Lori a Fresh Start and a New Love

A big thank you to Randi for not only her hard work. Editing anything I write is hard work... But it goes a long way beyond editing, guidance, encouragement, and story ideas. Thank you doesn't really do it justice.

Fuck... God my back hurt..

Another day digging and moving rocks from my paddock by the house. I had to laugh thinking about it. Who would have ever guessed, little old me, the amateur stone mason. Okay, stone mason was stretching it, but I was getting pretty damn good at making stone walls and fences.

The only problem with my property was the rocks. It was volcanic, really rich soil, but covered in stones. The last two years I had spent clearing the surface ones, then piling them into my broken down old wheelbarrow and wheeling them to my project. The first one had been a fence by the gate. Just a small entrance. That's the problem with all those do-it-yourself programs. Having seen these awesome stone walls and fences, and then looking at my rock strewn paddock, I decided I could do that.

That was the seed; now I had these pretty cool stone fences all over the property.

The plus side was, my paddocks were now looking green and lush.

Yep, I was a fucking genius, if only my back didn't ache. At forty-eight, I guess you have to expect things to be a little harder.

Still, I could look around and I owned it, didn't owe a cent to anybody.

It wasn't always that way.

Glancing at my phone hanging half out of my shirt pocket. I noticed it was nearly six PM. Bugger it, I could use a beer.

Walking into the pub, I was surprised to hear music. I mean it was Saturday, but not something we got a lot of at the local.

"Steinlager please, Geoff." I said to the barman as I leaned back against the bar and looked at the hottie standing in the corner playing guitar and singing.

As he slid my beer across, I asked, "Who's the chick singing?"

"That's Tina, our new barmaid. The boss's giving her a shot. If people like it, she might get a regular gig."

I nodded, taking a long slurp from my beer. Okay, I think she had a great voice, but her guitar playing was ordinary. She spent so much time looking at her fingers on the fret board. That meant her voice suffered, she couldn't actually let her voice go.

She played two more songs, then took a break. As she approached the bar she asked Geoff, "What does it sound like?"

He shrugged. "Sounds good to me, but I know fuck-all about music."

She glanced around the room and this big hairy fucker came over to stand beside her. "Sounds good, babe," he announced proudly as he leaned down and kissed her.

I wanted to say. 'What the fuck?' I'd decided to keep my trap shut, but when she turned to me, she asked, "What do you think?" her voice hopeful, full of expectation.

"Well, the mix is stuffed. Too much bass, we can't hear your voice, it's muddy as hell. You need to kill some of the bass, maybe boost the mids, and definitely lift the tops."

She recoiled a little, not insulted, but curious. The boyfriend, who I now realised had been doing her sound, looked mighty pissed.

"You seem to know a little about it. Could you offer some suggestions?"

Feeling brave after my first beer, I replied, "Buy my next beer and I'll fix it for you?"

"You touch that fucking desk and I'll break your fingers." her dickhead boyfriend snarled viciously. The look he gave me confirmed he wasn't joking.

"Sorry, looks like it's a no go."

She turned to her boyfriend and scowled. "Paul, don't be so silly. What harm could it do? If it doesn't work, we can change it back."

He returned her scowl with one of his own. "Your call, Tina, but if she fucks it up, you won't get another chance."

She turned back to me, held out her hand, and said, "Hi, I'm Tina."

I acknowledged her introduction, shaking her hand. "I'm Lori, do you want me to make those adjustments?"

"Yes please," she said with that hopeful beaming smile making it impossible to say no.

"Okay, let's give it a go now while you're on break. Don't forget my beer."

She followed me over to the little mixing desk. At least it had a built in EQ, so there was room for a little fiddle.

"You go over to the mic, and just sing me a few lines."

She started singing and I started my adjustments. Easy really, five minutes later I had the sound right. I had even found the inbuilt effects processor and added a little reverb and a wee bit of delay. As Tina walked over, she had that big beamy smile going big time.

Holy shit she was a cutie... Mother of god, she looked stunning. "Thanks," she said warmly. "How do you know so much about sound?"

"I've played in a few bands over the years," I replied.

"Do you sing?" she asked, curiosity seeping through her inquiry.

"Yeah, played guitar mostly though."

"Really?" She gasped. "I have a second guitar if you'd like to join in. I'm hopeless on guitar."

