Jump Cut

Jump Cut

A novel about love, sex, and electric
guitars




by S.K. Rogers


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© 2000 by Suzy Rogers. All rights reserved.
ISBN 978-0-557-62550-5


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Chapter 1



Name Game
From Soundline magazine, February, 1999

How do bands decide on names?
The British band Slouching towards Bliss got their moniker
from a book drummer Richard Corley’s girlfriend was reading.
“It was called ‘Slouching towards Bethlehem,’ and we thought
that sounded cool,” recalls frontman Kelly Ross. “But religious
references are too much grief. Someone came up with Slouching
towards Ecstasy, but that sounded like drug dealers with bad
posture. We ended up with Bliss by default.”
In the case of L.A. alt-rockers Sex Gun, their name was taken
from misquoted lyrics. Singer Jeremy Kane heard his bass
player singing along with the Clash’s cover of “I fought the law.”
“Arik kept singing, ‘robbing people with a sex gun’ instead of
six-gun, and it struck me as humorous,” says Kane. “Keep in
mind this was almost 20 years ago, and we were dumb kids still
in high school. A lot of people thought it was a takeoff on the
Sex Pistols, but in fact that hadn’t occurred to us. Somehow we
never got around to changing it…let that be a cautionary tale for
anyone starting up a band. Try and pick a name that’s not really
stupid, because next thing you know, you may have a hit record
and be stuck with it.” Arik Jones is philosophical. “It could have
been worse. Look at the Goo Goo Dolls.”
“It was worse,” says Kane. “They started out as the Sex
Maggots. They’re lucky no one listened to them back then.”



If He Could
With a new Sex Gun album in the works, Jeremy Kane is
turning his back on a troubled past and looking to the future.



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MusicTown magazine, April, 1999

It’s midmorning at Café Solo, an unpretentious Santa Monica
eatery. The skies are blue and cloudless, but across the table,
Jeremy Kane is in anything but a sunny mood. In just a few
short minutes, I have evidently managed to touch on every
taboo subject: namely, sex, drugs, and violence, and Sex Gun’s
notoriously volatile frontman is making it clear he’s not happy
with this reporter.
But how can you not ask? This is a band whose reputation for
personal problems has at times threatened to eclipse their
prodigious talent, and Kane has always been in the forefront of
any controversy. It’s partly the contradiction, the rise and fall
and rise again of his fortunes, that makes him such an object of
fascination.
Of course, the drop dead good looks, an abundance of
personal charisma and often rampant sexuality don’t hurt either.
He’s an athlete whose accomplishments include surfing,
climbing and motocross, yet he’s battled heroin addiction over an
almost twenty year period. He’s a songwriter who won a
Grammy for the achingly beautiful no.1 hit of 1990, “If I Could”
*

– and was once arrested in mid-performance during a Florida
show due to the graphic sexual content of the raw and angry
“Come Hard.” He’s served prison terms for assault on two
occasions: two months in 1982 after beating a high school
classmate senseless in a parking lot brawl, and nine months in
1984 when he punched out a police officer. He’s been arrested
enough other times for his bandmates to have lost count.
(Interestingly, none of his encounters with the law have been
drug-related: his two trips to rehab have been voluntary.) He
also reads constantly, is well informed on issues ranging from
the environment to world trade, and can quote Shakespeare,
Sun Tzu or even Simone de Beauvoir. (“Know your enemy,” he
says in explanation of the latter. “I’m kidding,” he adds.) His
demeanor can be equal parts charm and intimidation.
Intimidation has the upper hand at the moment, however.
Hands wrapped around a mug of black coffee, Kane says
frowningly, “Can’t you people think of anything else to ask me?
I’m really sick of talking about this stuff that happened years
ago.”
He’s probably entitled to be somewhat cranky this morning –

*
Lyrics at www.skrogersonline.com


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last night’s recording session, he told me earlier, lasted until
sun-up. His heavy lidded, thick lashed bedroom eyes look
downright fatigued, their curious black-blue-brown color
somewhat blurred. His hair is almost the same shade, and it
falls forward obscuring the sharply planed angles of his face as
he hunches over his coffee. It used to reach the middle of his
back, but he says he “just got tired of it” one night not long ago,
and picked up the kitchen scissors.
“Jaime keeps threatening to take me to a stylist,” he says,
referring to his girlfriend. “But I kind of like this look. She says
it’s a mess, but at least it’s nice and low maintenance. It gets in
the way, I hack it off.” He grins. His face is saved from being
overly Hollywood handsome by a chipped tooth at the edge of his
smile. It reminds you that no matter how gorgeous a specimen
of manhood he is, this is someone who has lived
uncompromisingly hard for most of his 36 years.
Jeremy Kane’s early biography is sketchy – he will say almost
nothing about his family, deflecting questions with a curt “we
weren’t close.” By the time he teamed up with Arik Jones and
Steve Stanley to form what would eventually become Sex Gun,
he was already on his own, a member of the surfing brotherhood
who lived mostly, he admits, out of the back of a battered Chevy
station wagon.
Kane, Jones and Stanley were becoming known in the L.A.
punk rock scene while they were still (more or less) in high
school. Not long after Jones and Stanley graduated (Kane
himself having been kicked out earlier- the former principal
describes him as “ very smart and very disruptive”) the three
teamed up with drummer Johnny Deal, who had been with a
Valley band called Stray Dogs. “They were very hard core,”
recalls Kane. “While we were kind of combining punk – the hard
edges, the crashing noise and power of it – with a more melodic
sound, and lyrics that tried to say something. But Johnny liked
our sound, and he wanted out of the Valley.” They met Daniel
da Silva, the extremely talented and equally spacey guitar
player, at a Jeff Beck show. Within two years, the quintet was
on a steady diet of club dates and festival gigs. They landed a
recording contract shortly thereafter – but the album was
delayed while Kane served nine months for felony assault. When
the record was finally released in 1985, the unambiguously titled
“Come Hard” went gold, and the 1986 follow up “Down and In”
did even better, going double platinum behind the success of the
top 10 hit “Do You Wanna Know?”


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What followed was a seesaw ride of critical and commercial
success, punctuated by multi platinum albums released at fairly
regular intervals, but alternating with the arrests (including Kane
several times for alleged violence, although he was never
formally charged, Deal for public disturbance after a quarrel with
a girlfriend, da Silva for public nuisance due to neighbors’ noise
complaints, Stanley for malicious property damage after a hotel
room incident, Kane and da Silva for indecent exposure after an
impromptu shower in a fountain after a concert in Chicago –
only Arik Jones has managed to stay out of the slammer) the
stints in rehab (both Steve Stanley and Kane in 1985, Kane
again in 1993) and relationship problems (Deal divorced after
five years of marriage in 1994, Jones separated from his
girlfriend of six years, singer Kara Lewis, in 1995). Tragedy
struck in 1992 when Stanley was killed in a car accident rumored
to have been cocaine related, but the band regrouped in 1993 to
do a wildly successful world tour. But 1996 turned out to be the
nadir of the group’s experience, when the always eccentric da
Silva succumbed to manic – depressive illness, Kane relapsed
into heroin addiction once more, Johnny Deal’s drinking was out
of control, and Jones felt so disheartened, he turned expatriate
and went to London.
But somehow the irrepressible foursome overcame their
problems, and once again reinvented themselves as a force to
reckon with on the alternative rock scene. Not content to be
consigned to the “where are they now” file, they regrouped and
played the Feed the World benefit in 1998, where the
enthusiastic reception of the crowd of over 100,000 ensured their
comeback bid. Now they’re back in the studio, finishing up their
seventh album, titled “After the Hurricane.”
Having listened to some of the tracks at the studio the day
before, I ask Kane about the change in focus that I noticed in the
lyrics. They sound more romantic than the Sex Gun fare of old.
Does this signal a change in his attitude towards women, from
apparently regarding them as disposable commodities to
something more meaningful?
“Oh, christ,” he says disgustedly. “That is not fair. The fact
that so far I haven’t been able or motivated to stay in a
relationship indefinitely does not mean I lack respect for
women.”
Maybe so. But the combination of his undeniable sexual
magnetism, frequently explicit lyrics, and a string of carelessly
discarded girlfriends combine to make Jeremy Kane a guy you


7


wouldn’t want your sister to date. Confronted with this
reputation for callousness, he is unrepentant.
“I’ve never lied to anyone about who I am, or what I was
about,” he says, black eyes snapping under lowered brows.
“People make their own choices.”
(“Jeremy Kane doesn’t have a problem with commitment,”
commented one ex-girlfriend sarcastically. “He doesn’t even
know it exists.”)
“Jeremy’s never had to put any effort into acquiring women,”
says Arik Jones. “There have always been a lot of girls throwing
themselves at him, and he tends to sample what’s on offer,
rather than looking around for someone who’s right. He’s lazy
that way.”
At the same time, he has written some heartbreakingly
beautiful love songs, such as “Miss You Forever” and “Deep
Night.” Does he see this as a contradiction?
“No, because those songs expressed some part of what I was
feeling at a particular time,” he says dismissively. “The fact that
it didn’t last doesn’t invalidate the reality of what it was.
Besides,” he adds wryly, “‘Miss You’ was about Steve Stanley. I
wrote it not long after he was killed.”
He sighs a little, leaning back in his chair, linking his hands
behind his head. “I think I want something that I’m never going
to have,” he muses. “Maybe something that doesn’t really exist.
It leads to a certain level of frustration, when you feel you’re
constantly chasing a chimera.” (He has to be one of the few rock
stars in the world who can use a word like chimera in everyday
conversation.)
“But as far as now goes,” he says, “I’m actually monogamous
and enjoying it. I’ve been with the same girlfriend for over a
year.”
The girlfriend in question is 23 year old model Jaime Cage.
They met when she approached him at a Sunset Strip nightclub
and asked him to dance.
Why the conversion to monogamy? Kane shrugs. “You reach
a point where it seems like it should be less recreational and
more personal,” he says. “When you get down to it, life is
ultimately about how you connect. To your work, your art, your
surroundings, and to other people.”
Well, that sounds promisingly evolved. Then he quirks an
eyebrow and says with the smile that is one of his trademarks,
the one with a touch of evil in it, “Besides, it’s simpler.”
We go on to talk about the upcoming release of “After the


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Hurricane” and Kane becomes considerably more animated. “I
love the stuff we’re doing now,” he says, leaning forward on
brawny and tattooed arms. “It’s got real soul and heart in it, but
it rocks. After a lot of problems,” here, he flashes me a smile,
the charm now in the ascendant, “all those things you want to
hash over ad nauseum – we all got to a place where we realized
that the music is what really matters. And that feels so
incredibly good, it shows in the songs.”
I mention the plans for the upcoming tour. Is he at all
worried that being back on the road may derail his and his
bandmates’ present healthy state of mind?
“You’re just intent on doom and gloom, aren’t you?” he says,
teasingly. “No, I’m not worried at all. It’s not where you are
geographically, it’s where you are in your head that counts, and
I’m reasonably confident that we can all stay in a good place.”
Reasonably?
“That’s about the best you can do,” he says a little sadly,
“with some of this stuff. That one day at a time shtick is no
joke. Once you’ve been down that road to addiction and general
madness, you’re just lying to yourself if you think it hasn’t
changed your life forever. You can never really be sure you’re
over it – you just don’t know what it might be that could bring
you down again.”
Then he hastens to add, “But for now, and I’d venture to say
the foreseeable future, it’s a nonissue. Right now life is about
the four of us making some incredible noise.” He smiles,
genuinely happy at the prospect.
Later, I follow Kane’s loud and beat-up Harley to the recording
studio where we are to rendezvous with the rest of Sex Gun.
They’re lounging around the parking area with folding chairs,
beach umbrellas, and a cooler, enjoying the sun on this relatively
smogless day. As usual, they’ve discarded shirts to reveal a lot
of muscle and tattoos.
Arik Jones looks like the prototypical surfer, with his long,
sunstreaked blond mane, sunburnt nose, and sea green eyes.
Generally regarded as the most well adjusted member of the
band, he has an easy, friendly manner towards all. Daniel da
Silva’s near shaved head and thin, ascetic features give him
something of the look of a Buddhist monk, although one suspects
few monks feature snakes crawling up their arms. While the rest
of Sex Gun often come across as being a little dangerous, (or, in
Kane’s case, a lot) da Silva seems gentle, a little dreamy, and
has a fundamental sweetness in his demeanor. Johnny Deal


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looks like he could be Jeremy Kane’s smaller, wirier brother – his
dark coloring, high cheekbones, full mouth and lean build are
strikingly similar to the lead singer’s. Deal wears his hair just
past his shoulders, and he smiles more readily than Jeremy.
He’s also fidgety, constantly flexing his hands or twirling
something in his fingers. At one point he’s tapping a pen on the
top of the cooler, until Arik Jones snatches it away from him.
Johnny grins, unoffended. “Occupational hazard,” he says.
To a man, they appear healthy and athletic. It’s part of their
contradictory image: the hard living, use and abuse approach to
drugs, liquor and women contrasting with the buffed up look.
They mostly seem amused that people find the contrast startling.
“We’ve been stereotyped as these wild men who shoot up,
snort coke, and slam down drinks, in between doing push ups
and screwing anything that moves backstage,” comments Johnny
Deal. “And I’m not saying we were sweet and innocent, but even
in our worst moments, it was never as extreme as it was
painted.”
“Anyway, these days we’re pretty tame,” says Jones. “Very
short on vice – we’d rather concentrate on music. The last time
we were on the road, there wasn’t a party in sight. We’re
boring, really.”
It is noticeable that Sex Gun are generally an unpretentious
lot. Despite their commercial success, there’s not a Ferrari to be
found amongst them. They eschew Bel Air mansions for
comfortable but homey abodes in the Hollywood Hills. Jeremy
Kane doesn’t even go that far; he hasn’t yet bothered to replace
his last house, which slid down one of Los Angeles’ canyons in
the ’96 mudslides. He’s so downscale his bandmates tease him
constantly.
“Jeremy’s the only homeless millionaire rock star you’ll ever
meet,” says Arik Jones. “He keeps forgetting to get a place to
live.”
Kane grins at Jones, and says, “Why should I? I like it at your
place,” but he admits that buying a house has been on his list of
things to do for some time now. “It’s a pain, you know? And
since we’re going to be on tour a lot for the next year or so,
there doesn’t seem much point in looking now.”
“You’re just lazy,” Arik tells him. Johnny Deal adds, “Jeremy
makes a terrible rock star. No glitz whatsoever.”
It’s true that Kane’s lifestyle is remarkably lowkey. Granted
that the alternative rock scene doesn’t have as high a profile as
other genres, he’s still sadly lacking in the accoutrements of a


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celebrity. He drives a five year old Toyota 4x4, which shows the
effects of salt and sand corrosion from too much time at the
beach. He has the requisite Harley –Davidson motorcycle, but
it’s also old and battered. (“No one’s tried to steal it,” he points
out.) You won’t find him wearing any designer duds; he’s
usually in the same kind of faded and torn jeans that became his
trademark stage gear in Sex Gun’s early days, or in boardshorts.
When he bothers with a shirt, it’s usually a washed out t
promoting surfboards, bike shops, or someone else’s band. He
did amaze everyone a few years ago by showing up for the MTV
awards in a tux, completely conventional and startlingly
handsome. (“You don’t want to be totally predictable,” he says
in explanation.) He dismisses his lack of consumerism with a
shrug. “I buy stuff when I think about it,” he says. “I bought
tech stocks with some of my early royalty checks. I buy
surfboards and guitars. I buy lots of books. I bought an
emerald earring that I thought was nice, but that turned out to
be a real mistake, because some asshole tried to rob me the first
time I wore it.”
Producer Tom Scott arrives and the action moves inside. The
band has recorded in excess of twenty songs, and the process
begins to try and narrow down which tracks will make the CD.
Kane and Jones argue vociferously over one in particular, a song
innocuously titled “Blue Day.” Kane likes it; Jones thinks it’s
problematic. “Those lyrics are going to be taken as referring to
acts of violence,” he says. “That’s not what it’s about,” retorts
Kane. “I know that,” Jones replies, “but most people aren’t
going to get it.” Kane gives in on this one, but adds, “It can be a
bonus track on a UK single.”
It’s already a given that the release will be slapped with a
parental advisory label; all their material inevitably is. Does this
bother them?
“I think it comes with having a name like Sex Gun,” says da
Silva pensively.
“I’m okay with it,” says Jones, “because I don’t think our
audience should include pre-pubescent kids, anyway.”
Kane joins in. “I’m not going to write anything any differently
because someone thinks it’s too explicit. If I use the word ‘fuck’
in a song, it’s because that’s exactly what I mean. People don’t
want to buy it, fine.”
One song that definitely makes the cut is slated to be the first
single. “Troubles of My Own” has Sex Gun’s typical combination
of distinctive melody and edgy arrangements, combined with


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lyrics that sound autobiographical. Kane admits that he writes
from personal experience. “Troubles was done during one of my
more reflective periods in the past few years,” he says. “I was at
a point where I had to take a good look at my life, and make
some changes. But before you can do that, you have to come to
terms with where you’ve been.”
And that, ultimately, has been Sex Gun’s strength, the
characteristic that has brought them through the bad times and
made them into the ultimate survivors. They know where
they’ve been. Whether all the craziness is behind them remains
to be seen, but one thing’s for sure: they’re back in the game.

Gun Control:
Sex Gun frontman Jeremy Kane gives up trying dying to make
music once again

Soundline, May, 1999

It’s always tempting to dismiss Sex Gun as just one more
dysfunctional band from LA, trapped in the throes of addiction,
mental instability, and general chaos, doomed to go into the
annals of rock history under the category of “self destruction.”
But just when you’re ready to count them down and out, they
somehow resurrect themselves, sounding so damn good you
realize why they’re still one of the best acts in alternative rock
today.
Likewise, one can describe singer/songwriter Jeremy Kane as
a disturbed man with an almost fatal attraction to life on the
dark side. You can dismiss him as a junkie, a felon, a troubled
individual unable to break away from a cycle that has too often
included heroin and periodic assaults on his fellow man. But it
ignores the reality that he’s also intelligent, articulate, amazingly
talented and one of the most charismatic frontmen of all time.
These days Kane and his band are riding high on the wave of
success following the release of their seventh album, “After the
Hurricane.” As the title suggests, the record is full of allusions to
starting over after catastrophe, of rising reborn from the
wreckage. Is it prophetic for Kane and company?
On a sunny afternoon in L.A., kicking back beside bass player
Arik Jones’ pool, Jeremy Kane ponders the question.
“We’ve certainly been through our share of trials and
tribulations over the years,” he says with massive
understatement. “And I think that this record reflects that, along


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with a need to move towards the positive.”
The trials to which he refers have been well documented. In
1996 it looked almost certain that the band wouldn’t survive:
the only question was whether anyone would be left standing.
Kane was using again, guitarist Daniel da Silva was hospitalized
with clinical depression, drummer Johnny Deal had hit bottom
before finally checking into AA, and Jones had all but given up on
his band.
“I didn’t see any future for us,” he says. “It was even worse
than when we lost Steve,” referring to Steve Stanley, the guitar
player who was killed in a car accident in 1992. “We went
through a lot of instability then” – including four guitarists in two
years, before they gave up on finding a replacement- “but we
were holding together, if just barely at times.”
Kane nods in agreement. “We never really thought about
quitting altogether back then,” he says. “Whereas by the end of
1996, I didn’t much care if I survived, let alone the band.”
It was at that point that Arik Jones went to London for an
extended period, to hang out with bands like Calling All Girls and
work on a solo project.
So what changed things around?
Kane shrugs. “There was no dramatic, all defining moment. I
was just so sick of myself, I knew it was either suicide or get
clean.”
No one knows how close he may have come to the former,
although a series of misadventures during 1996-97 certainly
suggest a cavalier disregard for survival. For a time, the title of
Sex Gun’s 1995 release, Try Dying, seemed all too prophetic.
After crashing a motorcycle in a motocross race and fracturing
the tibia in his left leg, getting knocked unconscious while surfing
20 foot waves in Hawaii and an encounter in LA with a would-be
mugger that left his assailant in the hospital and Kane in jail, the
singer’s turbulent lifestyle appeared to slowly undergo a change.
The end of 1998 saw him off smack, living with a new girlfriend
and apparently embracing monogamy, and working in earnest on
new material.
Looking at him relaxing in the sunshine now, one marvels that
his hair raising experiences haven’t left more of a mark. Tough
and darkly handsome, his chiseled features show only a few
lines, less than you’d expect for a 36 year old man. His athlete’s
physique is hard and lean; with broad shoulders, narrow hips,
and impressive musculature, he still looks like the competition
class surfer he once was. He chopped off a foot or so of hair not


13


long ago; the thick, almost black thatch is now just below his
ears. Dark eyes clear and farsighted under strongly marked
brows, his sculptured mouth resolute, he looks the picture of
healthy living.
His expression turns sardonic when told so. “Yeah, that’s
always bothered people,” he informs me. “That I’ve never
looked as much a wreck as they think I should. To be honest,
apart from the obvious” here he grins evilly, “I’ve always had a
pretty healthy lifestyle.”
The mind boggles; does he mean he eats his vegetables along
with shooting up? But somehow one doesn’t ask questions like
that of Jeremy Kane.
So how did Sex Gun end up back in the studio?
Kane says slowly, “The one thing I never suffered from,
during that period, was writer’s block. Through it all, I kept
scribbling in my notebooks. Then I got to the point where I was
reading over it, and thinking hmm, and picking up a guitar and
playing around with certain lines, then rearranging them…about
that time, Daniel was back out of the loony bin” (political
correctness has never been part of Kane’s vocabulary) “and we
started hanging out together, and doing what we’ve always done
– playing music. Then Arik came back, tired of freezing his ass
off in England, and we’re all, like, okay, guess we’re back in
business.”
After reuniting with a clean and sober Deal, the group got in
touch with producer Tom Scott, with whom they had worked on
their third record, “Try Dying.” Scott says he had no qualms
about signing on with Sex Gun.
“Despite their personal problems, they’ve always taken a very
disciplined approach to their work,” he says. “If they’re going to
do it at all, they’re going to do it right.” At the same time, he
adds, he was relieved to see them apparently sane and well.
When they started practice sessions, says Scott, they were
working together with a renewed vigor that boded well for
“Hurricane.”
“There was a kind of creative electricity in the air. You knew
this was going to be good.”
“It felt like coming alive again,” recalls Kane. “As though I’d
crawled out of a dark hole and felt sunlight on my face for the
first time in years.”
Jones says the process of recording was very fluid and
dynamic. “It came more easily to us than it ever has before, and
I think this is our best work.”


14


Indeed, “After the Hurricane” resonates with vitality, the
songs tight and well crafted, the energy unmistakable. Although
some tracks, like “Shutdown,” have Sex Gun’s characteristic hard
driving sass, there are also cuts such as “Time to Fly”, a wistful
song about the need to move on.
Another track, the urgently pulsing “Golden Girl,” has raised
speculation about Kane’s love life. Is his current flame, blonde
model Jaime Cage, the girl in question? How serious is their
relationship?
Kane answers obliquely. “I think it’s hard to define
relationships in terms like serious. We’ve been together for
some time now, but I don’t really try to predict the future with
regard to these things.” But, he adds, the song wasn’t about
anyone in particular.
“It was more directed at a fantasy, a California archetype,” he
says. “The surfer girl with salty skin and laughing eyes, you
know?”
The first single to be released is “Troubles of My Own,” a
tuneful midtempo number which like their early hit “If I Could” is
rife with angst and an almost painful honesty. Whatever his
shortcomings, Jeremy Kane has never been afraid to lay it all out
there.
The title track is a storm of a song, opening with an ominously
humming baseline. When da Silva’s guitar crackles into life, it
cuts the air like a lightening strike. Kane’s distinctive vocals
have never been better: he ranges from husky warmth to razor
edged sharpness and back again, with a silky smooth intonation
for the chorus:

After the hurricane/the chaos of destruction
Could be all we need to breed/the hope of resurrection

It just may be that this time Sex Gun has weathered the
storm for good.


15









Chapter 2



July, 1999

Slowly, her mind began the journey back to consciousness.
Oh sleep, heavenly sleep! Finally, hours worth, uninterrupted,
sound sleep, not just uneasy dozing. Instead of waking in a state of
chronic exhaustion, she felt relaxed and rested. Almost purring with
contentment, she stretched luxuriously…
And came up abruptly against a warm, solid body.
Eyes still shut, disoriented by this surprising discovery, her brain
stopped short and tried to process the unexpected information.
-A body. Next to me. In bed.
-Do I have a boyfriend?
-No.
Then, with a rush, it came back, in jerky flashes like a badly
edited film – meeting with Rachel, the conference, going out to
celebrate. A nightclub on a neon strip. A party at a house up in the
Hollywood Hills. A jam session. Dancing, flirting with men who
seemed familiar because you’d seen them a hundred times in videos,
in magazines, in concert.
Drinking tequila.
Bloody tequila, she thought.
Some guys working on a song, arguing about the structure. She
hadn’t been able to resist throwing in her two cents worth. The
quick interest of the one who seemed to be the main songwriter,
with his dark eyes and lazy smile. He made her sit down, and she
had a hazy memory of talking for a long time about music, about


16


writing…
And with a wave of heat that swept over her like a warm tide, her
mind fast forwarded through to the more relevant part – long, slow
kisses, his arms around her, an unfamiliar and heady feeling after so
much time alone…the long hard muscles of his back under her
hands, bare skin against bare skin….
Oh god, she thought, oh please, tell me I didn’t…
She opened her eyes.


He felt her stir and stretch next to him, as he lay in a pleasantly half
awake, half drowsing state, and instinctively turned towards her.
And he felt her freeze, in palpable shock, as her body rolled against
his.
He propped himself up on one elbow, concerned, as her eyes
snapped open and widened in dismay. He started to say something
innocuous, like good morning, but she had already closed her eyes,
uttered a low moan, rolled onto her other side with her back to him
and was saying very softly, “oh, noooo…” A part of his mind
registered automatic pleasure in the way the sheet draped over the
curve of her hip, and his body warmed responsively, remembering
on a visceral level the sensations of the night just past.
The cognitive part of his brain was slow to awaken, but even at
this point he registered that his passionately wanton lover of the
night before appeared to be having a severe attack of morning after
regret.
He reached out and lightly touched her shoulder, and said, “Hey.
Good morning.”
She twisted around, regarding him with a sort of fascinated
horror.
“Umm. Hi,” she said. She sat up, holding the sheet across her
chest, and began looking around the room.
He knew this wasn’t going well. “Are you okay?” he asked,
thinking, well, that’s a stupid thing to say.
She seemed to agree. Sliding out of the bed and locating her
stretchy black tube of a skirt on the floor, she stepped into it and slid
it up her long legs, adjusting it at hip and thigh, and said, “Well, no,
okay isn’t exactly the word that comes to mind.” Without looking at


17


him, she snatched up the matching bra top from the foot of the bed
and donned it, contorting her arms behind her back to snap the
closure.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
She finally looked at him. “What’s wrong?” she said blankly.
“Oh let’s see. What could be wrong? Oh yeah, I just woke up with
a guy I don’t know, yeah, that would be it.” She added bitterly,
under her breath, “Bloody tequila.”
Oh no. That sounded ominous. Cautiously he said, “If I was
wrong about this, I am very sorry, but you didn’t seem to be
incapacitated last night.”
She was looking under the bed. “Huh?” she said. “Oh no, it’s
not like that. You don’t have to feel like you raped a drunk, or
anything. It doesn’t make me incompetent, it makes me crazy.”
Morosely, she muttered, apparently to herself, “Bloody psychotic
stupid lunatic.”
He was really wishing for some coffee, because he didn’t think
he was keeping up all that well. “I’m not quite following,” he
began, and she looked at him again, and interrupted, “I don’t do
things like this. I was being smart. It wasn’t easy, but I was doing
it, and now it’s come undone because last night somehow all the
demons in my head got unleashed. And they’ve been locked up for
ages, so of course they went on a complete rampage, and now I’m
going to have the very devil of a time getting them back in their
cages.”
He couldn’t help but smile at that, and he said, “Your demons are
a lot more attractive than mine.”
“That’s what makes them so dangerous,” she said feelingly.
He was thinking over what she’d said. “What do you mean, you
don’t do things like this?”
“Well, obviously!” she snapped. “I don’t sleep with men I don’t
know. Actually,” she continued, “I don’t sleep with anyone.”
Taken aback, he said, “I wouldn’t have thought you were the
celibate type. Last night you seemed very – passionate.”
An oddly bleak look crossed her face. “It’s more process of
elimination than lifestyle of choice,” she said. “I’m terminally
relationship challenged, and casual sex is too hazardous and
anyway, it’s sort of like cotton candy – looks good, but makes you


18


feel nauseous afterwards. So I was staying on my own, and it was
working just fine. Until last night.”
“So why last night?” He actually meant, why me? but didn’t
want to come right out and say it.
She raised her eyebrows. “Why are you a junkie?” she asked,
rather shockingly and presumably rhetorically. “Why do you keep
winding up back on heroin, after years away from it? It’s not like
you don’t know what it does.” Her lips lifted slightly, in what might
have been an ironic smile. “And it’s not like I didn’t know I was
doing, it’s that I didn’t care. “ She stared into space, shut her eyes
and shook her head, as if warding off the memory. Then she looked
around the room again, and remarked, with a tinge of desperation,
“Okay, I know I had more clothes.”
Feeling rebuffed by her not-very-flattering response to their
recent shared passion, and somewhat stung by her caustic reference
to his history with drugs, he said shortly, “Try the pool.”
“Oh. Right. Thanks.” She slid open the patio door, and padded
out to the lounge chairs where their encounter had initiated. He
watched her, remembering how those long, strong legs had twined
around his, how her taut and slender torso had arched against his
chest, how impossibly small she felt in his arms, and under him, and
how wildly, hotly responsive she had been…he watched her sit
down on the chaise and yank on her black tights, drop the sheer
mesh lace dress over her head, and pick up her boots. She came
back through the sliding door, and he asked, “Is this really so bad?”
She shot him an incredulous look. “Oh, let’s see,” she said
sarcastically. “I just (a) had sex with a stranger, who (b) has a
decades long history of being an on and off junkie and a reputation
of being pretty much a slut, which I don’t think qualifies as safe sex,
and who (c) is married, or engaged, or something, which makes it
terribly tacky, and who (d) is a rock star, which makes it horribly
clichéd. So, yes,” she concluded, “ I think that adds up to pretty
bloody awful.”
He felt the blood rush to his head, and responses raced
incoherently through his brain. He wanted to deny that he was a
junkie, or a slut, although obviously he had been both, and given his
history of relapse he supposed he couldn’t expect for a few years of
clean living to wipe it all out. He wanted to tell her that he was


19


perfectly healthy and not a risk to her (and god damnit, they’d used
protection regardless) and that while he had up until now had a
girlfriend, he certainly wasn’t engaged or married. That she hadn’t
been the slightest bit impressed with how he earned a living the
night before, and it wasn’t fair to hold it against him now. He
wanted to say that he thought she was a liar, because last night he
had looked into her eyes, when he was inside her, and they had
smiled at each other with the sheer delightful intimacy of it, and it
felt like they had merged body and soul. And now she was acting
like it hadn’t happened, like she hadn’t felt anything at all.
But he couldn’t get any of that out.
He was stung by her unflattering comparison of his company to a
lethal drug with which he was all too familiar, he was hurt by her
apparent rejection, and with a kind of dawning despair he was
recognizing that she was evidently not sharing the feeling of
completeness he had found with her last night, that sense that this
was what had been missing, what he had never known and had
always been looking for. And he couldn’t believe that he had been
alone in that feeling, that it had been an illusion, and it was
beginning to make him angry.
“Who the hell do you think you are?” he snapped.
She was sitting on the bed, shoving on a boot, as she looked
sideways at him and said flatly, “No one. I’m nobody at all.”
Before he could respond, she jammed on her other boot, and was on
her feet and at the door, where she turned and said, her voice
suddenly catching, “I’m sorry. I’m a mess. I didn’t mean to be so
rude-” She made a small, helpless gesture. Then she gave him a
sweet and misty smile, and said very softly, “Last night was lovely.”
And as quickly as that, she was gone, and he was still sitting in
bed, feeling stunned, listening to her heels clacking distantly on the
marble floor of the foyer.

She was feeling kind of choky and emotional, still upset with
herself for ending up here and suspecting that she wasn’t handling it
any too well, as she detoured into the living room where she vaguely
remembered discarding her jacket. The bass player, whose name
she couldn’t remember, and another man cut from the same
chiseled, surfjock mold, who looked vaguely familiar were sprawled


20


on the sofas, drinking coffee from takeout containers. She smiled
politely and said hello as she scooped up her jacket and little black
backpack from a chair, and added “Nice to have met you” for good
measure on her way out. She noticed an alarm panel next to the
massive front door, and hoped it wasn’t on, or she was about to
shatter the peace of the neighborhood. Too bad these guys are so
goddamn upscale, she thought, I bet there isn’t a bus stop for miles.
She turned the bolt, and yanked on the door, which didn’t move.
She was trying the lock in the other direction, when she heard “Hey!
Where do you think you’re going?” and turned to find Jeremy,
naked and unselfconscious, striding into the foyer and glaring at her.
He caught her by the arm, hauling her easily away from the door
and started to say, “Look, you can’t-” when voices, light and female,
coming from the other side of the house, caught both their attention.
Jeremy said under his breath “oh shit,” just as the bass player (Jack?
Erik?) and the surfjock wandered in from the living room, and a
very pretty and young blonde came through the dining room,
accompanied by a darker, plainer girl who had “best friend” written
all over her. Zanna had a feeling things were about to get terribly
awkward.
She was right. The blonde stopped in her tracks, with the friend
almost bumping into her, both with the same horrified expression on
their faces. You couldn’t blame them, really, Zanna thought. Here
she was, undoubtedly looking like something the cat had dragged in
after a hard night on the tiles, with uncombed hair and unlaced
boots, and there was Jeremy, stark naked, still gripping her bicep
and looking pissed off. The bass player was shuffling around
uncertainly, looking like he’d prefer to slope off but couldn’t (this
was his house, she remembered belatedly) and the surfjock just
looked interested.
The blonde’s face contorted, and she stared at Jeremy, her eyes
welling up, and said “You…you bastard!” in heartrending tones.
Zanna deduced that this must be the girlfriend. Had she been less
cynical, she might have felt guilty, but as it was, she just wanted to
escape.
Everyone started talking at once.
Jeremy: “Jaime. I’m sorry,” in a tight voice that didn’t sound
overly contrite.


21


Best friend: “You asshole.”
Bass player: “Maybe we should fix some coffee. Anyone want
coffee?”
Jaime, really crying now: “How could you? how could you do
this?”
Surfjock, looking at Zan: “You need a ride somewhere?”
She seized on that thankfully. “Yes! Anywhere’s fine, let’s go,”
she said, jerking her arm out of Jeremy’s grasp. He turned towards
her, seemingly about to say something, but the blond wailed, “Who
the fuck is she?” and he was distracted. Zanna slid away from him
as the surfjock twisted the locks around efficiently and politely held
the door for her. She couldn’t think of anything to say to the rest of
the assemblage, so she slipped past the surfjock as he said a blanket
“Later, dude” and they beat it out of there.
He had the inevitable Harley Davidson, but at that point she
didn’t care: she caught up the long diagonal side of her dress and
knotted it high on her thigh, then bent over and tied the laces of her
boots. Shrugging into her jacket, she fished an elastic tie out of a
pocket and looped her hair into a ponytail, then handed her
backpack to the surfjock to stuff into the saddlebag, and accepted in
return a pair of sunglasses. “Great, let’s get out of here, “ she said.
He grinned at her, and held out his hand. “I’m Kaoru,” he said.
“Zanna,” she replied, shaking. “Let’s go.” She glanced back
over her shoulder at the house.
“So how do you know Jeremy?” he asked. Zanna rolled her eyes.
“The phrase ‘horrible mistake’ comes to mind,” she replied. “Now,
can we get out of here?”
They roared down the twisting canyon road. Zan normally hated
being a passenger, but now she just wrapped her arms around her
rescuer’s waist and ducked her head down against his shoulder. At
the stop sign at the bottom of the hill, he twisted around and said,
“Where do you want to go?”
“Umm…is there a bus stop around here?” she asked.
He laughed, not taking that seriously at all. “Are you hungry?
Want to get some breakfast?”
Oh well, why not? She had just slept with a rocker, she might as
well have breakfast with a movie star. (She had finally recognized
him when he told her his unusual name).


22


“Sure,” she said.

Back at the house, Arik, the bass player, had left Jaime and Jeremy
to teary recriminations on one side and stony self control on the
other, and forcibly borne the Best Friend into the kitchen where she
was telling him, like, she couldn’t drink coffee because it was full of
toxins, and did he have any green tea? (He didn’t). Arik thought
wearily that it might not be a bad thing if they all quit seeing these
younger girls. Maybe it was time to grow up a little and meet some
women. That Zan girl…woman…whatever, had seemed like good
company, very sharp and a sense of humor as well, although it
looked like she and Jeremy weren’t doing so great this morning.
He offered the Best Friend a Perrier, which she accepted with
reluctance, because, like, the bubbles really aren’t good for your
blood balance.
Arik felt sorry for Jeremy, who was definitely in for a bad time
over the impending break-up. He and Jaime had been a rather high
profile couple, and much had been made in the press over Jeremy’s
conversion to monogamy. Arik was pretty sure the vipers would
like his fall from grace even better.
He never doubted that the relationship was beyond being patched
up. Shrewdly, he thought that Jaime would have allowed herself to
be soothed eventually into forgiveness – but judging from Jeremy’s
tight jawed demeanor, he wasn’t likely to be doing any soothing.
Arik suspected that last night hadn’t been a casual impulse on
Jeremy’s part, that he had really been knocked for a loop by this
Zanna girl. Woman, he corrected himself. Whatever. Jeremy
looked really pissed off when she left with Kaoru, although Arik
personally thought it was the best thing. Nothing was likely to get
resolved any better with Zanna standing there, so thoroughly and
exotically alien to her southern California surroundings in that
stretchy black thing and motorcycle boots, disheveled with tousled
hair, heavy eyes and lips that looked slightly bruised and swollen, in
a way that suggested a three hour kiss…all in all, she had the
indefinable look of someone who’s spent the better part of the night
making love.
Arik gave a snort of laughter, drawing a disapproving look from
Best Friend. Of course, it didn’t help that Jeremy was wearing


23


nothing but tattoos.


24









Chapter 3



To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Re: thanks and help

Kaoru, hello:
First, let me say thank you so much for the surfing lesson -
I had an absolutely wonderful time. I’m planning on going to
Hawaii for a vacation soon, and hopefully I won’t have
forgotten all you taught me.
Secondly, I need to get in touch with the guy whose house
we were at - I don’t know his name. I’m missing a work-in-
progress notebook, and I’m sure that must be where I left it.
Can you help me get a message to him?
Regards,
Zan


To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Re: problem here

Zanna, how nice to hear from you! I wasn’t sure you’d get in
touch.
Hey, come back to L.A. and I’ll make sure you get all the
surfing your heart desires. Hawaii’s great too, some excellent
breaks there. When are you going?
About your notebook…there may be a slight complication.


25


You did leave it at Arik’s place, but Jeremy found it. He’s
already called me, wanting to know how to get in touch with
you. I told him I’d have to check with you first, that I didn’t
think I should give out your email address without your okay.
He didn’t like that much. I could be wrong here, but since you
referred to him as a “horrible mistake” I thought you might be
avoiding him.
Let me know how you want me to handle this, okay? I’m
sure I haven’t heard the last from Jeremy.
Hugs and kisses,
Kaoru
p.s. what’s jumpcut? I mean, I know what it means in film,
but why is that your address?


You’re right, I’d just as soon not talk to Jeremy. Would you
mind awfully if he gave it to you, and I could give you my
mailing address to send it on? I’m sorry for the trouble…
Hawaii’s hopefully for Christmas and Jump Cut is a band
I’m in.
Thanks,
Z

Zanna, bad news: I don’t mind at all, and it’s no trouble,
but Jeremy won’t hand it over. He says you can call him at
213/426-7788.
I didn’t know you were in a band! Cool. What do you play?
Love, K

What?! I don’t want to talk to him! What’s he doing,
holding my notebook hostage??? Tell him to hand it over,
NOW!!!!
Don’t know if you mean what kind of music or what do I
play, but I’m guitar and vocals and we do a combo of original
and covers - I guess you’d call it alternative rock, genre-wise.
Love, Z

No go on your notebook, and Jeremy is really pissed at


26


both of us now.
Feel free to tell me it’s none of my business, but what’s with
you two??

I CANNOT BELIEVE THIS!!!!
HE’S mad at ME????
I don’t know what his problem is (and I’m afraid I kind of
made it into your business by asking you to be a go between,
and I am so sorry he’s mad at you now - I hope you weren’t
best friends).
I met him for the first time that night (which I realize makes
me look like a slut, I can only say it was an aberration) and it
ended badly (well, you were there) and I still don’t want to talk
to him. I can’t believe the nerve he’s got.
Thanks for trying.

Zanna darling, you don’t seem the least like a slut to me.
We’ve all done things that didn’t turn out so hot, so don’t beat
yourself up over this one.
I’ve known Arik Jones for years (that’s whose house we
were at, he’s the bass player for Sex Gun, Jeremy’s their
singer, if you didn’t know) and Jeremy and I used to go surfing
occasionally. He’s very good, competition class in fact, a lot
better than I am. I guess we’re friends, but I hang out with
Arik more. Jeremy is not the easiest guy to get along with.
So don’t feel like you wrecked a beautiful relationship. I’m
sure he’ll get over it, anyway.
Sorry I wasn’t able to be of more help. Can we still be
friends?
Love, K

But of course we can! Love to hear from you, anytime.
I do know who Sex Gun is (are?) generally, just not details
like names. I have to admit, I didn’t recognize Jeremy when I
met him, what with the haircut and the tattoos covered up. I
know that sounds stupid, when you think that we actually do a
couple of their songs, since they’re one of our drummer’s
favorite bands. Speaking of, we start recording a CD soon,


27


which is kind of exciting. We’re not exactly professionals- I
mean, we all have real jobs, etc, but we got this deal after
doing MTV’s cover band competition. (That’s why I was in
LA, to get the papers to sign from the label). Even if we never
sell a single CD, it’s still a kick.
Love, Z


I will definitely buy your CD. Did you win the competition?

No, they hated us. We don’t make any effort to sound like
the original. Also, we were doing Red Hot Chili Peppers, and
I think they were disappointed that we left our clothes on.
The guys in my band didn’t even tell me they’d sent in an
entry, until we made the cut and had to show up for the
competition. I would have voted against it for sure. But it just
goes to show that you never know, because while the
crowd/voters didn’t like us, some of the MTV people did, and
they sort of passed the word. Next thing ya know, we’ve got a
record deal. Go figure.


Z! Major development! Jeremy has given in, and I have
the notebook, so what’s your address?
Surf’s been great, went out all last week. Wish you were
here!
Start filming new flick soon, so I’m off to somewhere on
location in Oregon, they tell me.
Hugs and kisses, K

Hey, Z, did you get your package yet?

Kaoru, thanks, I did.
Only problem is, what he gave you isn’t my notebook. It’s
one of his.
So I guess I’ll either have to break down and call him, or
write it off. Hellhellhellhellhell….


28



Note included with red leather notebook:

I’m not giving it back until you talk to me. But fair is fair. I’ve
seen yours, I’ll show you mine.
My number is 213/426-7788. If you can’t bring yourself to call
before we go on tour, you can reach me via ARS Management,
888/456-9078 after that.



:oundlinc, Àu_u:i, !:::
Onc io Wuich· 1unµ Cui
MJ\' : rcccni covcr hund conµciiiion drcv ihc u:uul
u::orincni oI N :_nc vunnuhc:, hui unon_:i ihc
ho_hund: vu: onc rcul ircui. 1¹Ml C¹J, un oddhull
Iour:onc Iron Minncuµoli:, covcrcd ihc Rcd loi Chili
lcµµcr: Ior ihc conµciiiion, hui ii vu: ui ihc µuri_
uIicrvurd: ihui ihc_ rcull_ :hovcd ihcir :iuII. llu_in_
cvcr_ihin_ Iron :cx Cun io ihc :uµrcnc:, ihc_ nudc ii
ull :ound Irc:h und di:iinciivcl_ ihcir ovn.
1unµ Cui i: conµo:cd oI Zunnu Muriin, .1, on vocul:
und rh_ihn _uiiur, Muii Wildcr, Y5, vocul:/lcud _uiiur,
Ànd_ Miichcll, .o, hu::, und luvid Wcir, .!, on drun:.
Jhc_ udnii ihui µrior io ihc MJ\ _i_, no:i oI ihcir
uµµcuruncc: hud hccn ui u Jvin Ciiic: coIIcc hur.
¹nlilc ihc rc:i oI ihc cnir_, 1unµ Cui nulc: no cIIori
io lool or :ound lilc ihc hund: ihc_ covcr. Jhcir onl_
rc:cnhluncc io ihc Chili lcµµcr: und :cx Cun vould
uµµcur io hc ihcir cncr__ lcvcl, und u :inilur huII,
:iriµµcd dovn und :cxcd uµ lool. 1unµ Cui' : voculi:i
i: Icnulc, hovcvcr, vhich nulc: Ior un inicrc:iin_ ivi:i.
Zunnu Muriin' : hu:l_ rcndiiion oI ¨ Ju:ic ihc luin¨ i:
:curin_l_ :cx_ und could nulc u nu:ochi:i oui oI
un_onc. Whcn :hc _oc: ¨ ¹ndcr ihc Lrid_c,¨ ii' : lc::


29


oI u :ud luncni io :clI dc:iruciion ihun u :luµ dclivcrcd
in u noncni oI vcr_ iou_h lovc. Ànd vhilc no onc hu:
cvcr :uid 1crcn_ lunc lucl: :cxuul µoicnc_ in
dclivcrin_ uµ :cx Cun' : clu::ic ¨ lo You Wunnu
lnov'¨ Zunnu' : :nol_ voicc iulc: on u iuniulizin_
guulii_ ihui iurn: lunc' : linc: inio u µcr:onul inviiuiion
io icnµiuiion.
lor ihc lcµµcr:' ¨ :ucl n_ li::¨ Muriin und Muii
Wildcr :hurc vocul:, und don' i cvcn hoihcr io :iicl
clo:cl_ io ihc ori_inul l_ric: (¨ :ucl ihi:!¨ Muriin :in_:
oui hliihcl_) u: ihc_ curccn ihrou_h ii ui ioµ :µccd,
conhinin_ ruv ur_cnc_ viih u lind oI rolliclin_
µlu_Iulnc::. Wcurin_ u hricI :hiri ihui lool: lilc ii _oi
cuu_hi in u :hrcddcr und conhui Iuii_uc: hulI unziµµcd
und Ioldcd dovn on hcr lcun hiµ:, Zunnu Muriin i: hoih
iou_h und Icnininc, :huµcl_ und :iron_. lcr iuuil_
:culµicd hod_ i: u: rivciin_ u: hcr durll_ icxiurcd
vocul:. Wildcr, clud in cuno: und rcd hi_h ioµ :nculcr:,
und di:µlu_in_ hoih udniruhlc nu:culuiurc und u irul_
vondcrIul dru_on iuiioo, i: hcr µcrIcci nulc counicrµuri.
Jhc_ huvc :onc :irilin_ novc:, includin_ u lind oI
iun_o donc Iucin_ cuch oihcr, viih ihcir _uiiur: hurc
inchc: uµuri u: ihc_ :u:hu_ ucro:: ihc :iu_c.
Wildcr doc: lcud vocul: on :cvcrul :on_:, und hi:
voicc hu: u ru:µ_ cd_c ihui, ulon_ viih :onc drivin_
_uiiur licl:, nulc ihcir unlilcl_ covcr oI ihc :uµrcnc:
:on_ ¨ RcIlcciion:¨ uciuull_ vorl u: _run_c rocl. Jhc
vholc hund µcrIorn: viih un inIcciiou: cncr__ ihui' :
uµµculin_, hui ii' : ihc ivo voculi:i/_uiiur µlu_cr: vho
liIi ihc µcrIornuncc inio unoihcr rculn. Jhc hund onl_
did u Icv ori_inul: ui ihc µo:i conµciiiion µuri_, hui onc
in µuriiculur, ¨ Lovc i: u 1 Lciicr Word,¨ indicuic: ihui
ihc_ cun vriic u: vcll u: µlu_. Wiih ihi: lind oI iulcni,
don' i cxµcci ihcn io _o hucl io ihui coIIcc hur Ior


30


lon_.

Zanna tried to think of how a conversation with Jeremy Kane
might go, but her mind boggled at the idea of calling him.
Despondently, she decided she might have to write off her notebook.
She eyed the notebook he had sent her, sitting innocently on her
kitchen counter. She hadn’t really looked at it. It didn’t seem right,
somehow. Although that was stupid, since he obviously meant for
her to read it or he wouldn’t have sent it. (And he was obviously
reading hers, which made her cringe – she didn’t think she wanted
anyone to know her that well). She wondered briefly why he was
making such a big deal of this, but her mind skittered away from
what felt like dangerous territory.
She just couldn’t bring herself to call him. She felt sick at the
mere idea of dialing. She might have been able to talk to him if she
had happened to run into him in person, but she could not call him.
She did need to call her band, however. She punched in Andy’s
number, and when he answered, said, “Hey, I’m back.”
“All right! So how did it go?”
“Well…fine, I guess. Good, really,” she said, trying to get some
conviction into it. “I’ve got the contracts and everything is ready to
go. We should all get together, and go over it, though.”
“Today?”
“Okay.” She hesitated. “Andy, do you still have that ‘Behind the
Music’ tape you were playing at the party, before we went to New
York?”
“Think so. Why?”
“Oh, nothing really. I’d kind of like to see it again. Just curious
about something…” her voice trailed off.
“I’ll look for it. Listen, Matt’s working at the caf this afternoon, so
how about if we meet there? I’ll call Dave. Three o’clock work for
you?”
“Sure.”
Andy went on, “So, did you have fun? See any famous people in
Hollywood?”
“Actually, Hollywood is pretty seedy,” she told him. “Although it
was kind of fun to see places like the Whiskey, and the Viper Room,
because of reading about them.”


31


“What, no movie stars?”
“Uh, well…yeah, I guess I did see one. I met Kaoru Rhodes. The
guy from that sci-fi movie where we couldn’t figure out what was
virtual and what was real?”
“Wow! How’d you meet him? Was he nice?” She could hear
Andy shifting the phone into a more comfortable position.
“He was extremely nice, and not as spacey as you’d think,” she
said.
“So you actually got to talk to him?”
“Um, yeah. Quite a long time, in fact.”
“How’d that happen?” he asked curiously. “I would have thought
those movie star types were inaccessible.”
Too late, Zanna realized this conversation was headed into
awkward territory. Editing out several chapters of How She Met a
Movie Star, she said, “I saw him at the beach.” Technically true,
she thought. “He sort of took me surfing.”
“No kidding!” Andy was impressed. “I didn’t know you could
surf.”
“I can now.” Zanna felt like she was getting bogged down, one
little step at a time, in something that was likely to lead to a need for
further explanations that she really, really didn’t want to make.
“I need to get going,” she said. “I’ll see you all at three.” She rang
off.
Andy hung up thoughtfully. Zan definitely sounded weirded out.
He wondered what had really gone on in California.

Zanna thumped her head against the kitchen counter, and groaned.
How could she tell her guys that in addition to negotiating a good
contract for a neophyte band that wasn’t sure what it was doing, she
also appeared to have started a feud with the frontman for one of the
most influential, and most notorious, bands on the alternative rock
scene?
She was merciless in admitting to herself that what she had done
was incredibly stupid, but wouldn’t you think that what usually
happened is the guy forgot all about you, as soon as you were out
the door, if not before? She sighed. She supposed it was the fates,
punishing her for such carelessness. Or just having a good laugh.
She decided to try and de-stress before the coffee shop meeting, so


32


she grabbed her gym bag and headed for the Y.
Running on the treadmill, listening to her headset radio, she tried
to put things in perspective as she jogged along to Oasis. Okay, so
she was in a band. That in itself was weird, given that a year ago
she didn’t play an instrument and she had never sung in public.
These things kind of sneak up on you, she mused. Where did it
start? With writing, she supposed. When she suddenly started
writing what seemed to be song lyrics, instead of journal entries, or
essays. Sitting at the bar at the coffee shop and scribbling.
The Foo Fighters came on, and she speeded up the treadmill in
time to Dave Grohl’s hard driving guitar lick.
And that was how she had met Matt, because he worked at the caf,
and he was curious about what she was always working on. They
had started talking, in a desultory way at first, and then really having
conversations. Eventually she showed him one of her fragments
(what would eventually become “Love is a 4 Letter Word”) and he
liked it. They ended up sitting down together with his guitar, and
working out a melody.
Then he started teaching her guitar, over her objections that she
was totally lacking in musical talent – not really to play, he said, but
so you can write more easily. A songwriter ought to know some
chords, he argued, and she gave in and started fooling around with
it. Before long they were jamming together regularly, redoing
covers in their own developing style, working on their own songs.
Then Andy, who owned a music store, came in the caf one day when
they were trying to come up with chords for “Just Say Go.” And
David, one of Matt’s neighbors, started sitting in on their jams,
which somehow turned into practices, and then they were playing at
the Black Dog. Just for fun…and before you knew it, she thought, it
was the MTV competition, and now it was “going into the studio”
and discussing videos…yikes. An awful lot had happened in a short
period of time. No wonder she had gone a little crazy.
It’s not that big a deal, she told herself. I can deal with this. I
screwed up, and did something stupid and impulsive that I shouldn’t
have, but it’s not like it’s a federal offense….the important thing is
that this band gig is a once in a lifetime thing, and we have to take
advantage of the opportunity we’ve got.
She had been so deep in thought that she hadn’t really noticed what


33


the radio had been playing. And so it came as a real shock to
suddenly register Jeremy Kane’s distinctive voice in her ear,
intoning, “twisting, turning/ writhing, burning/ I will find my way
to you.”
She stumbled, caught herself, heard “…longing, yearning/and
when I do, I’ll forever be in you” and faltered again.
But it was the chorus that did her in. His voice was low, clear and
intimate:

“And deep inside you know/I won’t ever let you go.”

That stopped her dead in her tracks, and she promptly fell off the
back of the treadmill.

Zanna was the last one to arrive at the caf, which was good because
she particularly wanted to avoid a tete a tete with Matt. David and
Andy had staked out their usual corner, David sprawled out on the
couch with its seriously sprung springs, and Andy in the battered
velvet wing chair. Zanna felt a rush of affection as she sent them a
smile on her way to the counter: we don’t look like a rock band, she
thought. David had evidently come from his studio. His baggy gray
t-shirt was liberally smeared with paint and a flaky white substance
that Zanna surmised to be plaster. Andy, in tweed jacket and wire
rims, looked like a professor. In an attempt to bolster her flagging
spirits, Zanna had changed into one of her favorite outfits: an ocean
blue silk shift with side slits high enough to be interesting.
On the other hand, Matt did look like a potential rock star, with
his long brown hair pulled high in a ponytail, emphasizing the
strong bones of his face. Silver studs ringed one ear, and his
muscular arms bore the de rigueur tattoos. A sudden flash of
memory- his arms, the armband style tattoos on his biceps, the way
his arm flexed as he held her back from the door, the feel of his hand
gripping her tightly…what was that tattoo, anyway, she thought
irrelevantly. Something kind of thorny looking, she remembered…
Matt pushed a steaming cup of chai across the counter, then
leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Welcome back from lalaland,”
he said. She felt like bursting into tears. He called out to his
coworker, “Alison, can you manage for a while?” and at her nod,


34


ducked under the counter to join Zan.
“So,” said David, making room for Zanna on the couch, as Matt
reversed a straight back chair and straddled it, his arms crossed on
the back. “What have you got for us?”
“Contracts,” she replied, pulling them out of her pack with a
flourish. “Which you should all read before you sign,” she added
severely. They ignored her. David signed first, looking up at her
over his horn rims. “Tell us about it, ” he invited.
She sighed. “You lot are hopeless.”
Andy said easily, “What’s the good of having a lawyer in your
band if you can’t use her expertise?”
She outlined it for them, noting that at least Matt was looking
over the forms. Probably humoring her, she thought, but bless him
anyway. He raised his eyes suddenly and met hers gravely, and her
heart plummeted again. God, she felt like such a slut. Sternly she
reminded herself that she and Matt weren’t, and they were never
going to be, it wasn’t like she had cheated on him, for crying out
loud…resolutely she dragged her mind back to business and told
them what Rachel had said about recording, and making videos.
Matt grinned suddenly, and said, “This is so cool. Just like a real
band,” and they all laughed at that, but it was true, they felt like
conspirators pulling something off.
“So tell us everything,” David was saying. “Andy says you were
hanging out with movie stars and shit.”
“Oh no, not really. Although Rachel did to take me to a club
where we saw some people she said were in one of those horror
flicks, Shriek no. 115, or whatever, and we went to a party where
there were a lot of music people, but I didn’t recognize many of
them – I think a lot were studio musicians, and techies. But I did see
one of the Foo Fighters – not Grohl, the blonde guy,” she offered.
“So what about Kaoru Rhodes?” Andy asked. “You met him,
right?” The others looked interested, since Kaoru Rhodes made
some pretty decent movies.
“Yeah, I did meet him, he’s really nice,” said Zan.
“Was he at the club, or the party?” David wanted to know.
“Uh…neither, actually. I….um…met him at a house…” She
paused, frantically searching for a way of changing the subject.
“Whose house?” persisted David. She wanted to kill him.


35


“Arik Jones’ place,” she said flatly, unable to think of any way to
avoid it.
“From Sex Gun? Wow, Z, you met him?”
“Not exactly. I mean, I sort of ran into him, but I was leaving…”
Her voice trailed off. They were all looking at her expectantly. She
tried to think of an innocuous way out of this. Starting over, she
improvised “with Kaoru – he asked me out to breakfast-” Too late,
she realized where that led, and stumbled to a standstill.
Smiling broadly, Andy said, “Out with it, Zanna! You may as
well come clean and tell us. Exactly what kind of trouble did you
get into in LA?”
She groaned. Despairingly she said, “No. I can’t. It’s awful.”
“Oh christ, just tell us!” said Matt.
She dropped forward, arms on knees and head on arms, and said
in a muffled voice, “I was really, really stupid.”
“And?” said David encouragingly.
She sat up, and said flatly, “I drank too much tequila and slept
with a rock star, okay? Satisfied?”
“Were you?” murmured David. She glared at him.
“So who was it?” prodded Andy. Zanna winced, and told them.
“Jeremy Kane?” Matt stared at her. “My god, Z, were you out of
your mind?”
She snapped, “Well, obviously!”
“I mean – isn’t he a heroin addict?” Matt went on. “Isn’t that
kind of dangerous?”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
David said thoughtfully, “I think he’s been clean for a while-” but
Matt disregarded this and said, “And isn’t he a psycho-”
Zanna said unhappily, “Apparently. In fact, I’ve got a bit of a
problem here.” She recounted the saga of her notebook.
Matt was shaking his head. “You know, Z, I’m all in favor of
you falling off your chaste little wagon, just on general principle, but
Jeremy Kane…couldn’t you at least have gone for Kaoru Rhodes?”
Suddenly struck by a thought, he said, “Or did you…”
“No!” she yelled.
David said consolingly, “Look at it this way, it could have been
worse.”
“How?” Matt asked, rather sourly.


36


“She could have slept with Trent Reznor. Scott Weiland.
Anthony Kiedis,” offered David. Zanna threw a contract at him.
Andy looked interested. “How is Anthony Kiedis worse than
Jeremy Kane?”
“Well, Jeremy Kane’s pretty down to earth, not all Southern
California New Age…”
“Jeremy Kane’s a fucking felon!” interjected Matt.
“That was a long time ago, I think he was like eighteen or
something. Give the guy a break,” said David largely. “And at least
Sex Gun never made a really goddamn depressing record, or kept
pulling out of shows.”
“That still doesn’t make Kane preferable,” Andy objected. “If
Z’s going to be stalked by a rock star, I’d rather it was someone
without a rap sheet.”
“I’d rather it was Mick Jagger,” said Matt gloomily.
David hooted. “He’s old enough to be her father!”
“Exactly,” said Matt.
Andy said, “Look, let’s go over to my place and watch that
‘Behind the Music’ thing on Sex Gun again. Better the devil you
know…we can get a pizza.”

Zanna hadn’t paid much attention to the band biography videos
Andy had playing on his VCR at their pre-MTV gig celebration.
She hadn’t registered much more than all these people seemed to
have a lot of personal problems, most of them did a lot of drugs, and
Anthony Kiedis looked pretty good in a tube sock. Now, though,
sitting down in Andy’s living room with the rest of Jump Cut, she
got the full effect, and rapidly lost her appetite for the pizza they’d
ordered.
She had to admit, the show on Sex Gun was extremely well done,
a mixture of old and new footage, still shots, interviews, with a
narrator tying it all together, and their music often playing in the
background. It went through the band’s early years, to their present
resurgence. There were segments on the band’s controversial
material, including their songs (Arik Jones: “It seems pretty tame
stuff now, but I think when we did it, blatant sexual references were
considered more shocking.” Jeremy: “I write about sex because it’s
one of the most fascinating human endeavors there is.” Quick,


37


wicked grin. “Or maybe just because I think about it a lot. But what
I find really striking is its contradictory nature – how it’s this
incredibly intimate, personal way of relating to another human
being, yet can leave you feeling completely alone and alienated”)
their live performances (Daniel da Silva: “Who knew you could get
arrested for wearing a jock strap?” Narrator: “Never mind the
jockstraps, Jeremy Kane also went the full monty on a few
memorable occasions.” Jeremy: “Must have been a phase I was
going through. It seems kind of funny, now. But I quit doing it
when I realized a lot of other people were getting naked – it had lost
its distinction, you know?”) and some of their visual depictions
(Narrator: the album cover for Down & In created quite a stir, as the
band posed naked, with body parts strategically arranged so that one
man’s shoulder screened another’s privates. Still, it was more
revealing than the public was used to.” Arik: “We thought it was a
cool picture.” Johnny Deal: “For some reason, that started rumors
that we were gay.”)
It also covered their legendary disputes with their former
management team (Manager: “Jeremy Kane is a talented, good
looking sonofabitch with a vicious temper.” Arik: “We reached a
point with them where we just didn’t see eye to eye”) and record
company (Record executive: “They were a bunch of surf bums with
an arrogant, screw you attitude to everything and everyone.” Arik:
“There were some creative differences, so we parted ways.”) There
were references to their inability to get along with others, as
evidenced by an argument with another band at Lollapalooza, which
escalated into an all out brawl (Jeremy: “Everyone had ingested
way too many chemicals.” Johnny: “They started it.” Daniel: “I
think those other guys were just trying to be macho, and thought
there’d be some pushing and shoving and that would be it, but you
don’t want to bluff like that with Jeremy, he doesn’t get it – and the
rest of us have to back him up.” Arik: “Somewhere out there is a
report card on us, that probably says ‘Does not play well with
others.’” Guy from other band: “Jeremy Kane is a complete
psycho.”)
Although the show was definitely about the whole band, there
was a lot of individual focus on Jeremy. The narrator noted that
Jeremy was reticent about his childhood and adolescence (Jeremy:


38


“It was a normal, dysfunctional childhood. It sucked”) and that as
far as the public knows, his life apparently began in his midteens,
when he began to garner attention on several fronts: he was winning
surfing competitions regularly, competing with some success in
motocross racing, and formed the band Sex Gun. A few surfers gave
sound bites (“He was awesome, man”) as did a former motocross
competitor (“Jeremy went all out, with a complete disregard for
personal safety. Usually, he either crashed, or placed.”)
The drugs were dealt with in unvarnished fashion, and Jeremy
himself was surprisingly open about it. (“I started messing with
heroin when I wasn’t much more than a kid, but it wasn’t until later
that I became an addict. It’s strange stuff: it’s got a kind of allure to
it, that walk on the dark side, the competition between the blackest
part of your soul, and the part of you that knows better. And I can’t
say, now, that I’m cured. I’m well, yeah, I’d say that, but not cured.
I don’t have any impulse to use now, and haven’t for a long time,
but it’s a mistake to ever count your demons out – they’ll rise up and
slap you around, just to teach you some respect.”)
There were also allusions to his apparent inability to sustain
relationships. One ex-girlfriend, a well known model, said,
“Jeremy can be very charming, but he doesn’t grasp or doesn’t care
about the conventions that govern relationships.” Another woman,
an actress who had dated him briefly, said, “Jeremy just doesn’t get
it. Most of the time he can’t relate to women except on a sexual
level.” A member of another rock band, who’d toured with Sex Gun
in the early 90s, said, “They were all pretty wild, and Kane’s no
angel, that’s for sure. Believe me, he’s f**ked his share of
backstage ass. He’s done it right next to me, on one occasion.”
Jeremy himself didn’t have much to say on this issue, beyond “I’ve
done some things that I certainly wouldn’t do now, but you live and
learn.” There was also a brief clip showing him with his current
girlfriend, the young blonde model Zanna had seen at the house, at
some awards event, and the narrator commented on the apparent
seriousness of this latest relationship (as evidenced by the fact that
it had lasted over a year).
But by then, even Matt could see why Zanna had been attracted.
Jeremy came across as intelligent, well spoken and personable, with
an engaging honesty, flashes of often self deprecating humor, and a


39


refreshing lack of egotism.
The last part of the video was more upbeat, concentrating on
“After the Hurricane,” and the newfound focus and apparent mental
health of the band. The word “maturity” was used several times.
Sex Gun were shown in the recording studio, doing the song
“Troubles of My Own” and one of the final shots was of Jeremy and
Arik at the beach, arms thrown around each other’s shoulders,
laughing at the camera.
The credits were rolling on the screen against some live footage
of Sex Gun playing a concert, when David said tentatively, “It
wasn’t all that bad.”
Matt said crossly, “Yes, it was. Christ, Z’s attracted a nutcase.”
Andy said, in his usual calm fashion, “I wouldn’t say he’s crazy.
A difficult person, sure, but not nuts. Interesting guy, anyway. And
that band is something of a legend.”
“They seem like they’ve really gotten themselves together this
time,” commented David.
Zanna had said nothing. She was still staring blankly at the
screen, but no one supposed that she was actually watching the next
episode on the tape. Matt doubted that the Red Hot Chili Peppers
were registering on her consciousness at all, at the moment.
“Paging Zanna,” he said. “Come in, Z.”
She looked up. “What?”
“Quite the boyfriend you’ve picked up,” said Matt.
Zanna said, “I didn’t mean to. It just happened.”
“Don’t worry about it, Z,” said Andy comfortingly. “Odds are
he’ll have forgotten all about you in a month. It sounds like he has a
short attention span, where women are concerned.”
“Let’s hope, ” said Matt darkly.

To: Jill Stanley
From: Arik Jones
Re: Hi

Just wanted to say it was great to see you, after all this
time…who knew Steve’s pesky little sister would grow up to
be a high-powered business executive, as well as a gorgeous
babe...if that’s a sexist remark, I apologize in advance, and I


40


wish you’d tell me, because I’m trying to be more sensitive
about these things.
We’re in town for a while, rehearsing for the next round of
touring (which consists largely of moseying up and down the
West Coast, so we’ll be around through most of the fall) I was
thinking maybe we could have dinner, or something??
Everything’s going great with the band, nice change from
the past, everyone still straight, and not crazy. Well, except
maybe Jeremy-I mean he’s straight, not using or anything, but
I’m not so sure about the crazed part….he broke up with
Jaime (did you know her?) not that I’m saying that was a bad
idea, but it happened after he met and fell madly in love with
some girl at a party. Only problem is, she’s disappeared –
and he somehow failed to learn her last name, or where she’s
from, or really any useful information at all….


41


To: Arik
From: Jill
Re: hi yourself

It was nice to see you, too, and yes, I’d love to get together
again. I’m gone on business Wed-Fri this week, but around
all next week, if that works for you.
I was so glad to hear you’re all doing well! But – Jeremy in
love??? Are you serious? What’s she like?
Saw Sandra Wolf last week, she said …

...Jeremy’s mystery girl was not his usual type, by any
means. Although, now that I think about it, I don’t know that
he has a type, since he usually just takes one because she’s
there and making herself available. It’s sort of like how he
always eats the strawberries at backstage food spreads (but
never buys them at the store).
Anyway, she was older than his last few, maybe late
twenties. She knows music hands on – that’s how he met
her, he and Rob Demont and some others were screwing
around with song arrangements, and somehow she ended up
part of it. Jeremy got the impression she might be in
production. Anyway, she wasn’t exactly pretty, but had the
kind of face that you keep looking back at. Jeremy was pretty
much knocked on his ass, and they seemed to hit it off, at
least, she came back here with him but - left hastily in the
morning with no forwarding address. It’s driving him nuts, he
thinks he met the love of his life and she got away.
Unfortunately, she left with Kaoru, who apparently got more
information than did Jeremy, and won’t cough up any of it.
Jeremy wants to kill him, I think….

….sad for Jeremy, especially since this must be the first
real woman he’s been with in a long time, as opposed to
those half baked models and actresses he usually dates, but
maybe she’ll resurface at some point…


42









Chapter 4



It seemed like he had just, finally, gotten to sleep when the phone
rang.
Cursing, Jeremy reached for it, knocking it off the bedside table
and onto the floor. Fumbling blindly for it, he could hear a tiny
voice saying “Hello? hello?” He finally captured the receiver and
rolling onto his back again, said, “Yeah?”
It was Daniel. “Quick, go turn on MTV!”
“What the hell-” Jeremy began, but Daniel interrupted. “Just do
it! Go! Call me back!” and hung up.
Jeremy hauled himself out of bed, and padded out to the den. It
took him a few seconds to locate the remote, several more to figure
out what channel was MTV. Still half asleep, he sat down, staring
muzzily at a video shot of a guy playing a lead. It looked like
concert footage. Jeremy looked at it uncomprehendingly, not in the
least getting why Daniel thought this was significant enough to call
at 2 a.m.
The camera shifted, and the screen was full of a close-up shot of
a girl singing. And then he was suddenly and completely wide
awake, because the girl was the elusive Zanna. Her voice had a
husky timbre, but she sang about walking away and tasting the pain
with an edginess that was compelling.
He stared unbelievingly at the screen. She looked different, with
her hair caught back in a ponytail that switched with her
movements. The camera pulled back as she spun around, keeping
the rhythm on a Stratocaster as the lead player did a jazzy, sliding
riff. Part of Jeremy’s brain flickered in appreciation; it was nicely
done. They finished with a crash of chords and drums, and the final


43


shot was of Zan blowing a kiss to the audience. The tag at the
bottom of the screen read:

Jump Cut
Taste the Pain
MTV cover band competition

He was still sitting there in shock when the phone rang. He
snatched it up, and hit the mute button on the remote.
Daniel again. “That was her, right? The woman from the session
at Rob’s place. Did you know she was in a band?”
“Yeah, that was her all right. And no, she didn’t say anything
about a band. I only caught the tail end, did you tape it?”
Daniel was apologetic. “No, sorry, I didn’t think of it. But
look,” he consoled. “You could ask someone at MTV to get it for
you, right? We must know people at MTV.”
Jeremy thought it over. If they had a tape of Zanna, then MTV
also had to know who she was. “Brilliant idea,” he pronounced. He
tried to think of who at MTV he hadn’t pissed off for a while.
Daniel was a step ahead. “I think what you do, is call some
schlep in production. They’ll be so thrilled at actually getting to talk
to an artist, they’ll turn cartwheels for you.”
“Yeah, that’s a good idea. Thanks. I’ll talk to you tomorrow,
okay?” Jeremy hung up, and stared at the silent flickering screen.
In his mind, he was replaying the briefly glimpsed video. Then he
was replaying that night with her. And seeing her caught-in-the-
headlights expression the next morning. He smiled slightly, and
said to himself, “You’re mine now, Zanna, love. There is no way I
won’t find you, now.”

Jeremy decided to let ARS, Sex Gun’s management people, run
some interference for him with MTV. So in the morning he called
Shel’s assistant, Nancy, and explained what he wanted. He was on
his second cup of coffee when she called back.
“Okay, I’ve got someone for you,” she said briskly. “Serenity
Hogan, research assistant.” She read off a number. “She’s suitably
lowly and star-struck that she should do a good job for you. She’s
expecting your call, and probably holding her breath, so do it soon.”


44


She added severely, “And Jeremy, be nice to the girl.”
“I’m always nice,” he retorted. Nancy made a rude noise and
hung up without saying goodbye. He grinned, and dialed up
Serenity, who did in fact sound very breathy when she answered.
Nancy had filled her in. She didn’t have many questions.
“You want everything I can find on the band Jump Cut, and their
singer Zanna Martin, right? Print, video, everything? We should
have stuff like publicity photos, too.”
Jeremy registered that Zan’s last name was Martin. He liked the
idea of pictures. “Everything, “ he confirmed.
“I’ll get right to it,” Serenity breathed. “And I send it care of
ARS? Do you want overnight?”
“Overnight would be great,” he answered. “And Serenity, thanks
for doing this.”
“Oh, it’s no trouble at all!” she assured him earnestly. He
thought that Daniel had been right on target with his analysis of the
psychology of schleps. He felt a little bit sorry for Serenity, who
must have a pretty drab life if doing favors for him was such a thrill.
She was saying, rather timidly, “Can I just tell you something? I
love ‘After the Hurricane.’ I think it’s the best thing Sex Gun has
ever done.”
Jeremy was touched. “That’s nice of you,” he told her. “You
want an autographed CD, or anything?”
She squeaked “Omigod, yes!” He laughed and told her to be sure
and include a return address for herself with the package. She said,
“Oh! I will! Thank you!” Jeremy said goodbye and rang off,
confident that Serenity would do him proud.
And she did. The next day, after a call from Nancy, he dropped
by ARS’ Century City offices and picked up a surprisingly bulky
package. He opened it in the car, sitting in the parking ramp,
oblivious to the stifling heat. Inside was a typed note from Serenity:

Dear Mr. Kane: this is everything I could get on the band
and Zanna (Suzanne) Martin. Enclosed please find:

1. video, Taste the Pain, MTV release
2. video, interview with Jump Cut, unedited
3. video, Jump Cut competition entry, with additional


45


footage
4. articles from Soundline and RockNet, with publicity
stills

Very truly yours, Serenity (with an address).

Jeremy made a mental note to send Serenity a whole shitload of Sex
Gun paraphernalia, as he started the car. He could hardly wait to get
back to Arik’s big screen TV and VCR.

