Sell Yr Soul 4 Rock’N’Roll [2/6]

Sell Yr Soul 4 Rock’N’Roll (Part Two)
by Jennifer-Oksana
Fandom: Battlestar Galactica
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Six/Baltar, Starbuck/D’Anna/Kat
Disclaimer: Moore’s the man with the master plan.
Summary: Sex, drugs, and making fun of the keyboardist. Band AU, all parts finished listed here.

Sell Yr Soul 4 Rock’N’Roll
Part II: d.Anna Biers

Skinjob (9/10)

Looking at the cover of the album — a pin-up quality shot of the very female line-up now using the classic band’s name — one might get the idea that Laura Roslin has finally become the pop diva she threatened to be in classic songs like “Lost With You” and “Don’t.”

Krypter, of course, was always more of a loose way to group the musicians backing up Roslin’s voice and curiously tough lyrical stylings than a band. So her new, obscure juniors who’ve been displayed like eye candy have an unpleasant task: to look good and play well without calling too much attention to themselves.

For the most part they pull it off, though Roslin’s lyrical taste is tempered by a youthful spunk that is jarring at first. By the cheeky, punk-flavored “Get Back,” anchored by KT’s exuberant drums, you’ve forgotten that Roslin is in her early fifties and coming off her own tragedies. The same woman who could hold the stage with Rich Adar, Leonard Moon, and Pete Roberts is in full voice, wise and dangerous.

“I know you want to hear/The tragedy, not the story,” Roslin informs us bluntly on “Brother Love Blues” which falters in part because of Natasi Harvey’s overambitious keyboards. She’s right. But for all of that, the closest we get to an explanation for the last three years of Roslin’s life is her cover of “Gods Bless the Child.” The keyboard work in this, and the slight stumble of Roslin’s voice over the blues classic is all the more poignant.

“Them that’s got shall get,” she half-breathes to Harvey’s melody and bassist d.Anna Biers’s solid rhythm. “Them that’s not shall lose.” While many are hoping passionately for a cover of the (vastly overrated) “Dear Me, Love You,” they miss this unusual confessional at their own peril.

We may no longer live in the age of musical giants, but with Krypter’s return to the stage, we can hear how those giants have lived on and been mourned.

“What the frak is wrong with wearing rhinestones?” d.Anna asked, looking at the sexy top with outright longing.

Natasi had split to go have sex with her useless record-label boyfriend, Boomer had finally crashed, and so KT, Laura, and d.Anna were discussing what they were supposed to wear to the release party at the Roxsie later. Unsurprisingly, given her stupid butch thing, KT thought the rhinestone-studded top d.Anna planned to wear was stupid.

“It’s so desperate,” KT said. “Plus, it looks too much like what I’m going to wear. I have sparkly shit on my jeans.”

“That’s different from having a rhinestone top,” d.Anna said. “What’s on your shirt?”

“It’s this awesome print t-shirt I bought for eighty-five cubits,” KT said with her goofy smile that was always for Laura. “It’s studded, black-and-white, and classy. I remembered what you said.”

What Laura had said was in response to KT’s rather risque tank top at the band’s first public appearance. And by rather risque, d.Anna remembered with a smirk the expression on GB’s usually jaded little face over seeing “Righteous Cunt” spelled out over KT’s tits.

“Studs aren’t the same as rhinestones, so we should be okay,” d.Anna said. “I like this shirt.”

“It’s fine, but don’t wear jeans. We’ll look like twins. Wear those black flares, OK?” KT said, folding her arms and leaning back. “They look good on your round ass anyway.”

“Sometimes you’re right even when you’re being a bitch, KT,” d.Anna said. “So, Laura, what the hell does happen at these things, anyway?”

“People get very drunk, people gossip, people make asses of themselves, and at some point they’ll play the album and people will pretend to give good gods damn,” Laura said with a dry shrug. “They’ll take a lot of pictures, hence the dressing up.”

“Will the booze at least be good?” d.Anna asked.

“For us it will be,” Laura said. “There’s always a better set of bottles in the back. The caterers usually like the band and not the press, so we’ll drink well.”

“Awesome,” KT said. “Can I spike up my hair?”

“Only if you get it done by a stylist,” Laura said. d.Anna smirked dryly — neatly done by the rock mama — and looked at her red and sparkly top. It laced up the side and she just liked it. Especially with the spike-heeled suede boots she’d bought with GB’s money.

GB’s money spent even sweeter than her own, d.Anna had to admit. And her money spent just fine by her.

“A stylist? Do I have time to go to a stylist?” KT asked. “You’re not making Boomer go to a stylist.”

“Oh, yes, I am,” Laura said with a smirk. “But she called her friend Karl this morning to bring her clothes over so the both of us could do our hair and make-up in the comfort of my very nice home.”

