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“Perfect, this way you can decide how much to show off depending on if you tuck in. Just a FYI, these jeans will make your ass look great. Now, shoes.”
Zipping back over to the bed, she picked up a pair of black and white Converse sneakers. Taking the offered pieces, I eschewed the cute for the kick-ass.
“Much better,” Jonna said, as we assessed the results in the full-length mirror.
I couldn’t disagree. It felt a bit strange, but I did look fantastic. All dark and sexy, like a vampire on the prowl. It helped that my hair was black. Not naturally of course, but I’d started dyeing it in college, generally finding people took me more seriously.
“Here,” Jonna said, gently tying my hair back into a ponytail.
The effect was instant, showing more of my face as well as my neck.
“Now for your make-up,” Jonna announced.
With a light, quick, almost professional touch, Jonna wiped away my professional look, replacing it with dark, vampy lipstick and a seductive smokey eye.
“Wow,” I whispered when she positioned me back in front of the mirror.
“One more thing.”
I could feel the cool weight on my shoulders as the black leather jacket settled into place.
“Perfect,” she said delightedly.
“Thank you.”
“No problem, sis.”
Jonna hugged me from behind, putting her head on my shoulder like she would when we were kids. We were both older, and a little taller, and she was a married woman with a family of her own. But she would always be my little sister.
Chapter Four - Ragnar
The rules were clear. There was to be no smoking or drinking within the Sanctuary. It was quite like church in that respect, minus the wine. One of many lessons we’d learned the hard way. There were no rules about doing it outside though, in terms of either a church or the recording studio.
Sven, Stig and Varg smoked, drank and were merry, out in the parking lot, amid the picturesque industrial view. They’d hit it off over their shared love of toxic substances and were sharing quite admirably. My addictions were of a different nature, the blue light illuminating my face as I scrolled. I hadn’t even gotten up from behind my drums. My other, more recent addiction was also in full swing.
I’d never heard of Asgard Fine Jewelry, which was a surprise, my sponsored results tending to throw up anything even vaguely Scandinavian. From the Iceland Foods supermarket chain in Britain to Viking River Cruises. But when I searched Stephanie’s name, it was the first thing that came up. How many Stephanie Morrises could there be in the greater Seattle area? It was almost a dead certainty.
The photo on the staff pages only confirmed it. She looked so serious in the snap. Formal clothes, no smile, looking into the distance like she was looking through the camera. I couldn’t fault her for it. I kind of hated having my picture taken, truthfully, which could be a bit of a bummer when it came to promoting the band, even before we signed with Suspicious Activity.
A lot of the stuff on the site was really nice, which was mostly down to Stephanie, who had been the artistic director for the past six years. On an impulse I bought a bunch of it. Partly through genuine appreciation, but also in a crazy attempt to connect with her.
“Hey, man.”
“Oh, hey,” I said, shoving the phone hastily into my pocket.
Seth probably thought I was watching porn or something, but that would be less embarrassing than my actual secret.
“I think we’re done for the day. Sven’s going to mix the tracks and put them with the others. We’re getting near the end. One of the advantages of recording live, off the floor, yeah?”
“Nice to know the practice didn’t go to waste.”
“Not at all, this may well be the fastest album we’ve ever recorded, which is in no way a bad thing. You guys are impressive as fuck.”
I tried not to blush, there was a hardcore reputation to keep up after all, but I couldn’t help but feel flattered. It really was high praise coming from him. I was only glad we could live up to his standards. From the beginning, we did the best we could to be as good as we could.
Our first gig was at a local dance in a barn for 300 Krone. 100 each, it seemed like a fortune at the time, after so long of playing in basements and garages, trying to get our sound down. The partygoers didn’t know quite what to make of us, but no one threw anything, and we still got paid, so we called it a win.
“I heard you were chatting with Stephanie, at the wedding.”
“Um, yeah.”
He knew, of course he did. He was Stephanie’s brother-in-law. Jonna probably saw us together and told him. Or maybe he saw us and was keeping it quiet until it came up. I wasn’t sure why, but I felt I could trust him not to tell the others.