Arik wandered in as Jeremy was rewinding the video from the MTV
competition. “What’s that?” he asked.
“Take a look,” invited Jeremy, hitting the play button again.
“See anyone familiar?”
Arik collapsed beside him on the couch, and they both watched
as the camera focused on the lead player, a good looking young guy
whose bare, muscular torso and tattooed arms would have looked
right at home with the band he was covering, or with Sex Gun
themselves, for that matter. A trailer at the bottom of the screen
informed them that this was the MTV cover band competition,
performing the Red Hot Chili Peppers, from St. Paul, Minnesota,
JUMP CUT.
Then Zanna was on screen, singing about lying in a lonely
sprawl, in a tantalizingly smoky voice.
Arik said, “Holy shit, it’s that Zan girl!”
“Uh huh.” Jeremy’s eyes were on the screen as she tossed her
hair back and went into the chorus of “Taste the Pain.” She
interacted a lot with the lead player, he noticed, eye contact, quick
smiles, and some pretty seductive body language as they jammed on
the break.
Arik said critically, “They’re pretty good, but that’s the wrong
song for this kind of event – hardly anyone knows it except diehard
Pepperheads. Should have done ‘Give it away.’”
“They do ‘Under the Bridge’ later,” said Jeremy absently. Zanna
was back at the mike, her hips swinging in time to the rhythm. It
was mesmerizing.
“The lead player looks kind of like a young Anthony, though,
doesn’t he?” continued Arik. “Taller and maybe a bit thinner, but


46


definitely the same kind of face. She’s something the Chilis never
saw the likes of, though.” Zanna was freestyling through the last
chorus, her voice soaring effortlessly and then dropping into a
throaty growl. “God, she’s sexy as hell,” he added.
The next song was the RHCP megahit, “Under the Bridge.”
Zanna did a no frills rendition, and Jeremy wondered, with an odd
twisting feeling, how she felt about singing a song written from the
perspective of a junkie. Her style was very different from the
original – Anthony Kiedis gave it a wistful quality, while Zanna’s
inflections were cool and ironic. She delivered the last verse
though, with a tone that was almost harsh, as if she had more anger
than sympathy for those who almost gave their lives away, then she
turned sharply from the audience.
“Very nice,” commented Arik approvingly. “That kid on lead is
really good, isn’t he?”
“Yeah,” said Jeremy unenthusiastically. The lead player had just
put the guitar aside to hug Zanna, and it didn’t look like a
particularly brotherly or platonic hug to Jeremy.
The next clip on the tape was an interview with the band. The
interviewer was one of the music network’s young vee jays, a guy
with spiky blond hair who had interviewed Sex Gun once. Jeremy
couldn’t stand him. He didn’t know anything about music, and had
made a point of asking Jeremy how many times he’d been arrested.
(Answer: “I don’t keep count.”)
He’d met his match with Jump Cut, however. The quartet were
relaxed and articulate, playing off each other with the ease of old
acquaintance, responding to questions with sharp, dry humor. It
was obvious that Zanna and Co. had an irreverent attitude towards
the music business, and the people in it. Jeremy was enjoying their
somewhat acerbic responses until his own name came up.

EXCERPT: MTV interview transcript.
VJ: So you covered the Chili Peppers for this show, and we heard
you do Sex Gun at the party – do you cover other bands too?

Zan: oh sure, we screw up a lot of people’s stuff.
David: we’re playing about half covers and half originals these
days.


47


Andy: except a lot of the covers are so obscure, no one knows them,
so they think we’re doing mostly originals.
Zan: either that, or we butcher them so badly people just can’t
recognize our versions.

VJ: do you have much in common, as far as lifestyle goes, with
bands like the Peppers and Sex Gun?

Andy: (laughing) Practically nothing! They’re rich and famous-
David: and we’re not.
Andy: we all have day jobs-
David: and we’re guessing they don’t.
Matt: our lead singer has no tattoos-
Zan (twisting her arms in front of her) Virgin skin, see?
Matt: although she does go to jail pretty often-
Zan (shoves him): that’s work, it doesn’t count!
Andy, explaining: she’s a lawyer. That’s her day job.
Zan: one of them, anyway.


Arik said disbelievingly, “She’s a lawyer? Did you know that?”
“Not til I got this stuff,” said Jeremy. “As it happens, sweet
Zanna was not particularly forthcoming with information that
night.”

Matt: we’re kind of dull. No substance abuse-
David: oh, I don’t know about that. I’d call that Ben & Jerry’s habit
you and Z had going for a while there, substance abuse.
Andy: they were eating it for breakfast. They claimed it was one of
the four main food groups.
Zan: only the flavors that had fruit, like Cherry Garcia.
Matt: anyway, no one’s been in rehab.
Zan: can you tell they’ve been watching “Behind the Music”?
Andy: and we’ve never done anything remotely interesting with
socks.
Matt: and none of us date teenage models.
David: yeah, what is with that? Why do so many of these guys go
out exclusively with really young women?


48



VJ: I don’t have the answer. My girlfriend’s two years older than I
am. What do you think?

David: I think there’s something wrong with a guy whose
girlfriends stay the same age over a 20 year period of his life.
Zan: maybe if the girlfriends don’t age, the guys can kid themselves
that they aren’t either. Kind of sad, actually.
Matt: I think it’s insecurity. Young girls are good at mindless
adoration, women challenge you.

VJ: how old are you?
Matt: I’m 25. And I’d be bored senseless with some 19 year old
wannabe actress.
Zan: you know, I’ve noticed something else though. For a lot of
these bands, they’ve been together for a long time, and their closest
relationships are with each other. You share so much when you
work together, tour together, etc., that it can make for a very tight
bond. Plus, a lot of these guys are sort of relationship challenged.
They’ve had a lifestyle that means they never had to have real jobs,
and learn to get along in the everyday world. In the music business,
if you get successful early on, you have a lot of people sucking up to
you, and it’s not conducive to learning normal people skills. They
end up without much sense of how to relate to people outside of
their bands. (laughs) And let’s face it, if you’re from Southern
California, you’re working with a big handicap in the reality
sweepstakes anyway!

Arik said uncomfortably, “You think she’s on to something?”
“Probably,” said Jeremy. “You think the lead guitar’s got
something going with her?”
“Probably,” said Arik, “or at least, he’d like to.”

VJ: I have to admit, that when I heard this band, Jump Cut, was
covering the Chili Peppers and Sex Gun, with a female vocalist, I
just couldn’t see it. A girl singing Jeremy Kane’s stuff just doesn’t
compute. How did you decide to pick those songs?



49


David: well, Sex Gun’s my fault. They’re my favorite band.
Matt: basically, we all pick something we like to work on. The
Peppers were both Z’s and my choice. I don’t remember what Andy
had.
Andy: I wanted Van Morrison, but you voted me down.
Zan: so tell. Why did you think it was weird?

VJ: I can see maybe “If I Could” because that’s a slow, soulful sort
of song, but you do numbers like “Come Hard” as well. That just
seemed strange, for a woman.
Zan: you know, I never thought that song was about sex.

VJ: uh, what?

Zan: I always thought it was using sexual connotations as a
metaphor to talk about the frustration of life in general.

VJ: uh, what?

Jeremy exclaimed, “She is the only person who has ever gotten that!
Now do you see why I think we’re meant for each other?” He stared
raptly at her image. She was giving the VJ an amused look.

Zan: I think it’s using sexual imagery to show how you feel so
much anticipation, when you’re young, for what life will offer you.
And you have all this energy, and desire, and longing, but you’re not
sure exactly what it is you want. And it can be very frustrating,
because you just know that somewhere out there, is something more
– but it’s eluding you, and in the meantime you have to deal with all
the petty details of your mundane existence. (pauses) Okay, I lost
you, didn’t I? Oh well, how’d you like our version, anyway? Still
think a chick can’t sing Sex Gun?

VJ: hey, you made a believer out of me.

Arik said, “I don’t really see where this is getting you.”
“I want to know everything possible about her,” retorted Jeremy,
“before I make the next move.”


50


Arik thought about this. “I don’t see how you can make a move,
since you don’t know how to get hold of her.”
Jeremy said nastily, “It would help if Kaoru would give me her
fucking address.”
“I’m not getting in the middle of this,” Arik told him. “But look
at it from his side – she evidently doesn’t want you to have it.”
Jeremy looked bleak. “I know,” he said. “And I swear I don’t
get that. I couldn’t have been that wrong about her. When we were
together, it was so-” He broke off, and thought it over. “So right,”
he finished. “And then she wakes up, and everything’s changed,
and she freaks out.”
Arik looked sympathetic. “It’s probably all the baggage that
scared her off.” He went on “You know, at that party? She didn’t
realize we were in Sex Gun. Kaoru said something like that,
anyway.”
Jeremy looked alert. “What, exactly?”
“I don’t know. Something she said, that she might have known
better if it hadn’t been for the haircut and long sleeved shirt you had
on.”
“You’re saying she didn’t know who I was until she saw me in
daylight with my clothes off?”
Arik said, “Sounds like it, doesn’t it? It’s not that surprising;
there are a lot of people who listen to music without staying glued to
MTV.”
“Yeah, well, she knows now, and I’ve got to figure out a way to
get past it,” said Jeremy grimly.
“You’ll have to find her, first,” Arik reminded him.
Jeremy grinned suddenly. “God bless Serenity,” he said. Arik
looked startled; religion wasn’t part of Jeremy’s usual makeup.
Jeremy added, “Serenity Hogan, research assistant at MTV, who I
am taking out to dinner the next time I’m in New York. She’s the
one who sent me this stuff, and she dug up an amazing amount of
information.” He rifled through the pile on the coffee table. “I
know where Zanna works, but since she’s on leave of absence, I
can’t reach her there. But from the looks of this,” he waved the
copy of the RockNet article, “her whereabouts are going to be public
knowledge very shortly. They’re going to be recording out here,
and playing some dates.”


51


Uneasily, Arik reminded him, “So are we.” He didn’t want his
lead singer getting any ideas about going AWOL before the tour.
“Yeah,” said Jeremy. “But if she’s out here, recording, playing
out, it means she’s on my turf, and I can find her.”
Arik said slowly, “Jeremy, has it occurred to you that you can’t
actually force the girl to take you into her life?”
Jeremy said, with some determination, “I can. I have to make her
see…” Noticing Arik’s slightly shocked expression, he said,
“What?”
“Well, christ, Jeremy! If she really doesn’t want anything to do
with you-”
“Then she has to tell me that, to my face.” There was an odd
expression on Jeremy’s normally saturnine countenance. He looked
almost lost, thought Arik.
Jeremy said, his voice subdued, “I’ve got to try. If she really
doesn’t…like me, because of who I am now, then okay. But if it’s
all that stupid shit from before that’s scared her off, then I have to
try and make her see that it’s not like that now.” He looked up at
Arik. “Don’t you get it? She’s like nothing I’ve ever known. I had
no idea what it’s like, to feel like this about someone.”
Arik said resignedly, “Okay. I’ll try and find out what studio
they’re using. It’ll look better if you don’t do it.”
Jeremy grinned at him. “Why I love you,” he said.


To: Jill
From: Arik

….well, you were right! Jeremy’s mystery girl has
reappeared, although not in person…you know who she is?
Watch MTV for a video of a band called Jump Cut doing
“Taste the Pain” they play it a lot. I kid you not, that’s her.
You want to maybe catch a movie this weekend?


52









Chapter 5



To: Zanna<[email protected]
From: Rachel<[email protected]
Re: good news!

That video MTV put out of “Taste the Pain” has got the single
climbing the charts, and the pressure is on to get a full CD
together. Have you thought about whether you’re going to do
it in your corner of the world or mine?
You’ll also have to make a video for whatever the second
single is going to be. They can usually be filmed in a few
days.
I know this is kind of a rush job, and I hope all the members
of Jump Cut are okay with that. You’ve definitely got the
material – now the key is to get a good producer. Should I
nose out who might be available out here? Another thought:
you could ask Jeremy Kane for a recommendation, since you
two seemed to hit it off. Sex Gun is one of the lucky ones,
who get to call their own shots (no pun intended) and he has a
lot of credibility and pull in the biz. It’s kind of funny, because
they’re such fuck-ups on a personal level, but they have a
really good reputation for professionalism. Go figure.


Rachel, yes LA, and please do scope out a producer. I’d
much rather have you arrange something, than talk to JK
about it. I wouldn’t exactly say we hit it off.
Oops. Does that mean I shouldn’t have told him you were


53


probably going to be out here soon? I ran into him on Sunset
Boulevard the other day.
Sorrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrryyyyyyyyyyyyyy…..

To: Rachel
From: Zan

I’ll tell you the whole story when I see you – but yes, avoiding
Jeremy Kane is kind of on my list of priorities.

To: Zanna
From: Rachel
Re: good news, and bad news

First, the good news – and it is good, Z, so concentrate on this
really hard, and maybe the bad part won’t seem so
bad…we’ve got Tom Scott for your CD!! He’s terrific. He’s
heard the demos and the live videotape, and is very
enthusiastic. This should make the project go smoothly and
expeditiously.
Okay, take the bad with it – Tom is also the producer for
several of Sex Gun’s albums. I suspect there may be a
connection between his availability and you-know-who.
Try to think of silver linings, etc, etc.
If it’s any consolation, I think Sex Gun is supposed to be
touring during some of the time you’ll be here.
So you wanna tell me what’s up between you and JK,
girlfriend?

Rachel, good work! I know we’re extremely lucky to get a
producer like TS, regardless of how it happened, so I’m trying
not to whine over the Sex Gun connection.
Don’t really want to talk about JK, it’s mortifying. I don’t
know why the somewhat sinister interest in Jump Cut, if that’s
what’s happening.


54



To: Zanna
From: Rachel
Re: GIVE!

Okay, now I’m REALLY CURIOUS!!! Because I just got off
the phone with none other than Jeremy Kane, who was oh-so-
charmingly trying to pry your whereabouts out of me. Don’t
panic, I was discreet. But obviously he had to talk to TS, or
somebody, to find out who I was. I’m not such a famous
entertainment attorney that he recognized me at that party.
For sure he’s been researching you.
So what’s the deal, Z? Have you picked up a celebrity
stalker? This is waaaaay interesting.
Too bad he’s such a psycho (or so they say) because I
gotta tell ya, he’s totally hot. I practically slithered out of my
office chair, just listening to that voice.

To : Rachel
From: Zanna
Re: Mistakes I have known

It’s the horrible truth, I slept with him. And I don’t want to talk
to him!! And he has my working notebook and won’t give it
back.

Wow, that bad?


Oh, god, Rachel, it’s more like that good. One of those things
that feels magical, transcendent, cosmic, blissed out from
here to Saturn. I don’t want to see him again, because I might
not be able to resist doing something stupid again, and he has
trouble written all over him in mile high letters, and I absolutely
do not need that in my life, and doesn’t he know that rock
stars like him are supposed to be stalkEES, and not stalkERS,
what nerve.



55


Ah, that explains something. There’s a story going around
that his last girlfriend is very bitter over their breakup – she
tossed a drink in his face when they ran into each other at
some restaurant – and is saying he’s a two timing so and so.
That’s down to you??

It was god awful. I encountered said girlfriend the morning
after, on my way out. Talk about your awkward moments.
Anyway, looking forward to seeing you next week.

Jump Cut Diary
August 3, 1999, St. Paul
Hey there, Jump Cut aficionados (and people who found this site by
accident) welcome to our next incarnation! That’s right, we’re no longer
just a bunch of people playing the local coffee bar for kicks, we are now
officially a BAND with a RECORD DEAL, on what is known as a MAJOR
LABEL! Zanna’s in California even as we speak (she’s not just one of our
singer/songwriter/guitar players, she’s also a lawyer) nailing down the
details.
Of course, no one’s actually quit their day job yet….
Anyway, for the occasion we’re adding this new feature to the website –
kind of an ongoing diary about what the band is up to. Look for regular
updates, as we continue to chronicle our new existence as a BAND…
Special thanks to MTV for deciding to put out the video of “Taste the
Pain” from the cover band competition, and to everyone who called or
emailed asking them to play it. We owe our new careers to you!
Later, David (aka The Drummer for you newbies)

August 5, 1999, St. Paul
Hi, this is Andy, stopping in quickly, during a practice break. We’re doing a
bunch of rehearsing before heading west, hoping that we can do this in
record time. Sorry about the pun, couldn’t resist.
We got some great news today…a studio wants to use “Love is a 4 letter
word” in a movie! So we’ll be on the soundtrack. They described it as a
“hip love story” which sounds like us, dontcha think? Anyway we get a free
video out of it, which is very cool because if you do them in the usual way
they can be pricey.
Next, we’re off to Seattle to play the New Band Showcase- one of those


56


two day affairs with something like 30 bands. Zan calls it Bands on the
Verge of a Nervous Breakthrough.
August 19, 1999
Well, we’re in Los Angeles, feeling semi overwhelmed but liking the palm
trees. We’re excited about getting into the studio and working with Tom
Scott, who is very bigtime.
Someone asked on the message board about our day jobs! I’m a
struggling artist (translate: I work in an art supply store to pay the rent,
paint and do sculpture as a calling, bang on drums to let off steam) Andy is
actually co-owner of a music store, and used to play in orchestras (!) Matt is
in that odd job phase of life (last employed behind the cappuccino machine
of our favorite Twin Cities coffee bar) and Zanna is an attorney, although
she doesn’t practice much any more, and has another fulltime law related
job which she prefers we not disclose, since she nourishes the fond hope
that no one she works with will find out just what it is she does in her off
time. We have pointed out that Jump Cut’s newfound success is likely to
blow her cover, but she seems to think her coworkers are a bunch of
dweebs who’ve never heard of alternative rock. Anyway, we’re all kind of
on a leave of absence now.
Later, dave

August 21
Met with Tom today, he’s a very cool guy, with a lot of knowhow. We
played a bunch of stuff for him, and he had a lot of suggestions. It’s funny
how you can get too close to your own material, and then someone else
listens, and is like, try this, and you’re thinking duh, why didn’t we see that
before – but I guess that’s what a producer is for. Anyway, we’re all
impressed with both tom and our engineer, whose name is Sammy.
LA seems very crowded and frantic, but this evening we went down to
the beach (me and Z) and walked for a while, and that was very peaceful
and beautiful. Tomorrow we talk to the movie people about putting together
a video for 4 letter word – you know the kind of thing, some of us, some
from the flick, but hey, it’s a freebie. Zanna already previewed the movie
(she wouldn’t let them use the song without seeing the movie first, she’s got
integrity, our Z) and says it’s okay. So go see it, and be sure and listen to
the music.
Bye, Matt


57



RockNet Newsline
On the alternative rock scene, new sensations Jump Cut are
heading into the studio to record their first full length CD.
They’re in the unusual position of already having two hit singles.
After “Taste the Pain” became one of MTV’s most requested
videos, the song was released as a single and rocketed up the
modern rock charts, reaching the no.4 slot. The Minneapolis
based group’s contribution to the “Take Me Please” soundtrack
also has broken onto the charts. “Love is a 4 Letter Word” is
currently at #10 on the Hot Entry list.
The CD is being recorded in Los Angeles, a decision which
reportedly has as much to do with lead singer Zanna Martin’s
predilection for surfing as with artistic considerations. Veteran
producer Tom Scott , who also works with Sex Gun, Maia
Stadick, and Bad Role Model, will be producing the Jump Cut
debut, whose working title is Taste This.
The album will have both ‘Taste the Pain’ and ‘Love is a 4
Letter Word’, but guitarist Matt Wilder says the rest will be a
mix. He told RockNet “We’ll do some songs that we’ve been
playing live, a few brand new ones, and maybe some of the old
covers.” The band plans on playing some Southern California
club dates while working on the album. Wilder says “It helps
keep us from getting too introverted, and driving each other
crazy.”


58









Chapter 6



Jeremy’s first attempt at making contact with Zanna was not a
success.
It started out promisingly enough. He had discovered the Jump
Cut website, which was both detailed and updated frequently, bless
their webmaster’s compulsive little soul. They were, according to
the site’s upcoming appearances section, scheduled to play a small
club in West Hollywood, during the week, which should have made
it a low key event.
But it wasn’t. KROQ, the most influential radio station in
alternative rock, appeared to have adopted Zanna and her pals
overnight. They had both “Taste” and the soundtrack cut “Love is a
4 Letter Word” in regular rotation, and had given out info on this
gig. The line was around the block.
Jeremy pulled up in front of the club on his motorcycle, and
flipped his sunglasses up in disbelief. What the hell? A bouncer
came over from the door and said, “You can’t park there.”
Jeremy said, “Are you sure,” and put down his kickstand. The
other guy on the door looked over, alert for trouble, and laughed.
“It’s okay, Dorf,” he called to his cohort. Jeremy swung off the bike
and said, “Thanks.” Ignoring both the glares and excited whispers
of those waiting in line, he said to the doorman, “Tickets are?”
“Sold out,” was the answer. “It’s okay, go on in.” Jeremy did.
The club was done in the post industrial style, with multi levels
for good sightlines and fire escape stairs zigzagging up to catwalks.
He debated his next step. Go backstage? Just an old friend
dropping in to say hello? It didn’t quite work, somehow. He went


59


up to the bar, and asked the bartender, a pert and pretty redhead, if
the band was doing more than one set.
She shook her head. “Are you kidding? We were lucky to get
them at all. The owner knows their manager, or something.” She
added, “You want a drink?”
He ordered a Corona, a holdover from surfing days, and said to
the bartender, “The lead singer’s an old friend of mine. I’d like to
see her before they go on.”
She said skeptically, “Sure, you and every other guy in the
place.”
Jeremy said coldly, “Where’s the manager?” The bartender
flipped her hair back, and picked up a phone. She spoke briefly, and
gave Jeremy an assessing look. “On his way,” she said.
The manager was a lanky, balding guy in his forties, who
recognized Jeremy immediately. He held out his hand, saying
“Mike Flaherty, how ya doin?”
Jeremy shook hands, and introduced himself anyway. Flaherty
said, “This is great, man, just great! What brings you down here?”
He added to the bartender, “Sex Gun, man, can you believe it?” She
didn’t seem impressed. Jeremy grinned at her.
“Tori Amos, right?” he said. She sniffed.
He said to the manager, “I know Jump Cut’s singer from way
back.” Okay, so that was a slight exaggeration, but it sounded better
than, I slept with her recently and she ran out on me. “I’d like to say
hello.”
“Oh sure, man, no problem. Come on back.” Flaherty led him
through a “staff only” door and into a labyrinth of storerooms and
offices. An older man in a suit stepped out of an office and said,
“Mike, call for you.”
“Aw hell, “ said Flaherty, and waved Jeremy towards a door at
the end of the corridor. “In there,” he said. Jeremy said, “Thanks,”
and Flaherty disappeared into the office.
The door gave no clue as to what lay beyond. Jeremy hoped he
wasn’t about to barge into a dressing room, since catching her
changing would be an awkward way to meet Zanna again. He gave
a warning rap with his knuckles, just in case, and opened it.
No one seemed to notice. It was a largish room, with a lot of
people hanging out. Some wore black leather, sported multiple


60


pierced body parts, and looked hot, tired, and wired. Warm up band,
thought Jeremy, just got done. There were a selection of very
decked out young women – he dismissed them as groupies. A guy
playing with drumsticks, who Jeremy thought might be Jump Cut’s
drummer. Drummers never got much video time, and anyway he
hadn’t paid much attention to the men. Then the guy glanced over
Jeremy’s way, and his eyes widened, and Jeremy was sure he was in
Zanna’s band.
Then Zanna herself came through a door on the far side. She was
dressed as she had been in the video, in an abbreviated t-shirt, low
slung combat fatigues, and black Converse All-Stars, with her
caramel colored hair pulled up into a ponytail. She looked right at
him, and -
Spun around and disappeared back through the door.
Fuck, thought Jeremy, this isn’t how it’s supposed to go. He
started towards the door, when one of the groupies recognized him,
and slid into his path.
“Excuse me,” he said. She had very pink hair and was dressed in
black vinyl and fishnets. She looked at him boldly and said, “I’ll do
anything. Anything at all.”
“Then get the fuck out of my way,” snarled Jeremy. She acted
like she hadn’t heard. “And I’ll let you do anything to me,” she
continued. Jeremy felt like smacking her, and not in the way she
had in mind. Instead he picked her up and dumped her in the laps of
the warm up band. He went to the drummer, who’d been watching
with interest.
Jeremy said, without ceremony, “I’d like to see Zanna.”
The drummer nodded, and said, “Yeah, well, that’s a bit of a
problem.” He looked back at the door. “She’s …well….I don’t
know how to say this. She seems to not want to see you.”
Jeremy studied the other man. He had his head almost shaved,
the way Daniel did, but he wore nerdy horn rim glasses that
contrasted with the multiple ear piercings and nipple and navel
rings. He wasn’t as built as the lead guitar, but had a look of sinewy
strength. He was smiling at Jeremy apologetically as he said, “I’m
really sorry about this,” but Jeremy was pretty sure that the drummer
wasn’t about to let him go after Zan unchallenged.
He was positive he could take the guy, but starting a fight with


61


one of her bandmates wasn’t likely to endear him any further with
Zanna. He looked up at the ceiling and said, “Motherfucker.” Then
he said to the drummer, “Do you know why she doesn’t want to see
me?”
“Not really,” the drummer said. “I’m sorry,” he added, again.
“But I kinda have to be on Zanna’s side here.”
“I guess,” said Jeremy gloomily. The drummer looked
sympathetic. “It might have something to do with that ‘Behind the
Music’ episode,” he offered. “We watched it again after she met
you. Z looked pretty freaked by the end.”
Jeremy swore. Then he said, “You know, they focus on all the
bad stuff because it’s more dramatic. It’s not – balanced, the way
they do those shows.”
The drummer said dryly, “Unfortunately, with you they had a lot
to work with.” Jeremy couldn’t, in all honesty, deny it. He said
bleakly, “That’s who I was. It’s not who I am now.”
The drummer nodded. “I’m not the one you have to convince,”
he said. “And Z’s a little paranoid about men, anyway.” He smiled
at Jeremy. “But hang in there. Give her time to get used to the
idea.”
Jeremy didn’t see how he could give her anything if he couldn’t
get near her. He said, “Okay. I’m going. You can tell her it’s safe
to come back.”
The drummer laughed. “Enjoy the show,” he said.

Jeremy would have, too, if it hadn’t been for the disappointment and
frustration of not being able to speak with Zanna. She was even
more alluring performing in person than she had been on video.
Jump Cut was doing more originals than they had for MTV, and
their songs were good.
Jeremy felt a sort of proprietary pride in their performance, as if
it was really his girl up there, her husky voice singing “Under the
Bridge,” with strength and soul. They finished and the lead player
asked the audience casually, “Any requests?” It was evident that
some of those present were familiar with Jump Cut’s MTV history,
because they were giving the names of RHCP songs.
Someone said “Aeroplane!” and Zanna said, “Seriously, that
album sucked,” which drew laughter. Someone else yelled “If I


62


Could,” and Zanna froze. She looked at the lead player, and shook
her head, but it was too late. Jeremy’s pal the drummer launched
straight into it. The bass player picked it up, and then the lead
player shrugged and started to play. Zanna looked – well, not
happy, anyway, thought Jeremy. Her eyes swept over the crowd,
but he knew she probably couldn’t see beyond the lights to where he
stood. Just in case, though, he raised his Corona bottle in a mocking
salute.
And he could have sworn she was looking right at him as she
started to sing.
It was weird, hearing his words from her mouth. Her eyes were
cast down, looking no further than the microphone in front of her.
When she got to the lines “Who can know a reason why/I loved you
in a dark night’s eye,” her voice was a little ragged. He wanted to
believe it was with emotion.
He wanted to believe she had.
She got to the end, almost whispered the last “if I could”. Then,
as the final notes died away, she tossed her head back, and said
clearly, “But enough of the junkie blues for one night,” and went
hard and fast into the intro to a Jump Cut original, Love is a 4 Letter
Word.

You take me down, you fuck me up, I can’t believe my stupid
luck
I’m so far down, that I can’t see, how I let you do this to me

Jeremy suddenly felt very tired. There didn’t seem to be any point
in hanging around until they were done. She didn’t want anything to
do with him. He made his way towards the exit, with Zanna’s voice
following him. “Abuse it, misuse it, totally confuse it-”
Confused is right, he thought wearily. She went on, “when you
get down to it, love is just a four letter word.”
As he walked out into the night, he caught one last verse:

Please me, tease me, get down on your knees for me
Move me, prove to me, it’s more than just a four letter word.

Oh, Zanna, he thought sadly. If you’d let me. If I could.


63



Jeremy went through several days of being in a completely rotten
mood after that, and had no idea of what to do next in his Zanna
campaign. He might have even given up, if it hadn’t been for the
coincidence of running into Jump Cut’s drummer a few days later.
They were, oddly enough, in the grocery store at the time. Arik
and Jeremy were bickering amiably like an old married couple over
1% vs. skim milk (“it’s like water,” insisted Arik) when someone
behind them said, “Hey. Hi. Gotta minute?” and Jeremy swung
around in surprise. “Hi,” he said. He started to introduce Arik,
realized he didn’t know the drummer’s name. He grinned, and said,
“This is Arik Jones. Arik, meet Zanna’s drummer.”
The guy laughed. “Aka David Weir,” he said. They shook
hands, and Jeremy said, “What’s up?”
The drummer, who Jeremy was rapidly concluding must have a
subversive streak, said, “Something I thought you might want to
know, after the other night.” Jeremy’s attention sharpened. David
went on “We all gave Zanna hell for that junkie remark. It wasn’t
like her, either. She’s not gratuitously cruel.”
Jeremy said neutrally, “It was true enough.”
“Maybe, but she didn’t need to say it. But that’s not my point.
What you might be interested in was her reaction.” He glanced at
Jeremy, and said, “She’s generally not the emotional type. Very
cool, very collected, our Z. But when Matt told her she shouldn’t
have done it, she was in tears and she practically yelled at him
‘Don’t you think I fucking know that!’ Which makes it three very
uncharacteristic responses in one go, because she doesn’t cry, she
doesn’t swear like that, and I have never heard her snap at him that
way.” He smiled at Jeremy and said, “I wouldn’t give up just yet, if
I was you.” He added, “Nice meeting you” to Arik, and ambled off
in the direction of frozen foods.
Arik said, “Nice guy,” and Jeremy nodded, preoccupied. Then he
looked at Arik and said, “Okay, if she didn’t care, she wouldn’t have
been upset, right?”

Jump Cut Diary
Dateline: Los Angeles
We spent a day filming some footage to be used in the “Love is a-” video.


64


Some of it will be from the movie, of course, but they wanted some shots of
us playing, and some “concept” stuff, said concept apparently involving
miserable lovers, because we had to walk around looking tortured, and
drape ourselves in various attitudes, in a very ritzy loft…it was just a set, but
it looked like an amazingly cool apartment, we definitely coveted it.
We also got introduced to the entertainment industry, Hollywood style.
The label sent a stylist and an “image coordinator” who had ideas of giving
us all, but especially Zanna, makeovers. Poor Z, they wanted to make her
into MTV Barbie! She tried saying thanks, but it’s just not me, but they
didn’t seem to think that mattered. Zanna finally told them any more lip and
she’d get a mohawk. They shut up then.

Jeremy was over at Johnny’s house, waiting for the drummer to
finish getting ready to go surfing, when he saw the listing for the
Shell Club in the local paper. Jump Cut was the headliner that night.
How had he missed that one, he thought. He knew Johnny already
had plans, so he called up Arik. “Hey, you want to catch Jump
Cut’s gig tonight,” he asked peremptorily.
“Uh, I was already planning on it,” said Arik. “Kaoru called
me…” He paused, so obviously debating the wisdom of inviting
Jeremy to join them that Jeremy took pity on him and said, “Oh,
well, we’ll see you there, then.”
Arik said relievedly, “Great, yeah, see you.”
Jeremy hung up and dialed Daniel, who sounded distracted when
he answered. Jeremy could hear what sounded like a practice tape
playing in the background, and deduced that Daniel was working
over some of the new stuff.
“We’re going to the Shell Club to hear Jump Cut tonight,” he
said.
“We are?” said Daniel vaguely. Jeremy could hear him fingering
chords.
“Yeah, try and focus for a minute. I’ll pick you up at ten.”
“I understand why you’re going, but why am I?” asked Daniel
plaintively. “I’d kind of like to stay home and work on this…” his
voice trailed off and the guitar plinked some more.
“You’re going as protective coloring for me,” said Jeremy firmly.
“This way we can look like we’re just musicians checking out the
local scene. Casual. Very nonthreatening. Basically,” he added,


65


“I’m aiming to come across here as something other than a sex-
crazed stalker.”
“Oh. You kind of are, though, aren’t you? I mean, tracking her
down like this, watching that stupid video about a hundred times-”
“Oh, shut up,” said Jeremy. “Ten o’clock,” he added sternly
before ringing off.

Being big time rock stars occasionally had its use. They got into the
sold out Shell Club, and backstage with no problems, only to find
that for a new band, Jump Cut was already attracting its share of
wellwishers, groupies and hangers-on. It was distinctly crowded,
and they didn’t even see Zanna.
The bass player was talking to Tom Scott, who had Maia Stadick
with him. The drummer was obligingly showing his tattooed back
(tire tracks) to the local music press, and the lead guitar was
autographing CDs for some starry eyed girls. Jeremy finally spotted
Zan way across the room, laughing as she talked to, of all people,
Arik and Kaoru Rhodes.
“This place is packed,” said Daniel. “Are you sure this is a good
idea? She looks kind of busy.”
“She does,” agreed Jeremy, rather grimly, and started to shoulder
his way through the crowd, with Daniel trailing reluctantly behind
him.
They didn’t get far. The lead player glanced up, saw Jeremy, and
stepped neatly into his path. Regarding him steadily, he said, “Hi.
We haven’t met yet, but I’m Matt Wilder,” and offered his hand.
Jeremy shook. “Jeremy Kane. Hi,” and tried to look past him for
Zanna.
“Yeah, I know who you are,” said Matt, “and someday you’ll
thank me for this.”
Taken aback, Jeremy looked at him. Matt went on “Trust me,
now is not a good time to talk to her. Let’s find some place more
quiet and you can talk to me instead.” He steered Jeremy backwards
in the direction of the exit. Daniel resignedly leaned against the
nearest wall.
“Why would I want to do that?” said Jeremy, not very nicely.
Matt gave him a level look, half-amused. “Because I am about to
keep you from continuing to be a ‘horrible mistake,’” he said.


66


Jeremy was startled. “Fuck, does she describe me that way to
everyone?” he said, stung.
Matt was grinning. “Nah. She just said it to Kaoru Rhodes, and
he describes you that way to everyone,” he said. “You asked for it,
you know. Your pursuit of Z hasn’t exactly been discreet.”
They went down the back hallway, and out the exit door to the
alley. There was, oddly, a park bench there, and they sat down.
Matt looked around. “Places like this always make me want a
cigarette.”
“Sorry, can’t help. I quit years ago,” said Jeremy shortly. Matt
glanced sideways. “That’s good,” he said. “Me, too. Because
Zanna’s very anti substance. Now if you can stay off the smack,” he
went on tranquilly, “maybe you’ll have a chance.”
Jeremy stiffened, and suppressed an urge to punch out this cocky
little bastard. “You want to get to the point,” he said coldly. Matt
looked sympathetic. “I know,” he said. “You want to kill me. I can
understand that; I want to kill Nick Tzezna, even though I kind of
like the guy.”
“Nick Tzezna? What’s he got to do with this?”
Matt said dryly, “Well, he seems to be the current frontrunner in
the Zanna Martin sweepstakes. And by the way, don’t waste your
time hating me, I’m not even in the running. Her choice,” he added,
“not mine.”
Jeremy could not believe this. “Nick Tzezna is fucking
married!”
“Separated, I guess. Anyway, that’s why he’s got the edge. It
makes him safe for her.”
“What?”
“Yeah, I know it’s weird. But it’s like a built in speed limit. If he’s
married, it only goes so far.”
“That’s twisted!” Jeremy said vehemently. He did not want Nick
Tzezna for competition. Nick Tzezna was the frontman for the
spectacularly successful Technical Difficulties. He was smart,
charming, and really, really good-looking.
“Yeah, well, Z’s not the most normal girl around, you know?”
Matt glanced at him. “Okay, you probably don’t,” he conceded.
“Let’s just say she’s got real commitment issues. Look, before I get
into this any further, I need to know what it is you think you’re after


67


here. With her.”
Jeremy just looked at him. “What are you, her fucking
guardian?”
Sharply, Matt rejoined, “I’m someone who loves her and does not
want to see her hurt. She’s probably the best friend I’ll ever have,
and I would do anything in my power to protect her.”
Jeremy felt like an asshole. “I apologize,” he said quietly. “And
I just want to know her better, okay?” He paused. “You care about
her a lot, don’t you?”
Matt sighed. “Oh yeah. More than anyone I’ve ever known.”
He hesitated. “It’s kind of complicated. I was mostly a fucked up
stupid kid when I met her, but she always treated me like a real
person, who counted for something, not just the guy who shoved her
cappuccino across the bar. She saw me, and she thought I was worth
something, even though I wasn’t too sure about that. She’s probably
why I haven’t turned out like you,” he added thoughtfully.
“Well, christ, thanks a lot!” Jeremy snapped.
Matt grinned. “You know what I mean,” he said. “I easily could
have got caught up in drugs and kept getting in fights, and shit like
that, but I met her, and I didn’t.” He shrugged. “I taught her how to
play guitar, and she taught me how to live. I fell madly in love with
her, and she made it clear that it could only go so far. So she’s my
best friend, my role model for being a functional adult, and the lover
I can’t have, all at once.” His mouth twisted. “ I know all about
wanting Zanna Martin and not getting her.”
“Why would you help me?” Jeremy was genuinely curious.
Matt considered it. “Since I’ve known her, she’s had this attitude
that relationships are hopeless, and something she won’t even
consider. As far as I can tell, she’s been on this weird celibacy kick
for several years now. It’s such a waste. I mean, here’s this
beautiful, sensual, passionate woman and she’s not doing anything
with it. What kind of life is that?” He shook his head, his ponytail
switching emphatically. “She’s mostly just indifferent to men as
men – I mean, she’s perfectly friendly, but we might as well be
lemmings, for all she’d notice. But you obviously got through to
her, in more ways than one.” He shrugged. “Ever since she met
you, she’s been very weirded out. I’d like to see her resolve that,
one way or another. If it’s going to be you, okay. And if it isn’t, I


68


want her to know that.”
Jeremy said dryly, “Okay, help me out here. She refers to me as
a ‘horrible mistake,’ she won’t call me even to get her notebook
back, and you think she likes me?”
“Nah. It’s not a case of liking you right now. You scare her to
death. And the only reason I can see for that is that she’s afraid
you’re someone she could care about.”
Jeremy thought it over. “That’s still twisted.”
Matt disagreed. “No, this part makes sense,” he said. “Try and
look at it objectively, and remember this is a smart woman you’re
dealing with, who’s old enough to cut up her own food. I don’t
mean to be insulting, but the fact is, you look like the nightmare
boyfriend from hell. I mean, do you read your own press?”
“I try not to,” said Jeremy grimly.
“Well, we did, and let me tell you, it’s not pretty. Doing drugs
and doing time figure prominently. And going by ‘Behind the
Music’ I sure as hell wouldn’t want to see any woman I liked dating
a member of Sex Gun.”
Jeremy said slowly, “I can say until I’m blue in the face that I am
not that person now, or at least that is not the place I’m in, but-”
“But they always do say that,” interrupted Matt. “Baby, this time
will be different, blah, blah, blah. Yeah, there’s no point in it. She’s
heard that you’ve been clean for a few years, and she’s heard you’ve
done that before and started using again. She knows you
periodically go to jail. She knows your reputation with women –
well, more like girls, I suppose.” He grinned at Jeremy, who was
looking ominous, and said, “Keep in mind that while you can
probably beat the crap out of me, it would absolutely finish your
chances with Zan.”
“You know, you’re a real ray of sunshine,” said Jeremy
caustically. “Apart from why she ought to stay the hell away from
me, which I think we’ve covered thoroughly, do you have anything
helpful to add here?”
Matt smiled. “You’re holding a major ace, and you’re too close
to see it. It’s the music, stupid.”
Since Jeremy recognized the misquoted line, he wasn’t offended.
He reflected for a moment.
Matt went on “That’s your ‘in’ with Z. That’s what you’ve got


69


that no one else can touch, and that’s what you’ve got that she really
does want. She wants to work with you, although she’s not quite
ready to admit it.”
“She’s got a funny way of showing it.”
“Yeah, you make her nervous. You need to tone it down. But
listen, she’s said almost nothing about what went on between you on
a – well, personal level, but-”
“Except that I was a horrible mistake,” put in Jeremy. That still
rankled.
Matt ignored him. “But what she did talk about was that the two
of you were playing around with a song, that that was how she met
you in the first place.”
“Yeah. She said the bridge was too long, ” recalled Jeremy with
a slight smile. “And we started talking and messing around with a
guitar.” He looked rueful. “And it was good, and I haven’t been
able to do a goddamn thing with it since.”
“Yeah, she regretted not getting a chance to finish it, too,” said
Matt. “And she went on and on about how phenomenally talented –
those are her words- a songwriter you are, and how working with
you on that song was like a transcendent experience.”
“It was. Like discovering you’ve been missing part of yourself
all along, without knowing it, because that part was inside this other
person. And all of a sudden, things that were a struggle are coming
easy because now you’re whole.” Jeremy looked thoughtful. “So I
just ask her nicely to play with me?”
“I don’t know,” retorted Matt impatiently. “I can’t think of
everything; you work out the details. The idea is, get into her life
without scaring her off. Give yourselves a chance to get acquainted
first, this time.”
Jeremy remarked, “It doesn’t seem to have worked for you.”
It was Matt’s turn to look annoyed. “That’s because she has a
major hang-up about our ages,” he said. “She thinks she’d be
screwing up my life if we got involved romantically, or something
stupid like that. It sucks.”
Jeremy grinned, not unsympathetically. “At least that’s one thing
I won’t have to worry about,” he said. “I can’t imagine anyone
thinking she could screw up my life.”
“Yeah, ironic, isn’t it? You actually get rewarded here, for being


70


a fuck-up. And I’m out of the running because she thinks that
basically I’m a nice kid.”
Jeremy remembered something. “And at what point do we get
rid of Nick Tzezna? I still cannot fucking believe that,” he added
bitterly. “How did that happen, anyway?”
“She met him at the beach. Ran into him, literally. He stepped
backwards off the sidewalk without looking, and crashed into her.”
“How romantic,” said Jeremy sourly.
“Yeah. And he felt bad about knocking her down, so he asked
her out to dinner.”
“Christ. You think it’s serious?”
Matt said thoughtfully, “I think she likes him a lot, and she’s
enjoying the attention. And I’d say he’s fairly entranced by her.”
Jeremy said dryly, “Did she sleep with him? Because if so, I
guarantee he’s in love with her.”
Matt shrugged. “Don’t know. But before you, she’d been on her
stupid chastity kick for about two years, and I would think a person
might need to make up for the lost time.”
Jeremy ground his teeth. Matt added, “But it won’t last. I’d put
money on that.”
“Yeah, well, I hope you’re right on that one, because between me
and Nick Tzezna, I’m definitely the loser on points.”
Matt said cheerfully, “ Oh, what’s to worry about? So he’s a
great guy, talented, nice, incredibly good-looking – he’s also with
her because she thinks it can’t get serious, since he’s married.” He
added, “You’re just going to have to deal with the fact that for now,
it’s not your lookout. You’re not in a position to do anything about
other men in her life. And by the way,” he was smiling but dead
serious, “I’ll cut you out in a New York minute if I ever get the
chance.”

In her dressing room backstage at the club, Zanna showered quickly
and changed into “civvies:” a tie-dyed red velvet t-shirt with
matching long, straight skirt. She abandoned her usual boots in
favor of heels – hey, she sort of had a date, after all. The thought
gave her a little internal flutter – she wasn’t used to this guy thing –
along with a warm feeling, because she genuinely liked Nick. Well,
what’s not to like, she thought, looking in the mirror and putting on


71


lipstick. He’s funny, talented, down to earth, extremely nice and
drop dead gorgeous.
She was aware of being perversely glad that he was also married.
She knew that made her a sicko, but at the moment she refused to
worry about it. She had enough on her mind, including how far she
was willing for this to go. Zanna thought she might turn into a
mindless puddle of hormones if he kissed her again like he did on
the beach that night, and she couldn’t decide if that was good or bad.
It was all rather confusing: first Jeremy Kane, now this thing with
Nick. What the hell was happening to her, anyway?
She grabbed her motorcycle jacket and swung out of the dressing
room – and almost crashed into Jeremy Kane in the near deserted
corridor. She caught her breath sharply, and reeled backwards,
which was a mistake because he promptly followed her so that she
was literally with her back against the wall. Standing too close to
her, so that she either had to look at his collarbone, or raise her face
to his in a way that felt much too vulnerable, he said with an ironic
smile, “So. We meet again.”
She sneaked a look at him, and had a weird sense of unreality. In
one sense, he seemed like a stranger, someone you knew from
watching music videos. Yet she also remembered his face so
intimately close to hers that night, their bodies warm and naked
together. He was both too familiar, and too much of an unknown
quantity, and the air was rife with the undeniable tension between
them. She felt disoriented. And he was much too close, she could
feel the heat from his body and she couldn’t think of anything to say
or do.
What she did come up with, was “I want my notebook back. You
have absolutely no right to keep it.”
He laughed shortly. “If you want to talk about rights,
Zanna…you want to tell me what right a girl has, to start something
she apparently has no intention of finishing?”
She stared silently at his chest, broad and hard in a tight black t-
shirt. He put his hands on the wall on either side of her, his arms
blocking her in, and leaned closer to her. She wouldn’t meet his
eyes. She was frozen, barely able to breathe. His face inches from
hers, his voice soft and even, he said, “You want to tell me what that
was all about, Zanna? You want to explain how you can start a song


72


and not want to finish it? You want to tell me how you can make
love to me and then act like it never happened? Because I’m not
buying this line that it meant nothing to you.”
Something twisted inside her. A door slammed at the far end of
the hall, and turning her head to look past Jeremy, she saw Nick and
Andy coming towards them. For a moment, crazily, she wasn’t sure
if she felt disappointment or relief. She met Jeremy’s eyes then,
knowing she had won a reprieve, and raised her eyebrows. “Excuse
me,” she said coolly.
His arms dropped to his sides, and he took a step backward, his
dark eyes still intent on her, lips tightly compressed.
Nick and Andy reached them. Andy looked wary, and Nick
slightly puzzled. “Everything okay, Z?” he said.
“Fine,” she replied, her eyes still locked with Jeremy’s. “We’re
done here.” His mouth twitched, then, ignoring their companions,
he leaned forward and grasped the back of her neck. Pulling her
head close to his, he whispered, “But only for now, Zanna.”
Surprisingly, he kissed her lightly on the cheek, released her,
straightened and moved away, acknowledging Nick and Andy’s
presence with a nod. He said to Zanna “Next time,” turned and
walked away, moving with characteristic lithe, athletic grace.
Zan let out her breath, and turned resolutely to Nick, taking his
arm. “Hi,” she said. “Let’s go.”
Nick squeezed her arm against his side in a friendly manner, but
asked, “What was that about?” with some concern.
“Nothing,” she said firmly.
Nick said, “I don’t know him personally, but be careful there,
Zanna. Sex Gun’s a wild crew, and he’s probably the worst of the
bunch.” Something in her expression made him add cheerfully,
“Not that it’s any of my business.”
“It was nothing,” she repeated, but Andy, for one, thought she
sounded like she was trying to convince herself.


73









Chapter 7



Jump Cut Diary
Dateline: Los Angeles
Got the cover art for the CD today, and it turned out very nicely. We think
we appear tough, yet sensitive and Zanna looks like one of your darker
fantasies. We were somewhat relieved to get it, because we had a bit of a
contretemps with the record company, who persist in wanting to redesign
us. (This time, they were envisioning retro sixties, sort of Jefferson Airplane
meets Austin Powers). We keep trying to explain there’s a reason why
something called “alternative” exists on the music scene, but they don’t
seem to have caught on. Z says you have to talk to them real slow, in
words of two syllables or less. Matt says it’s a good thing that f**k off is only
two syllables….

Jump Cut had worked their way around the west coast, playing
mostly clubs, but with a few multi-band events thrown in. They
were getting a little worn out, and when a date in Sacramento got
cancelled due to a fire damaging the venue several days earlier, they
were all grateful for the extra day it gave them in San Francisco.
They had a week on the road left before getting back to Los
Angeles, and Zanna decided that finding a laundromat and a
bookstore were her top priorities. The guys had other plans,
however. On the bus en route to the home of the Grateful Dead,
Alcatraz and Third Eye Blind, Zan inadvertently stopped the
conversation when she walked up to the front where David and
Spike, their tour manager, were conferring.
They looked oddly guilty, she thought, and said sternly to them,
“What?”


74


Spike, a lean, craggy faced man somewhere in his thirties, said in
a careful tone, “Sex Gun’s playing the Cow Palace tonight.”
Everyone knew Zanna was somewhat touchy about her acquaintance
with Jeremy Kane. The entire crew had heard the story of how
they’d met, and knew he was still after her. Opinion was divided as
to his chances. Zanna was very popular among the crew, and the
majority view was that Jeremy Kane was too dangerous for their
girl. But while Nick Tzezna was well liked, married men weren’t a
good idea, either. Most of them would have backed Matt, except for
the fact that interband relationships could be messy and lead to
premature breakup (in which case they were all out of jobs).
Marisa, the merchandise manager, gave it as her opinion that Kaoru
Rhodes really would have been the best choice, but unfortunately he
and Zanna seemed to be stuck in the ‘just friends’ mode.
Zanna, innocently unaware that her putative love life was a major
source of entertainment for the crew, said, “So?”
“We’re thinking of going,” said David, eyeing her warily. She
laughed, and said, “What, you’re afraid I’ll accuse you of consorting
with the enemy?”
They grinned, somewhat abashed, and Spike said, “We did
wonder if it would strike you as disloyal.”
“Idiots,” she said affectionately. She sat down and said
thoughtfully, “Actually, I’d even like to see them. I never have,
live.”
“No kidding?” Spike was amazed. “They’re one of the best, Z,
you really have been missing something.”
She was sorely tempted. After going through a phase of trying to
put Jeremy Kane out of her mind, she’d given that up as hopeless,
succumbed to curiosity and bought Sex Gun’s CDs. They had
considerable impact. It wasn’t just that as a songwriter and
performer herself, she could appreciate their craft. Their music also
made her feel an immediate connection. Both lyrics and beat,
Jeremy’s words and Daniel da Silva’s guitar, the rhythm sustained
by Arik and the drummer, Johnny Deal, all of it got to her in a way
that resonated in her brain and in her blood.
This had put her in the distinctly weird position of becoming
almost a fan of the man she had ill advisedly fallen into bed with,
and had been assiduously avoiding ever since. She had found


75


herself, one sleepless night, browsing the Internet at 3am and
looking over Sex Gun web pages, of which there were a staggering
number. She felt a kind of guilty embarrassment at doing this – it
seemed like a stupid activity for a grown woman – but it was
perversely compelling stuff. Click, click, click and you could read
articles about the band going back at least ten years, see hundreds of
pictures, watch video clips, hear interviews…it had the effect of
making her night with Jeremy seem rather unreal. It was so
unlikely, that she had, well, had sex (and searingly hot, wickedly
passionate, unrestrained, wild, wanton, abandoned sex at that) with
this guy, Sex Gun’s dark and dangerous singer, who evidently a lot
of women lusted after (judging from the bulletin boards) that it was
almost as though it had happened to another Zanna, somewhere off
in a parallel universe. She hadn’t seen or heard anything from
Jeremy since he had shown up at the Shell Club, quite possibly he’d
lost interest…
David, seeing that she was torn between wanting to go, and
being cautious, urged, “Come with us, Z. Live dangerously,” and
Spike added, “It’s not like you’re going to just run into him. Those
guys are very well insulated from too much contact with the hoi
polloi, they aren’t likely to be wandering around the arena.”
No big deal, she thought, it’s just a concert… “I’m in,” she said.

Spike knew someone connected with Sex Gun, and got them
backstage passes. Zanna had no intention of hanging out there, but
she did go around with Matt, as the opening band finished, to say
hello. The Mutant Love Slaves had played one of the multi band
gigs with Jump Cut, and she and Matt had hung out with them for a
while. They both enjoyed the English band’s deadbeat brand of
humor. Zanna figured that the set change would take a while, and
big time names like Sex Gun usually went into seclusion until they
came on.
She didn’t notice that the stage was already pretty much set up,
in back of where MLS had played. In fact, all the crew had to do
was haul off MLS’s stuff…

Jeremy stopped dead in his tracks, causing a Sex Gun pile up behind
him. He couldn’t believe it, but there in front of him, near the steps


76


leading to the stage, talking to the English kids from the opening act,
was Zanna Martin, along with Matt Wilder.
Arik, having crashed unceremoniously into Jeremy, followed his
gaze and said “fuck” under his breath. Johnny heard that, also
looked, and said firmly, “Not now, Jeremy. We need to get
onstage.”
Jeremy brushed him aside. “Now’s all I’ve got,” he said tersely,
and headed for Zanna. He came up behind her, and said “Get lost,”
rudely to the Brits, who stared. Zanna spun around, and Jeremy
registered with a part of his brain that she looked wonderful, in an
outfit of black lace and pale yellow velvet. She also didn’t look
particularly happy to see him. He caught her by the arm,
remembering all too well how quickly she could disappear. Matt
was just watching, his expression neutral.
Jeremy said with mock politeness, “A word with you, please,
Zanna,” and pulled her aside. Her chin took on a defiant tilt, and he
felt her arm flex under his hand.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” she snapped, exasperated.
“Where do you get off-”
Jeremy knew he was about to really piss her off, but her nearness
was intoxicating, he was by now thoroughly frustrated, and she
didn’t seem to be the least bit intimidated by him. Her eyes met his
squarely and her look was openly challenging. He put his hands
around her narrow waist, and lifted her easily onto the speaker
cabinet behind her. Taking advantage of her surprise at this
unexpected maneuver, he shoved her knee aside, her short skirt
hiking up even higher, and moved between her legs. One arm
around her waist, he pulled her tightly up against him, wound his
other hand in her hair, and kissed her.
And for a few glorious, dizzying seconds, he felt her lips give
way, her tongue in his mouth. Felt her body arch against him, her
legs press against his hips.
Then she pushed him away, and dealt him a stinging slap. Her
hand cracked hard against his cheek, and in a low, furious voice, she
repeated, “What the hell is wrong with you!”
He said, “You really want to know, Z? Because I’m dying to tell
you. You and I need to talk.”
Something in her face changed, from angry to closed. He


77


recognized it, and couldn’t stand it. He said roughly “God damn it,
Zanna, would you listen to me? It’s not just your pretty ass I’m
after.” She recoiled, but he went on, his voice low and urgent, “If
you weren’t so fucking stubborn, you’d give us a chance. You
know as well as I do that together we can write music we’re never
going to find otherwise. We should try to work with each other, and
it’s killing me that you won’t see that.”
For just a moment, he thought he saw something in her eyes
respond, but she said nothing.
And then Arik was next to him, saying sharply “Jeremy, back
off!” His voice lowered, he went on “Are you nuts? There are
several hundred people who can see you from the side sections, and
you are way out of line.” He turned to Zanna, and said, “Look, I’m
sorry. You okay?”
She ignored him. She slid off the cabinet, the movement
bringing her up against Jeremy. She looked him full in the face, and
said very evenly “The next time you come near me, it had better be
because you’re returning my property.”
Arik put a hand to Jeremy’s shoulder and shoved him bodily out
of the way, letting Zanna move past them. The rest of Sex Gun
gathered around. Daniel murmured, “Jesus Christ, Jeremy,” and
Johnny remarked, “You know, I think your technique needs
polishing.”
Matt stopped by them, briefly. Catching Jeremy’s eye, he shook
his head. “I don’t think that was such a great idea,” he commented
mildly.
But Jeremy still had that feeling of elation engendered by her
response, however brief it had been. “She kissed me back,” he said
softly.
“She also belted you hard enough to leave a handprint on your
face,” said Johnny skeptically.
“She didn’t say she never wanted to see me again,” continued
Jeremy. He was starting to smile.
Matt reached out and almost affectionately patted Jeremy’s
shoulder. “You have got it bad,” he said, and went off to find
Zanna.
And Jeremy, with a noticeable red mark across one angular
cheekbone, but feeling curiously lighthearted, bounded up the stairs


78


and onto the stage, to the roar of 13,000 waiting fans.

:iill Nulcd ÀIicr Àll Jhc:c Ycur:
:oundlinc
Lc:: un_onc ihinl ihc on:ci oI nuiurii_ und :ohrici_
hu: iurncd :cx Cun :iuid, ihc hund ihrcv u Ilu:hhucl
Iron ihcir curl_ _cur: inio ihcir :ci :uiurdu_ ni_hi. Jhc
:iu_c vcni conµlcicl_ durl uIicr u ruucou: vcr:ion oI
¨ Conc lurd.¨ Jhcn ihc li_hi: cunc hucl uµ, io
rcvcul·
1ocl:iruµ:.
Jhui' : ri_hi. Jhc vcicrun ulicrnuiivc roclcr:
:iriµµcd dovn io µlu_ ¨ Coldcn Cirl¨ io u dcliriou:l_
uµµrcciuiivc crovd. ¨ li' : u :on_ uhoui u _irl on ihc
hcuch,¨ :uid voculi:i 1crcn_ lunc. ¨ Whui hciicr iinc
io iulc oII _our cloihc:.¨ Jhc_ Iollovcd ii uµ,
uµµroµriuicl_ cnou_h, viih ¨ Lod_ Lun_uu_c.¨
li' : hccn u lon_ iinc :incc ihc hund hud µullcd ihui
µuriiculur :iuni. Wh_ nov' 1crcn_ luu_h:. ¨ l vi:h l
could :u_ ihui ii vu: :onc lind oI :iuicncni, hui _ou
lnov, no:il_ ii vu: hccuu:c ihui urcnu vu: rcull_
ovcrhcuicd. Ànd ihui' : uciuull_ hov ihc vholc ihin_
:iuricd in ihc Iir:i µlucc. Jhc |ocl:iruµ :ccnc dchuicd
ui un ouidoor conccri in Àu:iin, Jcxu:, und ii vu: :o
I··lin_ hoi on:iu_c ihui l |u:i lcµi iulin_ ihin_: oII. Lui
_ou could icll ihc uudicncc vu: lind oI inio ii, :o ui our
ncxi _i_, vc ull did ii.¨
Jinc doc: nulc u diIIcrcncc, udniiicd Àril 1onc:.
¨ l ncvcr ihou_hi ivicc uhoui ii in ihc old du_:,¨ :uid
ihc :cx Cun hu:: µlu_cr. ¨ Julc oII _our µuni:, :urc,
vh_ noi. Lui ii' : onc ihin_ io :iriµ vhcn _ou' rc Y5.
Ài .7, l' n lilc, oh nun, l don' i lnov uhoui ihi:! ¨
lc nccd noi huvc vorricd :cx Cun coniinuc: io
nuiniuin ihcir :urI|ocl inu_c cvcn u: ihc_ hcud iovurd:


79


ihc hi_ Iour oh. Àlvu_: un uihlciic crcv, ihc_ cun :iill
ouinu:clc no:i rocl hund:, und ihcrc' : noi u _ui io hc
:ccn.
lunicl du :ilvu, ihou_h, vu: :oncihin_ oI u cu:uuli_.
¨ l didn' i hoihcr io µui n_ :hoc: hucl on, und l _oi u
:µlinicr in n_ Iooi u: vc vcrc _oin_ oII ihc :iu_c. Jhc
cncorc huri lilc hcll io µlu_.¨
lrunncr 1ohnn_ lcul hud ihi: io :u_· ¨ l lovc :un
lrunci:co. You cun do un_ihin_ hcrc. No onc curc:.¨

Jump Cut Diary
Dateline: San Francisco
Hard to believe, we’re actually playing the Fillmore! (okay, so we’re just the
opening act, but still…) We spent like an hour looking at the posters that
paper their walls; it’s fascinating rock history.
SF is a great city, very cosmopolitan but still manageable. For lunch
today we had Dim Sum in Chinatown. They’re like Chinese appetizers or
snacks, but you make a whole meal out of them. These ladies come
around with carts, and you point to what you want. Andy swears we had
squid dumplings. David and Matt wanted to go out to Alcatraz, but it turns
out you have to get tickets way in advance. Rode the ferry to Sausalito
instead. Zanna got up at some insane hour and went surfing with a friend
from law school – she said it was cool, in more ways than one. Several of
us caught Sex Gun’s concert last night – they’re the quintessential post
punk rockers, what a show! And you gotta like the kind of confidence they
got – we asked Z what she’d do if the rest of us decided to strip onstage
(like, would she be with the program, or what) and she said:

Laugh.

On that note, warm regards,
jc



80









Chapter 8



Jump Cut and Sex Gun were often playing the same cities within
days of each other, although not the same venues. Jump Cut was in
clubs and occasionally a small theater, while Sex Gun had a steady
diet of stadiums and arenas. Matt, for one, had been struck by the
differences in San Francisco. Sex Gun had a lot more equipment,
for one thing – there were at least a dozen guitars racked off stage
for that show- and a corresponding mess of people to deal with it,
plus an entourage – press people, personal assistants, who knew
what all they did?
In Jump Cut’s world, though, everyone doubled up on jobs. The
merchandise manager also did publicity and tour materials for the
website, the stage manager was also the lighting tech, etc. Matt had
three guitars, Zanna had two, and they looked after them,
themselves. They had a truck for equipment, and a single bus for
people, and the crew pretty much took turns driving. They stayed at
budget motels, when they didn’t just sleep on the bus. A nice
custom had developed along the way, though – people brought them
food. It had started when they played San Diego, where Marisa the
merchandise manager’s mother resided. Convinced that they all
lived on Big Macs when they were on the road, she had brought
pies. Peach, and apple, and coconut cream. They were a huge hit,
and there was much in the way of appreciative thanks on the web
page’s tour diary for the next few days. Then in Monterey, Tank the
roadie’s relatives brought brownies and seven layer bars, and after
that, whenever they played a location with friends and relatives
nearby, baked goods always seemed in the offing. The band loved
it. When they played San Jose, Spike’s grandma even gave the


81


whole band and crew a lasagna dinner. It was not only nice to have
home cooked food; the concern behind it was heartwarming. It
reminded Zanna of the small Midwestern towns where some of her
relatives lived, places with church bake sales and Rotary Club
pancake breakfasts. Food as comfort and society. Bands like Sex
Gun might never have to stay at Motel 6, but they probably didn’t
get this kind of homey nurturing either. Jump Cut was getting a
very grass roots look at the West Coast.

Meanwhile, Sex Gun themselves were generally enjoying the
continuing momentum that “After the Hurricane” was generating.
“Troubles of My Own” was still high on the singles charts, even
while the title song was no. 1 on the hot entry list. The video for
Hurricane was one of the most requested on both MTV and
RockNet. Arik, glancing over the latest issue of Billboard, noticed
something else.
“Your girlfriend’s got another single out,” he told Jeremy. They
were on the bus, en route to Tacoma, Washington at the time.
Jeremy glanced up from the book he was reading. “Zanna?”
“Yes, Zanna, who else would it be?” Arik retorted. “Soundtrack
cut, ‘Love is a 4 letter word.’”
Jeremy snorted. “That’s her, all right,” he said. He hadn’t been
able to figure out any way to make contact with her again. So far,
their schedules hadn’t coincided, tourwise, and he had been unable
to wheedle her LA address out of that lawyer, Rachel
Whatshername. It was all very frustrating, but Jeremy was
displaying a kind of stubborn determination that came as a surprise
to his bandmates. He regularly borrowed Arik’s laptop to keep track
of developments at Jump Cut’s website, and he read their tour diary
with as much attention as the most avid fan. He was also noticeably
uninterested in other women. Unfortunately, thought Arik, you
couldn’t really say that falling in love had improved Jeremy’s
overall disposition. Always moody, the singer had initially been up
after his last meeting with Zanna, but had since become rather surly.
Jeremy had a feeling that the seed of the idea he’d planted, about
collaborating musically together, might have taken root, but how
could he tell if he couldn’t even talk to her? He would have sworn
that she had been struck by that comment (after she had struck him)


82


and he badly wanted to follow up on it.
Arik tried to console Jeremy. “A few more days, and we’re back
in LA. With a CD coming out, she’s bound to be visible.”
“Yeah, I guess.” His tone was disconsolate.
“They’ve got more pictures up on their website,” offered Arik.
“What are you, fucking Pollyanna?” But Jeremy was grinning.
“I’m getting to like the Internet. Stalking made easy. Satisfy your
inner voyeur. What kind of pictures?”
“A few from their Shell Club gig, and some candid stuff. A very
nice shot of Zanna at a film premiere with Kaoru.”
“He’s dating her?” Jeremy sounded pissed. Arik hastened to
correct that; he didn’t want one of his best friends being punched out
by the other.
“No, no,” he said soothingly. “They’re just friends. I think.”
Jeremy still looked cranky, but he let it go.
Arik was following his own train of thought. “I think we should
do more with Sex Gun’s website.”
“I didn’t know we had one.”
“The label does it; there’s not much there. Some promo shots, a
bio, stuff like that.”
Jeremy grinned. “Maybe we should rip off Jump Cut’s ideas.
Think they’d mind?”
“We could always ask their lawyer,” said Arik cheerfully. “That
Rachel girl. Don’t you practically have a relationship with her by
now?”
“More of one than I’ve got with Zanna,” admitted Jeremy. “At
least she mostly takes my calls, even if she won’t give up any useful
information. But what the hell, this could strike her as a legit reason
for us to talk to Ms. Martin.” He stretched his long legs across the
aisle, contemplating the possibility, however remote, of a Zanna
contact.
But Jeremy’s next communication to Zanna Martin was destined
to be through a vastly different medium than Jump Cut’s
lawyer/agent.

It was before their show in Portland that Sex Gun’s road manager,
Tanner Holt, handed the latest issue of MusicTown magazine to
Arik. “You break the news,” he said glumly. Arik glanced down at


83


the open page, and swore. Then he went to find his lead singer in
the dressing room. He strode into the room, and threw the magazine
at Jeremy. “What the fuck were you thinking?” he said.
Startled, Jeremy looked up. “What are you talking about?”
“Look at it. Page 22, “ said Arik. Jeremy picked the magazine
up from where it had fallen on the floor, and flipped the pages.
Then he went rigid with shock.


Sex Gun’s Jeremy Kane on love and hope and sex and
dreams- and Zanna Martin.
Breaking up is hard to do…but you couldn’t necessarily prove it
by Jeremy Kane. The Sex Gun singer recently endured a split
with his girlfriend of two years (culminating with a marguerita
thrown in his face at a popular Los Angeles eatery) but he waxed
philosophical when we encountered him on tour with his band.
Before a recent gig, Kane sat down with MusicTown and talked
about women, love, and ultimate sex.
MusicTown: you’ve got kind of a history of broken
relationships, don’t you?
JK: you know, things run their natural course, most of the
time, and if something doesn’t work out, I think it’s because it
wasn’t meant to be.
MusicTown: what about the marguerita?
JK: Yeah, I do feel bad about that…how this whole thing
happened. I’m sorry I hurt Jaime, but to my mind it would be a
far worse sin to keep seeing her when I’d fallen for someone
else.
MusicTown: but maybe you could have, uh, not slept with the
someone else in the meantime?
JK: If fate offers you a taste of heaven, are you going to turn
it down? Say no to something you’ve always been looking for,
that you want in the worst way? You don’t get to choose the
timing on these things. You have to go for it when you have the
chance.
MusicTown: so this was love at first sight?
JK: well, it was something at first sight… love overnight,
anyway. Definitely I’m in love with her now, which is kind of
problematic because at the moment she’s not returning my calls.
MusicTown: the object of your affection is not reciprocating?
JK: I think she’s inclined to be a bit cautious where I’m
concerned, for which I don’t blame her. I probably don’t appear


84


to be the best candidate for a serious relationship. Hopefully I’ll
get a chance to prove otherwise.
MusicTown: you haven’t been known for putting effort into
relationships with women. Has that changed?
JK: Yeah, that changed instantly. I don’t know how to
explain it. She was like light exploding in my head and the
world’s been a different place ever since. She has an allure
that’s stronger than any drug I’ve ever used. I’ve never craved
anything the way I want her. She’s completely, utterly mind-
blowing. I’m totally hooked on this woman, and I’ll do anything
to be with her again. It’s like fucking nirvana. It’s like finding
the meaning of life, the secret of the universe, all of it and more,
in her. So yes, you could say I’m definitely willing to put any
amount of effort into this.
MusicTown: Most of the women you’ve been involved with
have been beautiful young models and actresses. Is this one?
JK: Well, she’s definitely beautiful but we’re closer in age, I
think, which is very cool. She’s a songwriter, too, that’s how I
met her. She’s incredibly lovely, in a very real way, and sexy
and smart and talented. (laughs) What can I say? She’s
everything. She’s wonderful. And one of these days I’ll chase
her down.
While Jeremy isn’t naming any names, other sources identified
the new love of his life as Zanna Martin, vocalist for up and
coming alt rockers Jump Cut. The band’s cover of “Taste the
Pain” is rocketing up the singles charts, and anyone who’s caught
the video of their live performance on MTV will have no difficulty
seeing the attraction. The delectable Ms. Martin is definitely
worthy of desire. Kane may have some competition for her
attentions, however: she’s said to be frequently in the company
of Technical Difficulties frontman Nick Tzezna.

Incredulously, Jeremy raised his face from the magazine. “I can’t
believe they did this,” he said. “This is from that interview I did
with them months ago, right after I met her. I didn’t even know she
was in a band, then.”
“Well, obviously someone clued them in. They’re gonna have a
field day with it now,” Arik told him.
“She is going to fucking hate this,” said Jeremy bleakly, still
staring at the magazine. There was a picture of him, taken from a
concert, shirtless and down on his knees, and one of Zanna, a candid
picture evidently from their club tour. She was lying down on the


85


bus, arms crossed behind her head, one leg propped up on the back
of the seat, with her eyes closed. The combination was deliberate,
and provocative.
“No shit,” said Arik.
“And I can’t even get in touch with her,” Jeremy went on.
Arik suggested, “You’d better ask Kaoru to pass on a message or
something. She’s going to think you said this last week.”
“Kaoru’s on location somewhere, isn’t he?”
“Fuck. Yes. Well, that lawyer, Rachel Something, then.”
“Christ, what do I say?” Jeremy looked genuinely distressed,
Arik noted. It was very far from his usual take it or leave it attitude
with women. “They took this completely out of context. That was a
long interview, and it was mostly about “Hurricane” and us still
being alive, touring again, all that. It was right at the end that he
asked me about women, and mostly what I said was that I felt like
I’d met someone who I’d been looking for, all my life. Someone
that I really connected with.
“But they take this little snippet, and print it now, when everyone
knows who Zanna Martin is, and it makes it look like I went out of
my way to talk about sleeping with her. And it wasn’t about that, I
was talking about the whole thing, not just sex. They make it sound
like I was calling her the fuck of the century, or something.”
“It sucks,” agreed Arik.
Jeremy said in frustration, “Just when it seemed like I was finally
getting through to her, this has to happen.”
Arik thought about mentioning that getting through to her, in that
she slapped him across the face, wouldn’t be regarded as progress
by most people, but instead he said, “Do you know where Jump
Cut’s playing next?”
Jeremy said morosely “I checked their website. There’s nothing
that works. And Tom says they’re done recording. The CD’s well
into post production already.”
Arik said, “That was fast,” surprised.
“Yeah, well, at their stage of the game, there’s pressure to avoid
using much studio time, remember how that was? But anyway, Tom
said they’re an efficient bunch, and they don’t screw around.” He
smiled a little, reluctantly. “I don’t know if that was in favorable
contrast to us, or what.”


86


Arik said, “Probably. Not that we screw around; we’re just
perfectionists.”
“Or so we like to think,” said Jeremy. He got up from the couch
and prowled restlessly around the room. Arik watched him, not
without sympathy. Jeremy’s problem, he thought, was that he’d
never come close to caring about someone this way. And he’d never
been interested in a woman and experienced this kind of rejection.
In a way, it was too bad he’d fallen for someone as complex as
Zanna Martin. Of course, that probably had a lot to with it. Arik
had a feeling that Jeremy had more in common with her than he
realized. For starters, they were both apparently stubborn as hell.
Jeremy definitely was going to have his hands full.
But they had been friends for a long time, and regardless of how
difficult he could be, when you got down to it, Arik loved Jeremy
like a brother. If what Jeremy wanted was Zanna Martin, then Arik
supposed Sex Gun was going to have to get behind this…
“What about the Oceans benefit?” he asked.
“What about it?” said Jeremy blankly. “It’s in two weeks, we’re
headlining. What else is there?”
Patiently, Arik explained, “Well, if Jump Cut’s not booked for
anything else-”
“Oh god, that’s brilliant. Yes. I’ll call ARS. If we’ve got the
contract rights to kick someone off the bill, and we do, surely we
can get someone on.”

To: Zanna
From: Kaoru
Re: oh, wow

Hey, Z, how are you doin? I’m guessing you’re getting a lot of
shit over Jeremy’s interview in MusicTown, after all, I even
heard about it this fast. Anyway, just wanted to lend moral
support. Try and stay cool, the vultures are circling and if they
know they’ve actually drawn blood, they’ll be on you worse
than ever.

To: Zanna
From: Rachel


87


Re: that interview

Talk about spilling your guts! What’s with that? Well, on the
bright side (or, to be cynical) that rag has done us a favor in
one regard – their crappy article will actually sell Jump Cut
records.
Interesting sidebar – I got a message yesterday, to call Shel
Goldstein, Sex Gun’s manager. Been playing phone tag
since. I’ll let you know when I find out what it’s about.

To: Zanna
From: Callie
Re: YOU DID WHAT?!

Or should that be, you did who? :D sorry couldn’t resist! I
can’t believe you didn’t tell me! I thought you’d given up on
men?! He’s a hunk and a half – but isn’t he kind of a wacko?
Are you still seeing him? I want DETAILS! Quit holding out!
Much love, your agog with curiosity sister,
Cal


Jump Cut Diary
Stopping in for a minute, post Olympia show. Tomorrow, Seattle!
This is going to be our first and hopefully last comment on Zanna’s love
life: we would really appreciate it if people could try and respect her
privacy. It’s a difficult thing, to have your most personal interactions under
scrutiny, and whatever she is or isn’t doing, she deserves to be let alone to
do it, or not, in peace.
(And with any luck her blabbermouth admirer will also get the hint).
And in the news – our next single is going to be “Life is Triage,” and we’ll
be filming the video soon –stay tuned for details!


RockNet Newsline
Just added to the lineup for the Oceans benefit is Jump Cut.
With their first CD being released soon, and two singles on the
charts, this will be the band’s first major concert appearance.


88


Although they’ve been playing club dates, and opened for
Technical Difficulties at the power pop group’s recent Private
Performance gig at the RockNet studios, lead guitar Matt Wilder
admitted they’re excited about playing the stadium show.
“It’s the kind of thing you dream about, from the time you’re
a kid playing alone in your room, with people yelling at you to
shut up,” he said. “It’s definitely a long way from the
coffeehouse we were playing at just a few months ago.”
Although Jump Cut hails from the Midwest, lead singer Zanna
Martin is a neophyte surfer, which might explain her band’s
participation in the fundraiser, which seeks to preserve shoreline
quality in Southern California. Or maybe it’s her recently
disclosed relationship with Sex Gun frontman Jeremy Kane,
whose band is headlining the event.


