Paisley The Birth of a Star

As it often does with life, things happened quickly. I finished my degree and immediately found a job working at a local firm as a client manager.

Paisley settled into being a stay at home Mum. We found a little house in Ngaio. It wasn't posh, but it was a start. Life was good, very good. The girls were so much fun. Seeing Paisley blossom as a mother was incredible. She made a few friends through the Plunket, and then kindergarten. I managed to progress at work. Financially, things were stable. Yeah, life was good.

Occasionally though, especially when we watched music videos. There was that look in her eye, that look of loss. Her dreams were so powerful, her aspirations that she kept buried, but I saw through her thin disguise.

I felt for her, I really did, but she wasn't the only one. I had given up my dreams, as well. We tried to release some of those emotions in little sessions at home. Sunday afternoons became our time. We grabbed the guitars and had a sing along. It wasn't easy, because once the girls found out they wanted to join in as well.

Okay, that was fun, but it took away the musicality. It became an opportunity for the girls to take over.

It was the kindergarten fund raiser that sort of dragged all the emotions to the top. A few of the other parents heard us singing at barbecues and what not. We were asked to put on a little Saturday afternoon concert for the parents.

With an actual gig to aim for, we really put some effort in. We had a couple of pretty good sets. All covers, but we had enough experience to know it's what they would want.

We borrowed some PA gear and set up a little stage in the hall. There were about 50 people in attendance. With a bar in the corner, the stage was set. I couldn't believe how keyed up Paisley was. She was as nervous as a first timer.

"God, Jake, it's been so long."

"Relax, babe, once we get under way, it'll all come back. Trust me."

She gave me a big kiss and we took the stage to some pretty over the top cheers. These other parents were in need of entertainment as much as we were. With kids that age, nobody gets out.

To get things underway, we started with popular songs everybody knew. Tom Petty, Pink Floyd, Bob Dylan. Easy songs. Yeah, Paisley was nervous at first, but two songs in and the performer shone through. She was like the girl I first met. Her vocals soared. Using a stomp box, I managed to get a good strong beat going and she got right into it.

The tiny crowd loved it. We were all parents and this was a chance to get away from the kids and have a night out, let our hair down. Consequently, they were easily pleased. I don't know that we were that good, but the women were all dancing and dragging their partners with them. That fired up Paisley, and her old persona seeped out. She danced and sang along with them. She sang her heart out. The mic stand was flying as she waved it around like a walking stick.

What a night. The drive home was boisterous. "Oh my god, Jake. Oh hell that was fun. Did you see them all dancing? You were amazing."

"No, babe, you were the star of the show. As always, you were special."

She kissed me. "Oh hell, I forgot how much I loved that. We should find some other musos and get a band together."

"Yeah, and what do we do with the girls?"

He face dropped and she sighed. "Yeah, what was I thinking."

"Paisley, we could do this occasionally, though. You know, just you and me. We could probably pick up some Sunday session gigs. Just acoustic stuff."

"Yeah, that would be nice." She sighed wistfully. I could see the fire had gone out again. Not entirely, but I could see, that wasn't what she wanted.

It sure was a nice night, though. The passion flowed into the bedroom, and with the girls staying with Mum, we had the full run of the house. The lovemaking was ferocious and torrid.

Over the next week, I saw that light flicker a little brighter. Each night, after the girls were in bed and sound asleep. She got out her guitar and we had a little session. It was the next week when I found the newspaper sitting on the bench. In the personal column, there was an add from a local band advertising for a singer. The ad was circled boldly in red ink.

Paisley never said anything, but I sensed she wanted to. I waited, sure enough Friday night she asked. "Babe, can we talk?"

"Is it about the advert?"

She frowned. "You saw it?"

"Yeah, I saw it."

There was a hopeful almost pleading look in her eyes. "Well, what do you think?"

It was obvious she was interested. "What do you want to do, Paisley? How would it work?"

"I don't know, babe, I don't even know what sort of music they're into, or what their aim is. All I do know is after that little gig at the kindergarten, I am as keen as ever. I need that back in my life. You must have felt it."

"Yeah." I mumbled. "Of course I felt it, but I buried those desires. We have the girls now."

"Babe, just because we have the girls, the world doesn't have to stop. We can do both. We can find ways to make it work."