KT bristled. “And what about me?” she asked. “Everyone’s SOL for your new favorite Booomah, huh?”

“Would you like to stay here this afternoon and use the stylist, too?” Laura asked, grinning outrageously.

“Hell yes,” KT said.

“What about you, Dee?” Laura asked, tilting her head at d.Anna with a raised shoulder. “You’re invited, too.”

“No, that’s…that’s okay,” d.Anna said. “I have somewhere I have to go first. Is GB sending us separate limos, or just one?”

“He’ll at least need one more for him and Natasi,” KT said with a bawdy snort. “He’s gotta frak his rock star in the limo after all, or face not being a complete cliche.”

“Even if she is just a keyboardist,” d.Anna added with a nasty little smile.

They did it quietly, the hidden ones. Twelve models, maybe two or three of each on each world. Maybe just one. d.Anna wasn’t sure. Was never sure. She knew Natasi was one of the Sixes, she was a Three, and the burnout that she’d swear was the band’s drug dealer (if anyone ever bothered to ask) was an Eleven.

He was the only one d.Anna had really spent time with, besides the two other Threes she’d met, and Natasi.

He called himself Leoben.

Leoben was kind of a prick, but for a mystic he was an okay guy, and he did have the drugs when she needed them, so it could be worse.

But there were things they just knew, Cylons. d.Anna loved it. Touch a certain monitor, and she’d know it wasn’t a monitor. It was a signpost, it was a little Cylon itself.

One of the things she knew was where they had their temple.

It wasn’t that the one God needed temples, or that He frowned on His children using the pagan Colonial temples. But there was something centering about it. Knowing that she wasn’t the only Cylon in the world. Or even that the only other Cylon was the GB-frakking, anorexic stick otherwise.

Really. d.Anna didn’t hate Natasi, but she was a piss-poor model of a Cylon, God’s chosen children. This was no way to prove that God loved everyone, by being a slime-frakking…

There it was.

d.Anna sat down next to the fountain, putting her fingers against the graffiti scratched into the side and closing her eyes.

There it was.

Unity. Love. Presence.

All of the things d.Anna craved. All of the things that she sometimes felt from the music.

It was never enough with the music, though.

“Thank you,” d.Anna whispered. “Thank you, God.”

God’s love was peace. She knew that.

She also knew she had a problem finding peace even with God’s love. And tonight she was going to have to fight some incredible frakking performance anxiety.

d.Anna took another deep breath. She could smell the slightly chlorinated water of the fountain, hear birds singing, feel the slight breeze on her arms.

Then she opened her eyes and pulled out her phone.

“Hello, Leoben,” she murmured, punching in 2 on her phone.

“It’s Colonial poison,” Leoben said. “Their souls are so dead to God’s message that they find derivative paths to his love.”

d.Anna rolled her eyes. “So why do you sell it, jackass?” she asked, looking at herself in the mirror. Good outfit. It was a tremendously good outfit. She looked grown-up but still great in it.

“I have to eat,” Leoben answered. “And these people have great gaping holes in them.”

“Well, here’s enough money to feed you for a month,” d.Anna said sourly, handing over her roll. “Spend it well, brother.”

Leoben looked after her disapprovingly, but handed over the small kit bag. d.Anna took it.

“If you gave your heart more fully to God, you wouldn’t need that,” Leoben said. “Neither you nor our other sister who travels in darkness.”

“Get out,” d.Anna said irritably. Leoben left, and d.Anna waited until the door had closed to open her bag.

Paradise. A collection of pills, powders, and her favorite — the injectables.

She had just enough time, too. Enough time to put on the makeup, shoot up, and be waiting for the rest of the band when they arrived.

Her rhinestones sparkled through the little syringe, diffusing the light around the room. d.Anna knew her apartment was still kind of bare for Krypter’s new bassist, but she didn’t mind bare. It was clean and d.Anna needed some clean in her life.

Things got messy, and she didn’t want to be attached to anything.

Just in case she lost.

Her heart was already beating faster, being this close to her public appearance. She’d been clean at the press conference yesterday, and it had been hard to stand.

Next week was going to be hell. The War Memorial Stadium. Actually playing for a crowd.

d.Anna stared at herself in the mirror. She and Natasi were old to be in a band. Everyone would think early thirties, and wonder where they’d come from. Sometimes d.Anna was so sure they’d be outed as Cylons that she couldn’t breathe.

A little more mascara would be good. And the gloss. Good. Too much makeup would make her outfit too look bold.

Natasi had shown her how to do her makeup; one of the benefits of Natasi’s shitty job at the department store after those idiots had bombed in the Capitol in the name of Cylon rights and all the remaining Cylons went way underground. d.Anna would look just fine without dealing with a stylist.

Now, then, for the topper.