89









Chapter 9



Seattle by Night: What’s happening
Tonight:
Gay and Lesbian Film Festival, Wyman Center for the Arts,
reception at 7:30 pm.
SEX GUN, Cutler Center. Opening act: Mutant Love Slaves.
8pm, a few seats left, $35 and up.
Jump Cut, Mirror Theatre, with the Mike Scott Band. 9pm,
tickets $20./
/
They were going over the setlist, and arguing about whether both If I
Could and Miss You was too much angst for one night (Jeremy
thought so, Arik pointed out they both got a lot of recurrent airplay)
when they heard voices outside the room. Jeremy jerked around to
face the entrance, Arik groaned, Daniel said uh oh very quietly, and
Johnny remarked with a grin, “This ought to be good.” Because
they all could recognize Zanna Martin’s voice saying emphatically,
“I am going to kill him.”
She entered, shaking off Tanner who was valiantly if
ineffectually trying to dissuade her, and crossed the room in long
strides. She was wearing a dress with a slinky black top like a
dancer’s leotard, and a gold snakeskin velvet skirt, short and flared
and showing off her long legs. The heels of her boots clacked
sharply on the floor. She looked great, Jeremy thought, irrelevantly.
She also looked extremely angry.
She marched up to them, and Arik and Daniel prudently
withdrew, but Johnny held his ground, apparently prepared to enjoy
the show. Jeremy just sat back, feeling doomed. There was nothing


90


he could do now. Obviously she’d seen that stupid article, and
obviously she wasn’t a bit happy about it.
She stopped in front of him, and said without preamble, “What
the hell were you thinking!” and smacked the back of his head.
Incensed, she went on “Fucking nirvana? What the hell was that
supposed to mean?” Another smack upside the head. “And was that
a verb or an adjective, anyway,” she added crossly.
He started to laugh at that –as mad as she obviously was with
him, she still was analytical enough to criticize his syntax. She
snapped “It’s not funny!” and he sobered, saying, “I’m sorry, Z, if
this has caused you any inconvenience, but-”
“Inconvenience? Is that what you call it? I’ve had RockNet in
my face, a deluge of phone messages and email, moshers at our last
show chanting ‘nirvana’ at me-”
“Zanna, I-”
“Nick wanting to know why the VH1 poptarts are asking him
how he feels about my relationship,” she practically spat the word
out, “with the notorious Jeremy Kane-”
“Look, I didn’t-”
“The Lilith crew is referring to me as ‘Wonderslut’-”
“I’m sure they mean it as a compliment,” he said, trying not to
grin.
She ignored him. “Every man I meet is giving me horribly
speculative looks-”
“I’m sorry-”
“And did it ever occur to you that maybe you should have said
some of this to me, instead of spilling your guts to a freaking
reporter?” She appeared to have run out of breath on this piece of
patent unreasonableness, and he seized his opportunity.
“I would have, Zanna, but listening to me hasn’t really been your
strong suit, has it?” he said sharply. “I can’t call you, because you
won’t give me your number. You won’t call me. Every time I see
you, you run away. So how the hell am I supposed to tell you
anything?”
For a moment, they glared at each other. Johnny said fairly,
“You know, he’s got you there.” Zanna threw him a startled look,
apparently not having noticed him before. She blew her hair out of
her face, and said, “Fine. Okay. Have it your way,” and snatched up


91


the marker Jeremy had been using to write the setlist. Grabbing his
arm, she snapped off the cap with her teeth, and started scrawling
numbers from his elbow to his wrist. She ran out of room,
evidently, because she yanked up his shirt and kept writing across
his chest. Jeremy was so taken aback by this sudden assault, he
didn’t move, and from across the room Arik, Daniel and Tanner
watched in amazement.
“There,” she said, capping the marker and tossing it down on the
table. “For the next time you get the urge to bloody well shoot your
mouth off. Because I will annihilate you, if I ever have to read
anything like that again!” She spun around on her heel, but Jeremy
was getting used to her hit and run tactics, and was ready this time.
He was out of his chair in an instant, and in front of her, saying,
“Fair enough, Z, but you should know that I never gave your name
to anyone, and since I meant everything I said, even though I
probably could have put it better, I can’t wholly apologize for the
remarks.” He smiled, a little crookedly, and said, “I am sorry if I’ve
caused you any pain, and I can only say that I never wanted that.”
She stormed, “I hate this! I hate it that freaking Rolling Stone
reporters are leaving messages on my voice mail. I hate it that
complete strangers are debating this on the Internet. And I don’t-
why do you- I mean…” Her eyes met his in angry frustration. “Why
are we doing this to each other, anyway?”
His heart took a leap, because that seemed to imply that they
should maybe be doing something else, but before he could respond,
someone opened the door and said “Five minutes,” and Zanna
looked around as though she had only just noticed where she was,
and said to the room at large, “Sorry for the interruption.”
Jeremy dropped his head back, looked at the ceiling, and said to
no one in particular, “motherfucker.” He said to Zanna, “I don’t
suppose there’s any point in asking you to hang around til after we
play?”
She shook her head, as he followed her out into the hall. “Gotta
work. I only came by to yell at you.” She headed for the exit,
saying only, over her shoulder, “See you around.”
The rest of the band joined Jeremy in the hall, and they headed
for the stage.
“I think I’m making progress,” said Jeremy thoughtfully.


92


“ I guess you’d better keep your shirt on tonight,” said Tanner.
“Huh?”
“Or a bunch of weirdoes are going to be calling your new
girlfriend.” He gestured at Jeremy’s arm. “If that’s a real number,”
he added.
Jeremy looked at the four digits scrawled on his forearm, and
lifted up his shirt to read the rest. Johnny burst out laughing. The
numbers went across the singer’s broad and hairless chest, and just
below was written a distinctly sarcastic “for a good time.”
Jeremy started to smile. “Tanner, let me have your cell phone,”
he said. He punched in the number, and his smile widened – it was
her voice mail. He said, “Thanks, Zanna. Talk to you soon, I
hope,” and rang off.
Daniel said prosaically, “You’d better copy that number down, in
case the ink runs when you sweat.”

From “Selling your Soul to Rock and Roll: trying to make
it in the music business” by Carla Ingalls, part I.
MusicTown Vol.538

...Saturday’s Child has had a tough time breaking into
mainstream markets, and singer Nikki Dancer isn’t shy about
giving her take. “It’s harder for women, period. The record
execs, the people who put on the big tours, are mostly guys in
suits, and they want you to look a certain way, act a certain way.
If you don’t get with their program, you’re history.” She also
thinks that some bands are making it on something other than
their musical talent. “It really sucks when you see someone like
Zanna Martin (of Jump Cut) come along, and kaboom! Her band
gets to open for Technical Difficulties and play the Oceans
benefit. Why? Well, she’s dating Nick Tzezna, and another one
of her lovers is headlining the Oceans show- and when Jeremy
Kane tells the promoters to jump, they ask how high. We’ve
been doing this for years, and we’ve never gotten those kinds of
breaks.”
Jump Cut’s other vocalist/guitar player had sharp words on
that score. “Anyone who wants to know why we got those gigs
should take a look at the charts,” said Matt Wilder. “We’ve had
two songs in the hot entry list in as many months. We’ve had a
video on the most requested list since we started touring. How
many of them are in that position? Yeah, we’ve gotten some


93


breaks, but who hasn’t? The main piece of luck we’ve had was
that MTV put out a video for us, from their competition. And I
can guarantee that none of us slept with anyone at MTV.”
Zanna herself shrugs off the comments. “Sometimes I wish I
was getting as much action as they’re giving me credit for,” she
says with a laugh. “But there’s a difference between being lucky,
which we’ve been, and getting lucky, which we haven’t.”


94









Chapter 10



Zanna had not expected to like Southern California. Hideous
freeways, smog, shallow people, was basically what she
remembered from previous trips.
But somehow, she did like it. She liked the nervous, frenetic
energy of the city, and she liked the little beach communities. She
liked the twisting canyons. Most of all, she loved being by the
ocean. She had initially stayed with Rachel on coming out to LA,
but when their producer, Tom Scott, discovered she liked surfing, he
had offered her the use of the guest house at his place, which was
almost on the beach.
The place itself was compact, but comfortable. A miniscule
kitchen nook and living area downstairs, a sleeping loft and
bathroom above. Outside was a patio screened with bougainvillea.
A big locker held a bike and surfboard (both on loan from Kaoru).
It was only a short walk to the small shopping zone which had a
coffee bar, several cafes, a surf shop, and a grocery store. She could
run for miles on the paved path along the oceanfront.
It was after a morning run that she ran into Kaoru and Arik Jones,
having breakfast outside at a sidewalk café. Kaoru, who had
become one of her favorite people in California, hailed her with
pleasure. “Zanna! Come join us!”
She hesitated, because she didn’t know Arik very well.
Considering the last few times she’d seen him there’d been some
kind of altercation with Jeremy, it seemed a bit awkward. But he
was smiling at her, and pulling out a chair with a gesture of
invitation, so perhaps it was okay.
He didn’t seem to find anything amiss. “So how’d your


95


recording go?” he asked.
She laughed. “Well, I don’t have anything to compare it to, but I
guess okay. It’s done, anyway.”
“How’d you like working with Tom?”
“Oh, he’s great! He has a way of pulling things together that’s
incredible. He’s done a lot of stuff with you guys, right?”
Arik nodded. “He’s our producer of choice by now.”
Zanna said frankly, “I can see why. ‘Hurricane’ is excellent.”
Kaoru said with a grin, “You listen to Sex Gun now, Z?”
“I even bought the CD,” she retorted.
“I’ll return the favor when yours comes out,” promised Arik.
The waitress came up then, delivering omelets to both the men,
and giving Zanna an inquiring look. She asked for orange juice.
“Were you out this morning?” she asked, nodding towards the
water.
Kaoru swallowed a bite of spinach omelet, and said, “Yeah, but it
was tame. We’re going up to Point Parrish tomorrow, you want to
come?”
She was tempted. They were playing a club in LA that night, but
the day was free.
Arik seemed to read her mind. “We’ll have you back in plenty of
time,” he told her. “You’re at Apres tomorrow, right?”
She nodded, surprised that he knew, and was just saying “I’d love
to go, then,” when she saw Kaoru, who was sitting across from her,
look over her head with some consternation. And then Jeremy
dropped into the seat next to her, and said, “Go where?”
She was on the verge of making an excuse and leaving, when the
waitress came back with her juice. Damn, she thought, it would be
way too obvious now. She eyed him warily. She hadn’t seen or
talked to him since Seattle, although he had left her a couple of
messages. Kaoru also looked cautious, Arik resigned.
“Point Parrish,” he said. “Tomorrow morning. Early.”
“Yeah? Am I invited?” said Jeremy, quite cheerfully.
Kaoru said unenthusiastically “Sure. Anyone can come.”
Jeremy glanced at Zanna. “You don’t mind, do you?”
“Fine with me,” she said faintly. His lips twitched, and he started
to say something, but Kaoru, anticipating it, forestalled him.
“I’ll pick Z up then, and we’ll meet you there,” he broke in


96


smoothly. Zanna flashed him a relieved smile. Jeremy raised an
eyebrow, and said ironically, “Swell.”
There was an awkward little silence, then Jeremy said to Zanna,
“So how’s the record?”
That was an innocuous enough topic, she thought. “Good,” she
answered. “I think. I was just telling these two, it’s kind of hard to
know when you haven’t done it before. And I never know if my
stuff is any good or not, only if it feels right to me.”
He looked amused. “Too true,” he said. “Sometimes I’m like,
this track is great, and he,” nodding in Arik’s direction, “is saying
what, are you kidding, it sucks.”
“How do you decide what makes the final cut?” she asked
curiously.
“Lots of arguing,” Arik told her. “If necessary, arm wrestling.”
“Your band do it like that?” asked Jeremy.
Zanna said, “If we did, it would amount to letting Matt pick
everything! But it wasn’t especially an issue. We don’t have that
much material, and we relied a lot on Tom’s input.”
Kaoru said, “I hope ‘Girlfriend’ made it. It’s my personal
favorite.”
Zanna laughed. “The label wants me to clean it up for the radio,”
she said.
“Going to do it?” asked Jeremy. He must have ordered before
sitting down with them, because the waitress had just brought him
an omelet, too. Zanna was beginning to actually feel a little hungry
herself.
She shook her head. “I don’t think so,” she answered him. “It
was one of those songs that was born whole, if you know what I
mean, and it feels right to me the way it is. They can blur out the
one four letter word if they want to, and if radio stations can’t take
the rest, too bad.”
“Good girl,” he said. “You stick to what’s right for you. It
works out better in the long run.”
Kaoru said, “Yeah, and never mind those little overnight
excursions to the county jail.” Zanna glanced apprehensively in
Jeremy’s direction, but he was grinning reminiscently.
“God, Florida, yeah. That was a helluva show.”
Arik told Zan dryly, “Just be sure and keep your clothes on when


97


you do it live.”
Jeremy noticed Zanna looking at his plate, and said, “Want
some?” She demurred, but he ignored that, and held out a forkful of
omelet for her. She ate it, said “Mmm, that’s good,” and he looked
gratified. “Try the potatoes,” he said. Zanna decided they seemed
to have an undeclared truce in effect. Well, if he wasn’t going to
bring up anything personal, far be it for her to spoil the mood. She
filched a potato spear, coated in something spicy and very tasty, off
his plate. Jeremy proceeded to alternate bites between the two of
them, while asking Kaoru about his latest film. It was all very
friendly, and Zanna started to relax. It occurred to her suddenly that
this was by far the most normal interaction she had ever had with
him. It was kind of funny, because sharing food was sort of a
personal thing, more intimate in some ways than sharing a bed.
He was, she thought, good company when he wasn’t being a
psycho.
Two women stopped by their table just then. The taller one was
dressed in a loose, gauzy green tunic with silver jewelry, and had a
wildly curly red-gold mane of hair. Zan recognized her as Maia
Stadick, whom she’d seen with Tom. Accompanying the singer was
a sleek brunette, also 30ish, very put together in white linen. They
made Zanna, in tank top and ratty old shorts, with no makeup and
windblown hair, feel distinctly downscale and grubby. She noticed
the brunette looking at her curiously, and with perhaps a hint of
condescension. Well, Zanna thought, she didn’t look any worse
than the guys she was with, who were all in shorts, sandals, and t
shirts. Jeremy looked at least as bad as she did, since his khaki
cutoffs had odd bleach marks, and his shirt was faded to an
indeterminate grayish color.
He seemed to sense her discomfort, though, because as he leaned
back to look up at the women, he dropped an arm across the back of
Zanna’s chair, a casually inclusive gesture which somehow made
her one of them.
Maia was introducing the other woman as Sarah Keeler, and the
men all made polite noises. Jeremy said to Maia, “Have you met
Zanna, yet?”
She said, “Not officially, but I’ve heard a lot about you from
Tom, naturally.”


98


Zanna smiled, and murmured something appropriate.
Maia went on “Actually you’re just the people we need to see.
Sarah and I are co-producing a compilation album, to benefit
Animal Relief Foundation. It’s going to be covers of oldies, and
yes, we’re absolutely hoping to capitalize shamelessly on Pearl
Jam’s success with Last Kiss. How about Sex Gun contributing a
track?”
Arik said suspiciously, “Aren’t those the nutcases that want all
pets set free, or something?”
“That’s ALF,” replied Sarah.
Arik said, “As long as it’s not the wackos, I wouldn’t mind.” He
looked at Jeremy, who shrugged. “Any ideas?” Arik asked him.
“I know!” said Zanna unexpectedly. They looked at her in
surprise. She continued, “‘This Magic Moment.’ Jay and the
Americans did a syrupy version, but if you used the same
instrumental effects you had on ‘I will find a way,’ and kind of dark
and nasty with the vocals, it could be really effective.” She added,
looking at Jeremy, “And you’re absolutely perfect for that.”
“Thanks,” he said. “I think.” He gave her a speculative look.
“Tell you what. We’ll do it if you’ll be in the video.”
Zanna hesitated. Sarah said encouragingly, “It’s for a good
cause,” and Zan capitulated. “Oh, all right,” she said, adding
cautiously, “As long as you’re talking about a standard MTV type
video.” Jeremy grinned, rather fiendishly, she thought.
“How about your band?” Maia asked Zanna. “Would Jump Cut
do a song for us?” Zan looked a little surprised, but answered,
“Sure. Glad to. I can’t think of anything at the moment, but we’ll
kick it around.”
Kaoru said, “I’ve got one for you. ‘Downtown’.” He hummed a
tune. “You know it?”
Zanna said, “Petula Clark, wasn’t it?”
Arik said thoughtfully, “Now that I’d like to hear. I bet Matt
could come up with something appropriately updated. If he can do
the Supremes as grunge rock, that kid can write guitar parts for
anything.”
Jeremy said innocently to Maia, “You should get Zan to talk her
boyfriend into contributing. Go for the pop market as well.” Seeing
Maia’s puzzled look, he added helpfully, “Technical Difficulties.”


99


Maia said, “Who-” and Jeremy said, rather maliciously it seemed
to Zanna, “You must not be reading Soundline lately. Nick
Tzezna.”
Sarah said, “I thought he was-” then broke off in some confusion.
Jeremy finished “Married. He is,” and Zanna could have killed
him.
Maia drawled “Don’t be such an asshole, Jeremy.” She gave Zan
a sympathetic look, and said, “All the same, if you do have an in
with Tech Diff, you might mention it to them. They’d be a nice
addition.”
Zanna was grateful to her for smoothing over the awkwardness.
She thought she dimly remembered that Maia and Jeremy had once
been an item. She said, “I can ask, anyway.” She stood up. “I have
to run. Nice to meet you both,” she added to the women. Sarah
gave her a card and Zanna promised to call soon to get the details on
the compilation project.
Jeremy remarked, “Don’t hold your breath. She’s not so hot at
returning phone calls,” and Zanna said shortly, “Some, I do.”
“Ouch,” said Arik to Jeremy.
Kaoru said to Zanna, “See you tomorrow, then?” and she nodded,
although she would gladly have cancelled now – she didn’t think she
could handle an entire morning of Jeremy in a caustic mood. She
said to him frostily, “Thanks for breakfast,” and was surprised, not
happily, when he stood and said, “I’ll walk you out.” Not caring to
make an issue of it, she said goodbye to the others, and preceded
him through the tables to the sidewalk.
“So long,” she said pointedly. He ignored that, and accompanied
her down the street. Okay, she thought, be that way. She stared
straight ahead and walked rapidly, with her long, swinging stride.
He kept pace with her.
“Zanna.”
“What,” she snapped.
“I’m sorry. It was uncalled for.”
She was, in spite of herself, a little disarmed. He went on
“Maia’s right. I’m a jealous asshole. And I apologize for it.
Abjectly.” He paused, then said carefully, “I would hate to see you
get hurt.”
She was thoroughly taken aback. Jeremy was worried about Nick


100


hurting her? She tried to process that.
He changed the subject. “You ever been to Point Parrish?” he
asked her.
“No.”
“You’ll like it. It’s more challenging.”
She said, with a touch of worry, “I hope I’m good enough.”
“You are,” he said. Noticing her surprise, he added, “Yeah, I’ve
seen you out a few times. You’re coming along nicely.”
“Thanks.” She hadn’t noticed him, she thought.
“We should take a trip up the coast some time,” he said. “There
are some really beautiful places to surf.” He smiled at her, and now
she was totally confused. What was with this ‘we’ stuff. “Or
Hawaii,” he said. “Fantastic breaks there.”
They reached the corner, where the Mexican grocery was, and
stopped. Another of those moments when she had no idea what to
say to him. She felt like she was back in chapter 2, and he was
somewhere in chapter 7.
“Well,” she said. She was facing him, shifting her weight from
foot to foot. They looked at each other. For a moment, Zanna felt
like blurting out something along the lines of, just tell me what you
want. But then he probably would, and she didn’t think she could
handle it. At times like this, though, he seemed so ordinary – not
like Jeremy Kane, notorious rock star, dangerous ex-con and junkie,
known for a violent temper and self destructive impulses. Not like
the person who dated supermodels, whose picture appeared in
glossy magazines, who was rich and famous. He was just a guy, a
little scruffy, needing a haircut, who had a beautiful smile. Times
like this, he seemed like someone she could be around…
He picked up her hand, played with her fingers, feeling the
calluses on the tips from playing guitar. He said unexpectedly and
almost shyly, “I’m glad you like to surf.”
She said inanely, “Me, too.” She looked at him, and hastily
revised her previous opinion; he didn’t look the least bit ordinary, he
was way too good-looking and your everyday guy on the street,
even in Southern California, wasn’t built like that. And the way he
made her feel scared the hell out of her.
He said, “See you tomorrow, then,” and kissed her cheek. He
turned, and walked back in the direction of the café, and she


101


continued on towards Tom’s, somewhat bemused.

Jeremy was feeling the usual contradictory mix of emotions she
aroused in him. Simple pleasure at time spent in her company,
euphoria because that was apparently what this love thing did to
you, frustration because if he told her, she’d run for miles. Jealousy
over Nick Tzezna, longing and desire at her closeness when he was
sitting next to her. Satisfaction at getting her to eat something (she
was too thin; he was afraid she skipped a lot of meals). An odd
protectiveness, when Maia and her friend came up, because he could
tell Zanna often felt like she didn’t belong. It was one of so many
things he wanted to say to her, that he felt that way, too, that it was
one of the reasons he thought they should be together. Feeling like
an outcast that didn’t mean you always had to be alone, did it?
He wanted so badly to know her better. And he was all too aware
of how easy it was to scare her off.

Arik and Kaoru had been joined at the table by Maia and Sarah.
They were all drinking coffee, and evidently, from the sudden
silence that fell, talking about him. Exasperated, he pulled up a
chair from another table, and said, “What?”
Maia said, with the forthrightness of an ex-lover who’s long over
it, “You shouldn’t needle her like that, Jeremy.”
“I know that, okay?” He caught the waitress’ eye, picked up
Maia’s cup and pointed to himself.
“So you’re all just sitting around and analyzing my love life?” he
asked with a touch of sarcasm.
“More like the lack of it,” Arik pointed out.
“Well, I’m working on that,” Jeremy told him. He looked at
Kaoru and said, “Since we’re on the subject – what’s with you,
anyway?”
“You mean, with Zanna?” Jeremy nodded, and everyone looked
interested. Kaoru said resignedly, “Don’t worry, I’m no
competition. We’re just friends.”
Sarah said, “So she’s involved with Nick Tzezna. He’s such a
charmer.”
Maia said, “I thought she had something going with her young
hunk of a guitar player.” She looked at Jeremy with some


102


amusement. “Stiff competition.”
“Yeah, thanks for the vote of confidence,” he told her.
Maia laughed. “It’s good for you to have to work for it for a
change.”
Jeremy scowled. “This isn’t work, it’s more like slow torture.”
“Then you should be grateful to us,” said Sarah. “We’ve given
you a perfect excuse for seeing her. She obviously has a definite
opinion on how ‘Magic Moment’ should be done.”
Jeremy looked a bit more cheerful. “She did, didn’t she?” Then
his face darkened, and he said morosely, “But she never does call
me back.”
“Don’t take that too personally,” said Kaoru. “She almost never
calls me either. She doesn’t like phones. E-mail’s better with her.”
Arik said to Jeremy, “You should get a computer. Actually,” he
thought it over, “you should get a house.”
“You kicking me out?” Jeremy asked sardonically.
“Not at the moment,” said Arik. “But if you haven’t gotten a
place by next spring, your ass is on the street, buddy.” Jeremy
grinned. “I’ll work on it,” he said.
Maia said, “I would think you’d have incentive now. Tom’s
guest house is tiny; she won’t want to stay there forever.”
Jeremy said gloomily, “She doesn’t believe in living together,
unfortunately, so that’s no help.”
Maia gave a gurgle of laughter. “So what, you’re going to marry
her?”
Jeremy said, quite seriously, “I would, tomorrow, if that was
what she wanted. But I think she’s kind of into solitude.”
The rest of them were in shock. No one, not even Arik, had
realized just how deep Jeremy’s feelings for Zanna Martin went.
Maia, for one, was finding it exceedingly ironic that he had fallen
for someone even more noncommittal than himself.
She said briskly, “Well, good luck to you, Jeremy. And if there’s
anything I can do to help, let me know.” She rose, and Sarah
followed suit. Maia said, “If you’re in town when we do the CD
release party, it would be a perfect occasion for you to ask her to.”
Jeremy was struck by this; simply asking Zanna for a date had not
occurred to him.


103









Chapter 11



To: Zanna
From: Rachel
Re: The Big Gig

Okay, it’s official – Jump Cut is playing the Oceans benefit!
This is great – all day show, big crowd, name bands, lots of
exposure.
Uh….you do know who the headliner is?

To: Rachel
From: Zanna
Re: Oceans

Well, yes. Hard to miss.
Btw, I’ve run into him a few times. Mixed results. I even
surfed with him at Point Parrish (with Arik and Kaoru as well)
but it was like a cease fire was in effect, we didn’t talk much
and then it was safe topics like waves.

To: Zanna
From: Rachel
Re: JK

Not to presume to give personal advice here, but has it
occurred to you that it might be easier to bow to the inevitable
and…**gasp**…actually have a conversation with him about
what’s going on? Clearly he’s not going to just give up.


104


The suspense is killing me…I can’t imagine what it’s doing to
you.

To: Z
From: Rachel
Re: him, again

Hey, guess who I ran into last night in Santa Monica?
That’s right, your old friend Jeremy Kane. Who was
perfectly pleasant for the most part. He was with Tom Scott,
who btw had lots of nice things to say about you and your
band.
Oh, and JK said to tell you, and I quote, he’s really looking
forward to seeing you at Oceans.

To: Rachel
From: Zan
Re: gulp

That was probably sarcasm, since he’s left a couple of
messages on my voice mail and I haven’t called him back.
Matt says the same thing as you, get it over with. The
problem is, I can never think what to say to him. I’m afraid if I
start that conversation, he’ll tell me way more than I want to
know.

Well, you crazy girl, what do you want? Since you haven’t
just ruthlessly choked him off, which we both know you’re
capable of doing, my keen legal brain surmises you do have
some interest?

I don’t know what I want. On one hand, I sure don’t want to
get involved with a violence prone heroin addict. On the other
– there are times when he seems like a completely different
person than Sex Gun’s infamous singer, and I’m attracted to
that person. But it’s more complicated than that- I’ve got my
own problems, god knows….


105



Zanna had decided that things couldn’t continue on the same way.
She was going to have to have it out with Jeremy.
She had only seen him once since the day at Point Parrish, and
that had been an unmitigated disaster. She was been with Nick at a
club called Instant Karma, on one of the nights set aside for
impromptu sets by the locals and whoever else might be in town.
You never knew who would show, anyone from Sheryl Crow to
Paul McCartney might turn up, but it was usually a mix of studio
musicians and recognizable faces. On this particular night, Nick
was talked into doing an acoustic solo version of “Gone,” and Maia
Stadick played “City of New Orleans” with most of the crowd doing
the chorus for her. Then Jeremy, whom Zan hadn’t noticed, got up
and joined Maia for several numbers. Zanna was a little surprised at
how well he played guitar.
“Why doesn’t he play with Sex Gun?” she asked Nick.
Nick answered, “He does, in the studio. I don’t know why he
doesn’t play live. He’s good enough – better than I am, anyway,
and it’s never stopped me,” he added with a laugh.
Zanna laughed, too, because it was true – Nick was a sloppy
guitar player, but Tech Diff kept their songs basic enough that it
didn’t matter, and their lead player, Tim Danna, was very good.
Nick’s strength was in his distinctive voice, and his ability to write
songs gritty enough for alternative rock, and radio friendly enough
for the pop charts. And of course, his looks – sort of Brad Pitt meets
the Clash – didn’t hurt either. Arik Jones had once said that Nick
Tzezna was every Midwestern housewife’s bad boy fantasy. (What
Jeremy had said was unprintable.)
Jeremy and Maia finished their turn, to enthusiastic applause.
They were talking and laughing together as they walked off the
stage. Zanna noted, with a small pang, how relaxed Jeremy seemed
– a side of him she didn’t get to see. She wondered if they were
back on again, and was surprised to find how much she didn’t like
the idea. She chided herself mentally – this was not her business.
Jeremy had seen her, though, and he left Maia’s side and worked
his way through the crowd to where she and Nick were standing.
He stopped in front of her, and said “Hello, Zanna,” without smiling,
flicking an unfriendly look in Nick’s direction.


106


Zanna took the cowardly route. She said, “Hi,” then, mostly to
Nick, “I need to talk to Maia about the Animal Relief project.
Excuse me for a moment?” Nick nodded, looking slightly amused,
and Jeremy scowled. She made her escape.
True to her word, she did head in Maia’s direction. She was
sitting at a table with Kara Lewis, and Sarah, and a woman Zanna
didn’t recognize.
Maia and Sarah both greeted her warmly, and Kara leaned back
and snagged an empty chair from another table. Patting it invitingly,
she said insouciantly, “Join us! This looks like a meeting of the Sex
Gun girlfriends and exs club.”
Zanna sat down, raising her eyebrows in unspoken enquiry. Maia
said dryly, “Zanna, meet Kara, Arik’s ex, and Jill, his current.”
Jill demurred. “More like old friends, actually.”
Kara told Zan, “Steve Stanley was Jill’s brother.” To Jill, she
added, “And don’t get coy with us, missy! I saw your Beamer in his
driveway on Saturday morning.” Jill laughed, and blushed. She
was an attractive woman with short brown hair and glasses, who
didn’t look the least like a rock star’s girlfriend.
Kara said, “Then we have Maia, survivor of Jeremy, and of
course yourself, who rumor has it he badly wants to be next.” She
looked at Zanna with bright eyed interest.
Maia said easily, “Let the poor girl be, Kara, she looks like she’s
had an overdose of testosterone exposure lately.”
Sarah said, “I can see why,” nodding across the room. Zanna
looked, too. Jeremy and Nick were still standing where she’d left
them, and it didn’t look like a friendly conversation. Zanna shut her
eyes for a moment, and opened them to find the other women
regarding her sympathetically.
“I hate men,” she said. Sarah patted her hand. “Of course you
do,” she said.
Maia asked, “What about your guitar player? I think he’s a
honey.”
Zanna grinned. “He is,” she admitted. She went on “Animal
Relief was my excuse for coming over here, so in the interest of
keeping me honest, let me tell you that Tech Diff’s willing to
contribute, Jump Cut’s recorded two tracks, one with me on vocals,
and one with Matt, and you’re welcome to either, or both.”


107


“What are they? asked Kara, with interest.
“I did ‘Downtown,’ and Matt did an old Grass Roots thing.
‘Walk a Million Miles’ I think it’s called.”
“Good choices,” said Kara. “Nice and catchy. I’m doing ‘Son of
a Preacher Man,’ which is stupid of me, because who could do it
better than Dusty?”
“Yours is great, too, just different,” Maia told her. She grinned.
“Me, I went for the unlikely. I’m doing the Rascals ‘Good
Loving.’”
Zanna laughed. “I can hardly wait to get this CD. All it needs is
Courtney Love singing ‘Leader of the Pack.’” She glanced back
and saw that Jeremy had vanished, and Nick was talking to someone
she didn’t know. “Oh, good,” she said. “All clear.” She pushed
back her chair and started to say “Nice to have met you-” when
Sarah flashed her a warning look. But it was too late. Jeremy
literally caught her by surprise, as was his wont, gripping her arm
and almost lifting her onto her feet.
Maia said sharply, “Don’t manhandle the girl, Jeremy!”
He ignored her. Swinging Zan around to face him, he said to her,
“I’m sick of leaving messages on your fucking voice mail, since you
never bother to return them. We need to talk.”
Zanna said tightly, “No, we don’t. Not here.”
“Yeah, well, you had your chance to make it somewhere else.”
Her temper flared. She said, “You arrogant son of a bitch, what
gives you the idea that you can just have your way any time-”
“What?! I never get my way when it comes to you, Zanna-”
“-and why the hell should I talk to you, since every time I do,
you’re nasty and sarcastic and-”
“Just a goddamn minute! Who-”
“And the least you can do is leave me alone, when I’m on a
bloody date!” she finished.
Jeremy looked furious. Making an obvious effort to control his
temper, he said through his teeth, “Okay, then. If not now, when?”
He had her there, and he knew it. In all fairness, she could not
refuse to talk to him at all. He let go of her, folded his arms across
his chest, and waited, his expression sardonic.
She took a deep breath, and bit the bullet. “The Oceans show,”
she told him. “I’ll see you there.”


108


He said, quietly enough, “I want your word on that, Zanna.”
She looked mutinous, but said, “I promise.”
“All right. Until then,” he said. Ironically he added, “Enjoy your
date.”
“I was,” she told him, still angry. He said, “Tell me something,
Zan. Do you like them married so you don’t have to make any
promises?”
Stung, she retaliated in kind. “Tell me something, Jeremy,” she
mimicked. “Do you have to work at being such an asshole, or does
it come naturally?”
He looked as though she had slapped him. No, worse, because
the time she had, it didn’t seem to faze him at all. They stared at
each other, and it was as though suddenly she could see behind his
anger, frustration and bad temper, and what was there was hurt and
longing, and it shocked her. “I - have to go,” she said, not very
steadily, and turned her back on him.
She rejoined Nick, who took a look at her and said, “Do you two
ever manage to not piss each other off?”
“Not often, no,” she answered. “What did he say to you?”
“Not much,” said Nick evasively. She decided she probably
didn’t want to know anyway. She said to him, “I’m sorry.”
He slipped a comforting arm around her, and said, “Don’t worry
about it, Z. Not your fault a psychopath’s fallen in love with you.”
Oddly, she felt like defending Jeremy. “He’s not as bad as
everyone makes out.”
Nick, watching her closely, gave a short whistle of astonishment.
“Good god, Zanna, don’t tell me this is a two way street?”
Zanna felt like she was breaking into little pieces. She was still
upset with Jeremy, but more so with herself for losing it with him,
and illogically, with Nick for noticing too much. For an awful
moment, she thought she was going to cry.
Nick’s arm tightened around her, and he said softly, “Oh, Zanna,
I am sorry.”
She turned her face against his shoulder, and his lips brushed
against her hair as he said, “ I’m beginning to understand.”
She said waveringly, “Good, you can explain it to me. Because I
haven’t a clue.”
He took her arm, but unlike Jeremy, he did it gently. “Let’s go


109


somewhere and talk,” he said. Also unlike with Jeremy, she felt a
measure of relief as she said, “Okay.”

Jeremy, having been yelled at some more by Maia, and lectured by
Kara on his lack of tact, consideration, and sensitivity towards
women, was moodily watching Zanna and Nick as they departed.
He knew he hadn’t handled it well; he almost never did.
He decided he hated Nick Tzezna. He knew this was
unreasonable, but he still hated him, mostly for being everything
Jeremy wasn’t. Nick’s easy manner and the way Zanna responded
to it, made Jeremy feel as stupid and jealous, homely and insecure as
your average sixteen year old geek.
Love was a great leveler, he thought. Made no difference if you
were a kid, or a millionaire rock star. A chump was still a chump.
Jeremy sighed. He was never going to wind up with the girl
unless he came up with a better strategy.



110









Chapter 12



Zanna and Matt met for coffee very early the morning of the Oceans
show. She was on edge, having gotten very little sleep the night
before. Even a six mile run at 5:30 a.m. hadn’t helped her to relax.
“I need some advice here,” she said, as they stood in line at a
beachside coffee bar. “I’m going to have to deal with Jeremy
today.”
Matt said, “Well, I think it’s about time, but what made you
decide now?”
“Because I said I’d talk to him, and anyway it’s driving me crazy.
I can’t keep this up – wondering where I’ll run into him next, not
knowing if he’s going to start a fight, kiss me, or act like my next
best friend. It’s nerve-wracking.”
They stepped up to the counter, and ordered – coffee for Matt,
chai for Zan. She continued, waiting for Matt to doctor his French
roast with cream, “I kept thinking he’d drop this, forget about it, go
on to someone else, but it’s been months.”
Matt agreed. “He’s persistent, all right.” He looked at Zanna.
She had on very tatty jeans and a black sweater. She wore no make
up, and he noticed that her bangs were uneven again – she had a
habit of chopping them off when they got in the way. She was, he
thought, completely beautiful. He had no trouble understanding
why Jeremy couldn’t forget her. He remembered Jeremy’s sarcastic
remark about Nick, that if he’d had sex with her, for sure he was in
love, and felt a sharp stab of envy towards Jeremy, who knew. Then
he thought that over, and did a mental revision. At least he, Matt,
got to be with her. Maybe they weren’t lovers, but he was sure as
hell closer to her than any other man. He wouldn’t want to trade


111


that, not for a one night stand.
“Beach?” he asked, and she nodded. They left the cafe and
crossed the boulevard. It was damp and gray, the common morning
fog effect. Not many people were electing to be on the beach, but
Zanna loved the ocean in any weather, and Matt loved watching her
revel in it.
They sat down on the sand, Zan kicking off her sandals and
digging her toes in. They sipped in silence for a moment, then she
said, “So what’s the best way to do this, do you think?”
“You mean, Jeremy?” She nodded. He said, thinking it over,
“Sex Gun’s sound check. You can get access, there’ll be people
around, and it’s a limited time frame, if what you want are
boundaries.”
“I do. Definitely. Although,” she added wryly, “It’s not like
having an audience ever seems to slow him down. I don’t think he
has any inhibitions.”
“Impaired edit function,” agreed Matt. “Are you afraid of him
Z?”
“Not of anything he might do to me physically. Of what he could
do to my head, yes, I am.” She stared out at the grayness of water
and sky.
Matt said slowly, “So, if you’re going to finally talk to him –
what’s your plan? What are you going to say?”
She admitted, “I haven’t got that far.”
“In all fairness, Zanna, you can’t just keep stringing him along.”
“I’m not!” she began indignantly, then paused. “Am I?’ she
asked. Matt just looked at her. She said in dismay, “Oh, drat, I kind
of am, aren’t I?” She groaned, and dropped her head onto her knees.
“This is hopeless,” she said.
Matt reached over and messed up her hair, before singing the
chorus to The Clash’s ‘Should I Stay or Should I Go?’
“Thanks a lot,” she told him. “That’s really helpful.”
He smiled at her affectionately. “You know what your problem
is?”
“If you say ‘fear of commitment’ I’ll smack you,” she warned
him.
He laughed. “That might be one of them, but it’s not what I was
thinking this time. No,” he continued, “the problem is that you and


112


Jeremy are way too much alike.”

The Oceans benefit was at an outdoor stadium, and it was
developing into the perfect day for the show. The morning was set
aside for sound checks, with the concert starting in the early
afternoon. Jump Cut was scheduled for the mid- afternoon slot,
considerably ahead of Sex Gun, who were closing the show. Spike
found out when Sex Gun’s sound check was, and Zanna, with Matt
along for preliminary moral support, went to find Jeremy. They
already under way. Matt, listening as they showed their access
passes and went into the tunnel leading to the stage, said, “Try
Dying.” Zanna said nothing: her stomach was in knots.
They were behind the stage, where a Sex Gun roadie halted them
until he took a good look at Zanna. Then he told them “Go around
to the left, the sightlines are better there.”
Matt gave Zanna a little push. “You’re on your own now,” he
said. She nodded, feeling slightly sick, and moved to where she
could see the stage but was hopefully unobtrusive. Her plan was to
catch Jeremy once the sound check was over, but unfortunately he
noticed her right away. Arik had already begun the intro to “Body
Language,” when Jeremy loped across the stage, leaving his
bandmates staring after him in confusion. Before Zanna realized
what he was doing, he caught her by the arm, and reached into his
hip pocket. Then, incredibly, he fastened one side of a pair of
handcuffs to her wrist. She stared at him in disbelief.
“I’m sorry about this,” he said, snapping the cuff to the lighting
truss. “But we really do have to talk, and unfortunately I don’t trust
you to stick around for it.”
Zanna looked from him to the cuff, wild eyed. “What are you
doing! You can’t… we don’t – we barely know each other!”
He grinned at her over his shoulder as he walked back onstage.
“Nice pun,” he called, and looked satisfied when her cheeks flushed
rosily.
Zanna gave the cuff a jerk, testing it, but that hurt so she let her
arm dangle from the truss instead. Matt wandered up just then, took
in the situation, and started to grin. She glared at him. “It isn’t
funny!” she snapped.
He tried unsuccessfully to straighten his face. “Z, I’m sorry, but


113


it is,” he said. “In a kinky kind of way. You know,” he went on,
“you gotta give the guy credit for ingenuity.” Matt shook his head,
half admiringly. Out on the stage, Sex Gun was surging through
“After the Hurricane.” Matt put his hands on Zanna’s shoulders,
gave them a little squeeze, and said, “Good luck.” Still grinning, he
bounded down the stairs, to watch from out front. Zanna yelled
“Traitor!” after him, but he just waved without looking back.
The crew were all giving her a wide berth, but a young woman
with short spiky platinum hair came up and stood next to her.
Eyeballing the handcuffs, she said, “Captive audience, huh?” and
giggled. Zan couldn’t think of any clever rejoinders, so she settled
for staring stonily out at the stage, where the music had stopped and
there seemed to be some dialogue going between tech crew and
band. She heard Arik call out “Try turning it up a notch,” and
watched Jeremy rock the mike stand back and forth between his
hands as he waited. All in all, Sex Gun seemed in an upbeat mood,
very loose and relaxed. In a way, Zanna envied them – they were
old hands at this, used to performing in front of huge crowds and
very comfortable with it. She, on the other hand, was nervous as
hell about Jump Cut’s festival debut.
The blonde offered, “I’m Zoë Travis. From Soundline?” She
started to hold out her hand, looked again at the cuffs, and shrugged.
“I suppose there’s no point in asking what this is about?”
“None whatsoever.”
“You’re Zanna from Jump Cut, right?”
Zanna stayed silent.
Zoë said, “Hey, don’t talk to me. I can print wild rumors
instead.”
“Just my luck,” said Zanna, through clenched teeth.
“Hey, kidding.”
They listened to the slow, eerie guitar intro to “I Will Find a
Way.” Zoë leaned closer to Zanna and said over the music, “So
you’re the one who broke up the Jeremy-Jaime Cage romance?”
“No comment.”
“And I hear he’s obsessed with some woman who won’t give him
the time of day – that would be you?”
“No comment,” Zanna repeated. It was hard to act dignified
when you were chained to a light tower.


114


“Okay,” said Zoë agreeably. “You want to tell me how you met
Jeremy?”
“Not particularly, no.”
Zoë said thoughtfully, “You know, you’d be better off going on
record with something. It’s not much good just saying ‘no
comment’ when Jaime Cage has been telling everyone that Jeremy
left her for, and I quote, that punk slut from Jump Cut.” She caught
Zanna’s startled sideways look, and said, “Oh yeah. You can thank
the woman scorned for that MusicTown article.” She went on, “But
by now, everyone’s heard the rumors, and you can bet you’re going
to be getting it from all sides. It’s just too juicy. Jeremy Kane in
love? Wild. Especially since you’re in the band that’s the flavor of
the month.”
Zanna felt like swearing. Instead, she said disbelievingly, “Punk
slut from Jump Cut?” She didn’t think her look was punk at all.
Zoë grinned. “Try saying it fast three times,” she said.
The band seemed to be done. Zanna’s heart started to imitate a
sledgehammer. She watched Jeremy leave the stage, stopping to
talk to a guy with a clipboard. Then he was walking towards her,
his eyes meeting hers steadily, his face hard to read.
She couldn’t breathe.
He stopped in front of her. “Go away, Zoë,” he said, his eyes not
leaving Zanna’s face. “This isn’t for public consumption.”
“Can I have an interview later?” dared Zoë.
“Yeah. Talk to Frank, he’ll work you in somewhere.”
Zoë was buoyant. “Excellent!” She gave Zanna a friendly look.
“Nice not talking to you,” she said cheekily, as she departed.
Jeremy looked down at Zanna, and his lips curved into a reluctant
smile. “You are such trouble,” he told her. “With a capital T and
that rhymes with Z…god, it’s good to see you.” He bent down and
kissed her, a slow, sweet, meltingly tender kiss.
Then he drew back, and said “Oh” and pulled something out of
his jeans to unlock the handcuffs. The circlet had left a red and
angry mark. Jeremy took her hand in both of his, and gently rubbed
her wrist, saying, “I’m sorry about doing it like this. Did I hurt
you?”
“I…no. Look, you wanted to talk, here I am. So talk,” she said,
a little desperately. He was absently cradling her hand against his


115


chest, and it was terribly distracting.
He was smiling down at her. “So impatient,” he said softly.
“You’ve been avoiding me for weeks, what’s the rush?”
He let her hand drop down, still lightly retaining possession of
her fingers. He brushed her hair back from her forehead, and traced
a line down her cheek. She raised her eyes to his face. The rather
beautiful mouth was still curved in a half smile, but his eyes, with
their strange inky color, were intent. His hand was against the side
of her head, warm and caressing. She felt a sudden rush of pure
desire; dizzying, hot, liquid. Unthinkingly she stepped forward, into
the heat of his body, and there was no chance for second thoughts as
his arms came around her with almost terrifying quickness. He half
lifted her off the ground, as his mouth came down on hers, urgent
and demanding this time. She stretched against him, her body
undulating in his arms, as hers slid over the solid muscle of his
shoulders. Oh god, he felt good, she thought. She kissed him back,
hard and deep, their bodies molded tightly together in a close
embrace…
Near by, someone coughed. Then cleared his throat
ostentatiously. Without looking up, Jeremy made a vague go-away
gesture with one hand, still kissing Zanna and holding her closely
against him with his other arm. Arik’s voice said apologetically,
“Sorry to interrupt the happy reunion, but you might want to know
that you’re being videotaped.”
They froze, more or less in midkiss. Jeremy tried to think if this
mattered. Not as much as having her in his arms, he decided. But
she was already pulling back, and reluctantly he let her go. Damn,
he thought. He looked closely at her, but she wasn’t meeting his
eyes. Damn, damn, damn, she looked ready to take off again. He
briefly considered the advantages of the handcuffs, regretfully
concluded he wasn’t ready to be branded an S & M weirdo by
RockNet, or MTV or whoever it was. Firmly he took her by the
hand, said “Excuse us,” pleasantly to the interested onlookers who
had somehow gathered unnoticed, and led her out back.
There was absolutely no privacy to be had. Members of various
bands, roadies, journalists and assorted hangers on meandered
around, in and out of trailers, some moving purposefully, some just
hanging out. Jeremy abandoned, not without a pang, a blissful


116


vision of the two of them finding a private corner somewhere and
passionately making love once again. Stealing a look at her face, he
thought he’d be doing good if he could even get her to talk.
He led her over to the steps of Sex Gun’s trailer. He could hear
Daniel inside, talking to someone quietly, and fingering a guitar, as
usual. He said, “Here. Sit,” rather peremptorily and she raised an
eyebrow, put her hands on her hips, and mimicked “Sit. Speak!” as
though she was talking to a dog. He grinned, and sat down on the
steps. She joined him, which he counted as a good sign.
They sat in silence for a moment, side by side. The steps weren’t
all that wide, his arm brushed against hers as he leaned forward with
his elbows on his knees, and they were both sharply aware of the
contact.
She spoke first. “This was your idea,” she reminded him.
He looked at her consideringly. “All right,” he said agreeably.
“I’ll get to the most immediate point.” He could feel her tension.
He leaned back, resting his arms on the step behind him, legs
stretched out comfortably, watching her closely. He said, “I want us
to work together. Specifically, I want to finish the song we started
that first night.”
He could have sworn a look of relief crossed her face. She sang
softly “Da, da da, no mystery, it’s in the chemistry.” She paused
and asked, “That one?”
“Yeah. I liked what we did so far. But we should finish it
together.”
She thought this over. “Well, okay,” she said. “Get a guitar.
And my notebook,” she added with a darkling look. “That’s what I
wrote it down in.”
“I know. In a minute. There’s something else.” He saw her eyes
flare apprehensively, and thought to himself, god damn it, that kid in
her band was right. She thought he was going to move on to the
more personal aspect of their acquaintance, he could see it. He felt
distinctly cheated, after that kiss. She was edging away from him,
gathering her long legs under her. Quickly he said, “I admit, I read
through your notebook. That Dark Angel song. Do you have a
melody for it?”
Puzzled, she stopped her stealthy movement, and shook her head.
“It’s one of those that was just words. I couldn’t hear anything.


117


Matt fooled around with it a little, but nothing ever came out right.”
“Can I have it, then?” He went on, “Because I can hear it, almost,
anyway, so if you don’t mind, I’d like to play around and see what I
come up with.”
She looked surprised. “Sure,” she said. “Have at it.” With a look
that was almost teasing, she went on, “Better still, record it, have a
mega hit, and send me lots of royalty checks so I can quit my day
job.”
He returned lightly, “Do my best for ya, Z,” and the atmosphere
eased perceptibly as they exchanged a smile.
Giving him a speculative look, she said, “There is something I’d
like to know.”
“Sure. Anything.”
“Are you why Jump Cut got this gig?”
“You got it because you’re a good band with a hit record who fit
the format,” he told her. “Yeah, I mentioned to the organizers that
they should check you out. But that’s all it was.”
Slowly she said, “Not that I don’t appreciate the career boost,
but…”
He cut her off. “That’s nice of you,” he said cheerfully.
“Everyone else seems to think I’m stalking you.”
“Are you?” she asked bluntly.
He glanced down at her. “I don’t have any evil intentions,” he
said. “I’m not going to lie to you – I fell for you hard and fast that
night, and I still haven’t recovered from it. But I understand that
you’re in a different place. I don’t have to like it, but I can accept
that.”
Unhappily, she said haltingly, “I can’t…I mean, you…my life is
complicated right now, I don’t know-” she broke off, biting her lip.
Jeremy said gently, “Look, it’s okay. You don’t want to go there,
it’s all right.” He left out any reference to her recent greeting with
an effort. “But it’s not often that you come across someone who
you can write music with, not the way we can. There’s some kind
of magic there, Zanna. We’d be crazy to let that go, just because we
slept together and you think it was a horrible mistake.”
She looked even more distressed. “I didn’t mean it like that. It’s
not that I don’t – oh hell!” She blew upward, ruffling her bangs, and
closed her eyes. Then she opened them, drew a deep breath, and


118


twisted sideways to face him on the steps. Surprisingly, she took
hold of his hand, and gripped it tightly. She said, “Okay, I really
sort of hate this whole devastating honesty trip you’re on, but maybe
it’s for the best. I don’t know what place it is that I’m in, all right?
I don’t know if that night was the best thing, or the worst thing, that
I’ve ever done. Sometimes, I don’t know if I love you or hate you.
And then I think, my god, I hardly know him!”
“That could be remedied,” he pointed out.
She disregarded this. “All I know is that ever since that stupid
MTV thing, my life has turned into this crazy rock and roll
rollercoaster, and I can barely keep up with it. I look at you, and on
one hand you’re someone I’m drawn to, and on the other I see
someone who is everything I want to leave behind.” There was a
raggedness in her voice as she added, “I’ve had more than enough
self-destruction to last me a lifetime.”
Carefully, he said, “People do change, Z. But you won’t know
without giving it a chance.”
She looked away from him. “There are other things, too.”
He thought, like Nick Tzezna? Like your lead guitar player? but
kept those thoughts to himself. Instead, he said aloud, “None of that
sounds to me like a reason why we can’t play music together.”
She was silent. He found he was almost holding his breath.
Then she said, “So get your guitar.”



119









Chapter 13



Arik and Johnny arrived back at the trailer to be greeted with an
unlikely sight: Jeremy and Zanna Martin, sitting on the steps, he
with an acoustic guitar, she with a notebook balanced on her knee.
They were half singing, half talking the lines as Jeremy played, then
breaking off as she said, “That A chord doesn’t work there.”
“Yeah, okay. How about-” He did a simple but catchy
progression.
“Mmm-again.” He obliged. She was leaning forward, her head
dropped, eyes closed, rocking slightly. Her lips moved as she
framed the words with the music. Her eyes snapped open, and she
smiled and said, “Yes.”
Jeremy smiled back at her warmly, but all he said was, “From the
top, then,” and started playing again. They were both singing,
barely audibly at first, eyes locked, their voices growing stronger
and more confident as they got into the rhythm of it. Arik noticed
how close they were sitting, Zanna sideways on the step with her
crossed legs up against Jeremy’s thigh, her hand resting casually on
his knee. They got to the end of what they’d done so far, looking
mutually pleased, and Zanna started writing in her notebook.
Johnny said with interest, “That sounds pretty good. What is it?”
Jeremy answered, “Something that’s been a long time coming,”
and Johnny said, “Play it again.”
Jeremy said to Zanna, “You do the verses solo, and I’ll come in
on the chorus,” and she nodded.
They played it through at a faster tempo this time, and then
Daniel opened the trailer door and said “That’s pretty good,” and
they all laughed. Johnny was just saying they should set up inside,


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when Arik thought of something. He asked Zanna, “Aren’t you
playing after Bliss?”
“That’s right.” She looked enquiring.
“Because if I’m not mistaken, they’ve been playing for at least
twenty minutes already.”
“Oh!” She slid off the step, saying, “My band must be having a
coronary!”
Johnny said easily, “Oh, relax. Bliss does the longest goddamn
encores,” and Zanna laughed at that.
Daniel said, “Come back after your show and we could work out
more of an arrangement for that song.”
Arik said, “Give the girl a break, Dan, not everyone wants to play
all night the way you do.” He added in an aside to Zan, “But really,
we should all get together soon, okay?”
Jeremy put his guitar aside, stood up and stretched lazily. He
remarked, “Well, Z, looks like by popular vote, this one goes to Sex
Gun. Jump Cut can have first choice next time, if you like.”
Her expression was rueful. “Probably a moot point,” she
answered somewhat obscurely. “But this sounds like a Sex Gun
song anyway. You’ll have to do the vocals, though, your fans will
fall down dead if they hear a female singer on a Sex Gun release.”
“Do ‘em good, expand their horizons,” Johnny told her. She
grinned, but said, “I really have to run, now.”
Jeremy’s hand shot out and caught her wrist. “Are you leaving
tonight?” he asked. She nodded, and said, “We start a short campus
tour tomorrow. But first, we’re going to catch you guys closing the
show.” She grinned. “So make it good, huh?” She saw the
question in his eyes, and said softly, “I’ll see you before we leave.”
She took off, literally, breaking into a run as she headed for the
stage. They could hear Kelly Ross, Bliss’ lead singer, calling
“Thank you! We love you, California!” in his English accent, and
they watched appreciatively as Zanna’s stride lengthened and she
adroitly avoided a collision with one of The Followers, who swore
at her. She ignored him, and turned into the cavernous entrance to
the stadium, still going full speed.
Johnny said, “I like that girl.”
Daniel said, “That song needs a bridge after the third verse.”
Arik looked at Jeremy and said, “Well, that sounded promising.”


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He wasn’t talking about the song.
Jeremy was still gazing off in the direction she’d gone. He was
feeling a weird mix of emotions – the creative high that comes with
doing work you know is good, delirious joy because she had said
she’d see him later, and underlying anxiety – how was he going to
make this work? Even without the complications she had referred to
(which he took to mean Nick and/or Matt) they were both likely to
be on tour for months, they were based in different parts of the
country, she obviously still had a lot of reservations about him
personally….
Arik, who after all knew him of old, had a fairly shrewd idea of
what was going on in his head. Clasping Jeremy’s shoulder with a
broad, tanned hand, he said comfortingly, “We’ll talk to whoever’s
in charge of the Big Day Out schedule. What’s one more band, for
them? We’ll talk to the label. We’ll send “Taste the Pain” to every
radio station in Australia if we have to.”
Daniel said supportively, “And if we get her to jam with us, she’ll
get to know you better.”
And Johnny said cheerfully, “We can always take out a contract
on Nick Tzezna.”
Tanner appeared then and said, “Aren’t you supposed to be
talking to VH1?” There was a collective groan from the band – it
was one thing to sit down with Kurt Loder, but the other music
channel’s interviewers tended to be young and either irritatingly
cocky, or equally annoyingly star stuck.
Daniel asked, “Do we all have to go?” just as their press officer, a
harried individual named Frank whose thankless job it was to try
and make sure Sex Gun showed up for interviews on schedule and
didn’t commit any indictable offenses, hustled up. Hearing the
question, he said, “Jeremy does, and at least one other.”
“Who’s got a quarter,” said Johnny.
“I did the last one, it’s someone else’s turn,” said Arik.
Daniel said to Johnny, “If you do this one, I’ll do MTV.”
Johnny said frankly, “That’s a rip. MTV’ll be Kurt, I don’t mind
Kurt.”
“But it’ll take longer,” argued Daniel.
“We have to go now,” said Frank. He dug a quarter out of his
pocket, used to Sex Gun squabbles, and said, “Call it.”


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Daniel and Johnny both said “Heads” simultaneously, and started
laughing. Daniel said, “Paper, scissors, rock” and he was scissors to
Johnny’s paper. Johnny said hopefully, “Best two out of three?” but
Arik intervened and ordered “Beat it!” and the drummer reluctantly
went with Jeremy and Frank.
Jeremy said, “I don’t know what you’re bitching about, I have to
do a lot more of this crap than anyone else,” and Johnny retorted,
“What you get for being the frontman.”
Frank said, “You’ll be asked about ‘Hurricane’ and the tour
schedule,” and Jeremy remarked “What tour schedule? I haven’t
seen anything except Australia in January.”
“It’s not all final, that’s why,” Frank told him. “But it looks like
some dates in Europe next month, a break, Australia for Big Day
Out, with some solo shows in Sydney and Melbourne, then the US
tour.”
Jeremy said ominously, “There had better be a decent interval
between the Southern Hemisphere stint and beginning the US tour.
I’m not doing any of that three months straight on the road crap.”
Frank sighed a little. Everyone in the Sex Gun machinery had
learned the hard way that the band had final approval over every
detail of their careers. Despite their wild reputation, they were
remarkably savvy in many ways. Jeremy had always paid attention
to the business side of being an entertainer, and he could be
inflexible about many issues.
Frank glanced sideways at the lead singer’s rather stern profile,
and said, slightly nervously, “You’ll probably get some questions
about your…um, personal life, as well.”
“Christ,” muttered Jeremy, “you’d think they’d get sick of it after
three fucking years.” He threw his head back and yelled at the top
of his lungs “I’m off smack! ” which drew some startled looks from
passersby. Frank started to say “Actually, that’s not what-” when a
production assistant spied them and shepherded them over to a
temporary set. Another assistant pushed them into canvas director’s
chairs, and clipped microphones to their t shirts. Someone noticed
that Jeremy’s shirt read “Fuck Proposition 89” and there was some
dithering until he finally took it off and put it on again backwards.
The interviewer, young, blonde, female, had a distinct attitude.
Sometimes they flirted, sometimes they drooled, and sometimes


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they acted like they were on 60 Minutes. This one was of the latter
persuasion – J-school grad, diagnosed Jeremy, somewhat amused
because she seemed very disposed to dislike them.
Her first question was innocuous enough – how did they become
involved with the Oceans Benefit?
Jeremy fielded that one, saying that as Southern California
natives and regular surfers, shoreline quality was a cause dear to
their hearts, and they welcomed the chance to help.
She came back with the expected question about “Hurricane” –
how did they feel about the overwhelmingly positive reaction it was
getting?
Johnny gave the stock answer: we think it’s the best thing we’ve
done so far, very satisfying to be reaching a lot of people, blah, blah.
Her follow up was more incisive. Crisply she said to Jeremy, “A
lot of people were surprised to hear you were still alive, much less
still together as a band.”
He replied blandly, “Well, I think Mark Twain addressed that
best, and I can’t really say it any better.” She gave him a narrow
look, and said, “You’re almost as well known for substance abuse as
you are for music. How are you holding up, being on tour again?”
Jeremy said, “Fine. Thank you for your concern,” and bared his
teeth in a way that only vaguely resembled a smile.
She was persistent, though. “Does that mean you’re clean now?”
It sounded funny, because she seemed so prissy and rather obviously
not comfortable with drug nomenclature, and Jeremy couldn’t help
it, he started to laugh. He said, “Well, at the moment I’m kind of
hot and sweaty to be honest, because we’ve been hanging around
here for most of the day-” and she said, between her teeth, “I meant,
are you using-” and Jeremy held out his arms and said, “You want to
check?” Then he said, “Of course, some people shoot up in places
where it doesn’t show so much,” and he stood up facing her,
unzipped his jeans and started to slide them down his hips.
The interviewer was shocked speechless, and her face was going
red, Jeremy noticed, pleased. Catching Frank’s appalled expression,
he looked straight into the camera, gave a dazzling smile, and said,
“Just kidding.” He hitched his jeans back into place and sat down
again. Calmly, he told her, “The only drug habit I’ve got now is
caffeine, but that’s one thing that I definitely use more of when


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we’re on tour.”
She had recovered somewhat, and was going for the jugular.
“You’ve written some very beautiful and sensitive love songs,” she
began.
“Thank you,” interjected Jeremy, grinning.
She went on, “But you have a reputation for generally regarding
women as sex objects-”
He interrupted. “Look, if all you want to talk about is sex and
drugs, this is going to be one short interview,” he said sardonically.
“Because I haven’t done one in years, and the other in months. So
maybe we should go back to the rock and roll part of the equation.”
She stared at him, working it out. “You’re telling me you’re off
drugs and celibate?” she said disbelievingly.
“Yeah, that’s about it,” he confirmed.
“Why?”
“Well, you know, heroin’s nasty stuff when you come right down
to it…”
“Not that! You’re known for going through women the way
some people use Kleenex-”
Jeremy said, “ I definitely think that’s overstated, considering the
last relationship I was in spanned over a year.”
She said flatly, “So what’s changed?”
He said easily, “What’s different now is I know who I want to be
with. At the moment, it’s not really possible, but unless I find out
there’s no way it’s going to happen, I’d rather wait than be with
anyone else.”
She said, “I take it you’re talking about-” At a warning look from
both of them, she finished, “the same woman you recently referred
to as ‘nirvana’?”
Jeremy said, “Yeah, and I should probably just shut up now-”
“Amen,” muttered Johnny.
“Because I was really in trouble with her over that,” he
continued. “But I’m not going to lie to you, or anyone. You ask me
about women, well, I’m in love with one person, and she’s the only
one I want, and I hope before too long we end up in the same place.”
She said, “Isn’t it true that she’s romantically linked to at least
one other rock star?”
Jeremy said shortly, “Things change.”


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“And in the meantime, you’re just going to save yourself for
her?” She sounded sarcastic, and Jeremy was beginning to get
annoyed.
“You got it,” he said sharply. “At this point in my life, being
with a woman isn’t about fucking my brains out. It’s about
connecting with someone on all levels, emotionally, creatively,
psychically, cognitively, physically, and yes, sexually. This is the
first person with whom I’ve felt that complete connection, but so far
the logistics of our situations are such that we haven’t been able to
explore it. But it’s a rare and magical thing, and well worth waiting
for. She’s the most incredible person I’ve ever known, and I would
like to be her partner in every sense of the word. I love her, okay?
It’s as simple, and as complicated, as that. I love her in ways you
can’t begin to imagine. And in the meantime, given how I feel
about her, it’s no hardship to keep my tongue out of anyone else’s
mouth, and my-” He finished the sentence in such anatomically
explicit terms that the interviewer’s jaw dropped and she went beet
red. The camera and sound crew were grinning hugely, and the
assistant remarked to the producer “Good thing it’s not live.”
Jeremy unclipped the mike and crossed the makeshift set in a
couple of long strides. Johnny said politely to the interviewer, “Nice
chatting with you,” and followed suit.
“Well, that went really well,” he remarked as they walked away.
Frank was speechless. Jeremy said, “Look on the bright side. They
can’t use it – they’re not allowed to put those words on the air,” but
he was feeling a bit uneasy, all the same.
“You’d better track down Zanna,” Johnny told him. “You’ve got
some pre-emptive explaining to do.”
Jeremy was beginning to kick himself mentally. “How bad is it?”
he asked. “I mean, she already knows how I feel about her.”
“Doesn’t mean she wants to hear about it on TV,” pointed out
Johnny. He took Jeremy by the arm, and steered him towards the
stadium entrance. “You need to talk to her before anyone else
does,” he said. “It won’t be as bad if she hears it from you.”
“Oh, fuck,” said Jeremy despairingly. “I can’t believe I screwed
up this fast.”
“Record time, I’d say,” agreed Johnny.
They flashed their All Access ids at the Security guy and went


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backstage. They could hear Jump Cut clearly now, doing “Love on
Credit.” Jeremy continued, as they threaded through the equipment
and people littering the stage access area, “You know what the
problem is? Nothing ever mattered this much. I never thought
about – being careful of someone, before this.”
“No practice,” suggested Johnny.
“Yeah. Christ, I kind of suck at it, don’t I?”
Johnny said, “You’ll improve. Be honest with her. She’s a very
sharp girl.”
“I know,” said Jeremy, not altogether happily.
They got to the stairs going onstage, where a member of Jump
Cut’s tech crew, a burly guy with a shaved head and watchful eyes,
recognized them. Nodding towards the side where various pieces of
sound equipment were set up and being monitored, he said, “You
can watch from there if you want.” At least, that what’s they
thought he said, you couldn’t actually hear over the music at this
range. They nodded their thanks, and moved around to get a better
view.
Jump Cut were sky high on adrenaline and noise, and playing
their hearts out. Zanna and Matt were racing through one of the
parallel leads they did, with the bass and drums sustaining the
rhythm. Then Zanna was back at the mike:

Dream of me deep in the night/wrapped in your desire
Think of me when morning wakes/with every nerve on fire

Her voice was uncanny, thought Jeremy. Nice range, and interesting
inflections, but it was more than that. It was as though her words
pushed their way right inside you.
The next song was the slower “Life is Triage,” one of Jeremy’s
favorites. As Matt played a lead, Zanna glanced their way, and
smiled. Matt saw it, and turned to look. Seeing Jeremy, he nodded
unsmilingly. Johnny said in Jeremy’s ear, “What’s the story there?”
“Fuck if I know,” said Jeremy. They both clapped and whistled
as Jump Cut finished the song. The crowd was loving it – the noise
was deafening. Jump Cut wore universally big smiles as they got
ready to do their last number.
Zanna stepped up to the mike, and said “Thank you,” and even


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that brought on a new frenzy of cheering. She turned sideways then,
looked right at them, and said, still into the mike, “This one’s for
you, Jeremy.”
His heart did a funny sideways leap, because public
acknowledgement was a long way from where they’d started the
day. Then he really hoped Jump Cut wasn’t closing with “Love is a
4 Letter Word.”
He didn’t recognize the opening – it was just Zanna’s guitar
initially. She was playing quickly, the chords almost tripping over
each other. Then Matt, punctuating the end of her progressions with
a quick slash and crash. They jammed for a moment, totally into it,
facing each other, feeding off each other, then Matt turned away,
and on cue, the bass came in, adding an underlying urgency to the
two guitars and finally the drummer hit it hard, and the song became
recognizably, “Girlfriend.”
Johnny started laughing, and smacked Jeremy on the back.
Jeremy shook his head ruefully as Zan shot him a wicked look, and
opened with:

There’s something about me you gotta comprehend
I don’t want to be anyone’s girlfriend.

Her voice’s husky timbre was just on the edge of harsh as she
continued:

It’s just that the status seems kind of second class
Somewhere between your mother and another piece of ass.

She sang the second verse straight to the audience, setting off a
wave of frantic pogoing. She did the erotically charged third verse
focused mostly on the microphone right in front of her, with a big
grin for Matt as she finished and they moved into the instrumental
bridge. It was fast and they were overflowing with a kind of
joyously raw energy, playing for the sheer fun of it. Jeremy
watched how the muscles in her arm flexed as she played, the ripple
across her taut tummy, bared by the now trademark cutout t-shirt as
she moved, the curve of her hips, the lovely line of her gracefully
long neck. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, he


128


thought, and he ached with wanting her.
As if she’d heard his thoughts, she turned a little, and looked at
him as she sang the next lines:

I could be the one you call, when you’re feeling low
We could take a walk when there’s nowhere else to go

Her face to the audience once more:

You can stop at my place, I don’t mind
I can be your pal -

And then she took both hands off her guitar, caught the mike, swung
it around. With only the bass playing in the background, her eyes
meeting Jeremy’s across the stage, her face alive with amusement,
and the charged up energy of performing, Zanna’s voice dropped
into a low, sensual near-growl:

I’ll be your partner in crime.

Given Jeremy’s history and the rumors about the two of them, most
of the audience seemed to get the joke and an audible whoop went
up. Zanna’s crew were laughing, as was Johnny. It was great
stagecraft, sexy, sassy, and in-your-face in a manner worthy of
Jeremy himself. He knew perfectly well that in the heat and energy
of performing, inhibitions had no place, and you did things you
wouldn’t consider elsewhere – but still. She was, for now, accepting
him as being somewhere in her life, and he was loving it.
The band did the last verse fast and hard, and finished with
vocals and all four instruments ending together, cut off so sharply
the sudden silence was almost shocking. Then Matt called out
simply “Good bye,” and Zanna blew a kiss to the audience, and they
were off stage quickly, leaving a delirious crowd behind.
“God damn, they are good,” said Johnny.
They hadn’t been scheduled for an encore, but since the crowd
was still going crazy, one of the promoters approached Matt and
made a gesture back toward the stage. Jump Cut gathered around
quickly and conferred, then headed back out to deafening noise.


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They were all laughing, shaking their heads, clearly somewhat
amazed by their reception. Zanna had ditched her guitar, and Matt
began a solo, which was slow, plaintive, and utterly gripping. The
stadium went so quiet that his every note sounded clearly.
The song was “Rue de Misery,” a change of pace number that let
Zanna stretch her voice. She sang with aching clarity of love left
behind, of feelings from which you can’t run, and every word
seemed to burn straight into Jeremy’s head. He knew suddenly what
it was like to be a fan, something he’d never really thought about –
to hear a performer and feel this peculiarly intimate connection, as
though it was being played just for you – and yet he knew that this
song had nothing to do with him, that she had written it long before
they’d met.
They finished with a shortened, punchy cover of the Chili
Peppers “Suck my Kiss” with Matt and Zanna at their most
provocative. And then it was over, and they exited rapidly with a
final “Thank you!”
They were laughing, hugging, high as kites after this, their first
showing in front of a big crowd. Their spirits were contagious; even
the setup crew for the next act were smiling with them. The bass
player swept Zanna off her feet, and spun her around, depositing her
right by Jeremy. Off balance, she reeled against him, and he caught
her arms to steady her. She laughed up at him, inviting him and all
the world to share in her delight. He was smiling back at her,
remembering what it was like, that first big concert high, when she
put her arms around his waist and hugged him. It was a quick,
spontaneous gesture on her part, and it took his breath away.
They moved away from the stage and back to where the dressing
rooms were. Mass confusion reigned as too many people were trying
to do too many things in too small a space. Jeremy was
contemplating the impossibility of having any conversation under
these conditions, much less relating his latest fuck-up, when Zanna
caught his hand and pulled him out of the stream of traffic.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
Jeremy was nonplussed. “Huh?”
Her eyebrows knit. “Something’s up, right?”
Shit, he thought, how’d she know that. She waited. He couldn’t
think where to begin. He looked at her, helplessly. He was really


130


hating the idea of wrecking her happy, relaxed mood.
She was standing close to him, her face raised to his, her eyes
holding his gaze. Something had changed between them, he
realized. She might not be ready to commit, but she wasn’t running
away from him, either.
He hoped he wasn’t about to change that.

Zanna was studying his expression, which was serious and rather
unhappy. Working together earlier, playing as he watched her just
now, had made her feel closer to him. He seemed more like her
lover of that first night, than the almost-adversary he’d been for the
past few weeks. She wondered at his bleak look. It can’t be that
bad, she thought…
On the other hand, this was Jeremy Kane. It probably could be
that bad.
She said, “So – just tell me this – are you using again, in trouble
with the law, or just found out you’re HIV?”
He said, “God, no!” shocked.
“Okay,” she said agreeably. “That covers the worst I can think
of, so don’t look so grim. Anything else, surely we can deal with.”
He felt a rollercoaster rush of emotion – delirious joy at her use
of “we,” warmth at her calm acceptance, lurking anxiety because she
didn’t know yet (and she had really been pissed about the
MusicTown debacle).
She saw the play of expressions across his dark countenance.
Almost without volition she raised her hand, placing it gently
against the sharply planed cheekbone. He was taken aback, at a loss
for words – a side of Jeremy Kane she hadn’t seen before. He was
usually so sure of what he wanted. She was used to the aggressive
determination, the easy confidence he had onstage, the in-your-face,
take it or leave it attitude. It came as something of a surprise to see
that he could be unsure and tentative as well. She felt an odd
sensation as she looked at him now – a kind of almost tenderness,
very different from the white hot heat he usually generated in her at
close range.
Her hand slipped around to the back of his neck, and she pulled
his head down and kissed him. Very softly, very slowly.
He was almost too stunned to respond. He was never, ever,


131


going to figure her out. He kissed her back, a little more deeply.
Her arms slid up around his neck. Against the wall in the crowded
hallway, they had become their own small island. A part of his
brain, remembering all too well her reaction to the MusicTown
interview, was aware that this might be his last chance with her in
such a quiescent mood. He ran his hands up her back, under her
shirt, feeling the hollow where her spine lay, the narrowness of her
waist, the delicate swell of her ribs. He noted in a mental aside that
she was really thin, too thin, and filed it as something to worry about
later. But for now, his hands were still exploring, sliding over her
flat tummy, slipping just inside the folded down waistband of her
cargo pants where the heel of his hand fit into the hollow of her
hipbone, and his fingers wrapped over the curve of her hip, literally
giving him a handle on her. He pulled her close against him, and
she stretched in that sinuous motion he remembered so well, that
came to her as naturally as breathing. She was kissing him again,
her mouth teasing, sharing. He forgot they were in a public place
and he had to tell her something she was going to hate. His world
added up to nothing more than her touch, her taste, the feel of her
body under his hands.
She broke away first, pulling back so that they were staring at
each other, both breathing a little hard, both a little wide eyed. Then
she said, rather breathlessly, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to start this.”
He put his arms loosely around her, because maintaining the
contact seemed important, and said without preamble, “I mouthed
off in another stupid interview.”
She wasn’t tracking yet. “What?”
“That’s what I had to tell you,” he said. “Before someone else
blindsides you with it, or you see it on VH1.”
“You said something about me? On camera?”
“Yeah. Sorry,” he said.
“How bad?” she asked warily.
He said cautiously, “As far as your part goes, not that bad-”
“As bad as that stupid nirvana remark?”
“No, not nearly, I don’t think.” He paused. “You know, with
MusicTown, it wasn’t like I meant to talk about you. But it was
right after I met you, and I was excited, and so – happy, I guess, that
it kind of spilled over. I didn’t mean to be disrespectful; sex with


132


you was this beautiful thing that I’d never had before, and I was so
blown away by you, I just wasn’t thinking.”
She looked like this was maybe way more than she wanted to
know, and she didn’t say anything. Jeremy ploughed on, doggedly.
“This time, I didn’t really say much about you. But she brought up
the drug thing, and I’m so sick of it, that I was kind of rude, and then
she said I used women like Kleenex and basically called me a slut,
which is really unfair these days-” he paused, and Zan prompted
“And ?”
No way around it, he decided, given that it was on tape. “I told
her far from it, I was waiting for you to decide if you wanted me or
not,” he said flatly.
She looked stunned. He went on quickly “Look, I know I said I
won’t press you for anything you don’t want to give, and I meant
that. But I can’t help how I feel, Zanna. There is something
between us, and for me it’s like there’s you, and no one else.” His
voice was almost inaudible as he finished, “And I wish it was that
way for you, but…”
They were both silent for a moment, just looking at each other.
Then she said, “I don’t get why you talk to them about this stuff.”
He shrugged. “I’ve always been fairly open with the media,” he
said. “Because they’re going to talk, no matter what, and in the end
it’s easier to cut down on the rumors and speculation. I’d rather get
it up front.”
“Here it is – deal with it,” she said, with a small smile.
“Yeah. Something like that.” He went on, slowly, “It’s hard for
me, Zanna, when I don’t know what you want, where we’re at.”
She looked away. “I don’t have any answers. I don’t know what
to do.”
He felt like suggesting a few things, getting rid of Nick Tzezna
for one, but with considerable restraint, said only, “Can you at least
tell me this? Does that mean you haven’t completely ruled me out?”
She was silent for a moment. Then she said, very quietly, “Yes.”
“Yes, you haven’t, or yes, you have?”
“Yes, I-oh now, you’ve got me confused! I mean, I can’t rule
anything in, or out, at the moment, all right?”
“Yeah. Okay,” he said, thinking well, that’s something.
She surprised him then, by hugging him as she said, “Look, don’t


133


worry about your latest stupid interview, all right? I’ll give you a
‘get out of jail free’ card on this one.”
He said, “So you’re still going to talk to me, even after reporters
have been shoving microphones in your face and asking how you
feel about my declaration of undying and unrequited love?”
She said honestly, “In all fairness, I have to say I’m not exactly
blameless this time. What I did onstage just now….”
His arms tightened around her. “I loved it,” he told her.
“But it wasn’t what you’d call discreet. And neither is making
out in hallways.” She sighed. “Oh hell, Jeremy, maybe you’re
right. Maybe you just have to do your own thing, and the hell with
the consequences.” She added wryly, “I’m trying to come to terms
with this whole business of suddenly having my life become public
property.”
“It isn’t, not really, you know,” he said. “All that stuff – it’s
surface. It’s not you.”
“Mmm.” She disengaged from his arms, and reluctantly he let
her go. She said, “What time do you go on?”
“Around 9:30 or 10, I think.” She appeared to be deep in
thought. She said ruefully, “I wish we had more time. This is so
difficult-” she broke off.
“I know.”
She went on, “But listen, you were right, about the music side of
it, I mean. We should keep working together, any chance we get. I
don’t want to give that up, either.”
“Well.” He smiled at her. “It’s a start. We finally got something
resolved.”
“Right.” She smiled back at him. “So – play one for me tonight,
Jeremy. I’ll be listening from somewhere.” She stood on her toes,
kissed him lightly, and said, “See you around.” Then she spun
away, and threaded her way quickly through the hall. Johnny
materialized next to him, and they watched as she caught up to Matt
and David near the entrance. As she drew alongside them, Matt
dropped an arm companionably across her shoulders. They walked
a few steps, then she suddenly turned around, walking backwards,
his arm now more or less over her chest. Across the length of the
hall, she looked back at Jeremy, and called out “Hey! it’s not – not
exactly! unrequited.” She flashed a smile, turned around again


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without missing a step, Matt’s arm still around her. Hers slipped
around his waist, and they exited the stadium that way, entwined and
moving together with casual familiarity.
“Earth to Jeremy,” said Johnny dryly. “We do have a show to
put on tonight, you know.”
Jeremy let out his breath. “She confuses the hell out of me,” he
remarked.

