Daylight

Pet’s POV

I grabbed some coffee and a bagel, ignoring Mo’s chatter. Too early for this shit.

As I neared the table, a vaguely familiar woman with dark hair swiveled in her seat and beamed at me.
I smiled back, but truthfully, my brain wasn’t quite working yet. I was more concerned with a rather large box standing near the table.
I looked in it and shrieked.
My keyboards! I jumped up and down in excitement.
“Is this the surprise?” I hollered.
Aunt Viv shrugged. “Part of it,” she answered calmly. “I’m glad to see it finally caught up with you guys.”
“I was afraid we’d never get them,” I remarked, my brain suddenly reeling with a list of songs we could now perform.

The dark-haired woman at the table was looking right at me when I glanced her way again.
“Petula, right?” the brunette asked.
I cut a look at Aunt Viv. “Uh, right. I’m sorry, I’m terrible with names these days,” I apologized. “So many new faces.”
“No problem,” she answered. “Your aunt introduced us, but it’s been a couple weeks. I’m Jenny…Jenny Eliscu. From Rolling Stone?”

Goddamn, I almost dropped my food.

I wheeled around at my aunt accusingly. “You…how long have you known each other?” I sputtered. “And why didn’t you tell me who she was?”
“A couple of years…and…I guess…it never came up,” Viv said faintly.
“Are you kidding me??” I shrieked.

The girls were enjoying themselves; apparently Jenny’s identity wasn’t as much a secret to them as it had been to me.

“Who already knew who Jenny was?” I asked my friends.
Tia, Mo and Sal all raised their hands.
I sank into my seat. “Damn.”

Jenny smiled kindly at my stupidity.
“After you eat, we’re doing a brief interview,” she informed me. “It’ll be online first, then in the magazine in a few weeks.” Then she nodded at Aunt Viv. “Three guesses as to who arranged this.”
Viv shrugged. “That’s why I couldn’t tell you what we were doing, honey. Too many ears out there.”
“Aunt Viv,” I said slowly, “you could lose your job.”
“Nah,” she responded. “The way I see it, AP already got their exclusive with you ladies. Now you’re fair game.” She smiled. “Besides, Jenny was planning to talk to you anyway; I was just the facilitator.”
Jenny chortled. “Is that what you’re gonna tell Tim Karan when he fires your ass?” she wondered.
“Yeah, let’s just not discuss that right now,” my aunt remarked.
Jenny turned back to me. “We also have a photographer on hand; she’s got a setup behind this tent. All very casual. It’ll be fun, I promise.”

After I finally got some food, we went to meet the photographer in her makeshift studio. As we walked up, I could see the Madmen standing around, talking to her as she adjusted lights and assorted curtains. Joe caught my eye and gave me a little wave. I smiled back at him and winked.

I watched as Joe turned to the photographer and started chatting her up, along with the other guys, but still managing to keep one eye on me. I was oddly pleased at this. Mo huffed, interrupting our little exchange.
“What the hell are they doing here?” she muttered.
Jenny heard Mo’s remark and shrugged a little, flipping through her notebook. “Oh yeah, the Madmen,” she replied, “their interview is next, after yours. I guess they just had time to do their photos now.”
Our guitarist seemed a little put off. “I thought this was just about us,” she almost pouted.
“Oh, it is,” Jenny assured her. “But this is a special feature for RS, the breaking bands of this year’s Warped Tour. I’ll be interviewing you ladies and those guys here”—she nodded at Joe and company—“plus I’m scheduled to speak to Strange Days over at the other side stage, and the Va-Va-Violets at the main stage. But everyone gets their pictures taken here. It’s simpler for Lisa not to have to move her equipment all over the place.”
She moved away to confer with Lisa, and I nudged Mo. “What the hell did you think you were doing?” I whispered.
Mo actually flushed. “I just thought we were the attraction here.”
“We are,” I smiled. “This is awesome. We’re gonna be in a national magazine. How great is that?”
She shifted around uncomfortably. “You know I don’t share well.”
“It’s cool, Mo,” I replied. “Just think: everyone we know will be able to see us in Rolling Stone.”
The blonde smiled. “Yeah, they will, won’t they? It’ll be the best fuck you ever to people who thought we couldn’t do this.”
“Shit yeah,” said Tia over Mo’s shoulder.

For the first photo, Lisa lined us up (at our request) on four stools in front of her backdrop, adjusted to make us all look about the same height. We’d told her that we wanted to seem equal, because that’s how we saw ourselves—all equally important.
(Jenny must’ve overheard those instructions, because I saw her out of the corner of my eye, whispering to Viv and nodding towards us with a smile on her face.)

There were a couple more shots, including one from above us as we lay on the ground, our heads together, and another as we posed with our instruments (minus the actual drum kit, but Tia made sure to include a pair of her favorite sticks). Jenny told us we’d be able to approve one after all the interviews were completed, when Lisa would email them to us. Then we sat with Jenny in a group, with Shoshi standing by, telling her about how we got together, and how much we love to play music. I don’t know about everyone else, but I felt great about how everything went.

On the way out, we passed the Madmen, anxiously awaiting their turn. Bryan looked nervous, which was weird; you’d’ve thought, looking at him, that he was going for a flu shot instead of a Rolling Stone interview.
Joe touched my arm as we walked past. “Is Bryan OK?” I whispered.
He looked around at their guitarist. “Yeah, he just…gets nervous,” he murmured back. “Don’t worry, luv, Peter’ll get ‘im back into shape. Later then?”
“Yeah,” I grinned. “See you. Good luck.”