The door is opened before I arrive.
Lyla is still blond, and even though now fifty-one years old, her face is unlined.
Her famously curvy body is clothed in wide-legged, Carolina-blue lounge pants, a white tee with a deep V-neck and a long, cream duster cardigan.
Her feet are in pink UGGs.
She has diamond studs in her ears. The diamonds are large, but not ostentatious.
And she has a necklace that is a cursive word with another diamond at the end of it sitting at the base of her throat.
The word is: Lynie.
Lyla:
[Off tape]
Can you start with why you’ve decided to speak with me? You’re famously silent on all subjects.
A lot of people have a lot of things to say about my life.
I figure it’s time to set the record straight.
Lyla:
[Off tape]
I have a number of questions, but with Jesse, he’s told the story from beginning to end. I’d like to ask you to do the same. But can you start in Chicago?
[Turns head to look out the window]
Chicago.
You’d been brought by Tom Mancosa to—
[Turns head back]
I remember Chicago.
[Shakes head]
[Whispering] Preacher.
I ran out.
I don’t know what I expected.
Amber got their album. She listened to it. She was livid. So angry.
She and Jen talked about whether to tell me, make me listen, but then they heard “Give Then Take” on the radio and they decided I’d hear it eventually and it would be better for them to tell me and be around when I heard it.
And they were around when I heard it.
So, I don’t know what I expected, because obviously, he’d gotten it wrong.
And he was very, very angry.
It was Jen’s idea to go up to Chicago.
Not with me.
Her and Amber, to find their way backstage and give him a piece of their mind.
I talked them down.
But then, the idea of going to Chicago for their show was in my head.
The Mustangs weren’t coming down to Indy, you see. Not on that leg. They were going east and would hit Indy on the swing back west. Which wouldn’t be for months.
I honestly didn’t think I’d get backstage.
I had no idea how I managed to get that far.
It was my first indication of just how powerful a pair of tits and a thick head of hair could be.
Especially when it came to anyone who had anything to do with rock ’n’ roll.
I should have left, when they refused to let me in their dressing room.
I also don’t know why I stuck around to watch them walk to their bus.
Maybe I just wanted to see Preacher in that place.
He’d made it, or he was making it, I knew how very much it meant to him to do that, and I was hurt.
But I was glad for him.
And then when Tommy came to me and said Preacher wanted to talk to me, I should have walked away.
And when we were in the back of that limo and I could tell we were wasting time, driving around, I should have asked them to take me to the train station or just asked them to drop me off right where we were so I could grab a taxi or find my way to the L.
There were a lot of “should ofs” in my time with Preacher McCade.
But I didn’t do any of that.
I went with Tom to the hotel.
I rode up the elevator with him.
And I walked into that room and saw Preacher with those girls.
Then I ran away.
“Lyla! Goddammit! Lyla!”
Okay, all right.
Walk fast.
There were taxis on the street in big cities.
Walk fast to the street and get a taxi.
Wait, there were probably taxis at the hotel.
Should I go back?
Did I have enough money for a taxi?
I didn’t know. I’d never paid for a taxi.
What if I didn’t?
I had money to take the L to the venue, return ticket, which meant getting back, something I’d already bought.
And I had money to buy coffee and breakfast on the train on the way home.
When did my train leave?
It was ten. Maybe ten fifteen.
The next morning.
That was hopeful.
That Preacher would talk to me and I’d need a train out the next day.
But they had a lot of trains from Chicago to Indy.
Maybe I could get on the next one. Maybe it didn’t matter what time the ticket you had said, as long as you had a ticket.
I felt the fingers close around my arm.
I jerked it when they did, hard.
I also looked back.
Was his name Jesse?
Yes, Jesse.
God, I didn’t even really know their names.
Why was this such a big deal?
One night.
One night with some guy in a band.
A couple of sips of coffee the next morning.
Why was this such a big deal?
“Hang on, Lyla.”
He still had his hand on me.
“Let me go.”
“Come back.”
Was he insane?
Come back?
And what?
Take a number?
I shook my head.
“No,” I said. “No way. I’ve gotta catch a train.”
“I’ll get you to the station. Hell, I’ll get you back to Indy. Just come back. Talk. Yeah?”
“No,” I repeated.
His expression changed.
“Why are you here?”
Why was I there?
Good question.
“I don’t know,” I told him.
“You heard the album.”
Yes.
Oh yes.
I’d heard the album.
“Night Lies” was my favorite.
That was why I was there.
“This was a bad idea,” I said to Jesse, pulling at my arm.
“There’s a reason you’re here and there’s a reason why Preach did not walk right by you and get in that bus and go on with his night and leave you in his rearview. Now,” he let me go, “it’s up to you whether you want me to fix it so you both can sort out whatever shit is goin’ down.”
I turned and started walking away.
I stopped when Jesse jumped in front of me.
“Shit, I didn’t think you’d go,” he muttered.
“Get out of my way, please,” I requested.
“Listen, Lyla—”
“You know, he got it wrong, and you know, he could have freaking called to know how wrong he was getting it.”
I then moved to sidestep Jesse because I really did not like the look on his face when I said all that.
“Okay, okay, yeah,” he said, walking beside me. “I think he got it wrong, Lyla. Let me make it so he can make it right.”
“I don’t want him to make it right,” I lied.
“Okay, my girl is here from Indy and I haven’t seen her in months and I’m out here with you, without a coat, and it’s fuckin’ cold, and it’s about to rain, and I’d rather be in there with her, so do me a solid here, yeah? Come back with me.”
I kept walking, with him beside me, and pointed out, “I’m not stopping you from going back.”
“Where are you going?”
I had no idea.
Damn.
I stopped and looked around.