Sex, Money, and Fame

Since the dawn of time, women have wanted to fuck rockstars. Caroline is no exception.

Eighteen- year old Caroline Abrams stands in the crowded mosh pit, watching the smoke clear.

The spotlight shines on twenty-two Desdemona Potts. The curvy brunette with the mocha skin and dark eyes, that make all the hairs on Caroline’s body stand up.

“You know it gets cold on the streets I sleep on,” Desdemona speaks into the microphone. “A lost soul without a home.

Hoping someone would find me.

Feed me.

Take care of me.

Maybe even love me.

I wander alone in the dark every night.

Living on the scarps of human affection

The stray black cat I’ve always been.”

Caroline thinks Desdemona Potts is the greatest poet since Shakespeare.

Desdemona pulls on her guitar strings and slowly begins to play. She sings in a deep voice into the microphone. Her curly brown hair with messy red and blue highlights hang on the sides of her face. Her big brown eyes filled with mysterious rage.

“I’m an outcast. I get it.

I’m not asking you to save me.

You don’t have to understand me.”

She sings confidently, her ripped jeans are tight and her T-shirt is loose. Her beat picks up. Caroline sees lightning bolts and rainbows.

“I’m a black cat. And I can’t change that.

Unwanted. Unlucky. Unloved.

Black Cat.”

Desdemona looks into the crowd. Caroline swears that Desdemona is looking right at her. And when Caroline looks into her eyes and hears her voice it’s like magical air molecules fly all around her. For these two minutes, they are the only ones in the arena.

“Can. you. see. the scars on my. Arms?

Tell me. Am I. Still bleeding?

Holy fuck. Here comes the rain.

I guess the rapture is coming.”

Her voice gets a bit quieter, curling her lips. Lighting Caroline’s fire even more.

“I’m left behind.

No fucking surprise.

I’m a black cat. And I can’t change that.”

The music stops and Caroline is snapped back to reality by a scream. Some redhead has climbed on to a man’s shoulder. Screaming her head off, the redhead lifts her white T-shirt up and exposes her breast.

What a desperate move. Slut. How dare she flash Caroline’s soul mate?

Desdemona cracks a smile, “Thank you.”

Blood continued to rush down Desdemona’s body. Her already tense body hardens. Sex is the perfect after-show ritual.

Desdemona’s eyes admire the redhead’s breast.

“I always try to leave an impression,” The redhead bats her eyes, leaning on the closed door of the dressing room.

“More like two impressions,” Desdemona chuckles, licking her lips as she approaches her. “And is that a southern accent I hear?”

“I just moved to LA from Alabama,” She says puckering lips, as their noses touch. “I hear your accent too. You’re from Texas, right?”

“Yea,” Desdemona whispers, before kissing her red lips.

Their tongues quickly become intertwined. Heat rippling through their bodies. Desdemona puts her hands on the small of her back.

“I’m Darla,” The red-head says as she slightly pulls away. “I’ve always wanted to screw a big rock star.”

“I’m not that big. I only have one album,” Desdemona slides her hand under Darla’s shirt.

“But it’s a hit album,” Darla moves her hand over Desdemona’s stomach.

“It’s a start,” Desdemona says, taking off Darla’s shirt.

No bra. Desdemona gasped at the best tits she had ever seen.

“So I’m going to warn you now. I don’t do relationships,” Desdemona says grabbing Darla’s nipples.

Darla knocks Desdemona down on the couch and stokes the outside of her jeans.

“Oh after you have me.” Darla says as Desdemona arches her back as Darla almost rips her pants off, “You’re definitely come back for more.”

Desdemona flips Darla over to the couch and gets on top of Darla.

Desdemona admires her beautiful blue eyes, her full red lips, and long red-orange hair. Then she turns her attention to Darla’s beautiful breast and gorgeous curves. Desdemona kisses her lips then moves left to her ear.

Darla lets out a small giggle. Desdemona knows she is on the right track.

She makes her way down, kissing Darla’s neck to her nipples. With her free hand, she slides in to Darla’s jeans, but just to feel inside. She knows to wait until Darla is properly wet.

