous of the younger man. He was obviously someone who mattered a lot to Zanna, and Jeremy figured like it or not, he was there to stay. And actually, Jeremy liked Matt personally. At times, he felt almost a sense of kinship with him; both of them in love with the same woman, and unable to do much about it. Zanna, as usual, wasn’t inclined to chat on the phone; she stuck with bare essentials. “ I was wondering, if you’ve got the time, if you’d want to have one last session before I take off,” she asked. “Of course,” said Jeremy. He mentally reviewed their joint work product, and decided happily that nothing was far enough along to make sense to do it with the others. “Tell you what,” he said. “Let’s take surfboards and drive somewhere and make a day of it.” He could feel her hesitate; this was way beyond their usual practice of meeting at Arik’s, where she could get up and leave whenever she wanted. This, for Zanna, was a commitment. “C’mon, Z,” he cajoled. “I promise I’ll behave myself.” She laughed a little at that, and capitulated. Jeremy put considerable thought into where to take her. Somewhere with decent surf, not too difficult, and atmosphere conducive to – well, personal interaction of a slightly more romantic nature. He was determined to be cool about this, and not do anything to scare her off, but he also had decided that things needed to progress, just a little, before she left town.

He had been both pleasantly surprised at how easily he could work with Zanna, and disappointed that it didn’t take them farther on a personal level. He had discovered that one of Zanna’s talents was the ability to focus on the matter at hand. When they got together to write, or play, her concentration was intense. She was largely

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unselfconscious and lost the wariness she often had around him. It was the same way with surfing; her attention was on the waves and she was mostly aware of him as a resource to improve her technique. He was glad to accommodate her; she was an apt pupil, and he got tremendous satisfaction out of watching her increased mastery of the sport. But all too often, afterwards she would go off to the movies with Matt or Kaoru, or out to dinner with Nick. It seemed she was only willing to have Jeremy in a few very limited slots in her life. Sometimes, though, there was a special intimacy in sharing those experiences that she allowed. When a song came right, when you caught a great ride on a wave, there was a sense of total euphoria, and when there was someone there with you…he was hoping for a little of that magic to have a mellowing effect on Zanna.

Jeremy was not a morning person. His love of surfing had overcome his natural a.m. inertia to the point where he could force himself out of bed, but he typically functioned on autopilot until he was actually at the beach. He got things ready the night before – surfboards, including an extra short board for Zanna to try, wetsuit, his knockabout acoustic guitar (he didn’t like to take the D28 to the beach), his notebooks, a blanket, towels, snacks, thermos ready for coffee, coffeemaker primed to be turned on in the morning. When he picked Zanna up in the very early hours, she seemed to be wide awake, and worse, energetic. Her movements were fast and kind of bouncy as she helped him strap her board to the rack of the new truck, and tossed the rest of her stuff in the back. Then she settled herself next to him, fastening her seatbelt and saying brightly, “Where are we going? I was listening to the surf report, but then I didn’t know what break…” She noticed he was looking at her, and frowning a little, and she said innocently, “What?” He said accusingly, “You’re – perky.” “Am I? Does that bother you? I’ll shut up.” She was anxious to accommodate him on anything simple. Jeremy grinned, reluctantly. “It’s okay,” he said. “Don’t change. It’s just I didn’t know that about you. It’s an eye-opener.” He had wondered what it would be like waking up with her, when she

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wasn’t freaked out and hung over. Well, now he knew. God. Zanna, somewhat chastened, sank back in her seat and looked out the window, staying quiet. They were headed up the coastal highway. Jeremy hadn’t answered the “where” question, but she didn’t want to ask again. Jeremy reached over then, and rested his hand on her knee. It was warm against her bare leg. He said, “Sorry for being grouchy. I wake up kind of slow. We’re going to stop by Malibu before it gets too crowded, then out to Point Parrish.” “Oh! Great,” she said. Her tone was relieved, and she smiled happily at him. They surfed Malibu beach until the waves became inundated with bodies, then Zanna called to him “I’m going in,” and rode the next one all the way. He stayed out a little longer, hot- dogging shamelessly he admitted to himself, but it was a blast even if it did smack of doing wheelies on your bike for the benefit of the cute girl next door. The cute girl herself was awed by his athleticism. And with him safely out of reach, on the water, she could allow herself to…well, sort of drool over him. At this safe distance, she could admit that he was totally hot. He was coming out of the water now, board hoisted easily under one arm (how she envied men that upper body strength!) and grinning at her. They walked up the beach together, feet plunging in the loose sand, and she sneaked a sideways look at him. The hard line of his jaw didn’t look so uncompromising when he was laughing like this, and she liked the slant of his cheekbones, in fact she was fascinated by the angles of his face, and it was near impossible to look at that mouth without…. Whew. She shook herself mentally. It might be a really good thing, for her peace of mind, that she was leaving town. They found a shady spot in the beachside park, and spread out the blanket. Zanna asked “What have you been working on?” and Jeremy passed her his latest notebook in response. “Nothing coherent,” he said. “I’d like to go back to your broken glass thing, though.” She nodded, lying on her stomach on the blanket, propped on her elbows, bare feet in the air, as she looked over his notebook. Jeremy noticed, not for the first time, what a really great ass she had. Her waist and hips were narrow yet beautifully curvy, and her derriere was small but so shapely, and he

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remembered, really firm, all that running, he supposed… Zanna loved Jeremy’s notebooks. He was completely unselfconscious about sharing them with her, which she still found sort of amazing. She’d dispensed with the journal type writing in hers (she had a separate one for that now) since they had fallen into this pattern of working with each other’s raw material. She remembered something suddenly. Looking up at him, she said, “I still have your red notebook. The one you sent me.” Jeremy glanced down at her, his expression enigmatic. It was something they’d never talked about, neither what he’d written, nor the message she’d left him after reading it. Then he smiled. “Keep it,” he told her. “Souvenir of LA.” “Thanks,” she said, surprised but pleased. “I’ll treasure it, along with my Fury lunchbox.” Matt had found the latter at a flea market, and had given it to Zanna to celebrate the release of ‘Taste This.’ Jeremy laughed. “I’m in good company then. Me and a big black horse. Cool.” She grinned, and turned her attention back to the pages in front of her. As usual, Jeremy’s pages were a mix of poetry, disconnected sentences, commentary, and pen and ink sketches. It was a little strange looking at it, because she knew a lot of it had to do with her, but oddly enough, it wasn’t particularly awkward. She supposed it was because she was looking at it from the standpoint of a songwriter, rather than his-whatever. She smiled at a sketch of Arik, bending over his bass, done in a few quick, sure lines. She went over a series of sentences, not exactly a poem, but they read with a nice cadence, although some lines didn’t quite seem right to her. It was about wanting more than sex from your lover. About wanting a relationship… Jeremy was pondering the broken glass lyrics, and thinking they sounded more like him than her, since it had an edge of bitterness towards the lover who had left. It was hard to imagine Zanna feeling that way. He wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t even notice. Actually, she probably took off herself, before it ever came to that… “Got a tune for this?” he asked. “Not really.” She sat up. “Sort of a feel, though. Mid tempo, and that dark guitar sound, you know? Like Cracker on ‘Be My Love, or maybe you guys on ‘Way.’” She leaned closer to him,

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reading the lyrics she’d written over his arm, then half talking, half singing through them. Jeremy listened closely, and fastened on two lines that had an actual melody. He tried with the guitar, finding the chords, and Zanna nodded in agreement. He took out a mini tape recorder and turned it on – often they went through ideas so quickly this was the only way to be sure something didn’t get lost. Later, he’d go back and listen to the tapes, to see what they might have missed. Zanna sang his chords, half under her breath, and went on improvising haphazardly. Jeremy caught something, sounded it in his head. He tried it out loud – no, not quite. He put the guitar aside, and Zanna moved up close to him, her crossed legs against his. She sang it almost but not exactly as he had, and it was closer. They sounded it out together and suddenly there was a clear melody that seemed right to both. He picked up the guitar again, working out the chords, with Zanna listening, and interrupting – “no, it has to go up, there. Da da DA!” and it took on real shape, until they sang through it together, and knew they had a song. Zanna couldn’t believe how easily he could do this stuff, just come up with a tune like that. Jeremy was thinking he’d never worked with anyone, not even his band, who could take all the false starts and broken notes in his head and make it sound like something. He was feeling her legs against his, and thinking that this songwriting stuff was like a head trip version of making love with her – each of them giving something to the other, coming together and finding something complete. He looked at her, and she was smiling at him, happy with what they’d accomplished, and he was too, really, only it didn’t seem like quite enough, with her so close. He moved towards her, his eyes on her mouth, and she started to scoot herself out of reach – a mistake, from her point of view, because when she uncrossed her legs, he took advantage of her momentarily open position to move between them, and he seized her by her hips and pulled her onto his lap. When she leaned away, he let her weight tip them both over backwards, one arm around her waist. And now she was lying on her back, with him more or less on top of her, between her sprawled legs, and it was beyond being suggestive. She said rapidly, before he could kiss her, “You said you’d

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behave.” “I lied,” he said, thinking god, she feels so good, as he ran one hand up her leg, feeling the strength of her hamstring and that wonderful little curve where- “That’s not fair,” she protested, shoving against his chest. Jeremy looked down at her, and sighed. Okay, he had to admit, she didn’t look ready for this. She looked – well, scared, and he felt bad about that. He wanted her, but not like this. He wanted her willing, and eager, and - Well, god damn it, he wanted her to love him. That was what it came down to. Even if she did acquiesce, sex wasn’t enough. He’d already learned that lesson. So – time for a nice, cold, swim. “Yeah, okay,” he said, and eased back, his weight off her. He couldn’t resist pausing by her knee, and kissing the inside of it in a slow, thorough way that was part kiss, part lick, part suck, and that made her go completely still, and make just the tiniest little sound, something between a sigh and a gasp. Then he got up, and said, “Let’s hit Point Parrish,” and reached a hand down to her. Zanna felt like cursing him; her every nerve seemed to be on fire, it was like the resistance in her head made her treacherous body even more ready, in sort of an inverse proportion. The more she wanted to resist, the less willpower she had…she ached, physically, with desire, her breasts were hypersensitive, nipples taut, and she was wet, god damn him, her face burned with embarrassment. Jeremy noticed the color in her cheeks. He liked the way she blushed, it was subtle, but visible and it let you know that there was more going on under her cool manner than she was otherwise revealing…she took his hand, and he pulled her up, god, she weighed next to nothing, well maybe she’d work up an appetite surfing. He wondered if she liked fish tacos. There was a place near Point Parrish beach… She did, it turned out. Point Parrish was almost deserted that afternoon, and the two to four foot swells were coming in nicely paced sets. Jeremy took advantage of the conditions to give Zanna a lesson, and at one point had her come up on his board for her first experience with tandem surfing. They wiped out several times, which never seemed to

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bother Zanna. He was glad to see that she always came up laughing, at home in the water. She had a physical lack of fear that occasionally verged on recklessness, though, and he made a mental note to keep an eye on that tendency. It didn’t occur to him that he himself was the same way, so the irony of this was lost on him. Zanna lost her momentary self consciousness, after the incident in the park, in the sheer exhilaration of surfing. Since Jeremy couldn’t very well make any serious passes at her out here, she was free to enjoy his companionship and even flirt a little. He knew this, and didn’t mind. He loved it when she dropped her guard, whatever the circumstances. He knew he couldn’t, in all conscience, test her any more today without seeming like a pushy bastard, and he resolved to keep her in this relaxed mood. They had their tacos on the deck of the small fish house that Jeremy had remembered. Zanna thought they were delicious, with the crisp lettuce and spicy fresh salsa, and ate three, messily, licking the remains off her fingers. There was a spectacular technicolor sunset, and even though Jeremy knew it meant a high level of pollution, he still could appreciate the glorious display. Pink and gold streamers laced across the sky, and Zanna looked at it, and sighed gustily. “I’m going to miss this,” she said. “Yeah? What part?” She swung her arm out in an encompassing gesture. “All of it,” she said. That could just mean the sunset, and the surf, and the fish tacos, he supposed, but he liked to think it might include him, too.

Later, he pulled up in front of Tom’s little guest house, and they both got out, and unloaded her stuff. Zanna thought about inviting him in, rejected it immediately as way too hazardous. Pity, though. Jeremy said, “When do you go?” “Day after tomorrow.” “Hell.” Sex Gun left the next day to play a benefit for a drug rehab program. He said, “So, since this is it, how about a goodbye kiss?” His smile was just a little bit evil. Zanna knew a challenge when she heard one. Okay, buster, you asked for it, she thought. She leaned full against him, and kissed

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him thoroughly. She could easily feel his response, and for a split second she wanted to… Then she stepped back, out of reach, and said, “Goodnight.” Jeremy was breathing hard. He said, “Huh?” She gave him her own version of the wicked grin. “See you around,” she said, as she went into the house. Jeremy, still standing in the driveway, wondered if you could actually die from not having sex. He thought it might be possible. Certainly, sometimes it felt like it.

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Chapter 17

Out and About Entertainment Now magazine …and at the premiere of Lars Heller’s latest film “Single Family Dwelling,” Sex Gun rocker Jeremy Kane stepped out with actress Ashley Laughton. The pair were taking a break from work commitments, as Kane, 36, is getting ready to go on tour, and Laughton, 25, will soon start work on the remake of “Pajama Game.”

Hollywood News …the benefit for the Los Angeles food shelf drew out a number of local luminaries, including Jeremy Kane of the alternative rock band Sex Gun, and flavor-of-the-month Ashley Laughton.G

Sex Gun fan site Bulletin Board -Has Jeremy dumped Zanna? Freak3 -how could he, he never had her. Gunslinger -that was quick! Norah -hey, Ashley’s quite the babe. MikeS -she’s a pea brain. Freak3 -don’t believe everything…surfdude -If he did, he’s insane. Howl

The first Zanna knew about it was when a journalist doing a feature on Killer App asked her casually when she and Jeremy had broken up. They were backstage at the Dane County Coliseum in Madison, Wisconsin. Zanna had an incipient cold and was feeling rotten anyway. She was chilled and shivery, and hoping she’d be able to 168

get through their set before her voice gave out. Jump Cut was doing a ten date spin through the Midwest with Killer App, who were on a prolonged national tour. Zanna quite liked KA’s music, but privately thought they were fairly reprehensible people. Jump Cut made a point of playing and getting the hell out of the way. Several members of KA, including their singer Adam Leskar, had shown considerable interest in Zanna herself, and her band and crew were under strict orders to make sure she was never left alone with them. Zanna thought it was ironic that Sex Gun had such a wild reputation, when from what she’d seen, they were practically wholesome compared to Killer App. The writer, a young man named Jake Something, smiled at Zanna, who was huddled on the couch in the hospitality room. He had apparently just finished talking with Leskar, and they stopped in to get drinks. Jake paused in front of Zanna, and asked, “So, any comments on why you and Jeremy called it quits?” She looked up, startled. He said, “At least, I take it you’re off, since Ashley Laughton seems to be his constant companion these days.” Zanna was at a loss for words. Her head felt thick and she couldn’t quite take in what he was saying. Surprisingly, Adam came to her rescue. “Let her be, Jake, she’s not feeling good,” he told the writer. “And anyway, I’m way more fun than Jeremy Kane ever was, so do you blame her for ditching him, when she can have me?” He gave Zanna an exaggerated leer for Jake’s benefit, and said, “The others should be in our dressing room. I’ll catch up to you in a minute,” and he practically shoved the writer out the door. Turning around, he regarded her for a moment, then came over to the couch and sat down by Zanna’s feet. She eyed him with some trepidation; she felt too lousy for fending off passes. Adam said, “You don’t know what he’s talking about, do you?” “No,” she admitted. “Jeremy’s been seen at some social functions lately with Ashley, and she’s been very chatty about him on the Internet,” he told her. Zanna said, “Oh.” She added, “It’s not my lookout. We’re not – whatever.” “Glad to hear it,” said Adam, giving her a speculative look.

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“Although he sounded in that MusicTown interview like he’d follow you to the end of the earth and back.” Zanna blushed. She knew exactly what part of the interview had caught Adam’s attention. “Don’t believe everything you read,” she said curtly. “If you didn’t look so miserable, I’d take advantage of this temporary lapse on the part of your chaperones,” he said, patting her foot, “to find out for myself.” “Don’t kid yourself you’d get anywhere,” she told him sharply. He laughed. He was an attractive man in his early thirties, with blonde hair cut short (for his last drug court appearance) and incongruous dimples. Rumor had it that he had a notable appetite for both groupies and drugs, and Zanna hadn’t seen anything that would make her think any differently. Spike, Jump Cut’s tour manager, entered just then, looking slightly alarmed at the sight of Adam sitting with Zanna. Adam got up in a leisurely way, and sighed ostentatiously. “I guess we’ll never know,” he said to her, and left.

Over the next few days, she saw the pictures and news snippets about Jeremy and Ashley, and took a look at the Internet. Adam was right, Ashley’s website featured a gushy monologue on how wonderful Jeremy was. It read more like something a Sex Gun fan would write though, then anyone who actually knew him. Still, it made her alternately depressed and savagely angry, and that was what was really worrisome. She didn’t want to care this much. Their last night with Killer App was in St. Louis. Zanna’s cold was almost gone, but she was run down and looking forward to going home. The audience seemed to be mostly what Andy referred to as POWs – Pissed Off Whiteboys. They yelled lewd remarks and by the end of Jump Cut’s set, Zanna was fantasizing about going postal with an ouzi. She stomped off the stage, glad to be done. “That sucked,” said David, behind her, and she agreed. They passed Adam, KA’s drummer and several blackleathered, blacklipsticked girls smoking a joint in the hallway. Adam said lazily, “Having a good time?” and Zanna replied incautiously, “Your fans are totally without

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redeeming societal value.” Adam said, “Obnoxious little motherfuckers, aren’t they?” The girls looked insulted. Adam didn’t appear to care. He said to Zanna, “I left you a farewell gift in your dressing room,” then laughed at her expression. “No tricks,” he said. “Don’t look that way. You’ll like it, trust me.” She thought that Adam Leskar was about the last person in the world she’d trust, but she said merely, “Thanks. Hope the rest of your tour goes well, “ she added politely. Adam laughed again. He looked pretty stoned. “It won’t be nearly as much fun without you to fantasize about,” he said mockingly. She left that unanswered as she continued on to Jump Cut’s dressing room with David. True to his word, there was a box with a big red bow on the table. Zan read the tag. “To Zanna who I dream about and lust over endlessly, forget that loser Jeremy and run away with me, with love and the promise of hot sex, Adam.” She had to grin, and put it aside as a bizarre tour souvenir. She untied the bow, and lifted the lid of the box. Inside was what looked to be a much washed and faded black t-shirt. Curious, with her bandmates looking on, she lifted it out, and started to laugh. It was an old Nirvana tour shirt, which had been cut out in the style of the ones she usually wore on stage. Over the Nirvana logo had been superimposed a red circle with a line through it, in the international “NO” symbol. They all broke up, and the tense mood that had prevailed for the past few days lightened considerably. Andy said, “Well, he may be a drugged out sleaze, but at least he’s got a sense of humor.” Matt said to Zanna, “You should wear it at our first gig with Sex Gun.” “What?” She turned to him, eyes widening. Andy said, “You haven’t checked your email lately, have you? We’re opening for the first two legs of their east coast tour.” She didn’t know if she wanted to swear or cry.

It was on the bus that night that David dropped his bombshell. He and Matt were sitting at the table, when Zanna and Andy got on. David said, “Hey you two, join us for a minute. We need to

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talk.” Zanna muttered, “I hate it when people say that,” but she slid in next to Matt. They looked at David expectantly. He leaned back, and said, “Jennifer’s pregnant.” Jennifer was his girlfriend of two years. Matt said, “Wow.” “Is that good news?” asked Andy shrewdly. David smiled, a bit sheepishly. “I think so,” he answered. “We were headed in that direction, it’s just moving up the timetable. We’re getting married at Christmas.” “Congratulations,” said Zanna politely. David chuckled, since everyone knew of her lack of enthusiasm for the institution. “Thank you, Z,” he said. Matt said slowly “So what happens to us? The band, I mean.” David looked somewhat distressed. “I feel really bad about this,” he said. “But I think my priorities have to be with Jen. I can’t do this parent thing over, you know? I want to get it right, and I think that means being with her.” He went on “We’ve talked about it, and she doesn’t think it’s a big deal if I’m not around much in the early months. So I can stay on through most of the winter, if you want.” “Well.” Andy sat back, and looked at the others. “We knew it wasn’t going to last forever. And at some point I have to go back to the shop. I can’t stick Jack with all of it indefinitely.” “And Z’s leave is only until next fall,” remembered Matt. Zanna said to David, “You’re right. If you’re doing the family thing, do it well.” Andy said thoughtfully, “There’s the practical aspect, though. The longer we’re out there, the more CDs we sell.” “So we do the Sex Gun tour, and see what else there might be. I suppose we’ll have to let Rachel know pretty soon,” said Matt. David said, “You know, you could just replace me. I don’t have a problem with that.” “Come to that,” added Andy, “you could find a bass player too, and keep going longer. Z’s got until September, but I’m only good through May. You might want to think about a new lineup over Christmas.” Matt and Zanna exchanged a look, and he said reluctantly, “I’d hate to do that.”

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Zanna said bluntly, “I can’t see it. And bass players and drummers are a lot harder to come by than guitar players.” David laughed. “Zan, it’s easier to get them when the band’s had a hit record.” “Still,” she said stubbornly. “It wouldn’t be the same.” “Just look at all the lessons from rock history,” Matt agreed. “The Peppers with Dave Navarro.” “Well, what about the Peppers with John Frusciante?” countered David. “He replaced Hillel Slovak, and played on Blood Sugar Sex Magik, arguably their best effort.” “Not a good example,” objected Zanna. “Given that he freaked out and quit in the middle of a tour.” “Okay. Consider Nirvana self destructing, but the Foofighters rising from the ashes,” said David. “That’s a terrible analogy. They’re different bands! All they had in common was one guy, Dave Grohl,” said Zanna. “Van Halen?” “Sucked with and without David Lee Roth.” “Ouch.” “Well, it’s not like you have to decide anything tonight,” Andy said. “True,” said Matt. He gave Zanna a gentle shove, and she slid off the banquette to let him out. He said to David, “Good night, Dad,” and went to lie down. Zanna smiled at the other two and followed Matt back to sleeping quarters. He swung his legs up and moved over to make room for her. She sat down next to him, and said, “Well.” “Yeah.” She said abruptly, “It matters most for you. The rest of us – we knew, sooner or later, we’d go back to the real world. But you always planned on doing this, didn’t you?” Matt slid the tie off his ponytail, and shook out his chestnut hair, which hung to the middle of his back, thick and glossy. He pulled his shirt off, and stretched out, linking his hands behind his head, a move that made the dragon’s wing ripple interestingly across his shoulder. He was wearing ancient sweatpants that slouched down on his hips. It occurred to Zanna that her lead player was pretty damned attractive.

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“Yeah, I did. And I gotta admit, Z, in a way I saw you as my ticket in. There are a lot of good guitar players around, but it takes something extra to front a band, and for sure, you’ve got it. Although if we never played another gig together, I would still hope we’d stay friends.” Zanna picked up a pillow and tossed it to the other end, so that they were lying head to toe. Matt smiled, knowing this to be one of her erratic boundaries, and she stuck her tongue out at him. He laughed, and slipped his arm around her leg with casual familiarity. She was struck by how well they knew each other. She was closer to Matt than she had been with any lover. Certainly this relaxed quality was in marked contrast to how she usually interacted with Jeremy Kane. The thought of Jeremy was like a sudden stab of pain, taking her by surprise. Matt said curiously, “Are you really going to be able to walk away from it so easily? ” Ruefully she said, “It’s not like I have much choice. The university won’t give me another leave of absence. And if I quit my teaching position, I might never find another one, it’s a tight field. And- I don’t know, I guess I need the security of a job with health insurance, and a pension, all that. It would be fairly insane to give it up to play rock roulette.” “Given your advanced years,” agreed Matt gravely. She kicked him lightly. “Smart ass,” she said. “You know what I mean. But you,” she went on. “You can’t very well go back to making cappuccino. You were born to do this, Matt.” He laughed. “I think the same thing about you, Z,” he told her. She sighed, and abruptly switched ends and curled up in the circle of his arm. She said softly, “Funny how things change. Now the idea of returning to a normal life seems weird.” Matt kissed her temple lightly, and said, “Well, you never know.”

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4 h›Œ™G ›ŒG oœ™™Šˆ•ŒS5 G žˆšG ™ŒŠŒ•›“ G ŠŒ™›Œ‹G ‹–œ‰“ŒG —“ˆ›•œ”SGˆ•‹G›ŒG‰ˆ•‹GšG“––’•ŽG–™žˆ™‹G›–G›ˆ’•ŽG›G–•G ›ŒG™–ˆ‹UG 4 ~Œ ŒGŽ–›GˆG“–›G–G”ˆ›Œ™ˆ“G›–Gž–™’Gž›SG‰–›G•ŒžG ˆ•‹G –“‹S5 G šˆ‹G ™–•›”ˆ•G qŒ™Œ” G rˆ•ŒUG 4 z–G –œG Šˆ•G ŒŸ—ŒŠ›GˆG“–›G–G‹Œ™Œ•›GšŒ›“š›šGJ GpG‹–• ›G›•’Gˆ• G›ž–G š–žšGž““G‰ŒG›ŒGšˆ”ŒU5 G |•“’ŒG”ˆ• G–G›–‹ˆ šG‰ŽG•ˆ”ŒšSGzŒŸGnœ•G™Œ“ŒšG–•G ›Œ™G œ•˜œŒG ‰“Œ•‹G –G ”œšŠG ˆ•‹G ˆ›“Œ›Šˆ““ G ŒŸ—Œ•‹Œ‹G Œ•Œ™Ž G –™G ›Œ™G “ŒG —Œ™–™”ˆ•ŠŒšUG G 4 {Œ™Œ šG •–G Š–™Œ–Ž™ˆ— SG •–G ˆ•Š G š—ŒŠˆ“G ŒŒŠ›šUG G ~ŒG ‰Œ“ŒŒG •G š—–•›ˆ•Œ› SGˆ•‹G›™ •ŽG›–Gš–œ•‹G›ŒG‰Œš›GžŒGŠˆ•S5 Gšˆ‹G rˆ•ŒUG G 4 ~Œ ™ŒG •ŒŒ™G Ž–•ŽG ›–G —œ›G –œ™šŒ“ŒšG •G ›ŒG —–š›–•G –G šˆ •ŽG –SG žŒG Šˆ• ›G Šˆ•ŽŒG ›ˆ›G š–•ŽSG ›ŒG “Ž›•ŽG ‹ŒšŽ•Œ™G •ŒŒ‹šG ›™ŒŒG ‹ˆ šG •–›ŠŒUG G ~Œ ™ŒG ˆG ‰ˆ•‹SG•–›GˆGi™–ˆ‹žˆ Gš–žU5 GG v—Œ••ŽG –™G zŒŸG nœ•G ž““G ‰ŒG œ—š›ˆ™›G ˆ“›Œ™•ˆ›ŒG ™–Š’Œ™šG q|twG j|{UG G {ŒG Š–ŠŒG –G ›–œ™•ŽG —ˆ™›•Œ™G ˆšG ™ˆšŒ‹G š–”ŒG Œ Œ‰™–žšSG ŽŒ•G ›ŒG ™œ”–™šG ™ŒŽˆ™‹•ŽG qŒ™Œ” Grˆ•ŒGˆ•‹Gqœ”—Gjœ› šGˆ••ˆGtˆ™›•UGGh™’Gq–•ŒšG ‹–ž•—“ˆ šG ›ŒG Š–••ŒŠ›–•UG G 4 s––’SG žŒG ‹–• ›G Š––šŒG ž– šG –—Œ••ŽG –™G œšG ‰ˆšŒ‹G –•G ž–G qŒ™Œ” G žˆ•›šG ›–G š“ŒŒ—G ž›S5 G ŒG šˆ‹UG G 4 {Œ G žŒ™ŒG ˆG “–ŽŠˆ“G Š–ŠŒSG ŽŒ•G ›Œ™G š› “ŒG –G ”œšŠUG G {Œ G ˆ™Œ• ›G “’ŒG œšSG ‰œ›G ›Œ™Gš–œ•‹GšGŠ–”—“”Œ•›ˆ™ Gˆ•‹G›Œ ™ŒG—Œ–—“ŒGžŒGŠˆ•G š›ˆ•‹G›–GˆŒGˆ™–œ•‹U5 GGoŒGŽ™•šGˆ›G›ˆ›aGGzŒŸGnœ•GšG •ˆ”–œšG –™G •–›G ŽŒ››•ŽG ˆ“–•ŽG ž›G š–”ŒG –G ›Œ™G —™Œ–œšG–—Œ••ŽGˆŠ›šUGGq–•ŒšGšˆ šG4 h›G›šGš›ˆŽŒG–G–œ™G “ŒšSG žŒ ‹G ‘œš›G ˆšG š––•G •–›G ˆŒG –œ™G Œ•œŒšG “››Œ™Œ‹G ž›G—Œ–—“ŒG‰ˆŠ’š›ˆŽŒG‹–•ŽG‹™œŽšGˆ•‹Gˆ•ŽGšŒŸG•G›ŒG ˆ““žˆ UG G v•ŒG –G ›ŒG •ŠŒG ›•ŽšG ˆ‰–œ›G qœ”—G jœ›G šG ›ˆ›G ›Œ ™ŒGˆ““Gœ•Š›–•ˆ“Gˆ‹œ“›šU5 G ~ˆ›ŠGy–Š’uŒ›G–™G‹ˆ›ŒšGˆ•‹G“–Šˆ›–•šG–Gš–žšG“ˆ›Œ™G ›šGžŒŒ’UG 175

Jump Cut Diary Dateline: somewhere in Wisconsin

Besides the big news that we’ll be opening for Sex Gun, you can also catch us in the next issue of Soundline.

And from the mail bag:

Q: How come the media focuses on Zanna so much? Don’t they know Jump Cut is a band, not just one person?

A: I’m almost glad you brought that up, because it’s been really bothering me, too! (this is Zanna, as opposed to the collective jc, now). When Soundline did an article on us recently, they wanted to do just me for a possible cover shot, and weren’t too happy when I said it was all of us, or nothing (and we’ll see if we make their cover next month, or not…) I think there’s a general tendency to give singers more coverage, although in our case, we do have two singer/songwriters – and god knows, I’m not the one with the most musical ability. Women are still rare enough in this genre, at least as part of a band rather than a solo act, to have some novelty value. I mean, how many members of No Doubt can you name, other than Gwen Stefani? Garbage? The Pretenders? See my point? You know Gwen, Shirley, Chrissie, because the press tells you about them, a whole lot more than the guys they play with. It’s hard to figure out what you can do about it, though, aggravating as it is. If I refuse to do interviews, it hurts the band in a different way – we don’t get that publicity, at all. And when I talk to journalists, all I can do is give them my take, I can’t actually control what they decide to print.

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Chapter 18

Zanna felt pretty bleak by the time she got home to St. Paul. After unpacking, and doing some desultory housekeeping, she wandered aimlessly around her apartment, her mind on a dreary track. Her band was breaking up, and her – what was Jeremy, anyway? Not her lover, not really her friend, either. Well, her whatever was with another woman. She hated feeling this way. This sense of loss, when it was nothing she had even really had. She knew, deep down, that there might well be nothing to it. It didn’t seem like Jeremy, somehow. But it made her aware of her own vulnerability. Even if it was nothing – she hated that anyone had the power to make her feel like this. And coming so quickly on the heels of the news about Jennifer…well, they pretty much knew from the start it couldn’t last. They never planned on lengthy careers as rock stars…she wasn’t at all sure she was cut out for it anyway. The nomadic lifestyle was a bit rough. And who was she kidding? She was a lawyer, a college professor, for crying out loud. An adult with a career and a 401K. How had she ever got caught up in this? Now she was in a band with a couple of top 10 hits (at least on the modern rock charts, although, granted, lots of cities didn’t even have modern rock radio stations). She had slept with one guy who’d been on the cover of Rolling Stone, and dated another. The last time she’d gone into a Borders book and music store, she’d been shocked to see hers and Matt’s likeness on a big poster advert for Taste This. It all seemed pretty surrealistic. And one way or another, before long her ride on the rock and roll rollercoaster was going to be over, and it was back 177

to- Pumpkins and mice, she thought crazily. Otherwise known as the day job. And the life that she had, after all, at one time been fairly content with. Hadn’t she? Well, she couldn’t solve it all tonight. She felt restless, and on edge, and with sudden resolution, she decided to go out. She changed into a short skirt and fitted top in stretchy bottle green velvet, with her usual black tights and boots, and motorcycle jacket. She put on eyeliner and mascara, and dark red lipstick. Whistling in the dark, she thought ironically. From habit, she went down to the Black Dog, where it had all begun. Walking in, she stopped abruptly and blinked in disbelief. Matt was behind the counter. It was a crazy time warped moment, like none of the past few months had happened. She knew exactly how Dorothy felt, coming to in her bedroom after the tornado. Matt glanced over, saw her and grinned cheerfully. “Chai?” he asked. “Sure,” she replied, looking at him quizzically. “So – was it all a dream sequence and I just woke up?” Matt said dryly, “I’m touching base with reality. Just in case.” As he slid her cup across the counter, Zan slipped onto a stool, took a sip and said, “That’s pretty much what I’ve been thinking about.” “Yeah? I thought you might be distracted by – the other stuff.” He watched her closely. She said, a little sadly, “What’s the point? There wasn’t anywhere for it to go.” Matt crossed his arms and leaned on the counter. “I think you’re wrong about that, Z,” he said softly. She met his eyes, and he was taken aback by the pain in hers. Abruptly, she drained her cup, and said, “Are you actually working, or just hanging out?” “Hanging out. Why?” “Want to go to the Firehouse?” He looked surprised. The Firehouse was a ballroom dance club, where they had gone pretty regularly in the “old” days. It was where they’d gotten the practice with the flashy swing dancing moves they’d incorporated into their performances.

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“Sure,” he said.

The club was fairly crowded, but people made room for them on the floor. Zanna noticed that they were getting a lot of looks, and wondered if people remembered them from before, recognized them from Jump Cut, or if maybe they were just a weird looking couple. Well, Matt was pretty hot, really, she’d stare at him herself. It felt good to dance again, and with Matt it was effortless, they knew each other so well as partners. They spun through the fast numbers, and did a slow, sexy tango. She could feel the music in her blood, the beat inside her head, even as she felt Matt’s hand on the small of her back. The song ended, and they drifted over to the side of the room, hand in hand. “Want to go see who’s playing at the Entry?” Matt asked her. She knew she didn’t want to go home, and it was as good a plan as any. “Lead on,” she said. The band happened to be Daystar, who they knew slightly from a festival they’d played. Ryan Cole, the singer/guitar player, recognized them and waved. Matt nodded back and Zan blew him a kiss. “You notice anything different?” Matt asked her. “Uh huh. We’re getting watched a lot. People know who we are,” she said. “It’s kind of weird. I guess I thought we’d come back, and things would still be the same. Like a time warp. But it’s not.” “I guess that’s what they mean when they say you can’t go home again,” said Matt thoughtfully. “God, that’s depressing!” she said feelingly. Matt looked at her with concern, but said nothing. She seemed to shake off the mood, though, and ordered a Corona. They listened to the band, and danced some more. On the break, Ryan came out and chatted with them, and asked if they’d like to come up and play on something. Zanna and Matt exchanged a look, and she asked, “Like what?” They compared cover play lists, and settled on the Plimsouls’ Million Miles Away. It was fun. She did the vocals, with Ryan joining in here and there, and Matt played lead. Their audience loved it. Zanna felt a sudden sharp pang; she

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loved this, being onstage with a band, everyone contributing to make a whole greater than the sum of its parts. She loved that feeling of collective energy. God, she was going to miss it….Afterwards, they high fived, and Ryan kissed Zanna, and she and Matt left the stage and went back to the bar. She ordered tequila, straight up. Matt looked surprised, since Zanna rarely drank. She caught it, and said to him, “All the demons are loose tonight. Join me?” He nodded to the bartender, and said, “Is this about Jeremy, or about the band?” She considered it “Not sure,” she admitted. “And I don’t care. Screw it. It’s a crazy world, and tonight I’m going to be insane right along with it.” The bartender set the shots in front of them, with a saltshaker and slices of lime. Zanna smiled. She turned to Matt and there was a touch of wicked mischief in her look. She picked up his hand, holding his eyes, and slowly ran her tongue across the inside of his wrist, then shook the saltshaker over it. She tossed down the shot, and sucked the salt from his arm. The feel of her mouth against his skin made him catch his breath. She picked up the lime and sucked on it, still looking at him. He did the same back to her. She signaled for another round. They danced some more, their bodies close, sharply aware of each other, in a way that was different than their usual easy familiarity. Matt did a quick mental calculation – given that she normally didn’t drink, and that she didn’t weigh much, Z had to be pretty intoxicated. He was hoping he had enough strength of mind to be a gentleman about this, and just get her home safely, when she kissed him. Well, shit, he thought, this isn’t helping. So much for willpower, he kissed her back. It wasn’t like they hadn’t done that before, after all…. But this was different. Always before, he could tell she was holding back. Even though, in the past, they had exchanged the occasional sexy kiss, there had always been that sense of something held in abeyance. But not now. He held her, felt her body fit naturally against his, and he kissed her long and deep, and she didn’t pull away, didn’t hesitate. She just kissed him back.

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God. What was he supposed to do now? “Let’s get out of here,” he said. She nodded.

They went back to Matt’s place, a loft in a downtown warehouse that also housed their old hangout, the Black Dog coffee bar. They were kissing in the elevator, in the hallway, at his door. They made it inside, and Matt threw his coat blindly in the general direction of the rack, heard it hit the floor as he slid Zanna’s leather jacket off her shoulders. He kissed her mouth, her cheek, the tender place under her jaw, her throat. Her eyes were closed, her head tilted back, her body leaning into his. His hand slid down her hip, along her thigh, pulling her leg up in a close parody of the tango move they’d done earlier. Now though, their bodies fit tightly together, the urgency of their need blatant. He pulled her shirt off, kissing her lips again as his hand cupped her breast. Through the silky black nylon of her bra, his thumb rubbed over her nipple, teasing, and she gave a soft gasp, and he felt her shudder and her hips rocked against him instinctively. He picked her up, carried her over to the bed, set her down gently and removed, in rapid succession, her boots, his shoes, his shirt. Then he was lying with her, feeling the satiny warmth of her skin against his, his hands tangled in her hair, touching her face as they kissed. And it was the realization that she was not stopping this, that made him pause. He drew back a little. “Hey. Zanna. Look at me.” She opened her eyes reluctantly. He saw, with shock, that they were brimming with tears. He said softly, “Oh no, Zanna, no. Don’t, please. I’m sorry. It’s okay.” He started to move back, but she surprised him by suddenly hugging him tightly, and whispering, “Don’t. Don’t stop.” He lay on his side, with her close against him, and held her and said, “What’s going on with you, Z?” “Oh, Matt, I don’t know,” she said, her voice low and sad. “It feels like the end of the world. Where all bets are off, all rules are gone.” She paused. “And I’m adrift, and lost, and pretty drunk, and I can’t remember why I always told you no.” Matt said gently, “Z, is this some kind of revenge on Jeremy?” She shook her head. “Then why? Why now?” he asked.