Zanna had hoped to get through the night without having to
comment on Jeremy’s interview, but later she and Matt were
ambushed by RockNet on their way to the main stage to watch Sex
Gun.
In response to the reporter’s question, she said, “You know, I
haven’t actually seen it, and Jeremy didn’t go into much detail-”
The reporter interrupted, bemused. “Jeremy told you about it.”
Zanna had already thought out her lines. What Jeremy had said,
about cutting out the speculation, had struck her as making some
sense, and her strategy now was pre-emptive. She arranged her
features in an expression of tolerant amusement, and said, “Sure. I
know you’d all like this to be a lot more sensational, but in fact we
just haven’t had a chance to spend much time together. We have
worked together a little, and we’re planning on doing more of that in
the future, but otherwise it’s a wait-and-see situation.”
“So you don’t mind that in the past he’s referred to you as some
kind of sexual nirvana, and that he compared you to a drug habit?”
Zanna laughed. “The thing about Jeremy is he’s uninhibited and
very forthright, and he has no hesitation in putting it all out there.
Sure, there are times when you wish he’d just shut up, but that’s
who he is, and it’s a big part of what makes him such a great
songwriter, and you gotta love him for that.” She smiled, adding,
“And speaking of, we really want to catch their show, so if you
don’t mind…”
“Thanks, Zanna,” the reporter said.

Matt asked her, as they headed for the stage, “And do you love him,
Z?”
She was silent, then she said, “I don’t much like that term.”
“Just another four letter word,” he agreed. “The question is,


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which one?”
She looked sideways at him. “Do you mind?”
“About Jeremy?” She nodded. “Sometimes,” he said. “Others, I
think it might be the best thing for you.” He stopped abruptly, and
pulled her around to face him. “But I still think you’re wrong about
us.”
“Do you?” Her eyes were serious as they met his. “I’ve always
thought we’re too close as friends to screw it up by being lovers.”
“Does that mean you don’t think you can be friends with
Jeremy?”
She said honestly, “It means I have no idea what that could be.”
She hesitated, and said quietly, “But I do love you, Matt. You know
that, don’t you?”
He nodded. “I love you, too, now and forever. But I still wish,
sometimes, that it could be different.”
“Sometimes, so do I,” she answered.
They found a spot to lurk on the edge of the crowd, where
Security let them inside the barrier. “We could go up on the side of
the stage, like they did,” he suggested.
“Let’s start out here,” she said. “We can move up later.”
Their timing was good – just then the stage went dark and the
crowd stirred with anticipation. Arik’s bass began the thundery
intro to “After the Hurricane” and as blue lights backlit the stage,
Daniel da Silva’s guitar added an effect like rising wind, and the
storm broke with a drum roll and clash of cymbals. Then Jeremy
was bounding to the front of the stage, catching up the mike stand
and spinning around as he let out the trademark howl that sent
shivers down your spine. It was a song that hit you up front with its
power, then tempered like a thunderstorm changing to falling rain
for the chorus, and moved into a kind of controlled chaos from
there. Zanna had thought it was a great song the first time she heard
it on the radio, before she had ever known who Jeremy Kane was,
and hearing it live she was struck anew by how well Sex Gun
performed it.
“Hurricane” led right into “Body Language,” one of their hard
rocking numbers with the sexual suggestiveness they had always
been known for. Jeremy stripped off his shirt halfway through,
tossing it into the crowd, which was one big moshing mess. Then it


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was “Troubles of my Own,” the first single from ATH.
They were consummate professionals, thought Zanna. They
played together with the ease of long familiarity, somehow both
tight and freewheeling. Their performance was full of palpable
energy, as they moved across the stage, using the entire space and
keeping their audience riveted.
And Jeremy was nothing short of incredible. Zanna had been
somewhat distracted the first time she had seen them, but now she
was able to watch and appreciate what made them such an enduring
phenomenon on the alt rock scene. They were all exceedingly
proficient, but had highly individualized styles. Jeremy was the
ultimate frontman, his constant motion mesmerizing, his charisma
magnetic, his vocal style changing subtly with the material. On
“Troubles” you got an undertone of heartache, while on “Come
Hard” his voice was harsh and raw, and watching him it was easy to
believe this was the man who’d been to prison twice.
The song ended abruptly, and the stage went dark. Then a spot
opened on Daniel as he began the eerie solo that led into “I Will
Find a Way.” Just before the rest came in, Jeremy said clearly,
“This is for Zanna” and she felt it like a shot to the heart, as he
began to sing.
Matt said in her ear, “Not subtle, is he,” referring to the lyrics,
and she shook her head, half laughing, half choked up with emotion.
Matt saw the shine of tears in her eyes as she gazed at the stage,
completely caught up in the song.
It was as though a movie of what they’d been through was
playing in her head as she listened to him. Watching him onstage,
she was seeing in her mind’s eye the way he had looked at her that
first night - his sharply focused interest as they talked, the warmth
and affection that came later, the hurt and anger of the next morning.
She was remembering the Shell Club, the frustration in his eyes
when Nick and Andy interrupted them. San Francisco, where he
had kissed her, and she had hit him. The breakfast with Kaoru and
Arik, those moments when he had felt like a friend, the ones where
he had been anything but. She was reliving the day just over, with
all its ups and downs.
She heard him now, his voice low and intense on the line “I will
be forever in you,” and she thought, you already are, and it hurt, and


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scared her, and yet it made her feel so incredibly alive at the same
time. Looking at him onstage tossing his shaggy dark hair back in a
characteristic gesture, she felt anticipation mixed with a thrill of
fear: wherever it was they might be headed, she somehow knew it
wasn’t going to be an easy trip.
As the song ended, she looked at Matt and jerked her head
toward the stage. Nodding in comprehension, he caught her hand
and cleared a way through the crowd, moving quickly to avoid being
recognized. They took up much the same space Jeremy and Johnny
had used as a vantage point earlier.
Sex Gun went through “Golden Girl,” “Try Dying,” and “Time to
Fly” at a fast and flashy pace, then took it down several notches for
“Miss You Forever.” It was on the uptempo, hard driving
“Shutdown” that Jeremy, turning towards the sidelines as he moved
across the front of the stage, saw Zanna.
He did a classic double take, and completely missed the next two
lines of the song. Arik glanced over in surprise, then shook his
head, grinning.
Jeremy himself was laughing, as he finally came back with the
rest of the verse. As Daniel spun out the lead that bridged the
chorus and last verse, Jeremy moved quickly over to where they
watched. Matt backed up unobtrusively, as Jeremy pulled Zanna
close and said something to her. Then he was back at center stage to
finish the song.
The rest of the set went quickly. As they came off the stage,
Jeremy detoured through the side area, and catching Zanna with an
arm around her waist, he swept her along with him. One of the
roadies gave Matt a sympathetic look, and he realized it probably
looked like Jeremy had just swiped his girl. Well, in a way, maybe
he had.
He could see them standing closely, looking at each other but not
speaking. The rest of the group were getting a drink, grabbing
towels to wipe down faces and bare torsos slick with sweat from the
heat of the stage lights, before going back for the encore.
The first song was “Do You Wanna Know?” which made Matt
itch for a guitar, because Jump Cut did a cover of that song. As it
came to a close, Jeremy was again over by Zanna. This time he took
her hand and pulled her out on stage with him, smiling at her with a


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warm intimacy. She balked, pulling back, and without hesitation
Jeremy picked her up in his arms, and carried her swiftly out to the
mike at the front. He set her on her feet as the crowd went crazy at
this byplay. And Sex Gun began “If I Could.”
It was one of those moments where something magical happens
between two performers. Standing on either side of the mike, eyes
locked on each other, Jeremy and Zanna went through the ballad as
though they’d been doing it for years. They went back and forth in
some stanzas, sang others together, their voices intertwining, as Zan
used her greater range to weave around Jeremy’s vocals. His voice
was low and clear, hers almost a husky whisper behind it, as they
came to the final lines:

And if I could, I’d give to you
All the love I never knew
If I could.

And with the music building to a final crescendo behind them,
Jeremy pushed the mike aside, took her face between his hands, and
kissed her.
It was a kiss full of longing, of tempered passion, of bittersweet
feeling, of all the things they couldn’t say to each other. It lasted
through the end of the music, the roar of the crowd, the other
members of the band calling out goodnight. As he drew back from
her, Jeremy’s face was somber, and his eyes were intent on her face.
Matt and everyone close enough to read his lips could see him say to
her, simply, “I love you.”

Soundline
Concert Report: OCEANS BENEFIT
The Oceans concert, a showcase of alternative rock bands for the
benefit of preserving shoreline quality in Southern California,
drew some 50,000 people and went off without a hitch,
something the organizers were relieved to see after the recent
debacle of Woodstock 99... Many of the performers felt a special
connection to the cause. Kelly Ross of Slouching towards
Bliss commented on the damage done by North Sea oil spills to
his native UK turf. Jeremy Kane of Sex Gun wore a t-shirt that
read F**K Proposition 89, a reference to the proposal to allow
further oil exploration off the California coast.


139


But most of the focus was on music, not politics...In a lineup
rich with talent and studded with hit songs, one of the day’s top
performances was served up by the newcomers from the
Midwest, Jump Cut. With a heady mix of unstoppable energy
and blatant sex appeal, the foursome rocked through their
catalogue of originals and unorthodox covers, including their top
ten hit, “Taste the Pain,” and their most recent single, “Love is a
4 Letter Word.” For those interested in human drama, another
segment in the soap opera of rock stars’ love lives occurred
when singer Zanna Martin dedicated the sarcastically titled
“Girlfriend” to Jeremy Kane. (He returned the favor during Sex
Gun’s set, prefacing “I Will Find a Way” by saying “this is for
Zanna.”) Evidently Kane has had no change of heart since his
candid and blunt comments to MusicTown magazine, as he made
his feelings abundantly clear in an unvarnished television
interview earlier in the day (“I want to be her partner in every
sense of the word” was among his more socially acceptable
remarks.) As in the past, he didn’t mention Martin by name, but
it was clear to everyone present to whom he’d been referring
when he literally swept her off her feet and onstage during Sex
Gun’s encore, to sing “If I Could” with him. Kane usually does
SG’s slow songs as though he’s crooning to a lover, cradling the
microphone in his hands, hips rocking gently with the rhythm of
the music. This time, though, she was right there with him, and
they sounded surprisingly good together. They also were
obviously on exceedingly friendly terms, belying rumors that
she’s rejected the attentions of Sex Gun’s frontman.
Sex Gun’s set closed the show, as they played a mixture of
old and new material with their usual power and confidence.
After all those rumors of their near demise, it’s good to see them
just as loud, vibrant, and charged up as ever. The veteran LA
band can still show the youngsters how it’s done, and no one can
touch them for live performance. The audience might have been
just a bit disappointed that nothing except shirts were removed
on this cool fall night, but if so, it was the only letdown.

RockNet
An Interview with Jeremy Kane
After the recent Oceans benefit concert in Southern California,
RockNet caught up with Jeremy Kane. In addition to giving his
customary high energy, hard rocking performance with his mates
in Sex Gun, Kane brought a surprise guest onstage for the
encore.


140


RockNet: You and Zanna Martin really brought down the
house at the Oceans show, when you did “If I Could “ together.
Was it planned that she would join you onstage for that number?
JK: I’ve always wanted to do that song with her, because I
know Jump Cut occasionally performs it, but that was completely
spontaneous. I didn’t even know for sure that she was at the
show, until about halfway through the set, when I saw her
standing just offstage.
RockNet: Was that when you forgot the words to
“Shutdown”?
JK: (laughs) Yeah, that was pretty bad. I completely lost
track of where I was.
RockNet: Did you two talk about how you were going to do
the song, before you went out for the encore?
JK: No, I just grabbed her and hauled her out there. I knew
if I asked, she’d say no. And in fact, what she did say was
something like “What the hell do you think you’re doing.”
RockNet: So you’ve never rehearsed it together?
JK: Right. But when we started singing, that didn’t matter.
It was like we’d been doing it all our lives. Everything fell into
place, and it felt very seamless.
RockNet: That was quite a closer you gave.
JK: You mean when I kissed her?
RockNet: Yes.
JK: Well…doing that song with her was a profoundly moving
experience for me. “If I Could” was born out of despair and
longing - it’s about a time when I was struggling with a lot of
demons, and I’ve always thought of it as essentially a dark song,
dealing with loneliness and desperation.
But with her, it became something more hopeful. It had a
kind of “that was then, now is different” feel to it, this sense that
it’s possible to start over, to make something from the wreckage
of self destruction. When we did that last chorus, her voice went
soaring over mine, and it was so beautiful, I could have cried.
RockNet: Strong stuff.
JK: Exactly. Zanna and I have not had...the easiest of
relationships, you might say, but at that moment I felt closer to
her than I ever have with anyone, in my life.
RockNet: so you and Zanna Martin do have a relationship?
JK: We have a relationship in the sense that we are two
people who know each other and interact, not in the sense that
she’s my girlfriend, if that’s what you mean.
RockNet: That’s probably a good thing, if you think about the


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lyrics to the Jump Cut song “Girlfriend.”
JK (laughing): I love that song! The label wanted her to
clean it up so it could be released as a single, but she wouldn’t
do it, and she was right.
RockNet: Anyway, it looked like quite a kiss.
JK: It was. I dream about that kiss.


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Chapter 14



Sex Gun fan site Bulletin Board

-Hey! Wasn’t anyone at Oceans? Let’s have a report! angel
-did you SEE Jeremy on VH1???Norah
-was he talking about the jump cut girl? angel
-yes. Howl
-I was at the show, and you should have seen their
encore!surfdude
-at least she didn’t hit him this time. Howl

-Are there pix from San Francisco?newbie
-here’s a link. Howl


Jump Cut Diary
Dateline: Santa Cruz
So we’re at UC-Santa Cruz, which is one of the most spectacularly lovely
campuses on the face of the planet. It’s so beautiful here, it’s helping cure
the inevitable letdown after playing the Oceans benefit – what a gig that
was! It was amazing even getting to hang out with those bands, we were
gawking like kids…and the audience was terrific. Sometimes at those
shows where there are a ton of bands, people can be pretty indifferent to
the early acts – but not this time. Thank you oceangoers, you’re socially
responsible and you rock.
Re: email and message board questions about Z and JK – they
sounded great together, huh? That’s going to be our only comment :D


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Oh, and to Alex from SF, sorry we didn’t play your fave song last time,
but email us if you’re going to be at another show, and we’ll make sure Matt
does Reflections, just for you.
Gotta go enjoy the scenery,
jc

Zanna didn’t actually see the infamous interview until a few days
later, in Santa Cruz. Returning from an afternoon run to her motel
room before the soundcheck, she clicked on the TV before sitting
down on the floor to stretch. She flipped through the channels to
VH1, who were doing music news.
An obnoxiously perky vj was going on about Jewel. Zanna
leaned forward and grasped her ankles, but then the vj was saying
brightly “Sex Gun played the Oceans benefit recently, a concert to
aid in cleaning up miles of shoreline in Southern California, and our
Mindy Sorensen got a chance to talk with longtime surfers Jeremy
Kane and Johnny Deal.”
As she watched the interview, Zanna was alternately amused and
appalled. How could he say those things? At the same time, she
had a kind of reluctant admiration for his unvarnished honesty, and a
weird heartstopping sensation when he used the L word.
She thought he was insane, but she never doubted that he meant
every word he said. And what had happened between them at
Oceans had shown her that she could not blow him off and walk
away. The way they connected, in music, was too special to be
ignored. Although how it was going to be accommodated without
other complications, given the powerful physical attraction, was
something she had yet to figure out.
But, she argued to herself, you can play guitar and write songs
with someone and not have sex, even if you are attracted. After all,
she and Matt had been doing that for over a year. Surely she could
work with Jeremy, and just take anything else very slowly.
Except Jeremy wasn’t like Matt, who respected boundaries.
Jeremy was volatile and unpredictable…
And he said he loved her.
No doubt about it. Scary as hell.
At least he’d finally given her back her notebook. Which
reminded her of something. She still had his.


144


Zanna had glanced at it in a cursory way when she first got it in
the mail, but no more than that. Now, though, she pulled it out of
her suitcase. She’d vaguely thought she should return it, but had
completely forgotten, given everything that had happened.
He wrote in much the same fashion she did, with scraps of poetry
and lyrics jumbled in with mere fragments, stream of consciousness
musing, paragraphs about something specific, journal type entries,
actual songs with lines crossed out and written over and arrows
going to other sections, with notes on music in the margins.
There were some major differences, though. While Zanna used
cheap steno pads, Jeremy’s notebook was leather bound and had
good quality paper. His writing was also much neater than hers, and
he did a lot of pen and ink sketches. Some were just a few quick
lines, others more detailed, and Zanna thought they were rather
good.
It was hard to tell the time frame. She thought it must be a month
or more before he met her. A lot of the entries in the beginning had
to do with “After the Hurricane.”

…it’s done, for better or worse. I think, better.
Playing the publicity game, and not even minding. It’s almost
fun to do interviews when you can talk about good stuff. We’re
gonna make Rolling Stone’s cover again…
…break from touring, nice to just hang out for a while. No
sustained activity until late fall, but this-and-thats in the meantime.
Feels like we keep gaining momentum-hasn’t been this good in a
long time…

Some of the sketches were amusing, such as one of Daniel cradling
a guitar like an infant, some disturbing, like the woman who
appeared to be turning into a serpent. And then Zanna realized that
she was reading about the night they met. She hesitated – it was so
very intimate, to read his words, his feelings. But he certainly had
no such inhibitions. She had been somewhat shocked that he had no
compunction about reading her notebook, which was rather
obviously intended to be private – and she was amazed that he was
willing to comprehensively bare his soul by turning over his, to her.
But she was realizing that Jeremy’s mind worked differently. As far


145


as he was concerned, she had already made a commitment to him by
giving him that wanton passion (even if, in his eyes, she was trying
to welsh out on it now). It was one of many things that made him so
disconcerting to deal with.
She read on.

Christ, this is so weird, I feel like I just found out that the world
doesn’t end at the horizon. You’d think you’d know something
about love, women, sex, how it all goes, by now. But – evidently not.
Not at all.
Because I just met her, and she turned it all upside down in just a
few hours, or maybe even a moment, I don’t know. I don’t get it,
how can anyone do that-make you feel like everything and anything
could now be possible? Who knew that there was this incredible
rush, this ultimate high, I never knew anything like it existed. And
suddenly its like, oh! that’s what it’s supposed to be like, this is
what love is, what sex should be – all this time and I had no idea.
It’s kind of humbling, after 36 years and god knows how many
women, because I don’t…this girl gives me one look, one smile, a
kiss…and I would do anything for her.
God, she’s beautiful. I’m sitting here in bed, looking down at her
curled up by my side, watching her sleep. She’s got an interesting
face, kind of different…strong, clean lines, but delicately rendered.
Her hair is the color of honey, but I don’t know about her eyes. I
almost want to wake her up to see. She has long eyelashes, anyway,
like feathery little fans against her cheek. Lovely. I want to know
everything about her. I want to drink her up, breathe her in, touch
and smell and taste her everywhere.

What the fuck was that about?! Why is she so freaked out she
didn’t care about any of it last night she didn’t seem drunk I don’t
even know her last name

I am going to fucking kill Kaoru, what the fuck does he mean, she
doesn’t want to talk to me?
I don’t get this, I swear I could not have been that wrong. She
felt it, too, I know she did how can she not even talk to me now. She
can’t do this. I can’t stand it. I am not going to lose her like this.


146


Fuck, I think I’m going crazy, it’s like I almost see her
everywhere, I’m staring at every girl who has straight, dark blonde
hair, but it’s never her. Arik says I’d better get over it, or our next
record’s going to be a lot of fucking sappy unrequited love songs,
and he could be right, because I can’t get her out of my head. Who
were you, Zanna, my love? I realize now I should have asked a lot
more questions, that night. But I thought I had time…

There was a drawing of her, asleep. It was sparely done, a few
curving lines to indicate her shoulder, the fall of her hair, her cheek,
her closed eyes. Then-

Oh my beautiful and wild Zanna, am I ever going to see you
again? Am I ever going to be able to make love to you, so sweet and
hot. Are you ever going to love me back?
I know how it feels to be deep inside you. I know the feel and
taste of your mouth, your skin, your soft silky wetness.
I know how you write, how you work out a song.
But I don’t know what your favorite movie is. What kind of food
you like. What the fuck you do to get that body, god.
So where are you tonight, my lovely Zanna? And do you ever
think about me? Do you remember that night, too, do you? I want
to think you do.

And finally, just before the blank pages, he had written directly to
her, an emphatic black scrawl.

Okay, Zanna, you know my story, if you get this far, and all I can
say is, give us a chance. If you won’t do that – at least tell me why.
You owe me that much.

She stopped reading, emotions churning. Did he realize she’d never
read this? Oh god, he must think she’d been jerking him
around…she felt awful, but at the same time, a little resentful. How
could anyone decide that fast that he loved you? How could he
expect you to do something about it?
But he was right; she owed him more.
She looked at the number written on the inside cover, and stared


147


at the phone on the bedside table. Glanced at the clock – she was
going to be late for soundcheck if she didn’t get going. Picked up
the phone, panicked, put it down again. Why didn’t he have email,
damn it? She took a deep breath, and dialed.
Oh, good, voice mail. At the tone, she began, haltingly.
“Hi, Jeremy, it’s Zanna. I just saw your interview…enjoyed how
you handled the drug issue, although it was a pity they did that
blurry thing…uh, the rest of it…I guess I don’t know what to say,
there, it’s kind of…oh, I don’t know, it’s pretty weird for me, you
know?
Why I called though, really, was to tell you that I only just now
read your notebook, the one you sent me. I guess I should have
done it a long time ago. I didn’t feel right about it. I’m sorry. But
anyway… I can’t pick one favorite movie, but recently, let’s see, I
really liked Shakespeare in Love and Run Lola Run. I like lots of
different kinds of food…yes, I work out, I run because I like it, and
do weights because it’s good for me, even though I think it’s boring,
and I swim, and bike, stuff like that.
I… I’ve thought about you a lot, since we met. And yes, it seems
strange that we don’t know even the most basic, ordinary stuff about
each other.
I don’t know where any of this gets us but I’m glad we’re going
to try and work together.”
She hung up, said “Whew!” and took off for the sound check.




148









Chapter 15



Zanna returned from the college tour determined to not be such a
spaz where Jeremy was concerned. The morning after they got back
she was puttering around the cottage, enjoying being ‘home.’ She
unpacked and started a load of laundry, and looked in the
refrigerator to discover a shrunken orange and some condiments.
She decided to pick up provisions later. She could walk down to the
beachfront shops.
She retrieved her voice mail messages – one from her sister
Callie, one from Rachel. And then she heard Jeremy’s voice.
The message was very casual.
“Hey, Z, looks to me like you’re in town this week, so let’s try
and work on ‘Chemistry,’ okay?” Pause. Then he said, “Talk to
you soon,” not very hopefully.
Zanna took a deep breath. Well. All right, time for the new leaf.
Don’t think, just do it, she instructed herself, looking in the cover of
her notebook for Arik’s number. She punched it in, and listened to
the ringing. She was just about to conclude no one was home and
hang up (with some relief) when someone picked it up.

Jeremy habitually answered the phone as though he was sure it was
no one he wanted to talk to. If his flat “Yeah?” wasn’t actively
hostile, it certainly wasn’t friendly either. Taken aback, Zanna said
hesitantly, “Hi – it’s me, Zanna,” and waited.
His voice warmed immediately. “Z! hey, how are you? How
was your trip?”
“Fine.” She paused, feeling awkward, but Jeremy didn’t seem to
notice. He went on happily, “I’m glad you called, I didn’t know if


149


you would.”
Zanna thought it probably wouldn’t be tactful to tell him she was
thinking of it as a self-improvement project. She said, “So, you’re
around for a few days?”
“Yeah. Can we get together?” Quickly he added, “To play. I’ve
been working on a couple of things I’d like you to listen to.”
“Umm, sure.” Why couldn’t she talk normally, she thought in
despair. “When? And where?” she added, sticking to essentials.
“Are you free today? Anytime’s fine, I’ll be around here all
day.” He waited.
Zanna squashed down a panicky feeling, told herself sooner was
better than later, and said, “Right. I’ll see you this afternoon, then.”
“Okay. Yeah, that’s great!” He still sounded uncharacteristically
upbeat and enthusiastic. Zanna said goodbye and rang off,
wondering at it. Maybe this was what he was like, in a good mood.
She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him in a good mood before.

It took Zanna a while to figure out how to get to Arik’s, since she
couldn’t very well bike with a Strat on her back, but she was quite
proud of herself for working out the bus route that would let her out
at the lower canyon road. She dressed to fit in on public transport,
in jeans and a plain blue work shirt. She stuffed her hair into a
baseball cap to complete the look. It was, she thought, asexual and
totally nonalluring, which was what she wanted, and not only for the
benefit of bus riders.
She quite enjoyed the hike up to Arik’s, although by the time she
got to his driveway, the guitar case felt pretty heavy. She rang the
bell next to the carved wooden door, her face heating up as she
remembered the last time she had stood there.
Jeremy answered it immediately. He was wearing only
boardshorts, and looked taller and more muscular than Zanna
remembered. He was apparently still in a cheerful mood, because he
gave her a big, open smile as he ushered her in. Then, glancing back
at the driveway, he looked puzzled. “How’d you get here?” he
asked.
“The bus,” she answered. “Where-?” She made a gesture.
“Downstairs,” he told her, and shut the door. Zanna went down
to the lower level, where an informal family room was set up as


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practice space. There was a drum set, and a bunch of amplifiers,
microphones and music stands. Several instruments were propped
up and lying around. Zanna set down her case and opened it, taking
out her Stratocaster. She was beginning to tune it as Jeremy came
back, followed by Daniel, who nodded at her and took a close look
at her guitar.
Jeremy said to Zanna, “You took the bus?” in a tone of disbelief.
She said, “Sure.” She added in explanation, since he still
appeared incredulous, “It’s hard to bike with a guitar.”
Daniel said, “I didn’t know buses ran here.”
Zanna was glad to enlighten him. “You have to get off at the
bottom of the hill.”
Daniel said, “But that’s like, a mile from here.”
“Right,” she replied. She registered that both Daniel and Jeremy
appeared somewhat stunned. “It’s really pretty easy getting here.
You only have to transfer once.” She sounded her strings and asked
Daniel, “Does that sound flat to you?”
“Yes,” he said. She made a sound of annoyance. Matt often
tuned the guitar for her, and she didn’t have his ear. Daniel said,
“Want me to-” and she smiled gratefully and handed it over.
Arik wandered in, and said hi to Zanna. He asked Jeremy, “Are
you going over Magic Moment?”
Jeremy ignored this, apparently still fixated on Zanna’s mode of
locomotion. He said to her, “Zanna, this is LA. Public
transportation isn’t safe.”
Zanna laughed. “All right, listen up,” she said. “(A) at least
during the day, for certain routes, the bus isn’t dangerous, not any
more than walking down the street, and probably less so than those
hellish freeways. (B) I don’t have a car here, and I hate driving
anyway. And C, no offense, Jeremy, but your credibility on risk
analysis isn’t all that high, all right? Now, are we going to play, or
not?”
Daniel said to her sympathetically, “I don’t like driving either.
But what you do is, call for a car. There’s a really good place I use,
they show up fast and have very good drivers.”
Arik said, “That’s a good idea, Z, really.”
She said in exasperation, “Look, you lot are inhabiting a different
universe, okay? Us lesser mortals do things a little differently,


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which includes public transportation. Now are we going to play, or
am I going to catch the bloody bus home again?” She wasn’t
looking at Jeremy, or she might have wondered at his suddenly
stricken expression. She reclaimed her guitar from Daniel,
strummed a few chords, and smiled her appreciation for his masterly
tuning. She plugged into an amp, and said briskly, “Can we go over
Chemistry? I don’t remember what comes after the first two verses.
I know you put a change up somewhere…” She looked enquiringly
at Jeremy.
With an effort, he pulled himself together and said, “Yeah, okay.”
He picked up his guitar, and started to play slowly, with Zanna
watching closely.
Arik and Daniel exchanged a surprised look. It wasn’t like
Jeremy to give up without a fight, and they both thought he was
actually right about this bus thing.

They went through the song a few times. Then Daniel said
unexpectedly, “I liked it better with Zanna on lead vocal.” She
started to protest, but Jeremy was nodding in agreement. “I do,
too,” he said. So she shrugged, and set her guitar aside. They
started over.
Jeremy stopped the song halfway through, and said to Zanna,
“After that last chorus, try just letting go.” She nodded, and this
time did a freestyle vocal improv, but Jeremy shook his head, and
she stopped.
He moved closer to her, and said, “You’ve got a lot more voice
than that, okay?” He put one hand on the small of her back, and the
other on her middle. Jeremy had big hands with long, spatulate
fingers, and they came close to spanning her waist. She felt a
frisson down her spine at his touch, but she was concentrating on
what he was saying, trying to divine exactly what he wanted. When
it came to music, she trusted his judgment implicitly.
“Feel it deep,” he said. “Open up. Let it build, then let it out.”
He nodded at the others, and said, “From the chorus.”
Zanna sang, watching Jeremy’s face. When she got to the end,
she took a breath. Feeling his hand still on her, she imagined sound
like champagne being uncorked and poured out, and let her voice
take over. Jeremy was smiling, and nodding as she soared up and


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brought it down again. He let go, and played along with Daniel on
the bridge. They finished the last verses, and did the chorus
together, Zanna with her eyes shut so she could better hear Jeremy.
There was complete silence as they finished. Zanna opened her
eyes to find them all regarding her. “That what you had in mind?”
she asked. Jeremy said nothing, but he was smiling broadly. Arik
said faintly, “That would be it,” and Daniel told her, “That was
brilliant.”

They went on to “Magic Moment.” Jeremy went over what he’d
done so far and Zanna had some things to add. Daniel and Arik both
put in two cents worth. Finally they took a break, and had a late
lunch by the pool. Jill Stanley showed up from somewhere in the
house, and she and Arik made grilled tuna sandwiches for everyone.
The conversation was general, ranging from movies to local politics
to Sex Gun’s upcoming tour. Zanna didn’t say much; she was still
going over songs in her head.
She became aware that Jeremy was looking at her expectantly,
and said, “Sorry, did you say something?” The others looked
amused; Jeremy was much more accustomed to women hanging on
his every word, than this casual preoccupation.
He didn’t seem to mind, though. He repeated patiently, “As long
as you’re here, I’ve been playing around with Dark Angel, and I’d
like to know what you think.”
She said, “Sure,” and took the hand he stretched down to her. As
he pulled her to her feet, she asked, “What time is it, though?”
Jill consulted her watch. “Almost four.”
Jeremy, accurately reading Zanna, said, “I’m giving you a ride
home, okay? It’s on my way.”
Zanna said, “To where?” and he replied, “To anywhere.” She
shrugged, and they went into the house together.

Much later, after he had dropped Zanna off, Jeremy drove down to a
stretch of beach where he often went when he wanted to think.
Parking the 4x4, he discarded his shoes in it, and walked down to
where the waves rolled in, letting them wash over his legs and bury
his feet in the sand. Gazing unseeing out across the water, he
thought back over the day.


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God, but that girl could sing. He heard in his mind the way her
voice could practically make you see colors, it was so full. Jeremy
knew he was good, but Zanna was really in another league, he
thought. Her lack of training meant she had a roughness and
individuality that worked well for alt-rock, something a more
polished vocalist would lack. At the same time, she needed to learn
to put that range to better use. They’d have to keep it in mind, with
whatever they worked on next…
Okay, he was avoiding it. The Bus Issue. He hadn’t brought it
up with her again, behaving with a circumspection that was rare for
him. He had asked her if she had any errands she’d like to do on the
way back to her place, and when she said no, he’d asked if she’d
mind stopping at the bookstore. She didn’t. They browsed
companionably for a while, Jeremy eventually buying a surf mag
and a book called ‘Cold Mountain’ for himself, and the new issue of
Guitar for Daniel. Zanna got a paperback mystery. She glanced at
his selection, and commented, “I read that book. It’s good.”
“Yeah?”
She nodded. “I actually didn’t have much interest in it at first – I
read it for a book club at home. But it was so well written I went
through it in a couple of days.” She asked curiously, “Do you read a
lot?”
“Yeah.” Not that you’d know it from my scintillating
conversation, he thought, and tried to think of something to say.
“You?” he asked.
She laughed. “The way that some people smoke,” she told him.
“I get strung out and bitchy if I go for too long without it.” He
grinned, because he knew exactly what she meant.
At his suggestion, they moved into the café section and got
drinks, coffee for him, chai for her. Suddenly they were talking
easily about books, music, about anything. By the time he’d taken
her back to the beach, he hadn’t wanted to bring up something they
were likely to argue about.
But he really couldn’t let it go. The Bus Problem.
He heard again her half-mocking voice. “You people.” “A
different universe.” “We do things differently.” And he felt again
the same burning sense of shame he had experienced at Arik’s.
They didn’t think of themselves as rich people, but the fact was


154


everyone in Sex Gun had made a lot of money. It wasn’t something
they had to think about. They bought whatever they wanted, and
didn’t even see their bills, they had money managers for that.
Jeremy himself wasn’t much of a consumer because he just couldn’t
be bothered, but the fact was that if he wanted to, he could buy a
mansion, a yacht, whatever, for cash, now. He was probably worth
even more than your average successful rocker, because he’d made a
lot of investments rather than blowing the money on fancy toys.
With the exception of heroin, he’d never had expensive tastes.
And you forgot, because the people you were around were in a
similar place, what it was like for the rest. College professors didn’t
make much, he knew, and so far Jump Cut wouldn’t have gotten
royalty checks. As a new band, they wouldn’t have gotten much of
an advance. He remembered Zanna’s comment in the MTV
interview, about rock stars who’d never had real jobs. It was pretty
much true of everyone in Sex Gun, himself included. He thought
about her calm amusement at his horror over her taking the bus.
Jeremy had never thought of himself as a snob, and he was
disdainful of the Beverly Hills crowd. It came as something of an
eye-opener to realize that Zanna and her band probably regarded Sex
Gun as spoiled brats.
While he’d been in school, and during the band’s early days,
things had been hand to mouth for a while. He could still remember
clearly sleeping in the station wagon, but he’d had time to forget
most of the details of a life where you had to think about money. He
was aware that Zanna didn’t envy them their lifestyle (if anything
she seemed to find it somewhat humorous) and was perfectly used to
providing for herself.
But – he couldn’t just let her keep taking the bus.

When Jeremy got back from the beach later that evening, he found
Arik, Daniel and Jill in the den, watching the Lakers on TV. He
dropped onto the couch beside Daniel and said to him, “Want to go
car shopping tomorrow?”
“I don’t mind,” said Daniel.
Arik said, surprised, “You’re finally giving up that piece of shit
you call a vehicle?”
“What? Oh, no,” said Jeremy. “Not for me. For Zanna.”


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Daniel said, “That’s a good idea. She shouldn’t be taking the
bus.”
“Did you ask her about this?” said Jill.
Jeremy looked defensive. “No,” he said. “What was I gonna
say? Hey, Z, I don’t like this bus thing, so let’s get you a car?
She’d tell me to fuck off.”
“No, she wouldn’t,” said Daniel. Jeremy looked at him, surprised
and somewhat hopeful, and Daniel added, “She never talks that way,
haven’t you noticed? She’d say, forget it, or something like that. Or
maybe she’d say you’re like, an overbearing, paternalistic, arrogant
something or other. She has a very good vocabulary.”
Jeremy said impatiently, “I don’t care what she calls me, she
can’t keep taking that fucking bus.”
Jill said gently, “But Jeremy, you have to realize that she’s
obviously used to looking after herself, and doing things her own
way.”
“I know that! But-” he broke off in frustration. They were all
looking at him sympathetically. He said, “Okay, just tell me this:
what kind of car do you think she’d be least offended by?”

In the end, it was Arik who went car shopping with Jeremy in the
morning. They had decided on an SUV (“If she hates freeways, it’s
better to be up higher,” said Daniel) nothing ostentatious
(“Absolutely no Landrovers or Mercedes,” said Jill firmly) and after
Arik looked up safety and reliability ratings on the Internet, they
fixed on Toyota.
At the dealership, they argued over Forerunners vs. Rav4s (“It’s
fucking tiny!” said Jeremy of the latter. “Girls think they’re cute,”
Arik told him) and finally agreed on a midsize model. Jeremy had
to sign about a hundred papers, but finally they were done and
drove to the beach, Arik in the new one with Jeremy following in his
own battered edition.
Matt and Zanna were drinking coffee on the terrace when they
pulled up. Jeremy tried not to think about the implications of that.
He got out and joined Arik in the driveway. It occurred to him
belatedly that he didn’t really know what he was going to say to her.
Matt said to them, “Hi. Want some coffee?” and Arik said yes,
thanks, so Matt got up and came back with two more mugs, Jeremy


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registering that he seemed very at home here.
Zanna said, “Where are your boards?” in mild surprise, having
evidently assumed they were just leaving their cars at Tom’s while
they went surfing.
Jeremy took a deep breath, and plunged in. “Look, Zanna, you
can’t keep taking the bus, it’s dangerous,” he said. “You have to
trust us on this, we’re from here, you’re not.”
Zanna’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve never taken that bus in your
life.”
“I don’t have to, I read the paper, okay?” he said. “Anyway,” he
took her hand, and put the keys, on their shiny complimentary
Toyota keyring, in her palm. “This is for you,” he told her.
Matt looked at the driveway, and gave a soft whistle of
appreciation.
Zanna didn’t even look. She handed the keys back, saying
firmly, “That’s very kind of you, but I can’t.”
Jeremy said impatiently, “Yes, you can. You have to,” and
Zanna, her voice no longer quite as calm, said, “Excuse me?”
Jeremy heard the dangerous edge in her tone, and thought, fuck.
He said, “Zanna, I know that viewed from one point this might
strike you as a paternalistic, overbearing, arrogant thing to do, but
you know, I care about you, and I can’t help that, and I can’t stand
the idea that you’re walking and biking and taking the fucking bus
everywhere by yourself-” and she interrupted “Jeremy, I appreciate
the gesture, and I am not trying to be difficult here, but I hate
driving other people’s cars-”
“It’s yours, okay-”
“And I can’t possibly accept a gift like that-”
“Why the fuck not-”
Arik, who had foreseen this problem (or at least, Jill had and told
him about it), thought it was time to intervene. “Shut up, both of
you!” he ordered. They stopped, and looked at him. Arik noticed
that Matt was grinning appreciatively, and thought he had an ally.
He said to Jeremy, “Give me your keys.” Jeremy looked at him
blankly, but handed them over.
Arik decided to start with Zanna. “Z, you have to realize, we
think of you as a friend, as well as a guest in our part of the world,”
he began. “We want you to like it here. We most definitely do not


157


want you to get robbed or raped at a bus stop. Also, for Jeremy,
buying a car is roughly the equivalent of buying a pack of chewing
gum for most people, because he is really fucking rich.” Turning to
Jeremy, he said, “But you need to realize that while we may not
agree with Zanna’s scruples, they’re hers, and she’s entitled to them.
And if she says she can’t take it, then that’s it. End of subject.”
Jeremy looked mutinous, so Arik continued hastily, “So here’s what
we’re going to do. Zanna, you’re going to take Jeremy’s piece of
shit Landcruiser to use while you’re here. It’s such a crappy vehicle
you won’t be accepting much of a favor at all. Jeremy, you take the
new one. That way Z still has transportation, without feeling like
she’s compromising her integrity or whatever.”
Jeremy and Zanna stared at each other for a moment. Then he
said reluctantly, “I’m okay with that. But I still think-”
Matt said rapidly, talking over Jeremy before he could screw it
up, “That’s a great idea, Arik, perfect solution.” He nudged Zanna.
“Z, say thank you like a good girl.”
Jeremy couldn’t believe he could get away with talking to her
like that, but she just laughed, and said, “All right. Thank you,
Jeremy, for the loan of your truck,” her eyes dancing. He couldn’t
help but smile back at her, and he said politely, “You’re welcome,
Zanna.”
“Oh good,” said Matt happily. “I hate taking the bus. It scares
the shit out of me,” and they all broke out in laughter.


158









Chapter 16



Jump Cut’s sojourn in Southern California was drawing to a close,
and Zanna, for one, was regretful.
The CD had been released, and was selling well. The band had
played up and down the West Coast, drawing increasingly larger
audiences with every appearance. They had done the video for “Life
is Triage,” which was slated to be the next single. Zanna had also
been talked into an appearance in Technical Difficulties’ video for
“Gone.” It featured her rolling around in a fountain with Nick, and
as Rachel had said, it was just sexy enough to be a little
controversial and worth some free publicity.
Since they’d be touring in the Midwest next, they were headed
back to home base in Minnesota. The guys, with the possible
exception of Matt, were glad to seek out familiar environs. Zanna
was too, in a way, but she was aware that there was a lot about So
Cal she was going to miss. Surfing, for one thing. And soon it was
going to be winter, she vastly preferred LA’s version over
Minnesota’s…
There was something else, that she only half-admitted to herself.
She was going to miss the songwriting sessions with Jeremy.
Chemistry and Dark Angel were full grown songs now, and they’d
moved on to other material. She’d even played a few times, at
Arik’s, with the rest of Sex Gun. She’d been very diffident about
that, at first, because she didn’t think she was good enough (she
couldn’t really even read music, and she could barely play guitar, for
heaven’s sake!) but they didn’t seem to care, and Daniel was
incredibly sweet about helping her. They were all nice to her, in
fact, in a casually inclusive way. She had started to wonder why


159


they had such a bad reputation, because mostly they seemed like a
pretty well mannered bunch to her. She supposed it must be that
newfound maturity…
Jeremy himself, for the most part, was carefully restrained. He
still treated her with the easy, almost proprietary affection that had
thrown her off stride before, but she was getting used to it. He
kissed her hello and goodbye on the cheek, he frequently touched
her on the shoulder or knee, or rested his hand lightly on her back.
She didn’t mind any of that, since he didn’t seem inclined to take it
further. It felt somehow natural, and truth be told, kind of nice.
She’d been surfing regularly with Kaoru when he was in town,
and Arik often joined them. A few times, Jeremy and Johnny Deal
came too, although, as Arik said, they tended to like their waves
bigger than the others did.
The week before she left, Zanna called Jeremy and asked if he’d
like to get together one last time. They had several things in the
fragment stage, and who knew when they’d have a chance to
collaborate again. It had been a revelation, to Zanna, how smoothly
the creative process could work when they were together. Jeremy
had a genius for understanding what she was hearing in her head,
even when she could barely put it into auditory form herself. And
Zanna could listen to something and unerringly know how to edit it.
Arik had commented privately to Jeremy that if the label ever
figured out she had that talent, they’d make her a vice president and
just turn her loose on their stable of artists, because she could
probably get a hit single for almost anyone.
“Let’s hope they don’t find out,” said Jeremy, “because she’s too
good, herself, to spend her time on other people’s shit.” He grinned.
“Except ours, of course.” Zanna had played with them on the Magic
Moment recording. She and Jeremy had rewritten the song to make
it longer, and Sex Gun had considerably altered the arrangement.
But it was Zanna, even more than their producer Tom Scott, who
had pulled it altogether. And in the end, as Johnny had inelegantly
put it, ‘This Magic Moment’ was a fucking great record.
Jeremy was surprised, but glad, to hear from her. He kept track
of Jump Cut’s doings and knew she was leaving soon, and had been
concerned about how he was going to maintain their fledgling
relationship long distance. He knew from Matt, as well as from the


160


media, that she was still seeing Nick Tzezna (and the first time he’d
seen the ‘Gone’ video, he’d thrown the nearest object at hand at the
TV – fortunately it happened to be the newspaper) but as far as he
could tell, that thing seemed to be in a holding pattern. Jeremy still
couldn’t quite figure out Matt and Zanna’s relationship; he
suspected there was more to it than Matt let on. Certainly they were
very physical with each other, both on and offstage. But there didn’t
seem to be any point in being jealous of the younger man. He was
obviously someone who mattered a lot to Zanna, and Jeremy figured
like it or not, he was there to stay. And actually, Jeremy liked Matt
personally. At times, he felt almost a sense of kinship with him;
both of them in love with the same woman, and unable to do much
about it.
Zanna, as usual, wasn’t inclined to chat on the phone; she stuck
with bare essentials.
“ I was wondering, if you’ve got the time, if you’d want to have
one last session before I take off,” she asked.
“Of course,” said Jeremy. He mentally reviewed their joint work
product, and decided happily that nothing was far enough along to
make sense to do it with the others. “Tell you what,” he said.
“Let’s take surfboards and drive somewhere and make a day of it.”
He could feel her hesitate; this was way beyond their usual practice
of meeting at Arik’s, where she could get up and leave whenever she
wanted. This, for Zanna, was a commitment. “C’mon, Z,” he
cajoled. “I promise I’ll behave myself.” She laughed a little at that,
and capitulated.
Jeremy put considerable thought into where to take her.
Somewhere with decent surf, not too difficult, and atmosphere
conducive to – well, personal interaction of a slightly more romantic
nature. He was determined to be cool about this, and not do
anything to scare her off, but he also had decided that things needed
to progress, just a little, before she left town.

He had been both pleasantly surprised at how easily he could work
with Zanna, and disappointed that it didn’t take them farther on a
personal level. He had discovered that one of Zanna’s talents was
the ability to focus on the matter at hand. When they got together to
write, or play, her concentration was intense. She was largely


161


unselfconscious and lost the wariness she often had around him. It
was the same way with surfing; her attention was on the waves and
she was mostly aware of him as a resource to improve her technique.
He was glad to accommodate her; she was an apt pupil, and he got
tremendous satisfaction out of watching her increased mastery of the
sport.
But all too often, afterwards she would go off to the movies with
Matt or Kaoru, or out to dinner with Nick. It seemed she was only
willing to have Jeremy in a few very limited slots in her life.
Sometimes, though, there was a special intimacy in sharing those
experiences that she allowed. When a song came right, when you
caught a great ride on a wave, there was a sense of total euphoria,
and when there was someone there with you…he was hoping for a
little of that magic to have a mellowing effect on Zanna.

Jeremy was not a morning person. His love of surfing had
overcome his natural a.m. inertia to the point where he could force
himself out of bed, but he typically functioned on autopilot until he
was actually at the beach.
He got things ready the night before – surfboards, including an
extra short board for Zanna to try, wetsuit, his knockabout acoustic
guitar (he didn’t like to take the D28 to the beach), his notebooks, a
blanket, towels, snacks, thermos ready for coffee, coffeemaker
primed to be turned on in the morning.
When he picked Zanna up in the very early hours, she seemed to
be wide awake, and worse, energetic. Her movements were fast and
kind of bouncy as she helped him strap her board to the rack of the
new truck, and tossed the rest of her stuff in the back. Then she
settled herself next to him, fastening her seatbelt and saying
brightly, “Where are we going? I was listening to the surf report,
but then I didn’t know what break…” She noticed he was looking at
her, and frowning a little, and she said innocently, “What?”
He said accusingly, “You’re – perky.”
“Am I? Does that bother you? I’ll shut up.” She was anxious to
accommodate him on anything simple.
Jeremy grinned, reluctantly. “It’s okay,” he said. “Don’t change.
It’s just I didn’t know that about you. It’s an eye-opener.” He had
wondered what it would be like waking up with her, when she


162


wasn’t freaked out and hung over. Well, now he knew. God.
Zanna, somewhat chastened, sank back in her seat and looked out
the window, staying quiet. They were headed up the coastal
highway. Jeremy hadn’t answered the “where” question, but she
didn’t want to ask again.
Jeremy reached over then, and rested his hand on her knee. It
was warm against her bare leg. He said, “Sorry for being grouchy. I
wake up kind of slow. We’re going to stop by Malibu before it gets
too crowded, then out to Point Parrish.”
“Oh! Great,” she said. Her tone was relieved, and she smiled
happily at him. They surfed Malibu beach until the waves became
inundated with bodies, then Zanna called to him “I’m going in,” and
rode the next one all the way. He stayed out a little longer, hot-
dogging shamelessly he admitted to himself, but it was a blast even
if it did smack of doing wheelies on your bike for the benefit of the
cute girl next door.
The cute girl herself was awed by his athleticism. And with him
safely out of reach, on the water, she could allow herself to…well,
sort of drool over him. At this safe distance, she could admit that he
was totally hot. He was coming out of the water now, board
hoisted easily under one arm (how she envied men that upper body
strength!) and grinning at her. They walked up the beach together,
feet plunging in the loose sand, and she sneaked a sideways look at
him. The hard line of his jaw didn’t look so uncompromising when
he was laughing like this, and she liked the slant of his cheekbones,
in fact she was fascinated by the angles of his face, and it was near
impossible to look at that mouth without….
Whew. She shook herself mentally. It might be a really good
thing, for her peace of mind, that she was leaving town.
They found a shady spot in the beachside park, and spread out the
blanket. Zanna asked “What have you been working on?” and
Jeremy passed her his latest notebook in response.
“Nothing coherent,” he said. “I’d like to go back to your broken
glass thing, though.” She nodded, lying on her stomach on the
blanket, propped on her elbows, bare feet in the air, as she looked
over his notebook. Jeremy noticed, not for the first time, what a
really great ass she had. Her waist and hips were narrow yet
beautifully curvy, and her derriere was small but so shapely, and he


163


remembered, really firm, all that running, he supposed…
Zanna loved Jeremy’s notebooks. He was completely
unselfconscious about sharing them with her, which she still found
sort of amazing. She’d dispensed with the journal type writing in
hers (she had a separate one for that now) since they had fallen into
this pattern of working with each other’s raw material.
She remembered something suddenly. Looking up at him, she
said, “I still have your red notebook. The one you sent me.”
Jeremy glanced down at her, his expression enigmatic. It was
something they’d never talked about, neither what he’d written, nor
the message she’d left him after reading it. Then he smiled. “Keep
it,” he told her. “Souvenir of LA.”
“Thanks,” she said, surprised but pleased. “I’ll treasure it, along
with my Fury lunchbox.” Matt had found the latter at a flea market,
and had given it to Zanna to celebrate the release of ‘Taste This.’
Jeremy laughed. “I’m in good company then. Me and a big
black horse. Cool.” She grinned, and turned her attention back to
the pages in front of her.
As usual, Jeremy’s pages were a mix of poetry, disconnected
sentences, commentary, and pen and ink sketches. It was a little
strange looking at it, because she knew a lot of it had to do with her,
but oddly enough, it wasn’t particularly awkward. She supposed it
was because she was looking at it from the standpoint of a
songwriter, rather than his-whatever. She smiled at a sketch of Arik,
bending over his bass, done in a few quick, sure lines. She went
over a series of sentences, not exactly a poem, but they read with a
nice cadence, although some lines didn’t quite seem right to her. It
was about wanting more than sex from your lover. About wanting a
relationship…
Jeremy was pondering the broken glass lyrics, and thinking they
sounded more like him than her, since it had an edge of bitterness
towards the lover who had left. It was hard to imagine Zanna
feeling that way. He wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t even notice.
Actually, she probably took off herself, before it ever came to that…
“Got a tune for this?” he asked.
“Not really.” She sat up. “Sort of a feel, though. Mid tempo,
and that dark guitar sound, you know? Like Cracker on ‘Be My
Love, or maybe you guys on ‘Way.’” She leaned closer to him,


164


reading the lyrics she’d written over his arm, then half talking, half
singing through them.
Jeremy listened closely, and fastened on two lines that had an
actual melody. He tried with the guitar, finding the chords, and
Zanna nodded in agreement. He took out a mini tape recorder and
turned it on – often they went through ideas so quickly this was the
only way to be sure something didn’t get lost. Later, he’d go back
and listen to the tapes, to see what they might have missed.
Zanna sang his chords, half under her breath, and went on
improvising haphazardly. Jeremy caught something, sounded it in
his head. He tried it out loud – no, not quite. He put the guitar aside,
and Zanna moved up close to him, her crossed legs against his. She
sang it almost but not exactly as he had, and it was closer. They
sounded it out together and suddenly there was a clear melody that
seemed right to both. He picked up the guitar again, working out the
chords, with Zanna listening, and interrupting – “no, it has to go up,
there. Da da DA!” and it took on real shape, until they sang through
it together, and knew they had a song.
Zanna couldn’t believe how easily he could do this stuff, just
come up with a tune like that. Jeremy was thinking he’d never
worked with anyone, not even his band, who could take all the false
starts and broken notes in his head and make it sound like
something. He was feeling her legs against his, and thinking that
this songwriting stuff was like a head trip version of making love
with her – each of them giving something to the other, coming
together and finding something complete. He looked at her, and she
was smiling at him, happy with what they’d accomplished, and he
was too, really, only it didn’t seem like quite enough, with her so
close. He moved towards her, his eyes on her mouth, and she
started to scoot herself out of reach – a mistake, from her point of
view, because when she uncrossed her legs, he took advantage of
her momentarily open position to move between them, and he seized
her by her hips and pulled her onto his lap. When she leaned away,
he let her weight tip them both over backwards, one arm around her
waist. And now she was lying on her back, with him more or less
on top of her, between her sprawled legs, and it was beyond being
suggestive.
She said rapidly, before he could kiss her, “You said you’d


165


behave.”
“I lied,” he said, thinking god, she feels so good, as he ran one
hand up her leg, feeling the strength of her hamstring and that
wonderful little curve where-
“That’s not fair,” she protested, shoving against his chest.
Jeremy looked down at her, and sighed. Okay, he had to admit, she
didn’t look ready for this. She looked – well, scared, and he felt bad
about that. He wanted her, but not like this. He wanted her willing,
and eager, and -
Well, god damn it, he wanted her to love him. That was what it
came down to. Even if she did acquiesce, sex wasn’t enough. He’d
already learned that lesson.
So – time for a nice, cold, swim.
“Yeah, okay,” he said, and eased back, his weight off her. He
couldn’t resist pausing by her knee, and kissing the inside of it in a
slow, thorough way that was part kiss, part lick, part suck, and that
made her go completely still, and make just the tiniest little sound,
something between a sigh and a gasp. Then he got up, and said,
“Let’s hit Point Parrish,” and reached a hand down to her.
Zanna felt like cursing him; her every nerve seemed to be on fire,
it was like the resistance in her head made her treacherous body
even more ready, in sort of an inverse proportion. The more she
wanted to resist, the less willpower she had…she ached, physically,
with desire, her breasts were hypersensitive, nipples taut, and she
was wet, god damn him, her face burned with embarrassment.
Jeremy noticed the color in her cheeks. He liked the way she
blushed, it was subtle, but visible and it let you know that there was
more going on under her cool manner than she was otherwise
revealing…she took his hand, and he pulled her up, god, she
weighed next to nothing, well maybe she’d work up an appetite
surfing. He wondered if she liked fish tacos. There was a place
near Point Parrish beach…
She did, it turned out.
Point Parrish was almost deserted that afternoon, and the two to
four foot swells were coming in nicely paced sets. Jeremy took
advantage of the conditions to give Zanna a lesson, and at one point
had her come up on his board for her first experience with tandem
surfing. They wiped out several times, which never seemed to


166


bother Zanna. He was glad to see that she always came up laughing,
at home in the water. She had a physical lack of fear that
occasionally verged on recklessness, though, and he made a mental
note to keep an eye on that tendency. It didn’t occur to him that he
himself was the same way, so the irony of this was lost on him.
Zanna lost her momentary self consciousness, after the incident
in the park, in the sheer exhilaration of surfing. Since Jeremy
couldn’t very well make any serious passes at her out here, she was
free to enjoy his companionship and even flirt a little. He knew this,
and didn’t mind. He loved it when she dropped her guard, whatever
the circumstances. He knew he couldn’t, in all conscience, test her
any more today without seeming like a pushy bastard, and he
resolved to keep her in this relaxed mood.
They had their tacos on the deck of the small fish house that
Jeremy had remembered. Zanna thought they were delicious, with
the crisp lettuce and spicy fresh salsa, and ate three, messily, licking
the remains off her fingers. There was a spectacular technicolor
sunset, and even though Jeremy knew it meant a high level of
pollution, he still could appreciate the glorious display. Pink and
gold streamers laced across the sky, and Zanna looked at it, and
sighed gustily.
“I’m going to miss this,” she said.
“Yeah? What part?”
She swung her arm out in an encompassing gesture. “All of it,”
she said.
That could just mean the sunset, and the surf, and the fish tacos,
he supposed, but he liked to think it might include him, too.

Later, he pulled up in front of Tom’s little guest house, and they
both got out, and unloaded her stuff. Zanna thought about inviting
him in, rejected it immediately as way too hazardous. Pity, though.
Jeremy said, “When do you go?”
“Day after tomorrow.”
“Hell.” Sex Gun left the next day to play a benefit for a drug
rehab program. He said, “So, since this is it, how about a goodbye
kiss?” His smile was just a little bit evil.
Zanna knew a challenge when she heard one. Okay, buster, you
asked for it, she thought. She leaned full against him, and kissed


167


him thoroughly. She could easily feel his response, and for a split
second she wanted to…
Then she stepped back, out of reach, and said, “Goodnight.”
Jeremy was breathing hard. He said, “Huh?”
She gave him her own version of the wicked grin. “See you
around,” she said, as she went into the house.
Jeremy, still standing in the driveway, wondered if you could
actually die from not having sex. He thought it might be possible.
Certainly, sometimes it felt like it.



168









Chapter 17



Out and About
Entertainment Now magazine
…and at the premiere of Lars Heller’s latest film “Single Family
Dwelling,” Sex Gun rocker Jeremy Kane stepped out with
actress Ashley Laughton. The pair were taking a break from
work commitments, as Kane, 36, is getting ready to go on tour,
and Laughton, 25, will soon start work on the remake of “Pajama
Game.”

Hollywood News
…the benefit for the Los Angeles food shelf drew out a number of
local luminaries, including Jeremy Kane of the alternative rock
band Sex Gun, and flavor-of-the-month Ashley Laughton.

Sex Gun fan site Bulletin Board
-Has Jeremy dumped Zanna? Freak3
-how could he, he never had her. Gunslinger
-that was quick! Norah
-hey, Ashley’s quite the babe. MikeS
-she’s a pea brain. Freak3
-don’t believe everything…surfdude
-If he did, he’s insane. Howl


The first Zanna knew about it was when a journalist doing a feature
on Killer App asked her casually when she and Jeremy had broken
up. They were backstage at the Dane County Coliseum in Madison,
Wisconsin. Zanna had an incipient cold and was feeling rotten
anyway. She was chilled and shivery, and hoping she’d be able to


169


get through their set before her voice gave out.
Jump Cut was doing a ten date spin through the Midwest with
Killer App, who were on a prolonged national tour. Zanna quite
liked KA’s music, but privately thought they were fairly
reprehensible people. Jump Cut made a point of playing and getting
the hell out of the way. Several members of KA, including their
singer Adam Leskar, had shown considerable interest in Zanna
herself, and her band and crew were under strict orders to make sure
she was never left alone with them. Zanna thought it was ironic that
Sex Gun had such a wild reputation, when from what she’d seen,
they were practically wholesome compared to Killer App.
The writer, a young man named Jake Something, smiled at
Zanna, who was huddled on the couch in the hospitality room. He
had apparently just finished talking with Leskar, and they stopped in
to get drinks. Jake paused in front of Zanna, and asked, “So, any
comments on why you and Jeremy called it quits?”
She looked up, startled. He said, “At least, I take it you’re off,
since Ashley Laughton seems to be his constant companion these
days.”
Zanna was at a loss for words. Her head felt thick and she
couldn’t quite take in what he was saying. Surprisingly, Adam came
to her rescue.
“Let her be, Jake, she’s not feeling good,” he told the writer.
“And anyway, I’m way more fun than Jeremy Kane ever was, so do
you blame her for ditching him, when she can have me?” He gave
Zanna an exaggerated leer for Jake’s benefit, and said, “The others
should be in our dressing room. I’ll catch up to you in a minute,”
and he practically shoved the writer out the door. Turning around,
he regarded her for a moment, then came over to the couch and sat
down by Zanna’s feet. She eyed him with some trepidation; she felt
too lousy for fending off passes.
Adam said, “You don’t know what he’s talking about, do you?”
“No,” she admitted.
“Jeremy’s been seen at some social functions lately with Ashley,
and she’s been very chatty about him on the Internet,” he told her.
Zanna said, “Oh.” She added, “It’s not my lookout. We’re not –
whatever.”
“Glad to hear it,” said Adam, giving her a speculative look.


170


“Although he sounded in that MusicTown interview like he’d follow
you to the end of the earth and back.”
Zanna blushed. She knew exactly what part of the interview had
caught Adam’s attention. “Don’t believe everything you read,” she
said curtly.
“If you didn’t look so miserable, I’d take advantage of this
temporary lapse on the part of your chaperones,” he said, patting her
foot, “to find out for myself.”
“Don’t kid yourself you’d get anywhere,” she told him sharply.
He laughed. He was an attractive man in his early thirties, with
blonde hair cut short (for his last drug court appearance) and
incongruous dimples. Rumor had it that he had a notable appetite
for both groupies and drugs, and Zanna hadn’t seen anything that
would make her think any differently.
Spike, Jump Cut’s tour manager, entered just then, looking
slightly alarmed at the sight of Adam sitting with Zanna. Adam got
up in a leisurely way, and sighed ostentatiously. “I guess we’ll
never know,” he said to her, and left.

Over the next few days, she saw the pictures and news snippets
about Jeremy and Ashley, and took a look at the Internet. Adam
was right, Ashley’s website featured a gushy monologue on how
wonderful Jeremy was. It read more like something a Sex Gun fan
would write though, then anyone who actually knew him.
Still, it made her alternately depressed and savagely angry, and
that was what was really worrisome. She didn’t want to care this
much.
Their last night with Killer App was in St. Louis. Zanna’s cold
was almost gone, but she was run down and looking forward to
going home. The audience seemed to be mostly what Andy
referred to as POWs – Pissed Off Whiteboys. They yelled lewd
remarks and by the end of Jump Cut’s set, Zanna was fantasizing
about going postal with an ouzi.
She stomped off the stage, glad to be done. “That sucked,” said
David, behind her, and she agreed. They passed Adam, KA’s
drummer and several blackleathered, blacklipsticked girls smoking a
joint in the hallway. Adam said lazily, “Having a good time?” and
Zanna replied incautiously, “Your fans are totally without


171


redeeming societal value.”
Adam said, “Obnoxious little motherfuckers, aren’t they?” The
girls looked insulted. Adam didn’t appear to care. He said to
Zanna, “I left you a farewell gift in your dressing room,” then
laughed at her expression. “No tricks,” he said. “Don’t look that
way. You’ll like it, trust me.”
She thought that Adam Leskar was about the last person in the
world she’d trust, but she said merely, “Thanks. Hope the rest of
your tour goes well, “ she added politely.
Adam laughed again. He looked pretty stoned. “It won’t be
nearly as much fun without you to fantasize about,” he said
mockingly. She left that unanswered as she continued on to Jump
Cut’s dressing room with David.
True to his word, there was a box with a big red bow on the table.
Zan read the tag. “To Zanna who I dream about and lust over
endlessly, forget that loser Jeremy and run away with me, with love
and the promise of hot sex, Adam.” She had to grin, and put it aside
as a bizarre tour souvenir.
She untied the bow, and lifted the lid of the box. Inside was what
looked to be a much washed and faded black t-shirt. Curious, with
her bandmates looking on, she lifted it out, and started to laugh.
It was an old Nirvana tour shirt, which had been cut out in the
style of the ones she usually wore on stage. Over the Nirvana logo
had been superimposed a red circle with a line through it, in the
international “NO” symbol.
They all broke up, and the tense mood that had prevailed for the
past few days lightened considerably.
Andy said, “Well, he may be a drugged out sleaze, but at least
he’s got a sense of humor.” Matt said to Zanna, “You should wear it
at our first gig with Sex Gun.”
“What?” She turned to him, eyes widening.
Andy said, “You haven’t checked your email lately, have you?
We’re opening for the first two legs of their east coast tour.”
She didn’t know if she wanted to swear or cry.

It was on the bus that night that David dropped his bombshell.
He and Matt were sitting at the table, when Zanna and Andy got
on. David said, “Hey you two, join us for a minute. We need to


172


talk.”
Zanna muttered, “I hate it when people say that,” but she slid in
next to Matt.
They looked at David expectantly. He leaned back, and said,
“Jennifer’s pregnant.” Jennifer was his girlfriend of two years.
Matt said, “Wow.”
“Is that good news?” asked Andy shrewdly.
David smiled, a bit sheepishly. “I think so,” he answered. “We
were headed in that direction, it’s just moving up the timetable.
We’re getting married at Christmas.”
“Congratulations,” said Zanna politely. David chuckled, since
everyone knew of her lack of enthusiasm for the institution. “Thank
you, Z,” he said.
Matt said slowly “So what happens to us? The band, I mean.”
David looked somewhat distressed. “I feel really bad about this,”
he said. “But I think my priorities have to be with Jen. I can’t do
this parent thing over, you know? I want to get it right, and I think
that means being with her.” He went on “We’ve talked about it, and
she doesn’t think it’s a big deal if I’m not around much in the early
months. So I can stay on through most of the winter, if you want.”
“Well.” Andy sat back, and looked at the others. “We knew it
wasn’t going to last forever. And at some point I have to go back to
the shop. I can’t stick Jack with all of it indefinitely.”
“And Z’s leave is only until next fall,” remembered Matt.
Zanna said to David, “You’re right. If you’re doing the family
thing, do it well.”
Andy said thoughtfully, “There’s the practical aspect, though.
The longer we’re out there, the more CDs we sell.”
“So we do the Sex Gun tour, and see what else there might be. I
suppose we’ll have to let Rachel know pretty soon,” said Matt.
David said, “You know, you could just replace me. I don’t have
a problem with that.”
“Come to that,” added Andy, “you could find a bass player too,
and keep going longer. Z’s got until September, but I’m only good
through May. You might want to think about a new lineup over
Christmas.”
Matt and Zanna exchanged a look, and he said reluctantly, “I’d
hate to do that.”


173


Zanna said bluntly, “I can’t see it. And bass players and
drummers are a lot harder to come by than guitar players.”
David laughed. “Zan, it’s easier to get them when the band’s had
a hit record.”
“Still,” she said stubbornly. “It wouldn’t be the same.”
“Just look at all the lessons from rock history,” Matt agreed.
“The Peppers with Dave Navarro.”
“Well, what about the Peppers with John Frusciante?” countered
David. “He replaced Hillel Slovak, and played on Blood Sugar Sex
Magik, arguably their best effort.”
“Not a good example,” objected Zanna. “Given that he freaked
out and quit in the middle of a tour.”
“Okay. Consider Nirvana self destructing, but the Foofighters
rising from the ashes,” said David.
“That’s a terrible analogy. They’re different bands! All they had
in common was one guy, Dave Grohl,” said Zanna.
“Van Halen?”
“Sucked with and without David Lee Roth.”
“Ouch.”
“Well, it’s not like you have to decide anything tonight,” Andy
said.
“True,” said Matt. He gave Zanna a gentle shove, and she slid
off the banquette to let him out. He said to David, “Good night,
Dad,” and went to lie down. Zanna smiled at the other two and
followed Matt back to sleeping quarters.
He swung his legs up and moved over to make room for her. She
sat down next to him, and said, “Well.”
“Yeah.”
She said abruptly, “It matters most for you. The rest of us – we
knew, sooner or later, we’d go back to the real world. But you
always planned on doing this, didn’t you?”
Matt slid the tie off his ponytail, and shook out his chestnut hair,
which hung to the middle of his back, thick and glossy. He pulled
his shirt off, and stretched out, linking his hands behind his head, a
move that made the dragon’s wing ripple interestingly across his
shoulder. He was wearing ancient sweatpants that slouched down
on his hips. It occurred to Zanna that her lead player was pretty
damned attractive.


174


“Yeah, I did. And I gotta admit, Z, in a way I saw you as my
ticket in. There are a lot of good guitar players around, but it takes
something extra to front a band, and for sure, you’ve got it.
Although if we never played another gig together, I would still hope
we’d stay friends.”
Zanna picked up a pillow and tossed it to the other end, so that
they were lying head to toe. Matt smiled, knowing this to be one of
her erratic boundaries, and she stuck her tongue out at him. He
laughed, and slipped his arm around her leg with casual familiarity.
She was struck by how well they knew each other. She was closer to
Matt than she had been with any lover. Certainly this relaxed
quality was in marked contrast to how she usually interacted with
Jeremy Kane. The thought of Jeremy was like a sudden stab of pain,
taking her by surprise.
Matt said curiously, “Are you really going to be able to walk
away from it so easily? ”
Ruefully she said, “It’s not like I have much choice. The
university won’t give me another leave of absence. And if I quit my
teaching position, I might never find another one, it’s a tight field.
And- I don’t know, I guess I need the security of a job with health
insurance, and a pension, all that. It would be fairly insane to give it
up to play rock roulette.”
“Given your advanced years,” agreed Matt gravely. She kicked
him lightly. “Smart ass,” she said. “You know what I mean. But
you,” she went on. “You can’t very well go back to making
cappuccino. You were born to do this, Matt.”
He laughed. “I think the same thing about you, Z,” he told her.
She sighed, and abruptly switched ends and curled up in the circle of
his arm. She said softly, “Funny how things change. Now the idea
of returning to a normal life seems weird.”
Matt kissed her temple lightly, and said, “Well, you never know.”


RoclNci Ncv:linc
JO¹R NOJL:
:LX C¹N vill do un cu:i cou:i iour hcIorc hcudin_ io
Luroµc Ior u couµlc oI vccl:. Jhcir :cvcnih ulhun,


175


¨ ÀIicr ihc lurricunc,¨ vu: rcccnil_ ccriiIicd douhlc
µluiinun, und ihc hund i: loolin_ Iorvurd io iulin_ ii on
ihc roud.
¨ Wc' vc _oi u loi oI nuicriul io vorl viih, hoih ncv
und old,¨ :uid Ironinun 1crcn_ lunc. ¨ :o _ou cun
cxµcci u loi oI diIIcrcni :cili:i: l don' i ihinl un_ ivo
:hov: vill hc ihc :unc.¨
¹nlilc nun_ oI iodu_' : hi_ nunc:, :cx Cun rclic: on
ihcir uniguc hlcnd oI nu:ic und uihlciicull_ cxµcndcd
cncr__ Ior ihcir livc µcrIornuncc:. ¨ Jhcrc' : no
chorco_ruµh_, no Iunc_ :µcciul cIIcci:. Wc hclicvc in
:µoniuncii_, und ir_in_ io :ound ihc hc:i vc cun,¨ :uid
lunc. ¨ Wc' rc ncvcr _oin_ io µui our:clvc: in ihc
µo:iiion oI :u_in_ oh, vc cun' i chun_c ihui :on_, ihc
li_hiin_ dc:i_ncr nccd: ihrcc du_: noiicc. Wc' rc u
hund, noi u Lroudvu_ :hov.¨
Oµcnin_ Ior :cx Cun vill hc uµ:iuri ulicrnuiivc
roclcr: 1¹Ml C¹J. Jhc choicc oI iourin_ µurincr hu:
rui:cd :onc c_chrov:, _ivcn ihc runor: rc_urdin_
1crcn_ lunc und 1unµ Cui' : Zunnu Muriin. Àril 1onc:
dovnµlu_: ihc conncciion. ¨ Lool, vc don' i choo:c
vho' : oµcnin_ Ior u: hu:cd on vho 1crcn_ vuni: io
:lccµ viih,¨ hc :uid. ¨ Jhc_ vcrc u lo_icul choicc,
_ivcn ihcir :i_lc oI nu:ic. Jhc_ urcn' i lilc u:, hui
ihcir :ound i: conµlincniur_ und ihc_' rc µcoµlc vc cun
:iund io huvc uround.¨ lc _rin: ui ihui· :cx Cun i:
inIunou: Ior noi _ciiin_ ulon_ viih :onc oI ihcir
µrcviou: oµcnin_ uci:. 1onc: :u_: ¨ Ài ihi: :iu_c oI our
livc:, vc' d |u:i u: :oon noi huvc our vcnuc: liiicrcd
viih µcoµlc hucl:iu_c doin_ dru_: und huvin_ :cx in ihc
hullvu_. Onc oI ihc nicc ihin_: uhoui 1unµ Cui i: ihui
ihc_' rc ull Iunciionul uduli:.¨
Wuich RoclNci Ior duic: und locuiion: oI :hov: luicr
ihi: vccl.