Darla gasps, “That’s good.”

Desdemona loves having all this power, her own body now hard as a rock.

She gently inserts a finger into Darla, careful not to over stimulate.

Darla’s beautiful lips pucker and she nods her head.

Desdemona knows when to speed up. She changes the rhythm of her fingers.

Darla’s body jerks and she moans. Desdemona feels Darla’s body tightening.

She kisses Darla’s lips again and changes the direction from circles to left and right.

“Des” Darla gasps, “De...oh”

They both know what is coming.

Desdemona moves her fingers in fast and rough until…

“Oh Desdemona,” Darla beautifully screams and every muscle in her body is released on to Desdemona’s fingers.

Yep. Sex is the perfect after-show ritual.

Desdemona and her manager, Jeff sit in big chairs at Appleseed records. They sit across from Johnson and Smith. Johnson, a guy, who probably misses his blackberry. But he rolls up his sleeves, to make himself look “cool”. Smith, a woman, whose pants suit probably cost more than a car payment and who still thinks shoulders pats with still “in”. Smith puts her hands together.

“So we invited you two here today, to discuss the new album...we love what you’ve done so far..but we think...” She stops, trying to find the nicest way to continue.

“We want the next album to be gayer.” Johnson spits out.

Jeff bites his lip.

“Gayer?” Desdemona chuckles, “What does that mean? Isn’t it already pretty gay, if it’s made by a gay artist?”

Desdemona looks at Jeff. Jeff motions his hand downward, telling her to keep calm.

“We are open to changes,” Jeff says.

“Well we love your...spark,” Smith says. “But the songs you have submitted are...real downers.”

“A downer?” Desdemona says. “But I thought you liked being dark and edgy. I mean that’s what the fans like.”

Jeff shoots her a look and repeats the hand motions.

“But sure,” Desdemona nods. “How can I make it an upper?”

Smith rolls her eyes.

“Basically,” Johnson says. “Add some more gay shit.”

“Gay shit?”

“You know, throw it some rainbows and glitter or whatever.”

Desdemona takes a deep breath.

“We just feel,” Smith speaks again. “That if we are going to build you as a symbol of the community, we need to do it positively.”

Desdemona looks at Jeff.

“Go take a breather,” Jeff whispers to her.

Desdemona walks through the parking garage to find a quiet space. She looks out to the neighboring buildings and pulls her emergency joint out. Even the ugliest parts of Los Angeles, are still prettier than her trailer park back in Texas.

She inhales and holds the smoke in her mouth to get her lungs happy as quickly as possible.

She looks around the parking garage, thinking about how she wants to punch Johnson in the face. Then a guy walks her way, kicking the shit out of a random tin can, mumbling to himself.

He looked up and they awkwardly made eye contact. He looked oddly familiar.

“You...” Desdemona pulls the joint out of her mouth. “Want a hit?”

He looks around. They were the only ones there. He slowly walks to her. She hands him the joint. Though it seems apparent he doesn’t know what to do.

“Will it hurt?”

“You’ll cough. But just take it slow,” Desdemona puts the joint in her mouth, “Just put it to your lips and breathe slowly in through your mouth.” She says through her lips.

Jesse takes the joint and hits it. He starts coughing up a storm.

Desdemona pats him on the back and takes the joint.

“I’m...” She started.

“Desdemona Potts,” The boy said. “I know who you are, my sister is a big fan.” He held out his hand, “I’m Jesse. Jesse Abrams.”

Desdemona calmly shook his hand. She had figured out who he was. The son of Aaron Abrams, one the greatest rockstars to ever roam the planet.

“What brings you to Appleseed today?” Jesse asks her.

Desdemona pulls the joint out of her mouth and slowly blows the excess smoke out, “Bunch of tight ass suits wanting to talk down to me, they say my music is a real drowner.”

She passes the joint to him.

“Well, you do always sound....angry,” Jesse said, taking the hit.

She stares at him. Not sure if that was a compliment or an insult.