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“Because – oh, so many things. Because I’m not a nice person. Because it feels good. Because you’re beautiful, and I love you, and a part of me has always wanted to, anyway. Because I hurt, and I want comfort, and I’m selfish enough to take it in you.” “You’re welcome to it, Z. Doesn’t make you a bad person.” “I’m not so sure. I still can’t promise anything.” She laughed, a short ironic sound. “I can pretty much promise nothing.” “I know.” He held her away from him, so he could see her face. He said softly “Zanna, I have wanted you since the day I met you. It’s always been more important to be your friend, but that’s never stopped me from wanting to make love to you, and if you’re saying yes, it’s not going to stop me now.” He kissed her, his mouth lingering on hers, then went on. “I’m not kidding myself that this is going to last. But you want to know, more than anything else, why it is I want this? Even if it’s just tonight?” She nodded, silent, her eyes big and dark in the light from the street outside. Matt said, “Because we write these songs together, about passion that’s deep and intense, desire, love that burns like fire – and I’ve never experienced it. I’ve never felt that kind of longing, searing, caring feeling for anyone but you. And just once, I want to know what it’s like to feel it all the way through.” His smile had a wry twist, as he added “And I’m not a nice person, either, because I’m willing to take you now, even knowing your head’s a mess from tequila and Jeremy.” She said steadily, looking into his eyes, “This is not about him. This is about us. Here and now. That’s all.”

The night stretched into the weekend. They made love in every variety of mood, from hard and hot, to slow and sweet, to just having fun. For the next two days, they hardly left the loft. It was as if a glitch in space and time had isolated the two of them in their own narrow world, and for the moment outside reality had little meaning. When they got hungry, they’d throw on some clothes, Zanna borrowing from Matt’s wardrobe, and go downstairs to the Dog. Then they’d come back up, and read, or play guitars, or listen to music, and eventually the attraction that had always been between them would again take hold, and clothes would be carelessly

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discarded, and all the possibilities of two sensual people who love each other and know their time is limited would unfold. They explored each other inch by inch, until they knew one another’s bodies almost as well as they knew their minds. They made love in the bed, in the bath, on the couch, on the floor, on the kitchen counter. And in between, Zanna got more sleep than she had in months. By late Sunday afternoon they were satiated, sore, and curiously content. They were lying in bed, in each other’s arms, when there was a knock at the door. Reluctantly, Matt hauled on his sweatpants and since there was nowhere to go in the one room loft, Zanna put on his old plaid flannel bathrobe. They both knew it would be perfectly obvious to anyone what they’d been up to, but somehow, they didn’t care. It was David. He started to say “Hey, lazybones, how come-” then caught sight of Zanna and stopped short. “Oh, my,” he said. “That pretty much sums it up,” agreed Matt. “Is this a good idea?” asked David. Matt and Zanna said “Yes,” and “No,” respectively, at the same time, looked at each other and grinned. “Depends on how you look at it,” said Matt. Zanna said, “I’m going to take a shower,” and disappeared into the bathroom. Matt put some coffee on. It seemed appropriate, since they’d just gotten up. David and Matt sat down at the kitchen counter, and David asked, “So what happens now?” Matt thought about it, not for the first time. “Same as before, I expect,” he answered finally. “Only difference is we’re friends who know each other a little better, now.” “Maybe…” David started, but Matt shook his head. “It’s just not meant to be,” he said. “And I’m okay with it, really.” “Because of Jeremy? Is that why you don’t think it could work?” “Even without him.” Matt’s expression was rueful. “She was right all along. I wouldn’t be able to do it, on her terms. I would keep wanting more than she could give.” He got up and poured coffee for both of them. “I wonder if Jeremy can? Do it her way, I mean,” said David.

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“Wouldn’t be surprised,” answered Matt. He grinned suddenly. “They’re both such weirdos,” he said affectionately. “If they can ever get past all the crap, I think they might have a chance for something really good.” “That’s a big if,” commented David, and Matt nodded. Zanna emerged then, dressed in her own clothes, Matt noticed, with a small pang of regret. She helped herself to some coffee, and since there were only two barstools, hopped up on the counter, swinging her legs. Matt took himself sternly to task mentally, and repressed the memory that the sight of her, there on the counter, invoked. He had a feeling his loft was never going to look quite the same to him after this weekend; it was if the sight of her there had gotten imprinted on his retinas. Making an effort to sound normal, he said, “So what do you think? Any changes for the Sex Gun tour?” “Add ‘Downtown’ and that Grass Roots thing as options for the play list,” said David. “Now that we’ve got more songs, we can change it around from show to show,” added Zanna. Matt said to her, “What are you going to do about Jeremy?” and she replied, “Stay the hell away from him.” Matt and David both looked skeptical. “Won’t work,” said David. “Got a better idea,” she said, but clearly it was a rhetorical question, and she wouldn’t have liked their answers anyway. She slid off the counter, saying “I have to be getting home,” adding to Matt, “Walk me out?” They went out to the elevator, and Zanna pushed the down button. For a moment, they regarded each other in silence. Then Matt said, “How are you doing?” She smiled. “A lot better,” she said. “Thank you.” He hugged her, hard. “My pleasure,” he said. “Very much so, in fact.” She asked, “Are we okay?” and he answered, “Yeah, we are. Much as I hate to admit it, I would want to see you wake up every morning, and go to sleep with you every night. It wouldn’t work.” She said, “Well, let’s try really hard to not feel weird about this, all right?” and he laughed and said, “It’s a deal, Z.” He kissed her

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and said, “I have no regrets, Zanna.” A smile lurked in her eyes. “Was it as educational as you hoped?” she asked him. “You have no idea,” he told her. The elevator door opened, and he turned her around and smacked her backside lightly. “Get out of here, you wanton woman,” he said. She was laughing back at him as the doors closed.

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SEX GUN FAN CLUB MEET & GREET FOR CONTEST WINNERS Q & A with Johnny Deal and Daniel da Silva

Q: Daniel, what kind of guitar do you play on “After the Hurricane?”

Daniel: That’s an old Gibson. I got it years ago, from a guy in Texas. I also play it on “I will find a way.”

Q: What are your hobbies? Like, what do you do on the road to keep from getting bored?

Daniel: I listen to music.

Johnny: You’re talking about two different things. At home, Arik, Jeremy and I all surf a lot, but obviously you can’t do that often on tour! But I like to go to movies, and I’m getting interested in photography, so this time I’m bringing a camera and I’m going to do a photo essay on the tour. Arik’s kind of into the Internet, and he brings his laptop along. Jeremy reads all the time.

Q: do any of you have girlfriends?

Daniel: umm.

Johnny: not at the moment, want my phone number? (laughs) Arik’s seeing someone, and Jeremy doesn’t exactly have a girlfriend, but he doesn’t have a vacancy either.

Q: is it true that Jeremy’s dating Ashley Laughton?

Johnny: No, it’s not. She came up to him at some big social events, and someone took their picture, and it gave people the wrong idea. I guess she has kind of a crush on him, but he’s definitely not interested.

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Daniel: Jeremy said he’d strangle her if she came near him again.

Q: what are your favorite songs to play?

Daniel: it changes. This week it’s “Troubles.”

Johnny: Believe it or not, I think it’s still “Come Hard.” There are other songs that I think we sound better on, as a band, but for drumming that one’s hard to beat.

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Chapter 19

Rolling Stone, Loose Talk: “You see Zanna Martin, and mostly you want to fuck her. At least, I do, anyway. But you watch her for a while, and you want to get to know her. And if you’re around her for any length of time, you’re ready to marry the woman.” Adam Leskar, of Killer App, after touring with Jump Cut.

Zanna managed to avoid being alone with Jeremy until the eighth night out. It wasn’t easy. She was constantly on edge, because she was trying to do it without being obvious, or seeming rude. The tension was taking a toll on her: she had no appetite and hadn’t gotten more than four hours of sleep in a night since the tour started. He finally caught up with her after Sex Gun’s set in Lexington, Kentucky. She had stayed behind after Jump Cut was done to talk to some fans who had won backstage passes (in an odd way, they reminded her of her former students). By then it was almost time for Sex Gun to go on. There were a lot of people hanging around, planning on watching from the sidelines, including members of the band Rats Ass, who were playing the arena the next night. Zanna decided to stay herself. With a burst of inspiration, she persuaded a staff person to give her a SECURITY shirt and baseball cap. Remembering what had happened at Oceans, she thought that camouflage was a good idea if she was going to be anywhere near the stage. She hadn’t seen them play yet on this tour, and as the lights went down she felt the same thrill of anticipation that any fan would. From the first notes of ‘After the Hurricane’ she was captivated by the sheer power of their performance. 188

She meant to leave before the encore, but they had changed the setlist and she was taken by surprise. Not wanting to go backstage, she stayed where she was, talking with a couple of crew members. Then the band was back, and playing ‘Armed and Dangerous’ which she hadn’t heard them do before. She thought it sounded good, but noticed Daniel didn’t seem happy with it, shaking his head and making a face at Arik as they finished. They closed with ‘Body Language.’ Zanna was on the opposite side from where Sex Gun would exit, thinking as soon as they were out of the way she’d slip out to the bus. They were going on to Knoxville that night. She had reckoned without Jeremy’s sharp eyes, or extrasensory awareness of her, or whatever it was. As they called out the ritual farewell, he turned the opposite way and came right to her. “Nice disguise,” he said. “Almost worked.” She thought, fuming, that it was just typical of him to say something that was impossible to answer, and seemed to put her in the wrong. He fell into step just behind her as she left the stage, and said pleasantly, “How long are you planning on keeping this up?” Again, his calm assumption that they both knew what he was talking about made it difficult to respond. She ran lightly down the stairs, Jeremy in her wake. At the bottom he swung around her to block her path. Zanna said, “Shouldn’t you go change? Tanner said we’re running late anyway.” He was, as usual by the end of the show, naked from the waist up and his skin showed a fine sheen of perspiration. She added, “Good show, by the way. Tell Daniel I liked the new lead on Golden Girl.” “Tell him yourself. Ride with us to the next stop,” he said. “Sorry, can’t tonight. I need the sleep,” she said, and was quite proud of how casual she sounded. He started to speak, when they were joined by one of the guys from Rats Ass, who Zanna had seen earlier. He flicked a look at her, and said to Jeremy, “Hello, Kane. Long time.” Jeremy said, with surprising rudeness, “Let’s keep it that way.” As Zanna glanced at him, he put his hand in the middle of her back and gave her a little push, saying, “Let’s go, Z.” The guy said, sounding unpleasantly amused, “There’s a party at

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our hotel. You should come.” Jeremy said tightly, “Not interested,” and Zanna suddenly understood what ‘party’ meant in this context, The guy said, “Oh, come on – back to the good, bad old days. You’re not fooling anyone.” He added, giving Zanna a once over, “Bring the girlfriend. She looks good for a time.” Jeremy went completely still. Arik or Johnny could have told Zan what was coming next, that this moment of utter immobility inevitably was followed by an explosion of rage. But the combination of this distasteful reminder of Jeremy’s drug problems, an issue that still loomed large between them, and the offensive remark triggered Zanna’s own temper. Beating Jeremy to it, with a quickness that caught the interloper off guard, she caught his arm by wrist and elbow and spun him around. With one hand yanking his arm up his back, she put the other on his shoulder and slammed him face first into the wall, as Jeremy watched in amazement. Her voice had a razor edged tone that he’d never heard her use before. “He said, we’re not interested. Now get the fuck away from us or I will really hurt you.” She let go, and stepped back. The guy’s hands went up to his face, and came away bloody. Broken nose, diagnosed Jeremy. It was a concrete wall, after all. His own anger ebbed away in the face of Zanna’s sudden ferocity. He became aware that they had attracted the attention of everyone in the vicinity. He took Zanna by the hand and pulled her along with him, announcing to the onlookers, “This would be an example of just saying no.” They rounded the corner and ran into Tanner and Matt, who were evidently looking for them. Matt glanced at Zanna and said alertly, “What’s wrong?” Jeremy said matter-of-factly, “Z just beat up a drug dealer.” “She what?” said Tanner. “Well, technically, maybe not a dealer. Definitely a purveyor, though.” Jeremy went on, “You know him, Kurt Lytle from Rats Ass. Piece of shit.” Matt looked at Zanna. She said tersely, “He was in the way.” She was still angry, but also increasingly appalled by what she’d done.

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Matt said, “Well, they’re waiting for us. C’mon,” and Zanna said a barely audible goodnight to Jeremy and Tanner, and walked away with him. Jeremy hesitated. Tanner said impatiently, “Go clean up, would you, and hurry. We’re late,” and Jeremy said abruptly, “In a minute,” and loped after Zanna. They were already on the bus. Jeremy took the steps in one long stride, then paused, on the threshold. Halfway down the bus, he saw Zanna slide onto a double seat next to Matt. His arm went around her, and her head dropped onto his shoulder. The lead player asked her something, his head close to hers, and Jeremy saw her answer briefly. Then Matt pulled her into his lap, holding her closely with both arms wrapped around her, rocking her slightly. There was an intimacy in how she sought, and he gave, comfort that gave Jeremy a sharp pang of some unfamiliar emotion. Envy? Longing? Jeremy didn’t know if they were lovers in the conventional sense, but there was no doubting the depth of feeling between those two. Matt glanced up, and saw him. Over Zanna’s head, he shook his own briefly. “Not now,” he mouthed. Jeremy nodded in reluctant understanding, turned and got back off the bus. Shivering in the cold night air, still shirtless, he walked back into the arena, telling an exasperated Tanner, “Five minutes, okay?” It was more like fifteen minutes later that he joined the rest of Sex Gun on their bus, having showered and changed. He told them what had happened with Zanna. “Good for her,” said Johnny. “The asshole had it coming.” Daniel nodded in agreement. Arik said quietly to Jeremy, “You okay?” “Yeah. Kind of,” Jeremy said. He added honestly, “It was weird, you know? It’s been a long time since anything like this has come up. And for her to be there…” he shook his head. Arik was privately glad to know that apparently for Jeremy there had been no temptation. The singer’s concern was all for Zanna. He was saying, “She had this look – I don’t know, of revulsion, I guess, when she realized what he was talking about.” He paused. “It made me think – how she must see me.” “Have you talked to her about the whole drug thing?” Arik asked him.

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Jeremy shook his head. “Like I was about to bring that up.” “But you should,” Daniel said unexpectedly. “What you don’t know always seems worse. And you can tell she’s really straight, so you can’t expect her to just know things, and understand. You’ve got to share stuff with her.” “Yeah. Maybe,” said Jeremy. “But since she isn’t talking to me at all at the moment, it’s going to be kind of tough to have that particular conversation.” He leaned back and said thoughtfully, “I don’t see how it can get much worse. Right now, she thinks I went out on her, she’s had my drug laden past thrown in her face, and her lead player’s all too ready to give her whatever she needs.” “Look on the bright side,” said Johnny. “At least, for a change, you know where to find her.”

But it did Jeremy little good to know in theory where Zanna should be. For the remainder of the first leg of the tour, she was as elusive as ever. They no sooner got to a hotel than she changed her clothes and took off for a run. She wasn’t spending much time in her room, and she wasn’t going out to eat with the others. She didn’t even hang out much with her band: Jeremy saw way more of them than he did of her.

He had been somewhat grimly amused by the “No Nirvana” shirt, which Zanna had indeed worn the first night of the tour. She wore it again on the last night before the ten day break, when they played Cincinnati, Ohio. Once again, there were well known visitors backstage after the concert. When Jeremy saw who was talking to Zanna, he immediately sought out the nearest member of Jump Cut, who happened to be David. “What the fuck is she doing with Adam Leskar?” he demanded peremptorily. David sighed inwardly, foreseeing trouble on the not too distant horizon. “He’s got the hots for her,” he answered. They looked across to where Adam had just put his hands around Zanna’s waist. “He’s the one who gave her that shirt,” David added, as Adam was apparently admiring his gift. “Christ, don’t you guys have the sense to keep him the fuck away from her,” snapped Jeremy. “He’s totally bad news.”

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David was unflappable. “Some would say the same thing about you,” he pointed out equably. Jeremy said, “Adam Leskar makes me look like a fucking Boy Scout. More junk probably goes up his nose in a month, than I put in my veins in twenty years.” He stared balefully across to where Adam was standing very close to Zanna, talking with her in apparent amity. He might have been somewhat reassured had he heard their conversation. Adam was saying, “Come on, Zanna, just think how much it would piss off Jeremy to see you leave with me.” “Believe it or not,” she said, “annoying Jeremy Kane is not something I aspire to. He hasn’t done anything to me, and anyway, I still have to work with him for the next three weeks.” “I thought you had a break from touring?” “We do, but I have to do a video with them,” she said glumly. She was not looking forward to shooting “Magic Moment,” seriously doubting that it would live up to the title. Adam smiled lazily and said, “You should do one with me.” Zanna, in spite of herself, laughed. “Give it up, Adam,” she said. “I’m twice the age, and IQ, of what you’re used to.” Leaning closer to her, he murmured, “But you drive me crazy, Zanna, really you do. You’re still no.1 on my list of most fuckable women.” “What a coincidence,” she retorted. “You’re rapidly working your way up to the no. 1 slot on my list of people I’d most like to shove off a cliff.” Adam threw his head back and laughed. One of his few redeeming characteristics was that he didn’t take himself seriously. “Game to you, Zanna,” he said. He took her chin in his hand and before she could react, kissed her quick and hard on the mouth. Her hand swung up but he caught her wrist, with a surprisingly quick reflex. “Not this time,” he told her, with a gleam in his eyes. “No pain unless you’re going to dish out the pleasure, too. Then you can smack me around all you like.” “Dream on,” she said. “Oh, believe me, Zanna, I do,” he answered. She grinned, unwillingly, at his unrepentant impudence. “Go away, Adam,

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before I sic Jeremy on you,” she said. He shook his head, as he walked away. “You wouldn’t do that, Zan. I’ve noticed you fight your own wars.”

Jeremy, watching, was torn between going for Leskar and beating the crap out of him, and taking advantage of the fact that Zanna was temporarily alone. He opted for the latter. He went up to her, and said, “Nice company you’re keeping.” Zanna said wearily “Oh, shut up, Jeremy,” surprising both of them. She went on “Could we call a truce for tonight, and skip the sarcastic remarks for a change? It’s actually none of your business who I talk to, anyway, any more than -” she broke off abruptly. “Than what,” he pressed her. He wanted this out in the open. She said flatly, without looking at him, “Than what you do, is mine, all right? So would you mind either leaving me alone, or talking about something else?” This put him in an awkward position. If he persisted, he’d seem churlish. Silently he looked down at her. He noticed suddenly that she seemed to have lost weight, and she looked both drawn and tired. There were dark shadows under her eyes, and the hollows of her cheekbones were more pronounced. He said gently, “Okay, Z, we’ll leave it for now.” She said “Thanks,” and sounded like she meant it. The worst thing, thought Jeremy, was that there was so much they needed to talk about, to get through, if they were ever going to get anywhere, and none of it was easy going. Sex and drugs and violence, all the usual things that had dogged him from his earliest days in rock music. With a grim burst of humor, he thought that she was catching up to him in controversy. To quote Meat Loaf’s 80s hit, two out of three ain’t bad. He searched for a neutral topic. “So how do you like touring so far?” he asked her. She took the question seriously. “It’s hard,” she answered. “It’s so disjointed – off the bus, into a hotel, into a venue, onto the stage, off again, back on the bus- and people around you all the time. I don’t see how you’ve been able to do it for so long and stay sane.” “Well, some people might argue the sanity part,” he told her, and was gratified to see her smile a little. “How about doing the

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shows?” She looked at him for the first time. “That’s what makes it worth it, isn’t it,” she said. “That thing that happens, when you go out there and start to play. That flow of electricity through everyone in the band. The surge of power you get from the music. The wave of energy that comes off of them, all those people who came to see you.” “Yeah. There’s nothing like it,” he agreed. She continued, “It’s difficult, though, to try and do it night after night.” “It doesn’t show. You’ve been great.” Almost shyly, she said, “Really? Because I’ve been having trouble keeping my voice consistent. And some nights my throat’s sore by the end of it, and I sound hoarse, I think.” He nodded. “Happens to me, too,” he told her. “It’s one of the reasons we put more breaks into the national tours now, and why we don’t play for hours like some bands do. If we did that, I’d sound okay for the first four or five shows, than the rest could be some guy off the street if you closed your eyes.” She laughed. Encouraged, he decided to broach more difficult ground. “About the other night,” he began. Warily, she replied, “What about it?” “Got kind of a temper, don’t you?” She said ruefully, “I know I shouldn’t have done that. It’s just he was so- yuck!” “Absolutely yuck,” agreed Jeremy. “Still. Why did it get to you that way?” She said slowly, “Because I hate –that, what he stands for. The ugliness and destruction that’s caused by it.” Her voice was carefully even as she went on. “ I hate the way addicts are like train wrecks waiting to happen – when they derail, they take out everything in their path. If you’re standing too close, too bad. And if you really want to know, I hate it that it’s part of who you are, and I hate that it’s there between us.” Jeremy was taken aback by this sudden forthrightness. Obviously Daniel had been right and the drug thing weighed more heavily on her than he had known. He remembered her caustic

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remarks about the junkie blues, and heard again in his head her voice singing about giving your life away, and he wondered how he could make her see that he would not, could not, be so careless with her. But that would mean telling her exactly how much she meant to him, and he sensed that there were other issues, on her side of the equation, that it wouldn’t be wise to push just now. He chose his words carefully. “You’re right, about most of that,” he said. “And I can’t change my past. But I’ve been clean for years now, Zanna.” She said, not looking at him, “But you’ve done that before, haven’t you. And it didn’t last.” “That’s true,” he said quietly. “And it’s hard to explain why it’s different now. Before – it didn’t seem to matter much, if I lived or died. It was easy to do all kinds of dangerous things, heroin included. I don’t mean that I was suicidal, just that my life didn’t seem like a big deal. And so when those demons would rise up, I’d let them sink their hooks in, just to see how far they could drag me down before I’d beat them back. It was a sick kind of challenge, I suppose.” She said, “I know about demons. But why didn’t it matter more?” He hesitated. This was going into territory he’d barely been able to explore himself. “That’s a long, sordid story,” he said finally. She was silent. Then she said, “Before…those other times that you quit. Didn’t you think you were over it then?” It was a good question. “Yes and no,” he said. “I knew that I should be, I wanted to be, but- until you know why you’re going there, you don’t really know why you have to stay away.” “And now you think you know?” “Yeah. It’s more than that, though. Now I’ve got a lot more- appreciation, I guess, for what there is to stay alive for.” “And what happens when you’re feeling really down, when you can’t remember what’s good?” Jeremy said thoughtfully, “You still have to remember what you owe to other people. The last time – what did it finally was hitting a place where it was like I was seeing myself from the outside, and I couldn’t stand who I was. I thought, you self indulgent piece of shit,

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you’ve been lucky enough to have a couple of people who cared enough to invest their time in you, and you’re not even trying to do something with it. I thought about Arik, who had always been there. Who’d thrown my ass into detox, bailed me out of jail, stuck by me and didn’t replace me in the band when I went to prison. But even he’d finally given up, that last time, and put an ocean between us. And I realized it’s not supposed to be easy, this life, but it’s all you get, and you need to keep going. It matters.” “It should,” she said softly. “And anyway,” he went on, “there’s almost always something, you know, that can remind you of why it’s worth the trouble. Sometimes it’s the small things that make the difference. Hearing a song on your car radio. The smell of the ocean. Or watching the way a girl’s eyes change color,” he dared, watching her. She turned, and looked at him, her expression somber. “I don’t want to be anyone’s reason for living,” she said. There was something starkly painful in her face. Jeremy said, with dawning realization, “What skeletons are in your closet, Zanna?” She looked almost shattered, said only “I can’t do this,” and turned sharply away from him. She left swiftly, disappearing up the hall, leaving him wondering.

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Chapter 20

Soundline Video News Sex Gun, taking a short break from touring, recently filmed a video for their cover of “This Magic Moment.” The song is the LA band’s contribution to a compilation CD benefiting the Animal Relief Foundation. Co-starring in the video is Zanna Martin from Jump Cut, who have been opening for Sex Gun. Rumor has it that things got very steamy between Martin and Sex Gun frontman Jeremy Kane, on the set. Martin couldn’t be reached for comment, but Kane did say it was “the best time I’ve ever had doing a music video.”

MusicTown What’s new….No strangers to controversy, Sex Gun is once more on the firing line with regard to sexual content in their latest video, “This Magic Moment.” Feminist organizations and the Parents Against Prurience declaimed the video as being analogous to porn, and glamorizing violence towards women. The video is due to premiere next week. A spokesperson for the band said the charges are unfounded, and that in the motion picture industry, “this would barely be a PG-13.”

RockNet Newsline Spotlight on: SEX GUN, This Magic Moment. Tune in Thursday to see what the controversy is all about. Jeremy Kane has his magic three minutes and forty nine seconds on a rooftop with Zanna Martin. Will they?? Did they?? RockNet goes behind the scenes to turn the spotlight on how director Kate Everett captured such incendiary footage. Is it real, or is it Memorex? You decide...watch the interviews with 198

the band, the director, and special guests Zanna Martin and Nick Tzezna (!) of Technical Difficulties. Then watch the video’s premiere.

Plus the latest from Bush, Filter, and more...G

Transcript: Video Spotlight: Sex Gun, This Magic Moment. Director: Kate Everett. From: Take Two (compilation, multi artists, benefit for Animal Relief Foundation) Note: the following interviews were conducted separately, and edited into the format shown in the Spotlight segment, which this transcript follows).

Kate Everett: The concept was sort of a gritty, industrial look “From Here to Eternity” scene, shot on a rooftop and intercut with takes of the band playing the song live. No fancy special effects, and we shot it in black and white. I was going for dramatic visual impact, and that depended on subtle camera techniques, and of course, the chemistry between the two of them.

Arik Jones: Maia Stadick had been involved with the animal project, and she asked us to contribute a track for the CD. Zanna Martin was the one who suggested “This Magic Moment” and Jeremy said we’d do it, as long as Zanna agreed to appear in the video. (Pause). Jeremy…uh…kind of has a thing for Zanna Martin.

Kate: I remember, before we started filming, looking at him and thinking, “Uh oh.” He’s so intense, and practically radiates sexuality, and he was very focused on her.

Arik: it was very uptight on the set. You could see everyone was looking at the two of them and just wondering what was going to happen. (Pause). Jeremy is not known for impulse control.

Nick Tzezna: it was a terrible idea. He was completely obsessed with her, and giving him the green light in a love scene was like turning a starving panther loose with a gazelle.

Kate: Beside him, she looked so fragile. Jump Cut had been on tour for a while, and she had lost weight and was close to exhaustion. We had her 199

costumed in this wispy little dress and she just looked tiny. He was in nothing but a ripped pair of jeans, and he’s got that really developed, muscular build, and he’s a big man. Next to him, she looked breakable.

Arik: I think Jeremy managed to follow the blocking for about five seconds.

Kate: I didn’t know what to do! I’m thinking, do I stop this, or what? But I let the cameras keep rolling, because I could tell it was great footage. It wasn’t in the script, but it was visually stunning.

Jeremy Kane: It was okay until the part where I licked her throat. At that point, I forgot all about the cameras, the people, it was all blocked out completely from my mind. There was Zanna, and that was all.

Zanna Martin: It was probably bad timing for doing the video….we were coming off the first segment of the tour, and hadn’t been getting along particularly well. I think there were a few too many pent up feelings.

Jeremy: I’d been around her, and getting nowhere, for several weeks leading up to the shoot. (Pause) I was – frustrated. (Pause). In every sense of the word.

Zanna: I could tell exactly when he lost it. Then I got kind of caught up in it, too, and to be honest I don’t remember much until I heard Kate yelling at us.

Nick: It looked like he was going to rape her, right there and then. He spun her around and pinned her against the wall with his body as he was kissing her, and then he ripped her dress from the neck all the way down.

Zanna: It actually wasn’t quite what it looked like – I was kind of shocked when I saw the video, because it does look as though he’s…well, tearing my clothes off! But what happened was that the dress I was wearing had these decorative metal buttons down the front, that were shaped like little 3D stars, and they were sharp as hell. So when he pulled me right up against him, those buttons were like tacks going into his chest. You can’t see it in the video, but we both kind of recoiled, and went ow! And Jeremy said “fuck this,” and that’s when he ripped the dress. It had more to do with

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eliminating pain than it did with stripping off my clothes. He actually had bloody welts from those buttons.

Kate: at that point, with her dress hanging half off, she’s leaning back against the wall, and he’s sliding down her, to his knees, holding her by the waist and kissing her bare tummy, and everyone’s just going ‘omigod.” Then she slides down to the ground, and right here, I was afraid it was going to get X-rated, but fortunately he turned his head to the side and brushed his face over her hip instead, and as she lies back he’s kissing and licking his way down the inside of her leg. Then he did the thing with her toes. That was kind of playful, cute, really.

Arik: that girl is incredibly flexible. Dunno how she can get her leg in that position.

Nick: I could not believe that Kate wasn’t going to stop it. I quit watching them at that point. I couldn’t stand it.

Kate: so at that point he’s over her, and it was a great shot, with all those rippling muscles, and then they were kind of rolling and twisting around, which was quite close to what the script called for. Maybe a bit more erotic than I’d planned on, but it worked really well. You can see the contrast between his incredibly powerful body, and her slenderness, that’s very effective. And of course, extremely passionate.

Zanna: at this point, it was just between the two of us. Everything else had ceased to exist.

Kate: this next bit was rather graphic, so we edited it into a series of quick flashes. He was leaning on his arms, with her under him, their legs are tangled up and his hips – there! – really thrust against her…it was very blatantly sexual, but I thought as a quick cut, we could use it without having the video banned from TV. (laughs).

Jeremy: all I know is, I was finally holding her, and kissing her, and feeling her, and I wasn’t about to stop.

Kate: I think I yelled “cut!” four times, with absolutely no result. Even two of

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the camera crew just kept filming them, which was lucky, because the best part of the whole video was probably after that. I finally hollered “Jeremy, damn it, cut it out!” and he heard that – you can see here how he sort of freezes. Then they start to unwind, and here, where they’re both on their knees, you can see him ask her if she’s all right. When he puts his hand against her cheek, and he’s ducking a little to be able to look into her eyes, he’s saying “are you okay? Are you okay?” and it’s an incredibly tender moment, after that almost violent passion.

Arik: Everyone watching looked kind of stunned by the end. That was one quiet set. And as they were getting up, Jeremy looked worried, he was watching Zanna the whole time. She seemed shell-shocked.

Zanna: It was disorienting to go from being so totally wrapped up in each other – literally, as well – to…oh yeah, this for a video, and there are a whole bunch of people here…you can’t just stop on a dime and not feel anything, and for me, it was both emotionally and physically wrenching when we got jerked back to reality, so to speak.

Nick: Zan seemed completely out of it. Some assistant walked over and put a blanket around her – there wasn’t much left of her dress, and she came over to where I was, looking like she was sleepwalking.

Zanna: I don’t know, I felt kind of shattered by the whole experience. I walked over to Nick, and I think I was almost in tears, and I kind of buried myself in his chest. (laughs). Poor guy, it had to be pretty weird for him, but to his credit, he was very sweet about it.

Jeremy: I felt like shit. I wanted her so badly, I wanted to be the one to comfort her, and there she is, out of my arms, into his, and she’s crying. I was ready to kill myself. (pause). Or maybe him.
MusicTown Sex and Violence? Sex Gun’s latest video is lambasted by feminists. Sex Gun’s latest video, “This Magic Moment,” is already under fire from feminist organizations, after only two days on the air. A spokeswoman from Women Against Violent Imagery said the music video “basically enacts a rape” “is demeaning” and 202

“shows a man using force to subjugate a woman.” WAVI is asking that music networks voluntarily ban the video from the airwaves. Peter Keller, vice president of RockNet, said that the network is opposed to such censorship and that in their opinion, the video has “no such objectionable content.” He adds, “It is sexual, but that’s nothing new.” Sex Gun could not be reached for comment, but Zanna Martin of Jump Cut, the woman in question in the video, had this to say: “What complete rot. Rape involves nonconsensual conduct, and no one could think that what was portrayed in that video was anything but reciprocal. Unless you think sensuality automatically involves subjugation, I can’t imagine how that would be a problem either. And while having your toes sucked by Jeremy Kane might be a little kinky, I’d hardly call it demeaning. If you think that’s humiliation, ask for volunteers and I bet you could fill a stadium with people all ready to be subjugated and demeaned.” Martin, herself a lawyer, went on to say that she is disturbed when groups such as WAVI use terms like rape in such an inaccurate way. “Rape is a serious crime, including acquaintance rape, and this kind of meaningless drivel detracts from a very real problem. Magic Moment is sexually suggestive, but there were clearly two active participants involved. To imply otherwise gives the unfortunate impression that women never say yes to passionate, tumultuous sex. I feel sorry for the members of WAVI, if they don’t know any better.”

Soundline Talking to…Nick Tzezna, on Sex Gun’s “Magic Moment” video, which features his main squeeze, Zanna Martin: “Look, I didn’t exactly enjoy watching Jeremy Kane licking his way around her, but I’m sure he feels the same about the fountain scene in “Gone,” and probably both of us were going “what the hell!” when we saw Zan and Matt (Wilder, from Jump Cut) in the “Life is Triage” video. But the fact is, rock music and sex go together and always have, and that’s reflected in videos as well as in the songs. Zanna has a very natural sensuality that comes across on film, and if you’re lucky enough to have her in your video, you’re going to make the most of it.” G

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Chapter 21

The second leg of the tour got off to a tense start. Zanna had retreated behind a wall of implacable politeness. It wasn’t only towards Jeremy, it was as though there was a gulf between her and the rest of the world. She was perfectly friendly; it was just you couldn’t connect with her, somehow. At least that was what Matt thought, and he had certainly tried. She was struggling with insomnia, not eating much, and still running every day. Once Jeremy realized that she did this both day and night, and most often by herself, he had Tanner acquire a treadmill as part of the tour equipment. It took a sharp confrontation between them, though, and the rest of Jump Cut’s siding with Jeremy, to get her to use it. The only person who seemed to break through to her was Nick, who was at the Toronto show and spent time with Zanna both before and after. She seemed more relaxed for that performance than she had in a long time. She returned from a post concert date with him, though, with disheveled hair, smeared lipstick, and her skirt twisted sideways, and naturally the first person she saw in the hotel lobby was Jeremy. He had no chance to comment, however, she swept by him and Arik with only a cool “Good night” although her cheeks were stained with telltale color. Jeremy himself wasn’t helping the tour ambience. He had so far managed to keep his temper in check, but the sense of tightly coiled energy that he often exuded was transformed by frustration and some anxiety into something almost dangerous. The way he moved, even the simplest gesture like a turn of his head, was invested with a kind of menace, the way a wild animal bears no animosity but still

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poses an inherent risk to those around it. It made his performances all the more effective, since he could unleash the force of his personality onstage with little inhibition, but otherwise he was an uncomfortable companion, to say the least. He was genuinely worried about Zanna. The way she dressed for concerts did little to camouflage her weight loss, and her eyes had dark circles permanently shadowing them these days. Her charmingly asymmetrical features were more sharply drawn, and when she wasn’t performing, she looked visibly weary. Jeremy also noticed that she and Matt appeared to be spending little time together, and he sought out the guitar player for an explanation. Being Jeremy, his approach was more direct than it was tactful. Finding Matt in the hotel coffee shop in Rochester, NY, Jeremy sat down without invitation and said abruptly, “What’s with you and Z?” This was one conversation Matt really did not want to have. But he was worried about her, too, and had had no luck in trying to get her to talk about it. “What’s with Z and anyone?” he countered. “She’s way stressed.” Jeremy frowned. “It’s like…oh, christ, I don’t know. Like something’s eating her up from inside, and I don’t get it.” At that moment, Matt almost told him about the impending demise of Jump Cut. But they’d agreed to keep it quiet, until they had a better handle on their strategy and at any rate, this was something Jeremy should hear from Zanna herself. So instead, Matt said carefully, “A lot’s happened to her in the past year or so, and I think most of it took her by surprise. Including you.” “We were doing okay, while you guys were still out in California. Better than okay, in fact.” His mouth was tight, as he said, “Was it that stupid crap about that girl, Ashley, that got her acting like I’m a leper?” “Didn’t help,” said Matt. “I never fucking touched her, and I never wanted to. Does Zanna think I was cheating on her?” Matt shrugged. “I don’t think she saw that as being the issue, Jeremy, although I can’t say she talked about it.” Jeremy sat back, spreading his arms across the back of the booth.

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“So what are we gonna do?” he said. “She’s going to cause some real damage to herself, the way she’s going. Have you noticed how fucking thin she is?” Matt raised an eyebrow. “We?” “I figure I’m stuck with you, where Zanna’s concerned,” said Jeremy impatiently. “You always seem to be in the picture.” He contemplated Matt, his aspect somewhat forbidding. Then he asked suddenly, “Something happen between you two?” Matt met the sharp, dark gaze with a level look. He said evenly, “That’s not your business, Jeremy.” The other man’s tension was a palpable thing, and as Jeremy stared at Matt broodingly, you could almost see him reach the inevitable conclusion. “Well, well,” he said softly. “You did warn me, didn’t you?” Great, thought Matt, just great. Aloud he said, “Look, Jeremy, this isn’t about me, okay? Whatever’s going on with Zanna, I am not what’s messing her up. Yes, our relationship’s gone through some changes, which is only natural, and which I’m not going to discuss with you. But she is not eating her heart out over me, I can promise you that.” He got up and said, “I’m worried about her, too, but I think she probably has to sort this thing out for herself.” Jeremy was silent for a moment. Then he looked up at Matt and said, “But she’s so fucking stubborn.” Matt nodded. “I know.”

