We Wish You a Misfits Christmas (Jem) by Stormkpr
Title: We Wish You a Misfits Christmas
Author: stormkpr
Fandom: Jem
Pairing: none, gen
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A Misfits holiday fic that takes place about 10 years after the end of the series.
We Wish You a Misfits Christmas
Author’s Note: This is a stand-alone fic; unrelated to any of my other works. With thanks and hugs to my beta, Denisia. Rated PG-13 for one “adult” reference.
***
The once-intense rivalry between The Misfits and Jem and the Holograms is now irrelevant. Both bands have been discarded from the mainstream of pop culture, along with legwarmers and hair crimpers, despite their long runs of popularity and solid music throughout the eighties. Grunge rose up in the nineties and toppled the dance/pop of the prior decade. Rap and hip hop also came front and center.
Both bands released albums into the early/mid-nineties. The Misfits’ last release, four years ago now, received critical acclaim (and fans clamoring that it was the group’s best ever) but no airplay on either the radio or music television. Their last tour had taken them to venues that could at best be termed modest.
Pizzazz sits in front of the television, feeling a distant sense of loss as she watches the two videos they filmed for the album. The second video had been made with a sense of desperate depression, knowing the first single had bombed and that its successor would likely face the same fate, due to nothing that the band could control. Pizzazz watches their images, stirred up with thoughts of how the video must have looked to the public - a rock band from the eighties so obviously passé and trying so painfully hard to look relevant. The video was filmed in sedate black and white, containing none of the decadent images from the eighties -- no bright clothing or exploding fireworks. The Misfits’ hairstyles were less layered, and their make-up conservative, designed to hide encroaching signs of aging rather than to shock onlookers with bold lines on cheeks and foreheads. At least one Misfit had put on some weight, years of the group’s love of food having caught up with metabolisms that used to be faster than the motorcycles they sometimes still ride.
Fan club members had raved about the music and video - and Pizzazz knows, despite her eternal deficit of real confidence, that the music had been some of their best. But the powers that be, the ones who controlled the industry and thus the record-buying public, decided that their style of music was over. Even Eric Raymond has turned his attention to managing grunge groups from Seattle and teen bands that don’t even write their own music.
Knowing that Jem and the Holograms - and many other “older” acts -- are in a similar predicament provides miniscule comfort to Pizzazz. Of the other eighties supergroups, only the Stingers have found a way to manage the grunge invasion and still retain some level of popularity. Chameleon-like, the trio drastically changes their look and sound every couple years and thus has managed to survive in the industry. They collaborate with a rap artist on three tracks of their latest release. Pizzazz shakes her head, shutting the television off when a Stingers video appears. Although she hasn’t seen Riot for years, too many uncomfortable memories remain.
Jem and the Holograms, three-fifths of whom are now married, apparently have taken happily to domesticity and running Starlight House and Starlight Music. Kimber has a fairly successful solo career; both of her albums have done moderately well compared to the other nineties female singer/songwriters. Jerrica has thrown herself into running Starlight Music which is turning a handsome profit. Jem makes rare public appearances to stump for various charities. Shana and Anthony now have two sons. She still designs fashions when she can but taking care of two boys under the age of four means that her free time is at a premium. Aja and Craig recently tied the knot, and she is now accompanying the Blue Bloods on their breakthrough U.S. tour. Since the Blue Bloods were not a mainstream hit in the eighties, they do not bear the eighties stigma. His career has taken a backseat to hers for so long; it is now her turn to reciprocate. Raya and her husband have a daughter and are now living in a Manhattan high-rise; he is an executive at some large corporation on the East Coast. Raya misses her family and band but has joyously taken to motherhood, wouldn’t trade little Veronica for any of it, and looks forward to having another baby soon. She and Shana used to exchange drumming tips, but now child-raising is the main focus of their phone calls.
Pizzazz is eternally discontent but now her discontent is more like a distant, barely-audible ringing in her ears, rather than the decibel-bursting scream it used to be. She takes never-expressed comfort in the fact that Roxy and Stormer still choose to live with her in the Gabor mansion and she no longer minds admitting to herself that she likes their company. She is dimly aware that she’s done some pretty low things to them in the past, has called them ‘idiot’ and ‘stupid’ more than once. But that was a decade ago and Pizzazz knows that the trespasses, never spoken of now, have been either forgotten or forgiven.
Stormer occasionally writes music - either for the Misfits or sometimes with Kimber. Two of the songs on Kimber’s last album were co-written with Stormer, and the Misfit sang back up on one of them. But neither the Misfits nor the duo Kimber and Stormer have plans to release material, at least not in the near future.
And then there’s Jetta. Jetta goes to England for a few months each year, has been doing so since the last album. Her time spent in England has increased steadily each year. December is now approaching and Pizzazz hasn’t seen Jetta since June, though they talk on the phone.
***
Jetta wanders in the London fog, breathing the rich, windy weather and wondering what she’s doing. She shakes her head and realizes she’s made a wrong turn and needs to backtrack. She has wandered into a neighborhood dangerous for a solo female and now retraces her steps. The East End can be pretty rough. She thrusts her hands inside her pockets, wishing she hadn’t forgotten her gloves in this chilly November weather.
Jetta doesn’t know why she keeps going back to England. She certainly doesn’t have close ties with any of her family members. For a while she’s felt like she belongs home but can’t figure out what she’s supposed to do in London. She played in a band there for a short while but it never felt right, never clicked. Their music was nothing compared to the Misfits’, even if the style they played was what was hip now. She also hated to admit to herself how old she felt compared to the band members, most of whom were her juniors by about a decade. She’s never mentioned her dalliance with the other group to any of the Misfits during their phone conversations.
