Gals In The Valls
When The Lights Come On
We're Gonna Be The Ones
'Cause I Know That We Were Made For This
“YOU DIDN’T TELL ME LADY GAGA WAS GOING TO BE AT GALLELLA!”
Both Willow and Tara had barely heard the key in the door before Sally came bursting in, bookbag bouncing on her shoulders.
“It’s
Vallella, sweetie,” Tara replied calmly as she closed the oven where her pot roast was cooking, “As in ‘valley’.”
“Funny story,” Willow didn’t look up from where she was typing on her laptop at the table, “It comes from ‘valley’ obviously, but the actual valley they’re referencing–”
“I don’t care if it’s for gals or pals or vals, Lady Gaga will be there!” Sally interrupted.
She fell back onto the couch, dramatically staring at the ceiling.
“Everyone at school wishes they were me.”
She sat up, wide-eyed.
“ME!”
“Really makes me want to message Cordelia Chase and rub her nose in it,” Willow murmured.
“It is a very cool opportunity for all of us,” Tara said with a pointed look toward Willow, “And we should be grateful.”
“I’m very grateful,” Sally promptly stood and headed for her bedroom, “I’m going to go practice my gratitude right now.”
“Make sure to finish your homework in between that gratitude,” Tara called out after her, and there was a faint ‘drat’ before the bedroom door closed.
Willow raised an eyebrow at Tara.
“Are you really grateful, or are you stressed? Because you’ve been mashing those potatoes into nothing.”
Tara looked down at the bowl and then set it aside. She moved to sit beside Willow.
“This is a huge deal. I’m not sure I’ve earned it.”
“Of course you have,” Willow took Tara’s hand, “You put the work in every weekend, some weeknights. You have a new set each time, which most artists don’t. You mix your own tracks. Just because you rose the ranks higher than some others doesn’t mean you haven’t earned it.”
Tara smiled nervously, and Willow got up to stand behind her. She put her hands on Tara’s shoulders and began to massage her.
“That’s it – you’ve invoked your hypewoman! Prepare to be inundated with facts about how wonderful you are.”
“Stop,” Tara couldn’t hold back a grin, lifting Willow’s hand and tilting her head to kiss her knuckles, “I just want to…maintain everything we’ve built. Not lose it by pushing too far, too fast.”
Willow bent down and kissed Tara’s ear.
“You are going to kill it. And Sally and I will be right there to see it.”
This time, Tara struggled to keep the grin off her face.
“Jeez, watch the corners!”
Sally had to fling her hands against the boxes sitting beside her in the backseat of the car to stop them from crashing over her.
“Sorry, kiddo!” Willow called from the driver’s seat, “We’ll be there soon!”
“Hopefully I won’t be crushed before I get to see Lady Gaga!” Sally replied, pulling at her seatbelt.
“I put the heavy stuff in the trunk,” Willow replied with a roll of her eyes, “It’s just t-shirts in those boxes. Plus those cool patches you helped Tara stitch!”
“Well, I don’t like the sound of death by a thousand t-shirts!” Sally said, then her eyes widened, “That’d be a cool name for a band.”
“I’m sorry you’re so cramped back there, sweetie,” Tara turned her head to look at her sister, “We had to bring more merch than usual.”
“One of the fun things about this festival is Tara only has to play one set each day, so we actually get to enjoy the rest,” Willow added as she indicated onto a new street, “Downside - merch panic in short bursts. Upside - you get to do it with me.”
“You have an incredibly warped definition of fun,” Sally replied deadpan.
“Um, how many of your school friends are going to a desert music festival this week?” Willow raised an eyebrow through the rearview mirror.
Sally bobbed her head grudgingly.
“You got me on that one, red.”
“What TV have you been watching?” Willow scowled through the mirror, and Sally giggled.
The sun was setting over the horizon, ushering in a hazy desert evening. The sky was all pink and violet, and though dust was in the air, it didn’t cling.
They heard the music before ever seeing the setup, faint but constant as it carried in the wind.
They drove down the artists’ entrance, a gated road lined with security, metal barriers, and checkpoints.
“They must think the President is coming,” Willow murmured as she passed out their IDs to a security guard.
“Much more important,” Sally nodded seriously, “Lady Gaga.”
