*****059:

Victorine Alissa Newport was not what I expected. I'd now met her sister, Laurel, who was tall, brunette, athletic and the outspoken homeschooling mother of six. Victorine was of decent height, platinum blonde with blue extensions, with a row of diamonds outlining each ear, and teardrop diamonds sparkling heavily against her cheek and all over both hands. She had big fake boobs, obvious right from the start, and a great big toothy grin. Her voice was heavenly, literally, sweeter and grittier than any other female singer I'd ever met.

The pretense that got her here, became very real, as Aubrey had not been kidding when she said she thought a couple of songs could use Victorine's voice. Her prestige wasn't our usual caliber of collaborator, but she wasn't exactly an unknown. And she was certainly very professional, her training was impeccable and her personality was not the kind of outspoken like her sister, who was loud and brassy. This girl exuded patience and creativity.

And she caught the instant attention of every guy in my band. Dead serious, she could have her pick, they all immediately adored her.

But she wasn't alone. She'd brought her entourage.

Justine Loritz was fairly tall with just as many piercings, although not all diamonds, her dark hair was cut very short, like a boy's and she wore it messed up like mine. But she dressed like a gauzy butterfly. She played guitar, and keyboards, and just about any horn I could think of. She didn't sing, but she did compose, and her quiet confidence appealed to Jeff right off. I think they hit it off within the first eighteen minutes of knowing each other.

The girls did not share one of the guest cottages, but preferred to stay in the dorm-like apartments Rosewood had built recently, to accommodate those who needed their own space. These were not as close to the main house or our place as the cottages, but Justine became an instant visitor to our place, where Jeff was staying.

Jeff and Justine were also very athletic and health conscience, Jeff quit drinking immediately upon meeting Justine, and they both frequented the gym every day. One could say they were an instant couple.

Rowanne Dove was harder to peg. She was the drummer, taller than all of us, at six two, she was bigger also--- not in a bad way, just--- a normal way. She was a big girl. She had short brown hair and fantastic eyes, no piercings, and no other jewelry at all. She was an impressive girl of about thirty, and had never been married. She was very devout--- her religion was all to her. And she somehow managed to make that known early on. No allowances.

Not like Aubrey had been about the cussing--- this was different. Kind of arrogant. The guys liked her on the surface, but didn't shine to her right off.

Aubrey was Mormon. She lived it. She didn't have to tell everyone she lived it. Except for the cussing thing and the occasional long answer to a question, she simply lived it.

This Rowanne didn't exactly live it--- she forced it.

Not cool.

In our world, there needed to be tolerance--- acceptance. Sometimes we walked a fine line around other musicians.

Rowanne had neither.

She frowned down her nose at Aubrey for allowing me to have tattoos. That was number one--- it caught us all off guard.

We were all at lunch in the cafeteria. Aubrey had joined us, leaving Abbie home with the kids for a little while. Jeff and Justine were off in a corner chatting earnestly, catching everyone's eye---- close scrutiny was paid them--- since everyone wanted whatever they were drinking.

It was the first time Aubrey had been down to formally meet the girls. So--- they'd been here already about four days.

Rowanne was sitting at our table, eating a large portion of stroganoff, as opposed to Victorine and Aubrey, and Chyma, (the last gal), eating sensible salads and regenerative herbs. I munched my veggies and steak--- always had my big meal at one—and here at Rosewood, only Macy could cook it. We were laughing, talking, joking around, that kind of very attentive guy joking we did when we were super aware of females around us.

Too bright, too noisy, too boisterous.

And in the middle of it all, this gal, Rowanne, comes over and plops next to Aubrey.

"Why do you let him have those despicable tattoos? They're against our religion, you know." Her voice was designed and toned so that others around would hear her. On purpose. It didn't register with my guys at first--- at least not openly. Jeremy was relaxed in a booth nearby texting Hannah--- he didn't notice at all.

Chyma, who was cute and little and blonde and very sensitive and aware gave a cut her neck sign behind Rowanne's back. Aubrey caught it and smiled gamely and ignored her, obviously hormonal enough for the fight.

"Allow? I don't allow or disallow my husband to do anything. That implies I control him somehow and Rafe is a grown man with lots and lots of ability all his own to make his own choices. I married him knowing exactly who and what he is. I love that about him." She leaned slightly into me, took a bite of her salad, and looked calmly at Rowanne's face.

Aubrey, I'd learned previously, had no trouble defending whatever she wanted to.