She returns to her flat in time to pick up the ringing phone.
“Well, you are coming home - er, here, for Christmas, aren’t you?” Stormer asks, after they chat for a bit. “You’ve got to see Bette. She’s grown so much.”
”I would like to see her,” she says of Roxy’s ten month old baby, the product of a brief liaison with a local musician. They’ve split, he’s been to see the baby once, shortly after which he admitted to Roxy over the phone that it’s too soon for him to be a father and he thinks it would be best if he keeps his distance. Roxy shrugged, managing to keep her happiness concealed. She thinks it would be best if they keep their distance too.
“It wouldn’t be the same without you,” Stormer says. The Misfits have an annual holiday tradition.
“Don’t worry, ducks,” Jetta says, wondering if Pizzazz put Stormer up to the potential pleading. The singer was too proud to do it herself. “I’ll be there.”
***
Sitting in the spacious business-class seat, Jetta tries to fall back asleep but is unable. A flight attendant is hovering over the businessman in the seat in front of hers, offering drinks, and Jetta hopes they have Carlsburg on board. If she can’t sleep, at least she can drink.
She wonders how Pizzazz is handing the baby. Pizzazz hates kids. Last time Pizzazz and Jetta talked about it, Pizzazz giggled saying that her father still hasn’t said anything about Bette or given any signs that he knew a baby now resided in his mansion. Not that Pizzazz and Harvey talk any more than they used to.
When Jetta left in June, Roxy was apparently doing the best she could at being a parent, with Stormer helping to closely monitor baby’s nap time and feeding habits. A nanny takes Bette for several hours a day, allowing Roxy and company to enjoy the much-appreciated Misfits art of doing nothing.
Stormer has a boyfriend; Jetta hasn’t met him yet, and apparently it’s not super-serious now but has the potential to be. Stormer has never talked too much of the other guys she’s dated, but she mentions Dean occasionally. Jetta wonders what this might mean to their - the Misfits’ -- arrangement. Pizzazz is still doing her usual thing, running through men as if they were disposable razors.
Jetta mentally peruses the list of what else her bandmates have been up to, other than raising Bette. Stormer now spends one day a week teaching inner city kids how to play guitar. Pizzazz has actually taken up yoga, which shocked Jetta when Roxy and Stormer mentioned it during a recent three-way call. Jetta wants pictures.
Jetta reclines her seat further as she wonders what keeps calling her back to England. Certainly not her biological family. Her father died of heart disease a few years ago. Jetta sends money to Flo; Flo tracks her down and asks for more at least once a year. Jetta tries to avoid seeing her, or any of the rest of the brood. Once Flo - perhaps delighted at the envelope of bills her daughter just handed over -- reached to hug Jetta. It was an awkward moment; in 34 years Jetta can count on one hand - with fingers to spare -- the last time she experienced some affection from her mother. Now Jetta makes sure to just mail her mother a check instead of risking another face-to-face meeting. Jetta has one cousin in London whose presence she can tolerate, a young artist named Miki (nee Michelle), with short, spiked hair and a studio always bubbling with musicians, painters, and the like. Other than her, Jetta pretty much wants nothing to do with the rest of the clan.
A couple of hours pass. The in-flight movie is boring and she’s finished her magazine. She can’t get comfortable, even in the cushiony seat with the footrest. Jetta’s thoughts roll again. Her seven months in England were a bust and she is as directionless as she’s been since the Misfits’ success faded. She knows that she doesn’t want a baby like Roxy has, hasn’t met a guy worth settling down with (in fact, has been enjoying a hiatus from dating for the time being), hasn’t found another band she’s clicked with. Jetta tried writing a zippy autobiography but ran out of interest around page 10. She even enrolled in a few classes at university, hoping to uncover a new facet of herself. She dropped the Fashion Design class quickly but stayed with Anthropology, easily acing the exams (she’s always been smart, once she applies herself) but finding no real passion for the topic. One afternoon she found herself hooking up with a tour company and riding a double-decker bus with a gaggle of American tourists. For someone who fought tooth and nail to rise above her beginnings, she is baffled by her continued return to the place of her birth.
Pizzazz should have been the one to take their fall from popularity the hardest. Jetta marvels at the fact that Pizzazz is handling it at all. The Misfits do play the occasional charity gig, which must at least help assuage Pizzazz’s desire for adulation but those rare events are few and far between. She suspects that Pizzazz was burned one too many times during the hijinks the band committed during their heyday. Maybe her lust for fame has faded to embers.
***
The Misfits’ Christmas tradition started sometime before the band’s popularity tanked. In fact, it may have been at the height of their success when the tradition originated.
It goes like this. Gabor Enterprises owns several buildings across the country, some of which are condominiums. Pizzazz found that she likes spending Christmas in a colder climate. Truth be told, she likes it because it is so unlike Los Angeles and she wants nothing to remind her of her agonizing holidays as a child. It was sometime between Thanksgiving and Christmas when her mother left.
So the Misfits fly to Chicago where two fully-furnished condos await them in a posh high-rise. Every year Roxy and Jetta complain that they grew up with cold weather and don’t want it again during the holidays, but their complaints are without zeal.
The band usually gets in a day or two before Christmas Eve and goes shopping. On Christmas Eve, they assemble in one condo for the evening’s festivities. The fireplace is lit and a roaring fire warms them after the shopping spree. Huge windows overlook Michigan Avenue, the festive lights and commotion of the city against the dark sky during a holiday provides excitement.
