Girls Who Play Guitars

•music is medicine•

~ABOUT A WEEK LATER~

~A SECLUDED BEACH, SOMEWHERE NEAR BRISBANE, QUEENSLAND, AUSTRALIA~

The idea for the video for Slider's next single, 'North', was to film the band playing their instruments on a beach with their gear set up to look like they were playing on stage—amp stacks and all—with the rolling waves of the Pacific Ocean behind them. Interspersed with the outdoor scenes would be black and white footage from their shows.

An urgent fax at Heathrow made sure they signed the storyboard off before they got on the plane.

To tour Australia.

With Glue.

Ellie, Kim and Meg had met super-cool manager Brenin Owen at his offices in Soho and he was as buff as he was gigantic. His neatly trimmed hair was the colour of an overcast day and he had matching sharp, slate-coloured eyes set off by his darker than dark skin. He smelled like expensive aftershave—cinnamon and spices—and even though he wore a slick grey suit, he won Ellie and Kim over with his no-nonsense, practical professionalism.

"He's a total spunk under that suit," Meg had said, licking her finger to zap the air in front of her.

Ellie had to admit Brenin was a true professional - a million steps up the ladder from Sam. He didn't speak down to them or try to win them over with lines of coke on his gleaming glass coffee table. He was practical and organised, reassuring them he dealt with problems like Jessie every day. Even though Ellie didn't want to – she found herself agreeing with him and his ideas for the band.

Ellie was also still adjusting to the fact that Brenin loved Meg's idea of joining Glue on their Australian tour. Ellie and Kim had argued Slider should only go back to Australia if they were headlining but Brenin had silenced them with target audiences and marketing strategies. He'd even shut down Ellie's argument about the clash of music styles with something about a "halo effect". And, just like that— even with all of Ellie's protesting—it was organised.

And here they were on an unexpectedly hot day in Brisbane with the scorching Australian sun beating down on the entire crew and a wind getting up making everyone cranky. Halfway through the shoot the stylist and the director insisted Ellie, Meg and Kim change from their usual black jeans, t-shirts and singlet tops into revealing skin-tight black latex catsuits.

"I'm not wearing that crap." Ellie held her ground as the stylist pleaded with her to change. "It's not our image."

Meg grabbed her suit from the rack. "People's eyes are totally gonna pop!"

"It won't just be their eyes that pop," Kim said from under the enormous rainbow-coloured beach umbrella she held over her head.

Ellie brushed away the stylist who attempted to push the catsuit into her hands. Jet-lagged and hot, she didn't want to be on the beach with the sticky sand and salty wind for much longer. "I bet AC/DC never got told to wear nipple crippling leather suits in their videos."

"Bon Scott didn't need to. His jeans were practically see-through," Kim joked.

"Mais tu es si belle!" The director, a French guy dressed in camouflage gear, tried to hurry them along. He looked the three of them up and down with critical eyes. "Let's show the world your talents, belles dames!"

Ellie crossed her arms, fed up with the whole thing. "Our bodies are our talents now? Not our music?"

"My body is talented." Meg started towards the row of white marquees billowing in the wind that made up the change area and lunchroom.