He passes the joint to her. She takes it.

“What about you?”

He shifted, crossing his arms, “The tight ass suits, want me to cover one of my dad’s songs, for this greatest hits album.”

“You sing?” She passes the joint.

“No.” he chuckled, “I can’t stand the music industry.”

“Yet I fucking love it.” She chuckles.

Caroline stands in the school bathroom at a sink, her brown hair in a messy pony, her aqua eyes on her phone. Dustin sits on the floor, rolling a joint and lights it.

“You want to suck on this girl.” Dustin hinted.

She grabs the joint and smokes it. He laughs as he guides his hand up and down her thigh. She just shakes her head.

“Stop.”

“Come on, not even a bj?”

She pushes him off.

“I’ll give you a blow job if and when I want to.”

She pulls a video up of Desdemona singing.

She passes the joint to him. He puffs.

“She seems cool.”

“She is awesome. I love this song.”

The door bursts open and a nun walks in sniffing in the room.

“Shit.” Caroline groans.

“Caroline Abrams, you put that out and go to the principal’s office now.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

“Excuse Me. Do I need to get the ruler?” The nun commands.

“Shove that ruler up your ass.” Caroline laughs.

The nun huffs.

Celia Abrams walks out of the school, swinging the door wide open.

Caroline walks behind her, “And you wonder why I’m ‘so dramatic’?”

“I don’t know what to do with you, Caroline. You’ve been kicked out of the best school in LA.”

“Because I don’t belong in school. I should be in the studio, starting my career.”

“Caroline you’re too young.”

“Daddy was doing tours at my age.”

“I don’t care. You’re not ready. And you’re going to school.”

Paparazzi run toward them.

“Caroline, Caroline is it true you got kicked out?”

“Caroline, Caroline are you on drugs?”

“Caroline, Caroline would your father approve of your bad behavior?”

She shot a dirty look at that one, she was about to flip him the bird when Celia pushed her into the car.

Music blasts through Caroline’s room as she paints her toenails black. She hears the banging on her door.

“Yo Care, dinner is ready.” her brother yells through the door.

She turns off the rock music and opens the door to see Jesse.

“Mom Is being a total bitch.”

“She’s always a bitch, according to you Caroline.” He tells her as they walk down the stairs.

“You’re so lucky you got to move out.”

“Because I’m going to college. Because I actually finished high school.”

Caroline rolls her eyes.

“Guess who I met?”

“Who?”

“Promise to keep it a secret?”

“Cross my heart hope to die,” Caroline says.

“Stick a needle in my eye,” Jesse goes on.

The siblings walk to their mother sitting at the oversize and over set dining table. They sit on opposite sides, next to their mother.

“How was your meeting today darling?” Celia asked her son before taking a small bite of salad.

“I met Desdemona Potts.”

“Shut the fuck up!” Caroline screams.

“Language” Celia bit.

Caroline rolls her eyes and turns her focus back on Jessie.

“What is she like?”

“She’s really nice and cool.” Jesse says, “She actually invited me to chill with her at this house party tonight...but I don’t know.”

Caroline slams her hands on the table, “You have to go and you have to bring me.”

“I don’t know.”

“Please. Pretty please.” Caroline pouts her lips and gives him puppy dog eyes.

“Fine.” He groans, putting his hands up.

Caroline walks in with Jesse. They look through the crowded house.

Caroline grasps as Desdemona walks, wearing ripped jeans and a leather jacket, in with a blunt in her mouth and....with that slut redhead from the concert beside her.

“Hey, Desdemona.”

“Hey, Jesse.”

Their eyes meet. Caroline feels her heart beating, staring into those big dark brown eyes, staring at her up and down with amazement.

“Des, this is my sister Caroline.”

Desdemona shifts and holds out the blunt.

“Y’all want some?”

Jesse waves his hand down, “We’re okay.”

“I want a hit,” Caroline says, taking the blunt.

Jesse’s eyebrow raised, “Care, you don’t have to.”

“I smoke weed all the time.”

“I don’t think you should...”