They will have ordered a catered turkey and ham, and gourmet desserts. Stormer prepares all the other dishes herself, occasionally assisted by Roxy and Jetta. Pizzazz has never cooked and still proudly declares that she never will. The side dishes will make the entire condo smell delectable and include fresh baked bread with copious butter, mouth-watering potato dishes (either twice baked potatoes with sour cream and chives or traditional mashed potatoes, awash in butter), quiches (usually spinach and mushroom or broccoli and mushroom, and always containing lots of cheese), and at least one or two vegetable casseroles (which are never dull or overcooked, and are largely made for Roxy).
Over drinks such as Kahlua and crème or spiked apple cider (Pizzazz instead drinking her trademark Midori), they open gifts. Each woman has purchased three gifts, one for each of her bandmates. Due to the Misfits’ earlier success, none of them ever has to work again; they each have a few million (and Pizzazz, of course, will inherit billions). Things may someday become tight for Roxy, since she has Bette to raise and still has money-management issues --- but she knows that she and Bette can live at the Gabor mansion their entire lives and she’s improved her spending and savings habits anyway. Perhaps because each woman has whatever material possessions she wants, their gifts to each other are never too elaborate. One’s presents will consist of things such as a leather purse, a bottle of designer perfume, perhaps a monogrammed instrument case, or even a stack of DVDs. Sometimes the gifts are funny and sometimes raunchy; Roxy once gave Pizzazz a basket full of sex toys complete with lube, erotic reading materials, and scarily-large vibrators in assorted colors.
After dinner is eaten and the gifts are unwrapped, the band chats until they fall asleep. Although two condos are always reserved, each containing two bedrooms, the second one is generally not used on Christmas Eve. Usually someone falls asleep on the living room sofa, one or two others on a sleeping bag (availing themselves of the fireplace), leaving ample room when you add in the two bedrooms.
Then on Christmas Day, they typically do things like give each other manicures and pedicures, and sit around playing cards and munching leftovers (Stormer always cooks too much and even ravenous eaters like the Misfits cannot finish off an entire turkey and ham in one day). Pizzazz and Roxy in particular have gotten really into video games and so the group will have some marathon sessions in front of the TV. A few select DVDs may be played as well. Sometimes they track down a massage therapist or two who will work on Christmas and arrive at the condo with massage table in tow. Their days of running wild through town are over; sometimes they are shocked when they think back to their old shenanigans. Roxy has a blurry memory of once nearly causing a riot on a cruise ship.
Jetta can’t explain why sitting on the floor, unwrapping gifts (gifts which she could easily afford herself) with her bandmates, being warmed by the fireplace, and drinking rich sweet booze is always as ….exciting and fulfilling as it is. She suspects it has something to do with too many miserable Christmases experienced as children. They never talk about it though. Whatever the case, she never seriously considered failing to return home this year and had actually already purchased her plane tickets before Stormer called.
***
Jetta decides to fly to Chicago a few days early and meet the rest of the band there, rather than flying first to Los Angeles. Logistically it makes more sense to go directly to Chicago from London, plus it will give her a couple days to get over the jet lag before she sees her bandmates. One of the furnished condos is waiting for Jetta when she arrives.
On the 23rd, she waits for the rest of the group at the gate. She hugs each of them warmly and unselfconsciously, hanging on to each embrace for several seconds. The last two days alone at the condo left her craving company. At least the saxophonist is over her jet lag now. After their hug, Pizzazz makes some remark along the lines of, “It took you long enough to get your butt back to the U.S.!” which Jetta knows is her way of saying that she has been missed, despite Pizzazz’s cantankerous tone.
Jetta sees that Pizzazz’s hair is now dyed medium-blonde, a color that doesn’t suit her complexion. Jetta surveys her friend and again thinks that Pizzazz’s natural brown is probably the only color that’s going to look good on her, unless she someday reverts to the green hair dye which complemented her eyes so well. Roxy’s hair is platinum blond and Stormer, looking quite lovely, is experimenting with a flattering auburn. It far surpasses the carroty, Kimber Benton-ish shade she had last boasted. Roxy’s lost some of the weight she gained with her pregnancy but not all of it; actually the new pounds look good on her, her face is somehow smoother and she now has cleavage that Jetta envies. Bette is sleeping through all of the commotion. Jetta touches her soft hand, not wanting to wake her. During the limo ride, Bette is up and Jetta marvels at the child’s mild nature and the tenderness Roxy uses to interact with her and coax her away from a tired cry. Bette’s eyes are her mother’s, but the rest of her face - broad forehead, small mouth - come from her father, which is unfortunate.
***
On the 24th, their Christmas Eve tradition proceeds as usual, despite the new ingredient of Bette. This year Stormer has, in addition to buying her bandmates gifts, also made donations to charities in their names. “After all, we gotta think about what the purpose of Christmas is in the first place,” she states, as she hands out envelopes that confirm her donations. Jetta looks at hers and sees that Stormer has purchased a goat for a family in Nepal on Jetta’s behalf. She has to think for a minute or two about where Nepal is. Pizzazz rolls her eyes but refrains from any negative comment. Roxy is oddly touched. Having Bette has made her think about a lot of things she had forgotten.
Bette is, of course, showered with toys. She’s too young to appreciate them yet but Jetta actually can’t squelch a feeling of excitement at the thought that, within a few years, Christmas will be magical and special for the little girl. Jetta thinks she wants to be around for that.
