Author's Note

So uh, I accidentally posted chapter 9 as chapter 8 header. If you're reading this, no worries obviously, but, I apologize for any confusion this may have caused earlier! It's been one of THOSE weeks with the ice storm, and, well, check my author's note at the end for more details on why I'm a little bit scattered right now haha.>

---

I almost asked Mom or Dad to go with me for the NYC trip, but since I knew Nicole was going to meet me right there at the station I decided to try and make my first trip solo. I ended up catching an early train the next morning and pulled into the station in New York City around 9:30, which completely shocked me. I knew there were places in the world, especially Japan, where the train always ran on time, and they would actually apologize if there was so much as a 15 second delay. But the U.S. was not one of those places. The train being late was just part of the experience, so having one run on time almost felt unsettling.

I spotted Nicole dressed in a white faux fur coat and leaning against a wall, hands buried in her pockets as she stared ahead, watching people come and go. At first I wasn’t sure if she had seen me, but as soon as I managed to weave my way through the press of people eager to board that rarest of actual on time trains, she pushed off from the wall to approach, giving me a big smile.

“Damn girl,” she said. “You clean up nice. I almost didn’t recognize you.”

I couldn’t help the blush that filled my cheeks as I approached her and giggled. “Thanks,” I said. “My birthday’s this weekend, but my sisters surprised me with an early present for the trip.” I spun around once letting her get a better look, as I was wearing a white cable knit sweater with a really long floral skirt, a new yellow leather jacket, and had even decided to get my ears pierced with my birthstone studs - real sapphire courtesy of Mom and Dad.

I still, however, was wearing my extremely comfortable old sneakers because I knew I’d be doing a ton of walking the next couple of days, and I was not about to sacrifice my poor feet in a pair of shoes I hadn’t broken in yet. Those were only going to come out for dinner tonight, where at least I could sit down if I ended up hating them.

“I love your coat, too. It really pops with that gorgeous black hair.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, my dear,” Nicole laughed. It was a little wild to me, how fast she had accepted me as ‘one of the girls’ in relation to the band. She treated them, and me, like younger sisters most of the time. “The girls are hanging back at the hotel. They didn’t want to start sightseeing without you.”

I gently lifted my camera bag. “I’ve got a brand new prime lens I’m dying to try. I know the band is gun shy about cameras though.”

My wonderful and amazing friends at the Inn had pitched in to buy me a new camera lens for my birthday as well as what my sisters had done, but how they even knew that I didn’t have it, or even the right brand - because there are so many camera brands out there with different lens systems - I had absolutely no idea, and they weren’t talking.

But it was identical to Valerie’s, a nifty fifty, or 50mm 1.2 L, but I’ll admit it looked vastly less impressive on my camera than it did on Valerie’s the other day. While she had a flagship 1DX, I shot on an old 6D that had already enjoyed a previous life when I rescued it from the pawn shop and immediately had to replace the kit lens due to major scratches. Luckily the camera itself was in good shape, but I knew my girl wouldn’t last forever.

“Only cameras that belong to people they don’t know,” Nicole laughed as we walked out onto the street. “Hey, I do have a question for you though. Just something I’ve always wondered about photography in general.”

“What’s that?” I asked, as we stopped at a ‘Don’t Walk’ sign, waiting to cross.

“Well I’ve been a bodyguard for a lot of clients, musicians, models, and before that I was a professional wrestler, so I know all about model release forms. Do street toggers have to deal with all that paperwork every time they snap someone too?”

“Toggers?” I said and then blinked. “Oh! Photographers! Sorry, I heard Shannon use that word before, and I had absolutely no clue what it meant.” I giggled. “But yeah, no, usually the model release forms only come out if it’s a private venue or like, if I wanted to sell exclusive prints of the band as prints of the band rather than as like part of a news story or something. But I still like to ask permission if I can just as a courtesy.”

“Oh, interesting,” NIcole said and nodded. “Thanks Rye.”

“Hey, anytime,” I said. “I love geeking out over not just cameras and camera gear, but the whole art of photography and photojournalism. I just usually keep it to myself because others’ eyes start to glaze over after the first fifteen seconds.”

Nicole laughed out loud at that. “I totally get you. It’s the same for me and my hobbies. And no I’m not telling you,” she said playfully. “Even Shannon doesn’t know what I like to do for fun.”

“Oh come on, can I at least get a hint?” I teased her back.

“Sure,” she laughed again. “I’ll give you the same hint I gave the band. It isn’t something you’d expect based on what you, or they, already know about me.” She winked.

“That is one hell of a hint. You are devious.”

“Why thank you,” Nicole grinned.

