Page 41 of After Effect

Chapter 11

Lilly Cisneros

My motorcycle fired to life with the deep rumble of an L-Twin and the distinctive clattering of a Ducati dry clutch. The new bike was an indulgent purchase, admittedly, but with how much time I had to spend riding to LA as of late, my eight-horsepower scooter wasn’t cutting it anymore. Plus, the bright red Italian stallion was doing wonders for my sex appeal. I’m pretty sure it sold at least enough albums to cover the price. It looked perfectly at home in front of that posh, big city coffee shop.

I traded my sunglasses for my full face race helmet, thankful it gave me an extra bit of anonymity. People had finally started recognizing me every now and again. I guess this was the big time. Or at least the medium time. I would still be lucky to be able to draw the crowd I need for The Bass Jumpers Tour this weekend at my current level of fame. Finchy was so pissed. And he should have been.

I basically offered the boss his career for mine. I needed to make sure this was successful, but I only had about a day and a half left to drum up excitement. How hard could it be?

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“GOD, this is fucking hard.” I exhaled as I slumped against the walls of the Chinese theatre. I miss the simpler days where I was able to reserve that phrase exclusively for Finchy’s dick. It turns out, not nearly as many people listen to the radio these days as I thought. Half the crowd had no idea who I was, and the other half, which seemed to be composed largely of teenage girls, was too busy or too broke to go to the show anyway. This is what I get for singing the musical equivalent of a trashy romance novel.

Maybe I really did need some kind of a scandal. Maybe I could rob a liquor store or have sex in public or something. I wonder if Finch would go for that? Heh.

I guess I can just show up on Saturday and see what happens. Maybe I’ll be able to woo the leftover crowd from Murder of Crowbars. There’s no guarantee that this is going to be an utter disaster. I bet everyone at these big tours has massive crowds by default.

“FUCK.” My phone started ringing and I glanced at the caller ID. Finchy. As always. Probably wants to talk promo strategies or some other annoyingly logical and helpful line of conversation. I should answer.

The phone kept ringing as I stared at the screen. Five rings. Six. Voicemail. I’ll call him back in a second. I need to get my head right first…

I flipped open my phone and scrolled through my contacts. There’s the one. It only took two rings before she picked up.

“Annabelle! It’s been a little while.”

“What do you want, Lilly?” Her voice is so sexy when she’s angry.

“Why would you assume I want something? Can’t I call just to chat?”

“You? No. It’s been over a year. You’re lucky I even answered. I guess I haven’t gotten tired of being used by you.”

I suppose I deserve that. “Oh Anna baby, you know I never wanted it to end that way.”

“Save it. If you weren’t borderline famous these days I would have hung up a long time ago. Now what the hell do you actually want?”

Eesh, who’s using who, now? “How’s your catering business going?”

“Can’t afford food on that rock star salary yet? You’re not getting more free lunches.”

“No no no! I was just wondering if you’ve got any good… uh… networking luncheons coming up that might benefit from a free musical performance from THE up and coming Lilly Cisneros. Maybe? Possibly?

… Please say yes.”

The line fell silent for long enough that I pulled the phone away from my ear to verify I hadn’t dropped the call. Nope, timer is still counting.

“Are you still there Annabellnana?”

“First of all.” Ah, there she is. Still angry, but at least she’s talking. “What the fuck. Don’t ever call me that again.”

“Done and done.”

“Second of all… I actually do have an event that might fit the bill if you can make it short notice. It’s tomorrow. It’s a wedding in Camarillo, and the bride is, annoyingly enough, a big fan of yours.”

“Is it a… big wedding?”

“Bitch, have you ever met a Camarillo horse chick who had a small wedding?”

“I’m in. Consider this an apology for literally everything.”

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