"Actually, if you keep the beers rolling in. I wouldn't mind. It's been a while, but yeah. I'd like that."

"Sweet," she gushed, heading for the back of the stage. She returned carrying a pretty beat up old Takamine. "Sorry, it's pretty rough, but it plays fine."

Strapping it on, I tuned up. It sounded bloody nice. Typical Tak, age only makes them better. I plugged into the desk, no separate amp. It didn't take me long to find a nice sound.

Tina turned up with a couple of beers. We clinked bottles, and she asked, "Ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

"Do you need chord charts? I've got some for most of the songs. I think I can remember them."

"Nah, we'll be all good sweetie. You concentrate on singing. I'll fit in where I can."

Looking around the room, it was now filling up with the usual dinner crowd. There were a few fingers pointing, and some stifled giggles.

Tina started her first song after the break and I sensed her unease. Thankfully, she chose an old Kiwi favourite: "Dominion Road." I knew it well, and was able to come in, adding the main riff over her vocals. She turned, shocked. The smile she gave me lit up the room.

She followed it up with "Victoria, Victoria," then "Blue Lady," "Why Does Love Do This to Me," and a few other really popular songs. It was perfect for me. I even got close enough so I could sing harmony for her.

There we were, standing close enough we were almost cheek to cheek, sharing the same mic. Having me play guitar gave her the freedom to really let loose. Her whole persona changed. She was fucking hot.

The crowd loved her, and there were a few oldies dancing. As the night wore on, the dance floor stayed full as the younger crowd filed in.

Dave the publican kept bringing beers, so I guessed he was happy. In fact, the only person who didn't look happy was her dickhead boyfriend, Paul. I mean what was his problem? He was clearly the jealous controlling type, but give me a break. I'm a forty-eight-year-old woman. I hardly looked like I was gonna give him any problems. I wasn't getting a vibe that Tina was any way interested in experimenting.

After the publican called "Time," Tina and I sat down to have a chat. She had just moved to town, and had picked up the job as barmaid. It took her a month to convince Dave to give her a shot at performing.

It wasn't something I had seen in the two years I had lived in Pio Pio: I had never seen live music. The social life of the town centred around the rugby club and the bowling club. It was a small, typically Kiwi town, population measured in the hundreds, not thousands, buried in the heart of the King Country. It was archetypal Kiwi.

My little three acre lot was twenty minutes out of town. When I got out of prison, I searched the whole country for a place to buy where I could get away from everything and just chill out and recover.

Yep, you heard it right. Recover. I had been locked up for fraud and drug possession. The only problem was there were more drugs on the inside than there were on the outside.

Yeah, you had to lick a lot of pussy to get it, but they were there. The bloody screws were the biggest dealers. I got my fair share of beatings. Call me clueless, but I wasn't going to be forced into eating out all the screws just for a fix. Most of my adult life had vanished in a heroin haze.

Somehow, I was getting out of prison free from the ties that bind. Heroin was no longer going to be my captor. If I got nothing else from my incarceration, it was going to be clean.

I tried, I fucking tried hard, but it's a hard habit to break. I didn't mind the sexual coercion. It was the intimidating threatening bullying that I hated. A couple of the screws were pretty nice. If I was going to be somebody's bitch, then Analise was my choice. She got me the drugs, and she was a good fuck. She at least reciprocated, and I got off as well.

Getting out, I had nothing. I scraped together what remained of my royalty checks and for ninety thousand bucks, I brought a run down little farmlet. It was isolated and I locked myself away for nearly two months. Cold turkey sucks, and the withdrawal... fuck that was brutal.

Slowly though, I emerged clean, barely. It was the work on the house that got me through. I focused everything I had on making my little slice of paradise liveable. When I moved in, it didn't even have electricity.

"So what bands did you play in?" Tina asked.

"Oh a few here and there. Nothing special." I had a little laugh; at one time I had three songs in the top twenty. I was recognised everywhere, and lived the high life. Celebrities in New Zealand lived a pretty good life.

"Would you be interested in doing this regularly?" Tina asked.

"Yeah, I'd be up for that. How often do you reckon they'll wear?"

"Maybe once a month, but I was just talking to a bloke named Thomas from the rugby club, and they're enthusiastic as well. Even all Maude from the bowling club mentioned they'd be keen."