~oOo~

Even coming from a relatively large city like Boston, visiting New York City was a whole new level of urban sprawl. Every time I thought that I’d surely be seeing a new borough soon, there would be another dozen streets unfolding before us. But I had an absolute blast with the girls, taking candid photos not just of them - although I did that a lot, but also just random strangers living their lives.

And, rather than the all day clothes shopping that I was dreading just a little bit, the only shops we actually stopped at were a couple of specialty shops, and a place called Raven’s Guitars, with an admittedly badass looking raven logo on the overhead sign.

Contrary to the name, they sold more than just guitars, but they definitely weren’t on the volume of some big box retailer like Guitar Center. The place had a real ‘musicians welcome’ vibe to it, and they had a lot of vintage and new gear, none of which I knew anything about whatsoever. But I found myself thoroughly enjoying listening to the girls gush over every piece of rare merchandise they’d find just hanging on a wall or sitting out on a stand.

Raven, a woman in her late 20s or early 30s with extremely long black hair, and wearing a spikey leather bracelet had come up beside me and Shannon, as the latter had been staring at an acoustic guitar on the wall. It had been signed by Joni Mitchell across the top near the bridge, probably in damn permanent damn marker considering it looked aged, but not smudged or faded too terribly.

“Can I try out the Joni Mitchell D-28?” Shannon asked. Up until that point, I didn’t even know she played guitar. “I didn’t want to knock something over reaching for it myself,” she said.

Raven grinned. “I appreciate the honesty,” she said. “You’d be surprised how many dudes come through here, try and impress me or whatever girl they’re with, and end up leaving with no guitar, and a $1500 plus repair bill. Here ya go,” she said, handing it to her.

Shannon found a stool nearby and sat down. As she started to play ‘Out with the New,’ which was one of the Dolls’ hit singles, I couldn’t help my curiosity.

“Was that really owned by Ms. Mitchell?”

“Nah,” Raven said, smiling as she listened to Shannon play. “It’s a 1965, and from what I know, Joni only ever played a 1956, at least for D-28s. I actually have one of her Ibanez GB-10’s in the back though. Supposedly she was strolling through Central Park one day and ran across the previous owner of that one busking, and stopped to hang out. They talked about music, sang a little, and before leaving, she signed it.”

“Wow,” I said and raised my camera to snap a photo of Shannon, completely lost in the music. . “This thing must be worth a fortune. That’s like, rock history right there.”

“You’d think so,” she said. “Unfortunately without a certificate of authenticity it’s just a really cool story, and a blemished guitar. The other problem is that these old D-28s are solid Brazilian rosewood bodies. Makes it a bitch and a half to carry one across some state lines due to some states regulating rosewood more heavily, nevermind sticky fingered customs agents, without the right permits, so most tourists look at it, hear the story, and then nope right out.”

Shannon giggled as she strummed a few chords of ‘Boulevard of Broken Dreams’ before responding. “I’ve already got the permits. Sinead’s axe has a Brazilian rosewood fretboard where she swapped the neck for her Frankenstrat a couple of years ago.” She looked up. “Do you do pleks? The frets feel a little uneven, but my Gosh I’m in love with the sustain.”

“Absolutely,” she said. “My cousin Maddie’s got you. I’m guessing you’re going to want a flight case too,” she added.

“Please?” Shannon giggled. “Thanks so much,” she said as she stood, handing the guitar back. “I’m actually buying it for a friend, but I want it to get to her safely, and, well, I don’t trust either FedEx or UPS to handle with care.”

“Oh, I completely understand,” Raven laughed. “We do a lot of postal special repair work.”

“What the plek is a plek?” I said jokingly as we joined Sinead and Alyssa who were exploring the vintage synth gear. Alyssa was admiring a keytar thoughtfully. Unlike the monstrous red and black prototype Robin had played at that first show last month, this one was more of what I pictured when I thought of a keytar, with mini keys and a very 80s aesthetic.

“Oh,” Shannon giggled, “It’s like a CNC machine plus a 3D scanner had an unholy love child, except it’s explicitly made for guitar and bass necks. It grinds down any uneven frets, carves the nut, planes the fretboard, that sort of thing. A good luthier can do it by hand, but the machine can do it in minutes where it’s an all day job by hand. Some people swear it won’t be as precise either, but,” she shrugged.

“Still takes a skilled technician to set up the machine and do the scan proper though,” Sinead said. “I got mine plecked by an amateur who thought he could just put in the profile and be done with it. Ended up costing me a good guitar neck, so I frankenstratted it. You bought the acoustic? I heard you playing,” she said, glancing at Shannon.