Their lonely little car was dwarfed by black SUVs, vans, and trailers sitting bumper to bumper. This was all starting to feel a lot larger than Tara felt she fit into. But she’d committed, and she would see this through.
Finally, someone came to guide them, though Sally was getting fidgety in the back, and Tara had to employ ‘the look’ several times to stop her from blurting out something inappropriate to the security guards, like asking if they glowed in the dark in their neon vests.
It was hot, hotter than it should be for the spring, but they were in a valley. Eventually, they were given wristbands that already felt sticky against their skin in the heat. The music was louder as they approached the front of the line, as warm-up acts performed for the crowd, preparing them for the evening sets.
Still, the bass thumped, and crowd chatter blended together from all over the event.
Tara put her finger under her wristband and ran her thumb over the word ‘artist’. She’d never pictured something like this when Nate had sent her the app to mix songs with. Even when she did the intensive weekend to learn the ropes, she couldn’t imagine even The Bronze would want her, never mind where else she’d been invited.
Caesars Palace had felt immense, but one of the most famous music festivals in the country was colossal.
So very surreal how quickly things had snowballed after that first big booking Nate had pushed her toward.
They were directed to a secure parking lot that backed onto a small village of yurts, which was a surprise. The headliners would surely be staying in a nearby five-star hotel, and while none of them expected that, this was not the Motel 6 they’d been anticipating. Still, given the camping conditions of many festival-goers in tiny tents only half-hammered down, the yurts seemed luxurious and fit in easily with the eco-culture the festival tried to support.
It was surprisingly spacious, fitting a double and a single bed, a nightstand between them, and a couple of giant cushions laid out on a multi-colored rug. Outside, a solar panel was connected to an outlet providing lighting and sockets for charging devices. A couple of water bottles sat on the nightstand with a ‘Welcome to Vallella’ postcard that had a map of the festival on the back.
Tara guessed these were most likely used for ‘glamping’ vacations in the normal course of events and were repurposed here as artist accommodation, as they were impressively well-kept.
Sally immediately dove onto the cushions, frowning when they weren’t as bouncy as she expected. She held her arm and rubbed her elbow.
“Do
not recommend doing that.”
“This place is cool,” Willow grinned as she lifted their luggage onto a low, round tree trunk, sawn flat at the top, “Kinda reminds me of the igloo in Iceland!”
“You stayed in an igloo?” Sally’s brow rose.
“Not a real one,” Tara clarified, sitting at the end of the double bed, “It was inflated. But we were in the snow and got to see the Northern Lights.”
“If we’d never gone to Iceland, we wouldn’t be sitting here right now,” Willow smiled as she opened the case to unpack a few things, “That’s where Tara first picked up the bug.”
Sally’s eyes darted to Tara uncomfortably.
“Was it like that time Willow ate that salmon roll from the place in the alley?”
“Not that kind of bug, sweetie,” Tara chuckled softly, “Iceland is where I played as a DJ for the first time. We met a friend who was very generous with her time and let me test the waters.”
“Phew,” Sally wiped her hand over her forehead, “That wasn’t fun for
anyone.”
“I can hear you, you know,” Willow retorted with a scoff.
“Yep,” Sally nodded, “I know.”
Willow rolled her eyes.
“Less talky, more worky. Come help me carry the merch in.”
“There’s such things as child labor laws you know!” Sally scoffed as she pushed past them and headed back out.
Willow paused by Tara and kissed her forehead.
“You rest up for your set tonight.”
Tara squeezed Willow’s hand as a sign of thanks and lay on the bed with her head on the pillow. She looked up at the domed ceiling for a moment before closing her eyes. She rested her hands over her stomach and took some guided breaths.
It wasn’t long before she needed to bring her decks for sound check while Willow and Sally set up the merch table outside one of the tents they used for smaller artists, away from the main stages.
Even being in the up-and-coming section, Tara was immediately aware that this festival went beyond anything she’d experienced before as a performer. Dozens of people in work vests were running around trying to keep everything on schedule, even more technicians were checking and double-checking equipment, and a two-minute delay seemed like a catastrophic event.
She received a rushed line check and was practically pushed on stage while her predecessor was still finishing up.
