Baja Zuma

Chapter 4

LAUREN'S P.O.V.

We sisters gathered around the big dining table for our band meeting. It was pleasant to have the elbow room afforded to six seated people instead of the dinnertime protocol of thirteen people. Dad was in the kitchen fixing himself a snack. We could hear him belting out his favorite Frank Sinatra song. He hammed it up, as always, when he got to the bit that goes, "I ate it up and spit it out." Yeah, oddly tensed as "spit" rather than "spat," but either way a goofy line of lyric, eh? I giggled anew over that part, though I had heard it around the house any number of times before. Old people. Jeez.

"First order of business, ladies. What should we record for our next cover song? Narrow it down to some artist, to start with," Christina instructed.

Simultaneously Lisa and Kath called out, "The Beatles," naming their favorite band of all time.

"Okay boomers," I said snarkily, shooting them a sideways glance, one eyelid lowered to a mere slit.

Dani wanted Bruno Mars. Amy wanted Taylor Swift. The rest of us politicked for our own choices. We finally agreed to pin it down later in our meeting, drawing straws if we couldn't work it out through persuasion.

Christina moved the meeting along. "Let's brainstorm some video projects, ladies. And merch ideas." Responses rang out rapid-fire from all directions around the table.

"Brother does our makeup."

"Make ourselves up to look like Ariana Grande."

"Hats as merch. With slogans on them."

"Arguments we have had with our neighbors."

"A photo shoot of us just for fan club members."

"I have one ear painted green in a video, and we see how long it takes for some fan to notice."

"We use a marker pen to write embarrassing stuff on Kath's arms while she's sleeping at the hotel—just before we perform at a concert."

That idea got a grumpy "Uh, noooooo" veto from Katherine.

"Fan sleepovers."

"Do a runway model's walk out in some busy public place without explaining why to the people there."

"Shorts with 'SWAG' written on the back."

"In the kitchen, our first time making baked Alaska."

"Most annoying habits of our siblings."

"A free concert on Santa Monica pier. We get a cut of the concessions."

"Identify the food your sister puts in your mouth while you are blindfolded."

"Skateboarding. No wait, walking on stilts."

We spent the next half hour comparing the merits of our various ideas. I took on the role of secretary, jotting notes about every idea that was at least halfway promising. We liked to sleep on things before finalizing decisions.

"How are you coming on an original song for us, Kath?" Christina inquired.

Katherine looked slightly annoyed. "Don't worry. I'll get it put together soon. I've got some ideas for the chord progression and the tempo. The rest will come to me after that."

"Now this is something from out of the blue," Christina informed us, her finger tapping on an opened envelope on the table. "It's a letter from the wax museum in Hollywood. They are asking how we would feel about them putting the six of us on display. What do you think about that?"

"Ew, that's creepy," Lisa opined. Katherine and Amy nodded assent.

I gave my thought on the matter. "If they waited until we were dead and gone, that would be okay I guess. But not now. Six ratties in a cage. I mean, I couldn't handle seeing myself frozen stiff behind glass like that."

"Yeah, basically my thought as well," Christina said. "I'll send them a polite no-thanks."

The idea of us in a museum made me think of old age. More specifically my own old age. "Can you see us touring on the oldies circuit? Ryman Auditorium, and we push Christina on stage in a wheelchair while launching into 'Party in the USA'."

"Wigs and lots of botox," Dani laughed.

"I hope I still own a pretty shawl for that concert," Katherine said with a subtle wink.

"Okay, as I said we need a cover song," Christina reminded us. "Only one. That shouldn't be too hard, should it?"

The way she said "only" made me think of "lonely," and I instantly recalled a truly touching song I had heard for the first time that week. J.D. Souther—or Southern, or something like that—was the singer. Early 2000s? Or even earlier than that? I wasn't sure how old it was. "Who's the boomer now," I apologized by way of introducing my idea for a cover. "See there's this song called You're Only Lonely." Their faces were blank; as I would have guessed, they didn't know the song.

I plinked some arpeggiated chords on the little Korg synthesizer on the table and sang the beginning of the song I had heard, tapping my feet hard on the floor to imitate the nice percussion pattern in the original—

When the world is ready to fall on your shoulders

and when you're feeling lonely and small

you need somebody there to hold you

Their mouths dropped. Unanimous it was for our next cover song.

As always, Christina wrapped up the band meeting by chirping, "Where are we going ladies?" Harmonizing a suspended chord we sang out our response jingle, "To the toppermost of the poppermost."