Her Introduction to Fame

She hated her voice. She hated the sound she made when she laughed, the croaking of her vocal chords that sometimes came out as a snort. Her accent was too thick even for the south and the timbre of the words just entirely too masculine. She was too loud, she always had to concentrate on the volume of her voice so that she wouldn’t talk over people and fade them out. She equated the sounds that came out her mouth with that of a diesel truck engine being turned over with an empty tank or a frog that had a cold. She hated her voice.
But that didn’t stop her from doing her job. Though her choice of career had been an odd one at most, she did it remarkably well and was successful to say the least. She wasn’t exactly aware of the fame aspect, she thought she was a little weird for anyone to consider a celebrity. But when she got the call from MTV asking her to host their movie awards, she figured it was safe to assume that she had made it. After that she lined up her own Comedy Central Special, and was asked to the Letterman Show, a spot on Rodney and even a commercial and advertising campaign for Pizza Hut. But that didn’t make her hate her voice any less.
It was the blemish that got her the job, and as a comedian she learned to make fun of her shortcomings and use it to her advantage. But it still ate away at her. She could deal with the fact that she had no father, that her sisters were really her half sisters, that she lived in a trailer with her mother and said sisters, that she was considered a redneck, all of that was bearable. It was her voice that wasn’t.
The people at MTV had been more than overjoyed to get her as the host of the awards show and were wanting her in Miami as soon as possible to start shooting the commercials for the event. She finished up the commercial for Pizza Hut, there were four in total, earning her a nice enough paycheck to move her mother and sisters into a nice house before she took off for the hot and humid streets of Miami where the event would take place in two months.
For the entirety of the two months she would be staying in Miami, filming the commercials for the event, talking to producers and putting on shows at the theater next door to the hotel she was staying at. She was doing three shows every other week, not including the weekends, which included a show on Saturday.
Everything was happening rather fast. She didn’t know how it had happened. One day she had been working as a waitress at a bar, doing her usual set on the small stage, and the next she was asked to perform at a comedy battle and she won. In a whirlwind she’d gone from small town girl with the funny voice to the most popular comic in the state. It was just happening way too fast.
Miami was really different from her small and confining hometown of Mud Hollow Alabama. It was sunnier, hotter, more humid than she thought she could bare. She didn’t fit in with the people, she wasn’t soft and blond and petite and pretty. No, she was tall, buxom, brunette, full, shapely and strong to the point of freakish. She was not dainty, or sweet. Sour, maybe salty covered it all, but she was still not the typical.
The first couple weeks were spent by getting adjusted. Signing contracts, learning the scripts, the layouts, meeting the directors, the other actors and comedians and celebrities she would be doing the commercials with. It was hard to take it all in and she was quite happy to return to her hotel room at the end of the day and hide.
Often she would get out late from a meeting, a dinner, a filming, and if it wasn’t dark already, she’d draw the curtains and the blinds, turn out all the lights and sink into the overstuffed couch with something cold to drink and a rerun of The Golden Girls or some other outdated sitcom. More than once she’d fallen asleep on the couch and would go and take cold showers in the middle of the night for no other reason than she felt the humidity getting to her. She was jolted back into reality when one night she saw herself on the television with one of the commercials she’d done for Pizza Hut. A moment later half her family had called to say they’d seen her on TV.
She missed her family. She really did. They really weren’t that far away, and she could go see them if she didn’t have so many rehearsals and filmings on the days when she didn’t have shows. She could always fly them out to see her, she had the money, but they were busy too. The girls had school and her mother had work, as did the rest of the family. She wasn’t opposed to supporting her mother, even moving them out of Alabama, but they all called it home and didn’t want to leave the large amount of family they had there.
All in all, she was just lonely. She didn’t have many people to talk to, she didn’t know anyone that she was working with well enough to even just get a drink at the bar in the hotel. Some nights when she felt up to it she would sit in the bar with a bottle of Coors and watch the football game highlights or some other sporting event they left on at that time of night. She was often too late to hear the singers that sometimes sang on the tiny stage, but once in a while she caught a guy playing the piano.
