Unchained | Hiatus

Chapter 6: Turn my Heart Away

"Her name is Tiffani Rizzolo, but she's been going by her stage name since she dropped out of high school last year," Alex explained to Brandi as the two surveyed the record store, neon fliers in hand. Alex pulled a Rolling Stones Sticky Fingers album from one of the shelves and examined the sleeve. "She doesn't talk because she says bassists don't get a voice. I think it's just because she hates everyone. She really hates you."

"Me?" Brandi repeated defiantly, flipping through the Def Leppard section. "Why does she hate me?"

"You're the lead singer," Alex replied matter-of-factly. "You get the attention; you're beautiful, you've got a great voice, you're the one the spot light shines on."

"That's not true, Rizzy's far more beautiful that I am. And she's a great bassist! Paul McCartney would be jealous. She has no good reason to hate me and no good reason not to talk to anyone but you."

"Hun, she hardly talks to me. All she ever says, really, is converted into lyrics. I don't know, I kind of feel bad for her. She's had family problems, too. She's like the epitome of a rocker."

Brandi hesitated. The anger rising inside herself was not at all justified and she tried to fight it. Rizzy was just a poorly mistaken bassist and Brandi knew she deserved more recognition than just "the bassist." She sighed and pursed her lips. "We'd better finish putting up fliers," she drawled, watching as Alex slowly replaced the Cinderella album in her hands.

They knew they would get business if they put up fliers at Tower Records, and with it now conquered, they thought of more places to go. 

"We haven't done Sunset Boulevard yet, have we?"

"I was going to since I live on that street so you can get back to Inglewood before midnight."

"I'll go with you, I don't mind. Maybe we'll run into Deb-- she said she was going to the Whisky for some drinks. She said some guy was playing there that she's been seeing for a bit."

"Who now? Patrick Dempsey? He was last week, right?"

"Ha-ha," Alex chortled sarcastically. "If you can get it, get it, you know? I envy her. But no, she's seeing some guy named Mikey, but I don't know who he is."

"Mikey?" Brandi reflected, trying to put faces to names, but she, too, didn't know who he was.

"Yeah, have you heard of Spütnic?"

Brandi's heart missed a beat and her arms went limp, the neon band fliers falling to the ground with a swoosh! Alex reacted immediately and took Brandi's shoulder, asking if she was alright, but Brandi couldn't say anything. She stooped to collect the papers, unable to think of anything but the horrible irony in the fact that Michael had found another victim. 

Victim? she thought. Victim of what? He told me he wasn't a robber... But how dare Debbie see Michael! How dare she back-stab me like that! But... Brandi sighed and a slight smile touched her face. Debbie doesn't know my history with Michael, she's not a backstabber. Why am I jealous? I can't like Michael!

"What the hell?" Alex's voice entered Brandi's reverie, snapping her out of it. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah!" Brandi breathed. "Yeah, just-- muscle spasm. I get those a lot."

Alex bent to help collect the papers, eyeing her friend curiously. "Okay... as long as you're sure you're fine."

Brandi looked over at her seriously, catching her green eyes with her own brown ones. "I'm positive."

When they had collected all the fliers from the ground, leaving one with the store manager, the two girls exited the store and climbed into Alex's run down Buick Regal. She drove them up to the Whisky-A-Go-Go on the edge of the Strip and parked on the side of the road a block away, darkness setting in as the autumn sun set over the ocean. They carried a few fliers inside and Alex left to find the manager.