“Yeah,” Shannon grinned as she squeezed my hand. “Riley was just telling me the other day how Megyn is a huge Joni Mitchell fan so I thought I’d surprise her. You think she’ll like it?” she asked, looking at me.

“She’s going to faint,” I laughed, getting a giggle out of the others.

“Low key want to teach Rye to play bass so I can play one of these on stage,” Alyssa sighed, putting the oddly 80s instrument back on its stand.

“”I might be able to plunk out ‘Mary Had a Little Lamb’ in a few months of trial and error,” I said, shaking my head. “That’s about as far as I got with the recorder in grade school, anyway.”

“Should try a tin whistle,” Sinead laughed. “They’re a lot more forgiving than those torture devices Americans call recorders. But hey, you ever want to learn to play, don’t even hesitate to ask, yeah?”

“Oh totally,” Alyssa chimed in. “I was just razzing you before, but before I joined the Dolls I taught piano lessons to make ends meet. I genuinely love teaching.”

“Thanks,” I said, “I may take you up on that someday. You guys’ energy for music is just so infectious.”

“Not gonna lie,” Shannon giggled, “So is your enthusiasm for photography. The way your face lights up just before you raise your camera is just so adorable.”

“Right?” Sinead giggled. “I wish my boyfriend had, like, any kind of interests or hobbies beyond acting. Even Jamie,” Jamie being Alyssa’s new boyfriend, “does these really cool scrap metal sculptures.”

As we talked, a woman with shoulder length blonde hair in tight ringlets approached. She was carrying Shannon’s new guitar in one hand, and a heavy duty case in the other. “Shannon?” she said, grinning. “Raven said you gals were in the shop. I didn’t believe her at first. Let me know what you think, and if I need to make any tweaks. I put the old strings back on for now since I didn’t know your brand preference either, but it’s all in the purchase price.”

“You’re not just saying that because we’re famous, are you?” Shannon teased as she held the guitar in her hands, feeling up and down the fretboard.

Maddie laughed. “Nah, everything over $800 gets a free plek setup if desired. But in the interest of full honesty I will admit I handle all professional bands’ requests rather than putting the pressure off on one of our hired techs. That way if something goes south I can only blame myself.”

“This is perfect,” Shannon said. “Thanks so much. I’m pretty string agnostic for acoustic. What are the ones that are on now? They really sing with the rosewood.”

“These I believe are Elixir Phosphor Bronze,” Maddie said. “I put Elixir strings on everything that sits on the wall for awhile because of the corrosion resistance. Want me to restring her with a fresh set?” she asked.

“Please,” Shannon said. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” Maddie said cheerfully as Shannon picked up the empty case, walking to the front counter to pay. Tara was already there chatting with Raven, a ‘Raven’s Guitars’ shopping bag at her side, and a huge grin on her face.

“Oh I am totally coming back here again when we’re not on tour,” Tara was saying. “This place is like my nirvana.” She paused and they both laughed. “Not the band obviously.” She turned to us. “You guuuuys I am so pumped. They had a Rogers swiv-o-matic double bass pedal that some mad lad fully restored to like new! My ludwig hinge is about to give up the ghost.”

“If you have anything you want us to keep an eye out for,” Raven said as she rang up Shannon’s guitar and case, “Just let us know. We’re always hitting estate sales and junk shops hoping to find a diamond in the rough.”

“There is something,” Alyssa said. “If you ever come across a first run Fender signature Flea bass in pink-” she began and Raven’s lips parted into a wide grin.

“Actually?” she said.

“No bloody way. You have one?! All I can find online are either second runs, or ones being gouged to hell and back because lol collectors dude. Like don’t get me wrong, they’re amazing, but they are not worth $8000.”

“Don’t get too excited yet though,” Raven said. “It’s missing the original pick guard, and someone replaced it with an oval shaped one in lime green, so it’s got like a reverse melon thing going.”

“Oh I HAVE to see this,” Alyssa said, following Raven. We could actually hear her shout “Oh my God it’s perfect!” from the back of the store as Maddie brought Shannon’s acoustic out to her.

“Sounds like I’ve got another plek to set up,” Maddie laughed softly.

~oOo~

I wore my new black suede Chelsea boots out to dinner that night, though thankfully it was nothing fancier than our last few dinner dates. Shawn had taken Sinead to some upscale restaurant, but Alyssa, her boyfriend Jamie, Tara, and Shannon and I opted to keep it low key and found a great little family owned deli over in the Bronx. Afterwards we met up with Sinead and Shawn to catch a shadowcast performance of The Rocky Horror Picture Show.

I had never been to one and had absolutely no clue what to expect, and wondered why we were given bags of confetti, water pistols, and other seemingly random props, but Sinead had the biggest excited smile.