He often came late at night, nearing twelve or even later, just to play the piano. He had no fellow listeners, he never sang, just played. She never watched, never knew what he looked like. She only knew it was the same guy each time because he always started out playing the same slow song. She couldn’t place it, but she should know what it was, her mom was a novice with the piano and played all the time when they were kids. She’d once tried to get her to play, but she was never any good at it, music didn’t come easy to her. Being funny did, so that’s what she did. She was funny.
Her newfound fame found her in the oddest of places. When she was picking up Chapstick at the drugstore a young man asked for her autograph. Another talked her up in the bar of the hotel for an hour, while a older woman asked for a signed picture for her husband. She was honored when she met Jeff Foxworthy and he invited her to do an episode of the Blue Collar Comedy Show with him and his friends. Her shows brought down the house on a nightly basis and after her first show the rest were sold out for the remainder of her stay in Florida.
So why did she feel constantly alone? Maybe that was because she was alone. She didn’t really have any high-end friends in Miami, or even low-end friends. She didn’t know anyone and going out was never really an option because she never felt like she fit in. She didn’t really dance, she didn’t really party, she made jokes, and talked, but it was much different being up on a stage instead of beside a person. The one on one thing kind of made her nervous.

After the Show

The audience roared and roared and didn’t stop for a full ten minutes with a standing ovation. She made promises that she would be in the lobby to talk to people although she didn’t want to think about that. She felt totally disgusting. It was hot, hotter than most nights and she had sweat until she was sure she was nothing left but a puddle.
She hurried back to her dressing room and locked the door, pushing against it and letting herself catch her breath. She walked away from the door and ignored the knocking that usually proceeded the end of the show.
“Come on, I know you’re in there!” It was Gary, the overly annoying venue manager that hit on her every night after every show thinking that because she was bored and lonely that she’d jump into bed with him. She knew the reason that she did not have a boyfriend and was perfectly fine with admitting that to herself. She was happy with the platonic relationships that she had with her friends back home, romance had a lot of pitfalls as did one nigh stands and pity fucks.
She ignored the constant knocking, going towards the bathroom, but not before shoving a chair under the doorknob. She took a ten-minute ice cold shower until she felt like a solid block of ice and put on her clean clothes. It was her last few minutes before being herded out into the lobby to meet people she didn’t know, sign pictures to names of people she would not remember and generally feel uncomfortable for the next hour to two hours. She longed for an ice-cold beer and a dark room where she could slowly lapse into the oblivion of exhaustion.
It wasn’t the fact that she didn’t want to meet the people and be the person on stage that she herself liked, it was that she didn’t like the person that she was offstage. She wasn’t that quirky, loud, fun loving person that paraded around the stage doing impressions of her family and making fun of her own voice until she was so exhausted at just laughing at herself that she could have fallen into bed on a whim.
The knocking continued as she came out of the bathroom and pulled on her high heels under the bells of her jeans. She considered herself a fairly attractive woman, most of the men who spoke to her and knew her considered her to be supermodel quality especially with the height she was graced with. She boasted quite muscular arms, mostly because of the trays of drinks she was used to carrying around and helping her uncles with the construction work on the weekend. Her face was finely formed and pretty, crazy light hazel eyes that were almost transparent, long curling brown hair and skin that was light brown from the fact that she had been the only one in the family that had a black father. It was that voice that the guys didn’t find attractive.
The knocking didn’t stop until she opened the door and was finishing with attaching her earrings.
“Yes?” she asked.
“So, were you ever going to open the door, or what?” Gary leaned in the door with a swagger that made her want to barf. He was so annoying that it seemed incredible the guy had lasted this long without someone deciding to hit him with a sharp object. His chest hair and several gold chains poked out of his V-ed silk shirt and she turned away to grab her sunglasses.
“No,” she said quickly as he stepped inside the room. He made his usual gesture of swiping his eyebrows to get out the messed hairs and shook them at her. She gave a little sigh and shake of the head as she slid the glasses onto her head and pushed them up to keep the hair out of her eyes.
“Baby, come on,” he grinned at her and she shook her head at him before going to the door. He stepped in her way and she huffed.
“You’re not a man Gary, stop pretending and admit you’re the leech you really are,” she sniggered before knocking him out of her way. She walked down the hall, her heels clicking as she heard him gallop up alongside her.
