Chapter 2

Kim lived in Hampton, which is one of the more exclusive bayside suburbs. You’ve got to have money just to survive there. The door was answered by a blonde, forty something woman in a cream coloured blouse and tan trousers and at first I thought I had the wrong address.

“I’m looking for Kim? Is this the right address?”

“Sure is, you must the woman she’s been talking about,” she opened the flywire door, “I’m Analyn her stepmother,” she half turned as Kim entered the small entrance porch.

“Hey,” Kim smiled, “you’ve met my mum.”

“Yeah,” I ran an eye over Kim’s outfit, she was wearing a black, off the shoulder top and skin tight jeans with a belt.

“Nice outfit,” I went on.

“Thanks,” she leaned over and kissed Analyn on the cheek, “bye, mum, don’t wait up for me.”

I farewelled Analyn as we headed to my car.

“I thought I had the wrong house for a moment,” I looked at her as I shut the door.

“Easy mistake to make, considering she’s Caucasian and I’m Asian,” she buckled her seatbelt, “she is my stepmother but I call her mum because my biological mum died when I was three months old,” she tapped her phone.

“Oh right, how did she die if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Drug overdose,” she glanced up briefly, “I never knew her but I’ve seen pictures and mum gave me her personal effects years ago.”

“Okay,” I didn’t know what to say to that and to be honest I didn’t feel the need to inquire further and so we set off for the Retreat Hotel.

The Retreat is located in the northern suburb of Brunswick, which is a decent haul from Hampton but I’ve done that drive so many times I can do it in my sleep. I take my turn driving the truck with all our gear but I prefer driving my own car out there to the ‘gig mobile.’ We talked a little on the way there, starting with her dissertation because the first time I’d heard about her had been when she was writing it. We then moved onto her post graduate studies, she was majoring in Gender Studies with a particular interest in transgender issues and then moved onto her part time job at the solicitor’s office.

“They’ve suggested I do an introduction to law so I could do more hours but law isn’t one of those things I want to do full time, I’d rather stick with university and become a lecturer.”

This was said as I pulled into the carpark at the back of the pub and stopped not far from our truck, which has Sandy’s Destroyers painted on the side.

“That must be your truck,” she stared at it.

“That is the gig mobile,” I replied, “we take turns driving it,” I nodded at our sound man who was leaning against the side with a stubby and an electronic cigarette, “that’s Stephen, our sound engineer,” I tooted the horn and he looked up and waved.

“Well, he’s single but the night’s still young. He’s a real heartbreaker. Every woman he takes home thinks she can change his mind but he has this golden rule. He never lets them stay the night. No matter how tired he is, he’ll always drive them home or pay for a taxi.”

“Well maybe not so cute,” she sighed.

“But apart from that he’s a hell of a nice guy,” I flicked at my hair, “come on, I have to get in there and see the others.”

Playing gigs used to be a frightening thing for me. Believe it or not I’m actually quite self conscious about being out front singing into a microphone, feeling very much like a fake. Almost as if the illusion would suddenly fall away and people would see that I was a shit singer. I hit on the cure one night after reading about a famous singer who’d had a similar thing until she created a look with certain outfits. She essentially became another person on stage, someone she’d constructed in her mind and recreated on stage. It enabled her to come out of her shell and explode onto the pub rock circuit that Melbourne is known for, we cover some of their hits.

What worked for her, also works for me. My persona is the bad girl, the slut, the bikie moll and partly because of that outward projection I can get away with a surprising amount of banter. You get the occasional knobhead who thinks he can get up on stage and bump his balls against you but the boys are always there to step in if they can see I’m in trouble. Most times I’m quite capable of pushing him away. Thankfully, this crowd was quite well behaved, although the presence of three Maori bouncers also helped a lot. Those guys can put the fear of God into most guys just by looking at them.

We usually open for other bands but when I got inside I found out that the other band had pulled out at the last moment due to the fact two of their members were down at the police station answering questions, I never asked what it was about but when the manager asked if we could do the full night we were only too willing. It meant we had to do three sets instead of our usual one, and this time instead of doing our usual selection of covers, we were able to perform the original songs we’re going to put onto a C.D. We also let it be known we’d do requests, within reason.

One of those requests was from Kim, who wanted us to do an ABBA song, Does Your Mother Know That You’re Out. It had the boys smiling but hey, it’s music and so that was added to the queue and we were in business. As gigs go, it was an exhausting one and by the end my voice was a little hoarse but it was a good night all the same. The crowd was easy enough to work and when we did our finale, a rocked up version of Suspicious Minds the crowd was on fire.