Bette does cry during some of the festivities. Jetta observes Pizzazz being amazingly patient with the situation, and Roxy lovingly quieting her daughter. At one point Roxy unceremoniously lifts her shirt to breastfeed the baby.
Later Jetta has to blink when she sees Pizzazz making cute faces and cooing at the baby. She wonders if a young Vietnamese woman named Ba Nee knows what she may have sparked, years ago, with a kiss at a farewell party.
“So, like, what are we gonna do?” Roxy asks, much later once their bellies are full and wrapping paper is strewn about the room. They’re sitting on the floor, leaning against the plush sofa as Bette sleeps soundly in her nearby crib. The fireplace crackles and the city noises are starting to wind down. A soft layer of white snow gently descends on the city; it is a beautiful site from the 28th floor condo. The wall they are facing has floor-to-ceiling windows, affording them a breathtaking view. “We gonna work on another album next year?”
“I think we will someday,” Pizzazz said. “Maybe not next year. But maybe.”
“I think we can do it all over again,” Stormer says. “The industry moves in circles. Maybe our style of music will come back again. And maybe some of the stuff we’ve been working on will get appreciated more. I think we just keep our eyes open for the right opportunity for a comeback.”
Pizzazz nods. “And we have someone other than Eric Raymond manage it.”
“Maybe we manage it ourselves,” Jetta suggests. “We know a lot about the music business.”
Pizzazz opens her mouth to ask the saxophonist whether that means she’s finished with her half-year sojourns in England, but Jetta is already turning towards Stormer and asking, “So what’s the story on that bloke Dean? You haven’t mentioned him too much today or yesterday.”
Roxy preempts Stormer’s reply. “Oh, don’t worry. She’s only keepin’ it to herself ‘cause he means so much to her. They’re pretty serious.”
“Really?” Jetta asks, an eyebrow raised. “So why aren’t you with him now?”
“Because he’s visiting his family in Fresno,” Stormer said. She then adds, “No, that’s not it. It’s really because you guys come first, no matter what. You always will --- whether Dean’s in Fresno or not.” She smiles and says, “I’d better stop before Pizzazz tells me I sound too wimpy.”
“I was gonna say mushy, but wimpy’ll work too,” Pizzazz says, but she is smiling; her meaning is the same as the on-surface nasty comment she gave Jetta at the airport’s gate.
Jetta takes a glance at Bette. She’s adorable and content right where she is. The baby has the right idea, Jetta decides.
After another hour or so, the festivities have died down and the group is tired. Roxy is snoring on the sofa. Stormer is quite content, cuddled in a sleeping bag in front of the fireplace and drifting off to sleep.
“Which room you want?” Pizzazz asks. Jetta finds it hilarious that Pizzazz is considerately whispering so as not to wake the others and even asking Jetta her rooming preference.
“I’ve been using this one,” Jetta points at the smaller room. She knew Pizzazz would prefer the larger of the two -the one with its own bathroom -- and therefore left it alone.
Pizzazz peers into Jetta’s room. “Looks like they painted your room too since last year,” she observes. The condo has recently been given a facelift.
“I was gobsmacked at the new furniture. And I can’t believe this lilac color works in here but it’s quite lovely. Come see.”
Pizzazz follows Jetta into the room. Despite the fact that 1:00 a.m. is approaching (the band does not keep the late hours it used to), she is not tired. With a sigh, she sits on the corner of Jetta’s bed.
“So how are you doin’, luv?” Jetta asks, seating herself on the recliner opposite the bed.
“Alright,” Pizzazz shrugs.
“Stormer might be right. Maybe we can do it all over again. Maybe someday we’ll be back on the top of the charts.” During their last tour, they had refrained from performing “Top of the Charts”, ostensibly because they had a large enough catalog of hits to choose from but truly because the lyrics were no longer applicable.
“I hope so.” Pizzazz’s gaze is in the direction of the floor.
“But it might not ever happen,” Jetta says. “If it doesn’t, can you live with that?”
Pizzazz makes a wry smile and notes, “I’ve managed to survive the last five years somehow. I just wish I appreciated it more when we had it. I didn’t start to like it so much till after we called the truce with the Holograms.” After the truce, each band had a few more years of stardom before fading.
Jetta searches for something consoling to say. She herself feels full and nearly joyful; her aimless seven months in England and the last two days with her band have helped her focus on exactly what she wants and needs. She grasps for a straw. “So how’s your yoga class?”
“It’s good.”
“Is there a room for another in the class?”
Pizzazz looks confused for a second and then brightens. “Hell yeah! Does that mean you’re staying in the U.S.?”
“Righteo,” Jetta says, and doesn’t hide the fact that she’s beaming. “Maybe we can work on some songs. And as for this wonky yoga stuff - hell, I’ll try anything once.”
Pizzazz unsuccessfully hides her happiness. Once a Misfit, always a Misfit.
Jetta will tell Stormer and Roxy her decision over tomorrow’s brunch. She knows where her home is, though she definitely won’t tell them that.
Pizzazz retires to her room for a contented sleep.
THE END
Author’s Note:
I hope you enjoyed the fic. I wish to emphasize that this interpretation of the Misfits’ (and Jem and the Holograms’) faded popularity in the nineties is just one speculation on what life after the TV series may have brought. I also think it is equally possible that the band’s success would have continued well into the next decade and beyond. The Misfits are survivors, they know how to handle the industry, and they have an amazing songwriter in the bunch. Who knows…I may someday write a fic where they are still superstars, years after the series’ end.
