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Becoming a Misfit hadn't been quite what Jetta would have daydreamed it to be. Struggling in a no-name band, she had imagined being at the top of the charts would involve fair quantities of sex, drugs, and rock'n'roll. Instead, it had turned out to be a kind of extended slumber party, with occasional brief flurries of rock'n'roll when Pizzazz got sick of Eric's whining about the need to cut and release tracks or when her ego needed a bit of boosting with a concert. It had actually been more chaste than most slumber parties Jetta had attended back in all Blighty (in which Jetta had got most of her kissing practice) which was a little disappointing.
Still, Jetta wasn't about to complain. The Misfits Mansion had turned out to be the best slumber party venue ever, and she lapped up the adoring crowds, the attention from the media and the chance to wreak havoc through the rivalry with Jem. It sure beat playing dingy pubs in Hull. And then there was Pizzazz, who oozed superstardom from every pore, and the stimulation of competing with Roxy over her attention. That was something Jetta definitely remembered from slumber parties back at school, competing over the most popular girl. Especially when there was the tantalising idea that, if you won a complete victory, the popular girl might pick you for kissing lessons – or for a supporting role in an interview on the telly, as it happened. Jetta was always at her best when playing up for attention.
That was the problem, really. At first, Jetta had been delighted when Jem took off, and the Misfits had acquired Starlight Music. Seeing Pizzazz at her best, gloating and glowing with triumph, was worth it. Riot going missing had been an added bonus; competing with Roxy for best-Misfit-friend had been fun, but Riot drained far too much of Pizzazz's time and mind-space for Jetta's liking. She hadn't realised, however, just how little of Pizzazz's attention there was going to be to share around.
She had not, for example, realised that planning for the next concert would take place with the ex-Stingers having made it to the cherished places next to Pizzazz before any real Misfit could. Jetta sulkily took a seat at the other end of the table by Roxy, who seemed almost sympathetic company at the moment, despite the aggressively crossed arms and legs. At least Roxy was a real Misfit and at least, unlike Stormer, she wasn't taking positive delight in sitting with the ex-Holograms like the traitor she was.
They also didn't seem to understand how concert planning went. Pizzazz would tell them what they were going to do, Roxy and Jetta would squabble a little over who got the most prominent position and the most solos, and Stormer would flutter around them trying to make peace. Above all, no one was supposed to actually argue with Pizzazz.
"So we're gonna lead off with 'Universal Appeal'," Pizzazz declared. "And then –"
"Bu there's no synthesiser track in that!" Kimber wailed. "What am I supposed to do?"
"I have a few suggestions," Roxy muttered under her breath, just low enough for Jetta to catch it, but Stormer was already leaping to her friend's defence.
"She's part of the Misfits now, and we need to include her."
Pizzazz, who was not used to so much discussion when she told her Misfits what to play, looked slightly disconcerted. "Whatever," she said. "Figure out your own part in the song. You can write music, can't you? Next, 'I am a Gi-'"
"If the Holograms are Misfits now, then I don't see why we shouldn't do some of our songs," broke in Aja, her expression defiant.
"We'll perform 'We can make a difference' over my dead body," snapped Pizzazz. "Third, 'Gimme Gimme Gimme'. Fourth –"
"Well, what about something Kimber's written more recently?" Aja pursued doggedly. "She's written some really rocking things lately, and they have synthesiser tracks."
"Kimber's a really good writer," Stormer put in softly, and Kimber simpered at her, earning a glowing smile in response. Roxy glared at them as if the only thing preventing her from violence was deciding which one to throw a chair at first.
"We did smashingly without a bloody useless synthesiser before," Jetta said.
"Yeah." Roxy sent her a sidelong glance. "We did just fine before the sax, too." But there was no real rancour in her voice; she seemed much more concerned with sending killing looks at the interlopers.
"Well, you have two synthesisers now," came Minx's purring tones. She pulled her chair a little closer to Pizzazz's and wound an arm around her neck, her sheet of golden hair falling against Pizzazz's shoulder. "And in me, you have the best in the business. Pizzazz, darling, if the Misfits are to break into the European charts, it is essential that we have a sophisticated synthesiser-led sound. You cannot expect these provincial Americans to understand."
"Who are you calling a Yank, ducky?" Jetta pushed to her feet, not liking the way Minx was snuggling up to Pizzazz. It seemed that, in Riot's absence, Minx would play up to any lead singer around.