I grinned at Rowanne with my mouth full.

She gave me her superior down the nose look.

"Seriously, you could have made him take them off."

"That's a waste of perfectly beautiful art." Aubrey exclaimed. "I love his ink."

Rowanne stared at her speculatively. She'd failed to engage her in a slam the guy party. No common ground there. Victorine now noticed that Rowanne was challenging Aubrey and started to scoot her chair over. Mutt and Lance looked up. They'd been gabbing with Victorine and Chyma.

"Love his ink? That's disgusting! I would never allow the guy I marry to have that kind of marking on his temple."

Aubrey's eyes rose. "I guess, I prefer to look at what's inside, not what's on the outside to gauge what type of man I'm marrying."

I stabbed my steak with my fork and lifted it in amused salute to Rowanne's efforts. Chalk another one up to my wife. My wife, the goddess who loved my artwork---my ink as she called it.

"I'm sure the outside reflects what's on the inside." Rowanne gave me her own narrow-eyed gaze and I toasted her with my fork and a wink.

Aubrey stood up. "You are certainly entitled to your own opinion, Rowanne, nobody here is going to force you to marry someone that isn't up to your standards. I personally prefer to follow President Monson's advice and do my best to accept everyone. You'll find at Rosewood there are a lot of people who don't share your views."

"Yeah, I know. Rosewood has the rep of being too tolerant." She looked pointedly at Mutt and Lance sitting close to Victorine.

"Rowanne!" Victorine said low and firmly. "Shut up."

So, this was not unusual, and having to be reprimanded by the leader of the band, a good friend to boot, was kind of weird.

Aubrey, to her credit, just shrugged. I knew the comment about Rosewood would get her dander up. She'd picked up her tray to deposit it on the tray conveyer belt. "There is a studio at BYU. Maybe you should continue your recording and composing there." She suggested, letting Rowanne know her pristine and very strict opinions were her own. "Rosewood's rep will remain intact whether you choose to come here or not."

Mutt burst out laughing having taken the remark as Aubrey intended it, I'm sure. It could have been taken a second less demeaning way as well. Rowanne stood up, grabbed her tray and started to stalk out.

Victorine jumped up to go and talk to her.

Aubrey watched them go and then came back to my side, scooting her chair closer. I laid my arm along her seat back and tickled her, having finished my food.

Chyma slid closer as did Mutt and Lance. "I'm sorry. Rowanne can be very judgmental."

"Oh, I don't care." Aubrey assured her.

"She really doesn't." Lance gibed, relaxing in his plastic chair. He gave Mutt a very interested stare, and I felt my stomach clench just a little. It could have been the steak, it could have been Rosewood's rep.

"What do you mean?" Chyma asked interestedly.

"Rosewood is a little more liberal than BYU, I'm sure." Lance continued. I knew he had found nothing but acceptance at Rosewood, and had been included as a member of the family right from the start, even more so than my band.

He was here with me, not the band, but he'd been a great help in the studio doing little things that needed to be done. He was very thoughtful and anticipated needs easily. He was also very good at moving equipment and setting things up. He'd been doing it a long time.

Chyma's eyes were very interested. "Rosewood accepts homosexuals?" She was blunt.

But in her defense, Lance broadcast fairly loudly.

Aubrey smiled, resting a hand on her belly. "Rosewood is a recording studio and counseling center for those in the entertainment field who need respite and refreshment from the outside world. Being in the entertainment field in all its varieties can be very taxing and hard on relationships." She sounded like a walking talking brochure.

"But Rosewood's rep is predominantly LDS, isn't that right?" Chyma smiled, hoping to catch the other guys eyes. I'd seen her looking at me once or twice--- that might be celebrity awe, but also at Ben, who was now pulling up his chair, and joining the conversation, away from his self-imposed sulking. Aubrey's fingers squeezed my leg.

I thought it appropriate that I be the one to answer. "A lot of LDS artists come here, it's true. Rosewood has that element for those who need the religious side of things, but Axis came here when we were not members of the church, and I've met plenty of others who are not members here."

"I realize that. I think Rowanne was referring to the fact that Rosewood actively allows people of anti-Mormon persuasion."

"I'm not anti-Mormon." Mutt said.

"But you're not a member."

"I don't have to be a member to be here."

"I know! I get that. I think Rowanne thought Rosewood was more straight-laced."

"Straight, that's funny."