176





Jump Cut Diary
Dateline: somewhere in Wisconsin

Besides the big news that we’ll be opening for Sex Gun, you
can also catch us in the next issue of Soundline.

And from the mail bag:

Q: How come the media focuses on Zanna so much? Don’t
they know Jump Cut is a band, not just one person?

A: I’m almost glad you brought that up, because it’s been
really bothering me, too! (this is Zanna, as opposed to the
collective jc, now). When Soundline did an article on us
recently, they wanted to do just me for a possible cover shot,
and weren’t too happy when I said it was all of us, or nothing
(and we’ll see if we make their cover next month, or not…) I
think there’s a general tendency to give singers more
coverage, although in our case, we do have two
singer/songwriters – and god knows, I’m not the one with the
most musical ability. Women are still rare enough in this
genre, at least as part of a band rather than a solo act, to
have some novelty value. I mean, how many members of No
Doubt can you name, other than Gwen Stefani? Garbage?
The Pretenders? See my point? You know Gwen, Shirley,
Chrissie, because the press tells you about them, a whole lot
more than the guys they play with.
It’s hard to figure out what you can do about it, though,
aggravating as it is. If I refuse to do interviews, it hurts the
band in a different way – we don’t get that publicity, at all.
And when I talk to journalists, all I can do is give them my
take, I can’t actually control what they decide to print.


177









Chapter 18



Zanna felt pretty bleak by the time she got home to St. Paul. After
unpacking, and doing some desultory housekeeping, she wandered
aimlessly around her apartment, her mind on a dreary track. Her
band was breaking up, and her – what was Jeremy, anyway? Not
her lover, not really her friend, either. Well, her whatever was with
another woman.
She hated feeling this way. This sense of loss, when it was
nothing she had even really had. She knew, deep down, that there
might well be nothing to it. It didn’t seem like Jeremy, somehow.
But it made her aware of her own vulnerability. Even if it was
nothing – she hated that anyone had the power to make her feel like
this.
And coming so quickly on the heels of the news about
Jennifer…well, they pretty much knew from the start it couldn’t last.
They never planned on lengthy careers as rock stars…she wasn’t at
all sure she was cut out for it anyway. The nomadic lifestyle was a
bit rough. And who was she kidding? She was a lawyer, a college
professor, for crying out loud. An adult with a career and a 401K.
How had she ever got caught up in this? Now she was in a band
with a couple of top 10 hits (at least on the modern rock charts,
although, granted, lots of cities didn’t even have modern rock radio
stations). She had slept with one guy who’d been on the cover of
Rolling Stone, and dated another. The last time she’d gone into a
Borders book and music store, she’d been shocked to see hers and
Matt’s likeness on a big poster advert for Taste This. It all seemed
pretty surrealistic. And one way or another, before long her ride on
the rock and roll rollercoaster was going to be over, and it was back


178


to-
Pumpkins and mice, she thought crazily. Otherwise known as the
day job. And the life that she had, after all, at one time been fairly
content with.
Hadn’t she?
Well, she couldn’t solve it all tonight. She felt restless, and on
edge, and with sudden resolution, she decided to go out.
She changed into a short skirt and fitted top in stretchy bottle
green velvet, with her usual black tights and boots, and motorcycle
jacket. She put on eyeliner and mascara, and dark red lipstick.
Whistling in the dark, she thought ironically.
From habit, she went down to the Black Dog, where it had all
begun. Walking in, she stopped abruptly and blinked in disbelief.
Matt was behind the counter. It was a crazy time warped moment,
like none of the past few months had happened. She knew exactly
how Dorothy felt, coming to in her bedroom after the tornado.
Matt glanced over, saw her and grinned cheerfully. “Chai?” he
asked.
“Sure,” she replied, looking at him quizzically. “So – was it all a
dream sequence and I just woke up?”
Matt said dryly, “I’m touching base with reality. Just in case.”
As he slid her cup across the counter, Zan slipped onto a stool, took
a sip and said, “That’s pretty much what I’ve been thinking about.”
“Yeah? I thought you might be distracted by – the other stuff.”
He watched her closely.
She said, a little sadly, “What’s the point? There wasn’t
anywhere for it to go.”
Matt crossed his arms and leaned on the counter. “I think you’re
wrong about that, Z,” he said softly.
She met his eyes, and he was taken aback by the pain in hers.
Abruptly, she drained her cup, and said, “Are you actually working,
or just hanging out?”
“Hanging out. Why?”
“Want to go to the Firehouse?”
He looked surprised. The Firehouse was a ballroom dance club,
where they had gone pretty regularly in the “old” days. It was
where they’d gotten the practice with the flashy swing dancing
moves they’d incorporated into their performances.


179


“Sure,” he said.

The club was fairly crowded, but people made room for them on the
floor.
Zanna noticed that they were getting a lot of looks, and wondered
if people remembered them from before, recognized them from
Jump Cut, or if maybe they were just a weird looking couple. Well,
Matt was pretty hot, really, she’d stare at him herself.
It felt good to dance again, and with Matt it was effortless, they
knew each other so well as partners. They spun through the fast
numbers, and did a slow, sexy tango. She could feel the music in
her blood, the beat inside her head, even as she felt Matt’s hand on
the small of her back. The song ended, and they drifted over to the
side of the room, hand in hand.
“Want to go see who’s playing at the Entry?” Matt asked her.
She knew she didn’t want to go home, and it was as good a plan
as any. “Lead on,” she said.
The band happened to be Daystar, who they knew slightly from a
festival they’d played. Ryan Cole, the singer/guitar player,
recognized them and waved. Matt nodded back and Zan blew him
a kiss.
“You notice anything different?” Matt asked her.
“Uh huh. We’re getting watched a lot. People know who we
are,” she said. “It’s kind of weird. I guess I thought we’d come
back, and things would still be the same. Like a time warp. But it’s
not.”
“I guess that’s what they mean when they say you can’t go home
again,” said Matt thoughtfully.
“God, that’s depressing!” she said feelingly. Matt looked at her
with concern, but said nothing.
She seemed to shake off the mood, though, and ordered a Corona.
They listened to the band, and danced some more. On the break,
Ryan came out and chatted with them, and asked if they’d like to
come up and play on something. Zanna and Matt exchanged a look,
and she asked, “Like what?” They compared cover play lists, and
settled on the Plimsouls’ Million Miles Away. It was fun. She did
the vocals, with Ryan joining in here and there, and Matt played
lead. Their audience loved it. Zanna felt a sudden sharp pang; she


180


loved this, being onstage with a band, everyone contributing to
make a whole greater than the sum of its parts. She loved that
feeling of collective energy. God, she was going to miss
it….Afterwards, they high fived, and Ryan kissed Zanna, and she
and Matt left the stage and went back to the bar.
She ordered tequila, straight up. Matt looked surprised, since
Zanna rarely drank. She caught it, and said to him, “All the demons
are loose tonight. Join me?”
He nodded to the bartender, and said, “Is this about Jeremy, or
about the band?”
She considered it “Not sure,” she admitted. “And I don’t care.
Screw it. It’s a crazy world, and tonight I’m going to be insane right
along with it.”
The bartender set the shots in front of them, with a saltshaker and
slices of lime. Zanna smiled. She turned to Matt and there was a
touch of wicked mischief in her look. She picked up his hand,
holding his eyes, and slowly ran her tongue across the inside of his
wrist, then shook the saltshaker over it. She tossed down the shot,
and sucked the salt from his arm. The feel of her mouth against his
skin made him catch his breath. She picked up the lime and sucked
on it, still looking at him.
He did the same back to her. She signaled for another round.
They danced some more, their bodies close, sharply aware of
each other, in a way that was different than their usual easy
familiarity. Matt did a quick mental calculation – given that she
normally didn’t drink, and that she didn’t weigh much, Z had to be
pretty intoxicated. He was hoping he had enough strength of mind
to be a gentleman about this, and just get her home safely, when she
kissed him.
Well, shit, he thought, this isn’t helping. So much for willpower,
he kissed her back. It wasn’t like they hadn’t done that before, after
all….
But this was different. Always before, he could tell she was
holding back. Even though, in the past, they had exchanged the
occasional sexy kiss, there had always been that sense of something
held in abeyance. But not now. He held her, felt her body fit
naturally against his, and he kissed her long and deep, and she didn’t
pull away, didn’t hesitate. She just kissed him back.


181


God. What was he supposed to do now?
“Let’s get out of here,” he said. She nodded.

They went back to Matt’s place, a loft in a downtown warehouse
that also housed their old hangout, the Black Dog coffee bar. They
were kissing in the elevator, in the hallway, at his door. They made
it inside, and Matt threw his coat blindly in the general direction of
the rack, heard it hit the floor as he slid Zanna’s leather jacket off
her shoulders. He kissed her mouth, her cheek, the tender place
under her jaw, her throat. Her eyes were closed, her head tilted
back, her body leaning into his. His hand slid down her hip, along
her thigh, pulling her leg up in a close parody of the tango move
they’d done earlier. Now though, their bodies fit tightly together,
the urgency of their need blatant.
He pulled her shirt off, kissing her lips again as his hand cupped
her breast. Through the silky black nylon of her bra, his thumb
rubbed over her nipple, teasing, and she gave a soft gasp, and he felt
her shudder and her hips rocked against him instinctively. He
picked her up, carried her over to the bed, set her down gently and
removed, in rapid succession, her boots, his shoes, his shirt. Then
he was lying with her, feeling the satiny warmth of her skin against
his, his hands tangled in her hair, touching her face as they kissed.
And it was the realization that she was not stopping this, that
made him pause. He drew back a little. “Hey. Zanna. Look at me.”
She opened her eyes reluctantly. He saw, with shock, that they
were brimming with tears. He said softly, “Oh no, Zanna, no.
Don’t, please. I’m sorry. It’s okay.” He started to move back, but
she surprised him by suddenly hugging him tightly, and whispering,
“Don’t. Don’t stop.”
He lay on his side, with her close against him, and held her and
said, “What’s going on with you, Z?”
“Oh, Matt, I don’t know,” she said, her voice low and sad. “It
feels like the end of the world. Where all bets are off, all rules are
gone.” She paused. “And I’m adrift, and lost, and pretty drunk, and
I can’t remember why I always told you no.”
Matt said gently, “Z, is this some kind of revenge on Jeremy?”
She shook her head.
“Then why? Why now?” he asked.


182


“Because – oh, so many things. Because I’m not a nice person.
Because it feels good. Because you’re beautiful, and I love you, and
a part of me has always wanted to, anyway. Because I hurt, and I
want comfort, and I’m selfish enough to take it in you.”
“You’re welcome to it, Z. Doesn’t make you a bad person.”
“I’m not so sure. I still can’t promise anything.” She laughed, a
short ironic sound. “I can pretty much promise nothing.”
“I know.” He held her away from him, so he could see her face.
He said softly “Zanna, I have wanted you since the day I met you.
It’s always been more important to be your friend, but that’s never
stopped me from wanting to make love to you, and if you’re saying
yes, it’s not going to stop me now.” He kissed her, his mouth
lingering on hers, then went on. “I’m not kidding myself that this is
going to last. But you want to know, more than anything else, why
it is I want this? Even if it’s just tonight?”
She nodded, silent, her eyes big and dark in the light from the
street outside.
Matt said, “Because we write these songs together, about passion
that’s deep and intense, desire, love that burns like fire – and I’ve
never experienced it. I’ve never felt that kind of longing, searing,
caring feeling for anyone but you. And just once, I want to know
what it’s like to feel it all the way through.” His smile had a wry
twist, as he added “And I’m not a nice person, either, because I’m
willing to take you now, even knowing your head’s a mess from
tequila and Jeremy.”
She said steadily, looking into his eyes, “This is not about him.
This is about us. Here and now. That’s all.”

The night stretched into the weekend. They made love in every
variety of mood, from hard and hot, to slow and sweet, to just
having fun. For the next two days, they hardly left the loft. It was
as if a glitch in space and time had isolated the two of them in their
own narrow world, and for the moment outside reality had little
meaning. When they got hungry, they’d throw on some clothes,
Zanna borrowing from Matt’s wardrobe, and go downstairs to the
Dog. Then they’d come back up, and read, or play guitars, or listen
to music, and eventually the attraction that had always been between
them would again take hold, and clothes would be carelessly


183


discarded, and all the possibilities of two sensual people who love
each other and know their time is limited would unfold. They
explored each other inch by inch, until they knew one another’s
bodies almost as well as they knew their minds. They made love in
the bed, in the bath, on the couch, on the floor, on the kitchen
counter. And in between, Zanna got more sleep than she had in
months.
By late Sunday afternoon they were satiated, sore, and curiously
content. They were lying in bed, in each other’s arms, when there
was a knock at the door. Reluctantly, Matt hauled on his sweatpants
and since there was nowhere to go in the one room loft, Zanna put
on his old plaid flannel bathrobe. They both knew it would be
perfectly obvious to anyone what they’d been up to, but somehow,
they didn’t care.
It was David. He started to say “Hey, lazybones, how come-”
then caught sight of Zanna and stopped short.
“Oh, my,” he said.
“That pretty much sums it up,” agreed Matt.
“Is this a good idea?” asked David.
Matt and Zanna said “Yes,” and “No,” respectively, at the same
time, looked at each other and grinned. “Depends on how you look
at it,” said Matt.
Zanna said, “I’m going to take a shower,” and disappeared into
the bathroom. Matt put some coffee on. It seemed appropriate,
since they’d just gotten up.
David and Matt sat down at the kitchen counter, and David
asked, “So what happens now?”
Matt thought about it, not for the first time. “Same as before, I
expect,” he answered finally. “Only difference is we’re friends who
know each other a little better, now.”
“Maybe…” David started, but Matt shook his head. “It’s just not
meant to be,” he said. “And I’m okay with it, really.”
“Because of Jeremy? Is that why you don’t think it could work?”
“Even without him.” Matt’s expression was rueful. “She was
right all along. I wouldn’t be able to do it, on her terms. I would
keep wanting more than she could give.” He got up and poured
coffee for both of them.
“I wonder if Jeremy can? Do it her way, I mean,” said David.


184


“Wouldn’t be surprised,” answered Matt. He grinned suddenly.
“They’re both such weirdos,” he said affectionately. “If they can
ever get past all the crap, I think they might have a chance for
something really good.”
“That’s a big if,” commented David, and Matt nodded.
Zanna emerged then, dressed in her own clothes, Matt noticed,
with a small pang of regret. She helped herself to some coffee, and
since there were only two barstools, hopped up on the counter,
swinging her legs. Matt took himself sternly to task mentally, and
repressed the memory that the sight of her, there on the counter,
invoked. He had a feeling his loft was never going to look quite the
same to him after this weekend; it was if the sight of her there had
gotten imprinted on his retinas. Making an effort to sound normal,
he said, “So what do you think? Any changes for the Sex Gun
tour?”
“Add ‘Downtown’ and that Grass Roots thing as options for the
play list,” said David.
“Now that we’ve got more songs, we can change it around from
show to show,” added Zanna.
Matt said to her, “What are you going to do about Jeremy?” and
she replied, “Stay the hell away from him.”
Matt and David both looked skeptical. “Won’t work,” said
David.
“Got a better idea,” she said, but clearly it was a rhetorical
question, and she wouldn’t have liked their answers anyway. She
slid off the counter, saying “I have to be getting home,” adding to
Matt, “Walk me out?”
They went out to the elevator, and Zanna pushed the down
button. For a moment, they regarded each other in silence. Then
Matt said, “How are you doing?”
She smiled. “A lot better,” she said. “Thank you.”
He hugged her, hard. “My pleasure,” he said. “Very much so, in
fact.”
She asked, “Are we okay?” and he answered, “Yeah, we are.
Much as I hate to admit it, I would want to see you wake up every
morning, and go to sleep with you every night. It wouldn’t work.”
She said, “Well, let’s try really hard to not feel weird about this,
all right?” and he laughed and said, “It’s a deal, Z.” He kissed her


185


and said, “I have no regrets, Zanna.”
A smile lurked in her eyes. “Was it as educational as you
hoped?” she asked him.
“You have no idea,” he told her. The elevator door opened, and
he turned her around and smacked her backside lightly. “Get out of
here, you wanton woman,” he said. She was laughing back at him
as the doors closed.



186



SEX GUN FAN CLUB MEET & GREET FOR CONTEST
WINNERS
Q & A with Johnny Deal and Daniel da Silva

Q: Daniel, what kind of guitar do you play on “After the
Hurricane?”

Daniel: That’s an old Gibson. I got it years ago, from a guy in
Texas. I also play it on “I will find a way.”

Q: What are your hobbies? Like, what do you do on the road
to keep from getting bored?

Daniel: I listen to music.

Johnny: You’re talking about two different things. At home,
Arik, Jeremy and I all surf a lot, but obviously you can’t do that
often on tour! But I like to go to movies, and I’m getting
interested in photography, so this time I’m bringing a camera
and I’m going to do a photo essay on the tour. Arik’s kind of
into the Internet, and he brings his laptop along. Jeremy
reads all the time.

Q: do any of you have girlfriends?

Daniel: umm.

Johnny: not at the moment, want my phone number? (laughs)
Arik’s seeing someone, and Jeremy doesn’t exactly have a
girlfriend, but he doesn’t have a vacancy either.

Q: is it true that Jeremy’s dating Ashley Laughton?

Johnny: No, it’s not. She came up to him at some big social
events, and someone took their picture, and it gave people
the wrong idea. I guess she has kind of a crush on him, but
he’s definitely not interested.


187



Daniel: Jeremy said he’d strangle her if she came near him
again.

Q: what are your favorite songs to play?

Daniel: it changes. This week it’s “Troubles.”

Johnny: Believe it or not, I think it’s still “Come Hard.” There
are other songs that I think we sound better on, as a band, but
for drumming that one’s hard to beat.



188









Chapter 19



Rolling Stone, Loose Talk: “You see Zanna Martin, and
mostly you want to fuck her. At least, I do, anyway. But you
watch her for a while, and you want to get to know her. And if
you’re around her for any length of time, you’re ready to marry
the woman.” Adam Leskar, of Killer App, after touring with
Jump Cut.

Zanna managed to avoid being alone with Jeremy until the eighth
night out. It wasn’t easy. She was constantly on edge, because she
was trying to do it without being obvious, or seeming rude. The
tension was taking a toll on her: she had no appetite and hadn’t
gotten more than four hours of sleep in a night since the tour started.
He finally caught up with her after Sex Gun’s set in Lexington,
Kentucky. She had stayed behind after Jump Cut was done to talk
to some fans who had won backstage passes (in an odd way, they
reminded her of her former students). By then it was almost time
for Sex Gun to go on. There were a lot of people hanging around,
planning on watching from the sidelines, including members of the
band Rats Ass, who were playing the arena the next night. Zanna
decided to stay herself. With a burst of inspiration, she persuaded a
staff person to give her a SECURITY shirt and baseball cap.
Remembering what had happened at Oceans, she thought that
camouflage was a good idea if she was going to be anywhere near
the stage.
She hadn’t seen them play yet on this tour, and as the lights went
down she felt the same thrill of anticipation that any fan would.
From the first notes of ‘After the Hurricane’ she was captivated by
the sheer power of their performance.


189


She meant to leave before the encore, but they had changed the
setlist and she was taken by surprise. Not wanting to go backstage,
she stayed where she was, talking with a couple of crew members.
Then the band was back, and playing ‘Armed and Dangerous’
which she hadn’t heard them do before. She thought it sounded
good, but noticed Daniel didn’t seem happy with it, shaking his head
and making a face at Arik as they finished. They closed with ‘Body
Language.’ Zanna was on the opposite side from where Sex Gun
would exit, thinking as soon as they were out of the way she’d slip
out to the bus. They were going on to Knoxville that night.
She had reckoned without Jeremy’s sharp eyes, or extrasensory
awareness of her, or whatever it was. As they called out the ritual
farewell, he turned the opposite way and came right to her.
“Nice disguise,” he said. “Almost worked.”
She thought, fuming, that it was just typical of him to say
something that was impossible to answer, and seemed to put her in
the wrong.
He fell into step just behind her as she left the stage, and said
pleasantly, “How long are you planning on keeping this up?”
Again, his calm assumption that they both knew what he was
talking about made it difficult to respond. She ran lightly down the
stairs, Jeremy in her wake. At the bottom he swung around her to
block her path.
Zanna said, “Shouldn’t you go change? Tanner said we’re
running late anyway.” He was, as usual by the end of the show,
naked from the waist up and his skin showed a fine sheen of
perspiration. She added, “Good show, by the way. Tell Daniel I
liked the new lead on Golden Girl.”
“Tell him yourself. Ride with us to the next stop,” he said.
“Sorry, can’t tonight. I need the sleep,” she said, and was quite
proud of how casual she sounded.
He started to speak, when they were joined by one of the guys
from Rats Ass, who Zanna had seen earlier. He flicked a look at
her, and said to Jeremy, “Hello, Kane. Long time.”
Jeremy said, with surprising rudeness, “Let’s keep it that way.”
As Zanna glanced at him, he put his hand in the middle of her back
and gave her a little push, saying, “Let’s go, Z.”
The guy said, sounding unpleasantly amused, “There’s a party at


190


our hotel. You should come.”
Jeremy said tightly, “Not interested,” and Zanna suddenly
understood what ‘party’ meant in this context,
The guy said, “Oh, come on – back to the good, bad old days.
You’re not fooling anyone.” He added, giving Zanna a once over,
“Bring the girlfriend. She looks good for a time.”
Jeremy went completely still. Arik or Johnny could have told
Zan what was coming next, that this moment of utter immobility
inevitably was followed by an explosion of rage.
But the combination of this distasteful reminder of Jeremy’s drug
problems, an issue that still loomed large between them, and the
offensive remark triggered Zanna’s own temper. Beating Jeremy to
it, with a quickness that caught the interloper off guard, she caught
his arm by wrist and elbow and spun him around. With one hand
yanking his arm up his back, she put the other on his shoulder and
slammed him face first into the wall, as Jeremy watched in
amazement.
Her voice had a razor edged tone that he’d never heard her use
before. “He said, we’re not interested. Now get the fuck away from
us or I will really hurt you.” She let go, and stepped back. The
guy’s hands went up to his face, and came away bloody.
Broken nose, diagnosed Jeremy. It was a concrete wall, after all.
His own anger ebbed away in the face of Zanna’s sudden ferocity.
He became aware that they had attracted the attention of everyone in
the vicinity. He took Zanna by the hand and pulled her along with
him, announcing to the onlookers, “This would be an example of
just saying no.”
They rounded the corner and ran into Tanner and Matt, who were
evidently looking for them. Matt glanced at Zanna and said alertly,
“What’s wrong?”
Jeremy said matter-of-factly, “Z just beat up a drug dealer.”
“She what?” said Tanner.
“Well, technically, maybe not a dealer. Definitely a purveyor,
though.” Jeremy went on, “You know him, Kurt Lytle from Rats
Ass. Piece of shit.”
Matt looked at Zanna. She said tersely, “He was in the way.”
She was still angry, but also increasingly appalled by what she’d
done.


191


Matt said, “Well, they’re waiting for us. C’mon,” and Zanna said
a barely audible goodnight to Jeremy and Tanner, and walked away
with him.
Jeremy hesitated. Tanner said impatiently, “Go clean up, would
you, and hurry. We’re late,” and Jeremy said abruptly, “In a
minute,” and loped after Zanna.
They were already on the bus. Jeremy took the steps in one long
stride, then paused, on the threshold. Halfway down the bus, he saw
Zanna slide onto a double seat next to Matt. His arm went around
her, and her head dropped onto his shoulder. The lead player asked
her something, his head close to hers, and Jeremy saw her answer
briefly. Then Matt pulled her into his lap, holding her closely with
both arms wrapped around her, rocking her slightly. There was an
intimacy in how she sought, and he gave, comfort that gave Jeremy
a sharp pang of some unfamiliar emotion. Envy? Longing? Jeremy
didn’t know if they were lovers in the conventional sense, but there
was no doubting the depth of feeling between those two.
Matt glanced up, and saw him. Over Zanna’s head, he shook his
own briefly. “Not now,” he mouthed. Jeremy nodded in reluctant
understanding, turned and got back off the bus. Shivering in the
cold night air, still shirtless, he walked back into the arena, telling an
exasperated Tanner, “Five minutes, okay?”
It was more like fifteen minutes later that he joined the rest of
Sex Gun on their bus, having showered and changed. He told them
what had happened with Zanna.
“Good for her,” said Johnny. “The asshole had it coming.”
Daniel nodded in agreement.
Arik said quietly to Jeremy, “You okay?”
“Yeah. Kind of,” Jeremy said. He added honestly, “It was
weird, you know? It’s been a long time since anything like this has
come up. And for her to be there…” he shook his head.
Arik was privately glad to know that apparently for Jeremy there
had been no temptation. The singer’s concern was all for Zanna.
He was saying, “She had this look – I don’t know, of revulsion, I
guess, when she realized what he was talking about.” He paused.
“It made me think – how she must see me.”
“Have you talked to her about the whole drug thing?” Arik asked
him.


192


Jeremy shook his head. “Like I was about to bring that up.”
“But you should,” Daniel said unexpectedly. “What you don’t
know always seems worse. And you can tell she’s really straight, so
you can’t expect her to just know things, and understand. You’ve
got to share stuff with her.”
“Yeah. Maybe,” said Jeremy. “But since she isn’t talking to me
at all at the moment, it’s going to be kind of tough to have that
particular conversation.” He leaned back and said thoughtfully, “I
don’t see how it can get much worse. Right now, she thinks I went
out on her, she’s had my drug laden past thrown in her face, and her
lead player’s all too ready to give her whatever she needs.”
“Look on the bright side,” said Johnny. “At least, for a change,
you know where to find her.”

But it did Jeremy little good to know in theory where Zanna should
be. For the remainder of the first leg of the tour, she was as elusive
as ever. They no sooner got to a hotel than she changed her clothes
and took off for a run. She wasn’t spending much time in her room,
and she wasn’t going out to eat with the others. She didn’t even
hang out much with her band: Jeremy saw way more of them than
he did of her.

He had been somewhat grimly amused by the “No Nirvana” shirt,
which Zanna had indeed worn the first night of the tour. She wore it
again on the last night before the ten day break, when they played
Cincinnati, Ohio. Once again, there were well known visitors
backstage after the concert. When Jeremy saw who was talking to
Zanna, he immediately sought out the nearest member of Jump Cut,
who happened to be David.
“What the fuck is she doing with Adam Leskar?” he demanded
peremptorily.
David sighed inwardly, foreseeing trouble on the not too distant
horizon. “He’s got the hots for her,” he answered. They looked
across to where Adam had just put his hands around Zanna’s waist.
“He’s the one who gave her that shirt,” David added, as Adam was
apparently admiring his gift.
“Christ, don’t you guys have the sense to keep him the fuck away
from her,” snapped Jeremy. “He’s totally bad news.”


193


David was unflappable. “Some would say the same thing about
you,” he pointed out equably.
Jeremy said, “Adam Leskar makes me look like a fucking Boy
Scout. More junk probably goes up his nose in a month, than I put
in my veins in twenty years.” He stared balefully across to where
Adam was standing very close to Zanna, talking with her in apparent
amity.
He might have been somewhat reassured had he heard their
conversation.
Adam was saying, “Come on, Zanna, just think how much it
would piss off Jeremy to see you leave with me.”
“Believe it or not,” she said, “annoying Jeremy Kane is not
something I aspire to. He hasn’t done anything to me, and anyway,
I still have to work with him for the next three weeks.”
“I thought you had a break from touring?”
“We do, but I have to do a video with them,” she said glumly.
She was not looking forward to shooting “Magic Moment,”
seriously doubting that it would live up to the title.
Adam smiled lazily and said, “You should do one with me.”
Zanna, in spite of herself, laughed. “Give it up, Adam,” she said.
“I’m twice the age, and IQ, of what you’re used to.”
Leaning closer to her, he murmured, “But you drive me crazy,
Zanna, really you do. You’re still no.1 on my list of most fuckable
women.”
“What a coincidence,” she retorted. “You’re rapidly working
your way up to the no. 1 slot on my list of people I’d most like to
shove off a cliff.”
Adam threw his head back and laughed. One of his few
redeeming characteristics was that he didn’t take himself seriously.
“Game to you, Zanna,” he said. He took her chin in his hand and
before she could react, kissed her quick and hard on the mouth. Her
hand swung up but he caught her wrist, with a surprisingly quick
reflex. “Not this time,” he told her, with a gleam in his eyes. “No
pain unless you’re going to dish out the pleasure, too. Then you can
smack me around all you like.”
“Dream on,” she said.
“Oh, believe me, Zanna, I do,” he answered. She grinned,
unwillingly, at his unrepentant impudence. “Go away, Adam,


194


before I sic Jeremy on you,” she said.
He shook his head, as he walked away. “You wouldn’t do that,
Zan. I’ve noticed you fight your own wars.”

Jeremy, watching, was torn between going for Leskar and beating
the crap out of him, and taking advantage of the fact that Zanna was
temporarily alone. He opted for the latter. He went up to her, and
said, “Nice company you’re keeping.”
Zanna said wearily “Oh, shut up, Jeremy,” surprising both of
them. She went on “Could we call a truce for tonight, and skip the
sarcastic remarks for a change? It’s actually none of your business
who I talk to, anyway, any more than -” she broke off abruptly.
“Than what,” he pressed her. He wanted this out in the open.
She said flatly, without looking at him, “Than what you do, is
mine, all right? So would you mind either leaving me alone, or
talking about something else?”
This put him in an awkward position. If he persisted, he’d seem
churlish. Silently he looked down at her. He noticed suddenly that
she seemed to have lost weight, and she looked both drawn and
tired. There were dark shadows under her eyes, and the hollows of
her cheekbones were more pronounced.
He said gently, “Okay, Z, we’ll leave it for now.”
She said “Thanks,” and sounded like she meant it. The worst
thing, thought Jeremy, was that there was so much they needed to
talk about, to get through, if they were ever going to get anywhere,
and none of it was easy going. Sex and drugs and violence, all the
usual things that had dogged him from his earliest days in rock
music. With a grim burst of humor, he thought that she was
catching up to him in controversy. To quote Meat Loaf’s 80s hit,
two out of three ain’t bad.
He searched for a neutral topic. “So how do you like touring so
far?” he asked her.
She took the question seriously. “It’s hard,” she answered. “It’s
so disjointed – off the bus, into a hotel, into a venue, onto the stage,
off again, back on the bus- and people around you all the time. I
don’t see how you’ve been able to do it for so long and stay sane.”
“Well, some people might argue the sanity part,” he told her, and
was gratified to see her smile a little. “How about doing the


195


shows?”
She looked at him for the first time. “That’s what makes it worth
it, isn’t it,” she said. “That thing that happens, when you go out
there and start to play. That flow of electricity through everyone in
the band. The surge of power you get from the music. The wave of
energy that comes off of them, all those people who came to see
you.”
“Yeah. There’s nothing like it,” he agreed.
She continued, “It’s difficult, though, to try and do it night after
night.”
“It doesn’t show. You’ve been great.”
Almost shyly, she said, “Really? Because I’ve been having
trouble keeping my voice consistent. And some nights my throat’s
sore by the end of it, and I sound hoarse, I think.”
He nodded. “Happens to me, too,” he told her. “It’s one of the
reasons we put more breaks into the national tours now, and why we
don’t play for hours like some bands do. If we did that, I’d sound
okay for the first four or five shows, than the rest could be some guy
off the street if you closed your eyes.”
She laughed. Encouraged, he decided to broach more difficult
ground.
“About the other night,” he began.
Warily, she replied, “What about it?”
“Got kind of a temper, don’t you?”
She said ruefully, “I know I shouldn’t have done that. It’s just he
was so- yuck!”
“Absolutely yuck,” agreed Jeremy. “Still. Why did it get to you
that way?”
She said slowly, “Because I hate –that, what he stands for. The
ugliness and destruction that’s caused by it.” Her voice was
carefully even as she went on. “ I hate the way addicts are like train
wrecks waiting to happen – when they derail, they take out
everything in their path. If you’re standing too close, too bad. And
if you really want to know, I hate it that it’s part of who you are, and
I hate that it’s there between us.”
Jeremy was taken aback by this sudden forthrightness.
Obviously Daniel had been right and the drug thing weighed more
heavily on her than he had known. He remembered her caustic


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remarks about the junkie blues, and heard again in his head her
voice singing about giving your life away, and he wondered how he
could make her see that he would not, could not, be so careless with
her.
But that would mean telling her exactly how much she meant to
him, and he sensed that there were other issues, on her side of the
equation, that it wouldn’t be wise to push just now. He chose his
words carefully.
“You’re right, about most of that,” he said. “And I can’t change
my past. But I’ve been clean for years now, Zanna.”
She said, not looking at him, “But you’ve done that before,
haven’t you. And it didn’t last.”
“That’s true,” he said quietly. “And it’s hard to explain why it’s
different now. Before – it didn’t seem to matter much, if I lived or
died. It was easy to do all kinds of dangerous things, heroin
included. I don’t mean that I was suicidal, just that my life didn’t
seem like a big deal. And so when those demons would rise up, I’d
let them sink their hooks in, just to see how far they could drag me
down before I’d beat them back. It was a sick kind of challenge, I
suppose.”
She said, “I know about demons. But why didn’t it matter
more?”
He hesitated. This was going into territory he’d barely been able
to explore himself. “That’s a long, sordid story,” he said finally.
She was silent. Then she said, “Before…those other times that
you quit. Didn’t you think you were over it then?”
It was a good question. “Yes and no,” he said. “I knew that I
should be, I wanted to be, but- until you know why you’re going
there, you don’t really know why you have to stay away.”
“And now you think you know?”
“Yeah. It’s more than that, though. Now I’ve got a lot more-
appreciation, I guess, for what there is to stay alive for.”
“And what happens when you’re feeling really down, when you
can’t remember what’s good?”
Jeremy said thoughtfully, “You still have to remember what you
owe to other people. The last time – what did it finally was hitting a
place where it was like I was seeing myself from the outside, and I
couldn’t stand who I was. I thought, you self indulgent piece of shit,


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you’ve been lucky enough to have a couple of people who cared
enough to invest their time in you, and you’re not even trying to do
something with it. I thought about Arik, who had always been there.
Who’d thrown my ass into detox, bailed me out of jail, stuck by me
and didn’t replace me in the band when I went to prison. But even
he’d finally given up, that last time, and put an ocean between us.
And I realized it’s not supposed to be easy, this life, but it’s all you
get, and you need to keep going. It matters.”
“It should,” she said softly.
“And anyway,” he went on, “there’s almost always something,
you know, that can remind you of why it’s worth the trouble.
Sometimes it’s the small things that make the difference. Hearing a
song on your car radio. The smell of the ocean. Or watching the
way a girl’s eyes change color,” he dared, watching her. She turned,
and looked at him, her expression somber. “I don’t want to be
anyone’s reason for living,” she said. There was something starkly
painful in her face.
Jeremy said, with dawning realization, “What skeletons are in
your closet, Zanna?” She looked almost shattered, said only “I can’t
do this,” and turned sharply away from him. She left swiftly,
disappearing up the hall, leaving him wondering.




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Chapter 20



Soundline
Video News
Sex Gun, taking a short break from touring, recently filmed a
video for their cover of “This Magic Moment.” The song is the LA
band’s contribution to a compilation CD benefiting the Animal
Relief Foundation. Co-starring in the video is Zanna Martin
from Jump Cut, who have been opening for Sex Gun. Rumor has
it that things got very steamy between Martin and Sex Gun
frontman Jeremy Kane, on the set. Martin couldn’t be reached
for comment, but Kane did say it was “the best time I’ve ever
had doing a music video.”

MusicTown
What’s new….No strangers to controversy, Sex Gun is once
more on the firing line with regard to sexual content in their
latest video, “This Magic Moment.” Feminist organizations and
the Parents Against Prurience declaimed the video as being
analogous to porn, and glamorizing violence towards women.
The video is due to premiere next week.
A spokesperson for the band said the charges are unfounded,
and that in the motion picture industry, “this would barely be a
PG-13.”

RockNet Newsline
Spotlight on: SEX GUN, This Magic Moment.
Tune in Thursday to see what the controversy is all about.
Jeremy Kane has his magic three minutes and forty nine
seconds on a rooftop with Zanna Martin. Will they?? Did they??
RockNet goes behind the scenes to turn the spotlight on how
director Kate Everett captured such incendiary footage. Is it
real, or is it Memorex? You decide...watch the interviews with


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the band, the director, and special guests Zanna Martin and Nick
Tzezna (!) of Technical Difficulties. Then watch the video’s
premiere.

Plus the latest from Bush, Filter, and more...


Transcript: Video Spotlight: Sex Gun, This Magic Moment. Director:
Kate Everett. From: Take Two (compilation, multi artists, benefit for
Animal Relief Foundation)
Note: the following interviews were conducted separately, and edited into
the format shown in the Spotlight segment, which this transcript follows).

Kate Everett: The concept was sort of a gritty, industrial look “From Here
to Eternity” scene, shot on a rooftop and intercut with takes of the band
playing the song live. No fancy special effects, and we shot it in black and
white. I was going for dramatic visual impact, and that depended on subtle
camera techniques, and of course, the chemistry between the two of them.

Arik Jones: Maia Stadick had been involved with the animal project, and
she asked us to contribute a track for the CD. Zanna Martin was the one
who suggested “This Magic Moment” and Jeremy said we’d do it, as long as
Zanna agreed to appear in the video. (Pause). Jeremy…uh…kind of has a
thing for Zanna Martin.

Kate: I remember, before we started filming, looking at him and thinking,
“Uh oh.” He’s so intense, and practically radiates sexuality, and he was
very focused on her.

Arik: it was very uptight on the set. You could see everyone was looking at
the two of them and just wondering what was going to happen. (Pause).
Jeremy is not known for impulse control.

Nick Tzezna: it was a terrible idea. He was completely obsessed with her,
and giving him the green light in a love scene was like turning a starving
panther loose with a gazelle.

Kate: Beside him, she looked so fragile. Jump Cut had been on tour for a
while, and she had lost weight and was close to exhaustion. We had her


200


costumed in this wispy little dress and she just looked tiny. He was in
nothing but a ripped pair of jeans, and he’s got that really developed,
muscular build, and he’s a big man. Next to him, she looked breakable.

Arik: I think Jeremy managed to follow the blocking for about five seconds.

Kate: I didn’t know what to do! I’m thinking, do I stop this, or what? But I
let the cameras keep rolling, because I could tell it was great footage. It
wasn’t in the script, but it was visually stunning.

Jeremy Kane: It was okay until the part where I licked her throat. At that
point, I forgot all about the cameras, the people, it was all blocked out
completely from my mind. There was Zanna, and that was all.

Zanna Martin: It was probably bad timing for doing the video….we were
coming off the first segment of the tour, and hadn’t been getting along
particularly well. I think there were a few too many pent up feelings.

Jeremy: I’d been around her, and getting nowhere, for several weeks
leading up to the shoot. (Pause) I was – frustrated. (Pause). In every
sense of the word.

Zanna: I could tell exactly when he lost it. Then I got kind of caught up in
it, too, and to be honest I don’t remember much until I heard Kate yelling at
us.

Nick: It looked like he was going to rape her, right there and then. He spun
her around and pinned her against the wall with his body as he was kissing
her, and then he ripped her dress from the neck all the way down.

Zanna: It actually wasn’t quite what it looked like – I was kind of shocked
when I saw the video, because it does look as though he’s…well, tearing
my clothes off! But what happened was that the dress I was wearing had
these decorative metal buttons down the front, that were shaped like little
3D stars, and they were sharp as hell. So when he pulled me right up
against him, those buttons were like tacks going into his chest. You can’t
see it in the video, but we both kind of recoiled, and went ow! And Jeremy
said “fuck this,” and that’s when he ripped the dress. It had more to do with


201


eliminating pain than it did with stripping off my clothes. He actually had
bloody welts from those buttons.

Kate: at that point, with her dress hanging half off, she’s leaning back
against the wall, and he’s sliding down her, to his knees, holding her by the
waist and kissing her bare tummy, and everyone’s just going ‘omigod.”
Then she slides down to the ground, and right here, I was afraid it was
going to get X-rated, but fortunately he turned his head to the side and
brushed his face over her hip instead, and as she lies back he’s kissing and
licking his way down the inside of her leg. Then he did the thing with her
toes. That was kind of playful, cute, really.

Arik: that girl is incredibly flexible. Dunno how she can get her leg in that
position.

Nick: I could not believe that Kate wasn’t going to stop it. I quit watching
them at that point. I couldn’t stand it.

Kate: so at that point he’s over her, and it was a great shot, with all those
rippling muscles, and then they were kind of rolling and twisting around,
which was quite close to what the script called for. Maybe a bit more erotic
than I’d planned on, but it worked really well. You can see the contrast
between his incredibly powerful body, and her slenderness, that’s very
effective. And of course, extremely passionate.

Zanna: at this point, it was just between the two of us. Everything else had
ceased to exist.

Kate: this next bit was rather graphic, so we edited it into a series of quick
flashes. He was leaning on his arms, with her under him, their legs are
tangled up and his hips – there! – really thrust against her…it was very
blatantly sexual, but I thought as a quick cut, we could use it without having
the video banned from TV. (laughs).

Jeremy: all I know is, I was finally holding her, and kissing her, and feeling
her, and I wasn’t about to stop.

Kate: I think I yelled “cut!” four times, with absolutely no result. Even two of


202


the camera crew just kept filming them, which was lucky, because the best
part of the whole video was probably after that. I finally hollered “Jeremy,
damn it, cut it out!” and he heard that – you can see here how he sort of
freezes. Then they start to unwind, and here, where they’re both on their
knees, you can see him ask her if she’s all right. When he puts his hand
against her cheek, and he’s ducking a little to be able to look into her eyes,
he’s saying “are you okay? Are you okay?” and it’s an incredibly tender
moment, after that almost violent passion.

Arik: Everyone watching looked kind of stunned by the end. That was one
quiet set. And as they were getting up, Jeremy looked worried, he was
watching Zanna the whole time. She seemed shell-shocked.

Zanna: It was disorienting to go from being so totally wrapped up in each
other – literally, as well – to…oh yeah, this for a video, and there are a
whole bunch of people here…you can’t just stop on a dime and not feel
anything, and for me, it was both emotionally and physically wrenching
when we got jerked back to reality, so to speak.

Nick: Zan seemed completely out of it. Some assistant walked over and
put a blanket around her – there wasn’t much left of her dress, and she
came over to where I was, looking like she was sleepwalking.

Zanna: I don’t know, I felt kind of shattered by the whole experience. I
walked over to Nick, and I think I was almost in tears, and I kind of buried
myself in his chest. (laughs). Poor guy, it had to be pretty weird for him,
but to his credit, he was very sweet about it.

Jeremy: I felt like shit. I wanted her so badly, I wanted to be the one to
comfort her, and there she is, out of my arms, into his, and she’s crying. I
was ready to kill myself. (pause). Or maybe him.

MusicTown
Sex and Violence? Sex Gun’s latest video is lambasted by
feminists.
Sex Gun’s latest video, “This Magic Moment,” is already
under fire from feminist organizations, after only two days on the
air. A spokeswoman from Women Against Violent Imagery said
the music video “basically enacts a rape” “is demeaning” and


203


“shows a man using force to subjugate a woman.” WAVI is
asking that music networks voluntarily ban the video from the
airwaves. Peter Keller, vice president of RockNet, said that the
network is opposed to such censorship and that in their opinion,
the video has “no such objectionable content.” He adds, “It is
sexual, but that’s nothing new.”
Sex Gun could not be reached for comment, but Zanna
Martin of Jump Cut, the woman in question in the video, had this
to say: “What complete rot. Rape involves nonconsensual
conduct, and no one could think that what was portrayed in that
video was anything but reciprocal. Unless you think sensuality
automatically involves subjugation, I can’t imagine how that
would be a problem either. And while having your toes sucked
by Jeremy Kane might be a little kinky, I’d hardly call it
demeaning. If you think that’s humiliation, ask for volunteers
and I bet you could fill a stadium with people all ready to be
subjugated and demeaned.”
Martin, herself a lawyer, went on to say that she is
disturbed when groups such as WAVI use terms like rape in such
an inaccurate way. “Rape is a serious crime, including
acquaintance rape, and this kind of meaningless drivel detracts
from a very real problem. Magic Moment is sexually suggestive,
but there were clearly two active participants involved. To imply
otherwise gives the unfortunate impression that women never
say yes to passionate, tumultuous sex. I feel sorry for the
members of WAVI, if they don’t know any better.”

Soundline
Talking to…Nick Tzezna, on Sex Gun’s “Magic Moment”
video, which features his main squeeze, Zanna Martin: “Look, I
didn’t exactly enjoy watching Jeremy Kane licking his way
around her, but I’m sure he feels the same about the fountain
scene in “Gone,” and probably both of us were going “what the
hell!” when we saw Zan and Matt (Wilder, from Jump Cut) in the
“Life is Triage” video. But the fact is, rock music and sex go
together and always have, and that’s reflected in videos as well
as in the songs. Zanna has a very natural sensuality that comes
across on film, and if you’re lucky enough to have her in your
video, you’re going to make the most of it.”


204









Chapter 21



The second leg of the tour got off to a tense start.
Zanna had retreated behind a wall of implacable politeness. It
wasn’t only towards Jeremy, it was as though there was a gulf
between her and the rest of the world. She was perfectly friendly; it
was just you couldn’t connect with her, somehow. At least that was
what Matt thought, and he had certainly tried.
She was struggling with insomnia, not eating much, and still
running every day. Once Jeremy realized that she did this both day
and night, and most often by herself, he had Tanner acquire a
treadmill as part of the tour equipment. It took a sharp confrontation
between them, though, and the rest of Jump Cut’s siding with
Jeremy, to get her to use it.
The only person who seemed to break through to her was Nick,
who was at the Toronto show and spent time with Zanna both before
and after. She seemed more relaxed for that performance than she
had in a long time. She returned from a post concert date with him,
though, with disheveled hair, smeared lipstick, and her skirt twisted
sideways, and naturally the first person she saw in the hotel lobby
was Jeremy. He had no chance to comment, however, she swept by
him and Arik with only a cool “Good night” although her cheeks
were stained with telltale color.
Jeremy himself wasn’t helping the tour ambience. He had so far
managed to keep his temper in check, but the sense of tightly coiled
energy that he often exuded was transformed by frustration and
some anxiety into something almost dangerous. The way he moved,
even the simplest gesture like a turn of his head, was invested with a
kind of menace, the way a wild animal bears no animosity but still


205


poses an inherent risk to those around it. It made his performances
all the more effective, since he could unleash the force of his
personality onstage with little inhibition, but otherwise he was an
uncomfortable companion, to say the least.
He was genuinely worried about Zanna. The way she dressed for
concerts did little to camouflage her weight loss, and her eyes had
dark circles permanently shadowing them these days. Her
charmingly asymmetrical features were more sharply drawn, and
when she wasn’t performing, she looked visibly weary. Jeremy also
noticed that she and Matt appeared to be spending little time
together, and he sought out the guitar player for an explanation.
Being Jeremy, his approach was more direct than it was tactful.
Finding Matt in the hotel coffee shop in Rochester, NY, Jeremy sat
down without invitation and said abruptly, “What’s with you and
Z?”
This was one conversation Matt really did not want to have. But
he was worried about her, too, and had had no luck in trying to get
her to talk about it.
“What’s with Z and anyone?” he countered. “She’s way
stressed.”
Jeremy frowned. “It’s like…oh, christ, I don’t know. Like
something’s eating her up from inside, and I don’t get it.”
At that moment, Matt almost told him about the impending
demise of Jump Cut. But they’d agreed to keep it quiet, until they
had a better handle on their strategy and at any rate, this was
something Jeremy should hear from Zanna herself. So instead, Matt
said carefully, “A lot’s happened to her in the past year or so, and I
think most of it took her by surprise. Including you.”
“We were doing okay, while you guys were still out in
California. Better than okay, in fact.” His mouth was tight, as he
said, “Was it that stupid crap about that girl, Ashley, that got her
acting like I’m a leper?”
“Didn’t help,” said Matt.
“I never fucking touched her, and I never wanted to. Does Zanna
think I was cheating on her?”
Matt shrugged. “I don’t think she saw that as being the issue,
Jeremy, although I can’t say she talked about it.”
Jeremy sat back, spreading his arms across the back of the booth.


206


“So what are we gonna do?” he said. “She’s going to cause some
real damage to herself, the way she’s going. Have you noticed how
fucking thin she is?”
Matt raised an eyebrow. “We?”
“I figure I’m stuck with you, where Zanna’s concerned,” said
Jeremy impatiently. “You always seem to be in the picture.” He
contemplated Matt, his aspect somewhat forbidding. Then he asked
suddenly, “Something happen between you two?”
Matt met the sharp, dark gaze with a level look. He said evenly,
“That’s not your business, Jeremy.”
The other man’s tension was a palpable thing, and as Jeremy
stared at Matt broodingly, you could almost see him reach the
inevitable conclusion.
“Well, well,” he said softly. “You did warn me, didn’t you?”
Great, thought Matt, just great. Aloud he said, “Look, Jeremy,
this isn’t about me, okay? Whatever’s going on with Zanna, I am
not what’s messing her up. Yes, our relationship’s gone through
some changes, which is only natural, and which I’m not going to
discuss with you. But she is not eating her heart out over me, I can
promise you that.” He got up and said, “I’m worried about her, too,
but I think she probably has to sort this thing out for herself.”
Jeremy was silent for a moment. Then he looked up at Matt and
said, “But she’s so fucking stubborn.”
Matt nodded. “I know.”

It was in Baltimore that things came to a head. Zanna’s bandmates
were relaxing in their dressing room several hours before showtime,
when Jeremy came in. He looked around and said abruptly,
“Where’s Zanna?”
David answered from where he was lying on the floor,
“Running.” He added, noting Jeremy’s somewhat ominous aspect,
“Treadmill.” Pretty much everyone on the tour knew that Zan’s
running addiction had been a bone of contention between them.
Jeremy said incredulously, “Still?” and Andy answered, “She’s
having a bad day.”
Jeremy looked at Matt, who was stretched out on a couch
reading, and said, “You don’t have a problem with this?”
Matt glanced up at him, and said evenly, “Yeah, Jeremy, I do, but


207


there’s only so far I can go. You think you can do better, be my
guest.”
“Z has very definite boundaries,” murmured David.
“They’re about to get breached,” said Jeremy grimly, walking
out.
The rest of them looked at each other, and Matt swung his legs
off the couch. “Someone’s going to have to pick up the pieces,” he
said.
“But whose?” asked Andy.
“My money’s on Z,” said David.
Matt said, “I wouldn’t be so sure, this time.”
They followed in Jeremy’s wake to the backstage corner where
the treadmill had been set up. A lot of other people were finding
excuses to hang out here as well, noticed Matt –this had all the
earmarks of a showdown. Johnny Deal wasn’t even making a
pretense of discretion; he leaned against the wall, arms crossed,
openly watching.
Zanna was still going at a steady clip, headphones in place,
tuning out the activity around her. To Matt’s experienced eyes,
however, her stride was not as smooth as it should have been, and
she was soaked in sweat.
Jeremy stomped up to her and unceremoniously yanked off her
headphones as he hit the red stop button on the treadmill. The
computer read 11.7 miles, which somehow pissed him off. Zanna
turned to look at him in indignation as the machine slowed. “What
do you think you’re-” she began.
“You’re done,” said Jeremy briefly.
Zanna’s eyes narrowed, and she said, “That is not your call.”
Jeremy lost his temper, which had already been pretty frayed. “It
is my fucking business if the lead singer for our opening act is too
fucking exhausted to stay on her feet onstage,” he yelled at her.
Zanna said, in angry disbelief, “You’ve got a problem with my
performance?”
Jeremy snapped, “I’ve got a problem with your fucking self
destructive behavior!” Disregarding what Matt, for one, knew to be
a warning sign as her jaw tightened, Jeremy went on, “What have
you had to eat today, anyway? How long did you sleep last night?”
In a low, tight voice she replied, “Last time I checked, I was an


208


adult and you were not my guardian.”
“Well, you fucking well need one!” he said.
“You are way out of line, Jeremy,” she said warningly.
“Oh, fuck that! You gave up some of your cherished
independence when you made the choice to sleep with me that first
night, Zanna. These are the consequences, and you just have to deal
with it.” His voice was harsh. “You think I’m real happy about
this? You think I wanted to fall for a fucking anorexic exercise
junkie with a commitment phobia? Well, I didn’t get to choose, and
now, neither do you. For once you can take the fucking
responsibility that comes with someone caring about you. You want
to think you’re Planet Zanna in your own little universe, don’t you?
Well, it doesn’t work that way. If you don’t care about me, try
thinking about what your band goes through. You think they aren’t
worried sick about this? You think they aren’t counting your
fucking ribs and wondering at what point they have to get you to a
hospital?”
She was speechless, her eyes wide and blank, and Matt thought
she was probably approaching white hot rage.
Heedlessly, Jeremy plunged on. “Face it, Z, if what you want is
to live disconnected from those around you, you fucked up big time,
because you’re surrounded by people who give a damn. You can’t
just go careening through life, turning on your magic and sucking us
in, and think you can walk away any time you feel like it.”
Matt knew an impulse to cheer. The loiterers were agog. Zanna
was motionless, and she and Jeremy stared at each other wordlessly.
Matt hoped he hadn’t pushed her too far; he was having visions of
Zanna’s walking off the tour.
Then, very deliberately, she turned back to the control panel of
the treadmill, and hit the start button.
She might have just intended to cool down, thought Matt,
because she shouldn’t have stopped running so abruptly. And in
fact, her legs had obviously stiffened up, she moved awkwardly as
the belt started to roll, her left knee buckling under her weight.
That was when Jeremy completely lost it. He wrapped an arm
around her waist and hauled her forcibly off the treadmill. Matt
heard her say “Damn you, let go of me” but Jeremy ignored this, and
tossed her up in his arms, with no apparent effort.


209



He made for the nearest dressing room, went through the door
backwards, still carrying Zanna, and headed to the showers. Setting
her on her feet, he kept an arm around her, both to stop her from
falling if she was shaky, and to prevent escape if she wasn’t. He
turned on the faucet, and held her under the stream of warm water.
She knocked his arm away, and stumbled backwards. He caught
her and inexorably dragged her back in with him. He could see her
exhaustion in her face, in the way her legs trembled. She quit
resisting then, and tilted her head back under the cascade of water,
reaching up to pull the elastic tie off and loosen her hair. Her eyes
were shut and she swayed slightly. His anger melted away as he
looked at her, and he just felt sad.
Jeremy knelt down and unlaced her running shoes. She rested a
hand on his shoulder and stepped out of first one, then the other. He
noticed the sock on one foot was bloodstained, and stripped it off to
find that she had blood oozing from under several nails. With an
effort, he kept silent.
He stood up, soaking wet by now, and stripped off his
waterlogged sweatshirt. He looked up to find her regarding him
with some hostility. He could tell she was angry with him, but what
he didn’t know was that his tirade had also plunged her into a state
of emotional turmoil.
She wasn’t used to being yelled at, and she certainly wasn’t used
to someone using superior physical strength to overpower her.
Combined with the involuntary arousal that he always seemed to
trigger, her state of nervous exhaustion, the uncertain status of their
relationship, and the unconsumated encounter while filming Magic
Moment, it was overwhelming and Zanna was experiencing a sort of
system overload. It was either break down, or go on the attack.
In an abrupt movement, she pulled off her t-shirt and tossed it
aside, then unzipped her shorts and kicked them out of the way.
Jeremy stared.
She said, “This is what you want, right?” Her tone was sharp.
“You think because we once had sex that you have the right to shout
at me, and order me around, and-”
“Zanna, I’m sorry about how-” he started to say, but she wasn’t
having any. She unhooked her sports bra and pulled it off, and


210


Jeremy was transfixed. She was continuing, “You know what, I’d
rather pay in kind, so let’s just do it.”
He tried to say something then, but his vocal cords and mouth
seemed to lack coordination, and it came out as a sort of strangled
gasp as he took in her almost naked body. He knew this would be a
really big mistake, that she was doing this for entirely the wrong
reason…he dragged his eyes up to her face and met her mocking
gaze.
She said, “Come on, Jeremy, what’s the problem? Let’s go. I
can’t promise nirvana, more like a fast fuck, actually-”
He moved then. Her deliberately blunt choice of words triggered
some kind of atavistic response, a rush of intense, physical desire
that he didn’t try to resist. He caught her in his arms and kissed her
so hard, he inadvertently cut her lip, and the taste of her blood was
perversely exciting…all the suppressed longing of the past months
was suddenly unleashed, even though he knew this was a bad idea,
he couldn’t seem to stop…his hand slid down her back, and gripped
her barely clad ass, fuck it was so small it practically fit in his one
hand, damn he should stop, this wasn’t right, his hand went to her
breast, god, she had such perfect breasts, okay, maybe this wasn’t
such a bad thing, maybe it’d defrost some of the ice between
them….he bent his head and kissed her breasts, all over, oh god, he
wanted her. He unzipped his jeans with one hand, his mouth still
roaming her wet, bare skin, tasting her, tasting-
Blood. Again.
He stopped abruptly, confused. Christ, had he just bitten her,
without knowing it? Oh fuck…he drew back, holding her by the
waist, looking for the damage, found it. Along her ribs were several
bloody abrasions. Uncomprehending, but pretty sure he hadn’t done
that, he looked up to meet her eyes.
“Christ, Zanna, how the hell did that happen?”
Her voice was indifferent. “It’s just friction, from the sportsbra.”
He stared at her incredulously, and the hot sexual surge was
replaced by something else entirely. He couldn’t believe the
punishment she’d evidently inflicted on her own body. He saw how
very thin she was – she had been slender since he’d known her, but
this was beyond that. He looked at her bleeding feet, and the
contusions under her breasts, and felt a kind of horrified


211


helplessness. What the fuck was she doing to herself? He said,
“Zanna, you can’t keep on like this.”
She turned her back on him, bracing one arm against the wall as
she dropped her head forward and let the water beat down on her
back and shoulders. Jeremy had a sudden sense of déjà vu, only he
had been the one turning his back, and it was Arik saying “It’s not
just yourself you’re destroying, you know,” and it hadn’t been
bloody ribs, but the tracks on his forearm that spawned that
particular conversation.
What goes around, comes around, he thought. The irony wasn’t
lost on him, but he still didn’t know how to get through to her.
Jeremy reached out and turned off the water, and pulled her
gently into his arms. Her head was down, wet hair curtaining her
face.
Softly, he said, “Zanna, would you please talk to me?”

Arik and Daniel, arriving at the facility for the soundcheck, were
surprised at the number of people milling around backstage. The
group included most of Jump Cut, their crew, their tour manager
Spike, Tanner, most of Sex Gun’s tech crew, and Johnny Deal.
“What’s going on?’ asked Daniel, looking around.
Arik noticed something. “Where are Jeremy and Zanna?”
People looked at each other, and shifted uneasily. No one was in a
hurry to answer. It was very weird, thought Arik.
Andy finally said, “Matter of fact, our respective lead singers are
in the shower.”
Arik’s eyebrows shot up. “What, together?”
Johnny said, “Just to make it even more interesting, when last
seen, they were on the worst of terms.”
Daniel asked, “What happened?”
Andy answered “Jeremy took exception to Z’s running.”
Arik said, “She is a bit obsessive.”
David took up the story. “So he has a tantrum and starts yelling
at her-”
“And she goes quietly furious and starts running again,” put in
Andy.
“At which point,” Johnny finished, “Jeremy picked her up and
headed for the dressing room. And while we haven’t heard any


212


sounds of mayhem, no one has really wanted to investigate.”
Arik saw his point. On the other hand – “We’ve got a sound
check.”
“It’s a problem,” agreed Johnny.
Daniel looked at Tanner and Spike. “You’re the tour managers.
Isn’t getting everyone onstage for the sound check part of your
jobs?”
Tanner said, “I’m not going in there,” and Spike concurred.
“Your lead singer’s got a vile temper,” he said. “And ours is a
girl, which makes barging in on her in the shower potentially
awkward, to say the least.”
Arik said to Matt, “What about you?”
Matt said, “I am so fucking sick of everyone thinking I should
always do the dirty work.”
David told him, “We don’t, really. It’s just that Z would forgive
you anything, and even Jeremy seems marginally fond of you, so
you’re the person least likely to suffer grievous bodily harm, should
you be interrupting anything.”
Matt was just starting to reply, when the dressing room door
opened, and Jeremy, wearing only a towel around his waist, stepped
out and looked at the assemblage in amazement. “What the fuck are
you doing?” he said. Fortunately, he didn’t seem to expect an
answer. He said to Matt, “Could you find Z something dry to put
on?”
Matt rolled his eyes. “See what I mean?” he asked of no one in
particular. But he got up and went to look for where Zanna had left
her bag.
Jeremy, looking after him, said, “What’s his problem?” but no
one answered him. Jeremy shrugged and turned back into the
dressing room.

Zanna, wrapped up in towels, was lying on the bench, eyes closed.
She was so tired, she didn’t want to move. She was certainly too
weary to fight with Jeremy. It felt like her life was unraveling and
she couldn’t do a damn thing about it. She was hurting, and
vulnerable, and she hated it.
He came back then, and took a seat on the bench, looking down
at her. He smoothed her wet hair back from her face, and his touch


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was gentle.
“Hey.” His voice was quiet, and concerned.
“Mmm.”
“I think it’s about time we got some things straightened out
between us,” he said. She didn’t respond, except to curl into an
even smaller huddle. He continued, “We can do better than this,
Zanna.”
“How?” The monosyllable wasn’t much, but he was encouraged,
nonetheless.
“Tell me this, Z. Do you want me to just get out of your life, and
leave you alone?” There. He’d said it. He was almost holding his
breath, waiting for her answer.
“No-oo.”
Whew. “Okay, then,” he said. “Let’s figure out what we need to
do to make it work more smoothly, huh?” He added, “If not for us,
at least for our bands. This has been hard on everyone, you know.”
She sat up. “It would help if you didn’t yell at me.”
“Yeah. I’m sorry, I was out of line. I mean, with how I did it. I
still think I’m right as far as the content goes.” He put his arm
around her, felt her stiffen. She said, “Not exactly. I’ve been okay
onstage, and you know it. Whatever problems I’ve been having,
they haven’t affected my performance.”
He admitted, “You’re incredible onstage. Jump Cut’s the best
opening act we’ve ever had.”
She looked up at him uncertainly. He smiled at her. “I mean
that. You’ve got an excellent band, Z, and you’re one of the most
talented people I’ve ever worked with.” He saw her lip quiver, and
her eyes dropped again. He wondered what he had said wrong. But
then she leaned against him, fitting herself into the curve of his arm,
so he went on. “But you need to realize that it’s not just you, here.
Everyone is affected by what you’re doing.” Jeremy hesitated,
because he knew the next part was risky. “Your situation isn’t so
different from what I did to my friends when I was using. I had the
same attitude you do: fuck ‘em, it’s my life. But that’s just not
realistic, Zanna. That’s what I was trying to say, before.”
She said, into his shoulder, “Just what is it you want me to do?”
Carefully he said, “Would you see a doctor?”
“No.” She said it flatly, adding dryly, “And as far as I know they


214


don’t have Runner’s Rehab. And I wouldn’t go if they did.
Sometimes it’s the only thing that keeps me from going completely
nuts.”
Jeremy sighed. He had a feeling he wasn’t the best person to be
doing this. He’d never even read any of those fucking self-
improvement psychobabble books. On the other hand, he seemed to
be all she had. She’d sufficiently intimidated everyone else into
staying hands off…okay, once more into the breach, he thought.
“Maybe you could cut down a little? So, at least you aren’t
bleeding?”
“I guess.” She said it ungracefully, but it was something, he
supposed.
“Could you try and eat more?” he asked. She appeared to think it
over. “I could probably do that,” she said.
“Okay, that would be good.” He paused. “This one might be
harder,” he warned. “Think you could let people show their
concern, and not just blow them off, or slap them down?”
“I…I’ll try, all right?” Then she said, “My turn. You don’t get
to be so damned dictatorial. I mean, I know at the moment I’m
basically working for you, or for Sex Gun anyway, but you could
still try asking, instead of being so bossy.”
Jeremy was genuinely taken back at that. “Christ, Z, I never
meant it like that! “
“I know. You’re just naturally arrogant.” She smiled though, to
take the sting out of her words.
“I’ll work on it, okay? You let me know if I’m being like that. I
don’t think I know I’m doing it, sometimes.” He rubbed her bare
shoulder, and said tentatively, “Do you think maybe we could try
and be friends?”
There was some surprise in her look. He saw it, and said, “I
realize you’ve got some…issues, that you don’t want to talk about,
not with me anyway, although I wish you would. But even if we’re
not- well, not going to be lovers, I’d still like to…oh fuck, I don’t
know. Get to know each other better? Or at least for you to stop
avoiding me like I’ve got the plague.”
She was smiling a little, and she said demurely, “Well, you did
just turn me down, after all, so you can’t say I never-” She broke off,
laughing, as he grabbed her and pulled her onto his lap.


215


They were never going to know what might have happened next,
because there was a loud banging on the door, and Matt’s voice said,
“Here’s your stuff, Zanna.”
She untangled herself from Jeremy, adjusted the slipping towel,
and went to the door.
Jeremy heard their voices, low and somehow intimate, and not
for the first time envied Matt his close rapport with Zanna. He got
up with an inward sigh, and went to the door. Opening it wider, he
told them both, “I’ve got to get ready for the sound check. I’ll see
you later.” Still clad only in the towel, he headed off towards Sex
Gun’s dressing room.
Zanna turned to Matt, who touched a finger to her bruised and cut
lip, and said in a very neutral tone, “Jeremy do this?”
“Not like that,” she said. Matt’s expression stayed carefully
noncommittal. She said shortly, “Don’t give me that look. Nothing
happened.”
Matt raised an eyebrow, and retorted, “Zanna, the two of you are
both wet and naked; obviously something happened.”
She grinned, unwillingly. “Not much,” she said. “In fact, he
turned me down.” She took her duffel bag from him and ducked
behind a partition.
Matt raised both eyebrows. “Well, I always knew Jeremy was
somewhat crazy,” he drawled. “But I didn’t think he was actually
deranged.”
“I didn’t think he had that much willpower,” admitted Zanna
honestly. “I guess blood’s a turn off.” Her voice was muffled as
she pulled her shirt on.
Matt thought that one over, didn’t get it. “You mean your lip, or
a ‘Purple Stain’ thing?” he asked finally, although personally he
wouldn’t have expected that to slow Jeremy down for a second.
She emerged, dressed in jeans and a sweater. “Not that,” she said.
“This.” She lifted up her top to show him the abrasions.
“For chrissakes, Z, I don’t blame him!” Matt took a closer look,
made a face. “Those are nasty.” He straightened, put his hands on
her shoulders, and said, “You know, while I can’t say much for his
delivery, I agreed with most of what Jeremy said out there.”
She sighed. “I guess I have to take it seriously then.”
“Good.” Matt squeezed her shoulders gently, and she put her


216


arms around him, and they held each other for a moment. She said
wistfully, “Life used to be a lot less complicated.”
“But not nearly as interesting,” Matt reminded her, and was glad
to hear her laugh. He said, “Let’s go get something to eat. If you’re
turning over a new leaf, there’s no time like the present.”



217









Chapter 22



To: Jill
From: Arik
Re: 2d leg of the tour

Well, I’d have to say things are definitely going better since
the break. Our ongoing soap opera appears to be on hiatus.
Stay tuned, folks…
The first leg was very uptight, at least offstage, I think the
shows went well. But there was a lot of tension between
Jeremy and Zanna, which affected everyone. She was
definitely keeping him at arms length and it drove him nuts.
Then Adam Leskar was at the last show, which did not
improve Jeremy’s temper at all. And Zanna and Matt Wilder
generally come across like incestuous siblings, although that
doesn’t seem to bother him as much, for some reason.
On the break, we did the video for “Magic Moment”- well, I
guess everyone knows how that went. Jeremy was pretty
much out of control, but to be honest, Zanna herself didn’t
seem too collected either.
Anyway, things looked like going from bad to really shitty
when we started this leg. Z still distant, Jeremy pissed off
about Nick Tzezna (who was at the Toronto show, and
obviously getting a lot further with Zanna than Jeremy has
been), not exactly thrilled with Matt, worried about Zanna
herself. He thinks she’s anorexic – and I have to say, she is
very thin. They finally had some kind of blowup in Baltimore,
which seemed to clear the air. Now they’re working together


218


again – you should hear some of the stuff they’re doing, it’s
remarkably good. It’s too bad they can’t get along that well
on other levels.
But everyone’s more cheerful these days, and the shows
have been full of positive energy. Zanna Martin may be a
pain in the ass in that she drives Jeremy insane, but that girl
can rock!
All for now. Miss you.


To: Arik
From: Jill

…..and how goes the soap opera? Jeremy getting
anywhere with Zanna yet? And may I say, I think it’s unfair to
blame her for driving him nuts, Jeremy’s always been half
crazy at the best of times. And you can see why she’d
hesitate to get involved with him, any sane woman would think
twice about it. I’m sure the Ashley thing didn’t help either.
Your shows are certainly getting great reviews! A lot of
people are impressed with Jump Cut, as well – and Zanna
herself is getting a lot of attention. Major topic is who she’s
sleeping with, poor girl.
Btw, is there something between her and Kelly Ross???
Work is going fine, thanks, and I’m hoping to be in town
when you get back from Europe…


…..You know there was NOTHING to the Ashley thing, it
was all on her side, he barely had anything to do with her.
And what about Kelly Ross?

Gossip on the net, that Kelly is Zanna’s latest conquest.
Near as I can tell, it started with him saying in an interview
with Melody Maker that she was “delicious.”

I hope it’s bs, because Jeremy’s having a hard enough time
with her as it is (no pun intended). It would be funny, if it


219


wasn’t so worrying (Jeremy not being the most stable of
individuals). I’ve never seen him put this much effort into
anything. It’s been tough for him, though, and he’s having to
learn a lot of relationship stuff the hard way - he fucks up, she
backs off, he starts over…
We finish up this week with a radio sponsored thing with a
bunch of other bands in Philly. Not our favorite kind of gig,
and I suspect Jeremy’s motivation in agreeing to it (and
dragging us along with him) was mostly to get Jump Cut the
exposure (it’s being broadcast by RockNet). He badly wants
them on the BDO tour. I think he’s counting on summer in the
Southern Hemisphere to work some magic..

Jeremy’s right, Down Under is great strategy in his
campaign to win over Zanna. Jeremy the surfer is an easier
person to get along with than Jeremy the rock star. Plus his
surfing is so beautiful to watch, how could she possibly
resist…

To: Jill
From: Arik

…We all had a great time last night. We were in a college
town in Pa somewhere, and went out after the show, to a club
that had a live band – part swing, part oldies, part bizarro
funkpunk. Danced our asses off. Zanna didn’t even bother to
go running today. She had to dance with all of us, being
almost the only girl in our group. (That reminds me - I noticed
recently that we don't have any female crew members. Do
you think that's weird? Jump Cut has several, but they mostly
look at us as if we had horns and tails, not conducive to
asking them to dance). Only Jeremy and Matt got to do the
slow dances, though. Jeremy looked like he could die happy
when they played “Stand by Me.”
There’s been an excellent feel to this last part of the tour.
Jump Cut synchs with us really well – very easy and friendly,
and a nice camaraderie that I don’t remember happening
before with another band. We’ve all been jamming in various


220


combinations – I caught Daniel teaching Zanna the rhythm
parts to “Take It” which we’ve never done live because it
needs two guitars, and Jeremy says he’d screw it up. I
suspect Dan of having designs on her for BDO – he’s always
wanted to do that song live, he loves the leads.
It's like what I would imagine college is like, or maybe
summer camp (not that I did anything that wholesome in my
formative years) – we’re in and out of each other’s rooms,
riding on each other’s buses (JC razz us constantly about
what they refer to as our deluxe travel arrangements, they call
us pampered rock stars, as well as several ruder things).
They like to explore places that we stop in, and there’s always
some restaurant they want to try. Touring is still new to them,
and it’s refreshing – they have a lot of enthusiasm, and it
seems to be rubbing off on us, jaded old souls that we are.
Too bad we can’t take them along to Europe, I bet they’d be a
riot over there…



Sex Gun fan site, Message Board

Posting: brianna
Subject: an UNBELIEVABLE night!!!!
Message: I'm just back from our big night out, it's four am and I'm way
too excited to sleep! As most of you know, Sex Gun played here tonight,
and it was just the greatest experience ever!!
I'll post the setlist and details on the concert later, but here's the quickie
version: Jump Cut opened, and they are really good live. Both Zanna and
Matt sounded great, and they did that tango thing, it's wild, you can't believe
they can move that close and not bang their guitars into each other. She
was wearing a Penn State t-shirt, cut out as usual, and she took it off at the
end of the show and tossed it into the crowd (wonder if she picked that up
from Jeremy??) all the guys around us (me, my best friends Heather and
Jean) were drooling over her as usual.
Then Sex Gun came on, and - what can you say? They are just the
greatest of all time. They looked awesomely beautiful (no shirts, although
they did keep their pants on, bummer) They opened with "hurricane" and


221


did lots of new stuff, and some of the older ones like Body Language and
Come Hard too. They seemed to be in a really good mood, they were
laughing and talking a lot, and Jeremy did a back flip at the end of
Shutdown. We were kind of wondering if Zanna would do If I Could with
them like she did at Oceans, but she didn't come out again. They did Miss
You and Down and In for the encore.
But believe it or not, the best was yet to come! Because after the
concert we went to an after hours club called Gaby's, which has a live band
on weekends. And after a while, who walks in but just about everyone from
SG and Jump Cut, including a lot of their crew people. We couldn't believe
it!! Arik Jones stood right next to me at the bar, and gave me this really nice
smile and said hi. People were being pretty cool about leaving them alone,
no asking for autographs, although don't think we weren't tempted! Johnny
and SG's tour manager both were really friendly, and talking to people, but
Jeremy was only paying attention to Zanna.
Anyway, they all seemed to want to relax and have fun. Daniel and the
Jump Cut bass player were playing pool, but most of the others were
dancing. It was so funny to see them, like that, like real people, not on
stage or on TV. Zanna looks different offstage, not quite as tough - she was
wearing a darling outfit, black and gold velvet top and miniskirt, and had her
hair down. She was dancing with all of them, and as you'd expect, she and
Matt are like watching pros, they were doing swing and he was really
tossing her around!
But the best part was when the band played a slow song, and she was
dancing with Jeremy (who, let me tell you, is even better looking up close
and personal! than in the videos) they were dancing VERY close, and
about halfway through the song, he started kissing her, and didn't stop!
Anyway, we were trying to be cool and not stare too obviously but they were
totally making out, and I noticed Matt was also looking away from them, sort
of like he was trying not to mind - and that's when the really wild thing
happened, because he looked right at us, and smiled (oh god, is he
beautiful!) and CAME OVER and asked Jean to dance!!!!
Now Jean is a pretty girl, I think, but she isn't flashy, or the type most
guys would say is a hot babe. I thought it was really cool of him to ask her,
and not one of the sorority sluts who'd been giving him the eye. They
danced a couple of songs, and then he hung out with us for a while. He is
SO nice, and really cute. We asked him about his tattoos, and he did say
that the lightening bolt thing on his wrist is a Z, and it does stand for Zanna,


222


but he said he got it because she's his best friend and it was nice to be
reminded of that. So it doesn't sound to me like they've got a thing
going…and definitely Jeremy does!
Anyway, gotta go to bed now, but just had to share it with you all!