"Shut up, Jetta. We can really break into the European charts?" Pizzazz seemed to like the idea.
"We can top them," Rapture assured her, moving in closer as well. "I have looked into my charts, and it is in the stars that the Misfits will be the greatest band in not only America but the world, if you will only let yourself be guided by us. The crystals have foretold it. Believe in my powers, Pizzazz."
"Huh," said Pizzazz, but she looked pleased the future Rapture was predicting. She also didn't seem to object to the fact that both the ex-Stingers were draped over her shoulders now, clinging to her as they formerly clung to Riot. It made Jetta want to spit; couldn't the two of them even sit down without being propped up by a third person?
She glanced sideways at Roxy, to see that however irritated she was, it was nothing to Roxy's barely controlled rage. Roxy's face being set in a scowl was not unusual, but her eyes were practically spitting plum fire and even her platinum-white mane seemed to be bristling. Her fists were clenched on her thighs and Jetta could have sworn she was shaking slightly with rage.
"Well, whatever," Pizzazz said. "I'm bored with songs – we can figure them out lately. Now, on to more important things. What are we wearing? "
"I design most of the clothes for the Holograms," Shana said quietly, her face flushing still darker as she anticipated the reponse.
Even Stormer shrieked with disdain. "We wear designer threads – none of your home made rubbish!" Pizzazz said.
"My clothes were good enough for you in Venice, if you remember!" Shana said hotly. "But if they're not good enough unless you've stolen them, Regine has been designing some exclusive clothes for us lately."
"Regine? That has-been?" Rapture shook her golden ponytail in disgust. "You've got to be kidding. I'm not wearing her stuff. It's bad luck."
"You were proud to model her clothes before!" said Raya.
"That's exactly it. The little Regine, she is so very last season," Minx said dismissively. "All those bright, ugly colours – so gauche." Roxy, who was wearing a tasteful combination of neon orange and purple, and Jetta, who was wearing lime and dayglo yellow, glared at her. "We need to be monochromatic – sublime. Let me introduce you to a friend of mine, Pizzazz, a most exclusive designer –"
Jetta closed her eyes and tuned out. As she usually did when she felt threatened, she replayed the memory of when the Misfits had first found her – one moment losing her rag over that crap, ungrateful Yank audience, the next Pizzazz bursting onto the scene like a flash of neon green sunshine, transforming the dingy little club into a star venue, and sweeping Jetta up along in her wake, centre of attention, snatched from obscurity into stardom... And Roxy, glowering and gorgeous and shaping up for a fight, her purple eyes flashing, a worthy foil if ever there was one...
"I'm sick of this," Roxy said, cutting into the growing squabbles over costumes. She climbed to her feet. "I'm going for a swim. Jetta?"
Jetta was surprised enough to be asked that she was on her feet before she thought about it. "I'm with you, ducky," she said. "Pizzazz – let me know when you've finished dressing up your new dolls." She slipped her arm into Roxy's with an odd feeling of companionability.
"I can't take much more of this," Roxy spat as they made their way up the stairs. "It's bad enough babysitting the Starlight brats, but the way those girls crawl all over our Pizzazz makes me sick. Especially that little German tramp."
Jetta shrugged. "I suppose you wish you were the one cuddled up to Pizzazz?" It came out without really thinking, and she cursed the instinct to needle. It was kind of nice, feeling like she and Roxy were allies for once, and she had probably spoiled everything by being bitchy at the wrong moment.
"And you don't wish it was you?" Roxy shot back, and Jetta felt the colour rise through her pale skin. It had been the first time, she realised, that she had Roxy had come close to openly acknowledging the rivalry between them and its cause.
"Don't know what you mean, lovey," Jetta said lightly, trying to dodge around Roxy to her room. She was stopped by a hand gripping her upper her arm, and looked defiantly up at Roxy, trying to ignore that Roxy would quite definitely see the blush, even under three layers of foundation. She cursed the translucency of her skin.
"Yeah, right." Roxy glared down at her, the grip on Jetta's forearm tight, and Jetta felt a little light-headed. Roxy's grip was very hard – well, it should be, out of all of them she was most serious about working out – and under the thick tangerine lipstick her mouth was still set in a sullen pout, but it was a gorgeous pout for all that. And she had just all but admitted that she had a thing for Pizzazz, and that she suspected the same – inclinations – of Roxy. Jetta felt a flash of defiance. If Stormer could wander around hand-in-hand with Kimber, who was the enemy...
