IN WHICH the heiress to grunge is swooned by the king of garage rock in a lifelong affair over the span of three decades, always fervidly dancing on the edge of crashing and burning...
[2000s JULIAN CASABLANCAS x GROUPIE!OC]
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"But he kissed me! He kissed me! It was fucking amazing!" Stella shrieked in playful frustration, hands firm on Chloë's back as she jumped up and down. Chloë chuckled and rolled her eyes, "This is what he wants. Don't give him what he wants. I know that boy, he blows through girls like nothing." Stella groaned as she walked down the stairs of the chapel exit to Notre Dame. All her classmates in green plaid skirts and black jumpers chattering beside her as the dismissal bell finished ringing. "You're such a mood dampener." She scoffed, fixing her stockings as she reached the bottom of the stairs. Standing at the gate, Chloë shrugged. "You're too naïve, Star, you need someone looking out for you." She had grown accustomed to the nickname her best friend had bestowed upon her.
Despite being a bit older, Chloë and Stella got along exceptionally well. She would come pick her up every day after school to go have lunch at the Chelsea Market. This daily tradition strengthened their bond. Chloë was the guidance Stella needed; Stella was the fiery streak Chloë was missing. Their laughs entwined with the browning trees above them. The last of the summer lush was leaving New York, it seemed as if time was moving rather quickly. It had already been a month since Stella had attended that Strokes' gig. Despite saying he'd stay in contact, Julian never called. As the leaves turned, she waited patiently to hear his voice on the other end of the line. "That's why he's doing this," Chloë said, suddenly turning serious, "I should've stopped this a while ago." Stella stayed quiet, almost ashamed she'd fallen for such a stupid trap. She had her suspicions but wasn't all that sure. "Chlo, come on, it's my fault too. Phone works two ways." She sighed, looking at the brownstones that lined the street.
"Don't give me that bullshit, Stella. You know a man is always supposed to call first. And he's not a man, he's a twenty-one-year-old baby playing a seventeen-year-old girl. You're a girl." She kicked the orange leaves out of her path, looking down at the cement, unable to face her best friend's honesty. A small sigh left her as she felt the autumn breeze, causing a small chill through her thin jumper. "Don't be so incessant, I'm sure he just hasn't had the time. He's busy." She knew that wasn't true, he had plenty of time to call. Subconsciously she wanted to avoid admitting the truth. Maybe crying softly between her linen at night was much easier than saying out loud. Saying it out loud would make it real. "He just wanted to try you, he didn't like you, spun you right around and sent you where you came from." Chloë sighed, squeezing her arm. "Don't worry kid, you'll be over it soon. You don't even know him well enough to cry or anything. Be grateful it didn't get any worse." But how she wished it had, "You just need to listen to some Stevie Nicks, you'll be alright. He's like Lindsey Buckingham, no one likes Lindsey Buckingham."
Across the city, Julian sat tapping his foot in the conference office of the RCA records suite. His eyes bounced around the boring white walls, the middle-aged men in suits. His mouth was dry, hands fidgeting with a pen. All this contract talk felt like a ticking time bomb that he couldn't stop. His usual drunk confidence completely dissipated at the face of record executives. He knew after this meeting he'd go get plastered to celebrate but something felt so off. Of course, he was elated to finally be signed to a label, their EP had done exceptionally well and caused a bidding war. The fear was creeping in. How long would it take til' the novelty wore off? "No, this is amazing. No one's doing it like us." He silently reassured himself.
His palms became clammy, a gag stuck at the back of his throat as the contract reached him. He signed, trying to control the shaking in his fingers. Condensation building rapidly on his forehead. Heart pounding like a wild horse on the loose. If he could run, oh how he'd run. Run, run, and run. He had enough energy to sprint for miles. A mixture of dopamine ran through his brain and paralyzed his nervous system. Legs weakly coming to a halt. And it was done. A ten-year contract. The next decade of his life had just been determined, the walls of the office caving in on him as he blankly stared at the window, sliding the paper to Fabrizio. Brown eyes stared widely into the distance, unsure of the weight of what he had just done. "Son are you ready for a group photo?" an executive joked, bringing him back to life. He chuckled dryly, politely and put on his best grin.
"Guess we're a signed band now." He puffed on his cigarette, unknowingly walking past the school. Fab chuckled, "Yeah, guess we are," noticing his friend's uneasy demeanor, he asked, "What's gotten into you? Scared of schoolgirls?". Schoolgirls. He hadn't thought of schoolgirls. Stella. He looked up at the entrance where girls exited, a gothic font reading NOTRE DAME. "Fuck." He mumbled, rubbing his face. "Did I get it right? What do I win?" Fab beamed, still unaware of what they'd stumbled upon. "Whatever, let's just- Let's get something to drink." Fab shrugged at Julian's words, waving at one of them who gave him a wink.
Near the market, Stella softly played with a tambourine as Chloë browsed the options of a bohemian boutique. "You ever think about running away?" Stella quipped, entranced as she shook her wrist softly to make a sound, not looking up as she spoke. "What? Oh please, you're so melodramatic." Chloë scoffed, chuckling at her words. She knew just how much little things affected her thought process. "No, I'm serious, like you don't ever think of going to Arizona or something. Or like, Joshua Tree? Just going out there and standing in the sun."
New York's compact concrete jungle sometimes felt borderline claustrophobic. Despite having everything a teenage girl could ever want, her head was lead astray with dreams of running as far as possible from the chaos of her daily life. Her chaste interaction with Julian made her want to bolt, bolt as far as she could, to find somewhere to feel small and endless in. There was a certain restlessness that came with adolescence, the sudden ghosting had left her even more of an insomniac. She knew it was childish to be thinking about it so often. They barely knew each other, if he wasn't interested, she shouldn't be either. The indecisiveness paralyzed her in fear while simultaneously exciting her.
"You need to go to one of those yoga therapy cults," Chloë laughed softly, "Led by Jim Morrison or something." Stella smiled, "I've always wanted to be a witch. Use my powers on people." Her best friend rolled her eyes, "You have a way of making everything about him. Let it rest, Star." She sighed, "Jim Morrison was hot." The girls chuckled in agreement, Chloë nodding as she tried on a headscarf, "You got that one right. The lizard king."
As the house slept, Stella wrote on her bedroom floor, trying not to be too loud with the guitar. Much to her dismay, Courtney cracked the door open, rubbing her eyes sleepily. "Stella," she yawned, "What time is it honey?". Her eyes trailed to the clock, 1:58. "It's late. What are you up to with that guitar, it's not the quietest you know?" She entered the room, seeing the papers sprawled on the floor, fountain pen almost bleeding onto the carpet. The lights were off except for the scone near her nightstand, a vintage art nouveau design casting a pink glow across the walls. Draped in fabric and tapestries, some old posters, a photo of her friends. "Writing." She murmured sheepishly, "I didn't mean to wake you." Courtney sighed and nodded, rubbing her hand across her face. She could see the reflection of her late husband in that young face. This wasn't uncommon for him; his writing bursts came best late at night. Years later his protégé scribbled all over her wooden floor, dripping in confusion and frustration. "There's school tomorrow, get to bed." Somber eyes trailed over the loose sheets and guitar picks before looking up at her daughter's face. She couldn't believe how fast she was growing and how many amazing opportunities she was garnering. "You look just like your daddy." She grinned softly as her eldest picked up the papers, putting her guitar away. Stella gave a faint smile, hesitantly pausing before giving her mom a hug, "Goodnight mama."