She could hear music playing from the main stage and vibrations through the ground. It reminded her of the rave, and she had a sudden panic that maybe Sally shouldn’t be here, despite it being an all-ages event; the vast majority of people still here at nightfall were adults.
Still, it was a unique experience for Sally, and the little yurts were surprisingly quiet, so they’d at least get some sleep.
And there was no way in hell
any of them would be taking any candy handed out or drinking anything but sealed bottles.
Finally, it was time. A coordinator killed the lights for Tara to take the stage and counted down in her ear to when they’d go back on. She lined the track up on the right beat…
…but with the wrong playlist.
One she’d hastily renamed the night before and forgotten to move out of her performance folder.
A deep, steady beat and a low, slightly fuzzy bassline gave way to a slow, almost hypnotic pulse.
Tara’s cheeks burned crimson as the opening song in her and Willow’s sex playlist burst out from the speakers.
It was a completely different playlist from their first; she sometimes laughed at the first one she’d put together with basically no experience, just naivety and vibes, vibes that were very different when you were actually doing it.
They had pieced together some songs that fit their rhythm better over time, but since Sally had come on the scene, they kept the confines of their bedroom quiet.
But right now, she was not laughing.
This was not the feeling that made her fall in love with music.
There was a quick energy shift, palpable from the start. Thinking on her feet, she did a dramatic scratch, held it for two heart-pounding seconds, and launched into the correct playlist and the upbeat dance music the people expected.
The audience loved it.
No one seemed to notice her programmed lighting cues being thrown off; they just danced under them.
She played her set mostly on muscle memory and was whisked away as quickly as she’d been pushed on when it was over. Her ‘handler’ was very complimentary as she guided her out the back of the tent.
“That fake out was fire.”
Tara barely had time to offer a ‘thank you’ back before she was left alone, just standing amongst the throngs of people moving through the valley, from tent to tent and toward the main stage. Even with the adrenaline still humming through her, something about it all had felt like a blur, like she’d skimmed across the surface instead of sinking into it, and she wasn’t sure she liked that.
She heard a loud boom from a nearby set and decided to keep her earplugs in. She hoped Willow had thought to do the same for her and Sally, but had no doubt Willow would not let any harm come to their girl.
After making sure her equipment was returned to the tech guys to be kept in its place until her next set, she walked around the tent where Willow was packing up unsold merch while Sally stood on the table, holding a t-shirt in each hand.
“Twelve dollars, two for twenty! There’s even one with my sister’s face on it!”
Tara cringed.
Nate and Willow had conspired against her on that one. It was a little strange how in sync they were over all the merchandising, but if she trusted any two people with it, it was them.
“Get down from there,” Willow said, flicking the back of her hand against Sally’s shin, “You’ll get us kicked out.”
She beamed when she saw Tara.
“Baby! You were great! We heard through the tent. But…” she gushed before leaning in, still shouting as she forgot her earplugs were in, “Were you playing…?”
Tara just put a finger against her lips, and Willow nodded knowingly.
“Well, people just kept swarming the tent! Some were even turned away!”
“I sold a BUNCHA hand fans!” Sally added excitedly.
“Gotta admit, that was a brainwave from Nate,” Willow grinned.
Tara just felt a bit dazed.
“Let’s pack up and get something to eat.”
Sally jumped down and landed in a superhero pose, having the time of her life. She took hold of the hand truck and started marching the now only half-filled merch boxes back to the yurt.
“I swear I didn’t give her caffeine,” Willow said, holding her hands up defensively.
She bumped Tara’s shoulder and linked their fingers together.
“Are you okay?”
Tara blinked several times and offered Willow a smile.
“Tired. From the drive. Nothing some tacos can’t cure.”
Willow just nodded and caught up with Sally to stop a box of mugs from flying into a puddle of mud.
Tara smiled at their bickering and followed them in, happy to be with her girls for the rest of the night.
“I can’t see!”
Sally jumped, trying to get a view of the main stage above the sea of festival-goers who thronged together to see Lady Gaga. Everyone seemed to have at least a foot on her, and she twisted, wiggling for a glimpse, throwing her hands up in exasperation.
“If I wanted just to listen, I could do that at home!” she yelled over the muffled roar of the crowd.
“It’ll still be good,” Tara replied sympathetically, craning her neck to spot the stage herself, “Live music sounds totally different from at home.”