"Guess we're both wasting our time, huh?" Roxy said, bitterly.
"Yeah." Jetta swallowed. "I suppose we'd be better off if..." Roxy's hand was digging in to her upper arm. Jetta let her lashes droop down a little, and parted her lips, raising her mouth just a little...
"Roxy, has Jetta made you mad?" Jetta blinked, disconcerted, and looked down at a small girl with smooth black hair, who was looking at them with a worried expression. "We're not allowed to fight here."
Jetta half expected Roxy to bite the little girl's head off, but to her astonishment Roxy smiled. It wasn't a fierce Misfits grin, but rather a flash of sweetness as she released Jetta.
"It's okay, Ba Nee, we're not fighting. We were just about to get changed in to our swimsuits."
"Can I come swimming too?" Ba Nee was practically bouncing on her tiptoes in anticipation.
"Go get changed, then."
The little girl bounced off, and Jetta swore under her breath, all the more violently for a sense of disappointed frustration. "Bloody rugrats! You can't go a step in this dump without tripping over a bleedin' orphan!"
"Ba Nee's okay," Roxy said, still more oddly. "Go get changed. I'll see you by the pool." Her door had banged behind her before Jetta had fully realised she'd gone. Jetta blinked, sighed, and went to change.
Roxy was already there by the time Jetta had made it down to the Starlight Mansion pool, although she showed no inclination to actually get into the water, probably for fear of messing up her heavy makeup. Or perhaps she had just, Jetta thought bitterly, been put off by the hordes of foster sisters Ba Nee had brought with her, who were splashing and squealing in the pool. Instead, Roxy had taken a seat on a sun lounger, hugging her knees to herself, staring broodingly out over the water and not acknowledging the arrival of a fellow Misfit.
Jetta settled next to her, carefully arranging her long silver-streaked hair around her shoulders to best advantage. Not that she cared what Minx thought, but somehow her new khaki and turquoise flowered bikini had seemed less attractive to her, and she had settled on a black one piece that toned with her hair.
She stared at Roxy, resplendent in a pink-spotted ruffled two piece, and tried to think of a topic of conversation. It was harder than she'd planned; she spent little time alone with Roxy, and the only topics that came to mind were impossible. Hey, Roxy, I really hate being at Starlight Mansion, did you notice the way Raya looks at me like a murderer and pulls the Starlight Girls away from me every time I come near? I mean, I know I had her father's place busted up a bit, but that was weeks ago, you'd think she'd have let it go by now. Somehow, Jetta didn't feel that she could confide in Roxy how embarrassed and guilty she felt around Raya – Roxy was hard as nails, like most bass guitarists, and she'd just laugh. Or what about: Hey, Roxy, think Pizzazz is going to fire us soon? But Jetta was sure that wouldn't mean as much to Roxy as it would to her. Roxy had a gorgeous voice, possibly better than Pizzazz's, and was star material all on her own – and she'd chucked up the Misfits once before, anyway. Jetta didn't know what would be left for her without the Misfits. Creeping back to her parents in Hull, almost probably, without Pizzazz's lawyers to take care of her green card. It was impossible to make herself so vulnerable to Roxy, of all people.
Or then there was: Hey Roxy. You know I do my best to make your life hell, but I've always kind of liked you. Were you really about to kiss me back then? If so, would you like to try again? Jetta looked at the way the sunlight was making Roxy's pale hair glow against the golden tan of her skin despite the hideous swimsuit, then looked at the pool full of Starlight girls, and sighed.
"So, Roxy. You've known Pizzazz longer than I have. How long until she gets bored with this and fires them all so we can move back to the Misfits Mansion?"
"Dunno. Until it's too much like work, I guess."
"Stormer's having the time of her life, anyway. Do you know she and Kimber took those Starlight brats to the zoo yesterday? " Roxy snorted in reply, which Jetta thought was a bit rich given the way she had been practically cooing over Ba Nee, or at least what was practically cooing given Roxy's general manner. "I know she wants to keep the Holograms forever."
"I'd rather all the Holograms, even Jem, than the Stingers. At least Riot beat it."
That reminded Jetta. She looked curiously at Roxy. "The way those two always hang onto Riot – and when he's not there, too," she added, remembering the way that, when the ex-Stingers had been clinging to Pizzazz, Rapture had been covering Minx's hand protectively with her own. "Do you think that the three of them –"
"Yeah." Roxy didn't seem to be in any doubt about it.