She rushed into the kitchen and returned with a beer for me and a wine for her. "Please, babe, let me try out. They might not even like me."

"Yeah, right." I snorted. "Don't chase compliments, Paisley. They'll love you, we both know it."

She blushed. "I was being serious. I'm a mother these days."

That's how we ended up at a house in Kelburn. The gear was already set up and they were playing when we knocked on the door.

A tall lanky guy opened the door. He looked startled when he saw Paisley. I don't know what he was expecting but he said, "Hello, doll." Immediately, I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I didn't like him. The comment was sleazy and uncalled for. "I'm Steve, you must be Paisley." He gave me a glare. "And who are you?"

Paisley jumped in quickly. "This is Jake, my husband."

The look on his face dropped as he gave me the once over. "Come on in then."

We walked in and Steve introduced Paisley to everybody. He practically ignored my presence.

As Paisley slipped out of her coat, I watched the lecherous prick ogling her, and I hated him even more. The others were no better. All eyes were on her.

"All right, what sort of stuff do you sing girl?" Steve asked.

She shrugged. "I can sing most stuff, pick something and I will try to sing along."

He nodded. "Do you know Led Zeppelin, "Rock and Roll"?"

Paisley smirked. "Yeah, I know it."

He slipped on his guitar and they started to play. Paisley didn't just blow them away, she blew me away, as well. She dragged out a Robert Plant-like scream as she sailed mercilessly into the chorus.

I watched as they all looked from one to another as Paisley gave it her all. She loved the song, although I had never heard her sing it. She made it her own. Her broken gravelly voice echoed shades of Janis Joplin as she screamed her way through it.

As they wound up Steve shouted "Oh fuck yeah, that's fucking choice, cuz."

Paisley smiled, accepting the plaudits. She gave me a sneaky look. She was in heaven. I could see it. As I looked around them, they were a motley bunch. Reminded me off myself, when I was their age. Unkempt, no money, cheap gear, but they were pretty good. Steve, for all his lecherous intent, was a damn good guitar player.

At the end of the night, we sat down with beers and Steve said, "Well, girl. If you want it, you're in."

"Hang on a minute." I muttered, drawing all eyes to me. "We need to know what you're actually looking for. We have a family. Paisley won't always be available. What sort of gigs are you looking for?"

Jerry, the bass player said. "We're new, but we're in it for whatever we can get. We'll play every night if we can."

"Maybe this isn't going to work. How often do you practice?"

Steve interrupted. "Twice a week, Tuesday and Thursday nights."

"Got any gigs?" I asked.

"Nah, not yet, put we have been putting the feelers out. We should have some in about a month."

Paisley gave me a sneaky anxious sideways glance, and I'm sure she saw the grimace those words brought.

Steve fixed Paisley with a piercing glare. "Well, are you interested or not?"

She gave him a nod, as she swallowed hard, wordlessly glancing at me. "Yes, I'm interested."

He reached out his beer to share a toast with the other members. With a broad sleazy smile he said, "Welcome aboard the Silver Dream Express."

They threw back their beers, and Steve announced, "We're about to jam out, do you want to stay?"

She quickly glanced at me, her eyes asking the question, it wasn't a plea, just an anxious ask. "Yeah, we can stay for an hour." I mumbled.

He laughed as he replied. "Yeah, the neighbours will have the shits if we played later than that, anyway. We're working on finding a rehearsal room."

As they played, I had a look over their gear. Their individual gear was pretty good, but the PA was shitty, and they didn't know much about setting it up. The feedback was overpowering. I moved the speakers, so they weren't facing directly at the mics, had a quick play with the parametric EQ's. A couple of changes eased the feedback a little, which allowed me to boost the vocal levels.

Steve gave me a respectful nod.

Afterwards, as we were about to leave he mentioned, "Dude, you seem to know a bit about PA's?"

"Yeah, I know a bit."

Paisley sniggered. "Steve, Jake is a muso. He played in his own bands. He is a whizz with sound gear."

"Fuck, choice bro. Maybe you could be our sound guy?"

I shook my head. "Nah, not for me, I'm out of the music scene. We have a family now, and that is our focus."

He frowned as he gazed at Paisley, but said nothing.

Paisley was euphoric as we drove home. "Wow, they're pretty good. What did you think, Jake?"