Author: stormkpr
Fandom: Jem
Pairing: none, gen
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A Misfits holiday fic that takes place about 10 years after the end of the series.
We Wish You a Misfits Christmas
Author’s Note: This is a stand-alone fic; unrelated to any of my other works. With thanks and hugs to my beta, Denisia. Rated PG-13 for one “adult” reference.
***
The once-intense rivalry between The Misfits and Jem and the Holograms is now irrelevant. Both bands have been discarded from the mainstream of pop culture, along with legwarmers and hair crimpers, despite their long runs of popularity and solid music throughout the eighties. Grunge rose up in the nineties and toppled the dance/pop of the prior decade. Rap and hip hop also came front and center.
Both bands released albums into the early/mid-nineties. The Misfits’ last release, four years ago now, received critical acclaim (and fans clamoring that it was the group’s best ever) but no airplay on either the radio or music television. Their last tour had taken them to venues that could at best be termed modest.
Pizzazz sits in front of the television, feeling a distant sense of loss as she watches the two videos they filmed for the album. The second video had been made with a sense of desperate depression, knowing the first single had bombed and that its successor would likely face the same fate, due to nothing that the band could control. Pizzazz watches their images, stirred up with thoughts of how the video must have looked to the public - a rock band from the eighties so obviously passé and trying so painfully hard to look relevant. The video was filmed in sedate black and white, containing none of the decadent images from the eighties -- no bright clothing or exploding fireworks. The Misfits’ hairstyles were less layered, and their make-up conservative, designed to hide encroaching signs of aging rather than to shock onlookers with bold lines on cheeks and foreheads. At least one Misfit had put on some weight, years of the group’s love of food having caught up with metabolisms that used to be faster than the motorcycles they sometimes still ride.
Fan club members had raved about the music and video - and Pizzazz knows, despite her eternal deficit of real confidence, that the music had been some of their best. But the powers that be, the ones who controlled the industry and thus the record-buying public, decided that their style of music was over. Even Eric Raymond has turned his attention to managing grunge groups from Seattle and teen bands that don’t even write their own music.
Knowing that Jem and the Holograms - and many other “older” acts -- are in a similar predicament provides miniscule comfort to Pizzazz. Of the other eighties supergroups, only the Stingers have found a way to manage the grunge invasion and still retain some level of popularity. Chameleon-like, the trio drastically changes their look and sound every couple years and thus has managed to survive in the industry. They collaborate with a rap artist on three tracks of their latest release. Pizzazz shakes her head, shutting the television off when a Stingers video appears. Although she hasn’t seen Riot for years, too many uncomfortable memories remain.
Jem and the Holograms, three-fifths of whom are now married, apparently have taken happily to domesticity and running Starlight House and Starlight Music. Kimber has a fairly successful solo career; both of her albums have done moderately well compared to the other nineties female singer/songwriters. Jerrica has thrown herself into running Starlight Music which is turning a handsome profit. Jem makes rare public appearances to stump for various charities. Shana and Anthony now have two sons. She still designs fashions when she can but taking care of two boys under the age of four means that her free time is at a premium. Aja and Craig recently tied the knot, and she is now accompanying the Blue Bloods on their breakthrough U.S. tour. Since the Blue Bloods were not a mainstream hit in the eighties, they do not bear the eighties stigma. His career has taken a backseat to hers for so long; it is now her turn to reciprocate. Raya and her husband have a daughter and are now living in a Manhattan high-rise; he is an executive at some large corporation on the East Coast. Raya misses her family and band but has joyously taken to motherhood, wouldn’t trade little Veronica for any of it, and looks forward to having another baby soon. She and Shana used to exchange drumming tips, but now child-raising is the main focus of their phone calls.
Pizzazz is eternally discontent but now her discontent is more like a distant, barely-audible ringing in her ears, rather than the decibel-bursting scream it used to be. She takes never-expressed comfort in the fact that Roxy and Stormer still choose to live with her in the Gabor mansion and she no longer minds admitting to herself that she likes their company. She is dimly aware that she’s done some pretty low things to them in the past, has called them ‘idiot’ and ‘stupid’ more than once. But that was a decade ago and Pizzazz knows that the trespasses, never spoken of now, have been either forgotten or forgiven.
Stormer occasionally writes music - either for the Misfits or sometimes with Kimber. Two of the songs on Kimber’s last album were co-written with Stormer, and the Misfit sang back up on one of them. But neither the Misfits nor the duo Kimber and Stormer have plans to release material, at least not in the near future.
And then there’s Jetta. Jetta goes to England for a few months each year, has been doing so since the last album. Her time spent in England has increased steadily each year. December is now approaching and Pizzazz hasn’t seen Jetta since June, though they talk on the phone.
***
Jetta wanders in the London fog, breathing the rich, windy weather and wondering what she’s doing. She shakes her head and realizes she’s made a wrong turn and needs to backtrack. She has wandered into a neighborhood dangerous for a solo female and now retraces her steps. The East End can be pretty rough. She thrusts her hands inside her pockets, wishing she hadn’t forgotten her gloves in this chilly November weather.
Jetta doesn’t know why she keeps going back to England. She certainly doesn’t have close ties with any of her family members. For a while she’s felt like she belongs home but can’t figure out what she’s supposed to do in London. She played in a band there for a short while but it never felt right, never clicked. Their music was nothing compared to the Misfits’, even if the style they played was what was hip now. She also hated to admit to herself how old she felt compared to the band members, most of whom were her juniors by about a decade. She’s never mentioned her dalliance with the other group to any of the Misfits during their phone conversations.