It was in Baltimore that things came to a head. Zanna’s bandmates were relaxing in their dressing room several hours before showtime, when Jeremy came in. He looked around and said abruptly, “Where’s Zanna?” David answered from where he was lying on the floor, “Running.” He added, noting Jeremy’s somewhat ominous aspect, “Treadmill.” Pretty much everyone on the tour knew that Zan’s running addiction had been a bone of contention between them. Jeremy said incredulously, “Still?” and Andy answered, “She’s having a bad day.” Jeremy looked at Matt, who was stretched out on a couch reading, and said, “You don’t have a problem with this?” Matt glanced up at him, and said evenly, “Yeah, Jeremy, I do, but

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there’s only so far I can go. You think you can do better, be my guest.” “Z has very definite boundaries,” murmured David. “They’re about to get breached,” said Jeremy grimly, walking out. The rest of them looked at each other, and Matt swung his legs off the couch. “Someone’s going to have to pick up the pieces,” he said. “But whose?” asked Andy. “My money’s on Z,” said David. Matt said, “I wouldn’t be so sure, this time.” They followed in Jeremy’s wake to the backstage corner where the treadmill had been set up. A lot of other people were finding excuses to hang out here as well, noticed Matt –this had all the earmarks of a showdown. Johnny Deal wasn’t even making a pretense of discretion; he leaned against the wall, arms crossed, openly watching. Zanna was still going at a steady clip, headphones in place, tuning out the activity around her. To Matt’s experienced eyes, however, her stride was not as smooth as it should have been, and she was soaked in sweat. Jeremy stomped up to her and unceremoniously yanked off her headphones as he hit the red stop button on the treadmill. The computer read 11.7 miles, which somehow pissed him off. Zanna turned to look at him in indignation as the machine slowed. “What do you think you’re-” she began. “You’re done,” said Jeremy briefly. Zanna’s eyes narrowed, and she said, “That is not your call.” Jeremy lost his temper, which had already been pretty frayed. “It is my fucking business if the lead singer for our opening act is too fucking exhausted to stay on her feet onstage,” he yelled at her. Zanna said, in angry disbelief, “You’ve got a problem with my performance?” Jeremy snapped, “I’ve got a problem with your fucking self destructive behavior!” Disregarding what Matt, for one, knew to be a warning sign as her jaw tightened, Jeremy went on, “What have you had to eat today, anyway? How long did you sleep last night?” In a low, tight voice she replied, “Last time I checked, I was an

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adult and you were not my guardian.” “Well, you fucking well need one!” he said. “You are way out of line, Jeremy,” she said warningly. “Oh, fuck that! You gave up some of your cherished independence when you made the choice to sleep with me that first night, Zanna. These are the consequences, and you just have to deal with it.” His voice was harsh. “You think I’m real happy about this? You think I wanted to fall for a fucking anorexic exercise junkie with a commitment phobia? Well, I didn’t get to choose, and now, neither do you. For once you can take the fucking responsibility that comes with someone caring about you. You want to think you’re Planet Zanna in your own little universe, don’t you? Well, it doesn’t work that way. If you don’t care about me, try thinking about what your band goes through. You think they aren’t worried sick about this? You think they aren’t counting your fucking ribs and wondering at what point they have to get you to a hospital?” She was speechless, her eyes wide and blank, and Matt thought she was probably approaching white hot rage. Heedlessly, Jeremy plunged on. “Face it, Z, if what you want is to live disconnected from those around you, you fucked up big time, because you’re surrounded by people who give a damn. You can’t just go careening through life, turning on your magic and sucking us in, and think you can walk away any time you feel like it.” Matt knew an impulse to cheer. The loiterers were agog. Zanna was motionless, and she and Jeremy stared at each other wordlessly. Matt hoped he hadn’t pushed her too far; he was having visions of Zanna’s walking off the tour. Then, very deliberately, she turned back to the control panel of the treadmill, and hit the start button. She might have just intended to cool down, thought Matt, because she shouldn’t have stopped running so abruptly. And in fact, her legs had obviously stiffened up, she moved awkwardly as the belt started to roll, her left knee buckling under her weight. That was when Jeremy completely lost it. He wrapped an arm around her waist and hauled her forcibly off the treadmill. Matt heard her say “Damn you, let go of me” but Jeremy ignored this, and tossed her up in his arms, with no apparent effort.

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He made for the nearest dressing room, went through the door backwards, still carrying Zanna, and headed to the showers. Setting her on her feet, he kept an arm around her, both to stop her from falling if she was shaky, and to prevent escape if she wasn’t. He turned on the faucet, and held her under the stream of warm water. She knocked his arm away, and stumbled backwards. He caught her and inexorably dragged her back in with him. He could see her exhaustion in her face, in the way her legs trembled. She quit resisting then, and tilted her head back under the cascade of water, reaching up to pull the elastic tie off and loosen her hair. Her eyes were shut and she swayed slightly. His anger melted away as he looked at her, and he just felt sad. Jeremy knelt down and unlaced her running shoes. She rested a hand on his shoulder and stepped out of first one, then the other. He noticed the sock on one foot was bloodstained, and stripped it off to find that she had blood oozing from under several nails. With an effort, he kept silent. He stood up, soaking wet by now, and stripped off his waterlogged sweatshirt. He looked up to find her regarding him with some hostility. He could tell she was angry with him, but what he didn’t know was that his tirade had also plunged her into a state of emotional turmoil. She wasn’t used to being yelled at, and she certainly wasn’t used to someone using superior physical strength to overpower her. Combined with the involuntary arousal that he always seemed to trigger, her state of nervous exhaustion, the uncertain status of their relationship, and the unconsumated encounter while filming Magic Moment, it was overwhelming and Zanna was experiencing a sort of system overload. It was either break down, or go on the attack. In an abrupt movement, she pulled off her t-shirt and tossed it aside, then unzipped her shorts and kicked them out of the way. Jeremy stared. She said, “This is what you want, right?” Her tone was sharp. “You think because we once had sex that you have the right to shout at me, and order me around, and-” “Zanna, I’m sorry about how-” he started to say, but she wasn’t having any. She unhooked her sports bra and pulled it off, and

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Jeremy was transfixed. She was continuing, “You know what, I’d rather pay in kind, so let’s just do it.” He tried to say something then, but his vocal cords and mouth seemed to lack coordination, and it came out as a sort of strangled gasp as he took in her almost naked body. He knew this would be a really big mistake, that she was doing this for entirely the wrong reason…he dragged his eyes up to her face and met her mocking gaze. She said, “Come on, Jeremy, what’s the problem? Let’s go. I can’t promise nirvana, more like a fast fuck, actually-” He moved then. Her deliberately blunt choice of words triggered some kind of atavistic response, a rush of intense, physical desire that he didn’t try to resist. He caught her in his arms and kissed her so hard, he inadvertently cut her lip, and the taste of her blood was perversely exciting…all the suppressed longing of the past months was suddenly unleashed, even though he knew this was a bad idea, he couldn’t seem to stop…his hand slid down her back, and gripped her barely clad ass, fuck it was so small it practically fit in his one hand, damn he should stop, this wasn’t right, his hand went to her breast, god, she had such perfect breasts, okay, maybe this wasn’t such a bad thing, maybe it’d defrost some of the ice between them….he bent his head and kissed her breasts, all over, oh god, he wanted her. He unzipped his jeans with one hand, his mouth still roaming her wet, bare skin, tasting her, tasting- Blood. Again. He stopped abruptly, confused. Christ, had he just bitten her, without knowing it? Oh fuck…he drew back, holding her by the waist, looking for the damage, found it. Along her ribs were several bloody abrasions. Uncomprehending, but pretty sure he hadn’t done that, he looked up to meet her eyes. “Christ, Zanna, how the hell did that happen?” Her voice was indifferent. “It’s just friction, from the sportsbra.” He stared at her incredulously, and the hot sexual surge was replaced by something else entirely. He couldn’t believe the punishment she’d evidently inflicted on her own body. He saw how very thin she was – she had been slender since he’d known her, but this was beyond that. He looked at her bleeding feet, and the contusions under her breasts, and felt a kind of horrified

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helplessness. What the fuck was she doing to herself? He said, “Zanna, you can’t keep on like this.” She turned her back on him, bracing one arm against the wall as she dropped her head forward and let the water beat down on her back and shoulders. Jeremy had a sudden sense of déjà vu, only he had been the one turning his back, and it was Arik saying “It’s not just yourself you’re destroying, you know,” and it hadn’t been bloody ribs, but the tracks on his forearm that spawned that particular conversation. What goes around, comes around, he thought. The irony wasn’t lost on him, but he still didn’t know how to get through to her. Jeremy reached out and turned off the water, and pulled her gently into his arms. Her head was down, wet hair curtaining her face. Softly, he said, “Zanna, would you please talk to me?”

Arik and Daniel, arriving at the facility for the soundcheck, were surprised at the number of people milling around backstage. The group included most of Jump Cut, their crew, their tour manager Spike, Tanner, most of Sex Gun’s tech crew, and Johnny Deal. “What’s going on?’ asked Daniel, looking around. Arik noticed something. “Where are Jeremy and Zanna?” People looked at each other, and shifted uneasily. No one was in a hurry to answer. It was very weird, thought Arik. Andy finally said, “Matter of fact, our respective lead singers are in the shower.” Arik’s eyebrows shot up. “What, together?” Johnny said, “Just to make it even more interesting, when last seen, they were on the worst of terms.” Daniel asked, “What happened?” Andy answered “Jeremy took exception to Z’s running.” Arik said, “She is a bit obsessive.” David took up the story. “So he has a tantrum and starts yelling at her-” “And she goes quietly furious and starts running again,” put in Andy. “At which point,” Johnny finished, “Jeremy picked her up and headed for the dressing room. And while we haven’t heard any

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sounds of mayhem, no one has really wanted to investigate.” Arik saw his point. On the other hand – “We’ve got a sound check.” “It’s a problem,” agreed Johnny. Daniel looked at Tanner and Spike. “You’re the tour managers. Isn’t getting everyone onstage for the sound check part of your jobs?” Tanner said, “I’m not going in there,” and Spike concurred. “Your lead singer’s got a vile temper,” he said. “And ours is a girl, which makes barging in on her in the shower potentially awkward, to say the least.” Arik said to Matt, “What about you?” Matt said, “I am so fucking sick of everyone thinking I should always do the dirty work.” David told him, “We don’t, really. It’s just that Z would forgive you anything, and even Jeremy seems marginally fond of you, so you’re the person least likely to suffer grievous bodily harm, should you be interrupting anything.” Matt was just starting to reply, when the dressing room door opened, and Jeremy, wearing only a towel around his waist, stepped out and looked at the assemblage in amazement. “What the fuck are you doing?” he said. Fortunately, he didn’t seem to expect an answer. He said to Matt, “Could you find Z something dry to put on?” Matt rolled his eyes. “See what I mean?” he asked of no one in particular. But he got up and went to look for where Zanna had left her bag. Jeremy, looking after him, said, “What’s his problem?” but no one answered him. Jeremy shrugged and turned back into the dressing room.

Zanna, wrapped up in towels, was lying on the bench, eyes closed. She was so tired, she didn’t want to move. She was certainly too weary to fight with Jeremy. It felt like her life was unraveling and she couldn’t do a damn thing about it. She was hurting, and vulnerable, and she hated it. He came back then, and took a seat on the bench, looking down at her. He smoothed her wet hair back from her face, and his touch

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was gentle. “Hey.” His voice was quiet, and concerned. “Mmm.” “I think it’s about time we got some things straightened out between us,” he said. She didn’t respond, except to curl into an even smaller huddle. He continued, “We can do better than this, Zanna.” “How?” The monosyllable wasn’t much, but he was encouraged, nonetheless. “Tell me this, Z. Do you want me to just get out of your life, and leave you alone?” There. He’d said it. He was almost holding his breath, waiting for her answer. “No-oo.” Whew. “Okay, then,” he said. “Let’s figure out what we need to do to make it work more smoothly, huh?” He added, “If not for us, at least for our bands. This has been hard on everyone, you know.” She sat up. “It would help if you didn’t yell at me.” “Yeah. I’m sorry, I was out of line. I mean, with how I did it. I still think I’m right as far as the content goes.” He put his arm around her, felt her stiffen. She said, “Not exactly. I’ve been okay onstage, and you know it. Whatever problems I’ve been having, they haven’t affected my performance.” He admitted, “You’re incredible onstage. Jump Cut’s the best opening act we’ve ever had.” She looked up at him uncertainly. He smiled at her. “I mean that. You’ve got an excellent band, Z, and you’re one of the most talented people I’ve ever worked with.” He saw her lip quiver, and her eyes dropped again. He wondered what he had said wrong. But then she leaned against him, fitting herself into the curve of his arm, so he went on. “But you need to realize that it’s not just you, here. Everyone is affected by what you’re doing.” Jeremy hesitated, because he knew the next part was risky. “Your situation isn’t so different from what I did to my friends when I was using. I had the same attitude you do: fuck ‘em, it’s my life. But that’s just not realistic, Zanna. That’s what I was trying to say, before.” She said, into his shoulder, “Just what is it you want me to do?” Carefully he said, “Would you see a doctor?” “No.” She said it flatly, adding dryly, “And as far as I know they

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don’t have Runner’s Rehab. And I wouldn’t go if they did. Sometimes it’s the only thing that keeps me from going completely nuts.” Jeremy sighed. He had a feeling he wasn’t the best person to be doing this. He’d never even read any of those fucking self- improvement psychobabble books. On the other hand, he seemed to be all she had. She’d sufficiently intimidated everyone else into staying hands off…okay, once more into the breach, he thought. “Maybe you could cut down a little? So, at least you aren’t bleeding?” “I guess.” She said it ungracefully, but it was something, he supposed. “Could you try and eat more?” he asked. She appeared to think it over. “I could probably do that,” she said. “Okay, that would be good.” He paused. “This one might be harder,” he warned. “Think you could let people show their concern, and not just blow them off, or slap them down?” “I…I’ll try, all right?” Then she said, “My turn. You don’t get to be so damned dictatorial. I mean, I know at the moment I’m basically working for you, or for Sex Gun anyway, but you could still try asking, instead of being so bossy.” Jeremy was genuinely taken back at that. “Christ, Z, I never meant it like that! “ “I know. You’re just naturally arrogant.” She smiled though, to take the sting out of her words. “I’ll work on it, okay? You let me know if I’m being like that. I don’t think I know I’m doing it, sometimes.” He rubbed her bare shoulder, and said tentatively, “Do you think maybe we could try and be friends?” There was some surprise in her look. He saw it, and said, “I realize you’ve got some…issues, that you don’t want to talk about, not with me anyway, although I wish you would. But even if we’re not- well, not going to be lovers, I’d still like to…oh fuck, I don’t know. Get to know each other better? Or at least for you to stop avoiding me like I’ve got the plague.” She was smiling a little, and she said demurely, “Well, you did just turn me down, after all, so you can’t say I never-” She broke off, laughing, as he grabbed her and pulled her onto his lap.

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They were never going to know what might have happened next, because there was a loud banging on the door, and Matt’s voice said, “Here’s your stuff, Zanna.” She untangled herself from Jeremy, adjusted the slipping towel, and went to the door. Jeremy heard their voices, low and somehow intimate, and not for the first time envied Matt his close rapport with Zanna. He got up with an inward sigh, and went to the door. Opening it wider, he told them both, “I’ve got to get ready for the sound check. I’ll see you later.” Still clad only in the towel, he headed off towards Sex Gun’s dressing room. Zanna turned to Matt, who touched a finger to her bruised and cut lip, and said in a very neutral tone, “Jeremy do this?” “Not like that,” she said. Matt’s expression stayed carefully noncommittal. She said shortly, “Don’t give me that look. Nothing happened.” Matt raised an eyebrow, and retorted, “Zanna, the two of you are both wet and naked; obviously something happened.” She grinned, unwillingly. “Not much,” she said. “In fact, he turned me down.” She took her duffel bag from him and ducked behind a partition. Matt raised both eyebrows. “Well, I always knew Jeremy was somewhat crazy,” he drawled. “But I didn’t think he was actually deranged.” “I didn’t think he had that much willpower,” admitted Zanna honestly. “I guess blood’s a turn off.” Her voice was muffled as she pulled her shirt on. Matt thought that one over, didn’t get it. “You mean your lip, or a ‘Purple Stain’ thing?” he asked finally, although personally he wouldn’t have expected that to slow Jeremy down for a second. She emerged, dressed in jeans and a sweater. “Not that,” she said. “This.” She lifted up her top to show him the abrasions. “For chrissakes, Z, I don’t blame him!” Matt took a closer look, made a face. “Those are nasty.” He straightened, put his hands on her shoulders, and said, “You know, while I can’t say much for his delivery, I agreed with most of what Jeremy said out there.” She sighed. “I guess I have to take it seriously then.” “Good.” Matt squeezed her shoulders gently, and she put her

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arms around him, and they held each other for a moment. She said wistfully, “Life used to be a lot less complicated.” “But not nearly as interesting,” Matt reminded her, and was glad to hear her laugh. He said, “Let’s go get something to eat. If you’re turning over a new leaf, there’s no time like the present.”

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Chapter 22

To: Jill From: Arik Re: 2d leg of the tour

Well, I’d have to say things are definitely going better since the break. Our ongoing soap opera appears to be on hiatus. Stay tuned, folks… The first leg was very uptight, at least offstage, I think the shows went well. But there was a lot of tension between Jeremy and Zanna, which affected everyone. She was definitely keeping him at arms length and it drove him nuts. Then Adam Leskar was at the last show, which did not improve Jeremy’s temper at all. And Zanna and Matt Wilder generally come across like incestuous siblings, although that doesn’t seem to bother him as much, for some reason. On the break, we did the video for “Magic Moment”- well, I guess everyone knows how that went. Jeremy was pretty much out of control, but to be honest, Zanna herself didn’t seem too collected either. Anyway, things looked like going from bad to really shitty when we started this leg. Z still distant, Jeremy pissed off about Nick Tzezna (who was at the Toronto show, and obviously getting a lot further with Zanna than Jeremy has been), not exactly thrilled with Matt, worried about Zanna herself. He thinks she’s anorexic – and I have to say, she is very thin. They finally had some kind of blowup in Baltimore, which seemed to clear the air. Now they’re working together

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again – you should hear some of the stuff they’re doing, it’s remarkably good. It’s too bad they can’t get along that well on other levels. But everyone’s more cheerful these days, and the shows have been full of positive energy. Zanna Martin may be a pain in the ass in that she drives Jeremy insane, but that girl can rock! All for now. Miss you.

To: Arik From: Jill

…..and how goes the soap opera? Jeremy getting anywhere with Zanna yet? And may I say, I think it’s unfair to blame her for driving him nuts, Jeremy’s always been half crazy at the best of times. And you can see why she’d hesitate to get involved with him, any sane woman would think twice about it. I’m sure the Ashley thing didn’t help either. Your shows are certainly getting great reviews! A lot of people are impressed with Jump Cut, as well – and Zanna herself is getting a lot of attention. Major topic is who she’s sleeping with, poor girl. Btw, is there something between her and Kelly Ross??? Work is going fine, thanks, and I’m hoping to be in town when you get back from Europe…

…..You know there was NOTHING to the Ashley thing, it was all on her side, he barely had anything to do with her. And what about Kelly Ross?

Gossip on the net, that Kelly is Zanna’s latest conquest. Near as I can tell, it started with him saying in an interview with Melody Maker that she was “delicious.”

I hope it’s bs, because Jeremy’s having a hard enough time with her as it is (no pun intended). It would be funny, if it 218

wasn’t so worrying (Jeremy not being the most stable of individuals). I’ve never seen him put this much effort into anything. It’s been tough for him, though, and he’s having to learn a lot of relationship stuff the hard way - he fucks up, she backs off, he starts over… We finish up this week with a radio sponsored thing with a bunch of other bands in Philly. Not our favorite kind of gig, and I suspect Jeremy’s motivation in agreeing to it (and dragging us along with him) was mostly to get Jump Cut the exposure (it’s being broadcast by RockNet). He badly wants them on the BDO tour. I think he’s counting on summer in the Southern Hemisphere to work some magic..

Jeremy’s right, Down Under is great strategy in his campaign to win over Zanna. Jeremy the surfer is an easier person to get along with than Jeremy the rock star. Plus his surfing is so beautiful to watch, how could she possibly resist…

To: Jill From: Arik

…We all had a great time last night. We were in a college town in Pa somewhere, and went out after the show, to a club that had a live band – part swing, part oldies, part bizarro funkpunk. Danced our asses off. Zanna didn’t even bother to go running today. She had to dance with all of us, being almost the only girl in our group. (That reminds me - I noticed recently that we don't have any female crew members. Do you think that's weird? Jump Cut has several, but they mostly look at us as if we had horns and tails, not conducive to asking them to dance). Only Jeremy and Matt got to do the slow dances, though. Jeremy looked like he could die happy when they played “Stand by Me.” There’s been an excellent feel to this last part of the tour. Jump Cut synchs with us really well – very easy and friendly, and a nice camaraderie that I don’t remember happening before with another band. We’ve all been jamming in various 219

combinations – I caught Daniel teaching Zanna the rhythm parts to “Take It” which we’ve never done live because it needs two guitars, and Jeremy says he’d screw it up. I suspect Dan of having designs on her for BDO – he’s always wanted to do that song live, he loves the leads. It's like what I would imagine college is like, or maybe summer camp (not that I did anything that wholesome in my formative years) – we’re in and out of each other’s rooms, riding on each other’s buses (JC razz us constantly about what they refer to as our deluxe travel arrangements, they call us pampered rock stars, as well as several ruder things). They like to explore places that we stop in, and there’s always some restaurant they want to try. Touring is still new to them, and it’s refreshing – they have a lot of enthusiasm, and it seems to be rubbing off on us, jaded old souls that we are. Too bad we can’t take them along to Europe, I bet they’d be a riot over there…

Sex Gun fan site, Message Board

Posting: brianna Subject: an UNBELIEVABLE night!!!! Message: I'm just back from our big night out, it's four am and I'm way too excited to sleep! As most of you know, Sex Gun played here tonight, and it was just the greatest experience ever!! I'll post the setlist and details on the concert later, but here's the quickie version: Jump Cut opened, and they are really good live. Both Zanna and Matt sounded great, and they did that tango thing, it's wild, you can't believe they can move that close and not bang their guitars into each other. She was wearing a Penn State t-shirt, cut out as usual, and she took it off at the end of the show and tossed it into the crowd (wonder if she picked that up from Jeremy??) all the guys around us (me, my best friends Heather and Jean) were drooling over her as usual. Then Sex Gun came on, and - what can you say? They are just the greatest of all time. They looked awesomely beautiful (no shirts, although they did keep their pants on, bummer) They opened with "hurricane" and 220

did lots of new stuff, and some of the older ones like Body Language and Come Hard too. They seemed to be in a really good mood, they were laughing and talking a lot, and Jeremy did a back flip at the end of Shutdown. We were kind of wondering if Zanna would do If I Could with them like she did at Oceans, but she didn't come out again. They did Miss You and Down and In for the encore. But believe it or not, the best was yet to come! Because after the concert we went to an after hours club called Gaby's, which has a live band on weekends. And after a while, who walks in but just about everyone from SG and Jump Cut, including a lot of their crew people. We couldn't believe it!! Arik Jones stood right next to me at the bar, and gave me this really nice smile and said hi. People were being pretty cool about leaving them alone, no asking for autographs, although don't think we weren't tempted! Johnny and SG's tour manager both were really friendly, and talking to people, but Jeremy was only paying attention to Zanna. Anyway, they all seemed to want to relax and have fun. Daniel and the Jump Cut bass player were playing pool, but most of the others were dancing. It was so funny to see them, like that, like real people, not on stage or on TV. Zanna looks different offstage, not quite as tough - she was wearing a darling outfit, black and gold velvet top and miniskirt, and had her hair down. She was dancing with all of them, and as you'd expect, she and Matt are like watching pros, they were doing swing and he was really tossing her around! But the best part was when the band played a slow song, and she was dancing with Jeremy (who, let me tell you, is even better looking up close and personal! than in the videos) they were dancing VERY close, and about halfway through the song, he started kissing her, and didn't stop! Anyway, we were trying to be cool and not stare too obviously but they were totally making out, and I noticed Matt was also looking away from them, sort of like he was trying not to mind - and that's when the really wild thing happened, because he looked right at us, and smiled (oh god, is he beautiful!) and CAME OVER and asked Jean to dance!!!! Now Jean is a pretty girl, I think, but she isn't flashy, or the type most guys would say is a hot babe. I thought it was really cool of him to ask her, and not one of the sorority sluts who'd been giving him the eye. They danced a couple of songs, and then he hung out with us for a while. He is SO nice, and really cute. We asked him about his tattoos, and he did say that the lightening bolt thing on his wrist is a Z, and it does stand for Zanna,

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but he said he got it because she's his best friend and it was nice to be reminded of that. So it doesn't sound to me like they've got a thing going…and definitely Jeremy does! Anyway, gotta go to bed now, but just had to share it with you all!

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Chapter 23

They got to Philadelphia after an overnight bus ride, and everyone was tired and disoriented. The weather was gray, and intermittent sleet was coming down. Members from both groups, looking rather squalid and uncombed, stumbled off the buses outside the concert venue. Several took one look and elected to get more sleep. Zanna thought about it for a minute, and with some regret decided it wouldn’t happen anyway. She sighed, she seemed chronically short of rest these days. Next to her, Matt said, “What do you think, Z? What’s in Philly besides that bell?” Zan reflected. “Reading Market, South Street. A really good used bookstore.” Andy, overhearing, said, “Cheese steak.” “Not for breakfast,” objected Matt. Jeremy came up. “This is uninspiring. What are you guys going to do?” No one had any great ideas. Frank, the press officer, said to the group, “At ten, at least one of you from each band needs to talk to Spin. And RockNet wants a few minutes but they’re not picky about when.” “Quarter,” said Daniel. “And there’s a call-in to the morning show of the sponsoring radio station-” “That’s just Sex Gun, right?” asked Zanna, who disliked both interviews and phones anyway. “No, sorry Zan, this is all Jump Cut as well,” he told her. He waited expectantly. The band members looked singularly 223

unenthusiastic. Andy said briskly, “Right, eight of us, so if you take one from each band, two people get a bye this round.” Frank said apologetically, “Not Jeremy or Zanna, however.” Jeremy, uncommonly cooperative, said, “Okay, Frank, where do you want us?” “I’d like both of you for Spin, and either of you for RockNet.” Zanna objected, “I wouldn’t let Jeremy near Spin, personally. They hate him.” “Come again?” said Jeremy, raising an eyebrow quizzically. “They’re always snotty about you, haven’t you noticed? Last time they referred to you as an oversexed surfjock with poor impulse control.” “Wait until they see Magic Moment,” remarked Johnny. “That’s not so bad, he’s been called much worse,” said Daniel. Jeremy said to her, “I didn’t know you cared.” Frank said, “It’s okay this time, it’s Michael Perry, he’s more balanced. It’s that female reporter who doesn’t like him.” Zanna said to Jeremy, “Well, since we’re touring with you, it’s a case of guilt by association.” He grinned at her, and said, “Oh, c’mon, Z. Let’s do it together. That way you can smack me right away if I say something you don’t like.” She crossed her arms, and gave him a stern look. “No anatomical references this time.” Frank added, “And keep your clothes on.” Zanna said moodily, “I think we should just refuse to talk about our personal lives,” and Frank told her, “That never works.” Jeremy said, “Let’s figure it out over breakfast” as it started to sleet again. Zanna said crossly, “I’m going back to bed.” Jeremy said agreeably, “Works for me,” and followed her back onto the Jump Cut bus. Frank sighed, and told the others to flip for the call- in. Jeremy and Matt could do RockNet later, if Zanna was still in a bad mood. On the bus, Zanna kicked off her unlaced boots and lay face down. Jeremy regarded her for a moment, then said “Move over,” and was pleasantly surprised when she did. Stuffing a pillow behind his head, he stretched out comfortably alongside her prone form. “What’s up, Z?” he asked. “Not like you

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to be so negative.” She raised herself up on her elbows, and said, “What are you doing here, anyway? Go sleep on your own bus.” “But this is so much nicer,” he said cheerfully. He put his hands under her arms and pulled her up on his chest. She crossed her arms, and rested her chin on them, regarding him pensively. “I hate those interviews,” she said. “All they ever want to know is who I’m sleeping with.” Don’t we all, thought Jeremy, but he said with a grin, “Let’s tell them we got married in Vegas last weekend.” That got a reluctant smile. “Tempting,” she conceded. “We could even do it,” he offered, just to see her predictably horrified look. “I’d rather be nibbled to death by ducks,” she told him. She added, “Nothing against you personally, it’s marriage in general I object to.” “Why?” She said, “Well, on philosophical grounds, it’s basically a function of either church or state, and I don’t think either one has a place in my personal relationships. On personal grounds, because it sucks my soul dry.” He said, surprised, “Were you married?” She turned sideways, and he shifted so his arm was around her, and her head was on his shoulder. It was a long moment before she said, “Yes. A long time ago. In the spirit of trying anything once.” “And it was that bad?” “It was.” She went on, “But it served a purpose, I suppose, because I learned that I’m way too solitary a person to live with someone and have it work.” He said curiously, “Is touring driving you crazy? You don’t get much privacy here, either.” “Sometimes it’s difficult, yes.” “That why you want me to go get on my own bus?” She raised her head to look at him. “I don’t, really. I was just being nasty. This is kind of cozy.” They lay in companionable silence for a few minutes, relaxed and comfortable. Then Jeremy said, “Can I ask you something personal , Z?”

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She said dubiously, “Well, you can ask.” “I realize I have no right to know, but….are you and Matt lovers?” He felt her go very still. Then she said, “Depends on what you mean.” Jeremy thought it was pretty obvious, himself, but didn’t care to spell it out. She said thoughtfully, “Do we love each other – yes, I’d say so. Definitely. If you mean, do we have sex regularly, then no.” How about ever, he thought. “On the other hand, it’s not exactly platonic, either.” She hesitated. “Most of the time, we’re somewhere in between ‘just friends’ and lovers. It works for us, although sometimes it’s a little problematic.” Which was an adroit nonanswer, he thought, but only said, “How’s that?” “It can play havoc with other relationships,” she admitted. “Not really an issue for me, but some of Matt’s girls had trouble with it.” Jeremy could well believe it. “Does Nick?” he asked. “Don’t know. He’s never said anything to me.” “Smart of him,” said Jeremy dryly. “Maybe. On the other hand, he had plenty to say about you,” she said, somewhat ruefully. “Yeah? Like what?” Jeremy sounded pleased. “The usual. What everyone says to me about you.” Startled, Jeremy said, “Everyone?” “Uh huh. Stay away from him, he’s trouble. He’s an addict, he’s violent, he’s a slut,” she recited. “He’s dangerous, he’s unstable.” “God. Really?” “Oh yeah. You wouldn’t believe how many people have made a point of warning me off you.” She hooked her leg comfortably over his, nestling closely against his side. Jeremy said slowly, “That description might have been accurate once, but – “ “You can tell how seriously I take it.” “Not really,” he said. “Given that you’ve made a policy of avoiding me most of the time I’ve known you.” “Not lately,” she pointed out.

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“Yeah, okay,” he acknowledged. Then referring back to the previous point, “But Zanna, you know I would never hurt you?” “I know. If you mean that in a physical sense. I think you could do a lot of damage the other way.” He said, “If this has to do with that stupid shit about Ashley Laughton-” “Jeremy, I don’t want to-” “Z, will you shut up and please listen? I never did anything with her. To her. Whatever. Never wanted to, never-” “This is none of my business-” “Yes, it is! Because you need to know that I meant what I said, when I lost my temper with VH1at the Oceans show. And it’s as true now as it was then.” Silence. He switched back to the earlier topic. “Feel free to tell me to fuck off, but why didn’t it happen between you and Matt? Because of the age difference?” “More of a difference in where we’re at,” she said slowly. “ I’ve already, trial and error, ruled out most versions of male/ female relationships. Matt’s got a wise old soul for being only twenty five, but still, he hasn’t had the time to really know what his options are. With me, well, there aren’t many. I’m like a one way street with a dead end, even if it’s a good time getting there. And if we were lovers, he’d be closing himself off to other possibilities without even knowing what he was giving up.” “Isn’t that happening anyway?” “Maybe a little, but circumstance will resolve it.” Jeremy wondered what she meant by that, but he had something more pressing on his mind. “So you’ve ruled out Matt, but – you said at Oceans- you haven’t ruled out me?” “Mmm. That’s one thing I don’t have to worry about, with you.” “Meaning?” “I don’t have to worry if I’d prevent you from having something good with someone else. You’re not going to: you’re about as much of a dead end as I am,” she said bluntly. Jeremy grinned at this assessment of his character. “Did you ever want to settle down, have kids, all of that?” he asked. “Nope. I have absolutely no biological clock whatsoever. And I

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made sure it wouldn’t happen by accident, as soon as I had decent health insurance.” He laughed softly. “God, that’s funny. Me, too.” She raised her head and looked at him. “Really?” He nodded. “How old were you?” he asked. “Twenty four. You?” “Twenty two.” She said, “Did you ever want the family thing?” She saw something change in his expression, a closing off, as if blinds were being drawn across all emotion. Concerned, she said “Hey. What?” “Nothing.” He turned his head away from her. She put her palm against his cheek and made him face her once again. She told him, “If we’re ever going to have this happen, you might want to practice not doing that. Shutting me out that way.” “Well, look who’s talking.” “I know, it’s not my strong point either. But you know I’ve been trying.” He was silent, head back, staring upwards. Then, with an effort, he said, “You’re right. Okay.” He looked at her, and said evenly, “I never wanted kids because I hated being one. What you said in that MTV interview, about how guys in bands are often relationship challenged? I don’t know if you were referring to me, or Anthony, or all of us collectively, but you were dead right. Growing up, I didn’t learn the first thing about how to relate to people emotionally. I learned how to tie off a vein. How to duck, and later, how to fight back. Things like trust, and love, and caring for people? I learned fuck all about that. The band was the first I knew about what it’s like to have people act like you mean something to them.” He rolled on his side, leaning on one elbow, his head on his fist, as he looked down at her. “And I don’t want your pity,” he said. “That’s not why I’m telling you this.” “Okay,” she said gently. “Why?” “Because I know I’m bad at it, this relationship stuff. I know I keep screwing up. But I want you to know it’s not for lack of caring about it, or wanting it, or trying.” Her look was almost tender. “You’re not so bad at it, Jeremy. You’ve been honest with me, anyway, and that’s saying a lot. You come right down to it, we’re both kind of a mess, albeit for different

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reasons.” She reflected for a moment, and went on, “Which isn’t altogether a bad thing.” “It’s not?” He didn’t follow her logic. “Look at it this way. If we ever do end up together, at least we can know we aren’t screwing up some perfectly nice, normal person.” He laughed at that, looking down at her. She was lying on her back, arms crossed behind her head. He touched her hair, liking the soft, silky feel of it. He told her, “Arik figures we’d make a good pair because we’re both half crazy. So between us you get one whole sane person.” Zanna said thoughtfully, “Of course, that means you also get one whole raving lunatic.” They exchanged a smile. It was at moments like this, when she sounded as though they would be together eventually, that he felt as content with life as he ever had. He still wondered what kept things from moving more quickly, but he was afraid to ask. For now, it was enough that they had this odd sort of friendship. That he could, at times like this, be close to her. And to think people said he had no fucking self control.

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Chapter 24

So Happy Together? Sex Gun's Jeremy Kane and Zanna Martin of Jump Cut share breakfast and more as their bands tour the east coast.

By Michael Perry

Like their bands, the lead singers of Sex Gun and Jump Cut present an interesting study in compare and contrast. Sex Gun might be said to be at the height of their fifteen plus year career; Jump Cut is just starting. Both bands are labeled alternative rock, and feature edgy, distinctive music with interesting lyrics, and exciting live performances. But while Sex Gun's story is a chaotic tale of ups and downs, of talent often derailed by trouble, Jump Cut's seems devoid of personal angst. The members of Sex Gun are well known for reckless misbehavior, while those of Jump Cut appear remarkably well adjusted for a rock band. And at first glance, Jeremy Kane and Zanna Martin would appear to have little in common. He's the high school dropout who formed his band while in his teens; she's the lawyer cum college professor who picked up a guitar for the first time less than two years ago. Although close in age (he's 36, she's 34) Jeremy is a veteran of the rock scene, and Zanna a neophyte. He has a long history of trouble with the law; she used to defend people like him. He's been an on and off junkie for all of his adult life; she's as straight as they come. Even in physical appearance, they present a marked contrast: he's solidly muscular and dark, she's a slender, small boned blonde. But look closer and the similarities are there. They share a certain quickness of intellect, a sense of humor and reportedly, a hot temper. Both have an energized and sexually charged stage presence, and both have amazing talent when it comes to writing 230

and performing music. They arrive together at the appointed rendezvous, a cafe near the venue where they'll play tonight. He looks like he just woke up; she’s brimming with energy. Her offstage persona is markedly different from that of Jump Cut’s lead singer. She dresses down for performances, but in civvies she favors a kind of funky chic. This morning she’s wearing a short teal knit dress with black fringe along the hem. She never wears more than minimal make up, and she looks fantastic. Jeremy wears his usual jeans and a black sweatshirt, and looks sleepy. Zanna slides into the booth first, with Jeremy following. When they’re in one another’s company, he tends to stay physically close to her, and now he’s sitting shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh, right against her. It doesn’t appear to bother her; if anything, she takes it for granted. She generally seems comfortable with a high level of physicality from the men in her life – Jump Cut are all casually affectionate with each other, and she and Matt Wilder in particular hug, kiss, hold hands and frequently wrap themselves around each other. Woe to strangers who get overly familiar though – she backhanded a too forward fan at a California show, who made the mistake of trying to touch. She orders a mango banana smoothie for breakfast, and Jeremy frowns. There have been persistent rumors that Martin suffers from anorexia, although she is dismissive. “It’s a byproduct of being on tour,” she says. “I lose my appetite, and forget to eat occasionally. When I’m at home, it’s not an issue – I like to cook, and I like to eat out, when I don’t have to all the time. Being on the road, though, you’re on this weird schedule, and you get out of synch.” She pauses, shooting Jeremy a sideways look, and says dryly “Fortunately I have a lot of people to nag me and keep me healthy.” “So eat something,” he growls. “I’ll split something with you,” she offers. They confer over the menu, and decide on blueberry pancakes. Zanna looks up with a grin. “It’s called compromise,” she says. “We’ve been working on it.” It’s not clear to what degree their relationship is personal versus professional, even to them. Jeremy, having downed a mug of coffee and now showing signs of life, admits, “It’s been kind of hard to sort out. We decided a while back that it was important to both of us to be able to write together, and I guess other things got put on hold.” Zanna says nothing.

