JEWEL EYED JUDY

Track Three: Light My Fire

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INTERVIEWER: You weren't a fan?

JUDY: [shaking her head] Not at first. But they redeemed themselves.

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Naturally she'd had to stick around for Sandy, who was slowly starting to return to her usual self. What had happened earlier, Judy wasn't so sure, but Sandy herself seemed to insist she was fine and prepared to go on.

"You know I'm here if you need anything, on or off stage," said Judy, a slight sympathetic smile etched onto her face.

"I'm fine. Really. Just need to get out there." nodded Sandy in return, before leaving Judy backstage on her own.

There she stood, with an air of uncertainty and awkwardness, when The Six stumbled out.

Laughing and joking amongst themselves, congratulating each other for a great show, they stopped suddenly when they saw Judy. If she thought that awkward silence at the diner was bad, then this was only a hundred times worse.

"I'm not stalking you," she blurted.

Another silence.

"I know Sandy."

The band traded glances amongst themselves, a few of them shrugging before moving on, now unconcerned with her presence.

It was then Judy sat cross-legged on the floor, peering through the side of the stage, watching as Sandy prepared herself to sing. Despite her failing career, she was never bad. In fact, Judy regarded her as one of the best singers she'd ever met, and knew Sandy's failure to rise to fame probably boiled down to never being sober enough to sit through a record deal. She was her own worst enemy, Judy knew that, having come from a sheltered, strict life in the South to the wild, vibrant Sunset Strip. It was inevitable that she develop a rebellious streak and start doing every drug under the hot Californian sun.

But, truthfully, Judy was always captivated whenever Sandy was onstage. Her naturally carefree attitude translated perfectly onto her stage persona, so much so she wasn't sure where Sandy Brown ended and Sandra Boyd started. Hearing that name was a total mistake, one Sandy, or Sandra, denied ever happening. Judy thought she was falling in on herself, incapable of getting off that train to self destruction.

What Sandy had said before was right though, Judy could sense that much. Music, or singing, really was her escape. Judy just prayed she could keep going.

Lost in both thought and music, she didn't notice when a set of shoes stopped abruptly next to her. When she regained attention, she was startled by them.

Looking up, she found herself face to face with the bassist - yet again. He smiled and Judy noticed his outstretched arm, hand loosely holding onto a pack of cigarettes.

"Want one?" he offered.

"Please," replied Sandy, taking one, and then his lighter. She brought the stick to her lips, and gently cupped her hand around the end as she lit it. She took a drag, "Thank you."

Smoke floated through the air as she handed the lighter back, and he crouched down. They weren't on the same level, but she could see his face much clearer. He was definitely attractive, and his eyes were permanently fixed on hers.

She took another drag, glanced at Sandy, before returning to confidence. Holding out an empty hand, she introduced herself.

"Judy Eaton," she smiled, twirling the cigarette between the fingers of her other, unoccupied hand.

Warmth spread through her hand as he took it in his, with yet another smile.

"Eddie Roundtree," he replied. "Can I get your honest opinion?"

With an awkward smile, "You want that?" She couldn't help but let out an uneasy laugh.

"I do," said Eddie, shifted closer - clearly intent on flirting with her, Judy realised.

With a shrug, she gave him his answer.

"I think you should find a well-paying job while you still have the chance."

Taken aback, his eyebrows scrunched, and he nodded a few times. "Interesting," he said, "Why?"

Judy stabbed the remainder of the cigarette into the sticky floor of the venue, "It has no soul. Your frontman," she gestured towards the man she'd seen earlier, "it's his band, if you could even call it that. There's no team. It's just him and his words, his music. Do you all go along with everything he says, or do you challenge him? He's a dictator in denim, if I've ever seen one."

Eddie let out a humourless laugh, shaking his head.

"I'm right, aren't I?"

"And here I was, thinking you were shy." said Eddie.

Judy shrugged, "I was high."

Letting out an 'ah', he moved from his crouch, sitting uncomfortably on the floor next to her.

"Well," he breathed, "I appreciate the honesty. Even if it is what I asked for."

"I'm just passionate about music. I'm sure you must be, too."

"I am," he replied, "You play?"

"I'm a session singer. So, I suppose, if you need anyone... I'm not likely to decline. Hell, I probably need the money."

"I'll keep that in mind, if you can give me your number." he said, that familiar, playful smile still was stuck on his face. He was really closing the distance now, Judy suspected, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. But that didn't stop her surprise, her head whipping around.

"I didn't expect you to be that forthcoming."

With a laugh, "Is that a yes?"

This time, her head shook, though she continued to smile, "You're arrogant. Try again next time."

He opened his mouth to respond - before he was interrupted.

"Eddie!" the frontman, still nameless, Judy noticed, called out.

Judy held out her hand again as he stood up, which he accepted. "I'll see you soon," she said, eyes back on Sandy.

"Yeah, see you..?" he answered back, bewildered.

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