She returns to her flat in time to pick up the ringing phone.
“Well, you are coming home - er, here, for Christmas, aren’t you?” Stormer asks, after they chat for a bit. “You’ve got to see Bette. She’s grown so much.”
”I would like to see her,” she says of Roxy’s ten month old baby, the product of a brief liaison with a local musician. They’ve split, he’s been to see the baby once, shortly after which he admitted to Roxy over the phone that it’s too soon for him to be a father and he thinks it would be best if he keeps his distance. Roxy shrugged, managing to keep her happiness concealed. She thinks it would be best if they keep their distance too.
“It wouldn’t be the same without you,” Stormer says. The Misfits have an annual holiday tradition.
“Don’t worry, ducks,” Jetta says, wondering if Pizzazz put Stormer up to the potential pleading. The singer was too proud to do it herself. “I’ll be there.”
***
Sitting in the spacious business-class seat, Jetta tries to fall back asleep but is unable. A flight attendant is hovering over the businessman in the seat in front of hers, offering drinks, and Jetta hopes they have Carlsburg on board. If she can’t sleep, at least she can drink.
She wonders how Pizzazz is handing the baby. Pizzazz hates kids. Last time Pizzazz and Jetta talked about it, Pizzazz giggled saying that her father still hasn’t said anything about Bette or given any signs that he knew a baby now resided in his mansion. Not that Pizzazz and Harvey talk any more than they used to.
When Jetta left in June, Roxy was apparently doing the best she could at being a parent, with Stormer helping to closely monitor baby’s nap time and feeding habits. A nanny takes Bette for several hours a day, allowing Roxy and company to enjoy the much-appreciated Misfits art of doing nothing.
Stormer has a boyfriend; Jetta hasn’t met him yet, and apparently it’s not super-serious now but has the potential to be. Stormer has never talked too much of the other guys she’s dated, but she mentions Dean occasionally. Jetta wonders what this might mean to their - the Misfits’ -- arrangement. Pizzazz is still doing her usual thing, running through men as if they were disposable razors.
Jetta mentally peruses the list of what else her bandmates have been up to, other than raising Bette. Stormer now spends one day a week teaching inner city kids how to play guitar. Pizzazz has actually taken up yoga, which shocked Jetta when Roxy and Stormer mentioned it during a recent three-way call. Jetta wants pictures.
Jetta reclines her seat further as she wonders what keeps calling her back to England. Certainly not her biological family. Her father died of heart disease a few years ago. Jetta sends money to Flo; Flo tracks her down and asks for more at least once a year. Jetta tries to avoid seeing her, or any of the rest of the brood. Once Flo - perhaps delighted at the envelope of bills her daughter just handed over -- reached to hug Jetta. It was an awkward moment; in 34 years Jetta can count on one hand - with fingers to spare -- the last time she experienced some affection from her mother. Now Jetta makes sure to just mail her mother a check instead of risking another face-to-face meeting. Jetta has one cousin in London whose presence she can tolerate, a young artist named Miki (nee Michelle), with short, spiked hair and a studio always bubbling with musicians, painters, and the like. Other than her, Jetta pretty much wants nothing to do with the rest of the clan.
A couple of hours pass. The in-flight movie is boring and she’s finished her magazine. She can’t get comfortable, even in the cushiony seat with the footrest. Jetta’s thoughts roll again. Her seven months in England were a bust and she is as directionless as she’s been since the Misfits’ success faded. She knows that she doesn’t want a baby like Roxy has, hasn’t met a guy worth settling down with (in fact, has been enjoying a hiatus from dating for the time being), hasn’t found another band she’s clicked with. Jetta tried writing a zippy autobiography but ran out of interest around page 10. She even enrolled in a few classes at university, hoping to uncover a new facet of herself. She dropped the Fashion Design class quickly but stayed with Anthropology, easily acing the exams (she’s always been smart, once she applies herself) but finding no real passion for the topic. One afternoon she found herself hooking up with a tour company and riding a double-decker bus with a gaggle of American tourists. For someone who fought tooth and nail to rise above her beginnings, she is baffled by her continued return to the place of her birth.
Pizzazz should have been the one to take their fall from popularity the hardest. Jetta marvels at the fact that Pizzazz is handling it at all. The Misfits do play the occasional charity gig, which must at least help assuage Pizzazz’s desire for adulation but those rare events are few and far between. She suspects that Pizzazz was burned one too many times during the hijinks the band committed during their heyday. Maybe her lust for fame has faded to embers.
***
The Misfits’ Christmas tradition started sometime before the band’s popularity tanked. In fact, it may have been at the height of their success when the tradition originated.
It goes like this. Gabor Enterprises owns several buildings across the country, some of which are condominiums. Pizzazz found that she likes spending Christmas in a colder climate. Truth be told, she likes it because it is so unlike Los Angeles and she wants nothing to remind her of her agonizing holidays as a child. It was sometime between Thanksgiving and Christmas when her mother left.
So the Misfits fly to Chicago where two fully-furnished condos await them in a posh high-rise. Every year Roxy and Jetta complain that they grew up with cold weather and don’t want it again during the holidays, but their complaints are without zeal.
The band usually gets in a day or two before Christmas Eve and goes shopping. On Christmas Eve, they assemble in one condo for the evening’s festivities. The fireplace is lit and a roaring fire warms them after the shopping spree. Huge windows overlook Michigan Avenue, the festive lights and commotion of the city against the dark sky during a holiday provides excitement.
