It didn't hit Dani just how much money Daddy had given her until she opened her own checking account. The teller got the supervisor, who got the manager, who got someone in a three-piece suit, who called her dad to verify the check was legitimate.
Within a week, she had a checkbook, a purse full of credit cards and a spending limit beyond anything she'd thought possible.
The band would get everything they needed—lights, better amps, sound equipment, everything top of the line. It amazed her how much stuff her bandmates didn't know they needed until she had money to pay for it.
Oh well, not like it's going to clean me out. There'll be plenty left for me and Jon to start a life after I graduate, even if the band doesn't make it big.
She had no idea what a house cost but was sure she had more than enough.
That Saturday, Basil loaded the band into his Cadillac and headed south to LA Dani sat in Jon's lap in the back seat looking out the window, not bothering to make him watch his hands. Not like it's a secret. They hadn't been alone since her birthday, but she knew it was just a matter of time.
"Best costume designer in LA," Basil said. "Works with all the big names. We're lucky to get in on short notice."
Up front in the passenger seat, Bobby popped in a demo cassette. Lone guitar, simple riff. Basil nodded and tapped the beat on the steering wheel as Bobby's thin voice came over the speakers:
"Give me a ticket for the fornication station
The night is still young, and I'm way behind…"
The rest of the lyrics made Dani blush, embarrassed even to listen to it in a carful of guys.
After listening through the song twice, Basil grunted. "Chorus works, riff's good. I'll fix the verses. Dani sings this one."
"I'm not singing that."
"Dani already sings two songs in our set," Jon cut in. "What am I supposed to do while she's in the spotlight?"
"I'm not singing that," Dani repeated, her voice lost in the mix as everyone spoke over each other.
"Shake a tambourine or something," Basil hollered, glaring at Jon in the rearview mirror. "Heck, have Bobby teach you the three chords he knows, and you can play along."
"C'mon, quit ragging on Bobby," Marc said. "He's not that bad."
Dani and Cal voiced agreement.
"Forget it," Bobby said, punching the eject button. "It's my song. She's not—"
"
"Not singing it," Dani singsonged above the jabber. "I will not sing it here or there. I will not sing it anywhere."
That silenced things for all of three seconds.
"You saying something's wrong with my song?"
"Trust me," Basil said once things settled down. "Dani sings this one, I'll get it on the radio."
"My dad would kill me."
"He already paid for the video," Basil said, the car swerving dangerously close to the center line as he argued into the mirror. "Besides, he's a stump-jumper. Not like he's coming to an Inferno show, and they sure aren't going to play it on the gospel channel."
Dani hung her head. He wasn't wrong. Daddy had agreed to let her make her own decisions, but she knew he didn't approve of Inferno's brand of music. No way he'd come to a concert, not even to see her.
Fornication station, huh? She beat back a tinge of shame. Train's already left that destination. Not like playing in a band is the worst thing I've done lately.
***
Greg was waiting at the shop when Vic and Dad arrived. He offered to help his old sergeant out of the truck, but backed up, hands high, and smiled when Dad glared at him. In a matter of minutes, the trio stood inside over what was left of Dani's GTO.
"You'd think she could buy her own now," Vic said. "Easier to replace it. Cheaper."
Dad didn't seem to hear as he did slow laps around the wreck.
Greg popped the hood and made a face. "Ain't unfixable."
"Come on," Vic said. "Money it'd take to get this back on the road—it's not worth it."
Dad set both hands on the twisted bumper. "We're fixing it."
"Maybe it's not as bad as it looks," Greg offered.
"It's every bit as bad," Dad said.
Vic shook his head. "As a partner, I have to say, this isn't good use of—"
"So, Dani's playing in a band now?" Greg stepped between the two.
Vic narrowed his eyes. He's needling me.
"Dani's got a good head on her shoulders," Greg said, checking the motor mounts. "How bad can it be?"
What Dani are you talking about?
"You don't know the half of it," Vic said.
"Bet you haven't even seen her show."
Vic turned his back, pretending to focus on the car.
Why'd I hire this guy back, anyway?
Dad's voice was barely audible from under the hood, but his words were final. "We're fixing this."
***
"I'm not wearing this," Dani called out. Inside the dressing room, she looked in the full-length mirror. The outfit, mostly red lace, covered her most private parts. Barely.
"C'mon, let's see it," Basil said, all but Cal chirping agreement.
"One of us already has." Marc laughed.
Dani stiffened. Checked the door. Locked. Good.
"I'm not wearing this."
I look like a stripper.
She reached for her stonewashed jeans and T-shirt as the guys outside argued in hushed tones.
"It's just a costume, Dani," Jon said as she slipped the T-shirt over her head. "It's just us. Don't be such a—"
"Fine." She tossed the shirt aside and opened the door. Hands on hips. Weight on one foot. Glaring. Where's Cal? She bit her lip hard to stop tears as the rest of the band, and Basil, whooped and hollered. Retreated. Shut the door.
"That one," she heard Basil telling the designer as she dressed. "And one just like it in black—but cut it closer. How soon can we get 'em? Just booked our biggest show yet."