Sally’s lips pressed into a thin line, her small fists clenching at her sides. Her pout made Tara’s chest tighten.
“We can try and get closer,” Tara said carefully, “But I can’t lose you in the crowd. You’d have to hold my hand the whole time.”
Sally scoffed and kicked the dirt, sending little clouds of brown dust spiralling into the air.
Around them, someone nearby laughed, and a group shouted lyrics to the opening song, their voices blending into the constant hum of anticipation.
“Do you want to sit on my shoulders?” Willow offered earnestly, bending slightly to meet her eye level.
Sally rolled her eyes, but the crowd around them erupted in a deafening cheer. She spun around, eyes wide, and then looked back at Willow.
“Yes, yes, I do!”
Willow crouched, and Sally swung her legs over her shoulders. Willow’s hands gripped her firmly as she slowly straightened up, adjusting to the sudden weight. Sally’s sneakers brushed against Willow’s sides, and the warmth from Willow’s shoulders seeped into her legs, anchoring her safely above the moving tide of people.
Sally’s mouth dropped in awe as Lady Gaga appeared on stage, kicking off her set with Bloody Mary. The stage was a riot of lights and pyrotechnics; smoke machines sent mist flying over the crowd, and the bass rattled the bones in their chests. She threw her hands up and cheered, leaning slightly forward and bouncing on Willow’s shoulders. The ground’s vibrations made her giggle uncontrollably.
Through it all, Tara watched them, a grin spreading across her face. Confetti exploded above, drifting down like fragile, sparkling snowflakes in the spring air, coating the sticky heat of the crowd. The scent of dust and sweat mixed with sugary notes from funnel cakes and fresh lemonade, a strange but intoxicating perfume of festival life.
Líberate, mi amorThe heavens could have opened, rain pouring down in sheets, and nobody would have cared. The music washed over Tara in waves, vibrating through her chest and fingers, sinking deeper into her. It had been a long time since she’d been able to get lost in sound that wasn’t created by her own hands.
The chaotic but thrilling sound, this experience of music that was every bit as alive as she was, was why she’d started DJing, and why she continued, despite never quite fitting the stereotype or the ‘scene’.
The music didn’t just speak to her, it acknowledged her, wrapped her in an invisible embrace that made her feel seen and understood. A stranger bumped into her shoulder with a laugh, someone’s bracelet brushed against her wrist; a breeze carried the faint whiff of beer while sunscreen melted against her skin. Every sensation felt sharpened in the moment.
And that was what music did to her – it intoxicated her more than any accidental dosing ever could.
She remembered that now.
She glanced up at Sally, who was singing along, eyes shining with utter glee, and Willow, who held her steady yet gently bounced with her own quiet joy, and felt a rush of gratitude. In that moment, lost in the roaring crowd, flashing lights, and the first notes of the next song, Tara realized that sometimes music didn’t just fill that part of her soul; it allowed her to transform within it.
It was her cocoon, and she was ready for whatever metamorphosis it might bring.
Tara stood outside her performance, gulping down a boxed water that some festival volunteer had kindly pushed into her hands.
Her heart was pounding, her palms were sweating.
Her second set had been pushed by a couple of hours because of a too-keen festival goer who collapsed part of the tent when they let off a contraband firework inside. That had meant sending Sally and Willow to bed before she could go on, but they’d sold most of the merch the night before anyway, so it didn’t matter too much.
It was a whole different experience from the night before, after a few hours’ sleep and a full day spent listening instead of performing. Having spent the day checking out the various artists’ sets, she felt that fizzing feeling in her bones, the way she had when live music had been a weekly event for her. She threw in a new ‘fake out’ since her accident had been so well-received the night before, and it went down well again, so she was eager to think of ways to incorporate it in the future.
The desert air was still warm, and though some of the tents still had music, the whole area seemed calm. Fewer people, less drunkenness, just the people left who really enjoyed the music.
It felt almost eerie walking back, with only a few artists left and just the soft hum of live guitar music buzzing in the air. Her mother had once, in passing, told her about living in a commune as a teenager, and she wondered if this was what it felt like: an intentional community of shared interests and joy.
And probably a lot of questionable life choices, which Tara was trying to make fewer of.
