JEM Stars
a JEM fanfic by D.L. SchizoAuthoress
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"Man!" Hannah exclaimed, listening to the music that the other bands were playing, "This crowd's really into that shit. They'll hate us! We'll probably get tossed off the stage!"

"What are they gonna do," Bella demanded, "throw beer bottles at us? We can take it."

"Hell yeah!" Roxanne crowed, pumping her fist in the air to show her excitement.

Davis, meanwhile, said to his worried bandmate, "Don't worry about it, Hannah. We've got fans, too. I wouldn't have gotten us this gig if there wasn't interest in our music."

Roxanne held back a scornful remark directed at Hannah, only craning her neck to look over the other woman's head. There were a few punkishly attired people near the stage, and if she listened well, she could hear them over the awful music being pumped out of the speakers.

"Get off the stage!" and "We want the Pins!" accompanied a hail of beer cans and bottles, not to mention the occasional handful of cardboard drink coasters. (Fortunately for the bands onstage, there was a screen shielding them from such missles.) Roxanne smiled. Hannah had no reason to be concerned; Davis was one of the best all-around band leaders she knew. He was a good musician and lead vocalist, he understood the value and methods of good publicity (especially word-of-mouth), and he took care of his backing musicians without acting like they didn't have good sense. Roxanne had been in a few other bands before the Unsafety Pins - mostly cover bands and go-nowhere, do-nothing garage affairs - and none of them had treated her right. She might have had valid complaints about Hannah, but she liked and respected Davis and Bella both.

Finally, it was time for the Unsafety Pins to take the stage. The backdrop curtains closed, and the previous band hustled off the stage. Everybody had to move quick; the weekend crowd at the campus club could get pretty rowdy if they had to wait too long between sets. Roxanne hauled her drum kit onstage by herself. She had to, because everybody else was sorting out the tangle of wiring that hooked up to the amplifiers. Usually, the places that the Unsafety Pins played at were strictly BYOE - Bring Your Own Equipment - but this club let every band use the same sound system, and Davis was trying to take advantage of that.

"Trying" was the operative word - Hannah wasn't making anything very easy. She kept trying to plug into the amp that Bella and the other band's lead guitarist were already starting to switch places on, and when Bella shoved her away, she stormed over to Davis. He'd already grabbed another amp for his guitar (since Davis also played backup) and was too busy doing a mic check to bother with Hannah's problems.

Roxanne checked her watch. Davis had wanted everything set in five minutes. They were already pushing it, and their bass player wasn't even plugged in, much less in place. She got up and, holding her drumsticks between clenched teeth, snatched the instrument from Hannah and located an amplifier that was free. Hooking up the equipment was a breeze for her, and she shoved the bass guitar back at Hannah just as Davis gave them the Look.

The Look was Bella's joking name for how Davis would always piercingly glance over his shoulder at each of them after their set-up time had elapsed. Roxanne scurried behind her drumkit, and hoped that Davis could buy Hannah some time to tune up a little. She knew she didn't have to say anything about it, because Davis could read the panic in Hannah's eyes. The other musician was long gone, and Bella smiled reassuringly at her boyfriend. Roxanne gave him a quick nod and a thumbs-up, and then the curtain rose.

"I see we've got some fans in here!" Davis said, going directly into his stage persona. He swaggered up to the microphone stand near the front of the stage, flanked by Bella on his right and Hannah on his left. The black-haired girl was frantically tuning up, but Bella was ready.

"How'd they get past security?" she said into her microphone, "Most of 'em look like they could trash everybody else in this place without trying!" That statement was met with shouts and cheers from the fans.

Davis grinned and replied, "Well, hell, why don't we give them some music to do it by?"

"All right!" Phyllis shouted. Finally, a band that knew what was hot. Disco might have been the popular choice of the day, but rock music was what had a future. She was absurdly pleased to see that white-haired, pink-eyed woman in the band. Somehow, it would have been totally wrong had she been with any other group.

The tall black man, made taller by his extravagant platform boots, was obviously Davis, the frontman of the Unsafety Pins. He strutted across the stage as the bleach-blonde woman in red jammed on the lead guitar. The fans screamed their approval, recognizing a familiar riff from the Pins original repitoire. "Hey, Bella, I think they like that!" Davis Kemp said, grinning.

"Yeah, Hannah, don't leave 'em hanging. Roxanne's gonna kill you." Bella said to her fellow guitar player. The black-haired girl across the stage glared at her and started to play. It was clear that she wasn't as skilled as Bella, or even Davis, once he joined in.

'Roxanne,' Phyllis thought, 'that must be the drummer. I wonder what's between her and that crappy bass player?'

Roxanne quickly revealed her musical prowess on the drums, and Davis started singing the song. Phyllis tried to pay attention to the lyrics, but the hypnotically driving beat that Roxanne was pounding out captured her ear. She wanted that sound, wanted that power backing her up when she sang. She hadn't been looking for it, but now that she'd found it, there was no way that she was going to let it go.

"We're being shadowed," Bella remarked to Roxanne, indicating with her eyes where the drummer ought to look. Roxanne whirled around and peered through the half-lit gloom of the alley in time to see a flash of bright green as someone jumped backward and pressed against the wall.