"What sort of money are we talking?"

The flinch gave it away. "Not much, maybe three, four hundred."

"Sounds about right. There's never been much money in it."

She gave me a sneaky little pensive look, asking, "Would you be interested in some originals? I've written a few songs. I would love to include them."

"Yeah, I'd be up for that. Do you have somewhere to rehearse?"

"Nah, not really. I've got the PA, and that, but we live in town, and the neighbours are all old buggers."

"Well, I've got a little room we could use. So long as you don't mind driving out to Tikitiki road?"

She shrugged. "I don't know where that is, but I could do that."

Glancing towards her boyfriend who was walking towards us, I said, "Could you leave him at home?"

She laughed lightly. "Yeah, I can do that. I don't think he would be keen anyway."

My vegetable plot was large. Money was still my biggest issue. During shearing season I got regular work as roustabout or chef. There were a couple of farms around the area where I picked up occasional work, but it wasn't enough to live comfortably.

My vegetable plot was not only great fun, and good therapy, it was a necessity. I was in the garden when Tina arrived. She approached with her usual beacon-like smile. We slipped into a hug as a greeting. "How have ya been?" she asked.

"Choice really. You?"

"Busy at the pub. Dave wants to have another gig next week. He said it was the best night he's had in five years. He offered us four hundred if that's okay?"

"Sweet, no worries. Come on in and I'll get you a cuppa."

I gave her a quick tour, and she was impressed with my little rehearsal space. "Wow, this is friggin awesome," she gushed as she looked over my mixing console, and the big JBL-powered speakers.

"Girl, this stuff is way better than mine. Can we use it for the gig?"

"Yeah, it's all that's left of a life long forgotten."

She gave me a strange look. "Do you live here by yourself, or do you have a hubby?"

"No, all on my own."

We sat down with our tea, and she asked, "How did you know all the songs I played the other night?"

"I've played them al before, well, most of them. Once I know the key, I'm normally good to go. It would be nice to see a full set list."

"We could do songs you want to do, as well. You've got a great voice."

"I'm happy for you to do all of the vocals, so let's focus on the songs you want to do."

She reached into her shopping bag and pulled out a giant folder. As we looked through it, I asked, "So, Paul and you live together, are you married?"

She giggled, choking on her cup of tea. "Oh god no. We live together, but honestly, since we moved here, I could kill him. He's so flaming jealous, and he follows me around like he doesn't trust me. He's supposed to be looking for work."

"Yeah, he seems to have some anger issues all right."

She nodded slowly. "Yeah, I'm sorry about that. I wanted him to apologise, but, well..."

"Nah, forget it, but I can see he is going to struggle if the music thing takes off."

"Bloody hell, shit he couldn't be any worse than he is about me working at the pub. Shit, he comes in every night, and it's not like we can afford it. He keeps trying to get me to give him free drinks. I refused because it's not bloody fair."

"Tina, I've seen guys like him in the past. You need to make sure you look out for number one first."

"Oh, I hear yah. I shouldn't have let him talk me into moving with me. I didn't want to."

I turned on the gear, strapped on my guitar, and said, "Let's get some work done aye."

It was amazing how much better she was without the stress of having to play guitar. Her voice was the perfect blend of Austrian crystal and down home southern gravel. When she was singing easily, the notes flowed freely and smoothly, in perfect pitch without any strain, but once she started reaching for the highs, her voice broke up just the right amount. Still in perfect tune, but it was like hitting the distortion pedal. Her voice took on this smoky gravelly element. So lovely.

Watching her sing was a thing of beauty. Her light brown, almost streaky blonde hair flew everywhere as she strove for that note. The muscles on her arms bulged. Damn, she had a fit little body: not skinny, but no extra weight.

It made a tingle in places I hadn't felt for quite a while. She had the sexiest sultry smouldering eyes that glistened.

The day passed easily. The last hour focused entirely on her songs, and they were good. I don't mean okay, I mean they were fucking awesome. With me singing harmonies, she really let her vocals soar.

I think it was a shock for her, having another musician in the mix. She had no experience at all of playing with other people.

My little life was changing, although playing music again was positive, and yet brought back a lot of toxic memories. At the height of my career. I was flying, travelling the world, performing, on TV, getting invites to all of the best events, galas, festivals. I had it all, but the pressure to succeed got to me, and the only way to keep going was drugs. That's a lie I told myself for years. It wasn't the only way; it was the path I chose. That was part of my rehabilitation: understanding I was responsible for not only the good shit, but the bad as well.