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But isn’t it true that he had already, rather publicly, made his feelings known? He sighs, and says, “Well, yeah, discretion hasn’t been my strong suit. And I meant everything I said, and still do, but a lot of it was taken out of context, okay? And anyway, despite all that, the fact is, music has defined most of the time we’ve spent together. When we’re in each other’s company, including this tour, we’re usually working on something. Creatively, it’s been really productive.” “It’s been great,” affirms Zanna buoyantly, evidently more comfortable with this topic. “For me, it’s been a real learning experience. As a guitar player, I’m more of a mimic than a musician. But I’ve picked up a lot, just from being around both Jeremy and Daniel.” “You’re better than you think you are,” Jeremy tells her. “Even if you don’t know the names of chords.” He says “She has a tendency to say things like ‘that should be da-da-da’ when we’re writing, but it works, in the end.” Touring with Jump Cut has been a different experience for Sex Gun. “We don’t often hang out with other bands much,” he admits. “But this time, Z and I have been working together a lot, all of us have played in different combinations, and it’s resulted in a very loose, informal atmosphere. It’s been-” he pauses, searching for the right term. He settles on “ – fun.” He says this as though it’s not a word he’s used much, rather like it’s a slightly alien concept to him. Zanna smiles a little, and leans sideways into him. He turns his head to look at her, smiles back. There is genuine affection between these two, which seems to belie the rumors that their relationship is built on stormy sexual attraction, characterized by tension and outright violence. Zanna’s eyes widen incredulously when this is mentioned. “Violence?” she says. “Why would anyone say that? That’s ridiculous!” She’s visibly upset. Jeremy looks somewhat resigned; he’s stood accused on many an occasion, although admittedly not with regard to women. But there was the incident before Sex Gun’s San Francisco show, when Jeremy appeared to rather forcibly kiss her, and she slapped him, and something about handcuffs at the Oceans benefit. It’s also been suggested that he was, in effect, stalking her for a time. “That is such – rot!” fumes Zanna. “It’s true that I did slap him that one time, and he was out of line and knew it, but

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sheesh! Calling him a stalker is absurd! I have never, ever, been the least bit afraid of, or intimidated by, Jeremy Kane. That’s just stupid.” Jeremy looks rather gratified by this. She goes on “I think it’s a big mistake for outsiders to try and judge very personal interactions between two people. How we relate to each other doesn’t fit into any neatly labeled pigeonhole that people can recognize easily, and they seem to resent that. He’s not my boyfriend, buddy, or brother. We are never going to get married and breed and live in the slurbs. We’re both strong willed persons, and sometimes that creates conflict, but people make it sound like we’re carrying on some weird sadomasochistic relationship, and that’s total crap.” She adds, “The handcuff thing is an inside joke, so don’t ask.” Jeremy looks downright cheerful as the food arrives. He says to her, “Butter? Maple syrup?” and at her nod, slathers the pancakes in both. He takes a bite, nods approvingly, spears another and holds out the fork in Zanna’s direction. She tries it, says “yum” and picks up her own fork. They proceed to dispatch pancakes and bacon rapidly, and Zanna helps herself to a sip of his coffee. Jeremy says affably, “You forgot the phone number incident. She assaulted me there, you know. Don’t tell me that one didn’t get out?” Encouraged to put it on the record, he tells the story with a gleam of amusement in his dark eyes. “This was after MusicTown published the interview clip with me, where they took some things out of context and made it sound like I was gratuitously shooting my mouth off about sleeping with Zanna,” he begins. Ah, the nirvana interview. Zanna snorts, and Jeremy nods. “Exactly. Anyway, she was really mad at me, because she had no way of knowing that it was from a long interview, months earlier, I’d never given her name, and they’d edited out the real point of it – I was talking about this really beautiful thing, finding someone you can connect with instantly and how surprising and special that is. They just made me sound like a sex obsessed junkie. I hadn’t been able to reach her to explain, and she was getting a lot of flak over it. “So we’re both playing in Seattle that weekend, and Zanna stops by before the concert to chew me out. I tried telling her that I would have warned her about it, but I didn’t have her phone number, and she grabs the marker I’d been writing the

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set list with, and proceeds to scrawl her phone number all over me. Up my arm, across my chest, down my middle – and it was in indelible ink!” He grins. “It took days to get that stuff off, and in the meantime I had to wear long sleeved shirts for the next few shows, because you just knew a bunch of people would try calling the number if they saw it. It started a lot of rumors though, including one that I was using again and covering up tracks.” Zanna says “You never told me that. About the ink.” He tells her “Never came up.” They exchange a look. This wordless communication has become typical of them. Later in the day, killing time before their shows, the two are hanging out in Sex Gun's large and comfortably furnished dressing room at the arena, working on new material together. They sit cross- legged on the floor, close enough that their legs touch and at times, leaning into each other, their foreheads, a sort of songwriting by osmosis. Around them, other band members are doing their thing, support crew come and go, SG tour manager Tanner Holt is talking to one of the promoters. Through it all, Jeremy and Zanna remain oblivious to everything but each other and the music that only they can hear. Further into the process, one of them, more often Jeremy, will take up a guitar. At that point, most of the song is in place, although according to Arik Jones, it’s impossible to tell when that happened. “I think they do it by ESP,” says the Sex Gun bass player. “It’s kind of spooky, really.” Matt Wilder, who co-writes Jump Cut’s songs with Martin, agrees. “Zan and I write in a more cognitive way. She does mostly lyrics, I do mostly music, then we combine to put it all together. But with Z and Jeremy, you can’t tell who’s doing what. I don’t think they even know.” Is either band concerned about where their lead singers' relationship might be leading? No one seems very comfortable talking about this, although the other members of Sex Gun admit to a certain level of amazement at the phenomenon of Jeremy Kane falling in love. “He’s changed a lot,” comments Johnny Deal, adding “and mostly for the better. He’s a lot more stable than he used to be. Not nearly such a hell raiser.” He grins. “Jeremy hasn’t hit anyone, destroyed anything, or been arrested since he met her.” Arik agrees, but says cautiously, “The two of them have a lot of things to work out. And it’s not been easy to find the time for it.” He seems to be tactfully avoiding mention of the fact that

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Zanna Martin doesn’t have a lot of space in her life, either. Jeremy is far from being the only man associated with her. Since “Taste the Pain” vaulted into the top ten, Zanna has endured endless speculation about her possible romantic entanglements, and she’s apt to be curt on the subject (“none of your business” is a typical response). None of her bandmates are talking (the only exception being Matt Wilder, who when asked about his relationship with Zanna, would say only “We’re friends, we work together, and the rest is none of your business.”) Zanna has also been linked to Technical Difficulties (married) frontman Nick Tzezna, actor Kaoru Rhodes, and Kelly Ross of Slouching towards Bliss. She admits to an ongoing friendship with Rhodes (“We usually get together when we’re both in LA at the same time”), will say little about Tzezna, and comments with annoyance “I've never even met Kelly Ross!” She’s also not inclined to say much about her relationship with Jeremy Kane. But then, she probably doesn’t need to. Given that he’s been amazingly forthcoming about his feelings for her, one can draw one’s own conclusions from the fact that despite her reticence, she’s undeniably still willing to be with him. Or you could go by this typical encounter. As they get ready to go back to their hotel to catch some rest before the show, Jeremy reaches over and zips up her jacket. His hand lingers on the zipper, and she reaches up and covers it briefly with her own. They exchange a look, warm and smiling. It’s an intimate moment, and it says it all. Whatever turbulence their relationship has gone through, there is still the strong impression that they look after each other. They may not have it all figured out, but they'll still stand together against the rest of the world.GGG

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Chapter 25

Zanna had sufficiently cheered up by afternoon to voluntarily go to the press room to give a sound bite to RockNet, and chat with some of the radio people. She was just about to leave when they got an impromptu treat- she spotted Kelly Ross of Bliss talking to Soundline. She promptly detoured in his direction, blithely interrupting his interview by saying, "Let me introduce myself, I hear we're having a torrid affair." Kelly, whose Celtic good looks featured the unusual combination of black hair and blue eyes, along with to-die-for cheekbones, blushed as he said, "Ms. Martin, I do apologize for the misunderstanding-" Zanna thought she could almost forgive him on the strength of that accent, alone, but she said severely, "Well, really! Must you refer to women in terms usually reserved for food?" He laughed, and said, "I am so sorry!" He went on "The writer asked me who I thought the…um, the most…desirable women in rock were. I'm afraid I should have made it clear that I was speaking from the same vantage point as any fan, rather than from personal experience." He smiled and said, "I do hope you'll forgive me." Behind him, Zanna could hear another member of Bliss mutter "He asked who we thought the most shaggable birds were," but she chose to ignore that, and told Kell,y "I'll think about it," with a return smile. The Soundline reporter, an obvious opportunist, asked her, "Care to comment on anyone else while you're at it?" and Zanna was seized by a sudden wicked impulse, and told him, "Well, let me just say that those rumors that Jeremy and I were married in Vegas last weekend are completely untrue."

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The rest of the day passed slowly, and Zanna was glad when it was time to get ready for their set. Jump Cut was on just before Sex Gun this time, unlike the Oceans benefit where they’d played much earlier in the day. Zanna wasn’t sure if this reflected having several songs doing well on the radio, and an album climbing the charts, or Jeremy having pulled strings, but she didn’t much care. She did know there was some talk among the other bands about Jump Cut getting preferential treatment, but shrugged it off. Even if “Taste This” went quadruple platinum, there’d still be people saying they were getting favors because of their connection with Sex Gun. She had noticed during the brief sound check earlier that her Converse All-Stars tended to slip on the stage surface, and she decided to see if her boots were any better. She told Spike that she was going to check it out once the band playing ahead of Jump Cut was off the stage, and if necessary she could come back to the dressing room and change. The Followers were still on when she reached the stage. Playing over their time limit, too, she noticed. She was waiting impatiently at the side as they finally came off. Mike Corrigan, their singer/rapper, brushed by her, and said, “Get the fuck out of my way, cunt.” Zanna couldn’t believe her ears, but her temper rose to the occasion. She caught the front of his shirt, jerked him around and said sharply, “Watch your mouth, you cretinous piece of arrested development.” He gave her an ugly look, his blunt features and shaved head making him look like a neo Nazi, and said, “You fucking bitches should only be here for one thing.” He grabbed her by the neck and kicked her legs out from under her. It happened so quickly, so shockingly, that her reactions were pure instinct. As her knees hit the floor, she threw her arms up to break the chokehold. He tackled her, knocking her to the ground. He was on top of her, tearing at her clothes, and she felt him grab her breast painfully. She smashed her forearm in the direction of his face. His grip loosened, and she rolled swiftly to the side and came up on her feet, but Corrigan was up, too, and still coming after her. She didn’t wait to find out what he intended. Zanna stepped up and hit him hard in the midsection with her left, doubling him over, then caught him in the face with a

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right uppercut. He reeled back, yelling incoherently, his face bloody, then rushed towards her. Zanna sidestepped neatly, wondering where the hell Security was, aware that he was both bigger and stronger than she, and at the moment completely psychotic. And then, apparently out of nowhere, Jeremy was beside her. He hit Corrigan once, a crashing blow to his face, knocking him backwards and clean off the stage. They stood there, looking down at a prostrate Mike Corrigan, the adrenaline subsiding slowly. Then Zanna said, “That hurt,” shaking her hand. Jeremy turned to her, but suddenly they were surrounded by people: Security, one of the promoters, crew members, Spike, and Matt. Jeremy said peremptorily to a roadie, “Get us some ice, fast,” and the man nodded and disappeared. He turned back to Zanna, saying, “Let’s see the damage.” “I’m okay,” she said, but Jeremy ignored this. He looked at her right hand, where the knuckles were scraped and swelling, and pulled up her shirt, showing abrasions along her ribs where she had hit the floor. Matt said softly, “Oh, shit,” as he brushed her hair back, looking at the purpling swelling at her temple, and a lump on her forehead. Jeremy turned to Spike, Jump Cut’s tour manager, and said, “Have someone find Tanner. Looks like Sex Gun’s going on early.” Zanna’s head came up, and she snapped “No!” Her jaw set and determined, she said, “ I’m not letting that asshole win. Jump Cut goes on as scheduled.” Someone handled her a plastic beer cup full of ice, and she shoved her right hand into it. She looked at Jeremy, and said, “This is our call, not yours.” Matt said, “Z, I’m not so sure he isn’t right,” but she shook her head stubbornly. “That jerk thinks women don’t belong on a rock stage. That’s what he was saying to me. And here and now, I’m proving him wrong.” The men looked at her stubborn expression, and Matt said quietly, “Okay, then. Let's take a look at the setlist, and see if we can adjust it so you won’t have to play later if your hand stiffens up too much.” She nodded. “Good thing I didn’t hit him in the face with my left," she said. "I’d never be able to finger chords.”

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Jeremy said flatly, “Both of you are insane.” “But we’re so good at it,” Zanna told him. Amazingly, she was grinning. She said, “Hey, we won the fight. Be a waste to lose the war.” Jeremy said, “Let’s see your hand.” She took it out of the ice, flexing her fingers gingerly. He shook his head. “I’ll be surprised if you last for more than a few songs.” Matt looked concerned, knowing that most of Jump Cut’s material was arranged for two guitars. He was wondering how well they could ad lib around it. Zanna was repeating doggedly, “We are not going to cancel” when Jeremy said, “In that case, I think you’re going to have to accept some guest appearances.” Looking at Spike and the promoter, he asked, “How long have we got?” “We can make an announcement, stretch it out to an additional 25 or 30 minutes,” said the promoter, who looked nervous, like someone who thought he might be sued. Spike added laconically, "It's not like they don't know what happened," referring to the fact that the fight had been in view of most of the audience. “Okay, then.” Jeremy looked at Zan and Matt, who were staring at him, surprised. “What’s wrong with you two?” he said. “You want to go through with this, we’ll do it as a group effort to save wear and tear on Z. So let’s grab Daniel and figure out what stuff we all know how to play.” Zanna’s smile was like a sunburst after the storm. Radiant, she slipped an arm around Jeremy, kissed his cheek, and said ebulliently, “What a guy!” Matt was grinning, as he said, “We're there.” He turned back though, and told Spike quietly, “See if you can find some painkillers.”

They assembled, both bands, in Sex Gun’s dressing room. Matt was sitting at the table, with Jeremy next to him, and Zanna across. Both Jeremy and Zanna had ice packs on their right hands; Zanna was holding one to her face as well. The others pulled up chairs, sat on the floor, or in Johnny’s case, prowled restlessly. They had been understandably shocked by the news of Corrigan’s attack on Zanna, but caught on immediately to Jeremy’s plan. “It makes sense,” said Arik. “We’ve all played together in some combination by now – tonight we’ll just be doing it for a bigger

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audience than our crews, that’s all. The audience’ll dig it; you know how they love something different.” “Let’s start with Jump Cut’s stuff,” said Jeremy. “Dan, what do you know well enough to play?” Daniel ran through their usual setlist mentally. “4 letter word, Taste, that Supremes one.” Briskly, Jeremy said, “Right. I can do Triage and Girlfriend without totally fucking up.” Matt jotted that down, and said, "Rue de Misery's only one guitar anyway." Zanna said to Jeremy, concerned, “Are you sure your hand is okay?” and he smiled at her and said, “Don’t worry, it won’t be the first time I’ve done this.” David remarked, “We should call this Jump Gun.” “Or Sex Cut,” said Matt. Jeremy grinned. “Jump Sex,” he said. “The cast of thousands,” contributed Andy. Matt looked at the list. “It’s not enough.” Daniel was remembering something. “You guys used to do some covers, right? You did ‘Under the Bridge’ on your video. That’s only one guitar.” “Where’d you see that?” asked Zanna, surprised. Jeremy and Daniel exchanged a guilty look. “MTV’s secret files,” said Jeremy finally. “Back in my days as a stalker.” “This could work,” said Arik. “What other covers do you do?” “Some of your stuff,” remembered Matt, with a grin. Arik and Jeremy looked at each other. “Let’s do a free-for-all on ‘Do You Wanna Know,’” suggested Arik. “It’ll be a blast, and no one will care if it’s sloppy.” Jeremy said, looking from Matt to Zan, “Close with that one?” “Why not,” said Zanna. Arik said to Matt, “Let’s go talk to your tech crew, and fill them in on how we’re doing this.” “Right.” Matt got up, pausing by Zanna, his hands resting lightly on her shoulders. He leaned over, and said in her ear, “Sure you’re up for this?” “Absolutely,” she replied with conviction. Jeremy was watching her closely as she got up, noticing the stiffness and her careful expression as she moved. She saw him looking, and said, “It’s nothing serious.” He raised an eyebrow, and

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she laughed and said, “Hey, wiping out on roller blades was much worse.” She leaned back against the table, and Jeremy looked up at her, waiting. Zanna said, “Thanks for this, Jeremy.” His mouth quirked at the corner. “I still think you’re insane,” he told her, “but if this is what you want to do – well, I’m trying to be supportive here.” He added wryly, “Practicing that relationship shit, in case, someday, it happens.” Her look was warm. “You’re doing great,” she said.

Soundline Review: Jump Cut at Kjo Show, Philadelphia Getting by with a little help from her friends: bloodied, battered, but unbowed, Zanna Martin rocks on as her band is joined by the gang from Sex Gun

…For a while it looked like the chances of Jump Cut playing their set were slim to none. After the bizarre attack of an apparently drugged out Mike Corrigan (see Newsline, insert) which left singer Zanna Martin bruised and bleeding, there was an announcement that there would be a delay, but no indication of who would play next. A restless thirty minute interval went by, then the lights went down, and a solo spot focused on Jump Cut’s Matt Wilder. The handsome young guitar player told the crowd, “Okay, we’re going to try and do this…it’s probably going to be a little rough, because our rhythm player’s injured, so we’ll have some ringers filling in. Thanks for your patience, and forgive us when we screw up.” He got a warm round of applause as he walked over to pick up his guitar, and the crowd waited, agog. Wilder was joined by drummer David Weir and bass player Andy Mitchell, and finally Zanna Martin herself, walking with a perceptible limp, took her place at center stage, to an enthusiastic ovation. Raising her fist high in the air in a power salute, she paused for a moment, silhouetted against the backlighting, and then she brought her arm down to strike a slashing chord, and the show was on. Jump Cut opened with “Cover Me,” with Martin managing both vocals and guitar ably, but she was obviously struggling on the second number, “Just Say Go,” and could be seen in between the songs gulping down painkillers and Diet Coke at the side of the stage. Whether through Vicodan or sheer force of will, she proceeded to give the day’s most riveting performance. Abandoning her guitar, with scrapes and bruises visible she 241

stepped up to the mike as a new rhythm player took over – Jeremy Kane of Sex Gun, making a rare appearance onstage with a guitar. The song was, appropriately enough, “Life is Triage.” From then on, the line up changed constantly as members of Sex Gun came and went. Jump Cut has been opening for Sex Gun on the east coast tour, and SG bass player Arik Jones said to the crowd “Now you know what we’ve been doing in our hotel rooms on this trip.” Among the highlights were “Girlfriend,” with Martin flirting shamelessly with Kane, who was laughing throughout most of the song, and “Love is a 4 Letter Word” with Daniel da Silva spelling Kane as the second guitar. Watching da Silva and Wilder, both virtuoso guitarists, jamming on that one was alone worth the price of admission. The rotating group elected to play several cover tunes, and one choice, the Chili Pepper lament to heroin, “Under the Bridge,” seemed especially poignant, given Kane’s struggle with addiction and Martin’s reported reluctance to become seriously involved with him. When Kane sang about feeling that he doesn’t have a partner, the words seemed invested with special significance. The set ended with Sex Gun’s “Do You Wanna Know?” a wild affair with virtually every member of both bands joining in, and Kane and Martin razzle dazzling their way through verses and chorus alike. Both have an abundance of sexual magnetism, never more apparent than when they’re playing off each other onstage, and together they generate a high level of erotic energy. By the end of it all, Zanna Martin looked fragile and exhausted. As the adrenaline and /or painkillers wore off, she was limping and obviously hurting. But as she came to the front of the stage, saying "Thank you, Philadelphia, for your brotherly love," her smile was as warm as ever, and the audience paid tribute to her personal charisma, talent, and sheer gutsiness with a prolonged and heartfelt ovation. With her trademark gesture, she blew a kiss to the crowd, and walked haltingly off the stage, flanked by Kane on one side, and Matt Wilder on the other.

RockNet Newsline: The Philadelphia Radio KJO alternative rock showcase was marred by a strange and violent incident when The Followers’ Mike Corrigan, leaving the stage after their set, inexplicably attacked Jump Cut vocalist Zanna Martin, who was standing just

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offstage. Corrigan came off the worse for the encounter, sustaining a broken nose, fractured jaw, and fractured coccyx, the latter occurring after Jeremy Kane of Sex Gun came to Martin’s aid and threw Corrigan off the stage. Martin herself sustained minor injuries, but nonetheless performed with Jump Cut, with guest appearances from current touring partners Sex Gun. (click here for review). A spokesperson for The Followers acknowledged that Corrigan was under the influence of drugs and would be entering a rehab program immediately. The attack has led to a rekindled debate over the connection between rock music and violence, given the blatantly misogynistic material of Corrigan’s band, whose latest album features songs with titles such as Bitch Slap, and The Only Good Woman (Is On Her Knees). Many took satisfaction in the fact that the tough and athletic Martin defended herself ably. But others worry that the effectiveness of Martin’s response might detract from the real danger that women face from violence. “Let’s face it, most of us aren’t like Zanna Martin,” said Veronica Taylor from the girl band Saturday's Child. “She’s a jock who must have had martial arts training. Most women wouldn’t have stood a chance.” The Followers’ camp has issued numerous statements apologizing for the incident, calling it the regrettable result of substance abuse. Others have pointed out that drug use and unprovoked attacks on bystanders do not necessarily go together. Certainly one could doubt the sincerity of Mike Corrigan’s brief apology. Speaking through a wired jaw, he read a prepared statement, which sounded stilted and artificial as well as generally lacking in contrition, then added sourly. “You gotta show respect for women, because you never know which one’s the black belt with the psychopath boyfriend.” Meanwhile, the psycho in question, Jeremy Kane, has reportedly said that The Followers will never play again on a slate with Sex Gun. Kane’s LA powerhouse band has the right to veto any group from an event in which they play, under their contract as headliners. Since Sex Gun is expected to do most of the major festivals next year, it looks like The Followers’ live performances will be sharply curtailed.

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Chapter 26

As they left the stage, Jeremy pulled Matt aside. “Look after her,” he said. For maybe the first time in his life, he was really wishing that he didn’t have to perform. He was worried about Zanna, and he wanted to stay with her. Matt could have pointed out that he’d been with her for a lot longer than Jeremy had been in the picture, and hardly needed to be told this, but he knew something of what the other man was going through. With Zanna, it was always complicated by the fact that you weren’t quite sure if you had the right to take care of her. And it was even weirder now that both of them had these odd, in-between relationships with her. Matt hoped they could get some peace and quiet, but it obviously wasn’t in the cards. For starters, the promoters had a doctor waiting for Zanna, an off duty resident who was evidently into rock music. He was in his late twenties, with short dark hair and wire rim glasses, and he looked her over with professional competence before saying “Well, if I’d seen you first, I would have strongly recommended against your playing tonight – but since I didn’t, may I say that I thought you were wonderful?” He had a nice smile, she noticed, as she returned it and thanked him. “You’re going to feel sore for a few days,” he told her. “You’ve been knocked around quite badly.” Zanna said stoically “You should see the other guy,” and the resident smiled. “I did,” he said. He went on, “Excuse me for being blunt, but have you used narcotics?” Zanna, not quite getting it, said, “I think I had codeine after getting my tonsils out,” and the doctor suppressed a laugh, and

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said, “Sorry, what I meant was something more like heroin or cocaine. We don’t prescribe narcotic based pain relievers if someone’s been a user.” She said blankly, “You’re asking if I’m an addict?” The doctor looked abashed. “I’m sorry. In your line of work, it’s not uncommon, and forgive me for putting it this way, but also not unheard of among the company you’re keeping.” Seeing her look of incredulity, he said briskly, “I take it it’s not an issue here,” and gave her a small vial of pills, adding, “Don’t drink or drive.” Zanna rejoined Matt and the promoter in the hall, shaking her head. The police were next on the list. It had already occurred to Zanna that she and Jeremy might be in trouble, given his record and the damage done to Corrigan. She was relieved there seemed to be no doubt in the minds of the cops that it had been self defense. They had her firmly cast in victim mode. The female cop took Polaroids of her bruises and scrapes, including what had by now developed into visible finger marks on her throat and breast. After the cops, it was the press. The promoter whisked Zanna and Matt to the conference room where a table was set up with microphones and a surprising number of journalists. She gave a brief statement about the attack, and Matt talked about how the show became a Jump Cut/Sex Gun joint effort. They answered a few questions, then Zanna begged off on grounds of not feeling well.

When she was finally in her room alone, Zanna found herself wholly unable to relax. There were a number of phone messages, including one from Nick, who had already heard what happened. She returned that one, noticing from the area code that he must be back in Toronto. They talked briefly, and she declined his offer to come down to Philly. “I’m okay, really,” she said. “And we go home tomorrow, anyway.” His voice warm and concerned, he said, “I know you’re independent to a fault, Zanna, so just let me tell you this: let Jeremy look after you this time. You won’t be doing either of you a favor by toughing it out alone.” Feeling her surprise over the line, he

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added “Look, I always knew I wasn’t going to be the one for you. And I don’t even like Jeremy Kane. But I’ll say this for him – he would do anything for you, if you’d give him the chance. And since you obviously have feelings for him, you should try and open up a little more.” “This is weird,” she told him. “You’re on Jeremy’s side?” Nick said, “Zanna, darling, I’m not choosing sides. I’m only saying don’t be so stubborn, or scared, that you miss out on something you really do want.” She was silent, mentally reeling from his perceptiveness, but not ready to acknowledge that he might be right. He continued, “Anyway, know that as a friend I’m here anytime you need me, and don’t hesitate to call.” She said, “You know, you really are a great guy.” He laughed, as he said “Thanks.” She rang off, feeling somewhat the better for having talked with him. She took a hot bath, and then changed into pjs. She deliberately did not turn on the TV, not wanting to see herself on the news. She couldn’t seem to settle into reading. She was sore and tired, and feeling weirdly disconnected. The analytical part of her mind was saying “post traumatic shock” in a dispassionate tone – and the other part was feeling fragile. She wanted the comfort of someone’s arms around her. But whose? That was the problem. It wouldn’t be fair to either Jeremy or Matt. The way she was feeling, it would be all too easy to end up in bed. It was as though having experienced the worst that men could be, she wanted badly to feel now the love, warmth and passion that was the best. All of that was available to her, from either man. The hell of it was, she couldn’t make either any promises. She felt very much alone. The wicked part of her soul was whispering that it was the last night of the tour, anyway. Sex Gun was off to Europe. Jump Cut had a layoff. Whatever she did tonight, the consequences wouldn’t be in her face tomorrow, at least. She resolutely told the wicked voice to shut up. She and Matt were obviously going to have to deal with one another in the not too distant future, and Jeremy was no one to mess with at any time. If she had learned one lesson from that first night, it was not to take

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him lightly. She picked up her notebook, and in desperation, started to write. Nothing too coherent, just a cathartic flood of words. Then she started picking out phrases, and putting them on a new page. It seemed to be working itself into a song, something about anger and violence. She reached an impasse, and mentally shelved it for later. She was just turning to a fresh page, when there was a light knock on her door. It was Matt. He’d evidently done pretty much the same thing she had; his long hair was damp. He was wearing sweatpants and a loose t-shirt, and was barefoot. “Figured you were still up,” he said. “Anything I can do?” “I’m okay,” she said automatically, stepping back to let him in. “You’re such a liar, Z,” he told her. She sat down, cross-legged on the bed, and said, “I didn’t say I felt great. Just okay.” Matt stretched out along the foot of the bed, lying comfortably on his back, head turned so he could watch her. “Seriously?” “Seriously, I’m feeling pretty weirded out.” “You in much pain?” he asked. She shook her head. “No big deal. Anyway, that doctor gave me some stuff, once he decided I wasn’t a junkie.” “What?” Matt looked startled. “Right, funny thing, huh? It never occurred to me before. That people would think that about us, because we’re in a band. Because we’re touring with Sex Gun.” “It bothers you, doesn’t it?” he said shrewdly. “Because of Jeremy.” She said warily, “What do you mean?” He looked at her sympathetically. “That’s one of the big reasons you’re afraid to get involved with him, right? So you hate being reminded that he’s a former addict.” She pulled her knees up, wrapped her arms around them. “Probably,” she agreed sadly. “Although there are a lot of other reasons as well. And not all to do with him.” Matt, who knew more about her past than Jeremy did, said, "You can't run away forever, Z." She looked up, and said, "Actually, I probably can," and he said, "That's pretty selfish, isn't it?" She

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stared at him, a little shocked, and he added, "It's not just your life, Zanna. It's not just yourself you're sentencing to being alone. Maybe you should think about that at some point." What was with everyone tonight, she thought dizzily. Changing the subject, he said, “Hell of a note to end our tour on.” Chin resting on her knees, rocking slightly, Zanna said, “Could have been worse.” At his enquiring look, she said, “We played – all of us – a great show. An absolutely ass kicking concert.” Matt grinned at her. “We did, didn’t we.” She continued, “So I figure the night started with a few crummy minutes, followed by – what? An hour?- of the best that this crazy rock and roll life has to offer.” She paused. “Wonder how Sex Gun’s set went?” “I’m sure the audience got their money’s worth,” said Matt. “One thing you gotta give those guys, they’re pros through and through.” “Unlike us,” she said. “I don’t know how they’ve been able to do it, so consistently, for all these years.” “Well, look at how well they treat themselves, for starters! I mean, no Motel 6 for Sex Gun!” She chuckled. “They do go the deluxe route, don’t they? And they take it for granted – the fancy hotels, people to supply your every creature comfort. While we’re all wide eyed, and, like wow!” “I could get used to this,” Matt admitted. That reminded her of something. “So what do we do next?” she asked him. Before he could answer, there was another knock. Matt made a wry face as Zanna got up and padded to the door. As he had thought, it was Jeremy. “Saw your light was on,” he said. Zanna said, “Come join the post mortem,” as she went back to her spot on the bed. Matt hadn’t moved. Jeremy checked at the sight of him, then shrugged and took up a post on Zanna’s other side. Leaning back against the headboard, elbows on knees, arms dangling loosely, he looked from Zan to Matt. Zanna thought he looked tired. Matt said comfortably, “We were just wondering about you.

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How’d your set go?” Jeremy sighed. “All right, is about it,” he admitted. “It felt like a letdown, after yours. Although I think the crowd drank enough in the intervals that most of them wouldn’t have noticed.” He looked at Zanna. “How are you doing?” “All right, is about it,” she echoed, with a small smile. “I’m just as glad to be going home tomorrow.” Jeremy said wearily, “I wish we were, too. Or that you were coming to Europe with us.” He added, noticing that Matt was giving him a considering look, “Jump Cut is by far the most entertaining bunch of people we’ve toured with. We’ll miss you guys.” Matt said, sounding his age for once, “I wish we were going, too! I’ve never been there.” Jeremy grinned at him. “In all honesty, I have to say that Germany in November is not the greatest time I can think of.” Zanna said, “We’re holding out for Paris in the spring.” Jeremy started to say something, caught himself, stopped. The other two looked at him with mild surprise. He changed the subject. “Have you been to Europe, Z?” She laughed. “I grew up there.” “No kidding?” Jeremy was surprised, although he didn’t know why. Maybe just because of this further evidence that there was so much they didn’t know about each other. “Really. I was born near Cannes, in France. We moved to London when I was about six, and were there for five years.” Jeremy was digesting this, when Matt reluctantly pulled himself up off the bed. “I’m beat,” he announced. “Z, if by any insane chance, you decide you have to run in the morning, get me up and I’ll go with you, okay?” She nodded, and walked him to the door. Matt put both arms around her, and held her close for a long moment. She hugged him back, and he kissed her, lightly but on the mouth, and said, “Sweet dreams, sweet Z.” Glancing in Jeremy’s direction, he added, “Good night, Jeremy. If I don’t see you before you leave, have a good time in Europe.” “I’ll send you a postcard,” said Jeremy lazily, not moving from the bed.

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Zanna closed the door behind Matt, and picked up the vial the doctor had supplied. She shook out a pill and downed it with a swallow of water, and Jeremy said, “What’d they give you?” She consulted the label. “Percodan,” she read. “That should knock you out,” he remarked. “Hope so. I could use the sleep.” She lay back down on the bed. Jeremy glanced down at her with compassion. He knew about her insomnia. She looked exhausted as well as beat up. “I wish,” he began, then stopped. Her changeable eyes, the color of the ocean on a winter day just now, traveled slowly up to meet his, dark and concerned. “What?” she said. He smoothed her hair back, noting the bruises. He leaned down and gently kissed the undamaged side of her face, and softly, “I wish I could make things easier for you, Z.” She said drowsily, “Tonight, you did.” She turned on her side, wincing a little, and propped herself up on her elbow. “It was really important to me to play this show,” she told him. “And without you, it wasn’t going to happen.” He smiled, but said honestly, “I thought you were nuts.” “I know. That’s why it means so much. You were still willing to help me do what I had to do. That’s-” she hesitated. “That’s being a really good friend.” “No, Zanna.” His tone was somber. “It’s called love.” “Doesn’t really matter what you call it,” she said. He could see the drug was taking hold; she was having trouble keeping her eyes open. He slid down the headboard so that he was lying next to her. She rested her head on her arm, and her eyes closed. He was struck by the irony that here they were, lying together, as they had this morning, side by side – and nothing happening, so to speak. He thought that if he were a nice guy, or a gentleman, or whatever, he’d leave now, and decided without regret that he wasn’t. Because he was staying until she threw him out. “It’s okay,” she murmured. “You…can stay if…you want.” She must have read his mind, he thought. He said, “Under the covers with you, then.” She obediently slid the blankets from under her, and slipped out of her robe. She was wearing an oversized Sex Gun t-shirt underneath, he noticed with amusement. He pulled the

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blanket up over her, and hesitated. Then he shrugged to himself, pulled off his sweatshirt and let his jeans drop to the floor. Last night of the tour, and god knew when he’d see her again. Might as well be comfortable. He was well aware that she was hurt, under the influence of a strong narcotic, and possibly emotionally vulnerable, and he had no intention of taking advantage of her condition. But he was damned if he was going to leave her by herself. She curled up against him, warm and close. He turned off the light, and said, “Good night, Zanna love.” He thought she was already out, but she replied sleepily, “Night, Jeremy. Wish it wasn’t over…so soon…” Her voice faded and her breathing deepened. He wondered what she meant. * * * * Zanna stirred, felt him next to her, paused. Confused, she opened her eyes. Jeremy. She felt a touch of relief, followed by a flash of humour. It seemed pretty funny, after all they’d been through, that she was finding it reassuring to wake up with him. He felt her move against him, and thought here we go again, with some anxiety. Not that anything had happened last night, but … he told himself this was the last time he went to bed with Zanna Martin when she was under the influence. Of anything. Then he heard her give a sleepy chuckle, and, amazingly, far from freaking out, this time she was cuddling up to him, her arm across his chest, the arch of her foot rubbing familiarly over his instep. He wrapped both arms around her, and said, “Good morning, Zanna.” “Hey.” She raised her head and smiled drowsily at him, then nuzzled into his neck in a friendly way. He was beginning to think the situation was rather promising when the phone rang. Zanna rolled over, not without some reluctance, and picked up the receiver. “’Lo?” It was Tanner. “Sorry to bother you, Zanna, but have you seen Jeremy?” he asked with elaborate casualness. Zanna rubbed her eyes, and looked at the clock. Eight o’clock? Could that possibly be right? She said to Tanner, “He’s right here,” and handed the phone to Jeremy, who looked distinctly put out. “What,” he said, not nicely. Zanna slid out of bed, went to the minifrig and got a bottle of

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mineral water. She took a long pull, marveling at how long they’d slept. She stretched carefully, taking inventory. Stiff and sore, but all in all, not bad. She hoped vengefully that Mike Corrigan felt like absolute crap. Jeremy was saying, “What do you mean, moved up?” He listened, then said flatly, “No fucking way.” Zanna saw his jaw tighten as he listened to Tanner. “Well, I’m not,” he said. Pause. Then he said, “I don’t care if the whole fucking tour gets cancelled.” Zanna had a feeling she knew where this was coming from. She crossed over to the bed and took the receiver out of Jeremy’s hand. Moving adroitly out of reach, she asked, “Tanner, what’s going on?” Sex Gun’s tour manager sounded stressed, but he still said, “Zanna, how are you doing this morning?” “Okay, thanks. So tell me, why is Jeremy looking pissed off?” He was lying flat on his back, hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling, lips tightly compressed. Tanner said, “Because the band needs to catch an earlier flight. There have been a bunch of cancellations because of bad weather in New York, and-” Calmly she said, “How soon are you leaving?” Tanner answered, “Twenty minutes, more or less. Zanna, I’m sorry.” “Life,” she told him. “What can you do? He’ll meet you in the lobby.” She hung up and regarded Jeremy with a touch of wry amusement. “To be continued,” she said, sitting down next to him. He sat up, and looking at him, she was genuinely sorry he had to leave. He looked cross, sleepy, and eminently desirable. She ran her hand over his naked torso, liking the silky smoothness of his skin, the hardness of the muscle. He gave her a glum look, and said, “I cannot fucking believe this.” She rumpled his thick black hair with an affectionate gesture. “Maybe next time,” she said. He groaned and reached for her, pulling her into his arms, cradling her against him. He kissed the top of her head, and said, “So when’s that going to be?” “Beats me,” she admitted honestly. She hugged him back. “You’ve got to get going.” “Yeah. I suppose.” He released her, slid out of bed and hauled

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on his jeans. Going to the sink and splashing his face with water, he said, “If I email you, would you write me back?” Surprised, Zanna said, “I didn’t know you had a computer.” “I don’t,” he said. “Yet.” “Oh.” She thought about it. “Sure.” Jeremy pulled his sweatshirt over his head. “Arik have your address?” he asked. “I expect so,” she replied. “Anyway, I’ll send him a message, then he’ll have it for sure.” Jeremy looked skeptical, and she laughed. “I’m much better about email than phone calls,” she said. They stood looking at each other. Zanna said, “It’s been swell.” His expression was hard to read. She added, “I mean that. I’ve really enjoyed touring with you, this last week.” “Then let’s do it again, soon,” he said. She said nothing, but put her arms around him. He held her for a moment, acutely aware of the shape of her under the t-shirt. God, he wanted her so badly. Not just to make love with her, but to have breakfast with her, share the newspaper, even go for a stupid run if that was what she wanted to do. He wanted the casual intimacy as much as he craved her sexuality. He was ready to quit his goddamn band if it meant he could stay with her. She apparently was still adept at reading his mind, because she pushed him away and said sternly, “Go.” “Yeah. Okay.” He sighed, and walked to the door. Turned back to look at her. “Zanna,” he began. “Later.” She smiled, but her eyes were serious. She didn’t want him to say it. Her gaze met his, and he held it, willing her to feel what she wouldn’t let him tell her. He said then “See you around,” and he was gone. She drew a deep breath, let it out slowly. She felt a sense of desolation, of loss, was shocked by its strength. Don’t be such a baby, she told herself. Deal with it.

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Chapter 27

To: Zanna From: Jeremy Re: hi

Who knew Mrs. Wasburn was right and I’d actually find a use for what I was supposed to learn in her stupid typing class/ we thought it was a way to meet girrls So here we are in Amsterdam where it always seems to be raining. Our hotel is one of those soulless ones for business people. They have a conference room with modems and computers for the business types to plug into, and tha’ts where I’m writing thiss. It’s the ungodly hour of eight o clock in the MORNING but I couldn’t sleep any longer. So me and some executives are here, typing away. They keep eyeing me, and so far they’re all sitting as far away as possible. I took a shower so it’s not that oh I get it I think it’s the butthole surfers shirt. Yeah. So where were we? Oh yeah, you were kickingme out of your hotel room. Do you know, zanna, I was ready to blow off this tour if it meant I could spend the morning with you. Yeah, you did know didn’t you, why you threw me out. I’mnot used to this typing shit I can’t think and write this way. Can you? Can’t draw pictures, either. Can’t figure out how to end this. I don’t seem to have said anything of import. Well, fuck it.

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Love, jeremy Oh could you reply SOON so I know this works ??????

To: Jeremy From: Z Re: nice to hear from you

One thing you’ve got to give email, it’s fast! But I know what you mean about it being difficult to think – I can’t write anything creative on a computer, unless you count vicious lawyerly communications. I’m guessing you’ll get this in Germany – where’s Bob a what’s it, anyway? Not much new here. Just talked to Sarah, they want a video for Downtown, so we’ll probably go out to LA for a few days sometime within the month. My idea is to do a walk through a scary, trashed out sort of urban core. Probably the irony would be wasted on the kids that watch the videos, though… btw (that’s computer speak for by the way) you don’t have to say anything important in email. It’s communication for a junkfed world, no content needed. Read you later, Zanna

To: Zanna From: Jeremy Re: no content

Right, germany, no idea where the fuck it is. Still raining. Far as I know, this place consists of a Sporthalle where Hit ler would have been right at hom. It’s late, post show, which wasn’t great, in my opinion. Arik’s got a cold and is on the listless side. I realized how much we take him for granted sometimes, he really drives a lot of our music and even when he’s not dead on he’s still better than most but…it took more effort tonight, for me to get 255

into it. Tomorrow Hamburg then upt o Scandanavia. Tell Matt he’s not missing a thing.

To: Jeremy From: Zan Re: my day

Sometimes it’s so nice to be at home, after our vagabond autumn…this morning I got up early and had a leisurely cup of coffee curled up on the dining room window seat, watching the sky turn rosy colors as the sun came up. Then I went to the gym and did my thing, which felt great. Went to the caf for a chai and wrote for a while. Seems to be a song, with bondage metaphors. Went to the library, major score there, several books I’ve been waiting for were in. Listened to Californication while making soup and a pasta casserole. God, they’re good! (The band, I mean, not the food, although hopefully it will be). You know the song Road Trippin? It reminds me of our day at Point Parrish. Made cranberry cake while rocking out to Foo Fighter’s latest (easily their best, imho) realized I had way too much food on hand, and called Matt to invite him over for dinner. We were going to a movie tonight anyway.