"I didn't like them. I saw the way that arsehole gave you the eye. They sounded okay, but, and this is a big one for me, I don't know how we're going to do this, Paisley. They are young and passionate. They seem pretty determined."

She winced as I out-laid my concerns. "Babe, we can make it work. Your parents love having the girls. We can do this. They're just young guys. Trust me, Hon, I'm not interested in them."

"Easy to say, Honey, but we've both played in bands, we know what happens: drinks, probably drugs, late nights. They will put the hard word on you. We both know it."

"None of that matters, all I'm interested in is the music. You have to trust me, Jake. You know how much I love you and our family."

"I trust you, babe. I just don't trust them."

The next couple of moths were hectic, Paisley was gone two nights a week, as well as wanting time at home to rehearse. That meant I got the girls. Paisley tried to take the pressure off me, by doing everything on the nights she wasn't rehearsing.

She knew how nervous I was about the guys in the band. She never stayed late, always got home about ten after rehearsals. She was trying to allay my fears. I knew that.

Arriving home one night, Paisley was in a particularly jubilant mood. "What's got you so excited?"

"We just got our first gig!"

Trying to sound enthusiastic I asked "Where is it?"

"Petone Rugby club."

"Can I come?" I asked.

She jumped into my arms. "I was hoping you would. I already asked your Mum if she would mind the girls."

Saturday night I watched on like an interested spectator as she got ready. Dressed in her micro-mini leather skirt, knee high glossy leather boots, cropped knotted T-shirt she looked sexy as hell. God, it's times like that you realise how beautiful your wife is.

"Paisley, you look sexy as hell. Jeez, I better get an axe handle or something, because I'm going to spend all night chasing guys away."

She grinned. "You don't have to worry, babe. I will only ever be going home with you."

Watching her walk out on stage was incredible. I got a huge swell of pride. She looked amazing, and the band did sound good.

Watching Paisley work the crowd was awesome, dancing, clapping with her hands up over her head, her sexy body swaying seductively as she writhed and danced.

The crowd were into it. The dance floor was packed. The only thing letting them down was the PA.

Afterwards, they were swamped with well wishes and requests to come back, and where are you playing, so we can come and rock out.

Paisley was on a whole different level of happy. She was blissfully euphoric. "Oh my god, Jake, I can't believe, that was incredible, oh my god, babe. That was so amazing. I'm tingling. What did you think?"

"It was good, no doubt about it, you were awesome."

She leaned over and kissed me so hard I thought we were going to crash.

That was the start of it. From then on they played almost every weekend, and that led to a short North Island tour. They were riding the crest of a wave.

It was great, and hell at the same time. I couldn't ask Mum to babysit every weekend, and I didn't want to lose touch with the girls. To facilitate that. I stopped going to their gigs. That was hard, because I hated her being off with them. She often came home late and drunk. She was slowly slipping out of our lives.

Yeah, during the week, she worked hard, did all the housework and cooking, cared for the girls and worked full time.

The band was riding high. It was all I heard about from Paisley. It seemed all our conversations were about the band. The main one being, they wanted to cut a record. The problem was, they couldn't afford it.

Tiny Triumph Records had shown some interest, but it meant the band had to front with the money.

That topic of conversation dominated our dinner time talks. I sensed she was feeling me out. She wanted something, but was too afraid to ask.

Sunday, we were getting ready to have a barbecue lunch. As I fired up the barbecue in the back yard, I looked up to see Paisley and the band standing there. Steve brought over a beer for me. We touched bottles and as I looked quizzically from one face to the next, it was Paisley who announced. "Babe, we have something to ask you."

"Yeah, go on."

"Well, as you know we want to cut a demo record, so we can put our name into the ring for festivals and stuff."

"Yeah, I have heard."

"Well, we can't afford it."

Frowning I muttered. "You've had gigs every weekend for the last two months. Sometimes two nights a week. What do you do with that money?"

Steve jumped in. "Jake, most of us don't have jobs. We need that money. It's what we live on."

Paisley took over. "Jake, Honey, I suggested that, we. You and me, could pay for the recording."

"Shit, Paisley. We don't have that money just laying around."

"We have the holiday fund. The money we were saving for our holiday at Christmas."