They will have ordered a catered turkey and ham, and gourmet desserts. Stormer prepares all the other dishes herself, occasionally assisted by Roxy and Jetta. Pizzazz has never cooked and still proudly declares that she never will. The side dishes will make the entire condo smell delectable and include fresh baked bread with copious butter, mouth-watering potato dishes (either twice baked potatoes with sour cream and chives or traditional mashed potatoes, awash in butter), quiches (usually spinach and mushroom or broccoli and mushroom, and always containing lots of cheese), and at least one or two vegetable casseroles (which are never dull or overcooked, and are largely made for Roxy).
Over drinks such as Kahlua and crème or spiked apple cider (Pizzazz instead drinking her trademark Midori), they open gifts. Each woman has purchased three gifts, one for each of her bandmates. Due to the Misfits’ earlier success, none of them ever has to work again; they each have a few million (and Pizzazz, of course, will inherit billions). Things may someday become tight for Roxy, since she has Bette to raise and still has money-management issues --- but she knows that she and Bette can live at the Gabor mansion their entire lives and she’s improved her spending and savings habits anyway. Perhaps because each woman has whatever material possessions she wants, their gifts to each other are never too elaborate. One’s presents will consist of things such as a leather purse, a bottle of designer perfume, perhaps a monogrammed instrument case, or even a stack of DVDs. Sometimes the gifts are funny and sometimes raunchy; Roxy once gave Pizzazz a basket full of sex toys complete with lube, erotic reading materials, and scarily-large vibrators in assorted colors.
After dinner is eaten and the gifts are unwrapped, the band chats until they fall asleep. Although two condos are always reserved, each containing two bedrooms, the second one is generally not used on Christmas Eve. Usually someone falls asleep on the living room sofa, one or two others on a sleeping bag (availing themselves of the fireplace), leaving ample room when you add in the two bedrooms.
Then on Christmas Day, they typically do things like give each other manicures and pedicures, and sit around playing cards and munching leftovers (Stormer always cooks too much and even ravenous eaters like the Misfits cannot finish off an entire turkey and ham in one day). Pizzazz and Roxy in particular have gotten really into video games and so the group will have some marathon sessions in front of the TV. A few select DVDs may be played as well. Sometimes they track down a massage therapist or two who will work on Christmas and arrive at the condo with massage table in tow. Their days of running wild through town are over; sometimes they are shocked when they think back to their old shenanigans. Roxy has a blurry memory of once nearly causing a riot on a cruise ship.
Jetta can’t explain why sitting on the floor, unwrapping gifts (gifts which she could easily afford herself) with her bandmates, being warmed by the fireplace, and drinking rich sweet booze is always as ….exciting and fulfilling as it is. She suspects it has something to do with too many miserable Christmases experienced as children. They never talk about it though. Whatever the case, she never seriously considered failing to return home this year and had actually already purchased her plane tickets before Stormer called.
***
Jetta decides to fly to Chicago a few days early and meet the rest of the band there, rather than flying first to Los Angeles. Logistically it makes more sense to go directly to Chicago from London, plus it will give her a couple days to get over the jet lag before she sees her bandmates. One of the furnished condos is waiting for Jetta when she arrives.
On the 23rd, she waits for the rest of the group at the gate. She hugs each of them warmly and unselfconsciously, hanging on to each embrace for several seconds. The last two days alone at the condo left her craving company. At least the saxophonist is over her jet lag now. After their hug, Pizzazz makes some remark along the lines of, “It took you long enough to get your butt back to the U.S.!” which Jetta knows is her way of saying that she has been missed, despite Pizzazz’s cantankerous tone.
Jetta sees that Pizzazz’s hair is now dyed medium-blonde, a color that doesn’t suit her complexion. Jetta surveys her friend and again thinks that Pizzazz’s natural brown is probably the only color that’s going to look good on her, unless she someday reverts to the green hair dye which complemented her eyes so well. Roxy’s hair is platinum blond and Stormer, looking quite lovely, is experimenting with a flattering auburn. It far surpasses the carroty, Kimber Benton-ish shade she had last boasted. Roxy’s lost some of the weight she gained with her pregnancy but not all of it; actually the new pounds look good on her, her face is somehow smoother and she now has cleavage that Jetta envies. Bette is sleeping through all of the commotion. Jetta touches her soft hand, not wanting to wake her. During the limo ride, Bette is up and Jetta marvels at the child’s mild nature and the tenderness Roxy uses to interact with her and coax her away from a tired cry. Bette’s eyes are her mother’s, but the rest of her face - broad forehead, small mouth - come from her father, which is unfortunate.
***
On the 24th, their Christmas Eve tradition proceeds as usual, despite the new ingredient of Bette. This year Stormer has, in addition to buying her bandmates gifts, also made donations to charities in their names. “After all, we gotta think about what the purpose of Christmas is in the first place,” she states, as she hands out envelopes that confirm her donations. Jetta looks at hers and sees that Stormer has purchased a goat for a family in Nepal on Jetta’s behalf. She has to think for a minute or two about where Nepal is. Pizzazz rolls her eyes but refrains from any negative comment. Roxy is oddly touched. Having Bette has made her think about a lot of things she had forgotten.
Bette is, of course, showered with toys. She’s too young to appreciate them yet but Jetta actually can’t squelch a feeling of excitement at the thought that, within a few years, Christmas will be magical and special for the little girl. Jetta thinks she wants to be around for that.