All for now, Z

To: Z From: Jeremy Re: questions and answers

What’s an imho? You cook? Do you eat it, too? How far did you run? What books? What movie?

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Bondage? Cool. Can I be in the video? Road trippin, excellent song, makes my soundtrack for highlights of 1999. Nothing Left to Lose, I agree, FFs most developed effort.

To: Jeremy From: Zanna Re: LOL!!

Which stands for laughing out loud, a way of giving a cyber chuckle. IMHO in my humble opinion. Yes, I cook and eat too, don’t be such a smart ass. And I’m not telling you how far I’m running, since I detect a censorious tone there. Books: Stone Quarry, by SJ Rozan, a series I like. And believe it or not, Harry Potter #2. Movie: The Red Violin, two thumbs up.

Jump Cut’s off for a quickie Southwest jaunt opening for Slouching towards Bliss. Don’t believe anything you hear about Kelly Ross and myself, okay? It snowed five inches last night, so I’m ready for Arizona!

To: Zanna From: Jeremy Re: your tour or mine?

According to your website, you must be either en route or in Albuquerque. How is it being on tour with Bliss? Scandanavia was grim, and do their journalists ever ask some stupid fucking questions. I think my favorite was “If you were a tree, what kind would you be?” I said I don’t know one fucking tree from another. So then he asks me what animal I’d be. True confessions time: I said the z word. Hopefully that article will never be translated into English and most of the world will remain in ignorance (and won’t be impelled to ask 257

you about it). Anyway, sorry. We’re off to Milan tomorrow, then Spain. Arik keeps saying if Jump Cut was here, they’d know where to eat. We miss you.

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To: Jeremy From: Z Re: HOUSE PET???

That’s right, you underestimated my sources and the vast power of the Internet. I had your quote in 24 hours: “whatever house pet Zanna prefers.” So what, a stupid question deserves a moronic answer??? Oh, btw, that would make you a GSD. Anyway, I’m forgiving you this one, because I want to ask a favor. I have a friend who's going to be at your show in Barcelona. Any chance you can give him an autographed something, whatever, and make his night? (I should perhaps explain here that technically I’ve never met him FTF, we're cyber chums).

To: Zanna From: Jeremy Re: sure

We’ve got a meet and greet there anyway, fan club contest I think, so I’ll put your friend's name on the list. How is it you know him? I’m told gsd stands for German Shepherd Dog. I’m glad it wasn’t a poodle.

To: Jeremy From: Z Re: cyber friend

Thanks, that’s great! His English is excellent, btw. His name is Eduardo, and how I know him….um, question for you. Where do you stand on the MP3 / Napster controversy? Because if you're in Lars Ulrich's camp, I can't tell you.

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I think Metallica are missing the point in trying to shut down a site-ten more will just spring up in Napster’s place. But probably we all need to think about how to use the electronic marketplace ourselves, without alienating fans.

Acceptable response. He's an amazingly talented cracker who keeps me supplied with a complete music library (the stuff I use for running) and some video, too. Unbelievable bootlegs, including some of your stuff. (Loved your performance at Riverfest in 95,btw. Almost as good as SF this year ) He also runs a Bush fansite.

You should get Gavin to do something, too.

I don’t know Gavin.

Really? Could have sworn I read in Soundline that you two…..just kidding.

To: Jeremy From: Zan Re: ha ha

Oh, funny.

Anyway – Bliss is fine to tour with, definitely a step up from Killer App ( and for that matter, Sex Gun, Part 1, since Bliss doesn’t yell at me) but not as much fun as Sex Gun, Part 2, but then who is? I guess we miss you guys, too. We’re in TX now – Houston and Dallas were featureless wastelands, but we’re off to San Antonio, which I’m looking forward to. Good food, we hear. Tell Arik we’ll be thinking of him.

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To: Zanna From: Jeremy Re: Barcelona

Hey, your friend was a treat. Very nice, very cool. We gave him and his bud onstage passes. On to zurich…or maybe berlin, I’mnot sure. London is last, then home and I can’t wait. Oh, fyi, my spanish is actually a bit better than Eduardo's english

Duh, I should have known that, you being a So Cal native and all. What else don’t I know? San An was wonderful. Warm climate, warm people. Great show.

To: Zanna From: Jeremy Re: what else?

Yeah, we seem to have some gaps, don’t we? Is there any possibility that we could spend some time together and fill in a few?

The last few days were frantic – a lot of PR stuff. Interviews, a thing with MTV Europe, a “secret” club show in Berlin. Johnny dug it, lots of sinister looking chicks in black leather. I’ve been reading Tom Brokaw’s book on the WWII generation – those days seem a lot closer over here. I was struck by how matter of fact they were about the shocking things that were happening to them. There was a nurse who was with a mash unit on the beaches, where they were trying to do surgery with bullets ripping through their tent. Her reflection was that she hasn’t liked camping since. Makes you think.

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To: Jeremy From: Z Re: nothing left to chance

So I see we are going to be spending some time together soon, since I’m told we’re doing the Big Day Out tour, in Australia, after the new year. As is Sex Gun, of course. Who’d you have to blackmail for that? Know what you mean about Europe and the past. And I thought the same thing about that book. The one that got me was about the soldiers blown up by landmines, just barely alive, calmly shooting up with morphine so they could stay functioning long enough to talk the next soldiers thru the minefield, knowing they themselves were dead. Fly home tonight, after the show. Hurrah.

To: Zanna From: Jeremy Re: Big Day Out

Okay, this is the frustrating thing about email, I can’t tell if you’re sounding sarcastic, or what. Didn’t have to blackmail anyone, not that I wouldn’t have done it, but you’re selling like wildfire in Oz. Are you mad at me????????????????????????

To: Jeremy From: Zanna Re: mad

No. Love, Z

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Chapter 28

Sex Gun was back in California, taking a break until after the new year, when Maia called Jeremy about the Take Two party. “This is your chance to get the jump on everyone,” she said. “Invitations don’t go out until Tuesday. Sarah’s already called Zanna and told her how we want as many artists as possible, et cetera. And Zanna did say that the rest of Jump Cut won’t be available, so obviously she isn’t going with Matt.” “Okay,” said Jeremy, thinking. “She’s in Minnesota until the Big Day Out tour?” “No,” Maia told him. “She’s going to be in Hawaii through the holidays. She has family there.” Jeremy wondered why everyone but him seemed to know these things about Zanna. “Anyway,” Maia continued, “It’ll be easy enough for her to go out through LA and stop over for a few days. So call her right away.” “Yeah. Is this a fancy thing?” he asked. “Black tie optional, but yes, on the fancy side.” “Fuck,” said Jeremy gloomily. Maia laughed, knowing exactly what he was thinking. “I’ll take you shopping,” she promised. “And look on the bright side-you get to see Zanna dressed to the nines. I bet she cleans up spectacularly.” Jeremy said, “She always looks great. In anything.” He thought, and even better in nothing, but didn’t say it aloud.

Jeremy felt absurdly nervous about calling Zanna. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d asked someone out. He couldn’t remember if he’d ever asked a woman for a date. He didn’t know

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what to say. Then it occurred to him that he didn’t have her Minnesota phone number, and he swore. He supposed he could get it from Sarah, but on further thought, he decided it might be better to email her instead. He plugged the modem in, and turned on his laptop. Connected to the Internet, and opened up email. Clicked on Zanna’s address. And sat staring at the screen for ten minutes. Fuck, this is ridiculous, he thought. He typed: Dear Zanna, Then he thought that it looked too formal, so he put just Zanna. But that seemed too abrupt, so he started over. Dear Z Okay, that was sort of middle ground. He stared at it for a while. Want to go to No. I was wondering No. Would you-

Fuck, this is hopeless, he thought. Screw it. He was going to have to call her after all, or forget about it. Frustrated, he typed, knowing he’d never send it-

Zanna, my love, I’m sitting here trying to figure out how the fuck to ask you for a date. I can’t think of how to put it, what to say, which is funny, huh, when you think that I’m supposed to be a writer. So can you see us doing anything as normal as going on a date? Maybe we should try a movie or something first, as a warm up. Maybe a fancy schmancy party is too big a first step. I don’t know, what do you think? You know what, I get dizzy thinking about being by your side at a party. Together. Looking like we’re supposed to be together, like we’re there on purpose, not like you happened to stand by me for a minute, or more likely, as if I was following you around like I usually do, in my stupidly devoted puppy dog mode, and you hadn’t noticed me yet, and disappeared like you usually do. Yeah, do you know, I fucking love the idea of you voluntarily being with me for an evening. I’m sitting here, picturing it, although

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I just realized I’m picturing you the way you look on tour, in those little outfits with your long black legs and kick ass boots. I guess you might look a little different for Maia’s party. Maybe not, you make your own rules, I love that about you. I love everything about you. Okay, I lied, not everything. I don’t love it when you won’t eat, that bugs the shit out of me, in fact. And I could do without the way all those other guys follow you around, Nick fucking Tzezna was bad enough, but I cannot fucking believe you let Adam Leskar anywhere near you christ I’d like to murder him for the way he looks at you. Okay, I’m sounding like a jealous asshole again, huh? And god knows, if I tried to tell you this, you’d close up and shut down and run away again, because you don’t want to know. Why is that , Zanna? I mean, I know why you’d have some doubts about me, I know I don’t look like a great deal for a woman like you, but why is it you don’t let anyone in? Maybe you do, maybe Matt, I don’t know. Oh, my lovely Zanna. I want you, every minute of every day. I miss you. And I can’t even figure out how to ask you to a party. I am such a fucking loser sometimes.

He groaned and shoved the chair back from the desk. Daniel came in then, saying, “Hey, is Arik around?” “Don’t know,” said Jeremy. “ What are you doing here? Were we supposed to have a practice, or something?” “Naw. We were just going to go over the intro to Hurricane. And maybe work on that broken glass song of Z’s.” He added, giving Jeremy a speculative look, “It needs two guitars, really.” “What do you want me to do about it?” snapped Jeremy. “Pick up a guitar for one song? Maybe someone else could sing it.” He started rapidly closing out the windows on the computer screen, and turned the machine off. “Talk to Zanna, she’s the one who wrote it.” Daniel said, “That’s what I was thinking.” Jeremy glanced at him, startled out of his preoccupation. “What?” “Well, as long as Jump Cut’s on the same tour. Why couldn’t she play a couple of songs with us? Couldn’t you ask her?”

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Jeremy laughed, shortly. “I can’t even ask her for a goddamn date. You want to play with Zanna Martin, you talk to her.” Daniel was silent for a moment. Then he said sympathetically, “How come?” “Huh?” “Why can’t you ask her for a date?” Jeremy said in frustration, “Because I can’t think how to say it. Because anything I write looks wrong. Because I don’t have her phone number, and she doesn’t like phones anyway. Because-” “So go see her,” suggested Daniel. “It’s not like Minnesota’s the end of the earth. Just go.”

Zanna was up, but just barely, when her buzzer sounded to signal someone was at the door. She glanced at the clock. Seven oh eight. Who the hell showed up that early? Both the button that released the door latch, and the intercom were broken (her condo was in an old Victorian mansion that had tons of charm but was shaky on maintenance) so she wrapped her robe more securely around her and ran barefoot down the stairs. There was someone at the door, a man. He turned around, and through the glass she recognized Jeremy. Jeremy? He was shivering as she opened the door and stared at him in disbelief. He looked at her uncertainly and said, “Hi.” “Hi,” she said back. She was too stunned to think of anything else. He said, “Could I come in for a minute? It’s really cold out here.” She said automatically, “It’s only 25 degrees, that’s not cold,” as she moved back. “You Northerners are sickos,” Jeremy told her, thankfully stepping into the warm hallway. Before she could say anything, he said “Okay, I know this probably seems kind of strange, me being here, but I didn’t have your phone number, and I couldn’t think what to write, so…” His voice trailed off. She said, “It’s okay.” Jeremy looked at her, wrapped in what looked like a man’s

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bathrobe in navy foulard satin lined with red terry, with tousled hair and bare feet, gazing at him uncomprehendingly. He said abruptly, “Would you go to Maia’s party with me?” She wrinkled her nose, looking a little puzzled. “Okay.” He said, wanting to make sure she understood, “I mean, as my date.” “All right.” She still looked puzzled. She ran her hand through her hair, and asked, “You want some coffee?” “That would be nice,” said Jeremy politely. Zanna led the way up the stairs to her apartment. He didn’t know what he had expected her place to look like, but as he walked in he felt as if he was being enveloped in light and color. There were many tall windows with sheer white tab curtains suspended from wrought iron rods. The walls were painted a myriad of different colors and textures. The hall was a stormy cobalt blue, with white woodwork, black and white matted photographs in silver frames, and some vintage travel posters. Zanna led the way through to the living room, which had walls in marigold colors, big, vibrant oil paintings in gilt frames, and a carousel horse on a brass pole. She went through a formal dining room done in terra cotta and into the kitchen. Zanna got out the Kona coffee from the freezer, and ground beans and poured water into the coffee maker. With it dripping promisingly, she took out two mugs. One had a picture of mountains on the side and said Coffee Manoa. The other had a picture of a dog and said GSDs Rule. Jeremy sat down at the counter. The kitchen was a big room with a U shaped work core done in white cabinets, and granite counters. The rest of the room looked more like a study. Exposed brick, lots of bookshelves, cushy chairs upholstered in faded chintz drawn up to the wooden table, and a big wooden armoire open to reveal a computer work station. Her place. Jeremy liked it. He liked being in it. She put a mug in front of him, remembering he took it black. After topping off her own with creamer, she came around the counter and took the other bar stool. They sipped coffee in silence for a moment. Then Zanna said, “You came all this way to ask me to a party?”

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Well, he couldn’t very well claim he just happened to be in the neighborhood. “Yeah,” he said. She drank more coffee. “That’s pretty weird, Jeremy, even for you.” She was starting to smile. “Yeah, I guess.” He grinned sheepishly, slanting a sideways look at her. He had a feeling of unreality, from having been up all night, leaving the warmth of LA to land in this frozen northern city, sitting here with Zanna in domestic coziness in her condo. He said, “It was kind of an impulse thing.” She shook her head, still smiling. “Well, since you’re here,” she said. “You want some breakfast?” “Sure. Great.” She got up and went around the counter, poured them both more coffee, and looked in the refrigerator. She said, “I think we’ll have to go out.” Jeremy nodded, and drank his coffee, his dark eyes watching over the rim of the mug. He was wondering what her bedroom looked like. Aloud, he said, “I like your apartment.” “Thanks.” “It’s kind of nice to-” he paused, framing the thought. “See you in context, I guess.” She replied, “Well, if you ever get a place, you can have me over and return the favor!” He looked around thoughtfully. “I don’t think my abodes ever have this much character.” He grinned. “But Arik’s threatening to evict me if I don’t find something by spring, so I guess we’ll see.” “Why don’t you have your own place? It does seem kind of strange.” Jeremy shrugged. “Because I’m lazy? Because it doesn’t seem to matter to anyone except my accountant? Maybe because we’ve been traveling a lot for the past few months, off and on since ‘Hurricane’ came out.” He went on, “Over the summer I was pretty much living with Jaime when I was in LA. When we started practicing in earnest for the fall tour, I moved into Arik’s, for convenience. That was right before I met you,” he added. “That would drive me crazy,” she said. “I love being able to

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come back to my own place now, after so many years of being sort of shiftless.” “Why was that? That you were shiftless, I mean.” “Oh – college, grad school, marriage, changing jobs, that sort of thing. It meant a lot of moving around. Now I like to feel that I always have some place to go to ground.” She added, “It’s one of the reasons that I couldn’t handle marriage, and why I won’t live with anyone. I kept wanting to go home – and feeling like I didn’t have one.” She slid off her seat and said, “I’m going to get dressed. Make yourself at home.” He wandered around her apartment, admiring how she had indeed put together a comfortable and distinctive nest for herself. The floors and elaborate Victorian woodwork were a warm, deep honey color. The dining room’s curved buffet was topped with a smoky old mirror, and the bay window must be where she said she was watching the sunrise, in her email, he thought. The living room had a marble fireplace. The carousel horse on its brass pole inhabited one corner. He was painted in shiny black enamel with gilded horseshoes, his mane fancifully picked out in red and deep purple. He had enough dings to look antique. Jeremy patted his nose as he looked at the pictures behind the horse. Black and white photographs, most likely her family, since several of the subjects looked vaguely like Zanna. He sat down on the couch, which had deep cushions upholstered in midnight blue velvet trimmed with gold satin cord and tassels. It was extremely comfortable. He leaned back and closed his eyes for a moment. Zanna, coming back shortly afterward, was treated to the unlikely sight of Jeremy Kane, notorious frontman for the controversial rock group Sex Gun, conked out on her sofa fast asleep. She smiled to herself, as she covered him up with a chenille throw. He did tend to do things the hard way, she mused.

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Chapter 29

Jeremy awoke about an hour later, thoroughly disoriented. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, and discovered Zanna curled in the armchair opposite, glancing up from her book and smiling at him. “Hey, sleeping beauty,” she said cheerfully. “Feeling better?” “Yeah, I think.” He looked around, remembered where he was. “Sorry for passing out on you,” he said. “Not a problem,” she replied. “You hungry?” “Kind of.” He asked, “Can I take a shower first?” “Of course.” She uncoiled from her chair, and said, “Right this way.” Jeremy stood, stretched, and followed her upstairs to an attic bedroom. It was big and airy, painted a soft saltwater green, with thick silvery carpet underneath. Jeremy gave the queen size wrought iron bed a wistful look, but Zanna was briskly handing him towels and saying, “Through there. There’s a new toothbrush in the top drawer that you can have, it’s the wimpy kind the dentist always hands out.” The bathroom, taking up space under the eaves, was full of curious angles, but it had an old-fashioned claw foot tub and a separate, large and very modern tiled shower. Jeremy opted for the latter, although the bathtub looked easily big enough for two people and spurred some erotic visions. He told himself to stop thinking about it, but it was difficult. He realized he’d never been with her in a personal and private setting. Hotel rooms, even expensive ones, all had a slightly institutional air, and Arik’s was like Grand Central, there were so many people coming and going. Maybe it was time to get serious about buying a house.

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Zanna took him to a place just down the street from where she lived, called, oddly enough, Café Z. The waitress, who had clear pale skin and burgundy hair, seemed to know Zanna, and gave Jeremy a speculative look. He wondered if Zanna came here with other men. They split eggs benedict, New York style (smoked salmon and dilled hollandaise), a huge carmel roll (“I think these things have like a pound of butter in them,” she told him, “but they’re really good”) and a fresh fruit cup. Jeremy was getting to like this meal sharing thing; it made him feel like he had some kind of standing in her life, and anyway you got to try more things this way. Jeremy told her more about the European tour, and Zanna seemed a little envious. “I wish we’d done that leg, instead of the east coast!” she told him. “Me, too,” he answered. “We got stuck with some Scottish band – we couldn’t understand a word they said, their accents were so thick.” Zanna laughed. “How’d they sound?” she asked. “Not bad. Need some polish. Not as good as your band,” he said. “So, when are you going back?” “To Europe? Next summer, for the big festival gigs,” he replied. She grinned. “Actually, I meant back to LA,” she said. “Oh. Well, after this, I guess.” Jeremy looked a little uncomfortable. He really wanted to stay longer, and knew it was probably impossible. To break the silence, he said, “This was kind of unplanned. Daniel said, go ask her in person, and he gave me a ride to the airport. I didn’t exactly think it out.” She tore off a piece of the carmel roll, and said curiously, “Why was it so hard for you to ask me to the party?” “Christ, I don’t know, Z! I guess I haven’t had much practice. Maybe I was afraid you’d say no.” He looked at her across the table. “Sometimes you reduce me to feeling about fifteen again, and my social skills regress severely. I don’t know why that is.” She looked amused. “Well, sometimes you paralyze me. That’s partly why I never called you. I just couldn’t.” She added, “Remind me to give you my phone number before you go, though. It’s a little more convenient than hopping a plane every time you need to say something to me.” “I just love a smart ass girl,” said Jeremy. “Anyway, I think

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Maia’s do will be fun, since we can go together.” He remembered something. “Oh yeah, I’m supposed to ask you if you’ll play with us.” “What?” “You know, with Sex Gun. We’re supposed to be part of the entertainment. We’ll do our Take Two songs, and some other oldies covers. There’s going to be a band to back some of the other singers on their tracks, but we thought maybe you’d rather have us for ‘Downtown.’ Then we got to thinking about it, and figured it would be cool if you just joined us for the set. It’s not like we’re doing Sex Gun stuff, and this way you and I can trade off on guitar and vocals.” “Me, play with Sex Gun.” She seemed slightly incredulous. “Yeah, why not? Not like you haven’t done it before.” Jeremy ate the last of the carmel roll, and drank some coffee. “That was different. It wasn’t like you gave me any choice at Oceans, and at Philly I had my own band. And the other times, it was just screwing around.” Jeremy looked surprised. “You don’t want to do it?” “It’s not that, it’s…I mean, I’m not really-you know.” “Well, no. Actually, Zanna, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She tried to explain. “I’m not really a musician, I pretty much just copy what someone shows me. You guys are the real thing, I mean, you’re total professionals. I’m this half-baked amateur who’s mostly faking it.” Jeremy threw back his head and laughed. The waitress, passing by their table, smiled at him. He grinned back at her, and said, “She doesn’t know how good she is, can you believe it?” Looking at Zanna, he told her “Z, you’re good enough for us on your worst day, okay? So we’ll show you the guitar part for ‘Hard Days Night’ and some other songs. No big deal. And in case you hadn’t noticed, your band’s had two songs high on the charts, and you’re performing in front of big crowds, who love your every move. I think your amateur days are a thing of the past.” “I don’t know…when would we practice?” she asked. “We’ll fit it in. If nothing else, come a few days before the show, and we’ll do it then. It’s not a big deal, we’ll do maybe half a dozen

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songs.” He added with a touch of cunning “We could go surfing, too. Get you some practice before Australia.” She said, “Will we have time for it, on the Big Day Out tour?” “Oh yeah.” Jeremy grinned. “It’s as much a vacation as it is work. Oz is great.” Zanna thought it over. The idea of playing with Sex Gun was scary. It was one thing to be onstage with her guys, but appearing at a celebrity soaked shindig with one of the biggest acts in alternative rock was another matter entirely. On the other hand, it was way up there in the category of once-in-a-lifetime opportunities, and it seemed churlish to turn it down. She looked up at Jeremy, who was now giving her an enigmatic look. “Do you want me to do this?” she asked him unexpectedly. He said seriously “Yeah, Z, I do.” “Well, all right then. I guess I’m in,” she told him. He leaned across the table and kissed her cheek. “Thank you,” he said. She replied, “I hope you don’t regret it. Honestly, I pretty much suck as a guitar player-” and Jeremy said “According to Daniel, not as much as I do.” She looked startled, and he said with a laugh, “Seriously. He’d for sure rather have you than me, on guitar,” and Zanna said “Wow.” Then she said “I’ve wanted to ask you something for a long time.” “Go ahead. Anything.” “No matter what Daniel thinks, you do play well. I mean, I’ve heard you on studio tracks, and when we play, and that time you backed Maia. You’re good. Why don’t you play live with Sex Gun?” Jeremy said, “Because I can’t do more than two things at once, at least not onstage.” Seeing her puzzled look, he grinned at her and said, “It’s simple. I can play, and play well, but I can’t do it and sing, and move, at the same time. So if I play, we look really fucking boring as a live act.” “Oh.” She thought about this, and could see what he meant. Part of what made Sex Gun’s concerts so riveting was watching Jeremy. And in comparison with some of the bands whose frontmen did both guitar and vocals, it was true; they were not as interesting to watch. “On the other hand,” continued Jeremy, “you’re much more dynamic when you play. That stuff you and Matt do is wild. No

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one can believe the coordination the two of you have, to pull that off.” She said absently, “We’ve been dance partners for years, it helps.” Jeremy liked this explanation better than the one that had already occurred to him.

She gave him a ride back to the airport a little later. She almost wanted to suggest he stay for a few days, but suppressed this reckless inclination. Still, she had to admit, it had been…well, nice, seeing him again. She was actually glad that she’d be out in LA pretty soon, and after that there was the Down Under tour… For his part, Jeremy was content with what had been achieved. He had his date for the party, and she was going to play with them. First things first, he thought, and he had even set the stage for Daniel to talk her into his Big Day Out plan. They pulled up at the curbside unloading area for departures, and Jeremy leaned across and kissed her lightly, but on the mouth this time. He said, “Let us know when you can come, okay? See you soon,” and got out of the car. He turned towards the terminal, not inclined to linger in what he persisted in regarding as frigid polar air, when Zanna called out “Hey!” He looked back. She was standing out of the car, looking across the roof at him. She said, “By the way, I have never thought of you as a fucking loser,” and as he stared at her in dawning and horrified comprehension, she gave him a very cheeky smile and got back in her car and drove off. Jeremy, looking after her, had to laugh. That fucking email. The joke was definitely on him.

Soundline Review New Releases: Take Two, Various Artists, compilation for the benefit of Animal Relief Foundation.

This compilation of unlikely oldies covers by an interesting assortment of artists has more going for it than you might think. By now, everyone must have heard the pre-release single, Sex Gun’s darkly sensual rendition of ‘ This Magic Moment” but it’s far from being the only reason to buy this CD. Apart from the fact that these are interesting takes on some genuinely good 274

songs, just consider the faintly incestuous nature of the contributors. You don’t even need six degrees to tie most of them together. For starters, Maia Stadick, who does a bouncy version of the Rascals’ Good Lovin’, and who was also one of the motivating forces behind the album, is a former girlfriend of Jeremy Kane, lead singer for Sex Gun. Bass player Arik Jones had a long term relationship with Kara Lewis, whose contribution is a remake of Dusty Springfield’s ‘Son of a Preacher Man.’ Zanna Martin of Jump Cut (‘Downtown’ and ‘Walk a Million Miles’) is Kane’s current obsession. Nick Tzezna of Technical Difficulties (‘Summer Rain’) is Martin’s frequent escort. Kelly Ross of Slouching towards Bliss (‘Take a Giant Step’) would like to be. Adam Leskar of Killer App – well, who knows exactly what Adam wants to do with her, let’s just leave it at that. Mick Crandall, who does ‘It Ain’t Me, Babe’ once played in a band with Killer App’s Tong. And so it goes. Organizer Sarah Keeler admits that the complicated interrelationships have something to do with the selection of artists. “Maia asked Jeremy, who introduced us to Zanna, who brought in Nick – you get the idea. Sometimes you realize that the world of alternative rock music just isn’t that big.” But the songs make this more than just a curiosity piece. The artists have all managed to give us versions that are true to their own styles, without butchering the material. Take Killer App’s ironic ‘Do You Believe in Magic?” Adam Leskar sings it as if he’s reminding himself to quit looking for anything in a young girl’s heart or other parts of her anatomy. Bliss backs ‘Take a Giant Step’ with their usual reverb guitar hooks, but Kelly Ross’ throaty vocals add a charge that the Monkees missed with the original. And Tech Diff’s combination of punk undertones and pop overlay works as well with Johnny Rivers’ song as it did for them on ‘Gone.’ Jump Cut gives both their vocalists an outing, with Matt Wilder’s raw edged voice adding both angst and sex appeal to what was once a fairly bland Grass Roots hit, ‘Walk a Million Miles.’ And Zanna Martin shows what she’s capable of achieving with ‘Downtown.’ While Jump Cut’s previous cover hit, ‘Taste the Pain’, was a catchy number that showed off her sensuality, ‘Downtown’ proves that Martin can really sing. Her voice alternately sails and whispers, and while Petula Clark’s downtown sounded like a nice place for shopping, Zanna’s is alive with hot energy, a place of pulsating life that like the singer herself, feels

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both beautiful and a little dangerous. Martin, who also co-produced (with Tom Scott) Sex Gun’s cover of ‘This Magic Moment,’ has a genius for bringing that hint of the dark side to previously innocuous pop songs. This is a girl who goes downtown looking for trouble or, at least, not afraid to find it. Under her direction, ‘Magic Moment’ is no longer a sweet song about a kiss. With Jeremy Kane doing the honors, it takes on an erotic edge that lets you know that kiss was just so much foreplay. Sex Gun’s characteristic strong rhythm section and the same spooky guitar riffs most recently heard on the ‘After the Hurricane” single work well here, and Kane, who could probably have the Alphabet Song sounding like it’s about sex, makes the most of his material. Buy it for the good cause. Buy it to sing along with in your car. Buy it to console yourself, when it’s Friday night and you’re at home alone. But buy it soon: it’s a limited edition, and it’s going to go fast.G G

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Chapter 30

Entertainment Now Fashion Frenzy …Let's face it, most female rockers have all the fashion sense of gerbils on acid (would someone please tell Courtney Love to quit with the décolletage, and what's with Sheryl Crow's pants) but Zanna Martin of Jump Cut is the happy exception to the rule. Shown here with Nick Tzezna (click here for picture) at the opening of the Rock Art exhibit at Metzger Galleries, she shows that's possible to sing down and dirty without having to look that way.G

To: Zanna From: Arik Re: your California trip

Hey, Z, Jeremy says you're gonna play with us - that's great! We're all really looking forward to it. Don't know if you've made arrangements, but I wanted to tell you that if you'd like to stay at my place, you're very welcome. Jill says if for some reason you don't want to, she would love to have you, also. And let us know what flight you're taking, and someone will meet you.

To: Arik From: Zanna Re: take two trip

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Arik, thanks, I think it probably would be easiest if I stayed at your house, for one thing, I'm going to need a lot of rehearsing, and it seems like some of you are usually around there. So I accept your invite with pleasure and gratitude.

Zanna was both excited and nervous about the trip to LA. She was sufficiently nonsocial that a date for a big function was a little scary anyway, and it was both better and worse that it was with Jeremy. And playing with Sex Gun! How wild was that. She had been so freaked out at Oceans that she barely remembered singing ‘If I Could’ with them…one way or another, this promised to be quite an event. She put some thought into the critical issue of What to Wear. A look through some magazines revealed most women at benefits wore designer numbers - lots of satin and beads. But you’d look stupid playing guitar in those evening gowns, she thought. Then there was the whole Jeremy thing to worry about, especially since they were both staying at Arik’s. Would he think that meant-? Did she? Did she want to? And if they did, where did that leave them? She was pretty sure by now that with Jeremy, it was bound to lead somewhere. He didn’t seem geared for one night stands, somehow. And the alternative seemed fraught with complications. It would have been bad enough with them both in bands. But with Jump Cut splitting up…long distance relationships sucked, she thought…oh, what was she thinking?! She was hopeless at relationships, period! And Jeremy was still Jeremy, as problematic as ever. It all kept going around in her head, right up to the time of her departure for LA, when she decided there was no point, and whatever happened, happened. Let the fates decide… She checked in at the counter, and asked the agent if she could take her guitar case on the plane as a carry on. She’d sent her Big Day Out luggage on to Hawaii already, and had only a small case, black leather daypack, and the guitar for this flight. The agent said, “You don’t need to check any of it, first class isn’t that full.” Zanna said, “Oh, but my ticket’s coach,” and the agent consulted her screen. “No, you were upgraded.” 278

Zanna wondered if Jeremy or Arik was responsible for that, but she wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth if it meant she didn’t have to wait at the baggage claim - and first class almost never had crying children in it, either. Disembarking at the unfortunately named LAX airport, she was looking vaguely for someone in a chauffeur’s uniform with a sign saying MARTIN, since that tended to be how they did things here, when she heard “Zanna! Hey!” and sweeping the arrival area, her eyes found Jeremy headed her way, smiling in welcome. And she was suddenly simply so glad to see him that it crowded out all of the lurking anxiety. He looked really different. He’d had a haircut for one thing. His dark hair was now conservatively short, which suited his angular face surprisingly well. More than that, though, he looked both relaxed and happy. The tension that was usually characteristic of him was missing. He took her guitar case with one hand, and pulled her close with the other, and kissed her. She hugged him, quick and hard, and still in the circle of his arm looked up at him. He was laughing a little, his teeth very white in his tanned face. Looking at him, close to her, warm, vital, real, she had a sudden realization. “I missed you,” she said. He could hear the surprise in her voice. He gave her another squeeze before letting her go. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” he told her. On the way to Arik’s, Jeremy went over the proposed setlist. “Magic Moment and Downtown, of course,” he said. “And A Hard Day’s Night, Summer in the City….” He rattled off half a dozen song titles. Zanna said faintly, “That’s a lot to learn in a couple of days.” Jeremy said serenely, “We can always tape cheat sheets to the floor of the stage.” She discovered that she needn’t have worried about any awkwardness over staying at Arik’s - the ambience was hectic and excited, not at all conducive to romantic byplay. Between the Take Two gig and the upcoming tour, there were all kinds of preparations in progress. Various members of the Sex Gun management team were coming and going, including Tanner Holt, their tour manager, and both Johnny and Daniel were spending most of their waking (and some unconscious) hours at the house.

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They had their first practice as soon as Zanna and Jeremy got back. For the next four hours, they worked steadily, until Zanna’s fingers hurt and her brain felt stuffed with lyrics and chords. Jeremy called a halt, finally. “Let’s take a break, and do another session this evening.” “What time?” asked Zanna. She wanted to go down to the beach. She noticed Daniel and Arik exchange a look, and Daniel said to him “You owe me.” He added cheerfully “Thanks, Zanna.” “What?” Johnny told her, “They had a bet, about you making us stick to a schedule.” Zanna said indignantly, “I only asked-“ but they were all grinning at her, and she shook her head in mock disgust. “And here I thought since you’re professionals of the highest caliber, you’d want to start on time. Silly of me.” Johnny remarked, “Notice how she throws in a gratuitous compliment so you can’t contradict her. Very slick,” and Zanna whacked him over the head with the guitar tab sheet for Hard Day’s Night. Jeremy seemed to have read her mind. “Surf’s low now, but we could go out tomorrow morning,” he said. She flashed him a smile. “That’d be great! But I’d still like to get a swim in now.” A thought struck her. “Oh drat! I don’t have a wetsuit here, or Kaoru’s board, for that matter.” More nonverbal communication amongst Sex Gun. “What?” asked Zanna, again. “Go look in your closet,” Jeremy told her. Puzzled, Zanna went back upstairs to her assigned bedroom. She opened the closet, where she had hastily stashed her dress earlier, and looked inside to find further down the rail, two wetsuits, one short and one long, both in her size. She turned to find Jeremy leaning in the doorway. She gave him a questioning look, and he said, “There’s more,” and led her out to the garage. From the back wall he picked up a surfboard and set it in front of her. “For you,” he said. She looked at it in wonder, and ran her hand along the smooth surface. The board was custom made, and beautifully crafted. It had been designed for a lightweight person, and as she lifted it, she

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marveled at the balance. She turned and looked at Jeremy, who was watching her with an odd expression. Anticipation and - what? Apprehension. She suddenly remembered the whole bus thing and understood. She was immeasurably touched by the trouble he’d taken. This board wasn’t anything you could buy off the rack, he must have ordered it some time ago. She said, “It’s - oh god, Jeremy, it’s just wonderful!” His face broke into a smile of relief, as she carefully leaned the board against the wall, and turned to him. She leaned over to kiss his cheek. “Thank you. Thank you so much.” He turned his head, and his mouth met hers, as his arms pulled her closer. And then the others were there, Johnny saying, “So, you like it?” and Arik grinning at her and saying, “Going to try it out tomorrow?” and she stepped back, laughing and said, “I can’t wait.” Jeremy said he’d take her down to the beach. “If you want to be alone, we can meet at the coffee bar later,” he told her. “That’ll work,” Zanna said. “If you’ve got stuff to do. But I don’t, particularly. Want to be alone, I mean. Well, I’m fine with it, but I don’t need-“ she stopped, getting muddled. Jeremy was grinning. “Good,” he said. “I’ll keep you company, then.” “Great,” she said, and meant it. They drove down not far from her old haunts by Tom’s guest house, parked, and walked along the beach a ways. Zanna decided to go in for a swim, Jeremy electing to stay on the shore. Even though it had been a warm winter so far, the chill level of the Pacific was enough to keep him out except for surfing. “Don’t stay in too long, it’s cold,” he told her. As was her custom for exercise swimming, she was wearing a one piece racing suit instead of a wetsuit. It was cold, but it felt good all the same. Zanna swam beyond the breakers, then turned parallel to the shore. She swam a couple hundred yards, then turned back the other way, doing laps in open water. Jeremy sat down on the beach to wait for her. He had his notebook, and he got it out now and started writing, occasionally

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glancing at the water to check on Zanna. He wasn’t concerned about her, really, she was a very strong swimmer and the water was quiet. It was so incredibly good to see her again, he mused. When he had first caught sight of her at the airport, he had felt this lift, as though his heart, or soul, or whatever it was that held your most fundamental feelings, had wings. And she seemed different, somehow. A little softer around the edges, maybe. Not quite as prickly. He looked over some of what he’d written in the past few months. She was in most of it, one way or another. He remembered a comment someone had made a while back, that Jeremy Kane appeared to have traded one addiction for another. It had felt like that, at times, when he wanted her so desperately, it was like a physical pain. But now, it was different. It felt, oddly enough, like they were moving full circle, and coming back to where they had been that first night, caught up in the magic of getting to know each other. He glanced out at the water, saw that she had started back in. And high time, he thought, realizing in surprise they’d been there for some thirty minutes. She swam with the waves, then stood up as it got shallow, staggering a little in the foamy surf. He admired her slender shape, and noticed with relief that she wasn’t skeletally thin any more. She came up to him, dripping and shaking herself off like a dog. He rose and dropped a towel around her shoulders. She clutched it, saying, “That felt wonderful!” She was shivering, although she didn’t seem to notice. She went on “This is the best thing about LA,” as Jeremy briskly rubbed her down. “You got too cold, didn’t you?” he scolded her, and she said “You don’t feel it while you’re swimming,” but her teeth were starting to chatter. He stripped off his sweatshirt and made her put it on. They went back to the house, and Jeremy towed Zanna into his room, since it had a deep bathtub while hers had only a shower. He turned the taps on, and said, “Get in and get warm, before hypothermia sets in. I’ll bring you something hot to drink,” and went out. He microwaved some chai he’d picked up in preparation for her visit, and went back to his bathroom. The door was ajar; he hesitated, then tapped on it. She said, “You can come in.”