"You want us to forgo the holiday? We've been saving for two years. Jesus, Paisley, what about the girls? What about your parents? They have been dying to catch up and see the girls."

She rushed into my arms. "Babe, we will pay the money back. I mean we can sell the CDs at gigs and the demo should get us better gigs, so we can pay the money back in no time."

The pleading, look in her eyes showed her intensity. Steve jumped back in. "Bro, she's right, mate. We can easily pay back the money. Consider it a loan."

What could I say. If I said no my life would become hell.

I paid for their recording session. After that there was more. I also paid for the pressing of two thousand copies of the CD's. I would have loved to go into the studio and see it unfurl. But, I had to work, to pay for it.

I remember the day I got home from work to find Paisley in one of her ecstatic moods. "And?" I asked.

"The CD's are here, and god, they sound amazing. I think you are going to love it. Come and have a listen." She jumped into my arms, her lips crashing passionately into mine, her body assaulting me like an out of control octopus. Her hands were everywhere.

She led me into the living room and hit play on the stereo. She ran off to return with beers.

As we sat and listened, I saw the expectant joyous expression on her face. The first song was one of Paisley's. It was a song she wrote, but I rewrote for her. It was pretty good. It rocked, and the band had given it their own flavour. I nodded along, my feet tapping.

Yeah, it was good. The second song blasted out and I nearly dropped my beer.

She saw the look of shock on my face. Her hand quickly closed around mine in a tight squeeze.

My heart skipped a beat and the anger I felt exploded in a deep snarl. "What the fuck!"

She leaned back, shocked. "I thought you would like it?"

"Paisley, that's my song. I never gave you permission to use it."

"I thought you wouldn't mind. I mean you never did anything with it."

"That doesn't matter. It's my song. I wrote it."

I glanced down at the album cover and read the credits. The fuckers had even stolen the credit for writing it. As I looked down the song list. I saw two other songs of mine listed, and they didn't even give me credit for one of them.

I hit stop on the stereo. My pulse was racing. Paisley stared at me, her face a mix of anxiety and expectation. I didn't want to speak, I was afraid if I did I would say something I couldn't take back.

It was Paisley who broke the stony silence. "What's wrong, Honey? I thought it would be special to use your songs."

"First off, they are my songs. I wrote them, not you, and especially not the fucking band. You stole them."

She looked horrified. "What? No, babe, you've got the wrong impression. We didn't steal them."

"Yeah, then when did we have the discussion about you using them? where is my name on the cover? Who does it say wrote them?" I pointed at the words. 'All songs written by the band.'

Guiltily, hesitantly she said. "We did that to make it less confusing for the fans."

"Yeah, where are they?" She pointed to a large box on the end of the bench.

"Those are mine. I paid for them, the recording, the pressings, fuck. I even paid for the artwork. Nobody is getting one single copy. You are not using my songs."

With anger bubbling through her words she hissed. "Jake, we've been playing all those songs at all our gigs for months now. People love them."

"Yeah, well you can stop that, as well. Fuck, Paisley, they are my songs. You couldn't even ask me? You couldn't even tell me."

"If you could have been bothered to come to any of our gigs you would have heard them." She snorted derisively.

"Yeah, and who would have looked after our daughters? Christ Paisley, all you had too do is ask." I grumbled accusingly.

"Babe, I wanted it to be a surprise. You haven't done anything with them, nothing. I can't remember the last time that folder has seen the light of day. They sit in that dusty old folder and they never get played or anything. They're too good. They need to be played."

"Not like that. You turned them into shitty pop songs. They were never intended to be played like that. Fucking keyboards, Jesus Christ. They sound fucking awful."

Her eyes bugged and an angry light started to glow behind her beautiful deep green eyes. "Say what you want, but people love them."

"Not any fucking more, they don't."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean, they are mine. I haven't given you permission to sing, perform, or record them."

She stormed off in a huff, leaving me fuming. The girls came out to see what all the yelling was about, and jumped into my lap for cuddles.

I ejected the CD, put it in its case, collected all the others and took them out to the shed where I locked them in my gun cabinet.

It was later after we had a very quiet dinner, Paisley asked, "Where did you put the albums?"

"Somewhere safe."

With a softer conciliatory tone she said. "Hon, we want to use them. I filled out a couple of applications for festivals. I need to include copies when I post them."