Chapter 6

Louis and Blaze had almost finished recording the EP when Louis had an idea. Louis tapped on the pane of glass that divided him and Blaze and spoke into the microphone that connected them.

Illustration by Rory Midhani

“Blaze, do you know any other instruments? It’d be cool to record a sort of special track.”

Blaze thought for a second.

“Actually, my grandfather taught me how to play the accordion. Maybe we could throw, like, a pirate jig on the album.”

Louis stood up from his seat in the mixing room, exited into the hallway that linked the room with the recording booth, walked into the booth, walked up to Blaze, and slapped her across the face.

“A pirate jig? Are you fucking kidding me? For your information we’re trying to record the sexiest, most electrifying EP to ever enter the contemporary zeitgeist NOT RECORD THE FUCKING SOUNDTRACK TO A VEGGIE TALES FILM. That was a Katie suggestion. Give me a Blaze suggestion.”

Blaze’s face hardened.

“What about a track where I play the drums with knives and scream?”

“Less Yoko Ono, more Kanye.”

“Ok well then we’re going to have to rework the album in order to have the audience feel a disillusionment with the alleged post-racial America.”

Louis blinked thrice. Blaze spoke again.

“You know what, let’s do one where I talk about bodies touching or something.”

“Perfect, good. Great.”

Louie went back to the mixing room.

After another hour of recording, the EP was almost ready. Louis spoke into the microphone again.

“Okay Blaze, all we need is some post production tweaking then this baby is ready to go!”

“Cool. Now what do we do?” Blaze asked, as she put down her guitar and took a sip of water.

“I’m thinking we hit the road immediately. You know? Do a quick college tour.”

“Alright. Where do we start?”

“I’m thinking Smith. Have you heard of it?”

Blaze put down her water bottle, stood up from her stool, exited into the hallway, walked into the mixing room, walked up to Louis and slapped him across the face.

“Of course I’ve heard of Smith! Are you fucking kidding me? Every lesbian has heard of Smith. It’s fucking Lesbian Hogwarts. God. They’re all there, with their hair always on point, studying sociology, and the leaves are yellow and filtering sunlight through them because it’s always autumn there because autumn is beautiful and the whole continent has conspired to make that place beautiful and lovely and gay. Gay as fuck. It’s so gay there, even the straight girls are gay. It’s just all beautiful lesbians with nice coats. Do you know, you could be ugly as fuck, but if you have a nice coat no one will even notice? Well it doesn’t even matter, because they’re already beautiful-”

“Stop. Stop. Wait. I have a feeling that if I don’t stop you right now, you’re going to go on for another forty minutes.”

“Probably, yeah…I’ll stop, I’ll stop”

“So do you want to go?”

Blaze slapped Louis again.

Massachusetts was looking beautiful, for it was September and that is pretty much the only time New England is ever bearable. The whole ride from the airport Blaze kept her nose pressed against the window, admiring the changing leaves, stone walls, and colonial homes.

“Wow. It’s so beautiful here. And it has such rich history.”

“Yeah, and such rich white people,” Louis said as they turned into a parking lot. “We’re here.”

Blaze stepped out of the car and examined the venue, Extremely Cool Rock and Roll Music Basement-Garage. Extremely Cool Rock and Roll Music Basement-Garage was Northampton’s premier music venue. Located just five minutes from Smith College, it always drew a crowd of hip lesbos. Blaze opened the drunk while Louis examined the venue.

“That is some name on that place,” commented Blaze, “Very specific.”

“Yeah, well they don’t want people to get the wrong idea, like they’re not extremely cool or rock and roll or a basement or a garage.”

“I get it. But how can you have a basement garage?”

Louie shrugged.

“Where is Smith by the way? Are we close?” Blazed asked excitedly.

“Yes, it’s right there.” Louie pointed to the buildings peaking over the trees.

“Oh sweet. I see you Smith College,” Blaze laughed. So did all the girls that go to Smith because they see what she did there.

“Alright, let’s go pick out the set list.” Then he helped Blaze unpack the car and both went inside to get set.

A taxi pulled up outside of The Extremely Cool Rock and Roll Music Basement-Garage. Jodie Foster paid the cabby and stepped onto the curb. As the cab pulled away, Jodie opened her bag and looked in. Inside she saw her lucky 1992 Oscar. She pushed it aside and saw her pistol underneath.

“Alright,” she breathed, “Let’s try again.”

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