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She’d added bath salts to the water, and was lying submerged in the foam, eyes closed. The shivering had subsided, he noticed with some relief. “Here you go,” he said, holding out the mug. Her eyes opened and she reached for it, her arm wet and dotted with bubbles. Jeremy resolutely kept his eyes on her face, and, since she didn’t seem to mind his being there, sat down on the floor next to the bath. “How are you doing?” he asked. “Fine, thanks.” She sipped the chai, and added, “Mmm, this is good.” She smiled at him, knowing that it wasn’t something normally found in Arik’s household. He reached out and smoothed her damp hair, resting his hand for a moment against her cheek. “You do worry me sometimes, you know,” he told her. “I don’t mean to,” she said truthfully. “Yeah, I know. Miss Oblivious.” She shrugged, and in spite of himself, Jeremy’s eyes wandered down her bare shoulders. He felt a sharp tug of desire, and a kaleidoscope of memories spun unbidden through his mind; her wet, slick body against his in the shower, making out with her backstage at Oceans, making love to her the night they met…he wanted to take his clothes off and join her, feel her next to him, on him, under him… With an effort, he said, “Keep running more hot water in if you have to, until you’re completely warmed up, okay?” and he got to his feet and went out. Zanna, a little surprised at his abrupt departure, drank her tea thoughtfully. When she was dry and dressed, she went to the den, where Jeremy was stretched on the couch, reading. “Hey,” he said, looking up. “You hungry?” “Starved,” she admitted. “Swimming always does it to me.” She balanced on the arm of the couch, down by his bare feet, and regarded him. The way he was holding the book, she had a perfect view of the wave tattoos on the backs of his forearms. He hadn’t bothered to replace the sweatshirt he’d given her at the beach, and she had to suppress an urge to stretch out too, right on top of him. Fortunately he sat up then, and said, “In, or out?” “What?” Patiently he said, “Dinner. Food. You want to eat here, or go

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somewhere?” “Oh! Anything’s fine with me. Whatever’s easiest.” She was a little flustered. He got up, uncoiling in a single easy movement, and said, “I’ll make us something, then. Come keep me company.” She followed him into the kitchen, asking, “You can cook?” She sounded skeptical; one didn’t readily associate culinary skills with Jeremy. “Yes, I can cook,” he said, a little amused. “Chicken okay?” “Sure.” She seated herself at the marble counter and watched curiously as he assembled ingredients and set about competently dicing shallots. He said, “So, are you looking forward to Big Day Out?” “Mmm, we all are. Tell me more about it.” He took out a skillet, added olive oil to it. “It’s kind of like the Australian Reading,” he said, referring to the big English rock festival, “but with more shows, more locations, and better weather.” “Well, I’ve never been to that one either,” she said with a laugh. “Oh. Yeah, I guess you wouldn’t have. Well, okay. It’s like a big, traveling rock carnival. There are several stages, and a dance tent, and almost a whole, mobile town. Even backstage is like its own little community. Canteen, press area, that sort of thing.” He dredged chicken breasts in a mixture of flour and herbs, and put them to sizzle in the skillet. He continued, “It’s summer camp for rock bands, basically.” “Sounds fun.” “Yeah.” He looked up with a quick smile. “It will be.” He flipped the chicken over, and made a salad of spinach, mango and strawberries, with a balsamic vinaigrette. Who knew, thought Zanna, impressed. He got out plates and silverware, and said, “Let’s fix it here and eat out by the pool.” She nodded, still bemused by this unsuspected domestic side of his. He asked her, “What do you want to drink? Wine? Water, diet coke?” “Water’s fine, thanks.” She certainly wasn’t going to dare anything alcoholic, or she wouldn’t have bet a dime on her chances of staying out of his bed. It was a nice evening, softly warm, especially welcome to Zanna after the chill of Minnesota. The dinner was excellent, and she said

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as much to Jeremy, who grinned. “You don’t have to sound so surprised,” he told her. She said, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to! It’s just that I wouldn’t have thought cooking was your thing, somehow.” He smiled lazily. “I’m full of hidden talents.” “Really? Like what?” she asked. He laughed. “Nothing very useful,” he admitted. “Dirt bike racing and climbing rocks don’t have much everyday application.” He added “It’s lucky I made it in music - I suspect I’m none too employable, otherwise. Not like you, the multiple career girl.” Not that it did her much good, thought Zanna, who still hadn’t come to terms with Jump Cut’s impending demise. They’d agreed that Big Day Out would be their swan song, except for perhaps a final Twin Cities show, and Zan supposed she’d be going back to the university. She looked down, playing with her fork. With the exception of Nick, and Rachel of course, no one outside their immediate circle knew yet. She felt an impulse to tell Jeremy now, but this – this bond between them seemed too new, and fragile… He reached across and his hand covered hers, stilling her fidgeting. She looked up, and saw his expression was serious. He said, in the carefully neutral tone that she was learning meant something mattered to him, “Can I ask you something, Z?” She nodded. “Is that one of the things that bothers you about me?” Zanna was confused. “That you’re into sort of hazardous activities?” “No, that-“ He hesitated. “That you’re very well educated, and I’m a high school dropout. That you’ve had a grown-up career, and I haven’t. That sort of thing.” How absolutely weird, she thought, none of this had ever occurred to her. But he was serious. She felt that odd little surge of tenderness towards him, and she turned her hand over to hold his. She told him “I can honestly say that none of that has ever been of any concern to me, whatsoever.” She smiled warmly at him, and said softly, “It does matter to me that you’re intelligent, and you read, and you think. That’s what counts, not how many diplomas you can line up on a wall.” “Thanks.”

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Zanna laughed then, and he looked enquiring. “Oh, I was just thinking how it’s funny,” she said, “that we all have our own realities, and sometimes there’s this huge gap between them.” “Yeah?” “Like none of that ever occurred to me as being a potential issue between us. But after I met you-“ she rolled her eyes, mocking herself, “ I kept thinking why the hell would he be interested in me?” Jeremy said, “No one else found it at all surprising. Why would you?” “Because…well, I sort of hate to point it out, but you know, I’m not exactly what you’re used to. I’m not young and beautiful, not a glamorous actress or model or anything.” He sat back, regarding her with a slight frown. Then he shook his head. “You’re right,” he told her. “That’s a very, very major gap.” They heard sounds from inside the house then, a clash of cymbals, and the low throb of Arik’s bass. “Time to go to work,” remarked Jeremy.

Zanna woke up early, with a sense of anticipation. Stretching, she remembered why…this was California, surf instead of snow. She grabbed her watch off the nightstand. Late enough to get up, early enough to beat the rush, she thought. She slipped quickly into some clothes, and went out to the kitchen. She made coffee, had a quick mugful, and poured another one for Jeremy. She went to his room, knocked on the door, and heard an indistinguishable sound. She chose to take it as “come in,” and opened the door. He was in bed, not moving. She set the coffee down, and shook him gently. “Hey,” she said. “Time to get up, if we’re going surfing.” Arik, awake and headed for the kitchen, was surprised by the open door and glanced in. Then he grinned. Zanna was sitting cross- legged on the bed; Jeremy was still an inert pile of covers. She appeared to be coaxing him awake. They were definitely making progress, he thought, if she was comfortable in that situation. Not that Jeremy would be much threat to a woman first thing in the morning; he moved way too slowly…

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Still smiling, Arik continued on to the kitchen, where he found Johnny, drinking coffee and reading the paper. “Did you spend the night here?” asked Arik. He’d lost track of who was there when he went to bed. “Naw. Just got here. Thought I’d go surfing with Jeremy and Z,” the drummer said. “You think they want company?” Arik poured himself some coffee. “Yeah, I think the band thing is working for them right now. She’s used to hanging out with a bunch of guys, and she’s getting used to us, too. Easier than being alone together too much,” said Johnny shrewdly. Arik sat down at the table, and said, “I like that about her. I mean, she’s not like one of the guys, but then again she is, you know what I mean?” “Yeah. She’s easy to have around.” Johnny grinned. “But I gotta say, from where I sit? when’s she’s playing with us, the view is much better.” Arik said in tones of mock insult, “You saying she has a better ass than I do?” “No doubt about it, sorry, bud.” Zanna herself walked in then, trailed by a yawning Jeremy. Remarkable, thought Arik, that had taken her only a matter of minutes to accomplish. Jeremy collapsed in the chair next to Arik, as Zanna refilled his mug and poured one for herself. Johnny said, “Ready to christen that board?” She gave a radiant smile, and replied “Am I ever.” She boosted herself up on the counter, swinging her legs and saying “That’s been one of the hardest things about being back in Minnesota. I miss the ocean like crazy.” Arik noticed Jeremy watching her contemplatively. Zanna and Johnny were discussing where to go, and agreeing that they could sandwich another surf jaunt in between band practices. Arik wondered if the rest of Jump Cut would have a problem with relocating on the West Coast. He had a feeling it wasn’t going to be long before their lead singer had another reason, besides missing the ocean, for needing to be there.

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Chapter 31

Jeremy had already observed something odd about Zanna: in purely social situations, she was shy. It struck him as pretty funny, because when it came to performing, or interviews, or any kind of professionally related activity, she was confident and outgoing, often displaying a kind of breezy poise. Likewise, she was perfectly comfortable in chance met encounters, whether with strangers or with people she knew. Put her next to anyone, at the beach, in a coffee line, at the studio, and she had no problem carrying on a conversation. She also didn’t act any differently with the people who ran the corner grocery store than she did with people who were famous, something Jeremy loved about her. But she tended to avoid what you might call structured social interaction, and when she was in those situations, you always had that sense that she was poised for flight. It made Jeremy feel quite privileged to be escorting her to the Take Two event and also somewhat protective of her. He was aware that she viewed making an appearance as sort of an obligation to the animal cause, but he really wanted her to have a good time. Jeremy himself, strangely enough, rather enjoyed these kinds of charity bashes. Unlike many who would be in attendance, his career didn’t depend on being nice to the right people, or on generating free publicity – Sex Gun was too well established to need to do that, and they had never really bothered anyway. Since Jeremy didn't much care what others thought of him personally, he didn’t feel obliged to talk to anyone who bored him, and so he either had fun at parties, or left them quickly. Of course, Take Two was a hybrid event for them, half

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party and half gig. He thought Zanna was probably looking forward more to the latter. Their last practice had been stellar.

After paging despairingly through the pages of Entertainment Now, Zanna had decided it was hopeless for her to attempt to emulate the look of Hollywood glitterati. No way was she going to wear a dress she might fall out of, or shoes she couldn’t walk in, and hairspray made her sneeze. So she had finally gone to a funky little boutique near where she lived, and the owner had made something up for her. Zanna liked her outfit because it was comfortable and easy to move in, and she thought she looked pretty good in it. But when she walked into Arik’s living room, where everyone had congregated, conversation ceased abruptly. She was, in fact, breathtaking. Her black dress was highnecked, sleeveless, and had a zigzag hemline which was slashed to the thigh in places and reached her ankle in others. She paired it with black fishnets and a higher heeled, less chunky version of her usual lace up boots. Her streaky gold hair fell loosely past her shoulders, her eyes were made up to look dark and smoky, and her mouth was a lush crimson. She looked beautiful, and maybe a little dangerous. Uniquely Zanna, thought Jeremy with an inward smile. Daniel said “Wow” and Johnny gave a short whistle of appreciation. Jill said, "Fabulous dress,” and Johnny’s date, a model named Sharona, asked “Paris?” with a professionally assessing look. Zanna laughed. “St. Paul,” she answered. “As in Minnesota.” As they walked out to the limos, Jeremy said to her, “You are completely stunning, Z.” “Thank you,” she said demurely. “You’re rather beautiful yourself.” It was true, she thought, although he looked somewhat like a handsome stranger, what with the precision haircut, and being uncharacteristically clad in charcoal Armani. Then he smiled at her, the chipped tooth giving his grin that slightly lopsided quality, and he looked the way he did when a song came right, or when they were staggering out of the surf together, and she felt for the first time that this party might even be fun.

The event was being held at a glossy and very trendy nightclub, and it was packed. Maia greeted them effusively, her face alight with

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the success of her party. She said to Zanna, “So what do you think? How do you like the haircut?” nodding at Jeremy. Zanna laughed, and answered, “It’s nice. But he always looks great,” and Maia rolled her eyes and said, “You two obviously belong together.” Jeremy remarked “I’ve been saying that for months, but no one pays attention to me,” and was gratified when he caught Zanna’s eye and she smiled, a little shyly. This was one occasion when she was actually grateful for Jeremy’s space invading technique. He had always, since she first met him, made a practice of standing or sitting closer to her than was customarily acceptable. But he had been right on target in judging her level of social comfort, and somehow she was finding his nearness reassuring now. The light touch of his hand on her back, the brush of his arm against hers, combined to make her feel more at ease. Jeremy himself was rather surprisingly sociable, she thought. He seemed to know many of the guests. They circulated through the party, Jeremy introducing Zanna to a lot of people (and frequently murmuring entertaining, if possibly libelous, comments as they moved on) who seemed thrilled to meet her. Zanna put this down to kissy face Hollywood artifice, until Jeremy remarked, “Isn’t it funny how many celebrities are also star struck rock music fans? I think most movie stars secretly want to be in bands,” and Zanna laughed and said, “And lots of music people want to be in the movies!” “Grass is always greener, et cetera. Me, I think making videos is bad enough. I’d never want Kaoru’s gig.” “Speaking of, is he here?” “Oh yeah. You’re not going to desert me for him, are you?” “Not this time,” she said, slipping her hand into his. Jeremy was thoroughly enjoying himself. He was not above reveling in the normal male pride of being with a striking woman who was drawing considerable attention, and for him, being anywhere with Zanna was a treat to begin with. To know that she was going to be leaving with him gave him a rare sense of security, a luxury generally lacking in their relationship. And while she was usually accepting of, and even occasionally responsive to, his physical gestures of affection, she rarely initiated any. So feeling her fingers curling around his gave him a warm little glow.

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There was some potential awkwardness when they encountered Jaime Cage, Jeremy’s former girlfriend. She was dressed in pink satin Valentino and wore staggeringly high stiletto heels that caused her to clutch her date’s arm. He was a young television actor from a popular series, and he seemed disposed to be friendly. Zanna eyed Jaime warily and was glad to see she didn’t have a drink in her hand. But Jaime was very much on her dignity, saying hello to them in glacially polite tones, while her date told Zanna that he loved the video for ‘Downtown.’ Then he seemed to realize, as Jaime looked daggers at him, that this was the wrong thing to say, and hastily recognized someone across the way who they simply had to say hello to. Jeremy was amused. “She’s learning,” he remarked. “She picked a much more tractable one this time.” Zanna was having a hard time imagining Jeremy with the young model. What on earth had they talked about? She couldn’t picture it at all, so she asked him. “I don’t know, either,” he admitted. “I’m not sure we did talk. To be honest, I don’t think I was aware that relationships with women could include actual companionship, until I met you.” He grinned at her. “Of course, Maia says I like being with you because I get to do the same stuff I do with Arik, namely play music and surf.” Zanna laughed. “Nothing wrong with that,” she said. “Although there are some major differences,” he continued, his arm sliding around her waist. “I almost never do this with Arik,” here he brushed his lips across her cheek, and licked her ear, “or this,” as he kissed her. And Zanna knew a sudden insane desire to ditch the party and find out what else he didn’t do with Arik. Fortunately, since she had previously resolved that she should stay out of that particular situation until she had a better grasp on how much she was willing to commit to the relationship, Jeremy kissed the tip of her nose and drew back, saying casually “I suppose this isn’t really the time or place.” But she was unable to keep herself from thinking, too bad, and she took herself sternly to task, with a mental reminder that she’d better quit thinking about that. Jeremy smiled at her as though he could read her thoughts, and Zanna felt the heat rise in her cheeks. She hastily looked away, and

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was glad to hear a familiar voice say “Hey, Zanna,” from behind her. She turned to find Nick Tzezna and the lead player from Tech Diff, Tim Danna, and greeted them in some relief. They both kissed her lightly, and shook hands with Jeremy, who, Zanna noticed gratefully, looked perfectly friendly. “Are you playing tonight?” Tim asked her. “I haven’t seen the rest of your band.” “They couldn’t make it,” she said, and Jeremy added, “So she’s playing with us.” Tim started to laugh. “Sex Gun with a girl? Now there’s a switch.” Jeremy grinned. “But we’re so much more evolved now,” he said. “Soundline said so. How about you? Are you guys part of the line up?” “We’re the acoustic interlude,” said Nick. “Since the rest of us apparently got snowed in back in Toronto. We’re going to pretend we’re on ‘Storytellers.’” “Yeah? You actually got a story?” “Not much of one,” admitted Nick. “Same as yours, I expect.” He mimicked talking into a microphone. “We recorded this next song, because Zanna Martin said hey, do this, it’s for a good cause. And we can’t say no to Zanna, so we did it.” Jeremy remarked affably, “At least Sex Gun got a video out of it,” and Nick retorted, “Don’t remind me.” Tim asked Jeremy about a mutual friend then, and Nick turned to Zanna and said, “Hey, gorgeous. How are you doing, anyway?” She said, “Tonight, wonderfully well, thanks!” “I’m glad,” he told her. Softly he asked, “Made any plans yet?” Her eyes telegraphed a warning, as she said casually “Not really.” Nick shook his head, but he got the message. He said only “Call me if you need to talk,” and she replied warmly, “I will, thanks.” Then she noticed Jeremy giving them a considering look, and she asked Nick hastily “So what are you playing tonight?” and the conversation once again was four way, as they all compared notes on the challenges of trying to make covers sound new without being contrived.

Zanna had a moment of complete unreality as she stood with Sex

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Gun just offstage. This was nothing like going on with Jump Cut – they were her band, familiar and dear, the only people she’d ever played with, prior to her acquaintance with Jeremy. They all felt like coconspirators pulling something off. They still occasionally got the giggles right before going on – they couldn’t believe that people actually paid money to see them. Sex Gun, on the other hand, exuded a confidence that might have bordered on arrogance, had they not been so casual about it. This was something they’d been doing for over fifteen years; they both took it seriously, and knew they did it well. Zanna had seen their pre-concert ritual on the east coast tour- just before going on, they smacked their fists one against the other, in a kind of chain reaction. And even though this was hardly your usual Sex Gun outing, apparently old habits died hard. Arik said “Okay, then,” and brought his hand down on Jeremy’s. Jeremy turned to Daniel, next to him, and Daniel in turn hit his fist lightly against Zanna’s, giving her his sweet smile. Zanna, a little bemused, but getting with the program, smacked her fist down on Johnny’s. The drummer quirked an eyebrow, grinned, and said “Rock on,” and then the lights were down and they moved onstage. Arik and Jeremy had told Maia, who was acting as emcee, to dispense with an introduction, deciding that the unorthodox lineup made it either awkward or unwieldy. “We’ll announce ourselves by just playing,” Arik said. They had also decided to have Jeremy and Zanna switch off on vocals and guitar. Zanna hadn't had much practice singing without her guitar, and she hoped she wouldn’t come across as stiff and boring, but thought next to Jeremy, she probably would. They were opening with Hard Day’s Night though, with Jeremy on lead vocals, so Zanna accepted her Strat from a crew member and moved to her assigned microphone, near the front of the stage. She and Jeremy had argued over this placement at the brief rehearsal; she would have been happier more toward the back where she could easily watch Daniel and Arik, but she was overruled by the rest of the band. “Like it or not, Z, people want to watch you, and we’re in the entertainment business,” Johnny told her. Daniel reminded her, “You don’t have to stay put. Move up front for the vocals, but drop back if you want to for the breaks.”

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“I’m afraid I’m going to forget stuff,” Zanna admitted, a little concerned. In practice, she most often took her cues from Daniel. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on you,” said Daniel. “But you’ll do fine.” “Jeremy’s more likely to space out and miss his part,” remarked Arik. Jeremy laughed and said, “At least this time I already know she’s here.” Johnny said sternly “Well, if you start making out onstage again, I’m throwing a drumstick at you,” making Zanna blush. Jeremy said cheerfully, “We can wait.” He had been in a sunny mood ever since Zanna’s arrival. The rest of the band was used to the lead singer’s usually moody temperament; this uncharacteristic lightheartedness was unexpected but welcome. It had caused Arik to wonder a little about what Jeremy might have been like had he grown up differently, but Jeremy was who he was, whatever the reason. And whether it was due to his being in love with Zanna, or some belated maturity, whatever, he was undeniably easier to get along with these days, and Arik hoped it lasted through the New Year. Now, Arik looked over at Zanna, smiling at the way she slung the strap of her Stratocaster over her shoulder, and tossed back her hair. From Jeremy’s hot date to thoroughly professional rocker, in the blink of an eye. He liked her cool, almost cocky stage persona – she could hold her own with Sex Gun easily, he thought. She glanced across at him, nodded her readiness, and Arik ran his eyes over the rest of his band, then said in a low, rapid voice “onetwothreefour!” and they were off and running.

When Zanna looked back on it later, much of the set would be a blur. She didn’t forget any lyrics, or screw up anything that mattered. She had a blast sharing vocals with Jeremy on ‘Summer in the City’ and ‘Hard Days Night.’ When she sang lead, she discovered it was no problem after all, to pick up the microphone and cover the stage. It helped that she had friends in the audience – she flirted her way through ‘Downtown,’ playing alternately to both Nick and Kaoru. Jeremy gave her a little anxiety by sliding up behind her during Magic Moment’s break, and briefly nuzzling her neck as his hands moved over her hips, but she steadfastly concentrated on the chords and pretty much ignored him, which

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made him laugh, and which the audience seemed to find vastly entertaining. They had meant to finish with ‘Breathless’ but as it came to a close, Maia came onstage and said into her emcee’s mike “I’ve got a request for one more song.” She went on, “Let’s have ‘If I Could.’” Jeremy looked surprised, then he said slowly, “Well, I guess this Take Two thing is about getting a second chance…which is a good thing, whether you’re a dog or a person, and it’s kind of what that song is about, so-” He looked over at Zanna, and jerked his head. She hesitated, and he said, still into the mike, “C’mon, Z, I’m not doing it without you.” The crowd made an “oooh” noise, and he grinned, and told them, “Hey, it’s our first date, after all.” Zanna, trying to look calm but aware that the telltale color was once again tinting her cheekbones (did Jeremy ever have any inhibitions?) as she handed her guitar to a roadie, walked out to join him at center stage. Jeremy reached out and took her hand, interlacing his fingers in hers, and they did the whole song that way; together, slow, sweet, strong. At the end, they bowed to a standing ovation, still holding hands, and Jeremy said to the audience, “Thank you – that’s it for us,” and led Zanna off. As they left the stage, Jeremy murmured, “In deference to Johnny’s sensibilities,” and pulled her back into the wings, and into his arms. Something about the adrenaline of performing, the closeness he felt to her when they did that song, the chemistry between them and the amount of time he’d waited was having a powerful effect. He kissed her and the rest of the world ceased to exist. She returned it and then some, warmly responsive, and he held her and wanted to never let her go. Daniel and Johnny, following them off the stage, exchanged a look. “You think it’ll wear off eventually?” asked Daniel, as the two singers remained locked in a passionate embrace, oblivious to their surroundings. “For their sake, I hope not,” said Johnny, adding “Although I guess it could be something of an issue. I mean, we don’t want Jeremy getting arrested for going back for an encore with a-” “Knock it off, you two,” said Arik, from behind them. “She’s got her own band, you know.” He moved around them, and putting a

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hand on Jeremy’s shoulder, he said to them severely, “We just can’t take you anywhere.” Zanna gave him a dazed look, and Jeremy said only, “Go away.” It was Adam Leskar who broke the mood however, drawling, “Oh isn’t this sweet,” as he waited for Killer App, who were playing next, to take the stage. Zanna said coolly, “Hello, Adam,” as she slipped out of Jeremy’s grasp and moved away with Johnny and Daniel. Jeremy turned to Adam and said conversationally, “Since my date would probably be pissed if I wound up in jail tonight, I’m going to let this opportunity pass – but if you make one more disrespectful remark about her, I’ll kill you.” He went to join the others, Zanna giving him a questioning look, but he just laughed and tousled her hair. Adam remarked plaintively to no one in particular, “When did I ever?” and his drummer shrugged and said, “Jeremy always was a bad tempered sonofabitch.” Zanna was full of nervous exhilaration, a combination of performance high, a measure of relief that it was over, and arousal from the brief backstage interlude with Jeremy. She was also realizing that she should have done a better job of sorting out her feelings before now – she didn’t know how to handle this. She didn’t even know what she was doing with her life, how was she supposed to figure out what to do with him? She could practically hear Matt saying “Talk to him, it’s his life, too,” but that would mean making some very difficult disclosures… Jeremy apparently sensed her turmoil. He drew her aside from the others. “You okay, Z?” She nodded. Her vocal cords seemed to be paralyzed. He was looking down at her thoughtfully. He said, “Pretty good set, huh?” She nodded again. “I like performing with you,” he told her. “Me, too,” she managed. “You want to tell me why you’re kind of weirded out?” he asked. Zanna made a little choking noise; she was not ready for this. Jeremy said, “Okay, why don’t you nod if I’m getting warm. It seems to me like things have been pretty good, with us, since you got here.” She nodded. He continued, “But just now, maybe it felt like I

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was gonna take things a little further than you’re ready to go?” She said, almost inaudibly, “Right.” He smiled at her. “It’s okay,” he said. “Nothing has to happen now. I can’t tell you how nice it’s been being able to spend some time with you. I don’t want to screw it up by being too pushy. So just let me know if I should back off, okay?” Zanna was touched by this consideration, but she also felt that Jeremy wasn’t perfectly understanding the problem. She really, really wanted to make love with him. Every cell in her body was ready to merge with his. She had already discovered, after the first time with him, that breaking the celibacy habit was like opening Pandora’s box – once you did it, there was no hope of cramming all those feelings inside again. Well. She could take the easy out he was giving her, or- She sighed. “You probably aren’t going to believe this,” she told him. “But I think we need to talk.” Jeremy’s eyes were intent. She added, “But not now. Let’s just enjoy the rest of the party, okay?” “This is your call,” he said. “But I thought you had to leave pretty early in the morning.” “I do,” she said. She looked at his serious expression, warm with concern, trying to understand for her sake, and she thought god, he really does try, and what do I give him in return? Not much…oh, it was all so confusing… She said abruptly, “You want to dance?”

So they did, through the rest of Killer App’s set (which was really good, thought Zanna, pity they were such delinquents) and through Nick and Tim’s stint as an acoustic duo. Nick did an achingly beautiful version of “Stand by Me” which reminded both of them of the club in Pennsylvania. This time, though, they just danced. Jeremy was very conscious of not seeming overly aggressive, and Zanna didn’t want to start something she couldn’t finish. Then the ‘house’ band came on and Kaoru was taking Zanna by the hand and saying, “Jeremy’s monopolized you enough. My turn.” Zanna danced with him, with Nick, and with the other members of Sex Gun. It was lighthearted fun, and Zanna enjoyed herself immensely. And suddenly it was later (or earlier, depending on how you

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looked at it) than she would have believed possible, and she knew a kinship with Cinderella, who had a lot of awkward explaining to do herself, and no time to deal with it. She said as much to Jeremy, as they left the club. He laughed, but held her hand tightly as he said, “If you leave me for a pumpkin, Z, I’ll be seriously pissed at you.” She shook her head and said “No pumpkin. Only United Airlines,” as they slid into the limo. They were quiet initially on the ride back to Arik’s, although Arik and Jill, with whom they shared the limo, were lively enough. Zanna leaned against Jeremy, resting her head on his shoulder, only half listening to the others talk about the party. It wasn’t until Arik glanced her way and said to Jeremy, “So, did you ask her?” and Jeremy replied, “Oh fuck, I completely forgot!” that she roused and said, “Ask me what?” “Well,” said Jeremy, seemingly unable to figure out where to start. He looked at Arik. “Your turn,” he said. Arik said, “What do you mean, my turn? You didn’t say anything, yet!” and Jeremy told him, “You’re better at this stuff.” Arik said, “Well, christ, Jeremy, she’s your date!” and Jeremy said, “What’s that got to do with it?” Zanna listened to all this in amazement, and Jill, who was more used to how Sex Gun interacted, rolled her eyes and said to Zanna, “They want to ask you about Big Day Out.” There was sudden silence. Zanna said, puzzled, “What about it?” Jeremy and Arik once again exchanged you go, no you go, noises, then finally Jeremy said, “We were wondering if you might be willing to play a couple of numbers with Sex Gun.” Zanna was dumbfounded. “What?” Arik said hastily, “Not every time. I mean, we’re not expecting you to play your set, and ours. Maybe, you know, just a few of the shows. Just a handful of songs. Kind of like tonight. Daniel started it,” he added. “But why?” asked Zanna, totally not getting this. “Because it would be fun,” Jeremy told her. “We could do some of the new stuff, like Chemistry and Dark Angel, since we’ve been practicing them anyway. And Daniel really wants to do a couple of our older ones, that have double guitar parts, that we almost never play live.” Zanna said, “If you’re looking for a spare guitar player, you

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could do a lot better than me,” and Arik said, “Not really.” He smiled at Zanna, and went on, “Sure, there are people with more technical proficiency, but not many with your kind of feel for music,” and Jeremy added dryly, “And even fewer who are willing to put up with us.” Zanna said, trying to keep a grasp on reality, “I don’t see how we’d have any time to rehearse,” and Jeremy said, “You wouldn’t need much for the new ones, we’ve all played those enough. The others, we can fit in some practice early in the tour. We’ve got some days off, and after tonight,” here he smiled, "we know you're a quick study." “This is all provided your band is okay with it,” said Arik. “We don’t mean to seem like we’re horning in on their territory. It’s just that since you’ve been collaborating with Jeremy anyway, and one way or another playing with us quite a bit….” He smiled at her. “It would be fun.” “Besides,” said Jeremy. “We could do ‘Magic Moment.’” He grinned at her, and Zanna, remembering, said, “What did you think you were doing, I almost went completely blank-” and he laughed and said, “Sorry, Z, couldn’t resist.” “Well, you’d better stay the hell away from me, if you expect me to keep my place-” She broke off as Arik and Jeremy exchanged high fives. “So you’ll do it?” asked Arik. What am I getting into, thought Zanna, dizzily. She slanted a sideways look at Jeremy, next to her. He had that very still, watchful look, with a carefully noncommittal expression that somehow told her that this was something he badly wanted. It didn’t make any sense to her, at all. And little did they know her musical career was about to come to a grinding halt, anyway. On the other hand – what a note to end on. Playing with the headliners. Playing with flipping Sex Gun, for crying out loud, at a huge festival. Sheesh. She knew Jump Cut would egg her on all the way. They’d love it….what the hell. “I’m in,” she said.

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Chapter 32

It was almost dawn when Jeremy and Zanna went down to the beach. Once more changed into casual clothes, with Zanna wearing one of his sweatshirts for warmth in the early morning chill, they walked barefoot in the sand. Jeremy took her hand and it felt natural and familiar to her now. “Good morning for surfing,” she said wistfully, looking out at the water. They had gone the last two mornings, and she had loved it. Jeremy said, “Sometimes other things are more important.” As they walked on, slowly in the deep sand, he reminded her “You wanted to talk.” “Not exactly ‘want,’” she said honestly. As usual, she was having trouble finding words. It was amazing, she thought, that she was so completely fluent in a courtroom or classroom, and so stumbling and incoherent when it came to the personal. Jeremy was trying to help. “About us?” he asked. “Mmm.” “Okay – maybe you could elaborate on that one, just a little?” Zanna gave a tiny giggle at that, and Jeremy dropped her hand and hugged her. He said, into her hair, “C’mon, Z, give me a clue here.” She wound her arms around his waist, and said, “A lot of the time I’m with you, I feel like you’re about five chapters further along than I am.” He thought about that. “Same book, though?” he asked. “I guess so. But how do I know, I’m way behind.” “Yeah, okay. I can see what you mean.” He did, too. While he’d known almost instantly that she was what he wanted, she had obviously struggled with the idea of being with him. “I’m sorry,” he

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added. “You don’t need to be. That’s not what I meant. I just wanted you to know…I mean, I know I seem really slow on the uptake sometimes…” “That’s okay,” he told her. “You’re entitled to take things at your pace, you know.” He paused. “What else?” She said, her voice hesitant, “When I met you, I didn’t realize who you were.” “Yeah, Kaoru said something like that.” He added dryly, “I gather you weren’t too thrilled to find out?” He felt her stiffen, and she pulled away from him. “I’m sorry!” he said hastily. “I didn’t mean it like that.” He fell into step beside her. “But you know, Zanna,” he said softly, “You actually did wake up with the same man you went to bed with.” “I hurt you, didn’t I? By leaving like that.” “Yes.” “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.” “I know. It’s okay. I’m getting over it,” he said. Zanna absently slid her hand into his again, as she said, “I know it sounds stupid. I mean, we do Sex Gun songs, and before we left for the MTV thing, Andy had a party to celebrate our making the cut. He had a bunch of those Behind the Music things looping on a VCR, including yours. But I didn’t really watch it. I never paid much attention to the people in the bands, you know? Just the music. I mean, I probably couldn’t have picked Anthony Kiedis or Flea out of a lineup either.” She gave a little chuckle, and added “At least, not without the socks.” Jeremy laughed. “That would be distinctive,” he agreed. She continued, “And since that show was done, you’d cut your hair, and you were wearing a shirt that night so the artwork didn’t show, and you looked pretty different than you do in videos, or on album covers. I just never put together a guy named Jeremy, playing a guitar at a party, with Sex Gun’s notorious singer.” “And when you did, you were horrified to discover you’d slept with a junkie felon who has a terrible reputation with women?” “Well, yes. But not quite in the way you probably thought.” This was getting to the hard part. She said, “I mean, sure, it occurred to me that you weren’t exactly a partner who qualified as

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safe sex, which was kind of worrisome-” “Yeah, I’m sorry I didn’t think of that sooner-” “And I vaguely knew you were involved with someone – they made a big deal about it, in that video- and that made me feel crummy-” “We didn’t really get much chance to talk about those things.” Jeremy looked at her, and said quietly, “Zanna, I knew about five minutes after laying eyes on you, that I was going to do anything to get to know you. That no one else I’d ever known mattered the way you did.” She said, “You’re so weird, Jeremy,” but she squeezed his hand affectionately. “But beyond that, the problem wasn’t really you, it was me.” She took a deep breath. “I don’t know, if Matt said anything to you…” She gave him a questioning look. Jeremy said, “He told me you had a problem with commitment. That you’d been pretty much avoiding relationships, avoiding men. He didn’t say why.” She was having trouble getting the next part out, her tongue actually felt thick and in the way of the words. But at this point, he had to know. Because in fact, there was a very real basis for her paranoia, for what Jeremy had once termed her commitment phobia. She said baldly, “A few years ago, I was seriously involved with someone. He killed himself.” “Oh, christ, Zanna. God. I am so sorry.” Jeremy saw her bite her lip, saw the same stark pain he had seen before. She said, her voice not quite steady, “He was this brilliant, talented man who seemed more alive than anyone I’d ever known. But he was also manic-depressive. For a while, it wasn’t so bad – he’d crash sometimes, but I could always bring him back. And then things would be great again. But then it started getting worse, until he was mostly down, and I was living under this dark cloud, always wondering if it was a bad day, or a really bad day. By then I didn't have a choice, because everyone was pretty clear that losing me would crush him. And in the end, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t save him.” Her voice broke, but she went on raggedly, “And of course, neither could the therapist, the doctors, the meds. I’m not being melodramatic, or blaming myself. I know it was the illness. But by the time it was over, I’d lost this huge chunk of myself along the

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way. In trying to save him, I did a real number on me. I turned into this dreary, downtrodden person, somehow.” She thought it over. “I turned into someone who wore baggy sweaters and ate a lot of mashed potatoes,” she said. Jeremy smiled a little at that, but he was beginning to understand why she’d kept running away from him. “Then, after about a year or so, I began hearing music again. And then I started writing, and running, and I met Matt. He taught me how to play guitar, and gave me the confidence to take my scribbling and turn it into songs. He was the one who gave me the nickname Zanna,” she remembered, with a little smile. “And somehow, through all that, I became this new person- but, I still couldn’t completely shake the past.” “So when you met me, you took one look, that next morning, and realized you’d seemingly picked another candidate ripe for self destruction.” “Yes. More or less.” He stopped, and drew her around to face him. He asked gently, “What about now, Zanna?” “Now – I don’t know. I mean, around me, you’ve never seemed like the guy everyone talks about. I’ve never seen you get high, or hit on women, or anything like that. I guess I’ve seen the infamous bad temper, but you’ve never been violent-” “Well, Mike Corrigan was pretty lucky he fell off the stage. And I almost was, another time, but you beat me to it,” he told her. She thought about it. “You mean the guy from Rat’s Ass?” she asked. He nodded. She grinned, a little. “That’s kind of funny, for some reason,” she said. “Yeah, it’s considered one of the better jokes on the rock and roll circuit,” he said. “What?” “Oh, I don’t mean your beating up Kurt – I don’t think all that many people heard about that. I mean, the general thing. Ask Maia, she laughed herself silly,” he added, sourly. Zanna said, “I’m probably being dense, here, but I don’t get it.” “The joke is, that Jeremy Kane fell for a woman who’s got all his own worst faults,” he told her. She was indignant. “I never did drugs!”

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“Oh, not that one. In your case, the self destructive impulse would be anorexia, as they see it. Then there's the temper, the tendency to belt people, and a propensity for collecting members of the opposite sex without being willing to get serious. The rap on me, with women, was always that I went through them fast, and avoided commitment. And so here I am, falling for you, ready to do anything to be with you. And there you are, with Nick, with Matt, with whoever, willing to see me occasionally, but never more than that. Very humorous, to most onlookers.” He sounded a little bitter. She was silent for a moment. Then she said, “Well, that’s what you get, for blabbing to MusicTown. If you hadn’t done that, no one would have known-” Jeremy grabbed her, and started to tickle her. She was laughing helplessly, trying to push him away, and when she couldn’t, she tripped him and they both fell down on the sand in a heap. Zanna twisted around, under him, straightening herself out. And then he was lying on her, and it felt good, the weight of his body, the way he fit against her. Jeremy raised himself onto his arms, not wanting to crush her, and she twined one leg over his, and arched her back a little, so that her hips tilted against him provocatively and effectively robbed him of breath. She looked up at him, and said softly, “You were the only one I was afraid I’d really fall for. So you were the one I couldn’t be with.” “And now, Zanna? What about now?” he asked her again. “Now - oh, I don’t know, Jeremy, there are still so many things, but if you mean do I want you, god yes, I want you so much, you have no idea…” “Oh, I think I probably do,” he said, with feeling, and then they were kissing, long, deep hungry kisses, and she could feel him hard against her. His hand slid under her shirt, and she had just slipped hers between them, and undid his jeans, when a very loud and official voice said, “Okay, folks, break it up!” They had been so engrossed in each other they hadn’t heard the beach patrol cop approach. They froze, then slowly Jeremy raised his head and said politely, “Good morning, officer.” He hesitated, figured there was no really graceful way to do this, so he sat back on his heels and zipped his jeans up again. Zanna got to her knees, hoping her bra wasn’t falling out the back of her borrowed

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sweatshirt, and wondering if this qualified for disturbing the peace. Surely not public indecency, not in California… The cop, a youngish guy, tried to look serious but couldn’t quite keep a straight face. “Rehearsing for another video?” he asked. Jeremy grinned, but Zanna thought she was never going to live down that stupid Magic Moment. The cop said, “Mr. Kane, I’m sure you can find a more suitable place,” and Jeremy said, “Yeah, you’d think,” and got to his feet, pulling Zanna up. The cop said affably, “Have a nice day,” as he strolled back to his vehicle. Jeremy and Zanna, chastened, walked back the other way, to where Jeremy’s SUV was parked. Jeremy remarked, “That does it. I am definitely going to buy a house.”

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Zanna had elected to stay in Hawaii up until the start of the Big Day Out tour. In a way, she was sorry that she and Jeremy weren’t - well, more established, she supposed, or they could have gone a little earlier and done some exploring. After all, she’d never been Down Under. She thought about asking Matt, but that seemed like tempting fate a little too far. She felt as though Big Day Out was as far as she could think. After that, her life was uncharted territory. She flew into Auckland, New Zealand, the day before the first concert, arriving at midmorning. Although the Big Day Out was mostly in Australia, it actually began at the island nation to the south. There was a bunch of press stuff, and autographing and things like that scheduled for that day, and Jump Cut’s Down Under profile was high enough that the promoters had made it clear her presence was expected. She planned on checking into the hotel, and going out to the venue right away. Hopefully there’d be time for seeing the city in the late afternoon and evening… There was a snafu at the hotel, since they appeared to have lost her reservation and were otherwise booked up. Zanna got a key for Matt’s room, along with an information packet that Spike, their tour manager, had left for her. She appropriated one of the double beds, tossing her luggage on it and ripping open the envelope from Spike to find her All Access pass, and a schedule with the relevant portions highlighted in day- glow yellow. Jump Cut was supposed to do press in just over an hour, so she changed quickly and was downstairs hailing a cab within ten minutes of her arrival.