“Don’t worry,” she’d said. “Shawn is a virgin too.”

Shawn leaned over to me and said, “Apparently that’s what they call us fans that have never been to a shadowcast.”

“Oh, I was wondering,” I giggled.

It’s definitely one of those ‘if you know’ you know’ situations, but we had an absolute blast. We even got up and danced several times along with the shadowcast actors, and by the time we got back to the hotel, we just kind of collapsed.

The next couple of days were a blur of excitement and activity, planning out what we were going to wear for the premiere, meeting with Serena to get ideas from her and the like.

I won’t lie, shopping for evening gowns, trying to match without clashing with each other or looking too similar, it gave me a whole new perspective on what poor Christie had gone through for our senior prom, and she had gone stag, like me. Even at that, I just showed up in an itchy tux, occasionally moved around like I knew how to dance, and, mostly took pictures.

Now? Now I was trying on sheaths, chemises, symmetric, asymmetric, sequins, silk, satin, suede - you get the idea. And you’d think with my short red hair, although I had been letting it grow, that I’d at least be safe from the wrath of the stylists, but then I was introduced to this thing called hair extensions!

I admit the end result left me feeling like an actual princess though, and walking the red carpet on Shannon’s arm - not least so that I could be sure I kept my balance, as this was only my second day in heels after spending a day in them before just to try and get a very literal crash course, made the whole ordeal worth it.

The movie itself was truly a comedy masterpiece, too. Jack Black as the older ‘mentor’ to the younger character of Kyle, desperately trying to find this mystery girl Kyle had fallen wildly in love with through a chance meeting, but never got her name, was definitely something I could relate to on some level.

I don’t think there was a dry eye in the house by the end though, with the comedic payoff. Shawn’s character Alex finally caught up to Kyle and Mack, Jack Black’s character, as well as the mystery girl, Roxanne.

Kyle turned to Alex, demanding to know why the hell he’d been stalking them this whole time. Alex then produced a red handbag and handed it to Roxanne with a dopey ‘You forgot this, Miss’ and Kyle realizing Roxanne’s ID was in the purse, discovers he could have just saved himself all that trouble.

“Well,” Mack said, turning to look at the camera, “It’s like they say. Life is a highway. It’s about the journey, and the adventure you have along the way.”

Kyle rolled his eyes. “Shut up, Mack.” and the screen faded out..

“Oscar material right there,” I overheard someone behind us laugh as we got up to leave the theater, as the credits rolled.

“I can’t believe they only used one of your songs,” I said, and Shannon stopped, grinning back at me. “Wait for it,” she said, pointing at the screen. A moment later, the orchestra music that had been playing began to shift, and then I heard it. They were playing a Midnight Dolls cover of “Life is a Highway,” except Shannon and Jack had turned it into a duet, playing off each other.

“There it is!” Sinead giggled loudly. “They’re actually using another of our songs in the director’s cut too. But they had to cut it for time in the theater run. But they actually let us cut a cover of the title song to close out. That’s even me singing backup vocals.”

“That is amazing,” I said, raising my voice to be heard over the crowd and the music, as we made our way back to the lobby. “It’s just too bad you had to miss the Hollywood premiere.”

“Eh, this was way more fun,” Shawn grinned as a camera flash caught us. Mr. Max was at it again, but at least this time it wasn’t backstage at a concert, and the cat was out of the bag already. I was officially famous for being famous. At least I wasn’t alone. Poor Jamie, Alyssa’s new boyfriend, was just as new to all this as me.

Before this, he was a house EDM DJ just scraping together enough club and private venue gigs to make ends meet. Now he suddenly found himself in need of an actual agent to deal with appearance requests. At least I was just ‘some girl from Boston’ without anything for the masses of corporate slugs to exploit.

Of course, if they wanted to keep sending their talent to the Green-Eyed Maid Inn to meet the hostess and enjoy a semi authentic historical stay, as Ms. Winters apparently had decided, I also wasn’t going to complain.

---

Author’s Note:
So funny story. I wrote this chapter months ago, having never had a bad experience with either UPS or FedEx. I spotted a KILLER deal on a rare 50th Anniversary Taylor (they only made 1,974 to commemorate the founding year) and thought “Oh the storm will be clear by the time it gets here”. Aaand guess what UPS managed to lose?

Delivery driver literally showed up, said “Oh, it’s not on my truck. Sorry about that.” and a day later, it’s still listed as “Emergency or severe weather delay”. I’ll have to call the seller Monday to get them to initiate a package trace and investigation, but as it stands, there are probably 1,973 of them now. Thanks, UPS.