223









Chapter 23




They got to Philadelphia after an overnight bus ride, and everyone
was tired and disoriented. The weather was gray, and intermittent
sleet was coming down. Members from both groups, looking rather
squalid and uncombed, stumbled off the buses outside the concert
venue. Several took one look and elected to get more sleep. Zanna
thought about it for a minute, and with some regret decided it
wouldn’t happen anyway. She sighed, she seemed chronically short
of rest these days.
Next to her, Matt said, “What do you think, Z? What’s in Philly
besides that bell?”
Zan reflected. “Reading Market, South Street. A really good
used bookstore.”
Andy, overhearing, said, “Cheese steak.”
“Not for breakfast,” objected Matt.
Jeremy came up. “This is uninspiring. What are you guys going
to do?”
No one had any great ideas.
Frank, the press officer, said to the group, “At ten, at least one of
you from each band needs to talk to Spin. And RockNet wants a
few minutes but they’re not picky about when.”
“Quarter,” said Daniel.
“And there’s a call-in to the morning show of the sponsoring
radio station-” “That’s just Sex Gun, right?” asked Zanna, who
disliked both interviews and phones anyway.
“No, sorry Zan, this is all Jump Cut as well,” he told her. He
waited expectantly. The band members looked singularly


224


unenthusiastic.
Andy said briskly, “Right, eight of us, so if you take one from
each band, two people get a bye this round.”
Frank said apologetically, “Not Jeremy or Zanna, however.”
Jeremy, uncommonly cooperative, said, “Okay, Frank, where do
you want us?”
“I’d like both of you for Spin, and either of you for RockNet.”
Zanna objected, “I wouldn’t let Jeremy near Spin, personally.
They hate him.”
“Come again?” said Jeremy, raising an eyebrow quizzically.
“They’re always snotty about you, haven’t you noticed? Last
time they referred to you as an oversexed surfjock with poor impulse
control.”
“Wait until they see Magic Moment,” remarked Johnny.
“That’s not so bad, he’s been called much worse,” said Daniel.
Jeremy said to her, “I didn’t know you cared.”
Frank said, “It’s okay this time, it’s Michael Perry, he’s more
balanced. It’s that female reporter who doesn’t like him.”
Zanna said to Jeremy, “Well, since we’re touring with you, it’s a
case of guilt by association.” He grinned at her, and said, “Oh,
c’mon, Z. Let’s do it together. That way you can smack me right
away if I say something you don’t like.”
She crossed her arms, and gave him a stern look. “No anatomical
references this time.”
Frank added, “And keep your clothes on.”
Zanna said moodily, “I think we should just refuse to talk about
our personal lives,” and Frank told her, “That never works.”
Jeremy said, “Let’s figure it out over breakfast” as it started to
sleet again. Zanna said crossly, “I’m going back to bed.” Jeremy
said agreeably, “Works for me,” and followed her back onto the
Jump Cut bus. Frank sighed, and told the others to flip for the call-
in. Jeremy and Matt could do RockNet later, if Zanna was still in a
bad mood.
On the bus, Zanna kicked off her unlaced boots and lay face
down. Jeremy regarded her for a moment, then said “Move over,”
and was pleasantly surprised when she did.
Stuffing a pillow behind his head, he stretched out comfortably
alongside her prone form. “What’s up, Z?” he asked. “Not like you


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to be so negative.”
She raised herself up on her elbows, and said, “What are you
doing here, anyway? Go sleep on your own bus.”
“But this is so much nicer,” he said cheerfully. He put his hands
under her arms and pulled her up on his chest. She crossed her
arms, and rested her chin on them, regarding him pensively. “I hate
those interviews,” she said. “All they ever want to know is who I’m
sleeping with.”
Don’t we all, thought Jeremy, but he said with a grin, “Let’s tell
them we got married in Vegas last weekend.”
That got a reluctant smile. “Tempting,” she conceded.
“We could even do it,” he offered, just to see her predictably
horrified look.
“I’d rather be nibbled to death by ducks,” she told him. She
added, “Nothing against you personally, it’s marriage in general I
object to.”
“Why?”
She said, “Well, on philosophical grounds, it’s basically a
function of either church or state, and I don’t think either one has a
place in my personal relationships. On personal grounds, because it
sucks my soul dry.”
He said, surprised, “Were you married?”
She turned sideways, and he shifted so his arm was around her,
and her head was on his shoulder. It was a long moment before she
said, “Yes. A long time ago. In the spirit of trying anything once.”
“And it was that bad?”
“It was.” She went on, “But it served a purpose, I suppose,
because I learned that I’m way too solitary a person to live with
someone and have it work.”
He said curiously, “Is touring driving you crazy? You don’t get
much privacy here, either.”
“Sometimes it’s difficult, yes.”
“That why you want me to go get on my own bus?”
She raised her head to look at him. “I don’t, really. I was just
being nasty. This is kind of cozy.”
They lay in companionable silence for a few minutes, relaxed and
comfortable. Then Jeremy said, “Can I ask you something personal
, Z?”


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She said dubiously, “Well, you can ask.”
“I realize I have no right to know, but….are you and Matt
lovers?”
He felt her go very still. Then she said, “Depends on what you
mean.”
Jeremy thought it was pretty obvious, himself, but didn’t care to
spell it out.
She said thoughtfully, “Do we love each other – yes, I’d say so.
Definitely. If you mean, do we have sex regularly, then no.”
How about ever, he thought.
“On the other hand, it’s not exactly platonic, either.” She
hesitated. “Most of the time, we’re somewhere in between ‘just
friends’ and lovers. It works for us, although sometimes it’s a little
problematic.”
Which was an adroit nonanswer, he thought, but only said,
“How’s that?”
“It can play havoc with other relationships,” she admitted. “Not
really an issue for me, but some of Matt’s girls had trouble with it.”
Jeremy could well believe it. “Does Nick?” he asked.
“Don’t know. He’s never said anything to me.”
“Smart of him,” said Jeremy dryly.
“Maybe. On the other hand, he had plenty to say about you,” she
said, somewhat ruefully.
“Yeah? Like what?” Jeremy sounded pleased.
“The usual. What everyone says to me about you.”
Startled, Jeremy said, “Everyone?”
“Uh huh. Stay away from him, he’s trouble. He’s an addict, he’s
violent, he’s a slut,” she recited. “He’s dangerous, he’s unstable.”
“God. Really?”
“Oh yeah. You wouldn’t believe how many people have made a
point of warning me off you.” She hooked her leg comfortably over
his, nestling closely against his side.
Jeremy said slowly, “That description might have been accurate
once, but – “
“You can tell how seriously I take it.”
“Not really,” he said. “Given that you’ve made a policy of
avoiding me most of the time I’ve known you.”
“Not lately,” she pointed out.


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“Yeah, okay,” he acknowledged. Then referring back to the
previous point, “But Zanna, you know I would never hurt you?”
“I know. If you mean that in a physical sense. I think you could
do a lot of damage the other way.”
He said, “If this has to do with that stupid shit about Ashley
Laughton-”
“Jeremy, I don’t want to-”
“Z, will you shut up and please listen? I never did anything with
her. To her. Whatever. Never wanted to, never-”
“This is none of my business-”
“Yes, it is! Because you need to know that I meant what I said,
when I lost my temper with VH1at the Oceans show. And it’s as
true now as it was then.”
Silence. He switched back to the earlier topic. “Feel free to tell
me to fuck off, but why didn’t it happen between you and Matt?
Because of the age difference?”
“More of a difference in where we’re at,” she said slowly. “ I’ve
already, trial and error, ruled out most versions of male/ female
relationships. Matt’s got a wise old soul for being only twenty five,
but still, he hasn’t had the time to really know what his options are.
With me, well, there aren’t many. I’m like a one way street with a
dead end, even if it’s a good time getting there. And if we were
lovers, he’d be closing himself off to other possibilities without even
knowing what he was giving up.”
“Isn’t that happening anyway?”
“Maybe a little, but circumstance will resolve it.”
Jeremy wondered what she meant by that, but he had something
more pressing on his mind. “So you’ve ruled out Matt, but – you
said at Oceans- you haven’t ruled out me?”
“Mmm. That’s one thing I don’t have to worry about, with you.”
“Meaning?”
“I don’t have to worry if I’d prevent you from having something
good with someone else. You’re not going to: you’re about as
much of a dead end as I am,” she said bluntly. Jeremy grinned at
this assessment of his character.
“Did you ever want to settle down, have kids, all of that?” he
asked.
“Nope. I have absolutely no biological clock whatsoever. And I


228


made sure it wouldn’t happen by accident, as soon as I had decent
health insurance.”
He laughed softly. “God, that’s funny. Me, too.”
She raised her head and looked at him. “Really?” He nodded.
“How old were you?” he asked.
“Twenty four. You?”
“Twenty two.”
She said, “Did you ever want the family thing?” She saw
something change in his expression, a closing off, as if blinds were
being drawn across all emotion. Concerned, she said “Hey. What?”
“Nothing.” He turned his head away from her.
She put her palm against his cheek and made him face her once
again. She told him, “If we’re ever going to have this happen, you
might want to practice not doing that. Shutting me out that way.”
“Well, look who’s talking.”
“I know, it’s not my strong point either. But you know I’ve been
trying.”
He was silent, head back, staring upwards. Then, with an effort,
he said, “You’re right. Okay.” He looked at her, and said evenly, “I
never wanted kids because I hated being one. What you said in that
MTV interview, about how guys in bands are often relationship
challenged? I don’t know if you were referring to me, or Anthony,
or all of us collectively, but you were dead right. Growing up, I
didn’t learn the first thing about how to relate to people emotionally.
I learned how to tie off a vein. How to duck, and later, how to fight
back. Things like trust, and love, and caring for people? I learned
fuck all about that. The band was the first I knew about what it’s
like to have people act like you mean something to them.”
He rolled on his side, leaning on one elbow, his head on his fist,
as he looked down at her. “And I don’t want your pity,” he said.
“That’s not why I’m telling you this.”
“Okay,” she said gently. “Why?”
“Because I know I’m bad at it, this relationship stuff. I know I
keep screwing up. But I want you to know it’s not for lack of caring
about it, or wanting it, or trying.”
Her look was almost tender. “You’re not so bad at it, Jeremy.
You’ve been honest with me, anyway, and that’s saying a lot. You
come right down to it, we’re both kind of a mess, albeit for different


229


reasons.” She reflected for a moment, and went on, “Which isn’t
altogether a bad thing.”
“It’s not?” He didn’t follow her logic.
“Look at it this way. If we ever do end up together, at least we
can know we aren’t screwing up some perfectly nice, normal
person.”
He laughed at that, looking down at her. She was lying on her
back, arms crossed behind her head. He touched her hair, liking the
soft, silky feel of it. He told her, “Arik figures we’d make a good
pair because we’re both half crazy. So between us you get one
whole sane person.”
Zanna said thoughtfully, “Of course, that means you also get one
whole raving lunatic.” They exchanged a smile. It was at moments
like this, when she sounded as though they would be together
eventually, that he felt as content with life as he ever had. He still
wondered what kept things from moving more quickly, but he was
afraid to ask. For now, it was enough that they had this odd sort of
friendship. That he could, at times like this, be close to her.
And to think people said he had no fucking self control.


230









Chapter 24



So Happy Together?
Sex Gun's Jeremy Kane and Zanna Martin of Jump Cut share
breakfast and more as their bands tour the east coast.

By Michael Perry

Like their bands, the lead singers of Sex Gun and Jump Cut
present an interesting study in compare and contrast. Sex Gun
might be said to be at the height of their fifteen plus year career;
Jump Cut is just starting. Both bands are labeled alternative
rock, and feature edgy, distinctive music with interesting lyrics,
and exciting live performances. But while Sex Gun's story is a
chaotic tale of ups and downs, of talent often derailed by trouble,
Jump Cut's seems devoid of personal angst. The members of
Sex Gun are well known for reckless misbehavior, while those of
Jump Cut appear remarkably well adjusted for a rock band.
And at first glance, Jeremy Kane and Zanna Martin would
appear to have little in common. He's the high school dropout
who formed his band while in his teens; she's the lawyer cum
college professor who picked up a guitar for the first time less
than two years ago. Although close in age (he's 36, she's 34)
Jeremy is a veteran of the rock scene, and Zanna a neophyte.
He has a long history of trouble with the law; she used to defend
people like him. He's been an on and off junkie for all of his
adult life; she's as straight as they come. Even in physical
appearance, they present a marked contrast: he's solidly
muscular and dark, she's a slender, small boned blonde.
But look closer and the similarities are there. They share a
certain quickness of intellect, a sense of humor and reportedly, a
hot temper. Both have an energized and sexually charged stage
presence, and both have amazing talent when it comes to writing


231


and performing music.
They arrive together at the appointed rendezvous, a cafe near
the venue where they'll play tonight. He looks like he just woke
up; she’s brimming with energy. Her offstage persona is
markedly different from that of Jump Cut’s lead singer. She
dresses down for performances, but in civvies she favors a kind
of funky chic. This morning she’s wearing a short teal knit dress
with black fringe along the hem. She never wears more than
minimal make up, and she looks fantastic. Jeremy wears his
usual jeans and a black sweatshirt, and looks sleepy.
Zanna slides into the booth first, with Jeremy following. When
they’re in one another’s company, he tends to stay physically
close to her, and now he’s sitting shoulder to shoulder, thigh to
thigh, right against her. It doesn’t appear to bother her; if
anything, she takes it for granted. She generally seems
comfortable with a high level of physicality from the men in her
life – Jump Cut are all casually affectionate with each other, and
she and Matt Wilder in particular hug, kiss, hold hands and
frequently wrap themselves around each other. Woe to
strangers who get overly familiar though – she backhanded a too
forward fan at a California show, who made the mistake of trying
to touch.
She orders a mango banana smoothie for breakfast, and
Jeremy frowns. There have been persistent rumors that Martin
suffers from anorexia, although she is dismissive.
“It’s a byproduct of being on tour,” she says. “I lose my
appetite, and forget to eat occasionally. When I’m at home, it’s
not an issue – I like to cook, and I like to eat out, when I don’t
have to all the time. Being on the road, though, you’re on this
weird schedule, and you get out of synch.” She pauses, shooting
Jeremy a sideways look, and says dryly “Fortunately I have a lot
of people to nag me and keep me healthy.”
“So eat something,” he growls.
“I’ll split something with you,” she offers. They confer over
the menu, and decide on blueberry pancakes. Zanna looks up
with a grin. “It’s called compromise,” she says. “We’ve been
working on it.”
It’s not clear to what degree their relationship is personal
versus professional, even to them. Jeremy, having downed a
mug of coffee and now showing signs of life, admits, “It’s been
kind of hard to sort out. We decided a while back that it was
important to both of us to be able to write together, and I guess
other things got put on hold.” Zanna says nothing.


232


But isn’t it true that he had already, rather publicly, made his
feelings known?
He sighs, and says, “Well, yeah, discretion hasn’t been my
strong suit. And I meant everything I said, and still do, but a lot
of it was taken out of context, okay? And anyway, despite all
that, the fact is, music has defined most of the time we’ve spent
together. When we’re in each other’s company, including this
tour, we’re usually working on something. Creatively, it’s been
really productive.”
“It’s been great,” affirms Zanna buoyantly, evidently more
comfortable with this topic. “For me, it’s been a real learning
experience. As a guitar player, I’m more of a mimic than a
musician. But I’ve picked up a lot, just from being around both
Jeremy and Daniel.”
“You’re better than you think you are,” Jeremy tells her.
“Even if you don’t know the names of chords.” He says “She has
a tendency to say things like ‘that should be da-da-da’ when
we’re writing, but it works, in the end.”
Touring with Jump Cut has been a different experience for Sex
Gun. “We don’t often hang out with other bands much,” he
admits. “But this time, Z and I have been working together a
lot, all of us have played in different combinations, and it’s
resulted in a very loose, informal atmosphere. It’s been-” he
pauses, searching for the right term. He settles on “ – fun.”
He says this as though it’s not a word he’s used much, rather
like it’s a slightly alien concept to him. Zanna smiles a little, and
leans sideways into him. He turns his head to look at her, smiles
back. There is genuine affection between these two, which
seems to belie the rumors that their relationship is built on
stormy sexual attraction, characterized by tension and outright
violence.
Zanna’s eyes widen incredulously when this is mentioned.
“Violence?” she says. “Why would anyone say that? That’s
ridiculous!” She’s visibly upset. Jeremy looks somewhat
resigned; he’s stood accused on many an occasion, although
admittedly not with regard to women.
But there was the incident before Sex Gun’s San Francisco
show, when Jeremy appeared to rather forcibly kiss her, and she
slapped him, and something about handcuffs at the Oceans
benefit. It’s also been suggested that he was, in effect, stalking
her for a time.
“That is such – rot!” fumes Zanna. “It’s true that I did slap
him that one time, and he was out of line and knew it, but


233


sheesh! Calling him a stalker is absurd! I have never, ever,
been the least bit afraid of, or intimidated by, Jeremy Kane.
That’s just stupid.”
Jeremy looks rather gratified by this. She goes on “I think it’s
a big mistake for outsiders to try and judge very personal
interactions between two people. How we relate to each other
doesn’t fit into any neatly labeled pigeonhole that people can
recognize easily, and they seem to resent that. He’s not my
boyfriend, buddy, or brother. We are never going to get married
and breed and live in the slurbs. We’re both strong willed
persons, and sometimes that creates conflict, but people make it
sound like we’re carrying on some weird sadomasochistic
relationship, and that’s total crap.” She adds, “The handcuff
thing is an inside joke, so don’t ask.”
Jeremy looks downright cheerful as the food arrives. He says
to her, “Butter? Maple syrup?” and at her nod, slathers the
pancakes in both. He takes a bite, nods approvingly, spears
another and holds out the fork in Zanna’s direction. She tries it,
says “yum” and picks up her own fork. They proceed to dispatch
pancakes and bacon rapidly, and Zanna helps herself to a sip of
his coffee.
Jeremy says affably, “You forgot the phone number incident.
She assaulted me there, you know. Don’t tell me that one didn’t
get out?”
Encouraged to put it on the record, he tells the story with a
gleam of amusement in his dark eyes.
“This was after MusicTown published the interview clip with
me, where they took some things out of context and made it
sound like I was gratuitously shooting my mouth off about
sleeping with Zanna,” he begins.
Ah, the nirvana interview. Zanna snorts, and Jeremy nods.
“Exactly. Anyway, she was really mad at me, because she had
no way of knowing that it was from a long interview, months
earlier, I’d never given her name, and they’d edited out the real
point of it – I was talking about this really beautiful thing, finding
someone you can connect with instantly and how surprising and
special that is. They just made me sound like a sex obsessed
junkie. I hadn’t been able to reach her to explain, and she was
getting a lot of flak over it.
“So we’re both playing in Seattle that weekend, and Zanna
stops by before the concert to chew me out. I tried telling her
that I would have warned her about it, but I didn’t have her
phone number, and she grabs the marker I’d been writing the


234


set list with, and proceeds to scrawl her phone number all over
me. Up my arm, across my chest, down my middle – and it was
in indelible ink!” He grins. “It took days to get that stuff off, and
in the meantime I had to wear long sleeved shirts for the next
few shows, because you just knew a bunch of people would try
calling the number if they saw it. It started a lot of rumors
though, including one that I was using again and covering up
tracks.”
Zanna says “You never told me that. About the ink.”
He tells her “Never came up.” They exchange a look. This
wordless communication has become typical of them. Later in
the day, killing time before their shows, the two are hanging out
in Sex Gun's large and comfortably furnished dressing room at
the arena, working on new material together. They sit cross-
legged on the floor, close enough that their legs touch and at
times, leaning into each other, their foreheads, a sort of
songwriting by osmosis. Around them, other band members are
doing their thing, support crew come and go, SG tour manager
Tanner Holt is talking to one of the promoters. Through it all,
Jeremy and Zanna remain oblivious to everything but each other
and the music that only they can hear.
Further into the process, one of them, more often Jeremy, will
take up a guitar. At that point, most of the song is in place,
although according to Arik Jones, it’s impossible to tell when that
happened. “I think they do it by ESP,” says the Sex Gun bass
player. “It’s kind of spooky, really.”
Matt Wilder, who co-writes Jump Cut’s songs with Martin,
agrees. “Zan and I write in a more cognitive way. She does
mostly lyrics, I do mostly music, then we combine to put it all
together. But with Z and Jeremy, you can’t tell who’s doing
what. I don’t think they even know.”
Is either band concerned about where their lead singers'
relationship might be leading? No one seems very comfortable
talking about this, although the other members of Sex Gun admit
to a certain level of amazement at the phenomenon of Jeremy
Kane falling in love.
“He’s changed a lot,” comments Johnny Deal, adding “and
mostly for the better. He’s a lot more stable than he used to be.
Not nearly such a hell raiser.” He grins. “Jeremy hasn’t hit
anyone, destroyed anything, or been arrested since he met her.”
Arik agrees, but says cautiously, “The two of them have a lot
of things to work out. And it’s not been easy to find the time for
it.” He seems to be tactfully avoiding mention of the fact that


235


Zanna Martin doesn’t have a lot of space in her life, either.
Jeremy is far from being the only man associated with her.
Since “Taste the Pain” vaulted into the top ten, Zanna has
endured endless speculation about her possible romantic
entanglements, and she’s apt to be curt on the subject (“none of
your business” is a typical response). None of her bandmates
are talking (the only exception being Matt Wilder, who when
asked about his relationship with Zanna, would say only “We’re
friends, we work together, and the rest is none of your
business.”) Zanna has also been linked to Technical Difficulties
(married) frontman Nick Tzezna, actor Kaoru Rhodes, and Kelly
Ross of Slouching towards Bliss. She admits to an ongoing
friendship with Rhodes (“We usually get together when we’re
both in LA at the same time”), will say little about Tzezna, and
comments with annoyance “I've never even met Kelly Ross!”
She’s also not inclined to say much about her relationship with
Jeremy Kane. But then, she probably doesn’t need to. Given
that he’s been amazingly forthcoming about his feelings for her,
one can draw one’s own conclusions from the fact that despite
her reticence, she’s undeniably still willing to be with him.
Or you could go by this typical encounter. As they get ready
to go back to their hotel to catch some rest before the show,
Jeremy reaches over and zips up her jacket. His hand lingers on
the zipper, and she reaches up and covers it briefly with her
own. They exchange a look, warm and smiling. It’s an intimate
moment, and it says it all. Whatever turbulence their
relationship has gone through, there is still the strong impression
that they look after each other. They may not have it all figured
out, but they'll still stand together against the rest of the world.



236









Chapter 25



Zanna had sufficiently cheered up by afternoon to voluntarily go to
the press room to give a sound bite to RockNet, and chat with some
of the radio people. She was just about to leave when they got an
impromptu treat- she spotted Kelly Ross of Bliss talking to
Soundline. She promptly detoured in his direction, blithely
interrupting his interview by saying, "Let me introduce myself, I
hear we're having a torrid affair."
Kelly, whose Celtic good looks featured the unusual combination
of black hair and blue eyes, along with to-die-for cheekbones,
blushed as he said, "Ms. Martin, I do apologize for the
misunderstanding-" Zanna thought she could almost forgive him on
the strength of that accent, alone, but she said severely, "Well,
really! Must you refer to women in terms usually reserved for
food?" He laughed, and said, "I am so sorry!" He went on "The
writer asked me who I thought the…um, the most…desirable
women in rock were. I'm afraid I should have made it clear that I
was speaking from the same vantage point as any fan, rather than
from personal experience." He smiled and said, "I do hope you'll
forgive me." Behind him, Zanna could hear another member of
Bliss mutter "He asked who we thought the most shaggable birds
were," but she chose to ignore that, and told Kell,y "I'll think about
it," with a return smile. The Soundline reporter, an obvious
opportunist, asked her, "Care to comment on anyone else while
you're at it?" and Zanna was seized by a sudden wicked impulse,
and told him, "Well, let me just say that those rumors that Jeremy
and I were married in Vegas last weekend are completely untrue."



237


The rest of the day passed slowly, and Zanna was glad when it was
time to get ready for their set. Jump Cut was on just before Sex Gun
this time, unlike the Oceans benefit where they’d played much
earlier in the day. Zanna wasn’t sure if this reflected having several
songs doing well on the radio, and an album climbing the charts, or
Jeremy having pulled strings, but she didn’t much care. She did
know there was some talk among the other bands about Jump Cut
getting preferential treatment, but shrugged it off. Even if “Taste
This” went quadruple platinum, there’d still be people saying they
were getting favors because of their connection with Sex Gun.
She had noticed during the brief sound check earlier that her
Converse All-Stars tended to slip on the stage surface, and she
decided to see if her boots were any better. She told Spike that she
was going to check it out once the band playing ahead of Jump Cut
was off the stage, and if necessary she could come back to the
dressing room and change.
The Followers were still on when she reached the stage. Playing
over their time limit, too, she noticed. She was waiting impatiently
at the side as they finally came off.
Mike Corrigan, their singer/rapper, brushed by her, and said,
“Get the fuck out of my way, cunt.”
Zanna couldn’t believe her ears, but her temper rose to the
occasion. She caught the front of his shirt, jerked him around and
said sharply, “Watch your mouth, you cretinous piece of arrested
development.”
He gave her an ugly look, his blunt features and shaved head
making him look like a neo Nazi, and said, “You fucking bitches
should only be here for one thing.” He grabbed her by the neck and
kicked her legs out from under her. It happened so quickly, so
shockingly, that her reactions were pure instinct. As her knees hit
the floor, she threw her arms up to break the chokehold. He tackled
her, knocking her to the ground. He was on top of her, tearing at her
clothes, and she felt him grab her breast painfully. She smashed her
forearm in the direction of his face. His grip loosened, and she
rolled swiftly to the side and came up on her feet, but Corrigan was
up, too, and still coming after her. She didn’t wait to find out what
he intended. Zanna stepped up and hit him hard in the midsection
with her left, doubling him over, then caught him in the face with a


238


right uppercut.
He reeled back, yelling incoherently, his face bloody, then rushed
towards her. Zanna sidestepped neatly, wondering where the hell
Security was, aware that he was both bigger and stronger than she,
and at the moment completely psychotic.
And then, apparently out of nowhere, Jeremy was beside her. He
hit Corrigan once, a crashing blow to his face, knocking him
backwards and clean off the stage.
They stood there, looking down at a prostrate Mike Corrigan, the
adrenaline subsiding slowly. Then Zanna said, “That hurt,” shaking
her hand. Jeremy turned to her, but suddenly they were surrounded
by people: Security, one of the promoters, crew members, Spike,
and Matt.
Jeremy said peremptorily to a roadie, “Get us some ice, fast,” and
the man nodded and disappeared. He turned back to Zanna, saying,
“Let’s see the damage.”
“I’m okay,” she said, but Jeremy ignored this. He looked at her
right hand, where the knuckles were scraped and swelling, and
pulled up her shirt, showing abrasions along her ribs where she had
hit the floor.
Matt said softly, “Oh, shit,” as he brushed her hair back, looking
at the purpling swelling at her temple, and a lump on her forehead.
Jeremy turned to Spike, Jump Cut’s tour manager, and said,
“Have someone find Tanner. Looks like Sex Gun’s going on early.”
Zanna’s head came up, and she snapped “No!” Her jaw set and
determined, she said, “ I’m not letting that asshole win. Jump Cut
goes on as scheduled.” Someone handled her a plastic beer cup full
of ice, and she shoved her right hand into it. She looked at Jeremy,
and said, “This is our call, not yours.”
Matt said, “Z, I’m not so sure he isn’t right,” but she shook her
head stubbornly. “That jerk thinks women don’t belong on a rock
stage. That’s what he was saying to me. And here and now, I’m
proving him wrong.” The men looked at her stubborn expression,
and Matt said quietly, “Okay, then. Let's take a look at the setlist,
and see if we can adjust it so you won’t have to play later if your
hand stiffens up too much.” She nodded. “Good thing I didn’t hit
him in the face with my left," she said. "I’d never be able to finger
chords.”


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Jeremy said flatly, “Both of you are insane.”
“But we’re so good at it,” Zanna told him. Amazingly, she was
grinning. She said, “Hey, we won the fight. Be a waste to lose the
war.”
Jeremy said, “Let’s see your hand.” She took it out of the ice,
flexing her fingers gingerly. He shook his head. “I’ll be surprised if
you last for more than a few songs.”
Matt looked concerned, knowing that most of Jump Cut’s
material was arranged for two guitars. He was wondering how well
they could ad lib around it. Zanna was repeating doggedly, “We are
not going to cancel” when Jeremy said, “In that case, I think you’re
going to have to accept some guest appearances.” Looking at Spike
and the promoter, he asked, “How long have we got?”
“We can make an announcement, stretch it out to an additional 25
or 30 minutes,” said the promoter, who looked nervous, like
someone who thought he might be sued. Spike added laconically,
"It's not like they don't know what happened," referring to the fact
that the fight had been in view of most of the audience.
“Okay, then.” Jeremy looked at Zan and Matt, who were staring
at him, surprised. “What’s wrong with you two?” he said. “You
want to go through with this, we’ll do it as a group effort to save
wear and tear on Z. So let’s grab Daniel and figure out what stuff
we all know how to play.”
Zanna’s smile was like a sunburst after the storm. Radiant, she
slipped an arm around Jeremy, kissed his cheek, and said
ebulliently, “What a guy!” Matt was grinning, as he said, “We're
there.” He turned back though, and told Spike quietly, “See if you
can find some painkillers.”

They assembled, both bands, in Sex Gun’s dressing room. Matt was
sitting at the table, with Jeremy next to him, and Zanna across. Both
Jeremy and Zanna had ice packs on their right hands; Zanna was
holding one to her face as well. The others pulled up chairs, sat on
the floor, or in Johnny’s case, prowled restlessly. They had been
understandably shocked by the news of Corrigan’s attack on Zanna,
but caught on immediately to Jeremy’s plan.
“It makes sense,” said Arik. “We’ve all played together in some
combination by now – tonight we’ll just be doing it for a bigger


240


audience than our crews, that’s all. The audience’ll dig it; you know
how they love something different.”
“Let’s start with Jump Cut’s stuff,” said Jeremy. “Dan, what do
you know well enough to play?”
Daniel ran through their usual setlist mentally. “4 letter word,
Taste, that Supremes one.”
Briskly, Jeremy said, “Right. I can do Triage and Girlfriend
without totally fucking up.” Matt jotted that down, and said, "Rue
de Misery's only one guitar anyway."
Zanna said to Jeremy, concerned, “Are you sure your hand is
okay?” and he smiled at her and said, “Don’t worry, it won’t be the
first time I’ve done this.”
David remarked, “We should call this Jump Gun.”
“Or Sex Cut,” said Matt. Jeremy grinned. “Jump Sex,” he said.
“The cast of thousands,” contributed Andy.
Matt looked at the list. “It’s not enough.”
Daniel was remembering something. “You guys used to do some
covers, right? You did ‘Under the Bridge’ on your video. That’s
only one guitar.”
“Where’d you see that?” asked Zanna, surprised. Jeremy and
Daniel exchanged a guilty look. “MTV’s secret files,” said Jeremy
finally. “Back in my days as a stalker.”
“This could work,” said Arik. “What other covers do you do?”
“Some of your stuff,” remembered Matt, with a grin.
Arik and Jeremy looked at each other. “Let’s do a free-for-all on
‘Do You Wanna Know,’” suggested Arik. “It’ll be a blast, and no
one will care if it’s sloppy.”
Jeremy said, looking from Matt to Zan, “Close with that one?”
“Why not,” said Zanna.
Arik said to Matt, “Let’s go talk to your tech crew, and fill them
in on how we’re doing this.”
“Right.” Matt got up, pausing by Zanna, his hands resting lightly
on her shoulders. He leaned over, and said in her ear, “Sure you’re
up for this?”
“Absolutely,” she replied with conviction.
Jeremy was watching her closely as she got up, noticing the
stiffness and her careful expression as she moved. She saw him
looking, and said, “It’s nothing serious.” He raised an eyebrow, and


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she laughed and said, “Hey, wiping out on roller blades was much
worse.” She leaned back against the table, and Jeremy looked up at
her, waiting.
Zanna said, “Thanks for this, Jeremy.”
His mouth quirked at the corner. “I still think you’re insane,” he
told her, “but if this is what you want to do – well, I’m trying to be
supportive here.” He added wryly, “Practicing that relationship shit,
in case, someday, it happens.”
Her look was warm. “You’re doing great,” she said.

Soundline Review: Jump Cut at Kjo Show, Philadelphia
Getting by with a little help from her friends: bloodied, battered,
but unbowed, Zanna Martin rocks on as her band is joined by the
gang from Sex Gun

…For a while it looked like the chances of Jump Cut playing their
set were slim to none. After the bizarre attack of an apparently
drugged out Mike Corrigan (see Newsline, insert) which left
singer Zanna Martin bruised and bleeding, there was an
announcement that there would be a delay, but no indication of
who would play next. A restless thirty minute interval went by,
then the lights went down, and a solo spot focused on Jump
Cut’s Matt Wilder. The handsome young guitar player told the
crowd, “Okay, we’re going to try and do this…it’s probably going
to be a little rough, because our rhythm player’s injured, so we’ll
have some ringers filling in. Thanks for your patience, and
forgive us when we screw up.” He got a warm round of applause
as he walked over to pick up his guitar, and the crowd waited,
agog. Wilder was joined by drummer David Weir and bass
player Andy Mitchell, and finally Zanna Martin herself, walking
with a perceptible limp, took her place at center stage, to an
enthusiastic ovation. Raising her fist high in the air in a power
salute, she paused for a moment, silhouetted against the
backlighting, and then she brought her arm down to strike a
slashing chord, and the show was on.
Jump Cut opened with “Cover Me,” with Martin managing both
vocals and guitar ably, but she was obviously struggling on the
second number, “Just Say Go,” and could be seen in between the
songs gulping down painkillers and Diet Coke at the side of the
stage. Whether through Vicodan or sheer force of will, she
proceeded to give the day’s most riveting performance.
Abandoning her guitar, with scrapes and bruises visible she


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stepped up to the mike as a new rhythm player took over –
Jeremy Kane of Sex Gun, making a rare appearance onstage
with a guitar. The song was, appropriately enough, “Life is
Triage.”
From then on, the line up changed constantly as members of
Sex Gun came and went. Jump Cut has been opening for Sex
Gun on the east coast tour, and SG bass player Arik Jones said
to the crowd “Now you know what we’ve been doing in our hotel
rooms on this trip.” Among the highlights were “Girlfriend,” with
Martin flirting shamelessly with Kane, who was laughing
throughout most of the song, and “Love is a 4 Letter Word” with
Daniel da Silva spelling Kane as the second guitar. Watching da
Silva and Wilder, both virtuoso guitarists, jamming on that one
was alone worth the price of admission.
The rotating group elected to play several cover tunes, and
one choice, the Chili Pepper lament to heroin, “Under the
Bridge,” seemed especially poignant, given Kane’s struggle with
addiction and Martin’s reported reluctance to become seriously
involved with him. When Kane sang about feeling that he doesn’t
have a partner, the words seemed invested with special
significance.
The set ended with Sex Gun’s “Do You Wanna Know?” a wild
affair with virtually every member of both bands joining in, and
Kane and Martin razzle dazzling their way through verses and
chorus alike. Both have an abundance of sexual magnetism,
never more apparent than when they’re playing off each other
onstage, and together they generate a high level of erotic
energy.
By the end of it all, Zanna Martin looked fragile and
exhausted. As the adrenaline and /or painkillers wore off, she
was limping and obviously hurting. But as she came to the front
of the stage, saying "Thank you, Philadelphia, for your brotherly
love," her smile was as warm as ever, and the audience paid
tribute to her personal charisma, talent, and sheer gutsiness with
a prolonged and heartfelt ovation. With her trademark gesture,
she blew a kiss to the crowd, and walked haltingly off the stage,
flanked by Kane on one side, and Matt Wilder on the other.

RockNet Newsline:
The Philadelphia Radio KJO alternative rock showcase was
marred by a strange and violent incident when The Followers’
Mike Corrigan, leaving the stage after their set, inexplicably
attacked Jump Cut vocalist Zanna Martin, who was standing just


243


offstage. Corrigan came off the worse for the encounter,
sustaining a broken nose, fractured jaw, and fractured coccyx,
the latter occurring after Jeremy Kane of Sex Gun came to
Martin’s aid and threw Corrigan off the stage. Martin herself
sustained minor injuries, but nonetheless performed with Jump
Cut, with guest appearances from current touring partners Sex
Gun. (click here for review).
A spokesperson for The Followers acknowledged that Corrigan
was under the influence of drugs and would be entering a rehab
program immediately.
The attack has led to a rekindled debate over the connection
between rock music and violence, given the blatantly
misogynistic material of Corrigan’s band, whose latest album
features songs with titles such as Bitch Slap, and The Only Good
Woman (Is On Her Knees). Many took satisfaction in the fact
that the tough and athletic Martin defended herself ably.
But others worry that the effectiveness of Martin’s response
might detract from the real danger that women face from
violence. “Let’s face it, most of us aren’t like Zanna Martin,” said
Veronica Taylor from the girl band Saturday's Child. “She’s a
jock who must have had martial arts training. Most women
wouldn’t have stood a chance.”
The Followers’ camp has issued numerous statements
apologizing for the incident, calling it the regrettable result of
substance abuse. Others have pointed out that drug use and
unprovoked attacks on bystanders do not necessarily go
together. Certainly one could doubt the sincerity of Mike
Corrigan’s brief apology. Speaking through a wired jaw, he read
a prepared statement, which sounded stilted and artificial as well
as generally lacking in contrition, then added sourly. “You gotta
show respect for women, because you never know which one’s
the black belt with the psychopath boyfriend.”
Meanwhile, the psycho in question, Jeremy Kane, has
reportedly said that The Followers will never play again on a
slate with Sex Gun. Kane’s LA powerhouse band has the right to
veto any group from an event in which they play, under their
contract as headliners. Since Sex Gun is expected to do most of
the major festivals next year, it looks like The Followers’ live
performances will be sharply curtailed.


244









Chapter 26



As they left the stage, Jeremy pulled Matt aside. “Look after her,”
he said. For maybe the first time in his life, he was really wishing
that he didn’t have to perform. He was worried about Zanna, and he
wanted to stay with her.
Matt could have pointed out that he’d been with her for a lot
longer than Jeremy had been in the picture, and hardly needed to be
told this, but he knew something of what the other man was going
through. With Zanna, it was always complicated by the fact that
you weren’t quite sure if you had the right to take care of her. And
it was even weirder now that both of them had these odd, in-between
relationships with her.
Matt hoped they could get some peace and quiet, but it obviously
wasn’t in the cards. For starters, the promoters had a doctor waiting
for Zanna, an off duty resident who was evidently into rock music.
He was in his late twenties, with short dark hair and wire rim
glasses, and he looked her over with professional competence before
saying “Well, if I’d seen you first, I would have strongly
recommended against your playing tonight – but since I didn’t, may
I say that I thought you were wonderful?” He had a nice smile, she
noticed, as she returned it and thanked him.
“You’re going to feel sore for a few days,” he told her. “You’ve
been knocked around quite badly.” Zanna said stoically “You
should see the other guy,” and the resident smiled. “I did,” he said.
He went on, “Excuse me for being blunt, but have you used
narcotics?” Zanna, not quite getting it, said, “I think I had codeine
after getting my tonsils out,” and the doctor suppressed a laugh, and


245


said, “Sorry, what I meant was something more like heroin or
cocaine. We don’t prescribe narcotic based pain relievers if
someone’s been a user.”
She said blankly, “You’re asking if I’m an addict?”
The doctor looked abashed. “I’m sorry. In your line of work, it’s
not uncommon, and forgive me for putting it this way, but also not
unheard of among the company you’re keeping.” Seeing her look of
incredulity, he said briskly, “I take it it’s not an issue here,” and
gave her a small vial of pills, adding, “Don’t drink or drive.”
Zanna rejoined Matt and the promoter in the hall, shaking her
head. The police were next on the list.
It had already occurred to Zanna that she and Jeremy might be in
trouble, given his record and the damage done to Corrigan. She was
relieved there seemed to be no doubt in the minds of the cops that it
had been self defense. They had her firmly cast in victim mode.
The female cop took Polaroids of her bruises and scrapes, including
what had by now developed into visible finger marks on her throat
and breast.
After the cops, it was the press. The promoter whisked Zanna
and Matt to the conference room where a table was set up with
microphones and a surprising number of journalists. She gave a
brief statement about the attack, and Matt talked about how the
show became a Jump Cut/Sex Gun joint effort. They answered a
few questions, then Zanna begged off on grounds of not feeling
well.

When she was finally in her room alone, Zanna found herself wholly
unable to relax. There were a number of phone messages, including
one from Nick, who had already heard what happened. She returned
that one, noticing from the area code that he must be back in
Toronto. They talked briefly, and she declined his offer to come
down to Philly.
“I’m okay, really,” she said. “And we go home tomorrow,
anyway.”
His voice warm and concerned, he said, “I know you’re
independent to a fault, Zanna, so just let me tell you this: let Jeremy
look after you this time. You won’t be doing either of you a favor
by toughing it out alone.” Feeling her surprise over the line, he


246


added “Look, I always knew I wasn’t going to be the one for you.
And I don’t even like Jeremy Kane. But I’ll say this for him – he
would do anything for you, if you’d give him the chance. And since
you obviously have feelings for him, you should try and open up a
little more.”
“This is weird,” she told him. “You’re on Jeremy’s side?”
Nick said, “Zanna, darling, I’m not choosing sides. I’m only
saying don’t be so stubborn, or scared, that you miss out on
something you really do want.” She was silent, mentally reeling
from his perceptiveness, but not ready to acknowledge that he might
be right. He continued, “Anyway, know that as a friend I’m here
anytime you need me, and don’t hesitate to call.”
She said, “You know, you really are a great guy.” He laughed, as
he said “Thanks.” She rang off, feeling somewhat the better for
having talked with him.
She took a hot bath, and then changed into pjs. She deliberately
did not turn on the TV, not wanting to see herself on the news. She
couldn’t seem to settle into reading. She was sore and tired, and
feeling weirdly disconnected.
The analytical part of her mind was saying “post traumatic
shock” in a dispassionate tone – and the other part was feeling
fragile. She wanted the comfort of someone’s arms around her.
But whose? That was the problem. It wouldn’t be fair to either
Jeremy or Matt. The way she was feeling, it would be all too easy to
end up in bed. It was as though having experienced the worst that
men could be, she wanted badly to feel now the love, warmth and
passion that was the best. All of that was available to her, from
either man. The hell of it was, she couldn’t make either any
promises.
She felt very much alone.
The wicked part of her soul was whispering that it was the last
night of the tour, anyway. Sex Gun was off to Europe. Jump Cut
had a layoff. Whatever she did tonight, the consequences wouldn’t
be in her face tomorrow, at least.
She resolutely told the wicked voice to shut up. She and Matt
were obviously going to have to deal with one another in the not too
distant future, and Jeremy was no one to mess with at any time. If
she had learned one lesson from that first night, it was not to take


247


him lightly.
She picked up her notebook, and in desperation, started to write.
Nothing too coherent, just a cathartic flood of words. Then she
started picking out phrases, and putting them on a new page. It
seemed to be working itself into a song, something about anger and
violence. She reached an impasse, and mentally shelved it for later.
She was just turning to a fresh page, when there was a light knock
on her door.
It was Matt. He’d evidently done pretty much the same thing she
had; his long hair was damp. He was wearing sweatpants and a
loose t-shirt, and was barefoot.
“Figured you were still up,” he said. “Anything I can do?”
“I’m okay,” she said automatically, stepping back to let him in.
“You’re such a liar, Z,” he told her.
She sat down, cross-legged on the bed, and said, “I didn’t say I
felt great. Just okay.”
Matt stretched out along the foot of the bed, lying comfortably on
his back, head turned so he could watch her. “Seriously?”
“Seriously, I’m feeling pretty weirded out.”
“You in much pain?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No big deal. Anyway, that doctor gave me
some stuff, once he decided I wasn’t a junkie.”
“What?” Matt looked startled.
“Right, funny thing, huh? It never occurred to me before. That
people would think that about us, because we’re in a band. Because
we’re touring with Sex Gun.”
“It bothers you, doesn’t it?” he said shrewdly. “Because of
Jeremy.”
She said warily, “What do you mean?”
He looked at her sympathetically. “That’s one of the big reasons
you’re afraid to get involved with him, right? So you hate being
reminded that he’s a former addict.”
She pulled her knees up, wrapped her arms around them.
“Probably,” she agreed sadly. “Although there are a lot of other
reasons as well. And not all to do with him.”
Matt, who knew more about her past than Jeremy did, said, "You
can't run away forever, Z." She looked up, and said, "Actually, I
probably can," and he said, "That's pretty selfish, isn't it?" She


248


stared at him, a little shocked, and he added, "It's not just your life,
Zanna. It's not just yourself you're sentencing to being alone.
Maybe you should think about that at some point."
What was with everyone tonight, she thought dizzily.
Changing the subject, he said, “Hell of a note to end our tour on.”
Chin resting on her knees, rocking slightly, Zanna said, “Could
have been worse.” At his enquiring look, she said, “We played – all
of us – a great show. An absolutely ass kicking concert.”
Matt grinned at her. “We did, didn’t we.”
She continued, “So I figure the night started with a few crummy
minutes, followed by – what? An hour?- of the best that this crazy
rock and roll life has to offer.” She paused. “Wonder how Sex
Gun’s set went?”
“I’m sure the audience got their money’s worth,” said Matt.
“One thing you gotta give those guys, they’re pros through and
through.”
“Unlike us,” she said. “I don’t know how they’ve been able to do
it, so consistently, for all these years.”
“Well, look at how well they treat themselves, for starters! I
mean, no Motel 6 for Sex Gun!”
She chuckled. “They do go the deluxe route, don’t they? And
they take it for granted – the fancy hotels, people to supply your
every creature comfort. While we’re all wide eyed, and, like wow!”
“I could get used to this,” Matt admitted.
That reminded her of something. “So what do we do next?” she
asked him.
Before he could answer, there was another knock. Matt made a
wry face as Zanna got up and padded to the door. As he had
thought, it was Jeremy.
“Saw your light was on,” he said.
Zanna said, “Come join the post mortem,” as she went back to
her spot on the bed.
Matt hadn’t moved. Jeremy checked at the sight of him, then
shrugged and took up a post on Zanna’s other side. Leaning back
against the headboard, elbows on knees, arms dangling loosely, he
looked from Zan to Matt.
Zanna thought he looked tired.
Matt said comfortably, “We were just wondering about you.


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How’d your set go?”
Jeremy sighed. “All right, is about it,” he admitted. “It felt like a
letdown, after yours. Although I think the crowd drank enough in
the intervals that most of them wouldn’t have noticed.” He looked
at Zanna. “How are you doing?”
“All right, is about it,” she echoed, with a small smile. “I’m just
as glad to be going home tomorrow.”
Jeremy said wearily, “I wish we were, too. Or that you were
coming to Europe with us.” He added, noticing that Matt was
giving him a considering look, “Jump Cut is by far the most
entertaining bunch of people we’ve toured with. We’ll miss you
guys.”
Matt said, sounding his age for once, “I wish we were going, too!
I’ve never been there.”
Jeremy grinned at him. “In all honesty, I have to say that
Germany in November is not the greatest time I can think of.”
Zanna said, “We’re holding out for Paris in the spring.”
Jeremy started to say something, caught himself, stopped. The
other two looked at him with mild surprise. He changed the subject.
“Have you been to Europe, Z?”
She laughed. “I grew up there.”
“No kidding?” Jeremy was surprised, although he didn’t know
why. Maybe just because of this further evidence that there was so
much they didn’t know about each other.
“Really. I was born near Cannes, in France. We moved to
London when I was about six, and were there for five years.”
Jeremy was digesting this, when Matt reluctantly pulled himself up
off the bed.
“I’m beat,” he announced. “Z, if by any insane chance, you
decide you have to run in the morning, get me up and I’ll go with
you, okay?” She nodded, and walked him to the door. Matt put
both arms around her, and held her close for a long moment. She
hugged him back, and he kissed her, lightly but on the mouth, and
said, “Sweet dreams, sweet Z.” Glancing in Jeremy’s direction, he
added, “Good night, Jeremy. If I don’t see you before you leave,
have a good time in Europe.”
“I’ll send you a postcard,” said Jeremy lazily, not moving from
the bed.


250



Zanna closed the door behind Matt, and picked up the vial the doctor
had supplied. She shook out a pill and downed it with a swallow of
water, and Jeremy said, “What’d they give you?”
She consulted the label. “Percodan,” she read.
“That should knock you out,” he remarked.
“Hope so. I could use the sleep.” She lay back down on the bed.
Jeremy glanced down at her with compassion. He knew about her
insomnia. She looked exhausted as well as beat up. “I wish,” he
began, then stopped.
Her changeable eyes, the color of the ocean on a winter day just
now, traveled slowly up to meet his, dark and concerned. “What?”
she said. He smoothed her hair back, noting the bruises. He leaned
down and gently kissed the undamaged side of her face, and softly,
“I wish I could make things easier for you, Z.”
She said drowsily, “Tonight, you did.” She turned on her side,
wincing a little, and propped herself up on her elbow. “It was really
important to me to play this show,” she told him. “And without you,
it wasn’t going to happen.”
He smiled, but said honestly, “I thought you were nuts.”
“I know. That’s why it means so much. You were still willing to
help me do what I had to do. That’s-” she hesitated. “That’s being a
really good friend.”
“No, Zanna.” His tone was somber. “It’s called love.”
“Doesn’t really matter what you call it,” she said. He could see
the drug was taking hold; she was having trouble keeping her eyes
open. He slid down the headboard so that he was lying next to her.
She rested her head on her arm, and her eyes closed. He was struck
by the irony that here they were, lying together, as they had this
morning, side by side – and nothing happening, so to speak. He
thought that if he were a nice guy, or a gentleman, or whatever, he’d
leave now, and decided without regret that he wasn’t. Because he
was staying until she threw him out.
“It’s okay,” she murmured. “You…can stay if…you want.”
She must have read his mind, he thought. He said, “Under the
covers with you, then.” She obediently slid the blankets from under
her, and slipped out of her robe. She was wearing an oversized Sex
Gun t-shirt underneath, he noticed with amusement. He pulled the


251


blanket up over her, and hesitated. Then he shrugged to himself,
pulled off his sweatshirt and let his jeans drop to the floor. Last
night of the tour, and god knew when he’d see her again. Might as
well be comfortable. He was well aware that she was hurt, under the
influence of a strong narcotic, and possibly emotionally vulnerable,
and he had no intention of taking advantage of her condition. But he
was damned if he was going to leave her by herself.
She curled up against him, warm and close. He turned off the
light, and said, “Good night, Zanna love.” He thought she was
already out, but she replied sleepily, “Night, Jeremy. Wish it wasn’t
over…so soon…” Her voice faded and her breathing deepened.
He wondered what she meant.
* * * *
Zanna stirred, felt him next to her, paused. Confused, she opened
her eyes. Jeremy. She felt a touch of relief, followed by a flash of
humour. It seemed pretty funny, after all they’d been through, that
she was finding it reassuring to wake up with him.
He felt her move against him, and thought here we go again, with
some anxiety. Not that anything had happened last night, but … he
told himself this was the last time he went to bed with Zanna Martin
when she was under the influence. Of anything. Then he heard her
give a sleepy chuckle, and, amazingly, far from freaking out, this
time she was cuddling up to him, her arm across his chest, the arch
of her foot rubbing familiarly over his instep.
He wrapped both arms around her, and said, “Good morning,
Zanna.”
“Hey.” She raised her head and smiled drowsily at him, then
nuzzled into his neck in a friendly way. He was beginning to think
the situation was rather promising when the phone rang.
Zanna rolled over, not without some reluctance, and picked up
the receiver. “’Lo?”
It was Tanner. “Sorry to bother you, Zanna, but have you seen
Jeremy?” he asked with elaborate casualness. Zanna rubbed her
eyes, and looked at the clock. Eight o’clock? Could that possibly
be right? She said to Tanner, “He’s right here,” and handed the
phone to Jeremy, who looked distinctly put out.
“What,” he said, not nicely.
Zanna slid out of bed, went to the minifrig and got a bottle of


252


mineral water. She took a long pull, marveling at how long they’d
slept. She stretched carefully, taking inventory. Stiff and sore, but
all in all, not bad. She hoped vengefully that Mike Corrigan felt like
absolute crap.
Jeremy was saying, “What do you mean, moved up?” He
listened, then said flatly, “No fucking way.” Zanna saw his jaw
tighten as he listened to Tanner. “Well, I’m not,” he said. Pause.
Then he said, “I don’t care if the whole fucking tour gets cancelled.”
Zanna had a feeling she knew where this was coming from. She
crossed over to the bed and took the receiver out of Jeremy’s hand.
Moving adroitly out of reach, she asked, “Tanner, what’s going on?”
Sex Gun’s tour manager sounded stressed, but he still said,
“Zanna, how are you doing this morning?”
“Okay, thanks. So tell me, why is Jeremy looking pissed off?”
He was lying flat on his back, hands behind his head, staring at the
ceiling, lips tightly compressed.
Tanner said, “Because the band needs to catch an earlier flight.
There have been a bunch of cancellations because of bad weather in
New York, and-”
Calmly she said, “How soon are you leaving?”
Tanner answered, “Twenty minutes, more or less. Zanna, I’m
sorry.”
“Life,” she told him. “What can you do? He’ll meet you in the
lobby.” She hung up and regarded Jeremy with a touch of wry
amusement.
“To be continued,” she said, sitting down next to him.
He sat up, and looking at him, she was genuinely sorry he had to
leave. He looked cross, sleepy, and eminently desirable. She ran
her hand over his naked torso, liking the silky smoothness of his
skin, the hardness of the muscle. He gave her a glum look, and said,
“I cannot fucking believe this.”
She rumpled his thick black hair with an affectionate gesture.
“Maybe next time,” she said. He groaned and reached for her,
pulling her into his arms, cradling her against him. He kissed the
top of her head, and said, “So when’s that going to be?”
“Beats me,” she admitted honestly. She hugged him back.
“You’ve got to get going.”
“Yeah. I suppose.” He released her, slid out of bed and hauled


253


on his jeans. Going to the sink and splashing his face with water, he
said, “If I email you, would you write me back?”
Surprised, Zanna said, “I didn’t know you had a computer.”
“I don’t,” he said. “Yet.”
“Oh.” She thought about it. “Sure.”
Jeremy pulled his sweatshirt over his head. “Arik have your
address?” he asked.
“I expect so,” she replied. “Anyway, I’ll send him a message,
then he’ll have it for sure.” Jeremy looked skeptical, and she
laughed. “I’m much better about email than phone calls,” she said.
They stood looking at each other. Zanna said, “It’s been swell.”
His expression was hard to read. She added, “I mean that. I’ve
really enjoyed touring with you, this last week.”
“Then let’s do it again, soon,” he said. She said nothing, but put
her arms around him. He held her for a moment, acutely aware of
the shape of her under the t-shirt. God, he wanted her so badly. Not
just to make love with her, but to have breakfast with her, share the
newspaper, even go for a stupid run if that was what she wanted to
do. He wanted the casual intimacy as much as he craved her
sexuality. He was ready to quit his goddamn band if it meant he
could stay with her.
She apparently was still adept at reading his mind, because she
pushed him away and said sternly, “Go.”
“Yeah. Okay.” He sighed, and walked to the door. Turned back
to look at her. “Zanna,” he began.
“Later.” She smiled, but her eyes were serious. She didn’t want
him to say it. Her gaze met his, and he held it, willing her to feel
what she wouldn’t let him tell her.
He said then “See you around,” and he was gone.
She drew a deep breath, let it out slowly. She felt a sense of
desolation, of loss, was shocked by its strength.
Don’t be such a baby, she told herself. Deal with it.


254









Chapter 27



To: Zanna
From: Jeremy
Re: hi

Who knew Mrs. Wasburn was right and I’d actually find a
use for what I was supposed to learn in her stupid typing
class/ we thought it was a way to meet girrls
So here we are in Amsterdam where it always seems to be
raining. Our hotel is one of those soulless ones for business
people. They have a conference room with modems and
computers for the business types to plug into, and tha’ts
where I’m writing thiss. It’s the ungodly hour of eight o clock
in the MORNING but I couldn’t sleep any longer. So me and
some executives are here, typing away. They keep eyeing
me, and so far they’re all sitting as far away as possible. I
took a shower so it’s not that oh I get it I think it’s the butthole
surfers shirt. Yeah.
So where were we? Oh yeah, you were kickingme out of
your hotel room. Do you know, zanna, I was ready to blow off
this tour if it meant I could spend the morning with you. Yeah,
you did know didn’t you, why you threw me out.
I’mnot used to this typing shit I can’t think and write this
way. Can you?
Can’t draw pictures, either.
Can’t figure out how to end this. I don’t seem to have said
anything of import.
Well, fuck it.


255


Love, jeremy
Oh could you reply SOON so I know this works ??????

To: Jeremy
From: Z
Re: nice to hear from you

One thing you’ve got to give email, it’s fast! But I know
what you mean about it being difficult to think – I can’t write
anything creative on a computer, unless you count vicious
lawyerly communications.
I’m guessing you’ll get this in Germany – where’s Bob a
what’s it, anyway?
Not much new here. Just talked to Sarah, they want a
video for Downtown, so we’ll probably go out to LA for a few
days sometime within the month. My idea is to do a walk
through a scary, trashed out sort of urban core. Probably the
irony would be wasted on the kids that watch the videos,
though…
btw (that’s computer speak for by the way) you don’t have
to say anything important in email. It’s communication for a
junkfed world, no content needed.
Read you later,
Zanna


To: Zanna
From: Jeremy
Re: no content

Right, germany, no idea where the fuck it is. Still raining.
Far as I know, this place consists of a Sporthalle where Hit ler
would have been right at hom.
It’s late, post show, which wasn’t great, in my opinion.
Arik’s got a cold and is on the listless side. I realized how
much we take him for granted sometimes, he really drives a
lot of our music and even when he’s not dead on he’s still
better than most but…it took more effort tonight, for me to get


256


into it.
Tomorrow Hamburg then upt o Scandanavia. Tell Matt
he’s not missing a thing.

To: Jeremy
From: Zan
Re: my day

Sometimes it’s so nice to be at home, after our vagabond
autumn…this morning I got up early and had a leisurely cup of
coffee curled up on the dining room window seat, watching
the sky turn rosy colors as the sun came up. Then I went to
the gym and did my thing, which felt great. Went to the caf for
a chai and wrote for a while. Seems to be a song, with
bondage metaphors.
Went to the library, major score there, several books I’ve
been waiting for were in. Listened to Californication while
making soup and a pasta casserole. God, they’re good! (The
band, I mean, not the food, although hopefully it will be). You
know the song Road Trippin? It reminds me of our day at
Point Parrish. Made cranberry cake while rocking out to Foo
Fighter’s latest (easily their best, imho) realized I had way too
much food on hand, and called Matt to invite him over for
dinner. We were going to a movie tonight anyway.

All for now, Z


To: Z
From: Jeremy
Re: questions and answers

What’s an imho?
You cook? Do you eat it, too?
How far did you run?
What books?
What movie?



257


Bondage? Cool. Can I be in the video?
Road trippin, excellent song, makes my soundtrack for
highlights of 1999.
Nothing Left to Lose, I agree, FFs most developed effort.

To: Jeremy
From: Zanna
Re: LOL!!

Which stands for laughing out loud, a way of giving a cyber
chuckle.
IMHO in my humble opinion.
Yes, I cook and eat too, don’t be such a smart ass. And I’m
not telling you how far I’m running, since I detect a censorious
tone there.
Books: Stone Quarry, by SJ Rozan, a series I like. And
believe it or not, Harry Potter #2.
Movie: The Red Violin, two thumbs up.

Jump Cut’s off for a quickie Southwest jaunt opening for
Slouching towards Bliss. Don’t believe anything you hear
about Kelly Ross and myself, okay?
It snowed five inches last night, so I’m ready for Arizona!

To: Zanna
From: Jeremy
Re: your tour or mine?

According to your website, you must be either en route or in
Albuquerque. How is it being on tour with Bliss?
Scandanavia was grim, and do their journalists ever ask
some stupid fucking questions. I think my favorite was “If you
were a tree, what kind would you be?” I said I don’t know one
fucking tree from another. So then he asks me what animal
I’d be.
True confessions time: I said the z word. Hopefully that
article will never be translated into English and most of the
world will remain in ignorance (and won’t be impelled to ask


258


you about it). Anyway, sorry.
We’re off to Milan tomorrow, then Spain. Arik keeps saying
if Jump Cut was here, they’d know where to eat. We miss
you.


259



To: Jeremy
From: Z
Re: HOUSE PET???

That’s right, you underestimated my sources and the vast
power of the Internet. I had your quote in 24 hours:
“whatever house pet Zanna prefers.”
So what, a stupid question deserves a moronic answer???
Oh, btw, that would make you a GSD.
Anyway, I’m forgiving you this one, because I want to ask a
favor. I have a friend who's going to be at your show in
Barcelona. Any chance you can give him an autographed
something, whatever, and make his night?
(I should perhaps explain here that technically I’ve never
met him FTF, we're cyber chums).


To: Zanna
From: Jeremy
Re: sure

We’ve got a meet and greet there anyway, fan club contest
I think, so I’ll put your friend's name on the list. How is it you
know him?
I’m told gsd stands for German Shepherd Dog. I’m glad it
wasn’t a poodle.

To: Jeremy
From: Z
Re: cyber friend

Thanks, that’s great! His English is excellent, btw. His
name is Eduardo, and how I know him….um, question for
you. Where do you stand on the MP3 / Napster controversy?
Because if you're in Lars Ulrich's camp, I can't tell you.




260


I think Metallica are missing the point in trying to shut down
a site-ten more will just spring up in Napster’s place. But
probably we all need to think about how to use the electronic
marketplace ourselves, without alienating fans.




Acceptable response. He's an amazingly talented cracker
who keeps me supplied with a complete music library (the
stuff I use for running) and some video, too. Unbelievable
bootlegs, including some of your stuff. (Loved your
performance at Riverfest in 95,btw. Almost as good as SF
this year ) He also runs a Bush fansite.

You should get Gavin to do something, too.

I don’t know Gavin.

Really? Could have sworn I read in Soundline that you
two…..just kidding.

To: Jeremy
From: Zan
Re: ha ha

Oh, funny.

Anyway – Bliss is fine to tour with, definitely a step up from
Killer App ( and for that matter, Sex Gun, Part 1, since Bliss
doesn’t yell at me) but not as much fun as Sex Gun, Part 2,
but then who is? I guess we miss you guys, too.
We’re in TX now – Houston and Dallas were featureless
wastelands, but we’re off to San Antonio, which I’m looking
forward to. Good food, we hear. Tell Arik we’ll be thinking of
him.


261



To: Zanna
From: Jeremy
Re: Barcelona

Hey, your friend was a treat. Very nice, very cool. We
gave him and his bud onstage passes.
On to zurich…or maybe berlin, I’mnot sure. London is last,
then home and I can’t wait.
Oh, fyi, my spanish is actually a bit better than Eduardo's
english

Duh, I should have known that, you being a So Cal native
and all. What else don’t I know?
San An was wonderful. Warm climate, warm people.
Great show.

To: Zanna
From: Jeremy
Re: what else?

Yeah, we seem to have some gaps, don’t we? Is there any
possibility that we could spend some time together and fill in a
few?

The last few days were frantic – a lot of PR stuff.
Interviews, a thing with MTV Europe, a “secret” club show in
Berlin. Johnny dug it, lots of sinister looking chicks in black
leather.
I’ve been reading Tom Brokaw’s book on the WWII
generation – those days seem a lot closer over here. I was
struck by how matter of fact they were about the shocking
things that were happening to them. There was a nurse who
was with a mash unit on the beaches, where they were trying
to do surgery with bullets ripping through their tent. Her
reflection was that she hasn’t liked camping since.
Makes you think.


262



To: Jeremy
From: Z
Re: nothing left to chance

So I see we are going to be spending some time together
soon, since I’m told we’re doing the Big Day Out tour, in
Australia, after the new year. As is Sex Gun, of course.
Who’d you have to blackmail for that?
Know what you mean about Europe and the past. And I
thought the same thing about that book. The one that got me
was about the soldiers blown up by landmines, just barely
alive, calmly shooting up with morphine so they could stay
functioning long enough to talk the next soldiers thru the
minefield, knowing they themselves were dead.
Fly home tonight, after the show. Hurrah.

To: Zanna
From: Jeremy
Re: Big Day Out

Okay, this is the frustrating thing about email, I can’t tell if
you’re sounding sarcastic, or what.
Didn’t have to blackmail anyone, not that I wouldn’t have
done it, but you’re selling like wildfire in Oz.
Are you mad at me????????????????????????


To: Jeremy
From: Zanna
Re: mad

No.
Love, Z


263









Chapter 28



Sex Gun was back in California, taking a break until after the new
year, when Maia called Jeremy about the Take Two party.
“This is your chance to get the jump on everyone,” she said.
“Invitations don’t go out until Tuesday. Sarah’s already called
Zanna and told her how we want as many artists as possible, et
cetera. And Zanna did say that the rest of Jump Cut won’t be
available, so obviously she isn’t going with Matt.”
“Okay,” said Jeremy, thinking. “She’s in Minnesota until the Big
Day Out tour?”
“No,” Maia told him. “She’s going to be in Hawaii through the
holidays. She has family there.” Jeremy wondered why everyone
but him seemed to know these things about Zanna.
“Anyway,” Maia continued, “It’ll be easy enough for her to go
out through LA and stop over for a few days. So call her right
away.”
“Yeah. Is this a fancy thing?” he asked.
“Black tie optional, but yes, on the fancy side.”
“Fuck,” said Jeremy gloomily. Maia laughed, knowing exactly
what he was thinking. “I’ll take you shopping,” she promised.
“And look on the bright side-you get to see Zanna dressed to the
nines. I bet she cleans up spectacularly.”
Jeremy said, “She always looks great. In anything.” He thought,
and even better in nothing, but didn’t say it aloud.

Jeremy felt absurdly nervous about calling Zanna. He couldn’t
remember the last time he’d asked someone out. He couldn’t
remember if he’d ever asked a woman for a date. He didn’t know


264


what to say. Then it occurred to him that he didn’t have her
Minnesota phone number, and he swore.
He supposed he could get it from Sarah, but on further thought,
he decided it might be better to email her instead.
He plugged the modem in, and turned on his laptop. Connected
to the Internet, and opened up email. Clicked on Zanna’s address.
And sat staring at the screen for ten minutes.
Fuck, this is ridiculous, he thought. He typed: Dear Zanna,
Then he thought that it looked too formal, so he put just Zanna.
But that seemed too abrupt, so he started over.
Dear Z
Okay, that was sort of middle ground. He stared at it for a while.
Want to go to
No.
I was wondering
No.
Would you-

Fuck, this is hopeless, he thought. Screw it. He was going to have
to call her after all, or forget about it. Frustrated, he typed, knowing
he’d never send it-

Zanna, my love, I’m sitting here trying to figure out how the fuck
to ask you for a date. I can’t think of how to put it, what to say,
which is funny, huh, when you think that I’m supposed to be a
writer.
So can you see us doing anything as normal as going on a date?
Maybe we should try a movie or something first, as a warm up.
Maybe a fancy schmancy party is too big a first step. I don’t know,
what do you think?
You know what, I get dizzy thinking about being by your side at a
party. Together. Looking like we’re supposed to be together, like
we’re there on purpose, not like you happened to stand by me for a
minute, or more likely, as if I was following you around like I
usually do, in my stupidly devoted puppy dog mode, and you hadn’t
noticed me yet, and disappeared like you usually do.
Yeah, do you know, I fucking love the idea of you voluntarily
being with me for an evening. I’m sitting here, picturing it, although


265


I just realized I’m picturing you the way you look on tour, in those
little outfits with your long black legs and kick ass boots. I guess
you might look a little different for Maia’s party. Maybe not, you
make your own rules, I love that about you.
I love everything about you.
Okay, I lied, not everything. I don’t love it when you won’t eat,
that bugs the shit out of me, in fact. And I could do without the way
all those other guys follow you around, Nick fucking Tzezna was bad
enough, but I cannot fucking believe you let Adam Leskar anywhere
near you christ I’d like to murder him for the way he looks at you.
Okay, I’m sounding like a jealous asshole again, huh? And god
knows, if I tried to tell you this, you’d close up and shut down and
run away again, because you don’t want to know. Why is that ,
Zanna? I mean, I know why you’d have some doubts about me, I
know I don’t look like a great deal for a woman like you, but why is
it you don’t let anyone in? Maybe you do, maybe Matt, I don’t
know.
Oh, my lovely Zanna. I want you, every minute of every day. I
miss you. And I can’t even figure out how to ask you to a party.
I am such a fucking loser sometimes.

He groaned and shoved the chair back from the desk. Daniel came
in then, saying, “Hey, is Arik around?”
“Don’t know,” said Jeremy. “ What are you doing here? Were
we supposed to have a practice, or something?”
“Naw. We were just going to go over the intro to Hurricane.
And maybe work on that broken glass song of Z’s.” He added,
giving Jeremy a speculative look, “It needs two guitars, really.”
“What do you want me to do about it?” snapped Jeremy. “Pick
up a guitar for one song? Maybe someone else could sing it.” He
started rapidly closing out the windows on the computer screen, and
turned the machine off. “Talk to Zanna, she’s the one who wrote
it.”
Daniel said, “That’s what I was thinking.”
Jeremy glanced at him, startled out of his preoccupation.
“What?”
“Well, as long as Jump Cut’s on the same tour. Why couldn’t
she play a couple of songs with us? Couldn’t you ask her?”


266


Jeremy laughed, shortly. “I can’t even ask her for a goddamn
date. You want to play with Zanna Martin, you talk to her.”
Daniel was silent for a moment. Then he said sympathetically,
“How come?”
“Huh?”
“Why can’t you ask her for a date?”
Jeremy said in frustration, “Because I can’t think how to say it.
Because anything I write looks wrong. Because I don’t have her
phone number, and she doesn’t like phones anyway. Because-”
“So go see her,” suggested Daniel. “It’s not like Minnesota’s the
end of the earth. Just go.”

Zanna was up, but just barely, when her buzzer sounded to signal
someone was at the door.
She glanced at the clock. Seven oh eight. Who the hell showed
up that early? Both the button that released the door latch, and the
intercom were broken (her condo was in an old Victorian mansion
that had tons of charm but was shaky on maintenance) so she
wrapped her robe more securely around her and ran barefoot down
the stairs.
There was someone at the door, a man. He turned around, and
through the glass she recognized Jeremy.
Jeremy?
He was shivering as she opened the door and stared at him in
disbelief. He looked at her uncertainly and said, “Hi.”
“Hi,” she said back. She was too stunned to think of anything
else.
He said, “Could I come in for a minute? It’s really cold out
here.”
She said automatically, “It’s only 25 degrees, that’s not cold,” as
she moved back.
“You Northerners are sickos,” Jeremy told her, thankfully
stepping into the warm hallway. Before she could say anything, he
said “Okay, I know this probably seems kind of strange, me being
here, but I didn’t have your phone number, and I couldn’t think what
to write, so…” His voice trailed off.
She said, “It’s okay.”
Jeremy looked at her, wrapped in what looked like a man’s


267


bathrobe in navy foulard satin lined with red terry, with tousled hair
and bare feet, gazing at him uncomprehendingly. He said abruptly,
“Would you go to Maia’s party with me?”
She wrinkled her nose, looking a little puzzled. “Okay.”
He said, wanting to make sure she understood, “I mean, as my
date.”
“All right.” She still looked puzzled. She ran her hand through
her hair, and asked, “You want some coffee?”
“That would be nice,” said Jeremy politely. Zanna led the way
up the stairs to her apartment.
He didn’t know what he had expected her place to look like, but
as he walked in he felt as if he was being enveloped in light and
color. There were many tall windows with sheer white tab curtains
suspended from wrought iron rods. The walls were painted a
myriad of different colors and textures. The hall was a stormy
cobalt blue, with white woodwork, black and white matted
photographs in silver frames, and some vintage travel posters.
Zanna led the way through to the living room, which had walls in
marigold colors, big, vibrant oil paintings in gilt frames, and a
carousel horse on a brass pole. She went through a formal dining
room done in terra cotta and into the kitchen.
Zanna got out the Kona coffee from the freezer, and ground
beans and poured water into the coffee maker. With it dripping
promisingly, she took out two mugs. One had a picture of
mountains on the side and said Coffee Manoa. The other had a
picture of a dog and said GSDs Rule.
Jeremy sat down at the counter. The kitchen was a big room with
a U shaped work core done in white cabinets, and granite counters.
The rest of the room looked more like a study. Exposed brick, lots
of bookshelves, cushy chairs upholstered in faded chintz drawn up
to the wooden table, and a big wooden armoire open to reveal a
computer work station.
Her place. Jeremy liked it. He liked being in it.
She put a mug in front of him, remembering he took it black.
After topping off her own with creamer, she came around the
counter and took the other bar stool.
They sipped coffee in silence for a moment. Then Zanna said,
“You came all this way to ask me to a party?”