Natasi was wearing a slinky red number that looked really good on her, d.Anna thought. But it totally blended with d.Anna’s outfit and didn’t quite match the rock chick look everyone else was sporting. It was an off note in a night full of off notes, and it caught attention.

Hell, Natasi wasn’t even GB’s arm candy to make up for it, and Laura hadn’t been wrong at all about how much these events kind of sucked.

Well, not entirely sucked. d.Anna had been making eyes at this woman, this little sassy bit of a girl with wavy short hair and dirty jeans.

“Oh. My. Gods,” KT said, breezing in behind d.Anna and drumming on her back with her fingers in a light staccato rhythm. “Look who just showed the hell up.”

Turning, d.Anna’s jaw dropped. “Who the hell brought Bill?” she whispered, staring at the stocky man who was walking into the room. “And does the label protect us in case of Laura killing that person with her eyes?”

“Hey, I wonder if they’ll let Lee in,” KT said suddenly, perking up. “Holy shit, is that Ba-Noh?”

As if on cue, Natasi and Boomer were suddenly hustling over to KT and d.Anna’s quiet snarkfest on the arrival of Bill Adama.

“Ba-Noh brought him,” Boomer said. “Oh my gods, and I thought it couldn’t get tackier than the obvious call girls who are currently attached to GB’s ass.”

“Frak him,” Natasi said, sucking on one of her vodka-backed girly drinks. “I bet they’re underage. GB doesn’t have the best screeners.”

“Who cares about what STD GB’s going to get from underaged hookers, people?” KT asked, waving a hand. “Ba-Noh brought Bill to Laura’s release party. In gods know how many decades, when we’re being interviewed about Laura Roslin’s memory, they are going to ask about this party.”

“True,” d.Anna said, sighing happily, leaning back into KT’s fingers. “How the hell does he expect Laura to cover his lame song by dragging her slightly jealous ex-husband…”

“Second ex-husband of three,” Boomer added.

“Into her big comeback party?” d.Anna finished. “Hey, does anyone have the good alcohol for me?”

“No, because you’re out of it,” KT said. “What the fuck are you on?”

“Something to mellow my stage fright,” d.Anna said shortly. “Oh, look, it’s Lee Adama. The legend grows.”

“There are going to be drinks thrown in faces,” Natasi said. “If Laura does that to Bill, do you think I can do it to one of the underaged, STD-carrying hookers with GB?”

“DTMFA,” KT said succinctly. “Dump the motherfrakker already. If you do that, I bet we can get d.Anna into rehab before she ends up the bassist cliche.”

The band was watching the slow motion of Laura Roslin toward Bill Adama and Ba-Noh, with the erratic vector of Lee catching KT’s eye now and again. d.Anna was really starting to find it a little hard to follow.

“He’s awfully…interesting-looking for a big-name actor,” d.Anna said as Laura snatched a crispy wiener-in-flaky-crust hor d’oeuvre off a tray and washing it down with the dregs of her white wine.

“Have you seen many of the former boyfriends? Laura prefers unattractive men,” Boomer said. “I asked her about it when we were jamming? She says it’s because ugly boys can frak. They know they can’t just pick up any girl, but that’s why they keep them.”

KT choked on her drink, and Natasi laughed bitterly. “That’s some choice wisdom, Boomer,” she said as d.Anna watched and swayed.

“She said it, not me,” Boomer said. “It makes sense, though. You know how models always date ugly guys, right? It’s totally because they’re getting it done. I think it makes sense.”

“I bet she slaps one of them,” KT said.

“No way, Laura has some sense,” Natasi said. “That would be hysterical and unclassy.”

KT snorted. “You expect classy from someone who advised us to date ugly boys?” she asked with one of her loopy little shrugs. “Besides, you forget I know the Adamas. Bill isn’t all bad, but if he gets too uptight, he says things and…”

“I’m going over there,” Boomer said. “This is awful. We should be supporting a fellow band member.”

d.Anna and KT laughed together. “Yeah, you go do that,” d.Anna said. “I’m gonna sit here and feel KT’s fingers drumming on my back, okay?”

Boomer rolled her eyes and stomped away. “Mama’s little titty baby,” KT murmured to d.Anna. “What about you, Natasi? Are you going to add to the upcoming drama by slapping a hooker?”

“No, I’m not,” Natasi said. “You think they’re messing around?”

d.Anna and KT exchanged a glance. Straight girls. Oh, straight girls. “Yeah, cuz the straight girls clearly are secret lovers,” d.Anna said. KT’s hand squeezed d.Anna’s shoulder as KT snickered.

“You were the ones who told me no woman is completely straight,” Natasi said patiently. “Ohhh, there we go. Ba-Noh is so dumb.”