Dani felt like a hooker.
***
"No time for this. Got stuff on my mind." Vic shooed Teddy Bear, but Dani's dog wasn't having it. He'd get up, do a couple of "idiot laps," as Dad always called them, and curl back around Vic's feet. Worse, every so often, he would stare, wait for Vic to make eye contact, and emit a low, whiny growl, almost a whimper. Vic tried letting him outside. The dog looked at him like he was nuts.
The dog finally plodded off into Dani's room after Vic tripped over him on his way to answer the phone.
Julie.
"Just listen." Her voice was steady as ever. "Sorry if I was hard on you. A missionary, though? That's heavy stuff."
"Being a cop isn't?"
Vic moved the receiver away from his ear, looking at it in response to a solid buzzing sound. "Got another call. Hold on a sec."
Kari.
"Look, I'm going to talk to Dani, but I wanted to talk to you first. I know she's been playing in that band and you know why that's not OK. I have to tell her it's either them or us. She can't play in the praise band if—"
Promising to call her back, Vic clicked back to Julie.
"Look, I'm not even sure I'll be able to go on the mission field," Vic said. "With Dani chasing this stupid band thing, I'm going to be stuck here helping Dad. Maybe for a long time. Someone has to."
"Sorry you're stuck there," Julie said. "I know how that feels. Kind of what I called to tell you. Didn't want you to hear it from—"
"Hold on a sec, got another call coming in."
"Again?"
Shelly.
"Dani's not here. Try Jon's."
"I always know where Dani is." Shelly spoke in hushed tones, faster than she usually talked. "Listen, I'm calling because I don't know who else—"
"I have a call on the other line. Can I call you back?"
"You've got to get her away from those guys."
The usually giddy, giggly Shelly was sniffling. Vic forgot about the other line.
"Listen, he's going around telling everyone."
Who's telling what?
Vic decided to leave the question unasked, not sure he wanted the answer.
"I'm so sorry," Shelly sobbed openly. "I didn't know, or I never would have introduced her to those guys. Listen, if anyone can tell her, you can, but you can't tell her I told you."
"Told me what?"
"He's seeing other girls."
Vic sighed. Relief. That might actually be good news. If he was going around bragging about two-timing Dani, she'd put a stop to that. Fast. Vic shuddered, almost feeling sorry for Jon.
He ended the conversation and clicked back to Julie. Nothing. Tried calling her back. No answer. Guess I'll try later.
***
Back in street clothes, Dani imagined her face was still as red as the glorified teddy Basil wanted her to perform in. She bit back tears.
No way I'm going to let them see me cry.
Taking deep breaths, she put her foot down. "I'm not—"
"Listen," Basil's tone was soft but firm. "You want to sell records? You want to fill seats? Show 'em a little leg."
As if leg is all that getup shows.
"Jon, you can't possibly be OK with the whole world seeing me like that?"
"We're a rock band," Jon said, lighting a cigarette—something else he'd told her he'd quit. "Ain't gonna kill you."
"That's settled, then," Basil said. "Now we just need—"
"She said she don't want to wear it." Bobby jumped in with a stream of expletives. "Look at her. She's ready to cry."
Cal looked at Bobby sideways, but he and Marc fell in behind him, calling on Basil to ease up.
"We're a good band," Bobby continued. "She don't want to play half-naked, she shouldn't have to."
Slumping, Jon stammered, "Can't she wear something else? Not like she's the singer."
Basil shook his head but relented. Two more hours of trying things on and arguing back and forth later, they finally picked out a pair of stage outfits he'd approve that Dani could live with. They showed more than she would have liked, but at least they didn't make her feel like something out of a girlie magazine.
Long as Daddy never sees me in them. He'd die.
Next, it was the Ryder brothers' turn to find outfits. Sitting in the lobby with Bobby and Marc, Dani thanked Bobby for speaking up.
He waved her off. "We both know why I'm still here. And you don't have to tell me again. I know I need to call Shelly and work something out."
Her look must have asked the question for her.
"I don't know. Soon."
"Pay phone's outside."
Before he could object, she slapped a handful of change on the end table between them.
***
Dad's voice echoed off the shop walls, startling Vic awake. He rounded up the missionary brochures he'd scattered over his desk.
"Please!" Dad prayed.
He must not realize I'm still here. Vic could count the times he'd heard his father raise his voice on one hand. Now, his voice had all the fervor of a Marine barking orders on the beachhead.
"Guard Dani. Protect her. Protect her friends."
Vic silently prayed along. Who knows? Dani could turn around.
"God, I'm afraid I've made a mistake."
Not your fault. Vic considered letting Dad know he was there until sobs echoed off the shop walls. Gonna be hard on him if Dani crashes and burns.
"Lord, I feel helpless here, and I don't know what to do with that. I've done my best to steer my kids in the right ways, especially since I've known You. There has to be something I can do other than watch as they turn their backs on what I've built for them."
Vic looked at the brochures one last time before laying them as quietly as he could in the wastepaper basket.