She finished her bottle of water, feeling tired but refreshed, and went to the nearest trash can to dump it, a courtesy only
some other attendees had adhered to judging by the growing piles of garbage on the ground.
At least a lot of it was biodegradable, which felt like a small mercy, and alleviated her guilt at walking away from it.
She flashed her wristband to get back into the artist accommodation, and it was like stepping into deep wilderness. Just quiet and a deep black sky staring back down at her with all the hut-like yurts softly glowing with artificial light.
She let herself into their yurt, where Sally was splayed across the entire single bed, one leg hanging out and a head of messy curls on the pillow. Willow was lying in bed, looking up from her phone, when Tara came in, smiling softly.
“Hey, you,” she whispered, placing her phone on the nightstand, screen down, “I was just following your social media metrics. Kinda quiet, but I think that’s just because of the delay.”
Tara stood at the foot of the bed and stripped down to just her underwear from her tight black jeans and sleeveless wolf top before slipping under the blanket and climbing up so her head popped out the top by Willow’s.
“Hey,” she returned softly and wrapped her arms around Willow’s waist, pulling her back against her front.
She kissed the spot where Willow’s neck met her shoulder and inhaled deeply.
“I love you.”
“I love you, too,” Willow answered, glancing back for Tara to peck her lips.
They snuggled in, and Tara stroked her hand down Willow’s arm to link their fingers.
“This has been a really amazing experience,” she whispered into Willow’s ear, “It’s made me realize a lot.”
“Yeah?” Willow asked, playing with the fingers twined with hers.
“Mmm.”
Tara closed her eyes.
“I think…I think this is as much as I want.”
Willow’s brow creased ever so slightly, but she didn’t otherwise react.
“Okay,” she agreed, lifting their hands to kiss the back of Tara’s hand, “And what does ‘this’ mean?”
“This…level,” Tara answered after a few moments’ thought, “My set yesterday was so hectic, and it took all the joy out of making music. I don’t want to lose that. The joy.”
Willow turned in Tara’s arms to face.
“You don’t want to DJ anymore?” she asked gently, “Because that’s okay. We’ll figure it out. I can do deliveries on Velma. I could definitely tutor–”
“No, darling,” Tara cut Willow off with a smile, “I know how lucky I am to do this. How lucky we are to get an income like this as college students, and we need it for…”
She nodded behind them at Sally’s soft, sleeping inhalations.
“I don’t think I’ll want to do this forever. But for now, I do. What I mean is, I don’t want more than this level of performance. I want to play a few shows a week where I can set up, play, pack up, and come home to you. I don’t want to chase highs, reach peak success, or travel all over the country. I want time to experiment with the music and enjoy it. Does that make any sense at all?”
Willow reached behind and cupped Tara’s head, kissing her slowly. When they parted, she rested their foreheads together.
“So I go back to booking you around LA and maybe the occasional Bronze show. That’s easy. I didn’t know you were starting to feel a disconnect.”
“I don’t think I did either,” Tara replied, her eyes turning glassy, which surprised her, “I just loved getting to be lost in the live music again today.”
“You need it. I get it,” Willow said with a soft nod, “We should try to go to some live music ourselves, too, if we can work out babysitting. I love watching you get lost. Because then I get to find you.”
Tara tucked some hair behind Willow’s ear.
“And you always do. You always find me. Wherever I am.”
“My favorite thing to do,” Willow said and kissed the end of Tara’s nose, “Especially when I can do it through the medium of smoochies.”
They both giggled together, and Tara relaxed as she realized she’d been truly heard and understood.
“Thank you for taking care of our family the way only you do. The way only you can.”
Willow smiled easily.
“The way I always will. As long as you call me yours.”
“So forever?” Tara asked, brushing their noses together.
“And a day,” Willow agreed, “Based on our linear understanding of time. If the cosmos goes cuckoo, I want commitment then too.”
Tara just smiled and held Willow under her chin.
“This is how every day should always end. And start. And all the stuff in the middle.”
“I’ll add it to our calendar,” Willow murmured and fell asleep as Tara stroked her hair.
Tara just lay there, enjoying the soft sounds of breathing.
She realized then that silence could feel every bit as much of an embrace as music could.
by Will's redemption » Mon Oct 13, 2025 12:30 am 