“Though not as dumb as your boyfriend, who looks like he wants to facilitate the interaction,” KT added. “Wow, you wonder if they’re Cylons? Maybe GB’s down with that.”

Natasi glared daggers at KT while d.Anna tried not to snicker. Wow, it was KT’s night to be on, even when she was being a smartass. She looked up at the blonde human and grinned.

“Be nice to the keyboardist,” she said. “Remember, she has to deal with being the keyboardist.

“Frak you both,” Natasi snarled, walking away without another word.

KT and d.Anna waited until their bandmate was out of earshot to bust up laughing. KT was actually bent double, and when her hand brushed against d.Anna’s back, d.Anna felt something other than the lassitude of the heroin.

“Hey, you know where the good booze is,” d.Anna said, catching KT’s hand. “Why don’t we go get some, hey?”

“I like this idea,” KT said, helping d.Anna up. “Let’s get wasted and enjoy our rock star status.”

“Good plan,” d.Anna agreed as the two slipped out.

Sunlight poured through the windows and d.Anna rolled over.

Oh, God frakking damn it. This was not her mattress. These were not her sheets.

And she was naked and sleeping next to someone.

Someone who groaned and rolled away.

Ohhhhh, frak.

“Frakking blinds,” KT’s unmistakable voice whined. “Get ’em, will you?”

“Yeah,” d.Anna muttered, standing up, stepping over another woman — another woman, her brain tried to register — and twisted the blinds twice. “Do you know the girl on your floor?”

“That’s Louanne,” KT said. “We did the same indie rock circuit back in the day. She’s pretty good, but serious case of me-envy.”

Louanne’s hand shot up and gestured obscenely, and d.Anna realized with a jolt it was the cute girl from the release party. Wow, of all the nights to black out on, d.Anna regretted this one keenly.

“So did we have lesbian rock star orgy?” d.Anna asked, stepping over Louanne again and sitting down on the mattress. Her head was starting to ache, though she suspected she was still too drunk to be hungover.

“No, because Louanne is not a rock star,” KT said with a grin. “Otherwise, yes, yes we did.”

“Frak you, you frakking cunt,” Louanne said. “I am a better musician than you, Kara.”

“Yeah, fine. Who’s in Krypter and who’s still doing indie night at the Bucket, huh?” KT taunted back.

“Oh, that’s it,” Louanne said, getting up and knocking KT back before KT grabbed Louanne by the hair and kissed her hard.

Dry-mouthed, d.Anna watched Louanne seize one of KT — or Kara, maybe it was Louanne and Kara and Deanna at this point — one of KT’s arms before straddling her, pressing Kara back against her wall.

Kara’s tattoos looked good, her skin next to Louanne’s as they fought it out through kisses, grunts, nails dug into each other. d.Anna wanted in bad. Bad enough to forget the burgeoning hangover.

She put her hands on Louanne’s back, dragging her fingernail down the woman’s spine and, hearing an encouraging moan, kept going.

“That’s it,” d.Anna murmured, sucking on Louanne’s neck. “Did I tell you I wanted you last night? You caught my eye.”

“Don’t give her a big head,” KT muttered, looking up from Louanne’s breasts. “She already thinks she’s all that because she’s the filling.”

“Shut up, Kara,” Louanne said. “d.Anna’s hotter than you anyway. And a better lay.”

Clearly, Kara got off on the taunting, because she just jammed her tongue down Louanne’s throat in response. d.Anna was enjoying it — she liked the show, and Louanne’s back kept brushing against her breasts and mmmm. Good sensation.

“So are you done hate-humping on Kara yet?” d.Anna whispered into Louanne’s ear, blowing on the baby-fine hair on the back of her neck for good measure. “I want you…and I want to show her how to do it right.”

Louanne broke her kiss with KT and twisted so she could meet d.Anna’s eyes. “Not unless I get to do you first,” she said. “I’m gonna make you see stars, woman.”

Laughing, she twisted further from Kara, who shook her head, lowering her head between d.Anna’s breasts and nuzzling. It stole a whimper from d.Anna’s throat, especially when Louanne looked up and licked her lips.

“You sure about that?” d.Anna asked, shivering as Louanne’s fingers grazed against her outer lips.

“Yeah, I am,” Louanne said as d.Anna tried to get more touch from her warm, seeking fingers. “You’re gonna be screaming for that god of yours all over again. Isn’t that right?”

She pushed three fingers into d.Anna at once and it ached, but God, God, God…she was already ready.

“Yes,” d.Anna whimpered. “Don’t stop.”

The world was luminous like this. Perfect, and the stray beam of light that crossed Louanne’s face as she smiled and twisted her fingers was like…was almost better than any prayer, really.

“Thank you,” d.Anna murmured, throwing her head back and giving in to her body’s desire, feeling connected to the world in a way she hadn’t in weeks.

God worked in mysterious ways.


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