Phyllis gasped, feeling her heart hammering wildly in her chest. She hadn't expected anybody to notice her, much less for Roxanne to move so suddenly in looking for her. However, as soon as she felt the slimy puddle-water from the alley soaking into her pumps, Phyllis felt foolish. There was no need for her to sneak around after the Unsafety Pins - it was a free country, and she had a legitimate reason to talk to them.

"Who's over there?" Roxanne barked.

"Goddammit!" Phyllis cried, stepping into the circle of pavement wanly illuminated by a flickering streetlight. She shook her feet like a housecat shedding water from its back paws and accused shrilly, "You scared the hell out of me! These shoes are totally ruined now!"

"Hey, Rox," Bella said, elbowing Roxanne in the ribs gently, "it's that loud girl that wasted your beer."

Phyllis stormed up to the two older girls, grumbling, "I am not loud!"

"Did you want an autograph or something, kid?" Roxanne asked, smirking.

"No!" Phyllis retorted, fuming, as she glared at Roxanne. Only idiots ever asked for autographs! She laid a hand on her chest and declared, "I'm a musician, too. From L.A."

"Yeah?" Roxanne murmured, intrigued.

"Oh, yeah. I'm looking for a backing band, y'see." Phyllis lied easily, "My old band really sucked, and you know how it goes. Had to cut and run, or suffer being stuck with those losers forever."

Roxanne nodded, recalling her own experiences with former bandmates, particularly the fights she'd often had with the songwriter of Human Wreckage. That had been the really bad time right before Javier had introduced her to Davis and Bella. "That's why you came back East, huh?"

Seeing that the older woman wasn't challenging her lie, Phyllis continued more truthfully, "I'm more of a singer than anything, and I've got this friend, who works at Club Avernes - she writes some really good stuff. Her name's Slay, and-"

"Oh, piss on this," Bella snapped, rubbing her bare arms vigorously. "You two can yammer about music indoors somewhere. I'm freezing!"

Phyllis and Roxanne broke gazes, and both looked at Bella. "Oh, right..." Phyllis said vaguely. "Um, you want my jacket?"

The guitarist grinned ruefully. "Nah. You need it more'n me, California girl." She put her arm around Roxanne's shoulders and said, "C'mon, if we run to the car, it might warm me up a bit."

"I'm going to be eighteen in October."

Phyllis wasn't sure why she always seemed to be defending herself around Roxanne. The rest of the Unsafety Pins were obviously a lot older than Phyllis, all in their early to mid-twenties, with Roxanne as the youngest at twenty.

The young woman leaned close and murmured in the green-haired girl's left ear, "I just had a birthday this January. I'm not that much older than you."

Phyllis shot Roxanne a grateful look. For all her posturing and rudeness, Roxanne was okay.

The rest of the night was spent in the bar - most of their companions were drunk, but Roxanne was the designated driver and the bartender had carded Phyllis the moment they walked in, so the two ladies talked.

"It's totally not fair," Roxanne sneered, glad to finally be voicing her opinion on Hannah to someone who might take her side. "That bitch gets to play bass just because she fucks Javier, who pays rent on the place we stay at. And she's shit."

"Yeah she is," Phyllis agreed, swirling her straw and making the cherries at the bottom of her Roy Rogers appear against the yellowish glass. She glanced across the large round table at Hannah and Javier, distastefully noting how sloppily they made out.

"I can play bass guitar," Roxanne bragged, "way better than that bitch. And you heard me on drums."

Dispensing one of her rare compliments, Phyllis said simply, "I love your style."

Roxanne grinned. "Thanks. Drummers don't get many fans, you know. We're in the background - practically blend in with the curtains..."

"No way!" Phyllis exclaimed, "Roxy, sweetie, if there's anything you NEVER do, it's blend in. People who blend in get trampled!"

Thinking quickly, Phyllis realized that she had to offer Roxanne something big to get her - a chance to make it, away from Philadelphia and all the people that didn't believe in her. She laid a hand atop of Roxanne's, and said honestly, "I mean it, Roxy. You're worth a lot more than this," she waved her free hand slightly, indicating the whole of the bar, the neighborhood, the way of life, "and you shouldn't take their crap. Slumming it; that's all they expect you to do, isn't it?"

Roxanne glanced down at Phyllis's soft, pretty hand lying atop her own. The younger woman saw a lot, with those hard green eyes, than most people ever cared to see about her.

"I think you can do more." Phyllis paused, then said firmly, "I know it."

"Nah," Roxanne said softly, "ain't nothing more for me than this. Ain't no way out."

Phyllis smiled. "Yes, there is. We'll go to Los Angeles; Slay's been after me to get us another member - if your guitar-playing is anything like your drumming, you'd be perfect!"

Perfect. There hadn't been anyone to call her perfect, ever.

Roxanne herded her drunken bandmates up the stairs. Link had swung by the bar and taken Javier's keys, so at least both vehicles were around. They all collapsed in various places around the apartment - Bella and Davis had the bed tonight - and she sat at the kitchen table, unable to quiet the storm of thoughts keeping her awake.

Roxanne wasn't perfect. Far from it. Didn't mean that she didn't like the sound of it, being called that. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the coaster that Phyllis had scribbled a phone number on.

'Just think about it,' Phyllis said, 'and give me a call. I'll only be here for a few more days, though...'

This was it. Roxanne allowed herself to smile, to hope. This was the chance that she hadn't dared dream about.

She grabbed the phone from the counter and dialed.