"But without Riot?"
"If you're asking if they're sleeping together, then probably, yeah. Like Jem doesn't care what Rio does with that Jerrica beanpole because she's probably doing the same. Who the hell cares? They're all losers anyway." It was a long speech for Roxy, who was not particularly articulate. "So long as they keep away from Pizzazz."
Jetta licked her lips, which suddenly all the lip gloss in the world were failing to keep from dryness. But she wanted to know. "Are you and Pizzazz –" Jetta broke off, aware that a line had been crossed.
No explosion happened. "Nah," said Roxy, in tones that Jetta couldn't quite translate. "And don't you even try it."
Jetta looked out over the pool at the wet orphans, and tried to frame the words So, d'you think you could fancy me instead? Even in her head, it sounded naive, and just a way to open herself up to Roxy scoring a particularly brutal point. But, if Pizzazz was all occupied by the Stingers -
"There you two are!" Pizzazz was shrill and breathless. "Jetta, Roxy, you gotta save me. These little brats keep saying I have to play with them!" She spread her arms in outrage, a little girl dangling off each one.
"Jerrica always took us for exercise in the afternoon!" said the girl on the right, a fragile looking thing with blonde plaits. "And you're supposed to be our foster mothers." Pizzazz visibly blanched.
"Yeah. I'm going to tell the judge on you," said the mullet-haired child Jetta already has identified as Ashley.
"There's a croquet set in the garden room," said the braided child, clinging to Pizazz's left arm and looking expectantly at Jetta.
Jetta looked blankly at her. "What's that got to do with me, ducks?"
"The fan magazines said you were close friends of the Royal Family, and they all know how to play croquet. You wouldn't want me to tell Lindsay Pierce you were lying, would you? I bet she'd like to run a feature article exposing you on Lin-Z. She's a friend of Jem's, I know her phone number," said Ashley, who Jetta was beginning to dislike intensely.
Jetta glanced across at Roxy, who was grinning with delight at her discomfiture, all alliance apparently dissolved. Jetta squared her shoulders. Right, if it was back to that, then, there was no way Jeta was going to lose face in front of both Pizzazz and Roxy, not to mention the Jem-loving Lindsay Pierce-types in the rock press. She stood up and cupped her hands over her mouth.
"Right, kiddies, out of the pool. Aunty Jetta's going to teach you all to play croquet!"
"Yaaaaaaay!" cheered what seemed like thousands of little girls.
Half an hour later, Jetta was beginning to lose her cool. "Look, it's dead easy. You swing the bat up like this," she raised her mallet high above her left shoulder, "keep your eye on the ball, and swing like this." The mallet hit the ball with a dull thud, and it shot about three feet up in the air, causing Ashley, to Jetta's vindictive pleasure, to squeal and skip out of the way. "The rest of you have to try and block it with your own bats. And if it goes in your opponent's hoop, it's a goal."
"Aunty Sheila?"
"What did you call me?" Jetta whirled on the small child with plaits, whose eyes widened innocently as Jetta and Pizzazz smirked.
"Um... Aunty Jetta?"
Jetta took a deep breath."Yes, Terri?"
"How do you score runs, again?"
Jetta was beginning to feel like she was losing the plot. "Um, when your ball goes through one hoop, you pick it up and run as hard as you can to the next hoop, while everyone else tries to stop you."
"Oh. That makes sense." Terri nodded wisely.
Jetta clapped her hands. "Right, then. Pizzazz goes first because she's old – coolest. Tally ho!"
"Tally ho!" the girls echoed obediently, and Pizzazz took a swipe. There were shrieks as a group of little girls fled the missile, then converged in on it, mallets flying.
Jetta leaned into Roxy's ear, and whispered through the white hair and miasma of hairspray, "Secret rule: ten points every time you hit an orphan."
"Twenty points if you hit Pizzazz," Roxy whispered back. Jetta shot her a surprised glance, then started to giggle.
"You're on. " They exchanged grins and headed into the fray.