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The venue was chaotic, as things were still being set up. Stepping carefully over the spiderweb of thick cables underfoot, Zanna headed for the canteen tent. Jeremy had been right when he called it a carnival, she thought. In front of her were some guys with Mohawks and full sleeve tattoos, obscuring her view. Then they moved aside, and the next person she saw was Matt. As if he sensed her presence, he swung around and their eyes met across the expanse. Something caught inside her, as she looked at him, and she could tell he was feeling it, too. This was it, the beginning of the end of their big adventure. Together they’d gone from coffee shop to arena. He’d met her when she was still a very damaged person, and started her on the journey that was ending here, thousands of miles and a million light years away, on the other side of the world. She owed him so much, she thought, not only because he’d given her the chance to play in a band, but because he’d found a way to give her back to herself, through the music they created together. His unwavering friendship and confidence allowed her to reinvent herself. Without him, she would never have been able to work with Jeremy, and bless him, Matt hadn’t seemed the least bit jealous of that. But it was going to be different now. She was going to lose his everyday companionship, and while she thought it was the right thing to do, it was hard to imagine her life without him there on a regular basis. She loved him, she always would…Zanna crossed the distance between them, and without thinking went into his arms. He picked her up, held her tightly, kissed her hard. For a moment she hugged him back, cherishing the illusion of security it gave her. He set her down, still holding her close, and said, his mouth against hers, “So this is it.” “Yes.” Her voice was husky. “Let’s make it good, Z.” “Absolutely.” “You ready?” She drew a deep breath, and said, “Yes.” She smiled at him. Matt grinned back. “In that case,” he said, “I should warn you that about a dozen journalists are eyeing us with great interest, and Jeremy’s over there looking very surly at the moment.” “Back to life in the fishbowl,” she said, and added, as she moved

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out of his arms, “You needn’t enjoy it so much, you brat.”

RockNet Online Special Report: Big Day Out Stay right here for up-to-the-minute reports on the action at Down Under’s answer to Woodstock! Our crack reporting team will be checking in with concert reviews, interviews, sound and video clips, and more! It’s the day before Big Day Out kicks off with its first concert here in Auckland, but onsite things are hopping anyway. Five stages, over forty bands, the biggest celebration of rock music in the Southern Hemisphere, and RockNet is here to take you through it… In the backstage canteen, any number of artists are relaxing in between press and fan meet-and-greet activity. Members of Sex Gun, Bad Role Model, Slouching towards Bliss, Dogs of War, Killer App, Lowdown and Jump Cut chill out, comparing notes on everything from R&R Aussie style, to management companies, to record deals, to projected tour schedules. “No fucking way are we doing Mudfest,” says Xan Taylor from Dogs, apparently referring to England’s Reading Festival. It’s the inevitable rain the California native objects to, and Kelly Ross from Bliss laughs at Taylor. “That was nothing, the year you played. It was hardly spitting.” There are a few surprises to be had amongst this crowd, though. Bad Role Model are hardly living down to their name - despite a new crop of Mohawk hairdos, they practically exude peace, love, and sunny new age vibes as they chat about consciousness in the new millennium. It’s a bit disconcerting when you remember the BRM of the past, a wild and raunchy group if ever there was one. And this year’s headliners, Sex Gun, are so relaxed and genial that rumors about alien abduction are starting to circulate. Can this be the same crew that wreaked mayhem just a few short years ago? Apparently it can. Cleaned up, older and wiser, but hardly chastened by the experience, Arik Jones offers a one word explanation as he downs a pint at the backstage bar. “Maturity,” he says. That’s it? “Yeah. Everyone’s gotta grow up sometime. And god knows there are enough screwed up people in this game without us adding to the ranks,” he says. He appears to be looking at Xan Taylor and Killer App’s Adam Leskar, notable hellions both, but 308

he quickly adds, “Not that I’m referring to anyone in particular.” The mood of male bonding is broken by the arrival of Zanna Martin, just in from Honolulu to join her mates from Jump Cut, for tomorrow evening’s gig on the green stage. Martin has the distinction of being the lone woman in this year’s testosterone laden lineup, but she’s more than capable of holding her own in this crowd. Conversations stop and heads turn as Martin reunites with her extremely talented young guitar player, Matt Wilder. After BRM’s newly enlightened sensitive hippyspeak, these two are refreshingly carnal. He scoops her up bodily and embarks on a long, deep, hello kiss. The spectators watch with interest and appreciation as Matt’s hand slides up her back and under her cropped shirt, with the exception of Jeremy Kane, who looks as though he could strangle them both. It’s generally assumed that Kane has some kind of off and on relationship with Martin, although she’s reticent on the subject, and he, after his initial outspokenness reportedly led to a severe rift with Zanna, has been somewhat enigmatic since. Many of those present look wistful at the sight of Jump Cut carrying on, and talk turns to the difficulties of maintaining relationships with the hectic tour schedules. “It’s tough,” says Bret McConaugh from BRM. “I’ve been seeing one woman for over a year now, and we talk on the phone almost every day, but it’s not the same as being together.” Xan Taylor shrugs. “Why bother?” he asks. Dogs of War have been on tour for the past thirty months, and their frontman says settling down in monogamous bliss isn’t on his list of aspirations. “Listen, there are a lot of women out there.” Adam Leskar agrees, but adds, “On the other hand, if anyone in my band resembled Zanna Martin, I’d be willing to rethink that attitude.” “Totally bad idea,” says Xan. “Remember No Doubt? Doing someone in your band is asking for trouble. Anyway, that’s why groupies exist,” he adds cheekily. At least one other present seems to also disapprove of interband involvement - while Jeremy Kane is more or less carrying on with his interview, his eyes flicker constantly in Zanna’s direction, and he still looks like he could kill someone, anyone. The arrival of the rest of Jump Cut breaks off the Wilder- Martin love-in, and mercifully for the frustration factor of the

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onlookers, Andy Mitchell and David Weir confine themselves to chaste kisses on the cheek. Eventually Martin breaks away and wanders over to where Kane has remained seated. With a polite smile for the interviewer, she bends over his shoulder and slides her arms down his bare chest. Her head close to his, lips brushing his cheek, she says mockingly but with affection, “Hel- lo, Jeremy.” In spite of his generally unfriendly aspect, Zanna isn’t intimidated, and evidently she knows her man: after a few seconds in which everyone seems to be holding their breath, his sternly beautiful features break into a reluctant grin, and he reaches back over his head and pulls her headfirst over his shoulder. She’s laughing as she tumbles into his lap, and he looks down at her and says “With a capital T and that rhymes with Z…hello, Zanna. Nice to see you again.” Kane bends over her, nuzzling her neck and whispering something, then looks up at the agog reporter, and says pleasantly but firmly “I think we’re done now.” Dismissed, the disappointed journalist slinks away, and Matt Wilder drops into the vacated seat. Zanna slips off Jeremy’s lap to perch on the arm of his chair instead, casually parking her elbow on his shoulder. He slides a companionable arm around her waist as he greets Wilder with apparent amiability. The next thing you know, this bizarre threesome are deep in animated conversation. And they wonder why people are always talking about their love lives…G

Zanna said to Matt, “Oh, by the way, my stuff’s in your room. The hotel lost my reservation.” “No problem,” he said. Jeremy frowned, and Matt, noticing, said with mock reassurance, “Don’t worry, there are two beds.” Jeremy forbore comment, and said only “Which hotel are you at?” Zanna told him, and Jeremy said, “We’re the next one over.” Matt said to Zanna, “Four stars. Headliners,” and Jeremy said in a threatening tone, “Any smart ass remarks about pampered rock stars and I’ll spank you both.” Zanna said, “Ooh, kinky,” and Matt rejoined “Photo opp,” mindful of the press still eyeing them. He got up then, and said, “I’ll see you at the press room, Z,” and she nodded. She started to stand up, but Jeremy's arm tightened around her waist, and he pulled her back into his lap. “If I have to share you with Matt, I think it’s only fair I get equal time,” he told her. She

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looked at him uncertainly, but he was smiling, albeit with a wicked gleam in his eyes. Zanna was relieved that he was taking it in good part - she hadn’t meant for her reunion with Matt to appear overtly sexy, and now it occurred to her that she was probably going to get written up in the press as a wanton slut…but people had said that even when she wasn’t doing anything with anybody, so you couldn’t win, really. Jeremy kissed her very briefly, however, and said, “You up for some practice?” She nodded, and he said, “Stop by our trailer when you’re done with press, then.” He let go, and she got up, but impulsively she turned back to him as he rose, kissed him again and murmured, “It’s really nice being here,” before she went off to “do press.”

Jeremy was experiencing what he by now thought of as his Zanna generated mood swing. Swift kick of joy at seeing her (“she’s here! finally!) followed by a less than enthusiastic observation (oh. Him). then on to brief annoyance (fuck, what are they doing?) and distinct irritation (christ! enough already!) abating to grumpy acknowledgement (huh, yeah, now you say hello) fading into remembrance (ooohhh…yeah) and culminating in euphoria, now mixed with heady physical enjoyment as his arms went around her (oh god, she feels good!). He knew Matt and Zanna were close, and basically accepted it - but christ, did they have to be that close?! And he found her affectionate (and prolonged!) interaction with Matt, juxtaposed with what was just about the most forward greeting she’d ever given him, distinctly confusing. But mostly, he was glad that her feelings hadn’t undergone any major changes since the last time he’d seen her. If they weren’t exactly picking up where they’d left off (he still remembered vividly the feel of her bare breast under the sweatshirt, and her hand down his jeans, that morning at the beach) then at least they weren’t all the way back at square one this time, either.

After half an hour of answering questions and having pictures taken, Zanna left her band and went to rendevous with Sex Gun. Nervous about playing with the headlining act, she had put in a lot of practice

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over her vacation, probably more than she needed to. They went through several songs together, and Daniel was speaking for all of Sex Gun when he told her, “That’s really good, Z.” Arik said, “Care to give it a try tomorrow night?” but she shook her head. “Maybe the Perth show.” They practiced for an hour, with Zanna playing on maybe half a dozen songs, and discussed how the mechanics would work when she joined them. Then talk shifted to what people had planned for the two days off before the next show. Zanna noticed Jeremy wasn’t saying much, but she didn’t really think about it; he had his taciturn moments. In fact, Jeremy was thinking along the same lines that Zanna herself had earlier – that if they were only more certain of each other, they could have made some plans. In fact, he’d wished he could have visited her in Hawaii. He knew the islands well, from time spent surfing there ( he’d owned a house on Oahu at one point) and he would have liked to meet her family, too…he supposed they weren’t anywhere close to that, it would be kind of a big step for her… he wondered if there was any possibility of talking her into spending a week with him somewhere, anywhere, after the tour…well, he had almost two weeks to work on it. Zanna rode back to the hotel strip with them. She got out at her hotel, saying she’d see them later, but not making any specific plans. She was counting on getting a run in. Jeremy thought it was typical that he couldn’t seem to just ask her to have dinner with him. Suddenly two weeks didn’t look like any time at all. But then Arik said, “Andy Mitchell’s got a place picked out for dinner tonight, and he said we could come.” Jeremy looked happier, because Andy and Zanna usually hit restaurants together. “Sounds good to me,” he said.

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RockNet Online Special Report: Big Day Out …the second concert, in Perth, was tuned up a notch from Auckland. Killer App, who are less well known here than some of the others, showed how they earned their U.S. reputation as one of the better live shows on the rock circuit….Jump Cut was hot, with Zanna Martin and Matt Wilder trading off on vocals and offering something to lust after for both boys and girls, and everything in between…. Slouching towards Bliss spiked their usual pub pop with some of the more introspective material from their latest album. Sex Gun, though, were definitely the climax of the night. Stripped down, buffed up, relaxed and cheerful, they bantered between songs, took requests, and while they kept their pants on, they did serve up a surprise near the end of their set, when they were joined onstage by Zanna Martin. She played on “Take It,” “This Magic Moment” and “Armed and Dangerous,” as well as sharing vocals with Jeremy Kane on “If I Could” and “Do You Wanna Know?” Kane appeared to enjoy performing with his alleged paramour; during the instrumental break on “Armed,” he slid up behind her and occupied his tongue in the vicinity of her left ear, apparently unmindful of the large screen behind him, projecting the image for the enjoyment of the whole stadium...

BDO Update from Australia, by Michael Perry. Sex Gun were once again joined by Zanna Martin of Jump Cut at the Melbourne show. Daniel da Silva explains how it came about. “Zanna and Jeremy have been writing songs together for some time, and when she was out in LA, she played with us 313

pretty often, just jamming. Then she did Magic Moment with us, and our bands toured together, so one way or another we were pretty familiar, and this seemed like a good opportunity. Having that extra guitar lets us do some of the older material live, again.” He adds “Besides, she’s way better on backing vocals than either Arik or me. Magic Moment sounded like hell when we tried doing it without her.” Martin admits keeping up with da Silva is a challenge. “Sex Gun ad libs more than I’m used to, and they’re really an extraordinary group of musicians. But Daniel’s great about helping me, and you know, who wouldn’t take this opportunity?” Actually, quite a few people have turned it down, notes Sex Gun drummer Johnny Deal. “We gave up on adding a second guitarist after a while – either they couldn’t stand us, or vice versa. Zanna’s very tolerant of our idiosyncrasies, although she certainly doesn’t take any crap from anyone.”G

By the day of the next-to-last show, Zanna was spending most of her spare time at the beach. After Jump Cut’s set, she hooked up with some of the other surfers, and headed for the nearest break. She had told Sex Gun not to count on her that night, saying, “Who knows when I’ll get to surf again?” “You should move to LA,” Daniel told her. The others all looked to see how she took this suggestion, but she just laughed, and said, “Believe me, there are times, like when it’s twenty below zero at home, when it’s really tempting!” Arik said to her, “If you get back early enough, stop by, okay?” Jeremy said nothing except “Have fun,” but instead of the quick kiss she was used to such situations, he surprised her by kissing her lingeringly on her mouth.

She caught a ride back to the venue with Xan Taylor, who had a rented motorcycle and, due mostly to a cavalier disregard for traffic, got them back midway through Sex Gun’s set. He dropped her off almost directly behind the stage, saying “Knock ‘em dead, babe.” She was smiling as she ran up the stairs. Daniel was the first to see her, and he gave her a big smile as they wrapped up “Golden Girl.” Jeremy looked over, and didn’t attempt to hide his pleasure. He said very audibly, “Z! all right!” and the 314

audience yelled in response. (Seeing Zanna performing with SG was rapidly becoming a status thing among the fans.) Zanna accepted a guitar from the tech, and kicked off her sandals before joining them onstage. It was the best yet. She hadn’t had time to be nervous, and by now she was more used to performing with them. It felt a little odd, being onstage barefoot and wearing a sarong over her bikini, but she was feeling so connected that it didn’t matter. When Jeremy came up behind her on “This Magic Moment,” she even leaned back against him briefly, not missing a chord as she felt his hands warm against her bare skin, circling her waist. Zanna didn’t go back on for their encores, and so as they came off after “Shutdown” she handed the guitar to the tech, and was about to join Kelly Ross and Xan who were watching from the side, when Jeremy spun her around and kissed her. Holding her to him, he murmured against her cheek, “God, you’re good at this, Zanna, you sounded sublime tonight,” and she felt a little thrill up her spine, both from the compliment and the feel of him so close to her. She said, “I’ve loved every minute,” and he responded “Oh yeah, me too,” and then he kissed her until Johnny tapped him on the shoulder, saying “We don’t want to make them wait all night, Jeremy.” Sex Gun went back on, generating the predictable roar, and Zanna had another one of those moments of unreality. She looked up at the night sky, almost unable to believe that she was in Australia, that she had just finished a stint onstage with Sex Gun, that these men with their exotic tattoos and remarkable talent were even people she knew. Jeremy had never sounded better, she thought, and he was so completely into it, she loved watching him. That combination of athleticism, natural physical grace and an innate sense of rhythm was something that couldn’t be taught. And suddenly, they were done, saying good night, coming off the stage. Daniel surprised her by putting an arm across her shoulders, and giving her a little hug. “You were awesome tonight, Z,” he told her softly, and she was so touched by it, she could only stammer her thanks. Arik and Johnny were laughing together, Johnny saying “We fucking rock!” and Arik adding, “That was almost as good as sex.”

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Zanna knew exactly what he meant; that surge of collective energy, if not quite erotic, probably belonged in the same general category. And then Jeremy was next to her, turning her to face him, kissing her again. There was nothing casual about it now; he had an intensity that told her she’d run out of time. She moved back from him, started to say something, came up short against a speaker, and Jeremy wasn’t giving her any room.

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He had her pinned, her back against the cabinet, his body hard up against her. He said, his mouth brushing hers, “I can’t wait any longer, Zanna. If you don’t want this, walk away now.” Her senses were overwhelmed by the feel of him, that solid muscle and bone, his skin still holding the heat of the sun, and her mind wasn’t functioning properly at all. She said stupidly “I can’t. You’re in the way,” and he laughed, into her hair, and said, “I am, aren’t I? So I guess you’re not going anywhere.” Then he kissed her, hard enough to take her breath away, and the world spun crazily. She was aware that they were in an all too public place, that he was clearly not going to back off this time, that she wanted him desperately, was afraid of where it would lead. Why couldn’t they just have abandoned and depraved sex, she thought dizzily, that would be okay, but she knew he was going to want more, he’d never leave it at that…his hips pushed against her, and she stopped thinking at all and wrapped her leg over his thigh, for a closer fit. His hand gripped her under her knee, hiking her leg even higher, then slid along her hamstring and around the curve to cup her ass. He lifted her up a little, his other arm wrapping around her back to keep her tightly against him, his mouth still devouring hers. She shuddered as she felt him hard and hot between her legs, thought my god we can’t do this here, RockNet’s probably catching the whole thing, but the heat flooding her took away whatever will to stop that she might have had. Jeremy said, his voice thick with desire, “Okay, we’re out of here.” He put her down, and took her by the arm, almost dragging her off the back of the stage. Several people tried to talk to them,

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but Jeremy said “Not now,” not even pausing as they wound their way through the mess of cables, people, and equipment in the access area. He didn’t stop until they were at the front of the limo line, where he opened the door to a black stretch that Zanna was pretty sure wasn’t there for them, and more or less shoved her into it. Getting in after her, he told the driver the name of the hotel. The surprised chauffeur turned around and started to say something, but a look from Jeremy changed his mind and the car moved off. Zanna sat back, slightly stunned, feeling more than a little trepidation but with all her nerves still vibrating from that last embrace. She didn’t get much time to contemplate whatever it was she might be doing, as Jeremy hit the button to raise the smoked glass panel between the driver’s and passengers’ compartments, and pulled her across his lap. He kissed her, more slowly now but with his tongue and lips in full possession of her mouth. His hands were on her hips, guiding her so that she was straddling him, and he slouched down on the seat, rocking against her in a blatantly sexual movement. It took her breath away, and before she could get it back, and protest (maybe), he was licking her neck, and his hand was over her breast, and she could only make a small mindless sound that he took for encouragement. He turned and put her on her back down on the seat, and his hand slipped under her sarong, along the inside of her leg, and then his fingers found the elastic of her bikini bottom… Zanna realized suddenly that the limo had stopped. She said, somewhat indistinctly, “We’re here,” and he said, “Not nearly.” She smacked his shoulder, hard, and said, “The hotel,” and he raised his head and stared blankly at her, then said, “Oh. Yeah, okay.” He wasn’t giving her any chance for second thoughts. He pulled her out of the limo, noticed her wince as her bare feet hit the pebbled granite walkway, picked her up and bore her swiftly into the hotel. An elevator was waiting, and Jeremy stepped into it, apparently oblivious to the fascinated stares of the two well dressed couples already on it. Zanna suppressed a giggle, knowing how they must look. Jeremy was wearing only khaki shorts and hightop sneakers, and she was in what she’d worn to the beach that afternoon. Jeremy said, “Twelfth floor, please,” to the gray haired man

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closest to the control panel and nuzzled Zanna’s hair. The woman next to him, a thirtyish blonde in a sequined evening dress, eyed Jeremy’s bare, muscular back and tattooed arms, nicely flexed as he continued to hold Zanna, with appreciation. He didn’t notice, having found Zan’s mouth again. The doors opened on ten, and the two couples got out, looking regretful in a well bred way. Jeremy put Zanna down then, still kissing her, and made the most of having his hands free once more. He pulled her out on the twelfth floor, down the hall and into his room, while she was trying to catch her breath. She should do something here, she knew, this was a bad idea, wasn’t it, getting swept away like this… Jeremy turned to her just inside the door, and for the first time, paused. His hand smoothed her tangled, windblown hair, and he said softly, “My god, you’re beautiful.” His lips against her temple, he went on “My lovely, wild, sweet, hot Zanna.” He untied the knot on her sarong, and it slid to the floor, as he whispered “My wicked, wanton Zanna.” He led her to the bed and pushed her down on it, not ungently, his face in the curve of her neck, kissing the hollow at the base of her throat, his hands running lightly over her hips, up her back. She said, “I’m probably all salty and sweaty,” in doubtful tones, and he responded absently “We’ll take a shower later.” He pulled her tank top over her head, unhooked her bikini top and slipped it off. His voice was low and very husky as he said in her ear, “I am going to do to you tonight everything I’ve been thinking of, for all these long months.” She gave up trying to think at that point, this was going to happen, had to, and oh god, she wanted him badly, she didn’t care about later….he dropped his head and kissed her breasts, slowly, taking his time. He licked, sucked, gently used his teeth, hearing her make that little sound that was somewhere between a sigh and a gasp, feeling her shiver under his hands and mouth. He undid his shorts and let them drop, as he pushed the rest of her bikini down over her slim hips. He eased her back on the bed, his hand moving slowly up the inside of her thigh, then cupping her gently between her legs, feeling her hot wetness. She rolled onto her side, her naked body straining into his, and his arms went around her, holding her close to him. He

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felt her arch against him and he pushed her onto her back again, and moved over her. His knee went in between hers, and she let her legs fall open for him. She was more than willing, under him, she was hot and ready and shivering with anticipation as he slid up between her legs. Jeremy heard her sharp intake of breath as he entered her. She was small, and tight, and he went slowly, letting her body adjust to take him. Her silky wetness made it easy, though, he was deep in her now, feeling her grip him, hearing her moan softly as he rocked against her. Oh, christ, he remembered that, how beautifully she fit him, like nothing else he’d ever known. He pushed gently into her, felt her hips thrust up against him in response. He pulled her arms over her head, held her wrists imprisoned in one hand, spread her legs a little further apart. He stroked her in a long, slow motion, and she twisted under him, and arched her back, physically imploring more, more, more. He moved back a little, almost withdrawing from her, and said, “Open your eyes.” She didn’t respond, and he thrust hard against her, making her gasp, pulled back again, and said, “Zanna, god damn it, look at me.” Her eyes opened then, and she gazed up at him, her lips parted, her breath uneven. She tried to move, but he held her down easily, ruthlessly using his size and strength to keep her there, open to him, as he teased her. He looked down at her, seeing in her face desire and heat. He smiled, giving her a little more, feeling her body lift in response. He said, “Say it.” Her eyes widened, and she went completely still under his weight. He said, “Just this once. Tell me.” He saw the comprehension in her eyes, followed by stubborn resistance. Damn her, why couldn’t she give him this? Why wouldn’t she, couldn’t she, say those words? He knew she felt it, god damn it, he knew she did…Jeremy bore down on her, felt her convulse sharply around him, and said insistently again, “Say it.” “This is duress,” is what she said. “I don’t care, say it anyway,” he answered, backing off again. “It wouldn’t count,” she warned, ever the lawyer but a little

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breathless, squirming as she tried to slide him deeper. “Fuck you, Zanna-” “Good idea-” “You know you do, why can’t you just fucking come across-” “I thought I was-” “And for once tell me how you feel about me? Because I need to hear it, okay? I need this from you.” Their eyes locked, his, hot and almost angry, hers suddenly aware. She said gently, “I love you, too, Jeremy.” He let his weight drop on her again, shuddering a little as he went deep inside her. He kissed her, released her wrists, and asked “For real?” “Yes, really.” Her arms slipped around him, held him closely, as they found a new rhythm together. She kissed him back, then gave him her wicked grin, and said “So now would you please just fuck me?” That made his blood rush, the shock of her words, nothing she’d ever said to him before, kicking him into a state of sexual overdrive, and he took her hard, driving into her with an urgency that couldn’t wait, feeling her start to come, the strong convulsive grip, as tight as her hand would have been, her legs wrapped tightly over his, heard her gasp “oooh,” and then he was totally lost in the feeling, overwhelmed by it. He whispered mindlessly, “you’re mine, you’re mine,” and she rubbed her cheek against his shoulder, but whether in affection or protest, he couldn’t have said. They lay together, in twitching aftershock, trying to breathe again. He turned a little on his side, afraid his dead weight would crush her, his arm wrapped under her to keep her close. She rolled obligingly with him, body pressed against his, with him still inside her, not quite ready to separate yet. She said, “My god, Jeremy, where have you been all my life?” and there was an undercurrent of laughter in her voice. She was flushed with heady pleasure, feeling wonderfully satiated, the pounding in her blood subsiding into pure physical contentment. He said, “Looking for you. Trying to chase you down.” He could feel all the tension of the past months slide painlessly away.

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She was warm and cuddly and felt like she wasn’t going anywhere soon. He said “Christ, Z, we’ve wasted so much time.” “Better late than never.” Her voice was drowsy. She was sinking into bone deep relaxation, stretching against him in her catlike way. He turned onto his back, letting her slip into the curve of his arm. She nestled comfortably into his shoulder. He wanted to talk to her, about what this all meant, for the two of them. He wanted to know where he stood with her. He desperately wanted some kind of reassurance, some kind of commitment from her, for them to belong to each other, to know that he didn’t have to share her with Matt, with anyone. He sighed a little sadly. He knew he couldn’t ask. She rolled over, her back to him, and he turned into her, slipped his arm over her. Then he felt her fingers curl around his hand, as she tucked his arm into her body, and she wriggled a little to fit herself against him, spoon style. He held her, the fierce sense of possessiveness warring with an almost unbearable tenderness towards her. Sleepily, Zanna murmured, “Night, Jeremy. Love you,” and he felt like he could, right now, die happy.

She awoke hours later, feeling him warm and solid against her back, his arm a little heavy as it lay over her side. She turned over, and he opened his eyes and smiled drowsily at her. “No,” he said. “No, what?” she asked, surprised. “No, you’re not going running this morning. You’re not going anywhere.” They made love in the gray dawn light, and by now even Zanna would have admitted there was no other word for it. Jeremy was showing her a different side this time; he was a gentle and considerate lover now, his tenderness in marked contrast to the way he had dominated her earlier. And she responded in kind; the hot excitement had been replaced by something softer. They held each other, the newness of it still amazing to them, kissing lightly, feeling the warmth build until his arm slid around her back, and her legs wound over his as he moved between them. He was watching her face as he went into her, seeing her lips part in a silent oh-h, her eyes widen, and she looked at him with the shared knowledge of how

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absolutely right it felt. His hips pulsed gently against her, just a small movement that gave incredible pleasure. She felt herself smiling, unable to stop, because it felt so good, this sensual intimacy. It was very different than the heated passion they’d shared earlier, but no less arousing. They looked at each other, moving together, marveling at the delicious merging of their bodies. It was as though what she felt was mirrored in his almost black eyes. And she could not stop him from seeing it in hers, he didn’t need to ask this time. She could tell by how he smiled back at her, that he was feeling all of it, that he was in her head as well as inside her body. She put her hand between them, pushed gently against his chest, and he obligingly straightened his arms, taking his weight off, except where he still rocked slightly against her. She wanted to look at him, feel him. Her hands moved over the rounded muscle of his biceps and shoulders, across the curve of the pectorals of his chest. She felt the articulation of his collarbone, noticed a thickening in one place where he must have once broken it. Her fingers felt the ridges of his ribs and abdominal muscles, and her hands slid down to where his broad upper body tapered to his waist and hips, which were comparatively narrow for a big man. The heel of her hand fit against the hollow of his hipbone, and she held him for a moment, feeling his easy motion against her, both inside and out. Her fingers moved down a little further, into the thick dark tangle where he fit into her, arresting his movement for an instant, as his breath caught. Then she slid her hands around his hips and up his back. He was beautiful, she thought, and he was in her, and in love with her, and she was struck by the wonder of that. She looked at his face, as he watched her, a little puzzled but willing for her to do anything she wanted with him. She smiled, and told him “I’m memorizing you.” She reached up and her fingers gently moved over his face. She traced his eyebrow, the hollow beneath his cheekbone, from his forehead down his nose, brushing over that mouth, rubbing her knuckles lightly against the squared and stubborn chin. He said, “No need. You can have me in the flesh, anytime you want me.” “Pretty easy, aren’t you?”

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“A complete pushover. You can take me anytime, anywhere.” She laughed, pulling him down against her once more and kissing him. The pressure of his rhythm increased a little, and she let herself get lost in it, until she murmured, “Oh yes.” “Yeah?” “Mmm.” There was no urgency this time, but a long, slow letting go, a sweet release as she came so naturally and easily with him that they couldn’t tell exactly whose body was doing what. It was, she thought dreamily, like a warm tide through her entire being, and it felt impossibly good. They were still looking into each other’s eyes, seeing and feeling it in themselves and in the other at the same time, and it was as close to another person as you could ever get. God, I love this man, she thought…. And he said, “Do you, Z? ” but she knew she hadn’t said it aloud.

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Chapter 36

It was quite possibly the last show of Jump Cut’s short career. Zanna hadn’t had much chance to think about it. She had been with Jeremy up to the point when they got to the venue, and she went along to the dressing room to get ready. They’d slept late, shared a room service breakfast, gone back to bed, taken a long shower together. It wasn’t exactly that she’d forgotten what today was, but certainly she’d been sufficiently distracted that it was shoved to the very back of her mind. The implications were sinking in, though, as she changed her clothes and began to stretch. She might not be as acrobatic as Jeremy was onstage, but she moved enough that she needed to be thoroughly warmed up before a show. Bad enough, she thought, bending towards her knee, that it was the end of Jump Cut. These guys had been friend and family for the past year. But it also felt like it was going to be the end of Zanna. She was going to be Professor Suzanne Martin again. Zanna was the girl who could sashay around a stage, sing a song like ‘Girlfriend’ with bravado, jam with Sex Gun, go surfing with the guys. Zanna was the one with the colorful if chaotic life, the one who created music. Zanna was the one who was loved by Jeremy Kane. Professor Martin went to committee meetings and classes. Had stacks of papers to grade, wrote articles with dozens of footnotes, which were published in journals no one read. She struggled through snow and ice, not sand and surf. She was more or less a loner, who certainly never went to film premieres or the beach with a bunch of rockers, or to bed with one in particular.

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So things change, she told herself. Nothing lasts forever. And as for Jeremy – well, she was stuck with her tenured position in Minnesota, and long distance relationships didn’t have much chance, even if you were starting with two well balanced individuals…at least they’d had this, had last night, she thought. Who knew, now….she rested her forehead against both knees, until Matt came over and said to her, “C’mon, Z, time to warm up your fingers.” She got to her feet and picked up her guitar, and together they started to play.

It was a good crowd for a final gig, big and enthusiastic. There were also quite a few people watching from the sidestage area, including members of both Bad Role Model and Bliss. A couple of songs into their set, Zanna glanced over and saw that the ranks had been swelled by Sex Gun as well. Daniel gave her a thumbs up as she zipped through a tricky break, and she flashed him a grin before spinning back to the microphone. Jump Cut were giving it their all, and it was working, you could tell everyone was into it. Zanna didn’t dare look at Jeremy while she played; she stayed focused on the audience in front of her, and on her band, but at the end of “Life is Triage” she finally met his eyes. His smile was warm and intimate, and she felt a wrenching sensation, because this was what they had in common, what they could share, and it was about to end. But not quite yet. Jump Cut had decided to do something a little different for their encore, and so it was just Zanna and Matt who came back on the stage initially. They began with a Green Day cover, “Time of Your Life.” No one else would understand the significance, but it had special meaning for them. Their version was raw and electric, and Zanna changed the last line to “I know I’ve had the time of my life,” and she meant it. They segued easily into “Cover Me” as Andy and David came in, doing it fast and hard hitting, finishing to raucous applause. As they came off the stage, they were all looking at each other, flushed with the excitement of the set, and the emotion of the occasion. Andy said, “It’s been swell,” and then they were hugging and Zanna was almost in tears as David said huskily, “You guys are the best,” and

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Matt replied “For sure it’s been the time of my life.” As they turned to continue backstage, a RockNet crew barred their way. A microphone was thrust under Zanna’s nose as someone asked, “Is it true this is your last performance, that Jump Cut’s breaking up?” She froze. She was aware of the ripple of shock that ran through the onlookers, of Matt next to her, looking at her quickly. She heard, to her left, Arik Jones say “What the hell-?” and Jeremy’s voice in response, “Oh, for christ’s sake.” They hadn’t planned on doing it like this. But what was the point of denying it? So she said flatly, not looking at anyone, “Yes. It’s true.” Pandemonium broke out. Now everyone was yelling questions at them. Andy was trying to explain in a rational tone, David was saying distractedly “The timing’s mostly my fault,” and Matt irritably swept the microphone out of the way and snapped “Excuse us!” Michael Perry caught Zanna’s eye, and asked “What will you do next?” “Go back to my day job,” she said with a twisted little smile. Perry, astonished, said “You won’t keep playing?” and she said, “This was it.” Spike took charge then, saying firmly “Sorry, but that’s enough for now,” as he cleared a way through the people crowding his band. They reached the dressing room and were thankful for the relative quiet, but it wasn’t destined to last long. They heard Spike, outside the door, say “Now’s not a good time,” and Jeremy reply roughly “Too fucking bad,” as he shoved past the tour manager. He stopped just inside, and locked eyes with Zanna, until she turned away. He went to her then, standing too close, looking down at her with an expression that mixed shock, and something that might have been apprehension, with anger. She was dimly aware of the room becoming crowded, that Daniel was also there, looking at her uncertainly, that Arik was asking something of Matt. Jeremy said, his voice dangerously quiet, “Is this for real, Zanna?” She said “Yes.” “Just like that. You’re quitting. You’re going back to

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Minnesota.” “Yes.” He said, with an edge apparent now, “And it never occurred to you to tell me about this?” She was silent, since it seemed unanswerable. He went on “You never thought this might be something I’d want to know?” Matt said, “Leave her alone, Jeremy,” and Jeremy whirled towards him and said, his voice now hard and angry, “Well, I don’t have much choice, do I?” He turned back to Zanna, seizing her by her arms and giving her a little shake, and said “God damn you, Zanna, did you never think that maybe this is something we should talk about?” He was almost shouting at her now. If he’d been thinking clearly, Jeremy would have seen that she was upset, overstressed, and in no shape for this conversation. But her comments to the reporter had done two things to him: made it seem that she still didn’t regard him as being part of her life, didn’t trust him, in fact, and triggered the worst fear he had, that he was going to lose her. He felt hurt and betrayed by the fact that she had slept with him, made love with him, told him she loved him, and she had known about this the whole time. If either of them had been calm enough, they could have talked through the tangle of emotions eventually, but they weren’t. And while Arik, or Andy, or even Matt might have under normal circumstances intervened before anything irrevocable was said, Arik was too shocked himself by her disclosure, and Andy and Matt had their own turbulent feelings to deal with. And so the scene degenerated into chaos. Zanna was yelling at Jeremy “That’s not how it was!” and he was yelling right back at her, “You wanna fucking explain it to me, then?” Daniel was trying to tell Jeremy to let go of her, he was hurting her. Jeremy in fact hadn’t realized how tightly he was holding on to Zanna; he dropped her as if he’d been scalded, but just a shade too late, as Matt struck him hard in the chest, knocking him back from Zanna. For a moment, it looked like Jeremy was going to hit him, but although his hands were clenched into fists, his arms stayed by his side as he said to Matt “You’re going to let her do this? Are you fucking crazy?” He looked around, adding “Are you all out of your fucking minds?”

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Matt, who in fact also thought Zanna was making the wrong decision the wrong way, had no answer. And suddenly the commotion stopped, and it was just Jeremy looking at Zanna, and this time his voice was barely audible as he said, “Z, you can’t do this to us.” It was too much for her. Her own emotional balance was too fragile a thing for her to be able to handle feeling responsible for his, as well. The thing that had always scared her the most about Jeremy was not his lack of control over his temper, nor his apparent recklessness, but the no-brakes quality of his feelings. It was very apparent now, and she couldn’t deal with it. She was in no shape to appreciate that he was devastated by the way she had let him get close to her in one sense, but had not seen fit to tell him that things were about to change in a way that would drastically affect them both. Zanna wasn’t used to thinking about her life being part of someone else’s, but to Jeremy, her lack of disclosure indicated that she didn’t even see that there was an “us.” But Zanna had been too confused to think that far. She looked at Jeremy, and her feelings were a muddled tangle of guilt, and love, and pain. She tried to say something, couldn’t get it out. She felt suddenly claustrophobic, knew she had to get out of there. And so without a word, she turned and brushed past Arik and Daniel, heard the latter say in his soft, slightly hesitant voice, “Zanna?” and oddly, that was the final straw. The tears were hot, and they almost blinded her as she went out the door, and then she was running, out to the ranks of trailers, stumbling over the power lines, regaining her stride as she flashed by the security people at the gate. She kept going, down the road, as if she could outrun the feelings she didn’t know how to cope with, as if drawing oxygen into her lungs could force back the sob that threatened to choke her.

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Chapter 37


RockNet Newsline Despite considerable success, neophyte alt rockers JUMP CUT are calling it quits. Citing other commitments as the reason for the break up, members of the group would say little about the circumstances. Singer Zanna Martin said she has no plans to stay in the rock music business, and Matt Wilder’s only comment was that it was “too soon to tell” what happens next. Ironically, the announcement came just a day before their first CD, “Taste This,” was certified gold.

To: Spike From: Zanna Re: gone

Spike, I have to get away for a while, so I’m taking the slow boat back to the U.S. – literally. Tell the guys not to worry, I’ll be fine, but I won’t be in touch for a while. Could you please have the rest of my stuff sent to the Hawaii address? Thanks. It was a privilege working with you. Thanks for always making our rollercoaster run smoothly.