Aubrey sat forward. "Rosewood is a recording studio. We aren't here to judge people's sexual behavior. I think everyone who comes here signs a release stating that they agree to abide by moral and considerate behavior while in public, or in the public places here."

"Have you had anybody challenge that?"

She shrugged. "You'd have to ask the studio manager, and at the moment, I'm not sure who that is. I'm a doctor, I haven't ever--- well--- I take that back, one time I did record here. But mostly I don't record here."

"I guess I don't care that much. Rowanne is more concerned with people she feels represent themselves as one thing who aren't. She thinks some Mormons are hypocrites."

Everyone there sat up straighter. I smiled and blinked long and slow, pursing my lips. "No one at Rosewood is a hypocrite, Chyma. The Mann's live their religion, they don't force it on people in their business. But they are as upstanding Mormons as I can imagine. I would caution Rowanne to keep her mouth under control and not---."

Victorine came back and took her chair having heard our last statement.

She held up her hand. "You get us wrong. Look at me--- do you think Rowanne and I don't have a few differences?"

She was referring to her own multiple piercings, and heavy make-up and jewelry. Not that Mormonism dictated any of those things specifically, but I knew that a past prophet had once warned young women about following fads including too many piercings and tattoos.

I laughed, and conceded that if Rowanne was indeed as straight-laced as she seemed to be she would have difficulties with her band leader.

"I don't have issues with following trends, or making them." Victorine laughed and flipped her two-tone platinum and blue hair.

I saw at least three of my guys give her their full attention. Chyma slid back to a less prominent position. But I saw Ben still looking at her.

"I would guess that more people have issues with you, Rafe Stryker. You've led a very spotlighted life. How did you come to be here?"

I grunted. "Besides the fact that my wife grew up in the main house? Yeah, I get what you're saying." I smiled winningly, she turned beautiful greenish eyes on me, that I realized instantly were contacts. "I guess in my earlier years I was a little bit of a douche." Aubrey winced, and the guys laughed. "Um all right, a lot of a douche. There's a lot of evidence pointing to my douche-hood. But you have to see where we came from. We were a garage band, Victorine, a real live honest to goodness garage band. We had an incredible break in high school, and we took it, and ran with it. But we were shitty--- excuse me--- but we were shitty. We were like a shitty version of Weezer, you know, trying to be alternative radio. We didn't know who we wanted to be. We tried all kinds of shit. We did it all. And we kept being positive--- we believed we were going to be famous rock musicians. We never gave up --- even when our friends in cool bands were horrified at our deviants. We went from Eddie Vetter to Green Day to mimicking Phish and Dave Matthews. And we sucked, we really sucked."

They were completely enthralled.

I shook my head. "I finally found a niche. I got turned on to Stevie Wonder--- this kind of bouncy Motown inflected pop music. My register is way more tuned into Michael Jackson than Steven Tyler though. We took ourselves from sleeping on the floor in our friend's houses and practicing all day and all night, smoking weed and not having any girlfriends, to finally catching that bizarre airwave that catapulted us to the top of a brand new genre. I'll admit it. I went from dead broke to having a little bit of money in the bank. It was overwhelming. I went a little f-ing nuts, okay? And good." I knew I sounded defensive as I looked at Aubrey who was as enthralled as the rest of them. "I deserved to go a little nuts. And I had the time of my life. And dammit--- I love women!"

"Dude, that's douche shit." Mutt said softly.

"Yeah, well you were there, idiot. And I didn't say it like I love women--- like----." I did the crudest gesture I remembered from different days for the guy's benefit, and the girls around me scrunched up their noses. "I didn't say it like Fabio."

"You sure liked women." Ben agreed.

"Shut up."

"If you're going to reveal the extent of your women fetish right here in front of all these cute little Mormon girls and your wife, then I'm going to be here to pick up the pieces."

"I'm not." I said and laughed, caught up in my own explanation. "My wife knows it all anyway."

"I'm sure she doesn't." Jeff announced coming to join the circle with Justine in tow.

"And I'm not going to hear about it right now, right?" Aubrey laughed. "We were discussing how you came to be here."