Twenty minutes later, Krissie was holding a sobbing and terrified Ann, Deirdre and Jo-Ellen had retired with a sprained ankle and wrenched elbow apiece, and Pizzazz had stalked off in a tantrum after breaking a nail, but the others were still going strong. Roxy's poison green tights were ripped to display one hell of a developing bruise, Jetta had lost a stiletto, and various Starlight Girls were missing various items of clothing and were sporting bruises and knocked limbs, but the battle had become fierce. Every time the ball descended to the lawn, six mallets crashed down on it, the grass, other girls' mallets or any calves or feet within reach, to the accompaniment of shrieks and giggles. Intermittently a Starlight Girl would yell triumphantly when her mallet hit the ball through a hoop and she would grab the ball and sprint off while the rest of the pack screamed defiance and chased her down, swinging their mallets ominously. Jetta's hair was completely disarrayed, sweat was pouring into her eyes, and she realised she'd never had so much fun off-stage. She was even beginning to think that children weren't so bad after all and she might even be cut out to be a foster mother after all –
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH THE STARLIGHT GIRLS?"
"Hi, Raya! I scored a goal and three runs!" Ba Nee yelled gleefully, waving her mallet.
"Stop that and get inside this minute, young ladies!" Raya said. She was trembling with rage. "Krissie, please take Ann to Aja and ask her to run you all baths."
The Starlight Girls seemed to know when the gig was up. They trailed ruefully back into the house, Terri pausing to wave surreptitiously at the Misfits.
Raya watched them go in ominous silence, and then she rounded on the two other women. "How dare you?! You are supposed to look after the Starlight Girls, not turn them into screaming hooligans! And it's so dangerous!"
"We were only teaching them to play croquet," Jetta whined, and Roxy splurted with laughter.
"That's not how it's played!" Raya was breathless with anger. "I might have known it would be you, Jetta, you – you – violent thug! Get inside, both of you, or I swear I will call the police on you for child abuse!"
Jetta and Roxy trailed after the Starlight Girls, Jetta feeling absurdly like she had the first time she was caught pick pocketing at school and brought home in disgrace to her parents. She whispered as much to Roxy.
"Do you think Pizzazz will knock our blocks off like my Mum and Dad did?" She offered Roxy a secretive smile.
"I didn't go to school much, I don't know who my Dad is, and my Mom wouldn't have cared less," Roxy said shortly, and Jetta felt like she'd said something terrible without realising it. Her smile faded. "And neither will Pizzazz."
"Not that she cares about anything much but her super-super-band," Jetta said bitterly, and that was it; they were back where they were, grousing about Pizzazz. Jetta wished vehemently that they had the wild fun of a few moments ago back – only just the two of them, with no orphans.
Roxy might have picked up the thought, because she said, "Let's go find somewhere with no kids and no Holograms or Stingers, okay?"
"I'm with you, ducks. Preferably somewhere that serves alcohol and not chocolate milk."
"Nowhere Stormer hangs out, then?" Roxy gave her a lopsided smile. "We could try my room. "
"Oh." Jetta peered at her under her heavily mascara'd lashes, trying to work out if she meant drinks or... something else. What the hell, she decided. "Sounds smashing, love."
She felt decidedly brighter as they shut the door on the whole world of second-tier bands and little girls. Roxy gestured that she should sit on the bed, turning to produce a bottle and some glasses. Drinks, then. Jetta felt a little disappointed. They might as well go out and get blotto, and maybe get a bit of media attention – drinking alone in a bedroom wasn't really her style. Still, it was something to be on good enough terms with Roxy that they were voluntarily spending time together.
She sipped her drink, and Roxy bounced onto the bed next to her, making her giggle and nearly spill it. Slumber parties, again...
"Here's to the real Misfits," Jetta said, raising her glass and daring Roxy with her eyes to deny that Jetta was a real Misfit.
"The real Misfits!" agreed Roxy, clinking her glass against Jetta's. They drained the glasses, and set them on the bedside table. Jetta was a little surprised not to be asked if she wanted a refill, but Roxy was turning to her, expression serious – but not sulky.
"Are you serious about Pizzazz, Jetta?"
"What?" Jetta thought about disclaiming ever having any intentions towards Pizzazz, looked into Roxy's oddly coloured plum eyes, and wavered. She thought about Pizzazz – glittery, brittle, selfish Pizzazz, with her lime green hair and wicked green eyes and complete spoiled selfishness. "No... not really. It was just kind of fun getting her attention." She paused, wishing she had another drink. "You?"