To: Sex Gun c/o Arik From: Zanna Re:

I loved playing with you all. It was an honor, and a trip and a half. Thank you, so very much, for the experience. 330

To: Rachel From: Zanna Re: the end of BDO

Well, the news broke before we could do it ourselves, and all hell, etc. I’ve got a nice, long ride on a sailboat out of here, I’ll send you the names and registration, etc. so that someone knows where I am. They’re a very respectable group who I met in the harbor while out on a run the other day. One of their lot just left them, and they can use an extra crew member. I figure this will give me some time to catch up with myself – I sorely need it. To: Jeremy From: Zanna Re: I’m sorry

It hurt too much to talk about, and I was too much of a mess over it to know what to say. And these last few weeks, I just wanted to stay in the moment – because it was so perfect. Love, Z Note left under Matt’s door:

Oh, Matt, I don’t know what to say. I’m going to find my own way back home, I need some time. You know, a part of me has been struggling not to say, let’s put together another band. As much as I want it, want to stay with you and keep playing together, there’s another reason why it can’t be, that I didn’t bring up before. You’d keep getting sold short. As long as I’m in the same picture, too much of the focus would be on me, just because that’s how they do it in this business. You’re as good a vocalist as I am, and we both know you’re much more of a musician. I don’t want to be the one who holds you back. Do what you have to. Somewhere down the road, I’ll see you again. love always,

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your Zanna

By the next night, when Sex Gun played their last show in Australia at the Sydney Entertainment Center, it was evident that she was really gone. Arik had talked to Spike, and relayed what meager information he’d gotten to the others. It was the morning after the last Big Day Out concert, and they were in Arik’s hotel room. Everyone was in a bad mood. Jeremy said, “That’s it? He doesn’t know where she went?” His voice was incredulous. Arik said wearily, “That’s all she said, apparently.” “She didn’t say anything to Matt?” asked Johnny. “Look, no one even saw her, okay? She emailed that she was leaving, and that was it. Matt said their lawyer, Rachel whatsit, got pretty much the same message, and so did her family. He called them.” Jeremy said, “I can’t fucking believe this.” Daniel was visibly upset. “Well, that’s just great. No one even knows if she’s okay, or what.” Jeremy said irritably, “Stop saying that. She has to be okay.” He couldn’t stand to think of the alternative. Daniel turned on him. “Well, if she is, it’s no thanks to you. Why the fuck did you yell at her like that? She hates it, anyone can tell. When she goes all quiet, it’s because she’s hurting, and you just make it worse.” “Shut up,” said Jeremy, between his teeth. But Daniel was well away. He went on “And I thought you were supposed to be in love with her? You’ve got a nice way of showing it, swearing at her and shouting at her, and the way you shoved her up against that speaker the other night-” Jeremy yelled “Shut up! Just shut the fuck up!” but the tension of the past few days had taken a toll on Daniel’s sometimes precarious equilibrium, and he was too far gone to care about Jeremy’s tantrums. He was shouting back at him now “- and you just about raped her onstage, and if you fuck anything like you talk

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to her, she’d be crazy to ever come anywhere near you again! She’s not yours, Jeremy, she matters to us as well, you can’t treat her like that-” and then Jeremy couldn’t take it. He turned and lashed out at the nearest inanimate object. As his fist crashed through the wardrobe door, he thought incoherently that he couldn’t stand this, she was gone and Daniel was right, it was his fault. He had totally screwed up this time, and he had lost her, and he didn’t know how he was going to live with that.

Tanner made Jeremy go to the emergency room at the nearest hospital, as his arm was quite badly lacerated from the splintered wood. They disinfected it, and stitched it up, and covered his hand and forearm in gauze and adhesive bandage. He was in a fair amount of pain since they wouldn’t give him anything, due to his recovered addict status. He didn’t much care; the physical hurt was almost welcome. Jeremy had categorically refused to talk to the press, but Michael Perry caught up with him at the Sydney Entertainment Center, after the soundcheck. “I don’t mean to hassle you, but it might be easier for you to comment and get it over with,” said the writer. Jeremy knew this made some sense, but- “I don’t have anything to say,” he replied. “I don’t know why Jump Cut broke up, and I sure as hell don’t know why she didn’t-” His voice cracked in mid-sentence. He stopped, looking almost confused. He started again, “why she didn’t tell me” but he couldn’t finish the sentence, couldn’t get those words out. It was if they were choking him. His dark eyes were suspiciously bright for a moment, and he brushed the back of his hand across his face. He looked shocked by what was happening to him, taken unaware by his own emotions, and what was for most people a natural physical reaction to them. It was a revelation to Perry, that was both striking and unbearably sad, and nothing he was going to write about. Jeremy Kane didn’t know how to cry.

The final show had a near nightmare quality. Sex Gun were barely on speaking terms as they took the stage. Jeremy was so sunk in grief and misery, he hardly noticed what was going on around him.

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It was scarily reminiscent of the most extreme phase of his addiction, thought Arik worriedly. But there was no rehab program for this. They went through the motions, with a kind of professional efficiency that was adequate, if nothing to be proud of. Jeremy snapped out of his stupor sufficiently to deliver a credible performance, although it lacked his usual high voltage energy. Ironically, on a few songs his state of turmoil worked to their advantage – both “Miss You Forever” and “If I Could” were even more powerful emotionally with the ragged edge in the singer’s voice. Finally it was over, and the limos took them straight to the airfield. Standing on the concrete, with the warm Australian breeze caressing his face like a lover’s touch, Jeremy wondered where she was. Still in Australia somewhere? On her way home? He had never in his life felt so desolately alone.

RockNet Newsline Sources have confirmed that Matt Wilder, formerly of Jump Cut, will replace guitarist Cole Kerrie in Bad Role Model’s lineup. Kerrie was arrested last week and charged with cocaine possession. As it will be his fourth offense, it’s expected that he’ll probably get a jail sentence this time. Bad Role Model has cancelled several shows in the immediate future, but expects to resume touring in less than a month.

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G G G G G G G Chapter 38

To: Rachel From: Zanna Re: update

Hi…this is coming to you from a marina in the Mariannas, one of your smaller outposts of civilization, but thanks to the wonder of satellite relays, I guess everyone has the Internet now. Got your message just now, thanks for taking care of things. Thanks for everything, in fact. I know I handled the situation poorly – just couldn’t seem to get my head around it, somehow. Out on the water, I feel like I’m getting some perspective, and at least it’s calmer and not so crazy. And no, I’m not planning on crossing the whole ocean this way –I’ll probably catch a plane when we get to an island with an international airport.

To: Jill From: Arik Re: still alive

Hey, we’re in Osaka now, getting ready for our last show in Japan. Then we head home for almost a week. It’s been pretty morose lately-Jeremy and Dan made up, after their fight, but Jeremy’s way down. Hell, we all are. Zanna was

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one of our own, we thought. Now we’re like the fucking Lost Boys without Wendy. I still don’t understand why she didn’t say anything – do you get that, at all? But it’s fucking hard on Jeremy. The first time he lost her, she was his dream lover gone, but this is much worse. Whether she knew it or not, she was his partner, the only one he’s ever had. Fuck, I’m sorry, this is just depressing, huh? I promise I’ll do better in person. It’s just I’m worried about him, we all know what’s happened before, when he got into a long, dark mood, and it was really seeming like that was in the past, but now I don’t know. We’ve got one of those TV things when we get back to LA, where you play songs and chat with the audience, like Storytellers but this is RockNet, can’t remember what they call it. Might just be me and Jeremy, the others don’t seem too thrilled. But then there’s five days with no commitments. If you’ve got some time free, maybe we could go look at the redwoods, or something, for a weekend…

To: Arik From: Jill Re: can’t wait-

-to see you again. Yes, let’s grab a few days off somewhere restful. About Zanna – you know, I think maybe she’s so used to doing things on her own, she doesn’t really know how to reach out (at least, not to anyone except Matt). She always struck me as being somewhat wary, or perhaps tentative would be a better word, in how she relates to people, and slow to realize they care….

To: Zanna From: Matt Re: stuff

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Hey, Z, I’m writing this from someone else’s computer, so I’m afraid you can’t email me back. I’m replacing Cole Kerrie (don’t ask) in BRM, rehearsing like crazy, start touring in a couple of days. I hope to hell you’re okay. I’m sorry that we had to part ways this soon, and this way, but your right, it had to happen, for a lot of reasons. And this is one you might not have thought about. It’s true, you were always going to get the lion’s share of attention, but your crazy if you think I minded. You deserve every bit of it. I never looked at it as you holding me back, Z. I think we had a good partnership. Not like what you’ve got with Jeremy, but still, good. The thing is, I was holding you back. Not in the band, but in your life. As long as I was around, you didn’t really have to take a chance with another man, did you? Because you could get just enough to get by, from me. I love you too much to be your crutch, Zanna. You know what I think – you belong to music, heart and soul. But you’ll have to make your own choices. Good luck, and I’ll see you somewhere down the line.

Love now and forever, Matt

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Chapter 39

RockNet Newsline Next on LIVE: Spend an hour with Arik Jones and Jeremy Kane of SEX GUN. Hear the story behind the tunes, watch the performance, as our favorite LA badboy rockers get down with the studio audience.

RockNet Special Features Online LIVE with Sex Gun: missed the show? You can hear some highlights and read a transcript right here.

Introduction: Despite Sex Gun’s reputation, Jeremy Kane and Arik Jones were low key and relaxed for their gig, talking easily with the studio audience in between playing both familiar Sex Gun fare and some unreleased material. All the songs were played with Arik on an electric Fender bass and Jeremy playing either a Martin acoustic guitar, or an electric Gibson Les Paul standard. They looked comfortable and casual, if more dressed than usual. Arik wore khakis and a plain black t-shirt; Jeremy was in worn jeans and a navy sweater.

Jeremy: After the Hurricane is about rebirth, rebuilding, I guess…it actually started out in a very literal way. I went surfing in Hawaii not long after there’d been a hellacious storm, and people there were still going through the process of sorting through the wreckage, and putting their lives back together. I was struck by their matter of factness – this is what you do, that’s all there is to it. You pick up the pieces. And after the violence of the storm, there’s this brilliant sunshine, and bright blue water, just dazzling. It turned into kind of a metaphor, from there – you know, in life’s darkest, most destructive 338

moments, you have to remember that the future still holds beautiful days. If I Could, now, that one’s about the dark moments, period. It’s from one of my real downer phases. I always thought it was kind of funny that it’s the song that was the big mainstream hit for us. And Do You Wanna Know, also a hit on the pop charts, is just about sex – I mean, there’s no real message there. (Click here for excerpt of After the Hurricane)

Question from audience: is there any particular performance that really stands out for you?

Arik: the ones we got arrested at. (laughter from audience). No, really, I think the Feed the World thing would be a highlight, because it was on such a humongous scale. And in a very different way, when we played at a club in Hollywood when we were first starting out. It was like, our fifth or sixth show ever, and it was the one where we were like, yeah, we can do this.

Question from audience: Is Golden Girl about Zanna Martin?

Jeremy: Well, I wrote it before I knew her, so I guess not. But now it seems like it was always about her, really, even if I hadn’t met her yet.

Question: Will Zanna be working with you guys again?

Arik: oh…who knows? Jeremy: to be honest, this is kind of hard to talk about. I guess most people know that Zanna and I have had an up- and- down relationship, and right now I don’t really know where we’re at, since I haven’t talked to her since Jump Cut split up. Actually, I don’t even know what continent she’s on, at the moment.

Arik: we miss her, though, and we’re hoping she gets in touch soon. We thought about putting one of those ads in the Herald Trib – “Zanna, all is forgiven, please come home.” Jeremy: for me, being without her has been one of those really miserable character building experiences, the kind people say will make you stronger if it doesn’t kill you first. And I’ll tell you, after she left, I was hurt and angry and ready to die from sheer misery. (pause) I’m really bad at that character building 339

****. I usually break things, and get arrested, or do a lot of drugs, but this time (pauses, grins as audience reacts) I managed to avoid the last two, so that’s an improvement, I figure. Anyway, this next one is about Zanna, and if we ever record it, I’m sure I’ll get a lot of **** over it. It’s called Fix. (Click here for excerpt)G

Jeremy had not been looking forward to the RockNet gig – spilling his guts to a bunch of people about Sex Gun’s music was the last thing he felt like doing. But once under way, he found it was oddly cathartic. The studio was surprisingly intimate, the audience had a good vibe, and when someone came right out and asked about Zanna, it was almost a relief to just answer the question honestly. He thought about trying to get in touch with her, at least to tell her he was sorry. But…thinking back over his time with Zanna, he was aware that he had always been pushing, getting in her face, putting her in a position where she could only react. And if they were ever going to be together, he thought it would have to be her call. Otherwise, how was she ever going to know if he was what she wanted, or what she needed? And so even though it hurt so much it kept him awake nights, he didn’t contact her. He found he didn’t want to hang around Arik’s during their short tour break, and so he went to New York instead, telling ARS that he was available for publicity appearances there. Nancy was amazed to hear Jeremy was willing to do PR on his break, but took swift advantage of what she regarded as his momentary insanity and quickly lined up a full schedule. So he taped a public service announcement for an anti-drug campaign, did a photo shoot for a hip women’s magazine, and talked to several journalists. It was at the MTV studio, just before he was to give an interview, that he remembered something. “Hey, does Serenity still work here?” he asked. The interviewer, a sharply fashionable blonde who was generally thought to be a babe, but whose oversized teeth, in Jeremy’s opinion, made her look carnivorous, was puzzled. Jeremy added, “I think she does research.” The assistant producer, small, female, dark, and harried, said, 340

“You must mean Serenity Hogan. She does background, archive searches, stuff like that. Yeah, she’s still here.” “She working now?” asked Jeremy. The blonde interviewer was looking just a little annoyed – used to the limelight, he thought. The a.p. shrugged. “Probably.” The interviewer said smoothly, “Jeremy, I think we’re ready-” “Not quite,” he said. He’d decided he didn’t like her. He hadn’t met her before, wasn’t it rather presumptuous of her to assume they were on a first name basis? He turned back to the a.p. “Get her,” he commanded, smiling to make the order more palatable. She scurried off obediently. Jeremy said pleasantly to the impatient interviewer, “This won’t take long.” It didn’t; the a.p. must have been a real sprinter, because she was back in minutes, followed by another young woman. Serenity, he presumed. Unlike both the a.p. and the interviewer, young Serenity was neither rail thin, nor chic in that monochromatic New York style. She was slightly plump, with wavy brown hair that fell just past her shoulders, and glasses. She had on a plaid skirt and red sweater, and she looked rather like a fifties schoolgirl. Jeremy had a definite fix on her role at MTV, confirmed by the slight contempt of the a.p., and the way the interviewer ignored her. Serenity was a dweeb who was good at her job. He wondered why she stayed. Jeremy stood up as they approached, and Serenity smiled nervously and said, “Hi, Mr. Kane.” He grinned. “C’mon, Serenity, we’re practically old friends, I think you can call me Jeremy,” and he hugged her and planted a firm kiss on her cheek, well aware of the amazed stares of Serenity’s coworkers. Serenity looked like she was about to faint. Jeremy continued, “Look, I’m sorry about not calling first, but are you free tonight by any chance? I’ve got to do an appearance at Virgin Records across the street after we get done here, but maybe we could have dinner or something?” His smile was lazily wicked, and he saw that she knew exactly what he was up to. Good, give him a smart one over high gloss anytime, he thought. Serenity said composedly, “I could meet you at Virgin, then,” although her face had a delicate, wild rose blush that reminded him a

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little of Zanna. “That’ll work,” he said cheerfully. He turned back to the interviewer, aware of having increased Serenity’s stock at MTV a hundred times over, and said affably “Okay, now I’m ready.”

Jeremy actually enjoyed his date with young Serenity. Once she got over her initial shyness, she was a bright and funny conversationalist. When she arrived at the Virgin Records megastore, he was midway through his brief, acoustic solo performance. He saw her waiting patiently near the back, and before starting the next song, he said casually, “Okay, you people in front need to make room, a friend of mine just got here,” and he motioned Serenity forward. She looked embarrassed, but pleased, and it was precisely because she was the sort of girl who was used to being wallpaper that Jeremy felt she deserved a little attention. He grinned at her, and said, “What do you want to hear?” She asked, “Can you do ‘Dark Angel’ solo?” He was surprised. “Where did you catch that?” Serenity looked guilty. “It’s on the Internet,” she admitted. He sounded the strings, adjusted the e, and smiled at Serenity. “I’ll give it a try,” he said. They had dinner at a place that Jill Stanley had recommended. It was trendy and expensive enough to be somewhere Serenity probably wouldn’t normally get to, without being obnoxious about it, and the food was excellent. They exchanged conspiratorial smiles when Robert DeNiro was seated two tables away. “They always look smaller in person,” confided Serenity. “Yeah? Me, too?” Jeremy teased. She said honestly, “No, you look bigger,” and blushed when he laughed. Then she continued, “But you wouldn’t believe how short a lot of male rock stars are. The first time I saw Trent Reznor, I was amazed at how little he is.” She added reflectively, “And kind of ordinary looking, really.” “Maybe they get into music because they can’t be jocks,” offered Jeremy. “A lot of rock musicians started out as misfits in their youth, one way or another.” “Maybe.” She eyed him speculatively. “Were you?” Jeremy contemplated her. He had made a point of never talking

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about his pre-band existence. But oddly, he sort of felt like telling her. He leaned forward, arms on the table, and said, “Given where you work – can we agree this conversation is all off the record?” Serenity looked surprised, then flattered. “I promise to keep everything in strictest confidence,” she assured him earnestly. “Okay, I trust you.” She almost glowed at that, he noticed with amusement. “I started playing guitar when I was about ten,” he told her. “One of my mother’s many boyfriends left a Gibson behind when he had to skip town one step ahead of his drug dealer.” Serenity looked warmly sympathetic. Jeremy continued, “I was a thorough going delinquent. The only reason I didn’t get in a lot more trouble as a kid was that I got focused on a couple of things – music, surfing, dirt bikes- and they took a lot of time and energy.” He asked her about herself then, and she told him that she had left Nebraska to attend Brown University as an English major. She loved rock music, and wanted to try and work in it in some capacity. “I actually applied at RockNet first,” she admitted. “Because really they do more music programming, and they’re not as – well, faddish as MTV. And of course I tried Rolling Stone, and Soundline, and all the print media, but it’s pretty hard to even get an interview. I think you have to know someone.” “Well, now you do,” he told her. “If you ever decide you need a change.” The waiter removed their plates, and asked about dessert. Serenity appeared unsure. Jeremy ordered coffee, and asked her “Want to split something?” She assented happily, and the waiter summoned the dessert cart. They debated the merits of cheesecake vs. chocolate, but finally settled on raspberry lemon torte. Jeremy remarked, “Zanna got me in the habit of sharing like this,” and Serenity said, a little hesitantly, “I always wondered, after you asked for all that stuff about her, what it was about.” He said dryly, “I would think it was pretty obvious from the media coverage, including that of your employer,” and surprisingly, Serenity gave a ladylike little snort and said “Like that’s accurate!” Jeremy laughed at that, then because she was such a sympathetic listener and because the thought of Zanna was like an ache that needed to be worked, he told her a little about how it started. One

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thing led to another, and by the time they’d polished off the cake he was admitting that he missed Zanna terribly, and didn’t know what to do about it. Serenity mused, “It must be so hard for her.” He didn’t know what she meant. She tried to explain. “I mean, she must have worked for a long time to get where she is, in her profession, you know? My dad’s a teacher, and it’s really hard to get that tenure status, I know that. Then this other thing happens, with the band, and now she’s got these two completely different paths she could take. And one’s very secure, but the other is probably more exciting.” Jeremy hadn’t thought of it like that. He had mostly just thought Zanna was crazy, with her kind of talent, to think even for a minute about giving up music. It hadn’t occurred to him that she was probably really good at her other job, as well. He looked at Serenity with increasing respect. “That’s a good point,” he said. “You got any more?”

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Chapter 40

After several weeks on the ocean, Zanna’s “ride” docked in Tahiti. Papyeete was something of a surprise; more of a bustling international city than a tropical paradise. While Zanna was thankful for her time on the water, which had given her time to sort out her troubled emotions, she was more than happy when she spotted an Internet café just off the main drag. There were messages from her family, Nick, Kaoru, and David, which all said pretty much the same thing – are you okay? She answered with cheerful affirmatives, promising to be in touch again soon. Nothing from Jeremy. She explored how that felt, cautiously. Painful, she decided. It was not knowing that was hard. Did it mean he was still angry? Hurt? Had finally given up on her, fed up with her indecisiveness? She just didn’t know. The last email was from her department chair at the University. It seemed her replacement had to have surgery in the near future, and would be out for about three weeks. Could Suzanne make herself available to cover the classes. They were, after all, the courses she normally taught. Zanna stared at the screen for a moment, then exited without replying. Next, she clicked on “search,” then typed in “Sex Gun.” Dozens of hits, as expected. She went to a fan site she remembered as being pretty comprehensive. She didn’t really know what she was looking for. Going to the articles section, she saw a review from the last Sydney show, and looked it over, cursorily at first, then with sharp

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attention. Jeremy had been injured? What was that about? The articles were all cautious, but Michael Perry’s clip alluded to the break up of Jump Cut, and indicated that it had caused problems within Sex Gun. Zanna didn’t know what to make of that. She went to the photo archive. Hitting on links randomly, she had to smile at an old pic from the mid eighties – god, they looked so young! Naturally, there were a lot of pictures of Jeremy. One was a newswire photo in black and white, rather grainy, but it wasn’t the poor quality that made Zanna catch her breath. Jeremy, arms pulled behind him, apparently handcuffed, next to a police cruiser. He stared right into the lens, his face hard and defiant. A uniformed cop was next to him, holding him by the arm. The caption read only Chicago, 1989. Pictures from awards events, Jeremy with the others from the band, or with a glamorous girl. Some very early ones from surfing competitions. She looked at a picture taken at the beach, probably over fifteen years ago. His build was lighter and there were no tattoos on his forearms. He was laughing, and his unguarded expression suddenly hit her with a wave of longing. That was how he looked when he was with her. Under the tough and dangerous surface was a man who loved her with both tenderness and passion. She thought about how for so long, he’d gotten very little encouragement from her, yet he kept doggedly coming back. Until now. Zanna faced the facts. If she’d hurt him the first time she left, this was much, much worse. She went back to the main page, clicked on “Tour info,” and looked it over thoughtfully.

Zanna knew the easy way would be to call ARS, Sex Gun’s management company, and get the band’s hotel information (they invariably registered under fake names) so she could call Jeremy. But even if she could bring herself to call, it would be so hard to read him over the phone. She felt that if they just saw each other again, she’d be able to tell – more. Either he’d be glad she was there, or he wouldn’t, and if it were the latter she would leave immediately. But she wanted an unguarded response from him.

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So after several days of traveling she arrived in New Orleans for Rock Now! a megaconcert with many bands participating, just like any music fan in town for the big show. She ran into problems immediately. There were no hotel rooms to be had, at least not in a convenient location, according to the travel service at the airport. Resignedly, she washed her face and brushed her teeth in the airport restroom, and took a bus to the venue. Which was sold out, and there wasn’t a scalper in sight. None of the event staff would relay a message to Tanner Holt. Her request was met by an amused “Sure, babe,” smile. They thought she was some kind of groupie, she realized. No one was making her as the ex-singer from Jump Cut, familiar of Jeremy Kane. She was just another scruffy girl in jeans and sweatshirt. Before she was in Jump Cut, Zanna hadn’t attended many concerts, and she certainly had never tried to get backstage or “meet the band.” She had always appreciated tight security as a performer; now she was stymied by it. She didn’t have Tanner’s cell phone number, and ARS’ offices were closed. She was well aware of the irony. She had put herself on the outside, and now she had to deal with the consequences. Thinking that her best shot might be to find a crew member who knew her, she wandered around to the back of the arena. But even here, the lot had been blocked off by high barricades, and a couple of uniformed security officers kept a watchful eye on the sizable knot of fans who waited, hoping to catch sight of their favorite performers. As she stood there on the outskirts of the crowd, wondering what to do, the person by her side glanced at her casually. Then he took a closer look, and blurted out, “Holy shit!” He was young, stocky, with light brown hair and a beard that gave him a teddy bear look. He was wearing an ancient Sex Gun tour shirt – the mark of a long time fan. He was staring at her openly, and he said, “You’re…you’re…” “Yeah,” said Zanna, “ that’s me all right.” Another young man came up to them, this one tall, lean and clean-cut, except for the pierced nose. He was saying, “They’re not all here, anyway, so-” he broke off, also staring at Zanna. “Jesus Christ,” he said. “What are you doing here?” “Same as you, I expect,” she retorted crisply. “Hoping to run

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into someone from the band.” The taller one held out his hand. “I’m Shawn, and this is Justin,” he said. They all shook, and Justin said, “Can’t you just go in?” She sighed, and explained her situation. Shawn looked thoughtful. “What I was saying, was that according to the Security guy, they’re not all here yet. That’s why we’re hanging out – sometimes they’ll stop and talk, or do autographs, when they’re going in. SG’s pretty good that way. So if you wait, maybe he’ll show up.” Since she didn’t have any better ideas, that was what she did. They hung out for the next hour, talking about music and she volunteered some funny anecdotes about different bands. They were endearingly respectful, and didn’t once ask about her personal relationship with Jeremy. Then, a collective buzz began as a limo pulled up. The crowd pressed forward against the barrier. Zanna didn’t know that she wanted to meet Jeremy again like this, but at any rate it wasn’t Sex Gun. She rolled her eyes as she recognized them. Killer App. It would be. Neither Tech Diff nor BRM were at this event, but why couldn’t it have been Bliss, or Dogs of War, or even blasted Saturday’s Child? Of all the people to owe a favor to…In imitation of Jeremy, she looked up at the sky and said “motherfucker,” and it felt naughtily satisfying, although it netted her a startled look from young Justin. Then she called out, “Adam! Hey, Leskar!” But everyone had started yelling, and Adam only gave a casual wave without looking. There were too many people. She tried to get closer to the barrier, but they were too densely packed. She wasn’t loud enough to make herself heard over the clamor. Zanna saw her opportunity slipping away. But she had reckoned without her two new best friends. Shawn and Justin alertly saw the problem, and they exchanged a quick look, and then bent down together. Each seizing one of her legs, they hoisted her easily onto their shoulders, and Shawn let out a piercing whistle. Everyone around them winced, and in the sudden lull that followed, Zanna yelled, “ADAM! Hey! NIRVANA!” He swung around, eyes narrowed against the sun, and this time he saw her. Breaking away from his entourage, he strode across to

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the barrier. If you didn’t know him, he was an attractive sonofagun, she thought. Unlike most rockers, Adam was generally well dressed offstage. In a black cashmere sweater and pleated black pants, with wingtips, still with his court appearance coif, he could have been a hip stockbroker out for the weekend. “Well, well,” he said, tilting his head back to look up at her, still on the guys’ shoulders. “If it isn’t Nirvana herself.” “Just kidding,” she said. “Look, I need to get in.” “How much is it worth to you?” he asked, with a lazy smile as he contemplated her. Zanna gritted her teeth, reminded herself that she needed him. “Put it like this,” she answered. “If things go my way, you wouldn’t want to collect. If they don’t, I probably won’t care one way or the other.” Adam remarked, mostly to himself, “Sometimes I really wish I was as much of an asshole as people think I am.” He gave the barrier an assessing look, and asked, “Can you get over this?” Shawn answered for her. “Of course she can,” he said. They put her down, and cleared a way to the front. Then Justin knelt, and laced his fingers together. She put her foot in them, and he tossed her up. She flipped over the barrier, and fell literally into Adam’s arms. He said, “What the fuck, you can’t expect me to resist this,” and kissed her. She let him; in spite of all his very obvious shortcomings, she had just the tiniest soft spot for Adam. Then she shoved him away, and turned back to her cohorts on the other side of the barrier. “Thanks a million,” she said, smiling warmly. Shawn reached through to hand her a business card. “In case you need anything,” he said. She was touched. “You two are the best,” she said. “I hope you enjoy the show.” She was turning away with Adam, when Justin said, “Hey, by the way-“ She looked back, and he finished “I really loved Jump Cut.” She blew them a kiss as Adam steered her towards the backstage entrance. Glancing at the card, she had to laugh. Shawn was an attorney. And here she’d been thinking of them both, more or less, as kids. Adam said conversationally, “Come to make up with the boyfriend?”

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“Something like that,” she answered. “I take it he doesn’t know you’re here.” “Right.” “What’s the plan?” “I’m working on that.” Adam led her back to Killer App’s dressing room. The other occupants looked at her curiously, and Adam told them, “You never saw her, right?” He looked at Zanna reflectively, and said, “It’s probably better if he doesn’t hear you’re here, so to speak, until you get a chance to see him.” She nodded in assent. He said, “Let’s see what we can do by way of a disguise,” and went out. He came back with one of the t-shirts Killer App’s crew wore, size XL, and a baseball cap. Well, it hadn’t worked before, but this time Jeremy wasn’t expecting her. Worth a try. “Funny how you keep giving me clothes,” she remarked, pulling the black shirt with the Killer App logo over her head. “Very,” agreed Adam, “considering I’d prefer to see you without them.” She was silent. Adam said, with the empathy that was at odds with his blatant sexual posing, “Scared?” She nodded. “Yes. The last time I saw him, he was really angry with me. He may take one look and throw me off the stage.” Adam said, “I take it you haven’t seen the RockNet LIVE episode he and Arik did?” She shook her head. “Adam, I’ve been on a boat for most of the time since Australia.” “Yeah, well, let’s just say I’d be surprised if he’s ready to give up on his nirvana yet.” She made a face at him, and he laughed. Then she said, “I don’t know if I should even be here, since I don’t know what we can do, even if he does still…” she trailed off uncertainly. “You know, Zanna, I don’t particularly like Jeremy, and for a long time, I thought the same thing as most people – what the hell is she doing with that psycho, she could do a lot better.” Adam grinned. “Of course, I also thought if you were going to be with a loser, you might as well give me a try.” She smiled. He went on “But watching you together at the Take Two gig, and at Big Day Out, it was pretty obvious to everyone that you can give each other something that’s not too easy to come by. And I’m guessing that’s why you’re here now.” Surprisingly, he reached out and patted her

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cheek gently. “All you need to decide is if you want Jeremy Kane to be part of your life.” “I knew I was going to miss Matt,” she said slowly. “And I do. But I miss him – Jeremy –more.” “If you want him, Zanna – you work on it together. Let him be part of it, that messy difficult shit involved in deciding what happens now. Because when someone cares about you, the very worst thing you can do is shut him out.” She looked stunned by the end of this. Then she said, “This is so freaking surreal. I can’t believe I’m listening to relationship advice from a member of Killer App.” “Well, if it makes you feel better – if it doesn’t work out with Jeremy tonight, come back and I’ll take your mind off him fast,” he offered, with a wickedly lecherous look. She had to laugh. Then he said warningly, “But I can’t guarantee my band would be okay with a girl joining, even one as good as you.” She wrinkled her nose. “Huh?” “Isn’t that what the fight with Jeremy was over?” he drawled, raising an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?” She stared at him, totally perplexed. He went on, “It wouldn’t make sense that he’d be pissed at you because your band broke up; that wasn’t your fault. We all assumed the problem was that you turned his band down.” Zanna couldn’t even begin to formulate a response to that. It was completely insane. Adam was frowning a little as he looked at her, then he said lightly, “Oh well, you know what rumors are.” She found her voice. “That one’s just crazy. There was never any question of my joining Sex Gun.” “No?” he said quizzically. “Well, if you say so. But it’s not such a crazy idea, Zanna. Think about it. They used to have two guitarists, and they initially wanted to get a replacement when Steve died. The main problem was that they just couldn’t get along with anyone, but they obviously like working with you.” He shrugged. “No one could blame them if you seemed like the next step in the SG evolutionary process, and to their credit, they’ve never been a static act. And they’ve certainly never shied away from

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controversy.” Zanna stared at him. “But we never…I mean, no one ever mentioned anything like that!” “Well, they wouldn’t, would they,” said Adam reasonably. “Since you were already in a band.” He saw that she was completely nonplussed, and told her, “Look, Zan, I’m not friends with any of them, so I don’t know, okay? I’m just telling you how it looked to the rest of us. God knows, if I was seeing a chick in a band, and writing with her, and she’d been playing with us, and then she up and said she was quitting it all, I’d take it as a major slap in the face. So when you go kiss and make up with Jeremy, you make it fucking good, Zanna!” She was still speechless. Adam laughed, saying, “I’m going to go check out SG’s schedule.” He departed, leaving Zanna in complete emotional chaos. Thankful that the rest of Killer App had decided to ignore her, she sat down in a corner. She had truly never seen this coming. She hadn’t really thought about where her collaboration with Jeremy was leading. They worked on songs together, almost because they had to. Because it felt right to do it, wrong not to. She had vaguely thought that Sex Gun might end up using some of the songs as B sides or something, or they might wind up on soundtracks. She supposed it wouldn’t be too surprising if she had played on a recording again, the way she had on Magic Moment. But actually joining Sex Gun – surely Adam was wrong? But she remembered how carefully they’d courted her for Take Two, for Big Day Out. Adam was back, and she almost had a heart attack when she saw who was with him. Daniel da Silva, looking mildly puzzled, apparently not knowing why Adam Leskar would urgently need his presence. His eyes widened when he recognized Zanna; then, with a demonstrativeness that surprised her, he hugged her tightly, knocking off her baseball cap. He said, “Where the fuck have you been, anyway?” She replied, her voice muffled against his shoulder, “On a boat.” “Well, Jesus, Z, don’t do that again, okay?” “All right.” She laughed, a little shakily, as Daniel let her go,

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now beaming at her. She was relieved by his reaction; she’d had no idea how Sex Gun would feel about her, and had visualized everything from stony politeness to outright anger. This affectionate scolding was curiously heartwarming. “So you’re really back?” asked Daniel. “I don’t know,” she answered cautiously. “But I need to see Jeremy.” An unholy grin spread across Daniel’s thin, serious face. “I know exactly how we should do this,” he told her happily. “It’s going to be great.” Zanna eyed him with some trepidation. “What?” “You stay out of sight until we’re on. Then you come out, and play Magic Moment with us.” Adam laughed. “Perfect.” Daniel was nodding enthusiastically. “We haven’t been performing it at all, because it sucks without you,” he said. “So when Jeremy hears those chords, he’s going to freak. It’ll be great.” Zanna wasn’t at all sure that Jeremy freaking was a good thing. “I don’t know about this,” she said doubtfully. “Oh yeah, Z, you gotta do it! Think about it. The last time you saw him, you gave him a bad surprise. This’ll be the good one, it’ll balance everything out. And you can pay him back for dragging you out there at Oceans,” he added. “The lyrics are right,” said Adam, amused. “Talk about taking someone by surprise…” “That is so corny,” she said. “Romance is always corny, Zanna. That’s the nice thing about it.” She looked at Daniel. “How do we work it?” she asked. He let out a delighted crow of laughter. “This is going to be awesome,” he assured her.

And so it was that Zanna was waiting behind the stage, listening to Sex Gun playing Golden Girl late in their set. The next song on the setlist was “I Will Find a Way.” Daniel had picked this as the time for her entrance, because he had a solo at the beginning. This way he could segue into the other song before Arik and Johnny came in. He thought it would be best if the others didn’t know in advance.

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She moved up in the wings, and accepted a guitar from the tech who was the only SG person in on this stunt. He patted her reassuringly on the shoulder and leaned over to say in her ear “Nice to have you back.” Zanna was incredibly nervous. Mostly about Jeremy’s reaction – there was a distinct possibility of public humiliation here, if he wasn’t as happy to see her as Daniel seemed to anticipate. But more than that, she was terribly afraid that it might be too little, too late. And she couldn’t even stand to think what that would mean. Daniel had started his solo. Zanna, taking off her Killer App cap, saw Arik glance at him in surprise, as it changed into something markedly different than his usual intro to the song. Then Daniel looked across to where she waited, and nodded, and she stepped out onto the stage, playing the opening notes to “This Magic Moment.” She sensed, rather than saw, Jeremy spin around at center stage. She looked up and for a long moment their eyes met, as she kept playing. He looked tired, she thought, a little older and more worn than when she’d last seen him. She was almost holding her breath as he stared at her in disbelief. He didn’t look glad to see her, she thought, he just looked shocked… Then he smiled. Slowly at first, then a big, happy sunburst of a grin that spread across his whole face. She could hear Arik and Johnny come in behind her, as Jeremy shook his head, laughing a little. Then he caught the microphone and started to sing. Zanna moved up to the mike the tech had just set out near the front, and came in on the third line. And then they were both well into the rhythm of the song, and doing it as well as they ever had. Jeremy was looking at her, and everyone in the arena could hear the raw emotion in his voice when he got to the part about having everything you want. Daniel crossed the stage to jam with her, and Zanna found herself playing the best lead of her career, matching him note for note, chord for chord. She finished her part with a classic Matt Wilder slash – and- crash, and joined Jeremy at center stage to finish together. She was only dimly aware of the deafening noise of the audience. She slung the guitar off her shoulder, blew a kiss into the blinding

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white light of the spot. Jeremy shoved the microphone out of the way, and said in her ear, “I am so sorry, Z.” “Me, too.” “I love you, Zanna.” She hesitated, then she smiled and said, “Hold that thought,” as she turned and walked off the stage. Jeremy, looking after her, had to smile; it was such a typically Zanna nonresponse. But she was here, and that pretty much said it all. He was suddenly incredibly lighthearted and energized. He did a back handspring, came up laughing, and said into the microphone, “Okay, my life just improved about a thousand per cent!” He turned to Daniel then, and said, “I have no fucking idea what we’re supposed to play next.” In fact, they did a new one, “Fix.” Zanna, standing with Tanner Holt offstage, was jolted by the lyrics, even as she was impressed by the structure of the song. But it was Jeremy all over, she thought. He wasn’t going to pretend it hadn’t happened. It was all there: hurt, anger, confusion. Longing, sex, and passion. And yes, love. That four letter word that wouldn’t let go.

They came off, and Jeremy went immediately to Zanna. Tanner tactfully moved away; Jeremy hadn’t appeared to notice him anyway. He was standing close to her, as usual. He touched her face, brushing her hair back, his hand resting against her cheek. He said slowly, “I hated myself, when you left.” “It wasn’t your fault. I didn’t handle things very well.” “Don’t disappear on me again, Z.” She took a deep breath. “I won’t.” “That a promise?” “Ye-es.” He was teasing a little, now. “That a commitment?” She made a face, laughed, nodded. “Yes.” “Well, god damn.” “Oh, shut up.” He laughed. She said, “I don’t know how this is going to work, but I guess we have to figure that out together.”

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“Together.” He said it slowly, savoring the sound of it. The others gathered around them. Johnny grinned as he remarked, “I don’t know whether I want to kiss you, Zanna, or spank you for that disappearing stunt, but I’m fucking glad you’re back!” Daniel kept patting her shoulder, but it was Arik who said, “So, Zanna. Gonna stick around this time?” His voice was casual, but as he smiled at her, she suddenly knew what he was asking. Oh god, Adam was right. Jetlagged and near exhaustion, almost overwhelmed with the weight of it, here in a dusty crowded hallway in New Orleans, she had to make an irrevocable choice. Was she really going to throw away all those years of education, a respected profession, a secure future? Was she really going to throw in her lot with these notoriously dysfunctional individuals? She looked at them, and realized that over the past few months they had become something more than friends. Arik, the responsible one, sensible and understanding. Daniel, brilliant, sweet, a little goofy. Johnny, easygoing and lighthearted. And Jeremy. Moody, often difficult, hot tempered, passionate, strong willed. Were these people she should hitch her star to? A wave of dizziness washed over her, and she closed her eyes for a moment. She felt Jeremy put his arm around her, heard him say close to her ear, “It’s okay, Z. You don’t need to decide anything now.” Somehow, it was all she needed. With a rush of adrenaline, she opened her eyes and said clearly, “I’m back to stay.” Jeremy’s arm tightened convulsively around her shoulders, Arik’s smile broadened, and Johnny exclaimed “All right, Z!” But it was Daniel, who without speaking, simply reached out and knocked his fist lightly into her hand. Her throat caught as she recognized the band’s trademark gesture, but then Johnny was saying matter of factly “We’ve got work to do,” and turning towards the stage. Jeremy smiled down at her as he steered her to the front, and together they waited as the noise grew to deafening proportions. Daniel and Arik, facing each other, sounded in unison their clear and somber notes, and Johnny came in underneath with a shiver of cymbals. And Sex Gun began to play “If I Could” one more time.

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The end

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