“No pressure here. I don’t make people do things they don’t want to do,” Desdemona says. “But if she wants to take a hit, puff puff pass.”

Jesse shifts between them, “Okay Care, if you really want to but don’t over do it.”

“Bro, please.” Caroline looks into Desdemona’s dark eyes as she puts the blunt to her lips and breathes in. As she takes a second breath in, she could see the corners of Desdemona’s mouth rise, to a little-impressed smile.

Caroline holds the blunt out in front of the group.

The redhead clears her throat and takes it. Giving Caroline a dirty look as she takes her hint.

“Why don’t we go dance, Desi?” The slut demands, grabbing Desdemona’s arm.

Desdemona takes the blunt from her.

“I don’t want to dance. I want to sit.”

The redhead rolls her eyes and looks at Jesse, “You want to dance with me?”

“I would love to,” Jesse says smiling, staring at her chest. He turns to Caroline, “You can come dance with us.”

“I’m going to go sit down too,” Caroline replied, her eyes shifting between Jesse and Desdemona.

“Okay but come find me if you need me.”

“I will.”

Jesse looks at Darla and smiles. She walks toward the dance floor. Jesse follows. Desdemona turns away and walks off. Caroline follows her, pushing herself through the crowd. Desdemona flops down on a couch in an empty room. Caroline sits down next to her.

“Hi.”

Desdemona takes the blunt out of her mouth and holds it out.

“You want another hit?”

Caroline takes it, “Yes.”

Caroline hits the blunt, “I’m a big fan.”

“Thanks.”

“I listen to your music all the time. Your lyrics are so dark...but like...scary soul-sucking beautiful.”

Desdemona nods, “Thanks.”

Caroline giggles.

“You good?“Desdemona scoots away, “How old you?”

“18.”

“Wow, don’t tell no one I’m letting them smoke.”

Caroline glazed in silence. Desdemona takes the blunt.

“I know, you must get like this all the time but...where does it come from?”

“Where does what come from?” Desdemona asks, taking a hit.

“Where does the music come from?”

“Truth?”

“Truth.”

“It comes from talking to the devil and bathing in virgin blood.”

Caroline’s eyes widened. Desdemona tilts her head and laughs.

“You’re kidding, aren’t you?”

Desdemona slightly nods.

“I’m a poet first. Poetry is the center of writing.”

“Who are your favorite poets?”

Desdemona huffs, “If you can name at least one poet, I’ll tell you.”

Caroline sits up, “Percy Bysshe Shelley.”

Desdemona lifts her eyebrows. Caroline nods.

“I like Romanticism. Love and beauty in nature,” Caroline says. “You?”

“I have a couple. Oscar Wilde. Nathaniel Hawthorne. Poe.”

Caroline nods, “So Mid Dark. Dark. And super dark.”

Desdemona chuckles.

“I like darkness I guess. It’s real. It’s primeval. It opens you up and makes you bleed on the page.”

Caroline gasps, “See right there. You are so good with words. I could never put words together like that.”

“You write?”

She took a breath, “Well. I try. I like writing. I swear if my hands were chopped off and I couldn’t ever write again...I would go completely insane, ya know.”

Caroline nervously looks back up. Desdemona is staring at her, smiling as she nods.

“I know exactly.”

“But I’m not as good as my dad,” Caroline says, taking the blunt.

Caroline felt like an idiot. Saying that to a total stranger.

Desdemona stares at her, puzzled. Not sure how to respond. Then she lifts her legs off the floor and crosses them.

“That shouldn’t stop you.” Desdemona finally says, “I bet your stuff is better than you think.”

Their eyes meet. Desdemona shifts closer and her arm reaches out towards her.

Desdemona grabs the blunt from Caroline’s hand.

“....Hey.” Desdemona calls out, “If you want help writing. I’ll help you.”

Caroline softens, pulling out her phone.

“Yea. I would love that.”

They exchange phones.

“I’m not doing much Monday. You wanna come over and show what you got?”

“Really? Yea, I would really like that.”

Desdemona hands Caroline her phone back, “Cool.”