"Yeah." Roxy was frowning, and Jetta vehemently wished the conversation had never taken this turn. She didn't want, somehow, to hear all about how much Roxy loved Pizzazz. Pizzazz was a real star, of course, not some random saxophonist Pizzazz had a brief crush on and had picked up. "I mean, she was always chasing guys, but we had so much fun together, I used to think – and then you came along, and hogged all her attention." Jetta decided that any apology would be both insincere and inadequate, but she really felt quite bad, seeing Roxy's expression. "And then – Riot."
"I know. She acts like a bloody fool around him, sometimes. Hey, do you remember when she was chasing him at the celebrity beach bash, love, and she fell over that soppy girl group, and you and I and Clash ended up in a catfight with them and made the front pages?" she added, trying to change the subject for the better. But Roxy was still unsmiling.
"I hate the way she acts around him," she said. "Like she's – nothing. And he's some lousy poser with too many girlfriends already, and she's - Pizzazz!"
Jetta bit her lip. "Roxy?"
"Yeah?"
Jetta thought about what she wanted to say, and everything she wanted to change, and how she wanted to explain that it was no good being in love with someone you couldn't have, especially when there was someone else who was really beautiful and fun and a worthy comrade in arms. It was all too complicated, so instead, she said, "That's too bad, chickadee" and wound her arms around Roxy's neck quite as if she was a clingy Stinger, and kissed her.
Roxy stiffened for a moment, then she relaxed and her lips parted so that it wasn't just Jetta kissing Roxy, but the two of them kissing. And it was quite, quite lovely... nothing like any slumber party kissing lesson, except for the taste of lip gloss. Roxy was kissing hard, with a kind of intenseness that bordered on desperation, but her hand was cupping the side of Jetta's face with unexpected gentleness, and Jetta could feel herself melting. She relaxed against Roxy, willing her to push her back on the bed, and she could feel the increasing pressure of Roxy's weight against her own when...
There was a knock on the door.
"Get lost! I'm busy!" yelled Roxy. She leaned in to kiss Jetta again."
"But, Aunty Roxy!" wailed a little girl's voice. "I need to talk to you!"
"Don't you dare," hissed Jetta, but Roxy was already up and opening the door.
"What's wrong, Ba Nee?" Jetta groaned into the pillow she'd flopped on to. She didn't know what it was with Roxy and this child, but the Misfit's hard-as-nails bass player was practically patting her on the head and giving her lollipops.
Ba Nee put her hands behind her back, looking up piteously. Two other Starlight Girls were looking curiously over her shoulder. Jetta sat up, and tried to pat back her dishevelled hair.
"Roxy, I – I have a confession." Ba Nee's eyes filled with tears. "I felt really bad about it, so I came to tell you."
"What is it, honey?" Roxy's voice was sugared with affection, and then and there, Jetta decided it was going to be her life's mission to have Roxy call her 'honey' in the same tone of voice.
"We really know how to play croquet. We just pretended we didn't so Jetta would show us what to do."
"What?!" shrieked Jetta. "You vile little rugrats! I'll have your knickers for breakfast! I'll hang, draw and quarter you! I'll get Eric to throw you in his special dungeon!"
Ba Nee wailed, and Roxy turned to glare at Jetta. "She doesn't mean it, Ba Nee. It's all okay – run along and play now."
"It's bedtime," the Starlight Girl called Ann informed her. "Will you come read us a story?"
Jetta, furious as she was with Roxy, felt a stab of sympathy as Roxy flushed darkly, but Ba Nee had already interceded. "Kimber likes to read us our bedtime story when Jerrica's away. Roxy will come listen too, won't you?" She started to cry, and Jetta had the horrible feeling that she wasn't faking it this time. "I miss Jerrica so much. When will she be back?" Terri began to sob as well.
"Soon," said Jetta. "Very, very soon, I hope."
Ba Nee smiled at her though her tears, and Jetta felt a moment's warmth. Maybe not too bad after all, these kiddies. At a safe distance.
"I gotta go," Roxy said, over her shoulder.
"Yeah, I guessed," Jetta said nastily, wishing death and destruction on all platinum haired rock stars, and getting ready to return to her room.
"There's more bourbon in the bottle. Don't go anywhere, honey." Roxy flashed a dazzling grin at Jetta, and Jetta, her head spinning, flopped back onto her bed.
As the door closed she could hear a piping voice asking, "Roxy, what was Jetta doing in your bedroom?"
"We're having a slumber party."
"Can we –"
"No!"
Jetta, refilling her glass, started to giggle. Maybe Pizzazz didn't have enough attention to go around – but the next week or so was looking better.
And she really had always loved slumber parties.