268


Well, he couldn’t very well claim he just happened to be in the
neighborhood.
“Yeah,” he said.
She drank more coffee. “That’s pretty weird, Jeremy, even for
you.” She was starting to smile.
“Yeah, I guess.” He grinned sheepishly, slanting a sideways look
at her. He had a feeling of unreality, from having been up all night,
leaving the warmth of LA to land in this frozen northern city, sitting
here with Zanna in domestic coziness in her condo. He said, “It was
kind of an impulse thing.”
She shook her head, still smiling. “Well, since you’re here,” she
said. “You want some breakfast?”
“Sure. Great.”
She got up and went around the counter, poured them both more
coffee, and looked in the refrigerator. She said, “I think we’ll have
to go out.”
Jeremy nodded, and drank his coffee, his dark eyes watching over
the rim of the mug. He was wondering what her bedroom looked
like.
Aloud, he said, “I like your apartment.”
“Thanks.”
“It’s kind of nice to-” he paused, framing the thought. “See you
in context, I guess.”
She replied, “Well, if you ever get a place, you can have me over
and return the favor!”
He looked around thoughtfully. “I don’t think my abodes ever
have this much character.” He grinned. “But Arik’s threatening to
evict me if I don’t find something by spring, so I guess we’ll see.”
“Why don’t you have your own place? It does seem kind of
strange.”
Jeremy shrugged. “Because I’m lazy? Because it doesn’t seem
to matter to anyone except my accountant? Maybe because we’ve
been traveling a lot for the past few months, off and on since
‘Hurricane’ came out.” He went on, “Over the summer I was pretty
much living with Jaime when I was in LA. When we started
practicing in earnest for the fall tour, I moved into Arik’s, for
convenience. That was right before I met you,” he added.
“That would drive me crazy,” she said. “I love being able to


269


come back to my own place now, after so many years of being sort
of shiftless.”
“Why was that? That you were shiftless, I mean.”
“Oh – college, grad school, marriage, changing jobs, that sort of
thing. It meant a lot of moving around. Now I like to feel that I
always have some place to go to ground.” She added, “It’s one of
the reasons that I couldn’t handle marriage, and why I won’t live
with anyone. I kept wanting to go home – and feeling like I didn’t
have one.” She slid off her seat and said, “I’m going to get dressed.
Make yourself at home.”
He wandered around her apartment, admiring how she had indeed
put together a comfortable and distinctive nest for herself. The
floors and elaborate Victorian woodwork were a warm, deep honey
color. The dining room’s curved buffet was topped with a smoky
old mirror, and the bay window must be where she said she was
watching the sunrise, in her email, he thought. The living room had
a marble fireplace. The carousel horse on its brass pole inhabited
one corner. He was painted in shiny black enamel with gilded
horseshoes, his mane fancifully picked out in red and deep purple.
He had enough dings to look antique. Jeremy patted his nose as he
looked at the pictures behind the horse. Black and white
photographs, most likely her family, since several of the subjects
looked vaguely like Zanna.
He sat down on the couch, which had deep cushions upholstered
in midnight blue velvet trimmed with gold satin cord and tassels. It
was extremely comfortable. He leaned back and closed his eyes for
a moment.
Zanna, coming back shortly afterward, was treated to the unlikely
sight of Jeremy Kane, notorious frontman for the controversial rock
group Sex Gun, conked out on her sofa fast asleep. She smiled to
herself, as she covered him up with a chenille throw. He did tend to
do things the hard way, she mused.


270









Chapter 29



Jeremy awoke about an hour later, thoroughly disoriented. He sat
up and rubbed his eyes, and discovered Zanna curled in the armchair
opposite, glancing up from her book and smiling at him.
“Hey, sleeping beauty,” she said cheerfully. “Feeling better?”
“Yeah, I think.” He looked around, remembered where he was.
“Sorry for passing out on you,” he said.
“Not a problem,” she replied. “You hungry?”
“Kind of.” He asked, “Can I take a shower first?”
“Of course.” She uncoiled from her chair, and said, “Right this
way.” Jeremy stood, stretched, and followed her upstairs to an attic
bedroom. It was big and airy, painted a soft saltwater green, with
thick silvery carpet underneath. Jeremy gave the queen size
wrought iron bed a wistful look, but Zanna was briskly handing him
towels and saying, “Through there. There’s a new toothbrush in the
top drawer that you can have, it’s the wimpy kind the dentist always
hands out.”
The bathroom, taking up space under the eaves, was full of
curious angles, but it had an old-fashioned claw foot tub and a
separate, large and very modern tiled shower. Jeremy opted for the
latter, although the bathtub looked easily big enough for two people
and spurred some erotic visions. He told himself to stop thinking
about it, but it was difficult. He realized he’d never been with her in
a personal and private setting. Hotel rooms, even expensive ones,
all had a slightly institutional air, and Arik’s was like Grand Central,
there were so many people coming and going. Maybe it was time to
get serious about buying a house.



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Zanna took him to a place just down the street from where she lived,
called, oddly enough, Café Z. The waitress, who had clear pale skin
and burgundy hair, seemed to know Zanna, and gave Jeremy a
speculative look. He wondered if Zanna came here with other men.
They split eggs benedict, New York style (smoked salmon and
dilled hollandaise), a huge carmel roll (“I think these things have
like a pound of butter in them,” she told him, “but they’re really
good”) and a fresh fruit cup. Jeremy was getting to like this meal
sharing thing; it made him feel like he had some kind of standing in
her life, and anyway you got to try more things this way. Jeremy
told her more about the European tour, and Zanna seemed a little
envious. “I wish we’d done that leg, instead of the east coast!” she
told him.
“Me, too,” he answered. “We got stuck with some Scottish band
– we couldn’t understand a word they said, their accents were so
thick.” Zanna laughed. “How’d they sound?” she asked.
“Not bad. Need some polish. Not as good as your band,” he
said.
“So, when are you going back?”
“To Europe? Next summer, for the big festival gigs,” he replied.
She grinned. “Actually, I meant back to LA,” she said.
“Oh. Well, after this, I guess.” Jeremy looked a little
uncomfortable. He really wanted to stay longer, and knew it was
probably impossible. To break the silence, he said, “This was kind
of unplanned. Daniel said, go ask her in person, and he gave me a
ride to the airport. I didn’t exactly think it out.”
She tore off a piece of the carmel roll, and said curiously, “Why
was it so hard for you to ask me to the party?”
“Christ, I don’t know, Z! I guess I haven’t had much practice.
Maybe I was afraid you’d say no.” He looked at her across the
table. “Sometimes you reduce me to feeling about fifteen again, and
my social skills regress severely. I don’t know why that is.”
She looked amused. “Well, sometimes you paralyze me. That’s
partly why I never called you. I just couldn’t.” She added, “Remind
me to give you my phone number before you go, though. It’s a little
more convenient than hopping a plane every time you need to say
something to me.”
“I just love a smart ass girl,” said Jeremy. “Anyway, I think


272


Maia’s do will be fun, since we can go together.” He remembered
something. “Oh yeah, I’m supposed to ask you if you’ll play with
us.”
“What?”
“You know, with Sex Gun. We’re supposed to be part of the
entertainment. We’ll do our Take Two songs, and some other oldies
covers. There’s going to be a band to back some of the other singers
on their tracks, but we thought maybe you’d rather have us for
‘Downtown.’ Then we got to thinking about it, and figured it would
be cool if you just joined us for the set. It’s not like we’re doing Sex
Gun stuff, and this way you and I can trade off on guitar and
vocals.”
“Me, play with Sex Gun.” She seemed slightly incredulous.
“Yeah, why not? Not like you haven’t done it before.” Jeremy
ate the last of the carmel roll, and drank some coffee.
“That was different. It wasn’t like you gave me any choice at
Oceans, and at Philly I had my own band. And the other times, it
was just screwing around.”
Jeremy looked surprised. “You don’t want to do it?”
“It’s not that, it’s…I mean, I’m not really-you know.”
“Well, no. Actually, Zanna, I have no idea what you’re talking
about.”
She tried to explain. “I’m not really a musician, I pretty much
just copy what someone shows me. You guys are the real thing, I
mean, you’re total professionals. I’m this half-baked amateur who’s
mostly faking it.”
Jeremy threw back his head and laughed. The waitress, passing
by their table, smiled at him. He grinned back at her, and said, “She
doesn’t know how good she is, can you believe it?” Looking at
Zanna, he told her “Z, you’re good enough for us on your worst day,
okay? So we’ll show you the guitar part for ‘Hard Days Night’ and
some other songs. No big deal. And in case you hadn’t noticed,
your band’s had two songs high on the charts, and you’re
performing in front of big crowds, who love your every move. I
think your amateur days are a thing of the past.”
“I don’t know…when would we practice?” she asked.
“We’ll fit it in. If nothing else, come a few days before the show,
and we’ll do it then. It’s not a big deal, we’ll do maybe half a dozen


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songs.” He added with a touch of cunning “We could go surfing,
too. Get you some practice before Australia.”
She said, “Will we have time for it, on the Big Day Out tour?”
“Oh yeah.” Jeremy grinned. “It’s as much a vacation as it is
work. Oz is great.”
Zanna thought it over. The idea of playing with Sex Gun was
scary. It was one thing to be onstage with her guys, but appearing at
a celebrity soaked shindig with one of the biggest acts in alternative
rock was another matter entirely. On the other hand, it was way up
there in the category of once-in-a-lifetime opportunities, and it
seemed churlish to turn it down. She looked up at Jeremy, who was
now giving her an enigmatic look.
“Do you want me to do this?” she asked him unexpectedly.
He said seriously “Yeah, Z, I do.”
“Well, all right then. I guess I’m in,” she told him.
He leaned across the table and kissed her cheek. “Thank you,” he
said. She replied, “I hope you don’t regret it. Honestly, I pretty
much suck as a guitar player-” and Jeremy said “According to
Daniel, not as much as I do.” She looked startled, and he said with a
laugh, “Seriously. He’d for sure rather have you than me, on
guitar,” and Zanna said “Wow.” Then she said “I’ve wanted to ask
you something for a long time.”
“Go ahead. Anything.”
“No matter what Daniel thinks, you do play well. I mean, I’ve
heard you on studio tracks, and when we play, and that time you
backed Maia. You’re good. Why don’t you play live with Sex
Gun?”
Jeremy said, “Because I can’t do more than two things at once, at
least not onstage.” Seeing her puzzled look, he grinned at her and
said, “It’s simple. I can play, and play well, but I can’t do it and
sing, and move, at the same time. So if I play, we look really
fucking boring as a live act.”
“Oh.” She thought about this, and could see what he meant. Part
of what made Sex Gun’s concerts so riveting was watching Jeremy.
And in comparison with some of the bands whose frontmen did both
guitar and vocals, it was true; they were not as interesting to watch.
“On the other hand,” continued Jeremy, “you’re much more
dynamic when you play. That stuff you and Matt do is wild. No


274


one can believe the coordination the two of you have, to pull that
off.”
She said absently, “We’ve been dance partners for years, it
helps.” Jeremy liked this explanation better than the one that had
already occurred to him.

She gave him a ride back to the airport a little later. She almost
wanted to suggest he stay for a few days, but suppressed this
reckless inclination. Still, she had to admit, it had been…well, nice,
seeing him again. She was actually glad that she’d be out in LA
pretty soon, and after that there was the Down Under tour…
For his part, Jeremy was content with what had been achieved.
He had his date for the party, and she was going to play with them.
First things first, he thought, and he had even set the stage for Daniel
to talk her into his Big Day Out plan.
They pulled up at the curbside unloading area for departures, and
Jeremy leaned across and kissed her lightly, but on the mouth this
time. He said, “Let us know when you can come, okay? See you
soon,” and got out of the car. He turned towards the terminal, not
inclined to linger in what he persisted in regarding as frigid polar air,
when Zanna called out “Hey!”
He looked back. She was standing out of the car, looking across
the roof at him. She said, “By the way, I have never thought of you
as a fucking loser,” and as he stared at her in dawning and horrified
comprehension, she gave him a very cheeky smile and got back in
her car and drove off.
Jeremy, looking after her, had to laugh. That fucking email. The
joke was definitely on him.


Soundline Review
New Releases: Take Two, Various Artists, compilation for the
benefit of Animal Relief Foundation.

This compilation of unlikely oldies covers by an interesting
assortment of artists has more going for it than you might think.
By now, everyone must have heard the pre-release single, Sex
Gun’s darkly sensual rendition of ‘ This Magic Moment” but it’s
far from being the only reason to buy this CD. Apart from the
fact that these are interesting takes on some genuinely good


275


songs, just consider the faintly incestuous nature of the
contributors. You don’t even need six degrees to tie most of
them together.
For starters, Maia Stadick, who does a bouncy version of the
Rascals’ Good Lovin’, and who was also one of the motivating
forces behind the album, is a former girlfriend of Jeremy Kane,
lead singer for Sex Gun. Bass player Arik Jones had a long term
relationship with Kara Lewis, whose contribution is a remake of
Dusty Springfield’s ‘Son of a Preacher Man.’ Zanna Martin of
Jump Cut (‘Downtown’ and ‘Walk a Million Miles’) is Kane’s
current obsession. Nick Tzezna of Technical Difficulties
(‘Summer Rain’) is Martin’s frequent escort. Kelly Ross of
Slouching towards Bliss (‘Take a Giant Step’) would like to be.
Adam Leskar of Killer App – well, who knows exactly what Adam
wants to do with her, let’s just leave it at that. Mick Crandall,
who does ‘It Ain’t Me, Babe’ once played in a band with Killer
App’s Tong. And so it goes.
Organizer Sarah Keeler admits that the complicated
interrelationships have something to do with the selection of
artists. “Maia asked Jeremy, who introduced us to Zanna, who
brought in Nick – you get the idea. Sometimes you realize that
the world of alternative rock music just isn’t that big.”
But the songs make this more than just a curiosity piece. The
artists have all managed to give us versions that are true to their
own styles, without butchering the material. Take Killer App’s
ironic ‘Do You Believe in Magic?” Adam Leskar sings it as if he’s
reminding himself to quit looking for anything in a young girl’s
heart or other parts of her anatomy. Bliss backs ‘Take a Giant
Step’ with their usual reverb guitar hooks, but Kelly Ross’ throaty
vocals add a charge that the Monkees missed with the original.
And Tech Diff’s combination of punk undertones and pop overlay
works as well with Johnny Rivers’ song as it did for them on
‘Gone.’
Jump Cut gives both their vocalists an outing, with Matt
Wilder’s raw edged voice adding both angst and sex appeal to
what was once a fairly bland Grass Roots hit, ‘Walk a Million
Miles.’ And Zanna Martin shows what she’s capable of achieving
with ‘Downtown.’ While Jump Cut’s previous cover hit, ‘Taste the
Pain’, was a catchy number that showed off her sensuality,
‘Downtown’ proves that Martin can really sing. Her voice
alternately sails and whispers, and while Petula Clark’s downtown
sounded like a nice place for shopping, Zanna’s is alive with hot
energy, a place of pulsating life that like the singer herself, feels


276


both beautiful and a little dangerous.
Martin, who also co-produced (with Tom Scott) Sex Gun’s
cover of ‘This Magic Moment,’ has a genius for bringing that hint
of the dark side to previously innocuous pop songs. This is a girl
who goes downtown looking for trouble or, at least, not afraid to
find it. Under her direction, ‘Magic Moment’ is no longer a sweet
song about a kiss. With Jeremy Kane doing the honors, it takes
on an erotic edge that lets you know that kiss was just so much
foreplay. Sex Gun’s characteristic strong rhythm section and the
same spooky guitar riffs most recently heard on the ‘After the
Hurricane” single work well here, and Kane, who could probably
have the Alphabet Song sounding like it’s about sex, makes the
most of his material.
Buy it for the good cause. Buy it to sing along with in your
car. Buy it to console yourself, when it’s Friday night and you’re
at home alone. But buy it soon: it’s a limited edition, and it’s
going to go fast.



277









Chapter 30



Entertainment Now
Fashion Frenzy
…Let's face it, most female rockers have all the fashion sense
of gerbils on acid (would someone please tell Courtney Love to
quit with the décolletage, and what's with Sheryl Crow's pants)
but Zanna Martin of Jump Cut is the happy exception to the rule.
Shown here with Nick Tzezna (click here for picture) at the
opening of the Rock Art exhibit at Metzger Galleries, she shows
that's possible to sing down and dirty without having to look that
way.

To: Zanna
From: Arik
Re: your California trip

Hey, Z, Jeremy says you're gonna play with us - that's
great! We're all really looking forward to it. Don't know if
you've made arrangements, but I wanted to tell you that if
you'd like to stay at my place, you're very welcome. Jill says if
for some reason you don't want to, she would love to have
you, also. And let us know what flight you're taking, and
someone will meet you.

To: Arik
From: Zanna
Re: take two trip



278


Arik, thanks, I think it probably would be easiest if I stayed
at your house, for one thing, I'm going to need a lot of
rehearsing, and it seems like some of you are usually around
there. So I accept your invite with pleasure and gratitude.

Zanna was both excited and nervous about the trip to LA. She was
sufficiently nonsocial that a date for a big function was a little scary
anyway, and it was both better and worse that it was with Jeremy.
And playing with Sex Gun! How wild was that. She had been so
freaked out at Oceans that she barely remembered singing ‘If I
Could’ with them…one way or another, this promised to be quite an
event.
She put some thought into the critical issue of What to Wear. A
look through some magazines revealed most women at benefits
wore designer numbers - lots of satin and beads. But you’d look
stupid playing guitar in those evening gowns, she thought.
Then there was the whole Jeremy thing to worry about, especially
since they were both staying at Arik’s. Would he think that meant-?
Did she? Did she want to? And if they did, where did that leave
them? She was pretty sure by now that with Jeremy, it was bound to
lead somewhere. He didn’t seem geared for one night stands,
somehow.
And the alternative seemed fraught with complications. It would
have been bad enough with them both in bands. But with Jump Cut
splitting up…long distance relationships sucked, she thought…oh,
what was she thinking?! She was hopeless at relationships, period!
And Jeremy was still Jeremy, as problematic as ever.
It all kept going around in her head, right up to the time of her
departure for LA, when she decided there was no point, and
whatever happened, happened. Let the fates decide…
She checked in at the counter, and asked the agent if she could
take her guitar case on the plane as a carry on. She’d sent her Big
Day Out luggage on to Hawaii already, and had only a small case,
black leather daypack, and the guitar for this flight.
The agent said, “You don’t need to check any of it, first class
isn’t that full.”
Zanna said, “Oh, but my ticket’s coach,” and the agent consulted
her screen. “No, you were upgraded.”


279


Zanna wondered if Jeremy or Arik was responsible for that, but
she wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth if it meant she
didn’t have to wait at the baggage claim - and first class almost
never had crying children in it, either.
Disembarking at the unfortunately named LAX airport, she was
looking vaguely for someone in a chauffeur’s uniform with a sign
saying MARTIN, since that tended to be how they did things here,
when she heard “Zanna! Hey!” and sweeping the arrival area, her
eyes found Jeremy headed her way, smiling in welcome. And she
was suddenly simply so glad to see him that it crowded out all of the
lurking anxiety.
He looked really different. He’d had a haircut for one thing. His
dark hair was now conservatively short, which suited his angular
face surprisingly well. More than that, though, he looked both
relaxed and happy. The tension that was usually characteristic of
him was missing. He took her guitar case with one hand, and pulled
her close with the other, and kissed her. She hugged him, quick and
hard, and still in the circle of his arm looked up at him. He was
laughing a little, his teeth very white in his tanned face. Looking at
him, close to her, warm, vital, real, she had a sudden realization.
“I missed you,” she said. He could hear the surprise in her voice.
He gave her another squeeze before letting her go.
“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” he told her.
On the way to Arik’s, Jeremy went over the proposed setlist.
“Magic Moment and Downtown, of course,” he said. “And A Hard
Day’s Night, Summer in the City….” He rattled off half a dozen
song titles.
Zanna said faintly, “That’s a lot to learn in a couple of days.”
Jeremy said serenely, “We can always tape cheat sheets to the
floor of the stage.”
She discovered that she needn’t have worried about any
awkwardness over staying at Arik’s - the ambience was hectic and
excited, not at all conducive to romantic byplay. Between the Take
Two gig and the upcoming tour, there were all kinds of preparations
in progress. Various members of the Sex Gun management team
were coming and going, including Tanner Holt, their tour manager,
and both Johnny and Daniel were spending most of their waking
(and some unconscious) hours at the house.


280


They had their first practice as soon as Zanna and Jeremy got
back. For the next four hours, they worked steadily, until Zanna’s
fingers hurt and her brain felt stuffed with lyrics and chords.
Jeremy called a halt, finally. “Let’s take a break, and do another
session this evening.”
“What time?” asked Zanna. She wanted to go down to the beach.
She noticed Daniel and Arik exchange a look, and Daniel said to
him “You owe me.” He added cheerfully “Thanks, Zanna.”
“What?”
Johnny told her, “They had a bet, about you making us stick to a
schedule.”
Zanna said indignantly, “I only asked-“ but they were all grinning
at her, and she shook her head in mock disgust. “And here I thought
since you’re professionals of the highest caliber, you’d want to start
on time. Silly of me.”
Johnny remarked, “Notice how she throws in a gratuitous
compliment so you can’t contradict her. Very slick,” and Zanna
whacked him over the head with the guitar tab sheet for Hard Day’s
Night.
Jeremy seemed to have read her mind. “Surf’s low now, but we
could go out tomorrow morning,” he said. She flashed him a smile.
“That’d be great! But I’d still like to get a swim in now.” A thought
struck her. “Oh drat! I don’t have a wetsuit here, or Kaoru’s board,
for that matter.”
More nonverbal communication amongst Sex Gun. “What?”
asked Zanna, again.
“Go look in your closet,” Jeremy told her.
Puzzled, Zanna went back upstairs to her assigned bedroom. She
opened the closet, where she had hastily stashed her dress earlier,
and looked inside to find further down the rail, two wetsuits, one
short and one long, both in her size. She turned to find Jeremy
leaning in the doorway. She gave him a questioning look, and he
said, “There’s more,” and led her out to the garage. From the back
wall he picked up a surfboard and set it in front of her.
“For you,” he said.
She looked at it in wonder, and ran her hand along the smooth
surface. The board was custom made, and beautifully crafted. It
had been designed for a lightweight person, and as she lifted it, she


281


marveled at the balance.
She turned and looked at Jeremy, who was watching her with an
odd expression. Anticipation and - what? Apprehension. She
suddenly remembered the whole bus thing and understood. She was
immeasurably touched by the trouble he’d taken. This board wasn’t
anything you could buy off the rack, he must have ordered it some
time ago.
She said, “It’s - oh god, Jeremy, it’s just wonderful!” His face
broke into a smile of relief, as she carefully leaned the board against
the wall, and turned to him. She leaned over to kiss his cheek.
“Thank you. Thank you so much.” He turned his head, and his
mouth met hers, as his arms pulled her closer.
And then the others were there, Johnny saying, “So, you like it?”
and Arik grinning at her and saying, “Going to try it out tomorrow?”
and she stepped back, laughing and said, “I can’t wait.”
Jeremy said he’d take her down to the beach.
“If you want to be alone, we can meet at the coffee bar later,” he
told her.
“That’ll work,” Zanna said. “If you’ve got stuff to do. But I
don’t, particularly. Want to be alone, I mean. Well, I’m fine with it,
but I don’t need-“ she stopped, getting muddled. Jeremy was
grinning.
“Good,” he said. “I’ll keep you company, then.”
“Great,” she said, and meant it.
They drove down not far from her old haunts by Tom’s guest
house, parked, and walked along the beach a ways. Zanna decided
to go in for a swim, Jeremy electing to stay on the shore. Even
though it had been a warm winter so far, the chill level of the Pacific
was enough to keep him out except for surfing.
“Don’t stay in too long, it’s cold,” he told her. As was her
custom for exercise swimming, she was wearing a one piece racing
suit instead of a wetsuit.
It was cold, but it felt good all the same. Zanna swam beyond the
breakers, then turned parallel to the shore. She swam a couple
hundred yards, then turned back the other way, doing laps in open
water.
Jeremy sat down on the beach to wait for her. He had his
notebook, and he got it out now and started writing, occasionally


282


glancing at the water to check on Zanna. He wasn’t concerned
about her, really, she was a very strong swimmer and the water was
quiet.
It was so incredibly good to see her again, he mused. When he
had first caught sight of her at the airport, he had felt this lift, as
though his heart, or soul, or whatever it was that held your most
fundamental feelings, had wings. And she seemed different,
somehow. A little softer around the edges, maybe. Not quite as
prickly. He looked over some of what he’d written in the past few
months. She was in most of it, one way or another.
He remembered a comment someone had made a while back, that
Jeremy Kane appeared to have traded one addiction for another. It
had felt like that, at times, when he wanted her so desperately, it was
like a physical pain.
But now, it was different. It felt, oddly enough, like they were
moving full circle, and coming back to where they had been that
first night, caught up in the magic of getting to know each other. He
glanced out at the water, saw that she had started back in. And high
time, he thought, realizing in surprise they’d been there for some
thirty minutes. She swam with the waves, then stood up as it got
shallow, staggering a little in the foamy surf. He admired her
slender shape, and noticed with relief that she wasn’t skeletally thin
any more.
She came up to him, dripping and shaking herself off like a dog.
He rose and dropped a towel around her shoulders.
She clutched it, saying, “That felt wonderful!” She was
shivering, although she didn’t seem to notice. She went on “This is
the best thing about LA,” as Jeremy briskly rubbed her down. “You
got too cold, didn’t you?” he scolded her, and she said “You don’t
feel it while you’re swimming,” but her teeth were starting to
chatter. He stripped off his sweatshirt and made her put it on. They
went back to the house, and Jeremy towed Zanna into his room,
since it had a deep bathtub while hers had only a shower. He turned
the taps on, and said, “Get in and get warm, before hypothermia sets
in. I’ll bring you something hot to drink,” and went out.
He microwaved some chai he’d picked up in preparation for her
visit, and went back to his bathroom. The door was ajar; he
hesitated, then tapped on it. She said, “You can come in.”


283


She’d added bath salts to the water, and was lying submerged in
the foam, eyes closed. The shivering had subsided, he noticed with
some relief. “Here you go,” he said, holding out the mug. Her eyes
opened and she reached for it, her arm wet and dotted with bubbles.
Jeremy resolutely kept his eyes on her face, and, since she didn’t
seem to mind his being there, sat down on the floor next to the bath.
“How are you doing?” he asked.
“Fine, thanks.” She sipped the chai, and added, “Mmm, this is
good.” She smiled at him, knowing that it wasn’t something
normally found in Arik’s household.
He reached out and smoothed her damp hair, resting his hand for
a moment against her cheek. “You do worry me sometimes, you
know,” he told her.
“I don’t mean to,” she said truthfully.
“Yeah, I know. Miss Oblivious.”
She shrugged, and in spite of himself, Jeremy’s eyes wandered
down her bare shoulders. He felt a sharp tug of desire, and a
kaleidoscope of memories spun unbidden through his mind; her wet,
slick body against his in the shower, making out with her backstage
at Oceans, making love to her the night they met…he wanted to take
his clothes off and join her, feel her next to him, on him, under
him…
With an effort, he said, “Keep running more hot water in if you
have to, until you’re completely warmed up, okay?” and he got to
his feet and went out. Zanna, a little surprised at his abrupt
departure, drank her tea thoughtfully.
When she was dry and dressed, she went to the den, where Jeremy
was stretched on the couch, reading.
“Hey,” he said, looking up. “You hungry?”
“Starved,” she admitted. “Swimming always does it to me.” She
balanced on the arm of the couch, down by his bare feet, and
regarded him. The way he was holding the book, she had a perfect
view of the wave tattoos on the backs of his forearms. He hadn’t
bothered to replace the sweatshirt he’d given her at the beach, and
she had to suppress an urge to stretch out too, right on top of him.
Fortunately he sat up then, and said, “In, or out?”
“What?”
Patiently he said, “Dinner. Food. You want to eat here, or go


284


somewhere?”
“Oh! Anything’s fine with me. Whatever’s easiest.” She was a
little flustered.
He got up, uncoiling in a single easy movement, and said, “I’ll
make us something, then. Come keep me company.”
She followed him into the kitchen, asking, “You can cook?” She
sounded skeptical; one didn’t readily associate culinary skills with
Jeremy.
“Yes, I can cook,” he said, a little amused. “Chicken okay?”
“Sure.” She seated herself at the marble counter and watched
curiously as he assembled ingredients and set about competently
dicing shallots.
He said, “So, are you looking forward to Big Day Out?”
“Mmm, we all are. Tell me more about it.”
He took out a skillet, added olive oil to it. “It’s kind of like the
Australian Reading,” he said, referring to the big English rock
festival, “but with more shows, more locations, and better weather.”
“Well, I’ve never been to that one either,” she said with a laugh.
“Oh. Yeah, I guess you wouldn’t have. Well, okay. It’s like a
big, traveling rock carnival. There are several stages, and a dance
tent, and almost a whole, mobile town. Even backstage is like its
own little community. Canteen, press area, that sort of thing.” He
dredged chicken breasts in a mixture of flour and herbs, and put
them to sizzle in the skillet. He continued, “It’s summer camp for
rock bands, basically.”
“Sounds fun.”
“Yeah.” He looked up with a quick smile. “It will be.”
He flipped the chicken over, and made a salad of spinach, mango
and strawberries, with a balsamic vinaigrette. Who knew, thought
Zanna, impressed. He got out plates and silverware, and said, “Let’s
fix it here and eat out by the pool.” She nodded, still bemused by
this unsuspected domestic side of his. He asked her, “What do you
want to drink? Wine? Water, diet coke?”
“Water’s fine, thanks.” She certainly wasn’t going to dare
anything alcoholic, or she wouldn’t have bet a dime on her chances
of staying out of his bed.
It was a nice evening, softly warm, especially welcome to Zanna
after the chill of Minnesota. The dinner was excellent, and she said


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as much to Jeremy, who grinned. “You don’t have to sound so
surprised,” he told her.
She said, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to! It’s just that I wouldn’t have
thought cooking was your thing, somehow.”
He smiled lazily. “I’m full of hidden talents.”
“Really? Like what?” she asked.
He laughed. “Nothing very useful,” he admitted. “Dirt bike
racing and climbing rocks don’t have much everyday application.”
He added “It’s lucky I made it in music - I suspect I’m none too
employable, otherwise. Not like you, the multiple career girl.”
Not that it did her much good, thought Zanna, who still hadn’t
come to terms with Jump Cut’s impending demise. They’d agreed
that Big Day Out would be their swan song, except for perhaps a
final Twin Cities show, and Zan supposed she’d be going back to
the university. She looked down, playing with her fork. With the
exception of Nick, and Rachel of course, no one outside their
immediate circle knew yet. She felt an impulse to tell Jeremy now,
but this – this bond between them seemed too new, and fragile…
He reached across and his hand covered hers, stilling her
fidgeting. She looked up, and saw his expression was serious. He
said, in the carefully neutral tone that she was learning meant
something mattered to him, “Can I ask you something, Z?”
She nodded.
“Is that one of the things that bothers you about me?”
Zanna was confused. “That you’re into sort of hazardous
activities?”
“No, that-“ He hesitated. “That you’re very well educated, and
I’m a high school dropout. That you’ve had a grown-up career, and
I haven’t. That sort of thing.”
How absolutely weird, she thought, none of this had ever
occurred to her. But he was serious. She felt that odd little surge of
tenderness towards him, and she turned her hand over to hold his.
She told him “I can honestly say that none of that has ever been of
any concern to me, whatsoever.” She smiled warmly at him, and
said softly, “It does matter to me that you’re intelligent, and you
read, and you think. That’s what counts, not how many diplomas
you can line up on a wall.”
“Thanks.”


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Zanna laughed then, and he looked enquiring. “Oh, I was just
thinking how it’s funny,” she said, “that we all have our own
realities, and sometimes there’s this huge gap between them.”
“Yeah?”
“Like none of that ever occurred to me as being a potential issue
between us. But after I met you-“ she rolled her eyes, mocking
herself, “ I kept thinking why the hell would he be interested in
me?”
Jeremy said, “No one else found it at all surprising. Why would
you?”
“Because…well, I sort of hate to point it out, but you know, I’m
not exactly what you’re used to. I’m not young and beautiful, not a
glamorous actress or model or anything.”
He sat back, regarding her with a slight frown. Then he shook
his head. “You’re right,” he told her. “That’s a very, very major
gap.”
They heard sounds from inside the house then, a clash of
cymbals, and the low throb of Arik’s bass.
“Time to go to work,” remarked Jeremy.

Zanna woke up early, with a sense of anticipation. Stretching, she
remembered why…this was California, surf instead of snow. She
grabbed her watch off the nightstand. Late enough to get up, early
enough to beat the rush, she thought.
She slipped quickly into some clothes, and went out to the
kitchen. She made coffee, had a quick mugful, and poured another
one for Jeremy. She went to his room, knocked on the door, and
heard an indistinguishable sound. She chose to take it as “come in,”
and opened the door. He was in bed, not moving. She set the coffee
down, and shook him gently.
“Hey,” she said. “Time to get up, if we’re going surfing.”
Arik, awake and headed for the kitchen, was surprised by the open
door and glanced in. Then he grinned. Zanna was sitting cross-
legged on the bed; Jeremy was still an inert pile of covers. She
appeared to be coaxing him awake. They were definitely making
progress, he thought, if she was comfortable in that situation. Not
that Jeremy would be much threat to a woman first thing in the
morning; he moved way too slowly…


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Still smiling, Arik continued on to the kitchen, where he found
Johnny, drinking coffee and reading the paper.
“Did you spend the night here?” asked Arik. He’d lost track of
who was there when he went to bed.
“Naw. Just got here. Thought I’d go surfing with Jeremy and
Z,” the drummer said.
“You think they want company?” Arik poured himself some
coffee.
“Yeah, I think the band thing is working for them right now.
She’s used to hanging out with a bunch of guys, and she’s getting
used to us, too. Easier than being alone together too much,” said
Johnny shrewdly.
Arik sat down at the table, and said, “I like that about her. I
mean, she’s not like one of the guys, but then again she is, you know
what I mean?”
“Yeah. She’s easy to have around.” Johnny grinned. “But I
gotta say, from where I sit? when’s she’s playing with us, the view
is much better.”
Arik said in tones of mock insult, “You saying she has a better
ass than I do?”
“No doubt about it, sorry, bud.”
Zanna herself walked in then, trailed by a yawning Jeremy.
Remarkable, thought Arik, that had taken her only a matter of
minutes to accomplish. Jeremy collapsed in the chair next to Arik,
as Zanna refilled his mug and poured one for herself.
Johnny said, “Ready to christen that board?” She gave a radiant
smile, and replied “Am I ever.” She boosted herself up on the
counter, swinging her legs and saying “That’s been one of the
hardest things about being back in Minnesota. I miss the ocean like
crazy.”
Arik noticed Jeremy watching her contemplatively. Zanna and
Johnny were discussing where to go, and agreeing that they could
sandwich another surf jaunt in between band practices. Arik
wondered if the rest of Jump Cut would have a problem with
relocating on the West Coast. He had a feeling it wasn’t going to be
long before their lead singer had another reason, besides missing the
ocean, for needing to be there.


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Chapter 31



Jeremy had already observed something odd about Zanna: in purely
social situations, she was shy.
It struck him as pretty funny, because when it came to
performing, or interviews, or any kind of professionally related
activity, she was confident and outgoing, often displaying a kind of
breezy poise. Likewise, she was perfectly comfortable in chance
met encounters, whether with strangers or with people she knew.
Put her next to anyone, at the beach, in a coffee line, at the studio,
and she had no problem carrying on a conversation. She also didn’t
act any differently with the people who ran the corner grocery store
than she did with people who were famous, something Jeremy loved
about her.
But she tended to avoid what you might call structured social
interaction, and when she was in those situations, you always had
that sense that she was poised for flight. It made Jeremy feel quite
privileged to be escorting her to the Take Two event and also
somewhat protective of her. He was aware that she viewed making
an appearance as sort of an obligation to the animal cause, but he
really wanted her to have a good time. Jeremy himself, strangely
enough, rather enjoyed these kinds of charity bashes. Unlike many
who would be in attendance, his career didn’t depend on being nice
to the right people, or on generating free publicity – Sex Gun was
too well established to need to do that, and they had never really
bothered anyway. Since Jeremy didn't much care what others
thought of him personally, he didn’t feel obliged to talk to anyone
who bored him, and so he either had fun at parties, or left them
quickly. Of course, Take Two was a hybrid event for them, half


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party and half gig. He thought Zanna was probably looking forward
more to the latter. Their last practice had been stellar.

After paging despairingly through the pages of Entertainment Now,
Zanna had decided it was hopeless for her to attempt to emulate the
look of Hollywood glitterati. No way was she going to wear a dress
she might fall out of, or shoes she couldn’t walk in, and hairspray
made her sneeze. So she had finally gone to a funky little boutique
near where she lived, and the owner had made something up for her.
Zanna liked her outfit because it was comfortable and easy to
move in, and she thought she looked pretty good in it. But when she
walked into Arik’s living room, where everyone had congregated,
conversation ceased abruptly. She was, in fact, breathtaking. Her
black dress was highnecked, sleeveless, and had a zigzag hemline
which was slashed to the thigh in places and reached her ankle in
others. She paired it with black fishnets and a higher heeled, less
chunky version of her usual lace up boots. Her streaky gold hair fell
loosely past her shoulders, her eyes were made up to look dark and
smoky, and her mouth was a lush crimson.
She looked beautiful, and maybe a little dangerous. Uniquely
Zanna, thought Jeremy with an inward smile.
Daniel said “Wow” and Johnny gave a short whistle of
appreciation. Jill said, "Fabulous dress,” and Johnny’s date, a model
named Sharona, asked “Paris?” with a professionally assessing look.
Zanna laughed. “St. Paul,” she answered. “As in Minnesota.”
As they walked out to the limos, Jeremy said to her, “You are
completely stunning, Z.”
“Thank you,” she said demurely. “You’re rather beautiful
yourself.” It was true, she thought, although he looked somewhat
like a handsome stranger, what with the precision haircut, and being
uncharacteristically clad in charcoal Armani. Then he smiled at her,
the chipped tooth giving his grin that slightly lopsided quality, and
he looked the way he did when a song came right, or when they
were staggering out of the surf together, and she felt for the first
time that this party might even be fun.

The event was being held at a glossy and very trendy nightclub, and
it was packed. Maia greeted them effusively, her face alight with


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the success of her party.
She said to Zanna, “So what do you think? How do you like the
haircut?” nodding at Jeremy. Zanna laughed, and answered, “It’s
nice. But he always looks great,” and Maia rolled her eyes and said,
“You two obviously belong together.” Jeremy remarked “I’ve been
saying that for months, but no one pays attention to me,” and was
gratified when he caught Zanna’s eye and she smiled, a little shyly.
This was one occasion when she was actually grateful for
Jeremy’s space invading technique. He had always, since she first
met him, made a practice of standing or sitting closer to her than
was customarily acceptable. But he had been right on target in
judging her level of social comfort, and somehow she was finding
his nearness reassuring now. The light touch of his hand on her
back, the brush of his arm against hers, combined to make her feel
more at ease.
Jeremy himself was rather surprisingly sociable, she thought. He
seemed to know many of the guests. They circulated through the
party, Jeremy introducing Zanna to a lot of people (and frequently
murmuring entertaining, if possibly libelous, comments as they
moved on) who seemed thrilled to meet her. Zanna put this down to
kissy face Hollywood artifice, until Jeremy remarked, “Isn’t it funny
how many celebrities are also star struck rock music fans? I think
most movie stars secretly want to be in bands,” and Zanna laughed
and said, “And lots of music people want to be in the movies!”
“Grass is always greener, et cetera. Me, I think making videos is
bad enough. I’d never want Kaoru’s gig.”
“Speaking of, is he here?”
“Oh yeah. You’re not going to desert me for him, are you?”
“Not this time,” she said, slipping her hand into his.
Jeremy was thoroughly enjoying himself. He was not above
reveling in the normal male pride of being with a striking woman
who was drawing considerable attention, and for him, being
anywhere with Zanna was a treat to begin with. To know that she
was going to be leaving with him gave him a rare sense of security,
a luxury generally lacking in their relationship. And while she was
usually accepting of, and even occasionally responsive to, his
physical gestures of affection, she rarely initiated any. So feeling
her fingers curling around his gave him a warm little glow.


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There was some potential awkwardness when they encountered
Jaime Cage, Jeremy’s former girlfriend. She was dressed in pink
satin Valentino and wore staggeringly high stiletto heels that caused
her to clutch her date’s arm. He was a young television actor from a
popular series, and he seemed disposed to be friendly. Zanna eyed
Jaime warily and was glad to see she didn’t have a drink in her hand.
But Jaime was very much on her dignity, saying hello to them in
glacially polite tones, while her date told Zanna that he loved the
video for ‘Downtown.’ Then he seemed to realize, as Jaime looked
daggers at him, that this was the wrong thing to say, and hastily
recognized someone across the way who they simply had to say
hello to.
Jeremy was amused. “She’s learning,” he remarked. “She
picked a much more tractable one this time.”
Zanna was having a hard time imagining Jeremy with the young
model. What on earth had they talked about? She couldn’t picture
it at all, so she asked him.
“I don’t know, either,” he admitted. “I’m not sure we did talk.
To be honest, I don’t think I was aware that relationships with
women could include actual companionship, until I met you.” He
grinned at her. “Of course, Maia says I like being with you because
I get to do the same stuff I do with Arik, namely play music and
surf.”
Zanna laughed. “Nothing wrong with that,” she said.
“Although there are some major differences,” he continued, his
arm sliding around her waist. “I almost never do this with Arik,”
here he brushed his lips across her cheek, and licked her ear, “or
this,” as he kissed her. And Zanna knew a sudden insane desire to
ditch the party and find out what else he didn’t do with Arik.
Fortunately, since she had previously resolved that she should
stay out of that particular situation until she had a better grasp on
how much she was willing to commit to the relationship, Jeremy
kissed the tip of her nose and drew back, saying casually “I suppose
this isn’t really the time or place.” But she was unable to keep
herself from thinking, too bad, and she took herself sternly to task,
with a mental reminder that she’d better quit thinking about that.
Jeremy smiled at her as though he could read her thoughts, and
Zanna felt the heat rise in her cheeks. She hastily looked away, and


292


was glad to hear a familiar voice say “Hey, Zanna,” from behind
her. She turned to find Nick Tzezna and the lead player from Tech
Diff, Tim Danna, and greeted them in some relief. They both kissed
her lightly, and shook hands with Jeremy, who, Zanna noticed
gratefully, looked perfectly friendly.
“Are you playing tonight?” Tim asked her. “I haven’t seen the
rest of your band.”
“They couldn’t make it,” she said, and Jeremy added, “So she’s
playing with us.”
Tim started to laugh. “Sex Gun with a girl? Now there’s a
switch.”
Jeremy grinned. “But we’re so much more evolved now,” he
said. “Soundline said so. How about you? Are you guys part of the
line up?”
“We’re the acoustic interlude,” said Nick. “Since the rest of us
apparently got snowed in back in Toronto. We’re going to pretend
we’re on ‘Storytellers.’”
“Yeah? You actually got a story?”
“Not much of one,” admitted Nick. “Same as yours, I expect.”
He mimicked talking into a microphone. “We recorded this next
song, because Zanna Martin said hey, do this, it’s for a good cause.
And we can’t say no to Zanna, so we did it.”
Jeremy remarked affably, “At least Sex Gun got a video out of
it,” and Nick retorted, “Don’t remind me.”
Tim asked Jeremy about a mutual friend then, and Nick turned to
Zanna and said, “Hey, gorgeous. How are you doing, anyway?”
She said, “Tonight, wonderfully well, thanks!”
“I’m glad,” he told her. Softly he asked, “Made any plans yet?”
Her eyes telegraphed a warning, as she said casually “Not really.”
Nick shook his head, but he got the message. He said only “Call
me if you need to talk,” and she replied warmly, “I will, thanks.”
Then she noticed Jeremy giving them a considering look, and she
asked Nick hastily “So what are you playing tonight?” and the
conversation once again was four way, as they all compared notes
on the challenges of trying to make covers sound new without being
contrived.

Zanna had a moment of complete unreality as she stood with Sex


293


Gun just offstage. This was nothing like going on with Jump Cut –
they were her band, familiar and dear, the only people she’d ever
played with, prior to her acquaintance with Jeremy. They all felt
like coconspirators pulling something off. They still occasionally
got the giggles right before going on – they couldn’t believe that
people actually paid money to see them.
Sex Gun, on the other hand, exuded a confidence that might have
bordered on arrogance, had they not been so casual about it. This
was something they’d been doing for over fifteen years; they both
took it seriously, and knew they did it well.
Zanna had seen their pre-concert ritual on the east coast tour- just
before going on, they smacked their fists one against the other, in a
kind of chain reaction. And even though this was hardly your usual
Sex Gun outing, apparently old habits died hard. Arik said “Okay,
then,” and brought his hand down on Jeremy’s. Jeremy turned to
Daniel, next to him, and Daniel in turn hit his fist lightly against
Zanna’s, giving her his sweet smile. Zanna, a little bemused, but
getting with the program, smacked her fist down on Johnny’s. The
drummer quirked an eyebrow, grinned, and said “Rock on,” and
then the lights were down and they moved onstage.
Arik and Jeremy had told Maia, who was acting as emcee, to
dispense with an introduction, deciding that the unorthodox lineup
made it either awkward or unwieldy. “We’ll announce ourselves by
just playing,” Arik said. They had also decided to have Jeremy and
Zanna switch off on vocals and guitar. Zanna hadn't had much
practice singing without her guitar, and she hoped she wouldn’t
come across as stiff and boring, but thought next to Jeremy, she
probably would. They were opening with Hard Day’s Night though,
with Jeremy on lead vocals, so Zanna accepted her Strat from a crew
member and moved to her assigned microphone, near the front of
the stage. She and Jeremy had argued over this placement at the
brief rehearsal; she would have been happier more toward the back
where she could easily watch Daniel and Arik, but she was
overruled by the rest of the band.
“Like it or not, Z, people want to watch you, and we’re in the
entertainment business,” Johnny told her.
Daniel reminded her, “You don’t have to stay put. Move up front
for the vocals, but drop back if you want to for the breaks.”


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“I’m afraid I’m going to forget stuff,” Zanna admitted, a little
concerned. In practice, she most often took her cues from Daniel.
“Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on you,” said Daniel. “But you’ll
do fine.”
“Jeremy’s more likely to space out and miss his part,” remarked
Arik. Jeremy laughed and said, “At least this time I already know
she’s here.”
Johnny said sternly “Well, if you start making out onstage again,
I’m throwing a drumstick at you,” making Zanna blush. Jeremy said
cheerfully, “We can wait.” He had been in a sunny mood ever since
Zanna’s arrival. The rest of the band was used to the lead singer’s
usually moody temperament; this uncharacteristic lightheartedness
was unexpected but welcome. It had caused Arik to wonder a little
about what Jeremy might have been like had he grown up
differently, but Jeremy was who he was, whatever the reason. And
whether it was due to his being in love with Zanna, or some belated
maturity, whatever, he was undeniably easier to get along with these
days, and Arik hoped it lasted through the New Year.
Now, Arik looked over at Zanna, smiling at the way she slung the
strap of her Stratocaster over her shoulder, and tossed back her hair.
From Jeremy’s hot date to thoroughly professional rocker, in the
blink of an eye. He liked her cool, almost cocky stage persona – she
could hold her own with Sex Gun easily, he thought. She glanced
across at him, nodded her readiness, and Arik ran his eyes over the
rest of his band, then said in a low, rapid voice “onetwothreefour!”
and they were off and running.

When Zanna looked back on it later, much of the set would be a
blur. She didn’t forget any lyrics, or screw up anything that
mattered. She had a blast sharing vocals with Jeremy on ‘Summer
in the City’ and ‘Hard Days Night.’ When she sang lead, she
discovered it was no problem after all, to pick up the microphone
and cover the stage. It helped that she had friends in the audience –
she flirted her way through ‘Downtown,’ playing alternately to both
Nick and Kaoru. Jeremy gave her a little anxiety by sliding up
behind her during Magic Moment’s break, and briefly nuzzling her
neck as his hands moved over her hips, but she steadfastly
concentrated on the chords and pretty much ignored him, which


295


made him laugh, and which the audience seemed to find vastly
entertaining.
They had meant to finish with ‘Breathless’ but as it came to a
close, Maia came onstage and said into her emcee’s mike “I’ve got a
request for one more song.” She went on, “Let’s have ‘If I Could.’”
Jeremy looked surprised, then he said slowly, “Well, I guess this
Take Two thing is about getting a second chance…which is a good
thing, whether you’re a dog or a person, and it’s kind of what that
song is about, so-” He looked over at Zanna, and jerked his head.
She hesitated, and he said, still into the mike, “C’mon, Z, I’m not
doing it without you.” The crowd made an “oooh” noise, and he
grinned, and told them, “Hey, it’s our first date, after all.” Zanna,
trying to look calm but aware that the telltale color was once again
tinting her cheekbones (did Jeremy ever have any inhibitions?) as
she handed her guitar to a roadie, walked out to join him at center
stage.
Jeremy reached out and took her hand, interlacing his fingers in
hers, and they did the whole song that way; together, slow, sweet,
strong. At the end, they bowed to a standing ovation, still holding
hands, and Jeremy said to the audience, “Thank you – that’s it for
us,” and led Zanna off.
As they left the stage, Jeremy murmured, “In deference to
Johnny’s sensibilities,” and pulled her back into the wings, and into
his arms. Something about the adrenaline of performing, the
closeness he felt to her when they did that song, the chemistry
between them and the amount of time he’d waited was having a
powerful effect. He kissed her and the rest of the world ceased to
exist. She returned it and then some, warmly responsive, and he
held her and wanted to never let her go.
Daniel and Johnny, following them off the stage, exchanged a
look. “You think it’ll wear off eventually?” asked Daniel, as the
two singers remained locked in a passionate embrace, oblivious to
their surroundings.
“For their sake, I hope not,” said Johnny, adding “Although I
guess it could be something of an issue. I mean, we don’t want
Jeremy getting arrested for going back for an encore with a-”
“Knock it off, you two,” said Arik, from behind them. “She’s got
her own band, you know.” He moved around them, and putting a


296


hand on Jeremy’s shoulder, he said to them severely, “We just can’t
take you anywhere.” Zanna gave him a dazed look, and Jeremy said
only, “Go away.”
It was Adam Leskar who broke the mood however, drawling,
“Oh isn’t this sweet,” as he waited for Killer App, who were playing
next, to take the stage. Zanna said coolly, “Hello, Adam,” as she
slipped out of Jeremy’s grasp and moved away with Johnny and
Daniel. Jeremy turned to Adam and said conversationally, “Since
my date would probably be pissed if I wound up in jail tonight, I’m
going to let this opportunity pass – but if you make one more
disrespectful remark about her, I’ll kill you.” He went to join the
others, Zanna giving him a questioning look, but he just laughed and
tousled her hair.
Adam remarked plaintively to no one in particular, “When did I
ever?” and his drummer shrugged and said, “Jeremy always was a
bad tempered sonofabitch.”
Zanna was full of nervous exhilaration, a combination of
performance high, a measure of relief that it was over, and arousal
from the brief backstage interlude with Jeremy. She was also
realizing that she should have done a better job of sorting out her
feelings before now – she didn’t know how to handle this. She
didn’t even know what she was doing with her life, how was she
supposed to figure out what to do with him? She could practically
hear Matt saying “Talk to him, it’s his life, too,” but that would
mean making some very difficult disclosures…
Jeremy apparently sensed her turmoil. He drew her aside from
the others. “You okay, Z?”
She nodded. Her vocal cords seemed to be paralyzed. He was
looking down at her thoughtfully. He said, “Pretty good set, huh?”
She nodded again.
“I like performing with you,” he told her.
“Me, too,” she managed.
“You want to tell me why you’re kind of weirded out?” he asked.
Zanna made a little choking noise; she was not ready for this.
Jeremy said, “Okay, why don’t you nod if I’m getting warm. It
seems to me like things have been pretty good, with us, since you
got here.”
She nodded. He continued, “But just now, maybe it felt like I


297


was gonna take things a little further than you’re ready to go?”
She said, almost inaudibly, “Right.”
He smiled at her. “It’s okay,” he said. “Nothing has to happen
now. I can’t tell you how nice it’s been being able to spend some
time with you. I don’t want to screw it up by being too pushy. So
just let me know if I should back off, okay?”
Zanna was touched by this consideration, but she also felt that
Jeremy wasn’t perfectly understanding the problem. She really,
really wanted to make love with him. Every cell in her body was
ready to merge with his. She had already discovered, after the first
time with him, that breaking the celibacy habit was like opening
Pandora’s box – once you did it, there was no hope of cramming all
those feelings inside again.
Well. She could take the easy out he was giving her, or-
She sighed. “You probably aren’t going to believe this,” she told
him. “But I think we need to talk.”
Jeremy’s eyes were intent. She added, “But not now. Let’s just
enjoy the rest of the party, okay?”
“This is your call,” he said. “But I thought you had to leave
pretty early in the morning.”
“I do,” she said. She looked at his serious expression, warm with
concern, trying to understand for her sake, and she thought god, he
really does try, and what do I give him in return? Not much…oh, it
was all so confusing…
She said abruptly, “You want to dance?”

So they did, through the rest of Killer App’s set (which was really
good, thought Zanna, pity they were such delinquents) and through
Nick and Tim’s stint as an acoustic duo. Nick did an achingly
beautiful version of “Stand by Me” which reminded both of them of
the club in Pennsylvania. This time, though, they just danced.
Jeremy was very conscious of not seeming overly aggressive, and
Zanna didn’t want to start something she couldn’t finish. Then the
‘house’ band came on and Kaoru was taking Zanna by the hand and
saying, “Jeremy’s monopolized you enough. My turn.” Zanna
danced with him, with Nick, and with the other members of Sex
Gun. It was lighthearted fun, and Zanna enjoyed herself immensely.
And suddenly it was later (or earlier, depending on how you


298


looked at it) than she would have believed possible, and she knew a
kinship with Cinderella, who had a lot of awkward explaining to do
herself, and no time to deal with it.
She said as much to Jeremy, as they left the club. He laughed,
but held her hand tightly as he said, “If you leave me for a pumpkin,
Z, I’ll be seriously pissed at you.” She shook her head and said “No
pumpkin. Only United Airlines,” as they slid into the limo.
They were quiet initially on the ride back to Arik’s, although
Arik and Jill, with whom they shared the limo, were lively enough.
Zanna leaned against Jeremy, resting her head on his shoulder, only
half listening to the others talk about the party. It wasn’t until Arik
glanced her way and said to Jeremy, “So, did you ask her?” and
Jeremy replied, “Oh fuck, I completely forgot!” that she roused and
said, “Ask me what?”
“Well,” said Jeremy, seemingly unable to figure out where to
start. He looked at Arik. “Your turn,” he said. Arik said, “What do
you mean, my turn? You didn’t say anything, yet!” and Jeremy told
him, “You’re better at this stuff.” Arik said, “Well, christ, Jeremy,
she’s your date!” and Jeremy said, “What’s that got to do with it?”
Zanna listened to all this in amazement, and Jill, who was more used
to how Sex Gun interacted, rolled her eyes and said to Zanna, “They
want to ask you about Big Day Out.”
There was sudden silence. Zanna said, puzzled, “What about it?”
Jeremy and Arik once again exchanged you go, no you go,
noises, then finally Jeremy said, “We were wondering if you might
be willing to play a couple of numbers with Sex Gun.”
Zanna was dumbfounded. “What?”
Arik said hastily, “Not every time. I mean, we’re not expecting
you to play your set, and ours. Maybe, you know, just a few of the
shows. Just a handful of songs. Kind of like tonight. Daniel started
it,” he added.
“But why?” asked Zanna, totally not getting this.
“Because it would be fun,” Jeremy told her. “We could do some
of the new stuff, like Chemistry and Dark Angel, since we’ve been
practicing them anyway. And Daniel really wants to do a couple of
our older ones, that have double guitar parts, that we almost never
play live.”
Zanna said, “If you’re looking for a spare guitar player, you


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could do a lot better than me,” and Arik said, “Not really.” He
smiled at Zanna, and went on, “Sure, there are people with more
technical proficiency, but not many with your kind of feel for
music,” and Jeremy added dryly, “And even fewer who are willing
to put up with us.”
Zanna said, trying to keep a grasp on reality, “I don’t see how
we’d have any time to rehearse,” and Jeremy said, “You wouldn’t
need much for the new ones, we’ve all played those enough. The
others, we can fit in some practice early in the tour. We’ve got
some days off, and after tonight,” here he smiled, "we know you're a
quick study."
“This is all provided your band is okay with it,” said Arik. “We
don’t mean to seem like we’re horning in on their territory. It’s just
that since you’ve been collaborating with Jeremy anyway, and one
way or another playing with us quite a bit….” He smiled at her. “It
would be fun.”
“Besides,” said Jeremy. “We could do ‘Magic Moment.’” He
grinned at her, and Zanna, remembering, said, “What did you think
you were doing, I almost went completely blank-” and he laughed
and said, “Sorry, Z, couldn’t resist.”
“Well, you’d better stay the hell away from me, if you expect me
to keep my place-” She broke off as Arik and Jeremy exchanged
high fives.
“So you’ll do it?” asked Arik.
What am I getting into, thought Zanna, dizzily. She slanted a
sideways look at Jeremy, next to her. He had that very still,
watchful look, with a carefully noncommittal expression that
somehow told her that this was something he badly wanted. It
didn’t make any sense to her, at all.
And little did they know her musical career was about to come to
a grinding halt, anyway.
On the other hand – what a note to end on. Playing with the
headliners. Playing with flipping Sex Gun, for crying out loud, at a
huge festival. Sheesh. She knew Jump Cut would egg her on all the
way. They’d love it….what the hell.
“I’m in,” she said.


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Chapter 32



It was almost dawn when Jeremy and Zanna went down to the
beach. Once more changed into casual clothes, with Zanna wearing
one of his sweatshirts for warmth in the early morning chill, they
walked barefoot in the sand. Jeremy took her hand and it felt natural
and familiar to her now.
“Good morning for surfing,” she said wistfully, looking out at the
water. They had gone the last two mornings, and she had loved it.
Jeremy said, “Sometimes other things are more important.” As
they walked on, slowly in the deep sand, he reminded her “You
wanted to talk.”
“Not exactly ‘want,’” she said honestly. As usual, she was
having trouble finding words. It was amazing, she thought, that she
was so completely fluent in a courtroom or classroom, and so
stumbling and incoherent when it came to the personal.
Jeremy was trying to help. “About us?” he asked.
“Mmm.”
“Okay – maybe you could elaborate on that one, just a little?”
Zanna gave a tiny giggle at that, and Jeremy dropped her hand and
hugged her. He said, into her hair, “C’mon, Z, give me a clue here.”
She wound her arms around his waist, and said, “A lot of the time
I’m with you, I feel like you’re about five chapters further along
than I am.”
He thought about that. “Same book, though?” he asked.
“I guess so. But how do I know, I’m way behind.”
“Yeah, okay. I can see what you mean.” He did, too. While
he’d known almost instantly that she was what he wanted, she had
obviously struggled with the idea of being with him. “I’m sorry,” he


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added.
“You don’t need to be. That’s not what I meant. I just wanted
you to know…I mean, I know I seem really slow on the uptake
sometimes…”
“That’s okay,” he told her. “You’re entitled to take things at your
pace, you know.” He paused. “What else?”
She said, her voice hesitant, “When I met you, I didn’t realize
who you were.”
“Yeah, Kaoru said something like that.” He added dryly, “I
gather you weren’t too thrilled to find out?”
He felt her stiffen, and she pulled away from him. “I’m sorry!”
he said hastily. “I didn’t mean it like that.” He fell into step beside
her. “But you know, Zanna,” he said softly, “You actually did wake
up with the same man you went to bed with.”
“I hurt you, didn’t I? By leaving like that.”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
“I know. It’s okay. I’m getting over it,” he said.
Zanna absently slid her hand into his again, as she said, “I know
it sounds stupid. I mean, we do Sex Gun songs, and before we left
for the MTV thing, Andy had a party to celebrate our making the
cut. He had a bunch of those Behind the Music things looping on a
VCR, including yours. But I didn’t really watch it. I never paid
much attention to the people in the bands, you know? Just the
music. I mean, I probably couldn’t have picked Anthony Kiedis or
Flea out of a lineup either.” She gave a little chuckle, and added “At
least, not without the socks.” Jeremy laughed. “That would be
distinctive,” he agreed.
She continued, “And since that show was done, you’d cut your
hair, and you were wearing a shirt that night so the artwork didn’t
show, and you looked pretty different than you do in videos, or on
album covers. I just never put together a guy named Jeremy,
playing a guitar at a party, with Sex Gun’s notorious singer.”
“And when you did, you were horrified to discover you’d slept
with a junkie felon who has a terrible reputation with women?”
“Well, yes. But not quite in the way you probably thought.”
This was getting to the hard part. She said, “I mean, sure, it
occurred to me that you weren’t exactly a partner who qualified as


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safe sex, which was kind of worrisome-”
“Yeah, I’m sorry I didn’t think of that sooner-”
“And I vaguely knew you were involved with someone – they
made a big deal about it, in that video- and that made me feel
crummy-”
“We didn’t really get much chance to talk about those things.”
Jeremy looked at her, and said quietly, “Zanna, I knew about five
minutes after laying eyes on you, that I was going to do anything to
get to know you. That no one else I’d ever known mattered the way
you did.”
She said, “You’re so weird, Jeremy,” but she squeezed his hand
affectionately. “But beyond that, the problem wasn’t really you, it
was me.” She took a deep breath. “I don’t know, if Matt said
anything to you…” She gave him a questioning look.
Jeremy said, “He told me you had a problem with commitment.
That you’d been pretty much avoiding relationships, avoiding men.
He didn’t say why.”
She was having trouble getting the next part out, her tongue
actually felt thick and in the way of the words. But at this point, he
had to know. Because in fact, there was a very real basis for her
paranoia, for what Jeremy had once termed her commitment phobia.
She said baldly, “A few years ago, I was seriously involved with
someone. He killed himself.”
“Oh, christ, Zanna. God. I am so sorry.” Jeremy saw her bite
her lip, saw the same stark pain he had seen before.
She said, her voice not quite steady, “He was this brilliant,
talented man who seemed more alive than anyone I’d ever known.
But he was also manic-depressive. For a while, it wasn’t so bad –
he’d crash sometimes, but I could always bring him back. And then
things would be great again. But then it started getting worse, until
he was mostly down, and I was living under this dark cloud, always
wondering if it was a bad day, or a really bad day. By then I didn't
have a choice, because everyone was pretty clear that losing me
would crush him. And in the end, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t save
him.” Her voice broke, but she went on raggedly, “And of course,
neither could the therapist, the doctors, the meds. I’m not being
melodramatic, or blaming myself. I know it was the illness. But by
the time it was over, I’d lost this huge chunk of myself along the


303


way. In trying to save him, I did a real number on me. I turned into
this dreary, downtrodden person, somehow.” She thought it over.
“I turned into someone who wore baggy sweaters and ate a lot of
mashed potatoes,” she said. Jeremy smiled a little at that, but he
was beginning to understand why she’d kept running away from
him.
“Then, after about a year or so, I began hearing music again.
And then I started writing, and running, and I met Matt. He taught
me how to play guitar, and gave me the confidence to take my
scribbling and turn it into songs. He was the one who gave me the
nickname Zanna,” she remembered, with a little smile. “And
somehow, through all that, I became this new person- but, I still
couldn’t completely shake the past.”
“So when you met me, you took one look, that next morning, and
realized you’d seemingly picked another candidate ripe for self
destruction.”
“Yes. More or less.”
He stopped, and drew her around to face him. He asked gently,
“What about now, Zanna?”
“Now – I don’t know. I mean, around me, you’ve never seemed
like the guy everyone talks about. I’ve never seen you get high, or
hit on women, or anything like that. I guess I’ve seen the infamous
bad temper, but you’ve never been violent-”
“Well, Mike Corrigan was pretty lucky he fell off the stage. And
I almost was, another time, but you beat me to it,” he told her.
She thought about it. “You mean the guy from Rat’s Ass?” she
asked. He nodded. She grinned, a little. “That’s kind of funny, for
some reason,” she said.
“Yeah, it’s considered one of the better jokes on the rock and roll
circuit,” he said.
“What?”
“Oh, I don’t mean your beating up Kurt – I don’t think all that
many people heard about that. I mean, the general thing. Ask Maia,
she laughed herself silly,” he added, sourly.
Zanna said, “I’m probably being dense, here, but I don’t get it.”
“The joke is, that Jeremy Kane fell for a woman who’s got all his
own worst faults,” he told her.
She was indignant. “I never did drugs!”


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“Oh, not that one. In your case, the self destructive impulse
would be anorexia, as they see it. Then there's the temper, the
tendency to belt people, and a propensity for collecting members of
the opposite sex without being willing to get serious. The rap on
me, with women, was always that I went through them fast, and
avoided commitment. And so here I am, falling for you, ready to do
anything to be with you. And there you are, with Nick, with Matt,
with whoever, willing to see me occasionally, but never more than
that. Very humorous, to most onlookers.” He sounded a little bitter.
She was silent for a moment. Then she said, “Well, that’s what
you get, for blabbing to MusicTown. If you hadn’t done that, no one
would have known-”
Jeremy grabbed her, and started to tickle her. She was laughing
helplessly, trying to push him away, and when she couldn’t, she
tripped him and they both fell down on the sand in a heap.
Zanna twisted around, under him, straightening herself out. And
then he was lying on her, and it felt good, the weight of his body, the
way he fit against her. Jeremy raised himself onto his arms, not
wanting to crush her, and she twined one leg over his, and arched
her back a little, so that her hips tilted against him provocatively and
effectively robbed him of breath. She looked up at him, and said
softly, “You were the only one I was afraid I’d really fall for. So
you were the one I couldn’t be with.”
“And now, Zanna? What about now?” he asked her again.
“Now - oh, I don’t know, Jeremy, there are still so many things,
but if you mean do I want you, god yes, I want you so much, you
have no idea…”
“Oh, I think I probably do,” he said, with feeling, and then they
were kissing, long, deep hungry kisses, and she could feel him hard
against her. His hand slid under her shirt, and she had just slipped
hers between them, and undid his jeans, when a very loud and
official voice said, “Okay, folks, break it up!”
They had been so engrossed in each other they hadn’t heard the
beach patrol cop approach. They froze, then slowly Jeremy raised
his head and said politely, “Good morning, officer.” He hesitated,
figured there was no really graceful way to do this, so he sat back on
his heels and zipped his jeans up again. Zanna got to her knees,
hoping her bra wasn’t falling out the back of her borrowed


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sweatshirt, and wondering if this qualified for disturbing the peace.
Surely not public indecency, not in California…
The cop, a youngish guy, tried to look serious but couldn’t
quite keep a straight face. “Rehearsing for another video?” he
asked. Jeremy grinned, but Zanna thought she was never going to
live down that stupid Magic Moment.
The cop said, “Mr. Kane, I’m sure you can find a more suitable
place,” and Jeremy said, “Yeah, you’d think,” and got to his feet,
pulling Zanna up. The cop said affably, “Have a nice day,” as he
strolled back to his vehicle.
Jeremy and Zanna, chastened, walked back the other way, to
where Jeremy’s SUV was parked. Jeremy remarked, “That does it.
I am definitely going to buy a house.”


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Chapter 33



Zanna had elected to stay in Hawaii up until the start of the Big Day
Out tour. In a way, she was sorry that she and Jeremy weren’t -
well, more established, she supposed, or they could have gone a
little earlier and done some exploring. After all, she’d never been
Down Under. She thought about asking Matt, but that seemed like
tempting fate a little too far.
She felt as though Big Day Out was as far as she could think.
After that, her life was uncharted territory.
She flew into Auckland, New Zealand, the day before the first
concert, arriving at midmorning. Although the Big Day Out was
mostly in Australia, it actually began at the island nation to the
south. There was a bunch of press stuff, and autographing and
things like that scheduled for that day, and Jump Cut’s Down Under
profile was high enough that the promoters had made it clear her
presence was expected. She planned on checking into the hotel, and
going out to the venue right away. Hopefully there’d be time for
seeing the city in the late afternoon and evening…
There was a snafu at the hotel, since they appeared to have lost
her reservation and were otherwise booked up. Zanna got a key for
Matt’s room, along with an information packet that Spike, their tour
manager, had left for her.
She appropriated one of the double beds, tossing her luggage on
it and ripping open the envelope from Spike to find her All Access
pass, and a schedule with the relevant portions highlighted in day-
glow yellow. Jump Cut was supposed to do press in just over an
hour, so she changed quickly and was downstairs hailing a cab
within ten minutes of her arrival.


307


The venue was chaotic, as things were still being set up.
Stepping carefully over the spiderweb of thick cables underfoot,
Zanna headed for the canteen tent. Jeremy had been right when he
called it a carnival, she thought. In front of her were some guys
with Mohawks and full sleeve tattoos, obscuring her view. Then
they moved aside, and the next person she saw was Matt.
As if he sensed her presence, he swung around and their eyes met
across the expanse. Something caught inside her, as she looked at
him, and she could tell he was feeling it, too. This was it, the
beginning of the end of their big adventure. Together they’d gone
from coffee shop to arena. He’d met her when she was still a very
damaged person, and started her on the journey that was ending
here, thousands of miles and a million light years away, on the other
side of the world. She owed him so much, she thought, not only
because he’d given her the chance to play in a band, but because
he’d found a way to give her back to herself, through the music they
created together. His unwavering friendship and confidence allowed
her to reinvent herself. Without him, she would never have been
able to work with Jeremy, and bless him, Matt hadn’t seemed the
least bit jealous of that. But it was going to be different now. She
was going to lose his everyday companionship, and while she
thought it was the right thing to do, it was hard to imagine her life
without him there on a regular basis. She loved him, she always
would…Zanna crossed the distance between them, and without
thinking went into his arms. He picked her up, held her tightly,
kissed her hard. For a moment she hugged him back, cherishing the
illusion of security it gave her.
He set her down, still holding her close, and said, his mouth
against hers, “So this is it.”
“Yes.” Her voice was husky.
“Let’s make it good, Z.”
“Absolutely.”
“You ready?”
She drew a deep breath, and said, “Yes.” She smiled at him.
Matt grinned back. “In that case,” he said, “I should warn you
that about a dozen journalists are eyeing us with great interest, and
Jeremy’s over there looking very surly at the moment.”
“Back to life in the fishbowl,” she said, and added, as she moved


308


out of his arms, “You needn’t enjoy it so much, you brat.”

RockNet Online
Special Report: Big Day Out
Stay right here for up-to-the-minute reports on the action at
Down Under’s answer to Woodstock! Our crack reporting team
will be checking in with concert reviews, interviews, sound and
video clips, and more!
It’s the day before Big Day Out kicks off with its first concert
here in Auckland, but onsite things are hopping anyway. Five
stages, over forty bands, the biggest celebration of rock music in
the Southern Hemisphere, and RockNet is here to take you
through it…
In the backstage canteen, any number of artists are relaxing
in between press and fan meet-and-greet activity. Members of
Sex Gun, Bad Role Model, Slouching towards Bliss, Dogs of War,
Killer App, Lowdown and Jump Cut chill out, comparing notes on
everything from R&R Aussie style, to management companies, to
record deals, to projected tour schedules.
“No fucking way are we doing Mudfest,” says Xan Taylor from
Dogs, apparently referring to England’s Reading Festival. It’s the
inevitable rain the California native objects to, and Kelly Ross
from Bliss laughs at Taylor. “That was nothing, the year you
played. It was hardly spitting.”
There are a few surprises to be had amongst this crowd,
though. Bad Role Model are hardly living down to their name -
despite a new crop of Mohawk hairdos, they practically exude
peace, love, and sunny new age vibes as they chat about
consciousness in the new millennium. It’s a bit disconcerting
when you remember the BRM of the past, a wild and raunchy
group if ever there was one. And this year’s headliners, Sex
Gun, are so relaxed and genial that rumors about alien abduction
are starting to circulate. Can this be the same crew that
wreaked mayhem just a few short years ago?
Apparently it can. Cleaned up, older and wiser, but hardly
chastened by the experience, Arik Jones offers a one word
explanation as he downs a pint at the backstage bar. “Maturity,”
he says.
That’s it?
“Yeah. Everyone’s gotta grow up sometime. And god knows
there are enough screwed up people in this game without us
adding to the ranks,” he says. He appears to be looking at Xan
Taylor and Killer App’s Adam Leskar, notable hellions both, but


309


he quickly adds, “Not that I’m referring to anyone in particular.”
The mood of male bonding is broken by the arrival of Zanna
Martin, just in from Honolulu to join her mates from Jump Cut,
for tomorrow evening’s gig on the green stage. Martin has the
distinction of being the lone woman in this year’s testosterone
laden lineup, but she’s more than capable of holding her own in
this crowd.
Conversations stop and heads turn as Martin reunites with her
extremely talented young guitar player, Matt Wilder. After BRM’s
newly enlightened sensitive hippyspeak, these two are
refreshingly carnal. He scoops her up bodily and embarks on a
long, deep, hello kiss. The spectators watch with interest and
appreciation as Matt’s hand slides up her back and under her
cropped shirt, with the exception of Jeremy Kane, who looks as
though he could strangle them both. It’s generally assumed that
Kane has some kind of off and on relationship with Martin,
although she’s reticent on the subject, and he, after his initial
outspokenness reportedly led to a severe rift with Zanna, has
been somewhat enigmatic since.
Many of those present look wistful at the sight of Jump Cut
carrying on, and talk turns to the difficulties of maintaining
relationships with the hectic tour schedules.
“It’s tough,” says Bret McConaugh from BRM. “I’ve been
seeing one woman for over a year now, and we talk on the
phone almost every day, but it’s not the same as being
together.”
Xan Taylor shrugs. “Why bother?” he asks. Dogs of War have
been on tour for the past thirty months, and their frontman says
settling down in monogamous bliss isn’t on his list of aspirations.
“Listen, there are a lot of women out there.”
Adam Leskar agrees, but adds, “On the other hand, if anyone
in my band resembled Zanna Martin, I’d be willing to rethink that
attitude.”
“Totally bad idea,” says Xan. “Remember No Doubt? Doing
someone in your band is asking for trouble. Anyway, that’s why
groupies exist,” he adds cheekily.
At least one other present seems to also disapprove of
interband involvement - while Jeremy Kane is more or less
carrying on with his interview, his eyes flicker constantly in
Zanna’s direction, and he still looks like he could kill someone,
anyone.
The arrival of the rest of Jump Cut breaks off the Wilder-
Martin love-in, and mercifully for the frustration factor of the


310


onlookers, Andy Mitchell and David Weir confine themselves to
chaste kisses on the cheek. Eventually Martin breaks away and
wanders over to where Kane has remained seated. With a polite
smile for the interviewer, she bends over his shoulder and slides
her arms down his bare chest. Her head close to his, lips
brushing his cheek, she says mockingly but with affection, “Hel-
lo, Jeremy.” In spite of his generally unfriendly aspect, Zanna
isn’t intimidated, and evidently she knows her man: after a few
seconds in which everyone seems to be holding their breath, his
sternly beautiful features break into a reluctant grin, and he
reaches back over his head and pulls her headfirst over his
shoulder. She’s laughing as she tumbles into his lap, and he
looks down at her and says “With a capital T and that rhymes
with Z…hello, Zanna. Nice to see you again.”
Kane bends over her, nuzzling her neck and whispering
something, then looks up at the agog reporter, and says
pleasantly but firmly “I think we’re done now.” Dismissed, the
disappointed journalist slinks away, and Matt Wilder drops into
the vacated seat. Zanna slips off Jeremy’s lap to perch on the
arm of his chair instead, casually parking her elbow on his
shoulder. He slides a companionable arm around her waist as he
greets Wilder with apparent amiability. The next thing you
know, this bizarre threesome are deep in animated conversation.
And they wonder why people are always talking about their
love lives…

Zanna said to Matt, “Oh, by the way, my stuff’s in your room. The
hotel lost my reservation.”
“No problem,” he said. Jeremy frowned, and Matt, noticing, said
with mock reassurance, “Don’t worry, there are two beds.” Jeremy
forbore comment, and said only “Which hotel are you at?”
Zanna told him, and Jeremy said, “We’re the next one over.”
Matt said to Zanna, “Four stars. Headliners,” and Jeremy said in a
threatening tone, “Any smart ass remarks about pampered rock stars
and I’ll spank you both.”
Zanna said, “Ooh, kinky,” and Matt rejoined “Photo opp,”
mindful of the press still eyeing them. He got up then, and said, “I’ll
see you at the press room, Z,” and she nodded.
She started to stand up, but Jeremy's arm tightened around her
waist, and he pulled her back into his lap. “If I have to share you
with Matt, I think it’s only fair I get equal time,” he told her. She


311


looked at him uncertainly, but he was smiling, albeit with a wicked
gleam in his eyes. Zanna was relieved that he was taking it in good
part - she hadn’t meant for her reunion with Matt to appear overtly
sexy, and now it occurred to her that she was probably going to get
written up in the press as a wanton slut…but people had said that
even when she wasn’t doing anything with anybody, so you couldn’t
win, really.
Jeremy kissed her very briefly, however, and said, “You up for
some practice?” She nodded, and he said, “Stop by our trailer when
you’re done with press, then.” He let go, and she got up, but
impulsively she turned back to him as he rose, kissed him again and
murmured, “It’s really nice being here,” before she went off to “do
press.”

