“Guys, don’t you get it?” He shook his head, trying to make sense of the thoughts swimming in it. “She’s…”
“Son of a bitch, he married ‘Dark Angel’.” Jeff gasped. “That voice couldn’t belong to anyone else. We did a set with…” He slumped over, totally dumbstruck.
Over the ensuing hours, we explained how we came to be who we are and asked the guys to keep the secret as best they could. If Reyna was comfortable telling them our secret, I suspected this wasn’t her last appearance.
“Would you guys like me to sing with you again?” She asked, practically reading my mind. “I had a really good time. I’d forgotten how much of a rush it is.”
The unanimous opinion was if she wanted to slum with a backwater band of misfits, they’d be honored.
“I’ve started writing again, if you’d be interested in some original stuff.” She grinned.
“You do know you’re dangling a hamhock in front of a group of starving dogs?” I chuckled. “Even I’m smart enough to see the potential in that deal.”
All they could do was nod stupidly, amazed at their luck.
Later, after the guys left, we talked. “You really ready to go back in?” I asked.
“I think so.” She nodded. “But not as ‘Dark Angel’, I think she needs to stay dead, not even going to try that music again, I don’t ‘feel’ it anymore. The new stuff I’ve been tinkering with is quite a bit less brutal, some of it’s even happy. Guess I’m mellowing in my old age.”
“Are you worried about them finding out you’re not dead?” I inquired.
“I haven’t done anything wrong, technically.” She pondered. “I implied suicide, but it’s not illegal to change your mind, and I never concealed, or altered my REAL identity. ‘Dark Angel’ was my stage name, many performers have changed their personas.”
“You’re right.” I admitted. “I just remember how adamant you were about protecting your identity when we first met.”
“I was in a whole different place then.” She explained. “I was alone and scared. I didn’t have anybody. I have you and the kids now, I belong somewhere. I’m not afraid of them anymore.”
I still have a hard time believing just how strong she has become since we met. Deep down I was very proud of her even if I was scared shitless about the future.
That night as we lay in bed, Reyna snuggled into me, we continued. “What’s the plan?” I asked.
“Sing with the guys, if they’ll have me.” She giggled, knowing they’d be fools not to. “Beyond that, just see where it goes. Oh, and…” Her hand slid down my body. “I kinda owe you from the other night.”
We didn’t get much sleep that night. Reyna was hellbent on making up for leaving me unsatisfied the night of the first practice. I tried to tell her it wasn’t necessary, but it’s really hard to talk with a very excited woman sitting on your face. It had been a very long time since we’d fucked like that. She totally drained me, leaving me gasping and sweating in a puddle of our own making. We were both so exhausted we just fell asleep afterwards, waking in the morning, stuck to each other and the bed linens. A night I will long remember.
A few days later, a video of her performance hit the internet. Reyna was surprised. It hit over 5 million views in the first two weeks. A few had already started speculating that she was more than she seemed.
“Guess I still got it.” She beamed.
“Anyone that says otherwise has to fight me.” I chuckled.
The band got booked for a performance at a local venue several weeks later. Not huge, 500 seats or so, but they nearly sold it out. Due mostly to internet chatter about Reyna’s voice. They performed some covers, but a good amount of Reyna’s new stuff was included as well. It was a resounding success and they were invited back for a repeat the following month. That show sold out in less that 2 hours.
“We need to find a studio somewhere.” Reyna said after the show, sitting with the guys backstage. “The new songs are really taking off, we’re missing out on a lot of opportunity here. We can sell the CD’s at the shows and offer downloads online, but we need professional help. We also need a name for the band, something catchy and memorable.”
Watching four guys sit around and rack their collective brains is painful under ideal circumstances. This was absolute hell as, one after another, they threw out whatever oozed from their neanderthal minds. Most were stupid, several were offensive in general or to women in particular, then came the winner. Phoenix.
Reyna nodded, intrigued. “Where did that come from?”
“Think about it.” Explained EZ, he was the bass player, he’d look more at home in a jazz or blues band, but really brought something special when he played. “The phoenix would die, consumed by flames only to rise the next day from the ashes of its own destruction, reborn. Much like our esteemed lead singer here.”
“Hell yeah!” Jeff exclaimed.
“What’s a ‘feenicks’?” Biggs asked. Drummers don’t necessarily need to be smart. Biggs wasn’t going to win a Nobel Prize any time soon, but he was loyal and friendly and very, very talented.
Reyna hugged the tall, black man with tears in her eyes, then kissed him on the cheek. “I love it and I get the reference. It’s perfect. ‘Phoenix’ it is.”
The band played once a month or so, never more than an hour from home and started filling larger venues. In their second year, 2000 seat arenas filled in hours after ticket became available. With the influx of cash, studio space was rented and the first album was recorded. Sales were brisk as they became more widely known. The guys tried, unsuccessfully, on many occasions to get Reyna to take her share, but she staunchly refused, reminding them that her previous career left her with more than we’d ever need. Reluctantly, they agreed, but further discussions were not ruled out. Finally, the day I was dreading came. ‘They’ noticed.