Heroin is a powerful master, and I guess perhaps because of my personality, I fell easily into its grasping clutches. When I look back, it happened so fast. At a party I didn't want to be at, courted by a very powerful international record exec who expected me to be in his bed if I wanted a gig touring and supporting am internationally acclaimed band.

It was he who convinced me heroin would be a good lift. Mixed with the coke and ecstasy, it was a powerful mix.

Don't be fooled by the glitz and glamour; for small time performers, you have to sleep with some fucking awful frogs. I hated that aspect, but those fuckers have the power. Once you get a foothold, you can manage your own destiny. For a young girl from Palmerston north, it's not that easy.

Yeah, you get the invites, but that's when you find out what's required to get a signature...

Good or bad, right or wrong, I got sucked in. I wanted that success. I had stars in my eyes, and I was prepared at that time to do whatever it took. I mean, it wasn't completely horrible. Some of them were good looking and pleasant to be around. There were a couple of dirty kinky fuckers who used their power to get people like me to do shit we would never do...

Anyway, I was happy to be out of it. Now I was never recognised, my name never registered with people because I had been encouraged to take on a stage name.

It was funny when Tina suggested we cover a couple of my songs. She didn't know they were mine, but she was surprised when I knew them so intimately.

"God, you sound just like Marylyn," she said with a shocked gasp. "It's like I'm singing with her. You're really good."

I laughed it off. "I always liked her songs. I learned them well."

"Choice, we can do a few more then, because I adore them. She was such am influence on me growing up. I felt so sorry for her when it all turned to custard for her."

"She went downhill pretty quick," I replied sarcastically.

"It wasn't her fault. She was set up. I don't care what anybody says."

"Tina, don't get sucked in, girl. We're all responsible for the choices we make."

The gigs were great, we managed to drag in a lot of people, which made the publican happy. That meant we got invited back. That led to gigs at the rugby club for end of season prize-giving and party.

Then it was the bowling club. Things were going great. Tina and I established a wonderful friendship. She was a sweet bubbly young thing, me the world wary anchor.

The only bad bit was her dickhead boyfriend. He kept sticking his nose in. It was nice using him as a roadie; he was big and strong, he was just a dick.

"Lori, Paul mentioned he has a mate. I know you're not seeing anybody. It must be lonely. Would you like me to set up a date? We could all go together."

"Nah, I'm happy with my chickens and the sheep. I don't need a man hanging around to make life difficult."

"He's a nice bloke. Not like Paul. God knows how he puts up with Paul. His name is Craig, he's a bit older. Rides a Harley. He seems popular with the girls, so he must have something," she said with a snide giggle.

"Nah, not for me, sweetie."

When she called me, and invited me to meet her for dinner at the pub, I should have known something was up. She twisted my arm when she said Dave, the publican, was shouting us dinner. That was too good to miss.

I decided to take the opportunity to put on a little glamour. Put my hair up, dug out some makeup. Even found my denim mini. It actually looked nice. I had a cotton blouse that set it off.

Looking in the mirror, I said to myself, 'Not bad for an old girl.'

Walking into the pub I heard this god almighty wolf whistle. Glancing up I saw Tina, with her fingers in her mouth. The bloody girl should have been a shepherd.

"Wow, you look really pretty tonight," she said, leaning in for a hug and kiss. "Come on over to the bar, there's somebody I want you to meet."

"Oh fuck no, tell me you didn't," I sighed sarcastically.

"Oh stop it. He seems really nice. Give him a chance."

The moment I saw him, I felt my tummy churn. Everything I dislike about men was standing there beside dickhead Paul. Fuzzy unkempt hair and a beard that looked like it hadn't seen scissors for years. Old worn out denim and a leather waist coat.

As we neared them, I leaned closer to Tina and whispered in her ear, "Fuck you bitch."

She just giggled, and replied, "Don't be mean, he's okay. You might even get lucky."

Looking at the beast, I said, "There would be nothing lucky about that."

"Craig, this is Lori." He wanted a hug, but was surprised when I stuck out my hand to shake.

We went over to the dining area, and Graig said, "Order whatever you want. It's on me."