I’d caught sight of Kim several times that night and she’d been hit on by a few guys and at least one girl but come the end of the night she was still there and unattached, which left me feeling a little out there and exposed. Was she just being polite? I hadn’t hinted at anything on the way there and her body language certainly wasn’t suggestive as we packed the P.A system back into the truck and said our goodbyes. Kim was propped against the front of my car with her phone, she was texting someone and looked up as I unlocked the car.

“Do you want to head back home or stop off somewhere?”

“It’s up to you,” she shrugged, “I’m not in a hurry but you’re probably tired.”

I was tired but it seemed a shame to just go straight home and so we stopped off at a pizza joint in Toorak for a sit down meal. I’m always hungry after a gig even though I try to eat beforehand but for some reason it just goes straight to my legs. The guys are the opposite, they just crash out or get drunk but I’m not a big drinker despite my on stage persona. I do have a pot of Coke on stage most of the time but people just assume it’s Bundy and Coke.

“My mum has a friend not far from here,” Kim remarked as we waited for our order.

She left that out there for a few moments before going on.

“She was involved with her for a few months but then they broke up and she went back to men.”

“So your mum is bisexual?”

“I think so,” she tapped her phone again, “she says it’s more like living in the moment. She’s been going out with Tracey’s dad for the last few years.”

“So you and Tracey could be sisters one day,” I managed a crooked smile.

“What do you mean one day?” Kim stared at me, “we’re practically sisters now.”

“So, where does your mum work?”

“Social Services,” she replied, “she used to be a cop but in order to adopt me she resigned from the police force and went back to university to do a social work degree.”

“Why did she have to resign from the police force just to adopt you?”

“It was because of the situation,” Kim looked past me for a moment.

“It’s kind of complicated, it usually freaks people out when I tell them.”

I nearly did ask her to tell me that night but changed my mind at the last moment and not long afterwards they brought our meal around. Kim wasn’t that hungry but she did take a piece of pizza and some garlic bread and hey, I’m not selfish. I was only too willing to share my meal.

Nevertheless, despite our ‘date’ I was under the distinct impression that it was purely platonic even when we were sitting outside her house an hour or so later. I was pretty tired and looking forward to hitting the sack when she turned to look at me.

“So, will I see you again soon?”

“Yeah, why not?” I replied, “we’re playing again tomorrow, Saturday and Sunday.”

“Would you like to come around for Sunday lunch?”

Now I consider myself pretty quick on the uptake but that came at me sideways, I mean what do you say to that?

“I had a great time,” she reached out and pushing my chin to one side, brushed her lips across my cheek, “you’ll never wash that spot again,” she pulled back and opened the door.

My goodbye was a little late and I’m not sure she heard me. I watched her go inside and then my phone beeped, it was a message from Kim.

Kim: About 1:00, Sunday, see you then.

I replied and then headed on home. My head was swimming, my guts churning and I felt as if I was skating close to the edge of something. Tracey hadn’t mentioned anything about Kim being curious but maybe she wasn’t curious. Maybe I was reading too much into it. I’ve done that a few times in the past. She shows interest in me and I misread her intent and take it too far. Some women I know are on the brink but not sure how far to take it and others are genuinely curious.

I didn’t feel right talking to Tracey about her best friend but Tracey’s girlfriend, Charlie has been a friend of mine for years. Her advice was just to go with the flow.

“Don’t read too much into it for Christ’s sake. She’s shown interest in lesbian relationships but that was for a dissertation. Writing about lesbian relationships is different to being in one.”

Wise advice and with that in mind I chose my outfit carefully. I had to work that night, we had a gig down the Peninsula at the Pier hotel so I wore my white shirt with a pair of tan-coloured knee-length shorts but had my leather trousers in the car to change into later on.

This time Kim answered the door and I instantly felt under dressed. She wore a white dress with wide straps and a flared skirt, it looked like something you’d wear to a candlelight dinner with its black belt. Her hair was crimped and she’d put on a little makeup, not that she needs to wear much on her face.

“You look nice,” she gave me the once over, “cool shorts, is this a stage outfit?”

“Um, no, it’s in the car,” I glanced over my shoulder, “I’ll probably leave straight from here and get changed at the pub.”

“You can get changed here,” she stepped back, “where’s the gig?”

“I haven’t been there for over twelve months,” she led me into the living room, “this is Gizella and Ilona, my sisters.”

The two girls looked to be about fifteen or sixteen, they were sitting on the couch with their phones and smiled when Kim introduced me. Analyn came into the room a few moments later and ran an eye over my outfit.

“That’s later, my stage outfit is in the car.”

“Well, take a seat, lunch will be served soon. I hope you brought an appetite, we’re big eaters here.”

I took a seat and Kim sat opposite me, Gizella and Ilona were giggling at a You Tube video and at one point they switched to their own language before remembering where they were and going back to English again.