Jeremy was experiencing what he by now thought of as his Zanna
generated mood swing. Swift kick of joy at seeing her (“she’s here!
finally!) followed by a less than enthusiastic observation (oh. Him).
then on to brief annoyance (fuck, what are they doing?) and distinct
irritation (christ! enough already!) abating to grumpy
acknowledgement (huh, yeah, now you say hello) fading into
remembrance (ooohhh…yeah) and culminating in euphoria, now
mixed with heady physical enjoyment as his arms went around her
(oh god, she feels good!).
He knew Matt and Zanna were close, and basically accepted it -
but christ, did they have to be that close?! And he found her
affectionate (and prolonged!) interaction with Matt, juxtaposed with
what was just about the most forward greeting she’d ever given him,
distinctly confusing. But mostly, he was glad that her feelings
hadn’t undergone any major changes since the last time he’d seen
her. If they weren’t exactly picking up where they’d left off (he
still remembered vividly the feel of her bare breast under the
sweatshirt, and her hand down his jeans, that morning at the beach)
then at least they weren’t all the way back at square one this time,
either.

After half an hour of answering questions and having pictures taken,
Zanna left her band and went to rendevous with Sex Gun. Nervous
about playing with the headlining act, she had put in a lot of practice


312


over her vacation, probably more than she needed to. They went
through several songs together, and Daniel was speaking for all of
Sex Gun when he told her, “That’s really good, Z.”
Arik said, “Care to give it a try tomorrow night?” but she shook
her head. “Maybe the Perth show.”
They practiced for an hour, with Zanna playing on maybe half a
dozen songs, and discussed how the mechanics would work when
she joined them. Then talk shifted to what people had planned for
the two days off before the next show. Zanna noticed Jeremy wasn’t
saying much, but she didn’t really think about it; he had his taciturn
moments.
In fact, Jeremy was thinking along the same lines that Zanna
herself had earlier – that if they were only more certain of each
other, they could have made some plans. In fact, he’d wished he
could have visited her in Hawaii. He knew the islands well, from
time spent surfing there ( he’d owned a house on Oahu at one point)
and he would have liked to meet her family, too…he supposed they
weren’t anywhere close to that, it would be kind of a big step for
her… he wondered if there was any possibility of talking her into
spending a week with him somewhere, anywhere, after the
tour…well, he had almost two weeks to work on it.
Zanna rode back to the hotel strip with them. She got out at her
hotel, saying she’d see them later, but not making any specific plans.
She was counting on getting a run in.
Jeremy thought it was typical that he couldn’t seem to just ask
her to have dinner with him. Suddenly two weeks didn’t look like
any time at all.
But then Arik said, “Andy Mitchell’s got a place picked out for
dinner tonight, and he said we could come.” Jeremy looked happier,
because Andy and Zanna usually hit restaurants together.
“Sounds good to me,” he said.



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Chapter 34



RockNet Online
Special Report: Big Day Out
…the second concert, in Perth, was tuned up a notch from
Auckland. Killer App, who are less well known here than some
of the others, showed how they earned their U.S. reputation as
one of the better live shows on the rock circuit….Jump Cut was
hot, with Zanna Martin and Matt Wilder trading off on vocals and
offering something to lust after for both boys and girls, and
everything in between…. Slouching towards Bliss spiked their
usual pub pop with some of the more introspective material from
their latest album.
Sex Gun, though, were definitely the climax of the night.
Stripped down, buffed up, relaxed and cheerful, they bantered
between songs, took requests, and while they kept their pants
on, they did serve up a surprise near the end of their set, when
they were joined onstage by Zanna Martin. She played on “Take
It,” “This Magic Moment” and “Armed and Dangerous,” as well as
sharing vocals with Jeremy Kane on “If I Could” and “Do You
Wanna Know?” Kane appeared to enjoy performing with his
alleged paramour; during the instrumental break on “Armed,” he
slid up behind her and occupied his tongue in the vicinity of her
left ear, apparently unmindful of the large screen behind him,
projecting the image for the enjoyment of the whole stadium...


BDO Update from Australia, by Michael Perry.
Sex Gun were once again joined by Zanna Martin of Jump
Cut at the Melbourne show. Daniel da Silva explains how it
came about.
“Zanna and Jeremy have been writing songs together for
some time, and when she was out in LA, she played with us


314


pretty often, just jamming. Then she did Magic Moment with us,
and our bands toured together, so one way or another we were
pretty familiar, and this seemed like a good opportunity. Having
that extra guitar lets us do some of the older material live,
again.” He adds “Besides, she’s way better on backing vocals
than either Arik or me. Magic Moment sounded like hell when we
tried doing it without her.”
Martin admits keeping up with da Silva is a challenge. “Sex
Gun ad libs more than I’m used to, and they’re really an
extraordinary group of musicians. But Daniel’s great about
helping me, and you know, who wouldn’t take this opportunity?”
Actually, quite a few people have turned it down, notes Sex
Gun drummer Johnny Deal. “We gave up on adding a second
guitarist after a while – either they couldn’t stand us, or vice
versa. Zanna’s very tolerant of our idiosyncrasies, although she
certainly doesn’t take any crap from anyone.”


By the day of the next-to-last show, Zanna was spending most of her
spare time at the beach. After Jump Cut’s set, she hooked up with
some of the other surfers, and headed for the nearest break.
She had told Sex Gun not to count on her that night, saying,
“Who knows when I’ll get to surf again?”
“You should move to LA,” Daniel told her. The others all looked
to see how she took this suggestion, but she just laughed, and said,
“Believe me, there are times, like when it’s twenty below zero at
home, when it’s really tempting!”
Arik said to her, “If you get back early enough, stop by, okay?”
Jeremy said nothing except “Have fun,” but instead of the quick kiss
she was used to such situations, he surprised her by kissing her
lingeringly on her mouth.

She caught a ride back to the venue with Xan Taylor, who had a
rented motorcycle and, due mostly to a cavalier disregard for traffic,
got them back midway through Sex Gun’s set. He dropped her off
almost directly behind the stage, saying “Knock ‘em dead, babe.”
She was smiling as she ran up the stairs.
Daniel was the first to see her, and he gave her a big smile as they
wrapped up “Golden Girl.” Jeremy looked over, and didn’t attempt
to hide his pleasure. He said very audibly, “Z! all right!” and the


315


audience yelled in response. (Seeing Zanna performing with SG
was rapidly becoming a status thing among the fans.) Zanna
accepted a guitar from the tech, and kicked off her sandals before
joining them onstage.
It was the best yet. She hadn’t had time to be nervous, and by
now she was more used to performing with them. It felt a little odd,
being onstage barefoot and wearing a sarong over her bikini, but she
was feeling so connected that it didn’t matter. When Jeremy came
up behind her on “This Magic Moment,” she even leaned back
against him briefly, not missing a chord as she felt his hands warm
against her bare skin, circling her waist.
Zanna didn’t go back on for their encores, and so as they came
off after “Shutdown” she handed the guitar to the tech, and was
about to join Kelly Ross and Xan who were watching from the side,
when Jeremy spun her around and kissed her. Holding her to him,
he murmured against her cheek, “God, you’re good at this, Zanna,
you sounded sublime tonight,” and she felt a little thrill up her spine,
both from the compliment and the feel of him so close to her.
She said, “I’ve loved every minute,” and he responded “Oh yeah,
me too,” and then he kissed her until Johnny tapped him on the
shoulder, saying “We don’t want to make them wait all night,
Jeremy.”
Sex Gun went back on, generating the predictable roar, and
Zanna had another one of those moments of unreality. She looked
up at the night sky, almost unable to believe that she was in
Australia, that she had just finished a stint onstage with Sex Gun,
that these men with their exotic tattoos and remarkable talent were
even people she knew. Jeremy had never sounded better, she
thought, and he was so completely into it, she loved watching him.
That combination of athleticism, natural physical grace and an
innate sense of rhythm was something that couldn’t be taught.
And suddenly, they were done, saying good night, coming off the
stage. Daniel surprised her by putting an arm across her shoulders,
and giving her a little hug. “You were awesome tonight, Z,” he told
her softly, and she was so touched by it, she could only stammer her
thanks.
Arik and Johnny were laughing together, Johnny saying “We
fucking rock!” and Arik adding, “That was almost as good as sex.”


316


Zanna knew exactly what he meant; that surge of collective energy,
if not quite erotic, probably belonged in the same general category.
And then Jeremy was next to her, turning her to face him, kissing
her again. There was nothing casual about it now; he had an
intensity that told her she’d run out of time. She moved back from
him, started to say something, came up short against a speaker, and
Jeremy wasn’t giving her any room.


317









Chapter 35



He had her pinned, her back against the cabinet, his body hard up
against her. He said, his mouth brushing hers, “I can’t wait any
longer, Zanna. If you don’t want this, walk away now.”
Her senses were overwhelmed by the feel of him, that solid
muscle and bone, his skin still holding the heat of the sun, and her
mind wasn’t functioning properly at all. She said stupidly “I can’t.
You’re in the way,” and he laughed, into her hair, and said, “I am,
aren’t I? So I guess you’re not going anywhere.”
Then he kissed her, hard enough to take her breath away, and the
world spun crazily. She was aware that they were in an all too
public place, that he was clearly not going to back off this time, that
she wanted him desperately, was afraid of where it would lead.
Why couldn’t they just have abandoned and depraved sex, she
thought dizzily, that would be okay, but she knew he was going to
want more, he’d never leave it at that…his hips pushed against her,
and she stopped thinking at all and wrapped her leg over his thigh,
for a closer fit. His hand gripped her under her knee, hiking her leg
even higher, then slid along her hamstring and around the curve to
cup her ass. He lifted her up a little, his other arm wrapping around
her back to keep her tightly against him, his mouth still devouring
hers. She shuddered as she felt him hard and hot between her legs,
thought my god we can’t do this here, RockNet’s probably catching
the whole thing, but the heat flooding her took away whatever will
to stop that she might have had.
Jeremy said, his voice thick with desire, “Okay, we’re out of
here.” He put her down, and took her by the arm, almost dragging
her off the back of the stage. Several people tried to talk to them,


318


but Jeremy said “Not now,” not even pausing as they wound their
way through the mess of cables, people, and equipment in the access
area. He didn’t stop until they were at the front of the limo line,
where he opened the door to a black stretch that Zanna was pretty
sure wasn’t there for them, and more or less shoved her into it.
Getting in after her, he told the driver the name of the hotel. The
surprised chauffeur turned around and started to say something, but
a look from Jeremy changed his mind and the car moved off.
Zanna sat back, slightly stunned, feeling more than a little
trepidation but with all her nerves still vibrating from that last
embrace. She didn’t get much time to contemplate whatever it was
she might be doing, as Jeremy hit the button to raise the smoked
glass panel between the driver’s and passengers’ compartments, and
pulled her across his lap. He kissed her, more slowly now but with
his tongue and lips in full possession of her mouth. His hands were
on her hips, guiding her so that she was straddling him, and he
slouched down on the seat, rocking against her in a blatantly sexual
movement. It took her breath away, and before she could get it
back, and protest (maybe), he was licking her neck, and his hand
was over her breast, and she could only make a small mindless
sound that he took for encouragement. He turned and put her on her
back down on the seat, and his hand slipped under her sarong, along
the inside of her leg, and then his fingers found the elastic of her
bikini bottom…
Zanna realized suddenly that the limo had stopped. She said,
somewhat indistinctly, “We’re here,” and he said, “Not nearly.”
She smacked his shoulder, hard, and said, “The hotel,” and he
raised his head and stared blankly at her, then said, “Oh. Yeah,
okay.”
He wasn’t giving her any chance for second thoughts. He pulled
her out of the limo, noticed her wince as her bare feet hit the pebbled
granite walkway, picked her up and bore her swiftly into the hotel.
An elevator was waiting, and Jeremy stepped into it, apparently
oblivious to the fascinated stares of the two well dressed couples
already on it. Zanna suppressed a giggle, knowing how they must
look. Jeremy was wearing only khaki shorts and hightop sneakers,
and she was in what she’d worn to the beach that afternoon.
Jeremy said, “Twelfth floor, please,” to the gray haired man


319


closest to the control panel and nuzzled Zanna’s hair. The woman
next to him, a thirtyish blonde in a sequined evening dress, eyed
Jeremy’s bare, muscular back and tattooed arms, nicely flexed as he
continued to hold Zanna, with appreciation. He didn’t notice,
having found Zan’s mouth again.
The doors opened on ten, and the two couples got out, looking
regretful in a well bred way. Jeremy put Zanna down then, still
kissing her, and made the most of having his hands free once more.
He pulled her out on the twelfth floor, down the hall and into his
room, while she was trying to catch her breath. She should do
something here, she knew, this was a bad idea, wasn’t it, getting
swept away like this…
Jeremy turned to her just inside the door, and for the first time,
paused. His hand smoothed her tangled, windblown hair, and he
said softly, “My god, you’re beautiful.” His lips against her temple,
he went on “My lovely, wild, sweet, hot Zanna.” He untied the knot
on her sarong, and it slid to the floor, as he whispered “My wicked,
wanton Zanna.” He led her to the bed and pushed her down on it,
not ungently, his face in the curve of her neck, kissing the hollow at
the base of her throat, his hands running lightly over her hips, up her
back.
She said, “I’m probably all salty and sweaty,” in doubtful tones,
and he responded absently “We’ll take a shower later.” He pulled
her tank top over her head, unhooked her bikini top and slipped it
off. His voice was low and very husky as he said in her ear, “I am
going to do to you tonight everything I’ve been thinking of, for all
these long months.” She gave up trying to think at that point, this
was going to happen, had to, and oh god, she wanted him badly, she
didn’t care about later….he dropped his head and kissed her breasts,
slowly, taking his time. He licked, sucked, gently used his teeth,
hearing her make that little sound that was somewhere between a
sigh and a gasp, feeling her shiver under his hands and mouth. He
undid his shorts and let them drop, as he pushed the rest of her bikini
down over her slim hips.
He eased her back on the bed, his hand moving slowly up the
inside of her thigh, then cupping her gently between her legs, feeling
her hot wetness. She rolled onto her side, her naked body straining
into his, and his arms went around her, holding her close to him. He


320


felt her arch against him and he pushed her onto her back again, and
moved over her. His knee went in between hers, and she let her legs
fall open for him. She was more than willing, under him, she was
hot and ready and shivering with anticipation as he slid up between
her legs.
Jeremy heard her sharp intake of breath as he entered her. She
was small, and tight, and he went slowly, letting her body adjust to
take him. Her silky wetness made it easy, though, he was deep in
her now, feeling her grip him, hearing her moan softly as he rocked
against her. Oh, christ, he remembered that, how beautifully she fit
him, like nothing else he’d ever known. He pushed gently into her,
felt her hips thrust up against him in response. He pulled her arms
over her head, held her wrists imprisoned in one hand, spread her
legs a little further apart. He stroked her in a long, slow motion, and
she twisted under him, and arched her back, physically imploring
more, more, more.
He moved back a little, almost withdrawing from her, and said,
“Open your eyes.” She didn’t respond, and he thrust hard against
her, making her gasp, pulled back again, and said, “Zanna, god
damn it, look at me.”
Her eyes opened then, and she gazed up at him, her lips parted,
her breath uneven. She tried to move, but he held her down easily,
ruthlessly using his size and strength to keep her there, open to him,
as he teased her. He looked down at her, seeing in her face desire
and heat. He smiled, giving her a little more, feeling her body lift in
response.
He said, “Say it.”
Her eyes widened, and she went completely still under his
weight.
He said, “Just this once. Tell me.” He saw the comprehension in
her eyes, followed by stubborn resistance. Damn her, why couldn’t
she give him this? Why wouldn’t she, couldn’t she, say those
words? He knew she felt it, god damn it, he knew she did…Jeremy
bore down on her, felt her convulse sharply around him, and said
insistently again, “Say it.”
“This is duress,” is what she said.
“I don’t care, say it anyway,” he answered, backing off again.
“It wouldn’t count,” she warned, ever the lawyer but a little


321


breathless, squirming as she tried to slide him deeper.
“Fuck you, Zanna-”
“Good idea-”
“You know you do, why can’t you just fucking come across-”
“I thought I was-”
“And for once tell me how you feel about me? Because I need to
hear it, okay? I need this from you.”
Their eyes locked, his, hot and almost angry, hers suddenly
aware.
She said gently, “I love you, too, Jeremy.”
He let his weight drop on her again, shuddering a little as he went
deep inside her. He kissed her, released her wrists, and asked “For
real?”
“Yes, really.” Her arms slipped around him, held him closely, as
they found a new rhythm together. She kissed him back, then gave
him her wicked grin, and said “So now would you please just fuck
me?”
That made his blood rush, the shock of her words, nothing she’d
ever said to him before, kicking him into a state of sexual overdrive,
and he took her hard, driving into her with an urgency that couldn’t
wait, feeling her start to come, the strong convulsive grip, as tight as
her hand would have been, her legs wrapped tightly over his, heard
her gasp “oooh,” and then he was totally lost in the feeling,
overwhelmed by it.
He whispered mindlessly, “you’re mine, you’re mine,” and she
rubbed her cheek against his shoulder, but whether in affection or
protest, he couldn’t have said.
They lay together, in twitching aftershock, trying to breathe
again. He turned a little on his side, afraid his dead weight would
crush her, his arm wrapped under her to keep her close. She rolled
obligingly with him, body pressed against his, with him still inside
her, not quite ready to separate yet.
She said, “My god, Jeremy, where have you been all my life?”
and there was an undercurrent of laughter in her voice. She was
flushed with heady pleasure, feeling wonderfully satiated, the
pounding in her blood subsiding into pure physical contentment.
He said, “Looking for you. Trying to chase you down.” He
could feel all the tension of the past months slide painlessly away.


322


She was warm and cuddly and felt like she wasn’t going anywhere
soon. He said “Christ, Z, we’ve wasted so much time.”
“Better late than never.” Her voice was drowsy. She was sinking
into bone deep relaxation, stretching against him in her catlike way.
He turned onto his back, letting her slip into the curve of his arm.
She nestled comfortably into his shoulder.
He wanted to talk to her, about what this all meant, for the two of
them. He wanted to know where he stood with her. He desperately
wanted some kind of reassurance, some kind of commitment from
her, for them to belong to each other, to know that he didn’t have to
share her with Matt, with anyone.
He sighed a little sadly. He knew he couldn’t ask.
She rolled over, her back to him, and he turned into her, slipped
his arm over her. Then he felt her fingers curl around his hand, as
she tucked his arm into her body, and she wriggled a little to fit
herself against him, spoon style. He held her, the fierce sense of
possessiveness warring with an almost unbearable tenderness
towards her.
Sleepily, Zanna murmured, “Night, Jeremy. Love you,” and he
felt like he could, right now, die happy.

She awoke hours later, feeling him warm and solid against her back,
his arm a little heavy as it lay over her side. She turned over, and he
opened his eyes and smiled drowsily at her. “No,” he said.
“No, what?” she asked, surprised.
“No, you’re not going running this morning. You’re not going
anywhere.”
They made love in the gray dawn light, and by now even Zanna
would have admitted there was no other word for it. Jeremy was
showing her a different side this time; he was a gentle and
considerate lover now, his tenderness in marked contrast to the way
he had dominated her earlier. And she responded in kind; the hot
excitement had been replaced by something softer. They held each
other, the newness of it still amazing to them, kissing lightly, feeling
the warmth build until his arm slid around her back, and her legs
wound over his as he moved between them. He was watching her
face as he went into her, seeing her lips part in a silent oh-h, her eyes
widen, and she looked at him with the shared knowledge of how


323


absolutely right it felt.
His hips pulsed gently against her, just a small movement that
gave incredible pleasure. She felt herself smiling, unable to stop,
because it felt so good, this sensual intimacy. It was very different
than the heated passion they’d shared earlier, but no less arousing.
They looked at each other, moving together, marveling at the
delicious merging of their bodies. It was as though what she felt
was mirrored in his almost black eyes. And she could not stop him
from seeing it in hers, he didn’t need to ask this time. She could tell
by how he smiled back at her, that he was feeling all of it, that he
was in her head as well as inside her body.
She put her hand between them, pushed gently against his chest,
and he obligingly straightened his arms, taking his weight off,
except where he still rocked slightly against her. She wanted to look
at him, feel him. Her hands moved over the rounded muscle of his
biceps and shoulders, across the curve of the pectorals of his chest.
She felt the articulation of his collarbone, noticed a thickening in
one place where he must have once broken it. Her fingers felt the
ridges of his ribs and abdominal muscles, and her hands slid down to
where his broad upper body tapered to his waist and hips, which
were comparatively narrow for a big man. The heel of her hand fit
against the hollow of his hipbone, and she held him for a moment,
feeling his easy motion against her, both inside and out. Her fingers
moved down a little further, into the thick dark tangle where he fit
into her, arresting his movement for an instant, as his breath caught.
Then she slid her hands around his hips and up his back. He was
beautiful, she thought, and he was in her, and in love with her, and
she was struck by the wonder of that.
She looked at his face, as he watched her, a little puzzled but
willing for her to do anything she wanted with him. She smiled, and
told him “I’m memorizing you.” She reached up and her fingers
gently moved over his face. She traced his eyebrow, the hollow
beneath his cheekbone, from his forehead down his nose, brushing
over that mouth, rubbing her knuckles lightly against the squared
and stubborn chin.
He said, “No need. You can have me in the flesh, anytime you
want me.”
“Pretty easy, aren’t you?”


324


“A complete pushover. You can take me anytime, anywhere.”
She laughed, pulling him down against her once more and kissing
him. The pressure of his rhythm increased a little, and she let
herself get lost in it, until she murmured, “Oh yes.”
“Yeah?”
“Mmm.”
There was no urgency this time, but a long, slow letting go, a
sweet release as she came so naturally and easily with him that they
couldn’t tell exactly whose body was doing what. It was, she
thought dreamily, like a warm tide through her entire being, and it
felt impossibly good. They were still looking into each other’s eyes,
seeing and feeling it in themselves and in the other at the same time,
and it was as close to another person as you could ever get. God, I
love this man, she thought….
And he said, “Do you, Z? ” but she knew she hadn’t said it aloud.


325









Chapter 36



It was quite possibly the last show of Jump Cut’s short career.
Zanna hadn’t had much chance to think about it. She had been
with Jeremy up to the point when they got to the venue, and she
went along to the dressing room to get ready. They’d slept late,
shared a room service breakfast, gone back to bed, taken a long
shower together. It wasn’t exactly that she’d forgotten what today
was, but certainly she’d been sufficiently distracted that it was
shoved to the very back of her mind.
The implications were sinking in, though, as she changed her
clothes and began to stretch. She might not be as acrobatic as
Jeremy was onstage, but she moved enough that she needed to be
thoroughly warmed up before a show.
Bad enough, she thought, bending towards her knee, that it was
the end of Jump Cut. These guys had been friend and family for the
past year. But it also felt like it was going to be the end of Zanna.
She was going to be Professor Suzanne Martin again. Zanna was
the girl who could sashay around a stage, sing a song like
‘Girlfriend’ with bravado, jam with Sex Gun, go surfing with the
guys. Zanna was the one with the colorful if chaotic life, the one
who created music.
Zanna was the one who was loved by Jeremy Kane.
Professor Martin went to committee meetings and classes. Had
stacks of papers to grade, wrote articles with dozens of footnotes,
which were published in journals no one read. She struggled
through snow and ice, not sand and surf. She was more or less a
loner, who certainly never went to film premieres or the beach with
a bunch of rockers, or to bed with one in particular.


326


So things change, she told herself. Nothing lasts forever.
And as for Jeremy – well, she was stuck with her tenured position
in Minnesota, and long distance relationships didn’t have much
chance, even if you were starting with two well balanced
individuals…at least they’d had this, had last night, she thought.
Who knew, now….she rested her forehead against both knees, until
Matt came over and said to her, “C’mon, Z, time to warm up your
fingers.”
She got to her feet and picked up her guitar, and together they
started to play.

It was a good crowd for a final gig, big and enthusiastic. There were
also quite a few people watching from the sidestage area, including
members of both Bad Role Model and Bliss. A couple of songs into
their set, Zanna glanced over and saw that the ranks had been
swelled by Sex Gun as well. Daniel gave her a thumbs up as she
zipped through a tricky break, and she flashed him a grin before
spinning back to the microphone.
Jump Cut were giving it their all, and it was working, you could
tell everyone was into it. Zanna didn’t dare look at Jeremy while
she played; she stayed focused on the audience in front of her, and
on her band, but at the end of “Life is Triage” she finally met his
eyes. His smile was warm and intimate, and she felt a wrenching
sensation, because this was what they had in common, what they
could share, and it was about to end.
But not quite yet. Jump Cut had decided to do something a little
different for their encore, and so it was just Zanna and Matt who
came back on the stage initially. They began with a Green Day
cover, “Time of Your Life.” No one else would understand the
significance, but it had special meaning for them. Their version was
raw and electric, and Zanna changed the last line to “I know I’ve had
the time of my life,” and she meant it.
They segued easily into “Cover Me” as Andy and David came in,
doing it fast and hard hitting, finishing to raucous applause. As they
came off the stage, they were all looking at each other, flushed with
the excitement of the set, and the emotion of the occasion. Andy
said, “It’s been swell,” and then they were hugging and Zanna was
almost in tears as David said huskily, “You guys are the best,” and


327


Matt replied “For sure it’s been the time of my life.”
As they turned to continue backstage, a RockNet crew barred
their way. A microphone was thrust under Zanna’s nose as someone
asked, “Is it true this is your last performance, that Jump Cut’s
breaking up?”
She froze. She was aware of the ripple of shock that ran through
the onlookers, of Matt next to her, looking at her quickly. She
heard, to her left, Arik Jones say “What the hell-?” and Jeremy’s
voice in response, “Oh, for christ’s sake.”
They hadn’t planned on doing it like this. But what was the point
of denying it? So she said flatly, not looking at anyone, “Yes. It’s
true.”
Pandemonium broke out. Now everyone was yelling questions at
them. Andy was trying to explain in a rational tone, David was
saying distractedly “The timing’s mostly my fault,” and Matt
irritably swept the microphone out of the way and snapped “Excuse
us!”
Michael Perry caught Zanna’s eye, and asked “What will you do
next?”
“Go back to my day job,” she said with a twisted little smile.
Perry, astonished, said “You won’t keep playing?” and she said,
“This was it.”
Spike took charge then, saying firmly “Sorry, but that’s enough
for now,” as he cleared a way through the people crowding his band.
They reached the dressing room and were thankful for the relative
quiet, but it wasn’t destined to last long. They heard Spike, outside
the door, say “Now’s not a good time,” and Jeremy reply roughly
“Too fucking bad,” as he shoved past the tour manager.
He stopped just inside, and locked eyes with Zanna, until she
turned away. He went to her then, standing too close, looking down
at her with an expression that mixed shock, and something that
might have been apprehension, with anger. She was dimly aware of
the room becoming crowded, that Daniel was also there, looking at
her uncertainly, that Arik was asking something of Matt.
Jeremy said, his voice dangerously quiet, “Is this for real,
Zanna?”
She said “Yes.”
“Just like that. You’re quitting. You’re going back to


328


Minnesota.”
“Yes.”
He said, with an edge apparent now, “And it never occurred to
you to tell me about this?”
She was silent, since it seemed unanswerable. He went on “You
never thought this might be something I’d want to know?”
Matt said, “Leave her alone, Jeremy,” and Jeremy whirled
towards him and said, his voice now hard and angry, “Well, I don’t
have much choice, do I?” He turned back to Zanna, seizing her by
her arms and giving her a little shake, and said “God damn you,
Zanna, did you never think that maybe this is something we should
talk about?” He was almost shouting at her now.
If he’d been thinking clearly, Jeremy would have seen that she
was upset, overstressed, and in no shape for this conversation. But
her comments to the reporter had done two things to him: made it
seem that she still didn’t regard him as being part of her life, didn’t
trust him, in fact, and triggered the worst fear he had, that he was
going to lose her. He felt hurt and betrayed by the fact that she had
slept with him, made love with him, told him she loved him, and she
had known about this the whole time. If either of them had been
calm enough, they could have talked through the tangle of emotions
eventually, but they weren’t. And while Arik, or Andy, or even
Matt might have under normal circumstances intervened before
anything irrevocable was said, Arik was too shocked himself by her
disclosure, and Andy and Matt had their own turbulent feelings to
deal with.
And so the scene degenerated into chaos. Zanna was yelling at
Jeremy “That’s not how it was!” and he was yelling right back at
her, “You wanna fucking explain it to me, then?” Daniel was trying
to tell Jeremy to let go of her, he was hurting her. Jeremy in fact
hadn’t realized how tightly he was holding on to Zanna; he dropped
her as if he’d been scalded, but just a shade too late, as Matt struck
him hard in the chest, knocking him back from Zanna. For a
moment, it looked like Jeremy was going to hit him, but although
his hands were clenched into fists, his arms stayed by his side as he
said to Matt “You’re going to let her do this? Are you fucking
crazy?” He looked around, adding “Are you all out of your fucking
minds?”


329


Matt, who in fact also thought Zanna was making the wrong
decision the wrong way, had no answer. And suddenly the
commotion stopped, and it was just Jeremy looking at Zanna, and
this time his voice was barely audible as he said, “Z, you can’t do
this to us.”
It was too much for her. Her own emotional balance was too
fragile a thing for her to be able to handle feeling responsible for his,
as well. The thing that had always scared her the most about Jeremy
was not his lack of control over his temper, nor his apparent
recklessness, but the no-brakes quality of his feelings. It was very
apparent now, and she couldn’t deal with it. She was in no shape to
appreciate that he was devastated by the way she had let him get
close to her in one sense, but had not seen fit to tell him that things
were about to change in a way that would drastically affect them
both. Zanna wasn’t used to thinking about her life being part of
someone else’s, but to Jeremy, her lack of disclosure indicated that
she didn’t even see that there was an “us.” But Zanna had been too
confused to think that far.
She looked at Jeremy, and her feelings were a muddled tangle of
guilt, and love, and pain. She tried to say something, couldn’t get it
out. She felt suddenly claustrophobic, knew she had to get out of
there.
And so without a word, she turned and brushed past Arik and
Daniel, heard the latter say in his soft, slightly hesitant voice,
“Zanna?” and oddly, that was the final straw. The tears were hot,
and they almost blinded her as she went out the door, and then she
was running, out to the ranks of trailers, stumbling over the power
lines, regaining her stride as she flashed by the security people at the
gate. She kept going, down the road, as if she could outrun the
feelings she didn’t know how to cope with, as if drawing oxygen
into her lungs could force back the sob that threatened to choke her.


330









Chapter 37



RockNet Newsline
Despite considerable success, neophyte alt rockers JUMP CUT are
calling it quits. Citing other commitments as the reason for the
break up, members of the group would say little about the
circumstances. Singer Zanna Martin said she has no plans to
stay in the rock music business, and Matt Wilder’s only comment
was that it was “too soon to tell” what happens next.
Ironically, the announcement came just a day before their
first CD, “Taste This,” was certified gold.


To: Spike
From: Zanna
Re: gone

Spike, I have to get away for a while, so I’m taking the slow
boat back to the U.S. – literally. Tell the guys not to worry, I’ll
be fine, but I won’t be in touch for a while. Could you please
have the rest of my stuff sent to the Hawaii address? Thanks.
It was a privilege working with you. Thanks for always
making our rollercoaster run smoothly.

To: Sex Gun c/o Arik
From: Zanna
Re:

I loved playing with you all. It was an honor, and a trip and
a half. Thank you, so very much, for the experience.


331




To: Rachel
From: Zanna
Re: the end of BDO

Well, the news broke before we could do it ourselves, and
all hell, etc. I’ve got a nice, long ride on a sailboat out of here,
I’ll send you the names and registration, etc. so that someone
knows where I am. They’re a very respectable group who I
met in the harbor while out on a run the other day. One of
their lot just left them, and they can use an extra crew
member. I figure this will give me some time to catch up with
myself – I sorely need it.
To: Jeremy
From: Zanna
Re: I’m sorry

It hurt too much to talk about, and I was too much of a
mess over it to know what to say. And these last few weeks, I
just wanted to stay in the moment – because it was so perfect.
Love, Z
Note left under Matt’s door:

Oh, Matt, I don’t know what to say. I’m going to find my own
way back home, I need some time.
You know, a part of me has been struggling not to say, let’s put
together another band. As much as I want it, want to stay with you
and keep playing together, there’s another reason why it can’t be,
that I didn’t bring up before.
You’d keep getting sold short. As long as I’m in the same
picture, too much of the focus would be on me, just because that’s
how they do it in this business. You’re as good a vocalist as I am,
and we both know you’re much more of a musician. I don’t want to
be the one who holds you back.
Do what you have to. Somewhere down the road, I’ll see you
again.
love always,


332


your Zanna



By the next night, when Sex Gun played their last show in Australia
at the Sydney Entertainment Center, it was evident that she was
really gone.
Arik had talked to Spike, and relayed what meager information
he’d gotten to the others. It was the morning after the last Big Day
Out concert, and they were in Arik’s hotel room. Everyone was in a
bad mood.
Jeremy said, “That’s it? He doesn’t know where she went?” His
voice was incredulous.
Arik said wearily, “That’s all she said, apparently.”
“She didn’t say anything to Matt?” asked Johnny.
“Look, no one even saw her, okay? She emailed that she was
leaving, and that was it. Matt said their lawyer, Rachel whatsit, got
pretty much the same message, and so did her family. He called
them.”
Jeremy said, “I can’t fucking believe this.”
Daniel was visibly upset. “Well, that’s just great. No one even
knows if she’s okay, or what.”
Jeremy said irritably, “Stop saying that. She has to be okay.” He
couldn’t stand to think of the alternative.
Daniel turned on him. “Well, if she is, it’s no thanks to you.
Why the fuck did you yell at her like that? She hates it, anyone can
tell. When she goes all quiet, it’s because she’s hurting, and you
just make it worse.”
“Shut up,” said Jeremy, between his teeth.
But Daniel was well away. He went on “And I thought you were
supposed to be in love with her? You’ve got a nice way of showing
it, swearing at her and shouting at her, and the way you shoved her
up against that speaker the other night-”
Jeremy yelled “Shut up! Just shut the fuck up!” but the tension
of the past few days had taken a toll on Daniel’s sometimes
precarious equilibrium, and he was too far gone to care about
Jeremy’s tantrums. He was shouting back at him now “- and you
just about raped her onstage, and if you fuck anything like you talk


333


to her, she’d be crazy to ever come anywhere near you again! She’s
not yours, Jeremy, she matters to us as well, you can’t treat her like
that-” and then Jeremy couldn’t take it. He turned and lashed out at
the nearest inanimate object. As his fist crashed through the
wardrobe door, he thought incoherently that he couldn’t stand this,
she was gone and Daniel was right, it was his fault. He had totally
screwed up this time, and he had lost her, and he didn’t know how
he was going to live with that.

Tanner made Jeremy go to the emergency room at the nearest
hospital, as his arm was quite badly lacerated from the splintered
wood. They disinfected it, and stitched it up, and covered his hand
and forearm in gauze and adhesive bandage. He was in a fair
amount of pain since they wouldn’t give him anything, due to his
recovered addict status. He didn’t much care; the physical hurt was
almost welcome.
Jeremy had categorically refused to talk to the press, but Michael
Perry caught up with him at the Sydney Entertainment Center, after
the soundcheck.
“I don’t mean to hassle you, but it might be easier for you to
comment and get it over with,” said the writer. Jeremy knew this
made some sense, but-
“I don’t have anything to say,” he replied. “I don’t know why
Jump Cut broke up, and I sure as hell don’t know why she didn’t-”
His voice cracked in mid-sentence. He stopped, looking almost
confused. He started again, “why she didn’t tell me” but he couldn’t
finish the sentence, couldn’t get those words out. It was if they were
choking him. His dark eyes were suspiciously bright for a moment,
and he brushed the back of his hand across his face. He looked
shocked by what was happening to him, taken unaware by his own
emotions, and what was for most people a natural physical reaction
to them. It was a revelation to Perry, that was both striking and
unbearably sad, and nothing he was going to write about.
Jeremy Kane didn’t know how to cry.

The final show had a near nightmare quality. Sex Gun were barely
on speaking terms as they took the stage. Jeremy was so sunk in
grief and misery, he hardly noticed what was going on around him.


334


It was scarily reminiscent of the most extreme phase of his
addiction, thought Arik worriedly. But there was no rehab program
for this.
They went through the motions, with a kind of professional
efficiency that was adequate, if nothing to be proud of. Jeremy
snapped out of his stupor sufficiently to deliver a credible
performance, although it lacked his usual high voltage energy.
Ironically, on a few songs his state of turmoil worked to their
advantage – both “Miss You Forever” and “If I Could” were even
more powerful emotionally with the ragged edge in the singer’s
voice.
Finally it was over, and the limos took them straight to the
airfield. Standing on the concrete, with the warm Australian breeze
caressing his face like a lover’s touch, Jeremy wondered where she
was. Still in Australia somewhere? On her way home?
He had never in his life felt so desolately alone.


RockNet Newsline
Sources have confirmed that Matt Wilder, formerly of Jump
Cut, will replace guitarist Cole Kerrie in Bad Role Model’s
lineup. Kerrie was arrested last week and charged with cocaine
possession. As it will be his fourth offense, it’s expected that
he’ll probably get a jail sentence this time.
Bad Role Model has cancelled several shows in the immediate
future, but expects to resume touring in less than a month.


335









Chapter 38




To: Rachel
From: Zanna
Re: update

Hi…this is coming to you from a marina in the Mariannas,
one of your smaller outposts of civilization, but thanks to the
wonder of satellite relays, I guess everyone has the Internet
now.
Got your message just now, thanks for taking care of
things. Thanks for everything, in fact. I know I handled the
situation poorly – just couldn’t seem to get my head around it,
somehow. Out on the water, I feel like I’m getting some
perspective, and at least it’s calmer and not so crazy. And no,
I’m not planning on crossing the whole ocean this way –I’ll
probably catch a plane when we get to an island with an
international airport.

To: Jill
From: Arik
Re: still alive

Hey, we’re in Osaka now, getting ready for our last show in
Japan. Then we head home for almost a week. It’s been
pretty morose lately-Jeremy and Dan made up, after their
fight, but Jeremy’s way down. Hell, we all are. Zanna was


336


one of our own, we thought. Now we’re like the fucking Lost
Boys without Wendy. I still don’t understand why she didn’t
say anything – do you get that, at all? But it’s fucking hard on
Jeremy. The first time he lost her, she was his dream lover
gone, but this is much worse. Whether she knew it or not, she
was his partner, the only one he’s ever had.
Fuck, I’m sorry, this is just depressing, huh? I promise I’ll
do better in person. It’s just I’m worried about him, we all
know what’s happened before, when he got into a long, dark
mood, and it was really seeming like that was in the past, but
now I don’t know.
We’ve got one of those TV things when we get back to LA,
where you play songs and chat with the audience, like
Storytellers but this is RockNet, can’t remember what they call
it. Might just be me and Jeremy, the others don’t seem too
thrilled. But then there’s five days with no commitments. If
you’ve got some time free, maybe we could go look at the
redwoods, or something, for a weekend…



To: Arik
From: Jill
Re: can’t wait-

-to see you again. Yes, let’s grab a few days off
somewhere restful.
About Zanna – you know, I think maybe she’s so used to
doing things on her own, she doesn’t really know how to reach
out (at least, not to anyone except Matt). She always struck
me as being somewhat wary, or perhaps tentative would be a
better word, in how she relates to people, and slow to realize
they care….

To: Zanna
From: Matt
Re: stuff



337


Hey, Z, I’m writing this from someone else’s computer, so
I’m afraid you can’t email me back. I’m replacing Cole Kerrie
(don’t ask) in BRM, rehearsing like crazy, start touring in a
couple of days. I hope to hell you’re okay. I’m sorry that we
had to part ways this soon, and this way, but your right, it had
to happen, for a lot of reasons.
And this is one you might not have thought about. It’s true,
you were always going to get the lion’s share of attention, but
your crazy if you think I minded. You deserve every bit of it. I
never looked at it as you holding me back, Z. I think we had a
good partnership. Not like what you’ve got with Jeremy, but
still, good.
The thing is, I was holding you back. Not in the band, but
in your life. As long as I was around, you didn’t really have to
take a chance with another man, did you? Because you could
get just enough to get by, from me.
I love you too much to be your crutch, Zanna.
You know what I think – you belong to music, heart and
soul. But you’ll have to make your own choices. Good luck,
and I’ll see you somewhere down the line.

Love now and forever, Matt





338









Chapter 39



RockNet Newsline
Next on LIVE: Spend an hour with Arik Jones and Jeremy Kane
of SEX GUN. Hear the story behind the tunes, watch the
performance, as our favorite LA badboy rockers get down with
the studio audience.


RockNet Special Features Online
LIVE with Sex Gun: missed the show? You can hear some
highlights and read a transcript right here.

Introduction: Despite Sex Gun’s reputation, Jeremy Kane and
Arik Jones were low key and relaxed for their gig, talking easily
with the studio audience in between playing both familiar Sex
Gun fare and some unreleased material. All the songs were
played with Arik on an electric Fender bass and Jeremy playing
either a Martin acoustic guitar, or an electric Gibson Les Paul
standard. They looked comfortable and casual, if more dressed
than usual. Arik wore khakis and a plain black t-shirt; Jeremy
was in worn jeans and a navy sweater.

Jeremy: After the Hurricane is about rebirth, rebuilding, I
guess…it actually started out in a very literal way. I went surfing
in Hawaii not long after there’d been a hellacious storm, and
people there were still going through the process of sorting
through the wreckage, and putting their lives back together. I
was struck by their matter of factness – this is what you do,
that’s all there is to it. You pick up the pieces. And after the
violence of the storm, there’s this brilliant sunshine, and bright
blue water, just dazzling. It turned into kind of a metaphor,
from there – you know, in life’s darkest, most destructive


339


moments, you have to remember that the future still holds
beautiful days.
If I Could, now, that one’s about the dark moments, period.
It’s from one of my real downer phases. I always thought it was
kind of funny that it’s the song that was the big mainstream hit
for us. And Do You Wanna Know, also a hit on the pop charts, is
just about sex – I mean, there’s no real message there.
(Click here for excerpt of After the Hurricane)

Question from audience: is there any particular
performance that really stands out for you?

Arik: the ones we got arrested at. (laughter from audience).
No, really, I think the Feed the World thing would be a highlight,
because it was on such a humongous scale. And in a very
different way, when we played at a club in Hollywood when we
were first starting out. It was like, our fifth or sixth show ever,
and it was the one where we were like, yeah, we can do this.

Question from audience: Is Golden Girl about Zanna
Martin?

Jeremy: Well, I wrote it before I knew her, so I guess not.
But now it seems like it was always about her, really, even if I
hadn’t met her yet.

Question: Will Zanna be working with you guys again?

Arik: oh…who knows?
Jeremy: to be honest, this is kind of hard to talk about. I
guess most people know that Zanna and I have had an up- and-
down relationship, and right now I don’t really know where we’re
at, since I haven’t talked to her since Jump Cut split up.
Actually, I don’t even know what continent she’s on, at the
moment.

Arik: we miss her, though, and we’re hoping she gets in
touch soon. We thought about putting one of those ads in the
Herald Trib – “Zanna, all is forgiven, please come home.”
Jeremy: for me, being without her has been one of those
really miserable character building experiences, the kind people
say will make you stronger if it doesn’t kill you first. And I’ll tell
you, after she left, I was hurt and angry and ready to die from
sheer misery. (pause) I’m really bad at that character building


340


****. I usually break things, and get arrested, or do a lot of
drugs, but this time (pauses, grins as audience reacts) I
managed to avoid the last two, so that’s an improvement, I
figure.
Anyway, this next one is about Zanna, and if we ever record
it, I’m sure I’ll get a lot of **** over it. It’s called Fix. (Click
here for excerpt)

Jeremy had not been looking forward to the RockNet gig – spilling
his guts to a bunch of people about Sex Gun’s music was the last
thing he felt like doing. But once under way, he found it was oddly
cathartic. The studio was surprisingly intimate, the audience had a
good vibe, and when someone came right out and asked about
Zanna, it was almost a relief to just answer the question honestly.
He thought about trying to get in touch with her, at least to tell
her he was sorry. But…thinking back over his time with Zanna, he
was aware that he had always been pushing, getting in her face,
putting her in a position where she could only react. And if they
were ever going to be together, he thought it would have to be her
call. Otherwise, how was she ever going to know if he was what she
wanted, or what she needed?
And so even though it hurt so much it kept him awake nights, he
didn’t contact her.
He found he didn’t want to hang around Arik’s during their short
tour break, and so he went to New York instead, telling ARS that he
was available for publicity appearances there. Nancy was amazed to
hear Jeremy was willing to do PR on his break, but took swift
advantage of what she regarded as his momentary insanity and
quickly lined up a full schedule.
So he taped a public service announcement for an anti-drug
campaign, did a photo shoot for a hip women’s magazine, and talked
to several journalists. It was at the MTV studio, just before he was
to give an interview, that he remembered something.
“Hey, does Serenity still work here?” he asked. The interviewer,
a sharply fashionable blonde who was generally thought to be a
babe, but whose oversized teeth, in Jeremy’s opinion, made her look
carnivorous, was puzzled. Jeremy added, “I think she does
research.”
The assistant producer, small, female, dark, and harried, said,


341


“You must mean Serenity Hogan. She does background, archive
searches, stuff like that. Yeah, she’s still here.”
“She working now?” asked Jeremy. The blonde interviewer was
looking just a little annoyed – used to the limelight, he thought.
The a.p. shrugged. “Probably.”
The interviewer said smoothly, “Jeremy, I think we’re ready-”
“Not quite,” he said. He’d decided he didn’t like her. He hadn’t
met her before, wasn’t it rather presumptuous of her to assume they
were on a first name basis? He turned back to the a.p.
“Get her,” he commanded, smiling to make the order more
palatable. She scurried off obediently. Jeremy said pleasantly to the
impatient interviewer, “This won’t take long.”
It didn’t; the a.p. must have been a real sprinter, because she was
back in minutes, followed by another young woman. Serenity, he
presumed.
Unlike both the a.p. and the interviewer, young Serenity was
neither rail thin, nor chic in that monochromatic New York style.
She was slightly plump, with wavy brown hair that fell just past her
shoulders, and glasses. She had on a plaid skirt and red sweater, and
she looked rather like a fifties schoolgirl. Jeremy had a definite fix
on her role at MTV, confirmed by the slight contempt of the a.p.,
and the way the interviewer ignored her. Serenity was a dweeb who
was good at her job. He wondered why she stayed.
Jeremy stood up as they approached, and Serenity smiled
nervously and said, “Hi, Mr. Kane.”
He grinned. “C’mon, Serenity, we’re practically old friends, I
think you can call me Jeremy,” and he hugged her and planted a
firm kiss on her cheek, well aware of the amazed stares of Serenity’s
coworkers.
Serenity looked like she was about to faint. Jeremy continued,
“Look, I’m sorry about not calling first, but are you free tonight by
any chance? I’ve got to do an appearance at Virgin Records across
the street after we get done here, but maybe we could have dinner or
something?” His smile was lazily wicked, and he saw that she knew
exactly what he was up to. Good, give him a smart one over high
gloss anytime, he thought.
Serenity said composedly, “I could meet you at Virgin, then,”
although her face had a delicate, wild rose blush that reminded him a


342


little of Zanna.
“That’ll work,” he said cheerfully. He turned back to the
interviewer, aware of having increased Serenity’s stock at MTV a
hundred times over, and said affably “Okay, now I’m ready.”

Jeremy actually enjoyed his date with young Serenity. Once she got
over her initial shyness, she was a bright and funny
conversationalist. When she arrived at the Virgin Records
megastore, he was midway through his brief, acoustic solo
performance. He saw her waiting patiently near the back, and
before starting the next song, he said casually, “Okay, you people in
front need to make room, a friend of mine just got here,” and he
motioned Serenity forward. She looked embarrassed, but pleased,
and it was precisely because she was the sort of girl who was used to
being wallpaper that Jeremy felt she deserved a little attention. He
grinned at her, and said, “What do you want to hear?”
She asked, “Can you do ‘Dark Angel’ solo?”
He was surprised. “Where did you catch that?”
Serenity looked guilty. “It’s on the Internet,” she admitted.
He sounded the strings, adjusted the e, and smiled at Serenity.
“I’ll give it a try,” he said.
They had dinner at a place that Jill Stanley had recommended. It
was trendy and expensive enough to be somewhere Serenity
probably wouldn’t normally get to, without being obnoxious about
it, and the food was excellent. They exchanged conspiratorial
smiles when Robert DeNiro was seated two tables away.
“They always look smaller in person,” confided Serenity.
“Yeah? Me, too?” Jeremy teased.
She said honestly, “No, you look bigger,” and blushed when he
laughed. Then she continued, “But you wouldn’t believe how short
a lot of male rock stars are. The first time I saw Trent Reznor, I was
amazed at how little he is.” She added reflectively, “And kind of
ordinary looking, really.”
“Maybe they get into music because they can’t be jocks,” offered
Jeremy. “A lot of rock musicians started out as misfits in their
youth, one way or another.”
“Maybe.” She eyed him speculatively. “Were you?”
Jeremy contemplated her. He had made a point of never talking


343


about his pre-band existence. But oddly, he sort of felt like telling
her. He leaned forward, arms on the table, and said, “Given where
you work – can we agree this conversation is all off the record?”
Serenity looked surprised, then flattered. “I promise to keep
everything in strictest confidence,” she assured him earnestly.
“Okay, I trust you.” She almost glowed at that, he noticed with
amusement.
“I started playing guitar when I was about ten,” he told her. “One
of my mother’s many boyfriends left a Gibson behind when he had
to skip town one step ahead of his drug dealer.”
Serenity looked warmly sympathetic. Jeremy continued, “I was
a thorough going delinquent. The only reason I didn’t get in a lot
more trouble as a kid was that I got focused on a couple of things –
music, surfing, dirt bikes- and they took a lot of time and energy.”
He asked her about herself then, and she told him that she had left
Nebraska to attend Brown University as an English major. She
loved rock music, and wanted to try and work in it in some capacity.
“I actually applied at RockNet first,” she admitted. “Because
really they do more music programming, and they’re not as – well,
faddish as MTV. And of course I tried Rolling Stone, and
Soundline, and all the print media, but it’s pretty hard to even get an
interview. I think you have to know someone.”
“Well, now you do,” he told her. “If you ever decide you need a
change.”
The waiter removed their plates, and asked about dessert.
Serenity appeared unsure. Jeremy ordered coffee, and asked her
“Want to split something?” She assented happily, and the waiter
summoned the dessert cart. They debated the merits of cheesecake
vs. chocolate, but finally settled on raspberry lemon torte.
Jeremy remarked, “Zanna got me in the habit of sharing like
this,” and Serenity said, a little hesitantly, “I always wondered, after
you asked for all that stuff about her, what it was about.”
He said dryly, “I would think it was pretty obvious from the
media coverage, including that of your employer,” and surprisingly,
Serenity gave a ladylike little snort and said “Like that’s accurate!”
Jeremy laughed at that, then because she was such a sympathetic
listener and because the thought of Zanna was like an ache that
needed to be worked, he told her a little about how it started. One


344


thing led to another, and by the time they’d polished off the cake he
was admitting that he missed Zanna terribly, and didn’t know what
to do about it.
Serenity mused, “It must be so hard for her.”
He didn’t know what she meant. She tried to explain. “I mean,
she must have worked for a long time to get where she is, in her
profession, you know? My dad’s a teacher, and it’s really hard to
get that tenure status, I know that. Then this other thing happens,
with the band, and now she’s got these two completely different
paths she could take. And one’s very secure, but the other is
probably more exciting.”
Jeremy hadn’t thought of it like that. He had mostly just thought
Zanna was crazy, with her kind of talent, to think even for a minute
about giving up music. It hadn’t occurred to him that she was
probably really good at her other job, as well. He looked at Serenity
with increasing respect.
“That’s a good point,” he said. “You got any more?”


345









Chapter 40



After several weeks on the ocean, Zanna’s “ride” docked in Tahiti.
Papyeete was something of a surprise; more of a bustling
international city than a tropical paradise. While Zanna was
thankful for her time on the water, which had given her time to sort
out her troubled emotions, she was more than happy when she
spotted an Internet café just off the main drag.
There were messages from her family, Nick, Kaoru, and David,
which all said pretty much the same thing – are you okay? She
answered with cheerful affirmatives, promising to be in touch again
soon.
Nothing from Jeremy.
She explored how that felt, cautiously. Painful, she decided. It
was not knowing that was hard. Did it mean he was still angry?
Hurt? Had finally given up on her, fed up with her indecisiveness?
She just didn’t know.
The last email was from her department chair at the University.
It seemed her replacement had to have surgery in the near future,
and would be out for about three weeks. Could Suzanne make
herself available to cover the classes. They were, after all, the
courses she normally taught.
Zanna stared at the screen for a moment, then exited without
replying.
Next, she clicked on “search,” then typed in “Sex Gun.” Dozens
of hits, as expected. She went to a fan site she remembered as being
pretty comprehensive. She didn’t really know what she was looking
for. Going to the articles section, she saw a review from the last
Sydney show, and looked it over, cursorily at first, then with sharp


346


attention.
Jeremy had been injured? What was that about? The articles
were all cautious, but Michael Perry’s clip alluded to the break up of
Jump Cut, and indicated that it had caused problems within Sex
Gun.
Zanna didn’t know what to make of that. She went to the photo
archive. Hitting on links randomly, she had to smile at an old pic
from the mid eighties – god, they looked so young!
Naturally, there were a lot of pictures of Jeremy. One was a
newswire photo in black and white, rather grainy, but it wasn’t the
poor quality that made Zanna catch her breath. Jeremy, arms pulled
behind him, apparently handcuffed, next to a police cruiser. He
stared right into the lens, his face hard and defiant. A uniformed cop
was next to him, holding him by the arm. The caption read only
Chicago, 1989.
Pictures from awards events, Jeremy with the others from the
band, or with a glamorous girl. Some very early ones from surfing
competitions. She looked at a picture taken at the beach, probably
over fifteen years ago. His build was lighter and there were no
tattoos on his forearms. He was laughing, and his unguarded
expression suddenly hit her with a wave of longing. That was how
he looked when he was with her. Under the tough and dangerous
surface was a man who loved her with both tenderness and passion.
She thought about how for so long, he’d gotten very little
encouragement from her, yet he kept doggedly coming back.
Until now.
Zanna faced the facts. If she’d hurt him the first time she left,
this was much, much worse. She went back to the main page,
clicked on “Tour info,” and looked it over thoughtfully.

Zanna knew the easy way would be to call ARS, Sex Gun’s
management company, and get the band’s hotel information (they
invariably registered under fake names) so she could call Jeremy.
But even if she could bring herself to call, it would be so hard to
read him over the phone. She felt that if they just saw each other
again, she’d be able to tell – more. Either he’d be glad she was
there, or he wouldn’t, and if it were the latter she would leave
immediately. But she wanted an unguarded response from him.


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So after several days of traveling she arrived in New Orleans for
Rock Now! a megaconcert with many bands participating, just like
any music fan in town for the big show.
She ran into problems immediately. There were no hotel rooms
to be had, at least not in a convenient location, according to the
travel service at the airport. Resignedly, she washed her face and
brushed her teeth in the airport restroom, and took a bus to the
venue. Which was sold out, and there wasn’t a scalper in sight.
None of the event staff would relay a message to Tanner Holt. Her
request was met by an amused “Sure, babe,” smile. They thought
she was some kind of groupie, she realized. No one was making her
as the ex-singer from Jump Cut, familiar of Jeremy Kane. She was
just another scruffy girl in jeans and sweatshirt.
Before she was in Jump Cut, Zanna hadn’t attended many
concerts, and she certainly had never tried to get backstage or “meet
the band.” She had always appreciated tight security as a performer;
now she was stymied by it. She didn’t have Tanner’s cell phone
number, and ARS’ offices were closed. She was well aware of the
irony. She had put herself on the outside, and now she had to deal
with the consequences.
Thinking that her best shot might be to find a crew member who
knew her, she wandered around to the back of the arena. But even
here, the lot had been blocked off by high barricades, and a couple
of uniformed security officers kept a watchful eye on the sizable
knot of fans who waited, hoping to catch sight of their favorite
performers. As she stood there on the outskirts of the crowd,
wondering what to do, the person by her side glanced at her
casually. Then he took a closer look, and blurted out, “Holy shit!”
He was young, stocky, with light brown hair and a beard that
gave him a teddy bear look. He was wearing an ancient Sex Gun
tour shirt – the mark of a long time fan. He was staring at her
openly, and he said, “You’re…you’re…”
“Yeah,” said Zanna, “ that’s me all right.”
Another young man came up to them, this one tall, lean and
clean-cut, except for the pierced nose. He was saying, “They’re not
all here, anyway, so-” he broke off, also staring at Zanna.
“Jesus Christ,” he said. “What are you doing here?”
“Same as you, I expect,” she retorted crisply. “Hoping to run


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into someone from the band.”
The taller one held out his hand. “I’m Shawn, and this is Justin,”
he said. They all shook, and Justin said, “Can’t you just go in?”
She sighed, and explained her situation. Shawn looked
thoughtful. “What I was saying, was that according to the Security
guy, they’re not all here yet. That’s why we’re hanging out –
sometimes they’ll stop and talk, or do autographs, when they’re
going in. SG’s pretty good that way. So if you wait, maybe he’ll
show up.”
Since she didn’t have any better ideas, that was what she did.
They hung out for the next hour, talking about music and she
volunteered some funny anecdotes about different bands. They
were endearingly respectful, and didn’t once ask about her personal
relationship with Jeremy.
Then, a collective buzz began as a limo pulled up. The crowd
pressed forward against the barrier.
Zanna didn’t know that she wanted to meet Jeremy again like
this, but at any rate it wasn’t Sex Gun. She rolled her eyes as she
recognized them. Killer App. It would be. Neither Tech Diff nor
BRM were at this event, but why couldn’t it have been Bliss, or
Dogs of War, or even blasted Saturday’s Child? Of all the people to
owe a favor to…In imitation of Jeremy, she looked up at the sky and
said “motherfucker,” and it felt naughtily satisfying, although it
netted her a startled look from young Justin. Then she called out,
“Adam! Hey, Leskar!”
But everyone had started yelling, and Adam only gave a casual
wave without looking. There were too many people. She tried to
get closer to the barrier, but they were too densely packed. She
wasn’t loud enough to make herself heard over the clamor. Zanna
saw her opportunity slipping away.
But she had reckoned without her two new best friends. Shawn
and Justin alertly saw the problem, and they exchanged a quick look,
and then bent down together. Each seizing one of her legs, they
hoisted her easily onto their shoulders, and Shawn let out a piercing
whistle. Everyone around them winced, and in the sudden lull that
followed, Zanna yelled, “ADAM! Hey! NIRVANA!”
He swung around, eyes narrowed against the sun, and this time
he saw her. Breaking away from his entourage, he strode across to


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the barrier. If you didn’t know him, he was an attractive sonofagun,
she thought. Unlike most rockers, Adam was generally well dressed
offstage. In a black cashmere sweater and pleated black pants, with
wingtips, still with his court appearance coif, he could have been a
hip stockbroker out for the weekend.
“Well, well,” he said, tilting his head back to look up at her, still
on the guys’ shoulders. “If it isn’t Nirvana herself.”
“Just kidding,” she said. “Look, I need to get in.”
“How much is it worth to you?” he asked, with a lazy smile as he
contemplated her.
Zanna gritted her teeth, reminded herself that she needed him.
“Put it like this,” she answered. “If things go my way, you wouldn’t
want to collect. If they don’t, I probably won’t care one way or the
other.”
Adam remarked, mostly to himself, “Sometimes I really wish I
was as much of an asshole as people think I am.” He gave the
barrier an assessing look, and asked, “Can you get over this?”
Shawn answered for her. “Of course she can,” he said. They put
her down, and cleared a way to the front. Then Justin knelt, and
laced his fingers together. She put her foot in them, and he tossed
her up. She flipped over the barrier, and fell literally into Adam’s
arms.
He said, “What the fuck, you can’t expect me to resist this,” and
kissed her. She let him; in spite of all his very obvious
shortcomings, she had just the tiniest soft spot for Adam. Then she
shoved him away, and turned back to her cohorts on the other side
of the barrier.
“Thanks a million,” she said, smiling warmly. Shawn reached
through to hand her a business card. “In case you need anything,”
he said. She was touched. “You two are the best,” she said. “I
hope you enjoy the show.” She was turning away with Adam, when
Justin said, “Hey, by the way-“ She looked back, and he finished “I
really loved Jump Cut.” She blew them a kiss as Adam steered her
towards the backstage entrance.
Glancing at the card, she had to laugh. Shawn was an attorney.
And here she’d been thinking of them both, more or less, as kids.
Adam said conversationally, “Come to make up with the
boyfriend?”


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“Something like that,” she answered.
“I take it he doesn’t know you’re here.”
“Right.”
“What’s the plan?”
“I’m working on that.”
Adam led her back to Killer App’s dressing room. The other
occupants looked at her curiously, and Adam told them, “You never
saw her, right?” He looked at Zanna reflectively, and said, “It’s
probably better if he doesn’t hear you’re here, so to speak, until you
get a chance to see him.” She nodded in assent. He said, “Let’s see
what we can do by way of a disguise,” and went out.
He came back with one of the t-shirts Killer App’s crew wore,
size XL, and a baseball cap. Well, it hadn’t worked before, but this
time Jeremy wasn’t expecting her. Worth a try. “Funny how you
keep giving me clothes,” she remarked, pulling the black shirt with
the Killer App logo over her head.
“Very,” agreed Adam, “considering I’d prefer to see you without
them.” She was silent. Adam said, with the empathy that was at
odds with his blatant sexual posing, “Scared?”
She nodded. “Yes. The last time I saw him, he was really angry
with me. He may take one look and throw me off the stage.”
Adam said, “I take it you haven’t seen the RockNet LIVE
episode he and Arik did?”
She shook her head. “Adam, I’ve been on a boat for most of the
time since Australia.”
“Yeah, well, let’s just say I’d be surprised if he’s ready to give up
on his nirvana yet.” She made a face at him, and he laughed. Then
she said, “I don’t know if I should even be here, since I don’t know
what we can do, even if he does still…” she trailed off uncertainly.
“You know, Zanna, I don’t particularly like Jeremy, and for a
long time, I thought the same thing as most people – what the hell is
she doing with that psycho, she could do a lot better.” Adam
grinned. “Of course, I also thought if you were going to be with a
loser, you might as well give me a try.” She smiled. He went on
“But watching you together at the Take Two gig, and at Big Day
Out, it was pretty obvious to everyone that you can give each other
something that’s not too easy to come by. And I’m guessing that’s
why you’re here now.” Surprisingly, he reached out and patted her


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cheek gently. “All you need to decide is if you want Jeremy Kane to
be part of your life.”
“I knew I was going to miss Matt,” she said slowly. “And I do.
But I miss him – Jeremy –more.”
“If you want him, Zanna – you work on it together. Let him be
part of it, that messy difficult shit involved in deciding what happens
now. Because when someone cares about you, the very worst thing
you can do is shut him out.”
She looked stunned by the end of this. Then she said, “This is so
freaking surreal. I can’t believe I’m listening to relationship advice
from a member of Killer App.”
“Well, if it makes you feel better – if it doesn’t work out with
Jeremy tonight, come back and I’ll take your mind off him fast,” he
offered, with a wickedly lecherous look.
She had to laugh. Then he said warningly, “But I can’t guarantee
my band would be okay with a girl joining, even one as good as
you.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Huh?”
“Isn’t that what the fight with Jeremy was over?” he drawled,
raising an eyebrow.
“What are you talking about?” She stared at him, totally
perplexed.
He went on, “It wouldn’t make sense that he’d be pissed at you
because your band broke up; that wasn’t your fault. We all assumed
the problem was that you turned his band down.”
Zanna couldn’t even begin to formulate a response to that. It was
completely insane. Adam was frowning a little as he looked at her,
then he said lightly, “Oh well, you know what rumors are.”
She found her voice. “That one’s just crazy. There was never
any question of my joining Sex Gun.”
“No?” he said quizzically. “Well, if you say so. But it’s not such
a crazy idea, Zanna. Think about it. They used to have two
guitarists, and they initially wanted to get a replacement when Steve
died. The main problem was that they just couldn’t get along with
anyone, but they obviously like working with you.” He shrugged.
“No one could blame them if you seemed like the next step in the
SG evolutionary process, and to their credit, they’ve never been a
static act. And they’ve certainly never shied away from


352


controversy.”
Zanna stared at him. “But we never…I mean, no one ever
mentioned anything like that!”
“Well, they wouldn’t, would they,” said Adam reasonably.
“Since you were already in a band.” He saw that she was
completely nonplussed, and told her, “Look, Zan, I’m not friends
with any of them, so I don’t know, okay? I’m just telling you how it
looked to the rest of us. God knows, if I was seeing a chick in a
band, and writing with her, and she’d been playing with us, and then
she up and said she was quitting it all, I’d take it as a major slap in
the face. So when you go kiss and make up with Jeremy, you make
it fucking good, Zanna!”
She was still speechless. Adam laughed, saying, “I’m going to
go check out SG’s schedule.” He departed, leaving Zanna in
complete emotional chaos.
Thankful that the rest of Killer App had decided to ignore her,
she sat down in a corner. She had truly never seen this coming. She
hadn’t really thought about where her collaboration with Jeremy was
leading. They worked on songs together, almost because they had
to. Because it felt right to do it, wrong not to.
She had vaguely thought that Sex Gun might end up using some
of the songs as B sides or something, or they might wind up on
soundtracks. She supposed it wouldn’t be too surprising if she had
played on a recording again, the way she had on Magic Moment.
But actually joining Sex Gun – surely Adam was wrong?
But she remembered how carefully they’d courted her for Take
Two, for Big Day Out.
Adam was back, and she almost had a heart attack when she saw
who was with him. Daniel da Silva, looking mildly puzzled,
apparently not knowing why Adam Leskar would urgently need his
presence.
His eyes widened when he recognized Zanna; then, with a
demonstrativeness that surprised her, he hugged her tightly,
knocking off her baseball cap.
He said, “Where the fuck have you been, anyway?”
She replied, her voice muffled against his shoulder, “On a boat.”
“Well, Jesus, Z, don’t do that again, okay?”
“All right.” She laughed, a little shakily, as Daniel let her go,


353


now beaming at her. She was relieved by his reaction; she’d had no
idea how Sex Gun would feel about her, and had visualized
everything from stony politeness to outright anger. This affectionate
scolding was curiously heartwarming.
“So you’re really back?” asked Daniel.
“I don’t know,” she answered cautiously. “But I need to see
Jeremy.”
An unholy grin spread across Daniel’s thin, serious face. “I
know exactly how we should do this,” he told her happily. “It’s
going to be great.”
Zanna eyed him with some trepidation. “What?”
“You stay out of sight until we’re on. Then you come out, and
play Magic Moment with us.”
Adam laughed. “Perfect.”
Daniel was nodding enthusiastically. “We haven’t been
performing it at all, because it sucks without you,” he said. “So
when Jeremy hears those chords, he’s going to freak. It’ll be great.”
Zanna wasn’t at all sure that Jeremy freaking was a good thing.
“I don’t know about this,” she said doubtfully.
“Oh yeah, Z, you gotta do it! Think about it. The last time you
saw him, you gave him a bad surprise. This’ll be the good one, it’ll
balance everything out. And you can pay him back for dragging you
out there at Oceans,” he added.
“The lyrics are right,” said Adam, amused. “Talk about taking
someone by surprise…”
“That is so corny,” she said.
“Romance is always corny, Zanna. That’s the nice thing about
it.”
She looked at Daniel. “How do we work it?” she asked. He let
out a delighted crow of laughter. “This is going to be awesome,” he
assured her.

And so it was that Zanna was waiting behind the stage, listening to
Sex Gun playing Golden Girl late in their set. The next song on the
setlist was “I Will Find a Way.” Daniel had picked this as the time
for her entrance, because he had a solo at the beginning. This way
he could segue into the other song before Arik and Johnny came in.
He thought it would be best if the others didn’t know in advance.


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She moved up in the wings, and accepted a guitar from the tech
who was the only SG person in on this stunt. He patted her
reassuringly on the shoulder and leaned over to say in her ear “Nice
to have you back.”
Zanna was incredibly nervous. Mostly about Jeremy’s reaction –
there was a distinct possibility of public humiliation here, if he
wasn’t as happy to see her as Daniel seemed to anticipate. But more
than that, she was terribly afraid that it might be too little, too late.
And she couldn’t even stand to think what that would mean.
Daniel had started his solo. Zanna, taking off her Killer App cap,
saw Arik glance at him in surprise, as it changed into something
markedly different than his usual intro to the song. Then Daniel
looked across to where she waited, and nodded, and she stepped out
onto the stage, playing the opening notes to “This Magic Moment.”
She sensed, rather than saw, Jeremy spin around at center stage.
She looked up and for a long moment their eyes met, as she kept
playing.
He looked tired, she thought, a little older and more worn than
when she’d last seen him. She was almost holding her breath as he
stared at her in disbelief. He didn’t look glad to see her, she
thought, he just looked shocked…
Then he smiled.
Slowly at first, then a big, happy sunburst of a grin that spread
across his whole face. She could hear Arik and Johnny come in
behind her, as Jeremy shook his head, laughing a little. Then he
caught the microphone and started to sing. Zanna moved up to the
mike the tech had just set out near the front, and came in on the third
line. And then they were both well into the rhythm of the song, and
doing it as well as they ever had. Jeremy was looking at her, and
everyone in the arena could hear the raw emotion in his voice when
he got to the part about having everything you want.
Daniel crossed the stage to jam with her, and Zanna found herself
playing the best lead of her career, matching him note for note,
chord for chord. She finished her part with a classic Matt Wilder
slash – and- crash, and joined Jeremy at center stage to finish
together.
She was only dimly aware of the deafening noise of the audience.
She slung the guitar off her shoulder, blew a kiss into the blinding


355


white light of the spot.
Jeremy shoved the microphone out of the way, and said in her
ear, “I am so sorry, Z.”
“Me, too.”
“I love you, Zanna.”
She hesitated, then she smiled and said, “Hold that thought,” as
she turned and walked off the stage. Jeremy, looking after her, had
to smile; it was such a typically Zanna nonresponse.
But she was here, and that pretty much said it all. He was
suddenly incredibly lighthearted and energized. He did a back
handspring, came up laughing, and said into the microphone, “Okay,
my life just improved about a thousand per cent!” He turned to
Daniel then, and said, “I have no fucking idea what we’re supposed
to play next.”
In fact, they did a new one, “Fix.” Zanna, standing with Tanner
Holt offstage, was jolted by the lyrics, even as she was impressed by
the structure of the song. But it was Jeremy all over, she thought.
He wasn’t going to pretend it hadn’t happened. It was all there:
hurt, anger, confusion. Longing, sex, and passion.
And yes, love. That four letter word that wouldn’t let go.

They came off, and Jeremy went immediately to Zanna. Tanner
tactfully moved away; Jeremy hadn’t appeared to notice him
anyway.
He was standing close to her, as usual. He touched her face,
brushing her hair back, his hand resting against her cheek. He said
slowly, “I hated myself, when you left.”
“It wasn’t your fault. I didn’t handle things very well.”
“Don’t disappear on me again, Z.”
She took a deep breath. “I won’t.”
“That a promise?”
“Ye-es.”
He was teasing a little, now. “That a commitment?”
She made a face, laughed, nodded. “Yes.”
“Well, god damn.”
“Oh, shut up.”
He laughed. She said, “I don’t know how this is going to work,
but I guess we have to figure that out together.”


356


“Together.” He said it slowly, savoring the sound of it.
The others gathered around them. Johnny grinned as he
remarked, “I don’t know whether I want to kiss you, Zanna, or
spank you for that disappearing stunt, but I’m fucking glad you’re
back!” Daniel kept patting her shoulder, but it was Arik who said,
“So, Zanna. Gonna stick around this time?” His voice was casual,
but as he smiled at her, she suddenly knew what he was asking.
Oh god, Adam was right. Jetlagged and near exhaustion, almost
overwhelmed with the weight of it, here in a dusty crowded hallway
in New Orleans, she had to make an irrevocable choice. Was she
really going to throw away all those years of education, a respected
profession, a secure future? Was she really going to throw in her lot
with these notoriously dysfunctional individuals?
She looked at them, and realized that over the past few months
they had become something more than friends. Arik, the
responsible one, sensible and understanding. Daniel, brilliant,
sweet, a little goofy. Johnny, easygoing and lighthearted. And
Jeremy. Moody, often difficult, hot tempered, passionate, strong
willed. Were these people she should hitch her star to? A wave of
dizziness washed over her, and she closed her eyes for a moment.
She felt Jeremy put his arm around her, heard him say close to
her ear, “It’s okay, Z. You don’t need to decide anything now.”
Somehow, it was all she needed. With a rush of adrenaline, she
opened her eyes and said clearly, “I’m back to stay.”
Jeremy’s arm tightened convulsively around her shoulders,
Arik’s smile broadened, and Johnny exclaimed “All right, Z!” But it
was Daniel, who without speaking, simply reached out and knocked
his fist lightly into her hand. Her throat caught as she recognized
the band’s trademark gesture, but then Johnny was saying matter of
factly “We’ve got work to do,” and turning towards the stage.
Jeremy smiled down at her as he steered her to the front, and
together they waited as the noise grew to deafening proportions.
Daniel and Arik, facing each other, sounded in unison their clear and
somber notes, and Johnny came in underneath with a shiver of
cymbals.
And Sex Gun began to play “If I Could” one more time.




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The end