Bette does cry during some of the festivities. Jetta observes Pizzazz being amazingly patient with the situation, and Roxy lovingly quieting her daughter. At one point Roxy unceremoniously lifts her shirt to breastfeed the baby.
Later Jetta has to blink when she sees Pizzazz making cute faces and cooing at the baby. She wonders if a young Vietnamese woman named Ba Nee knows what she may have sparked, years ago, with a kiss at a farewell party.
“So, like, what are we gonna do?” Roxy asks, much later once their bellies are full and wrapping paper is strewn about the room. They’re sitting on the floor, leaning against the plush sofa as Bette sleeps soundly in her nearby crib. The fireplace crackles and the city noises are starting to wind down. A soft layer of white snow gently descends on the city; it is a beautiful site from the 28th floor condo. The wall they are facing has floor-to-ceiling windows, affording them a breathtaking view. “We gonna work on another album next year?”
“I think we will someday,” Pizzazz said. “Maybe not next year. But maybe.”
“I think we can do it all over again,” Stormer says. “The industry moves in circles. Maybe our style of music will come back again. And maybe some of the stuff we’ve been working on will get appreciated more. I think we just keep our eyes open for the right opportunity for a comeback.”
Pizzazz nods. “And we have someone other than Eric Raymond manage it.”
“Maybe we manage it ourselves,” Jetta suggests. “We know a lot about the music business.”
Pizzazz opens her mouth to ask the saxophonist whether that means she’s finished with her half-year sojourns in England, but Jetta is already turning towards Stormer and asking, “So what’s the story on that bloke Dean? You haven’t mentioned him too much today or yesterday.”
Roxy preempts Stormer’s reply. “Oh, don’t worry. She’s only keepin’ it to herself ‘cause he means so much to her. They’re pretty serious.”
“Really?” Jetta asks, an eyebrow raised. “So why aren’t you with him now?”
“Because he’s visiting his family in Fresno,” Stormer said. She then adds, “No, that’s not it. It’s really because you guys come first, no matter what. You always will --- whether Dean’s in Fresno or not.” She smiles and says, “I’d better stop before Pizzazz tells me I sound too wimpy.”
“I was gonna say mushy, but wimpy’ll work too,” Pizzazz says, but she is smiling; her meaning is the same as the on-surface nasty comment she gave Jetta at the airport’s gate.
Jetta takes a glance at Bette. She’s adorable and content right where she is. The baby has the right idea, Jetta decides.
After another hour or so, the festivities have died down and the group is tired. Roxy is snoring on the sofa. Stormer is quite content, cuddled in a sleeping bag in front of the fireplace and drifting off to sleep.
“Which room you want?” Pizzazz asks. Jetta finds it hilarious that Pizzazz is considerately whispering so as not to wake the others and even asking Jetta her rooming preference.
“I’ve been using this one,” Jetta points at the smaller room. She knew Pizzazz would prefer the larger of the two -the one with its own bathroom -- and therefore left it alone.
Pizzazz peers into Jetta’s room. “Looks like they painted your room too since last year,” she observes. The condo has recently been given a facelift.
“I was gobsmacked at the new furniture. And I can’t believe this lilac color works in here but it’s quite lovely. Come see.”
Pizzazz follows Jetta into the room. Despite the fact that 1:00 a.m. is approaching (the band does not keep the late hours it used to), she is not tired. With a sigh, she sits on the corner of Jetta’s bed.
“So how are you doin’, luv?” Jetta asks, seating herself on the recliner opposite the bed.
“Alright,” Pizzazz shrugs.
“Stormer might be right. Maybe we can do it all over again. Maybe someday we’ll be back on the top of the charts.” During their last tour, they had refrained from performing “Top of the Charts”, ostensibly because they had a large enough catalog of hits to choose from but truly because the lyrics were no longer applicable.
“I hope so.” Pizzazz’s gaze is in the direction of the floor.
“But it might not ever happen,” Jetta says. “If it doesn’t, can you live with that?”
Pizzazz makes a wry smile and notes, “I’ve managed to survive the last five years somehow. I just wish I appreciated it more when we had it. I didn’t start to like it so much till after we called the truce with the Holograms.” After the truce, each band had a few more years of stardom before fading.
Jetta searches for something consoling to say. She herself feels full and nearly joyful; her aimless seven months in England and the last two days with her band have helped her focus on exactly what she wants and needs. She grasps for a straw. “So how’s your yoga class?”
“It’s good.”
“Is there a room for another in the class?”
Pizzazz looks confused for a second and then brightens. “Hell yeah! Does that mean you’re staying in the U.S.?”
“Righteo,” Jetta says, and doesn’t hide the fact that she’s beaming. “Maybe we can work on some songs. And as for this wonky yoga stuff - hell, I’ll try anything once.”
Pizzazz unsuccessfully hides her happiness. Once a Misfit, always a Misfit.
Jetta will tell Stormer and Roxy her decision over tomorrow’s brunch. She knows where her home is, though she definitely won’t tell them that.
Pizzazz retires to her room for a contented sleep.
THE END
Author’s Note:
I hope you enjoyed the fic. I wish to emphasize that this interpretation of the Misfits’ (and Jem and the Holograms’) faded popularity in the nineties is just one speculation on what life after the TV series may have brought. I also think it is equally possible that the band’s success would have continued well into the next decade and beyond. The Misfits are survivors, they know how to handle the industry, and they have an amazing songwriter in the bunch. Who knows…I may someday write a fic where they are still superstars, years after the series’ end.