"And that started with where I was before I came here." I nodded and settled in for the rest of the story. "So, I had a wild oat sewing adolescence. There was a time in my life when I lived probably a bit on the primal level, and that was likely the foundation for all the negative shit I get. I was out there having fun and I didn't care how media trained and boring I was supposed to be. It didn't matter then and it shouldn't now. But I got burned for it then, and am still living down the effects of those days." Jeff handed me a coconut water and I unscrewed the cap and took a swig. "Look, people change, they grow up, they get more self-aware and in tune with all their environment. You get to be like thirty-five and you're like am I gonna be a kid the rest of my life, or am I gonna be an adult? It's almost like you think to yourself, man, you know, I don't want to be a fifty-year-old guy trolling around a club in LA."

"So you decided to change your image?"

"Long before I met Aubrey or thought about coming back to church, or reclaiming my lost testimony, yeah. Troy and I and Ben and Jeff here, we all decided to fix our image. I got a real live financial advisor, one who understands the kind of money I generate these days--- as a damn successful rock and roll star."

"Musician." Aubrey corrected and we all laughed again.

"Yeah, as a successful musician which is what I set out to be all my life ago. I got some real life advice from a few very trusted and experienced people and I invested and created and became involved in other ventures and yeah---- we exposed our true natures in our music, and quit worrying about what everybody else thought."

"So people said you sold out."

We all laughed hard. This was a standing joke amongst us. "Yeah! We did. We sold out. If to sell out means to achieve your goals. If to sell out means to produce music that people like, and that sells, and to become financially secure. It's like announcing you want to be successful was like announcing that you loved metal hair, or you shopped at The Gap. Sure, lots of people did it, but it wasn't cool. It was like it was uncool to actually try. It's like it was a sin to actually pursue worldwide success. No, that wasn't cool."

"You have to admit, your lyrics have been borderline dirty."

"Why do I have to admit that? Does it make you feel better to know that I know it too? Of course, I know it. My lyrics have been borderline muddy--- or just really sexy and turned people on. People like that stuff." I glanced at Aubrey who blinked at my use of the word stuff instead of shit.

"So you don't care?"

"That I've been a douche? Or that I've produced music that is super sexy and in your words, dirty?" I said the last word a little skeptically, because I didn't find my lyrics filthy. They had a niche, and were catchy.

"Are you a douche?"

"I don't think so. I'm very self-aware. I'm not arrogant."

She raised her brows in disbelief.

"I'm cocky. There's a difference. I'm very grateful for all I've been given. And I've been given a lot. I came from money--- not a ton of money, but enough to help me get started. I came from connections, not a lot, not like Aubrey, but enough. I came here with a lot of charisma. That's not arrogant. I use it to express my cocky side."

"That's not all there is to being a douche."

"I really hate that word." Aubrey finally said.

I nodded. I hated it too.

"I'm not insecure. So sue me. I'm not insecure in a day when insecurity is somehow valued. Some people don't like confidence, they resent it. But I have it, and I'm not apologizing for it. I know who I am. I don't apologize for that, in any way. I decided to make a change in my life. I decided to trade old values for new ones. And when I did, I'm not ashamed to say that God gave me a beautiful companion to travel the rest of eternity with."

"And that's how you got here? God?"

"Does that bother you? I assumed you'd get it."

"I do get it. I just find it hard to believe."

"Really? I hear missionaries tell stories all the time about the guy that nobody thought would ever join the church and now he's the Bishop."

"Really? All the time? Because I hear stories about guys who pose naked with their latest Elite Forum model on the cover of Russian magazines to be playboys and womanizers, and not exactly upstanding members of the church."

"Whoa! Really? Guys like that can't change?" I pulled up my shirt and showed her my G's. Her eyes widened suitably. "Thank you very much. Even a douche like can me can be forgiven."

"What is the secret then?"

"To success? I can't give you that. Because there isn't one."

"One could say luck."

"One could. Or skill."

"But it isn't that, is it?"

"No."

"Is it flamboyance? Is it confidence? Is it a great personality? All these?"

Victorine looked down, and rubbed her fingers together. The universal sign for money. Money makes the world go round.

"I rest my case." I said slowly. "But honestly, my band is incredible and we've worked really hard to get here. We've all made all our own decisions and we've been and continue to be the most honest musicians out there. We don't lie about why we're here, we don't pretend to be unsuccessful--- we are successful. We didn't pretend to be rock stars when we weren't, and we don't pretend to be members of the church unless we really are. And that, my dears, is how we got here."

Chyma started clapping and I bowed my head, then saluted her as the rest started clapping too.

And that could have been the end of my chapter. Should have been. Maybe the end of the book--- and we all live happily ever after with that philosophy guiding our lives. Works for me.

*****