“You know, we could sign you here, to a yearlong deal, the people love you down here, they really think you’re something!” Gary had been pitching this since her first show and she was getting sick of hearing it.
“So do the people at Comedy Central Gary, besides, I hate you,” she replied as she rounded the bend in the hall and turned to go down the stairs.
“Babe, come on, we could really make something out of this. You and me, I could be your manager, we’d make it to the top,” he stumbled on the stairs as he stumbled on his words.
“I’m doing fine as my own manager Gary, thank you very much.” She indeed was doing more business for herself than anyone else had gotten for her. She’d raked in over five hundred thousand just for the awards show, not to mention the tidy sum she was making for the shows she was doing, the commercials and other guest spots she’s snagged. She was an expert at reading over contracts by now and had no need for legal lawyers or a manager in any respect. She found she preferred to be in control of all aspects of her career, right down to finding her own flights and hotels and making her own reservations. The less people involved in her business, the better.
“But baby, I’m telling you, it’s so much easier if you let other people handle the business aspect! A little lady like yourself shouldn’t have to hurt her pretty little head with those figures huh?” he asked. She stopped and pinned him to the wall with one hand placed firmly below his Adam’s apple.
“I was smart enough to get one-hundred thou a night in this dump, wasn’t I? Or have you forgot that? You make one more comment to me and I won’t go on stage on Saturday night!” She was bluffing of course, she’d agreed to an extra Saturday show on a night that she didn’t have to be there, only because she was bored and had nothing better to do. This show was not in her contract and she could either show up or not show up depending on whether she felt like dealing with Gary or not. But she’d show up, she had nothing better to do, it was just nice to get him back for a change.
“Okay! Okay! I’ll stop!” Gary gasped as he struggled to push her arm away.
“Now that we’ve made our selves clear, I have some people to go meet.” She dropped him and allowed him to breathe again. Her heels clicked down the stairs and into the foyer where her public awaited her.

By the time she had managed to escape the throng she was so tired that a drink in the bar was not favorable to her instincts, but her body said otherwise. She needed the cold alcohol to calm the headache in her head and the melancholy song that piano guy played every night when he showed up, to ease her nerves.
She was almost a wreck. She’d had to face six people who’d attempted to heckle her and were later escorted out of the show. They’d been screaming racial obscenities and blasting her because she refused to say the word “nigger” because she thought it a vile and disrespectful word. She did not believe that because a person was black that it was anymore okay for them to say it than anyone else.
Aside from that she’d been hit on by a guy who thought she was a guy in drag because of her voice and Gary showed up pretending that he had just taken up as her manager. Everything else wasn’t so bad. Meeting the fans, talking and laughing and joking with them, signing autographs and taking pictures, it was all okay, better than most evenings.
But she needed the drink. The bartender didn’t bother asking and instead had the bottle of Coors sitting out on the counter with a bowl of bar pretzels alongside it. She nodded her thanks, took a long drink and waited for the strains of the piano. She chewed on some pretzels and listened to the scores of the recent football game she’d missed on television.
It was about ten minutes later that she heard the song on the piano and she closed her eyes as she drank another swallow. It was infectious this song, very soft, very solid, very real and beautiful. She could imagine singing to this song and in her heart she felt she was singing along to it. Her head moved slightly to the rhythm of the keys as he struck them and she knew the reason suddenly why she’d never been able to play. She just didn’t feel it the right way. She was a bit off.
The song ended and she was aware of someone else coming into the bar and taking a seat a stool or more down from her. He ordered a soda and turned to watch the guy on the piano, the next song a little more lively and happier than the last, but still soulful to the most.
“He tends to get to you, doesn’t he?” She wasn’t exactly sure she was the one being spoken to as she hunched over the bar and concentrated on her beer and the four pretzels left in the bowl. She turned and looked at the person and assumed that he had indeed directed this comment to her.
“I suppose so, yes,” she replied as softly as she could manage with her rough voice. It still sounded harsh and ugly, no matter what.
“Hard to believe he’s asleep, right?” She sat up and turned to the guy sitting there and had to know.
“Asleep?”
“Yeah, he’s sleep walking. Comes down here every night, plays the same song and then goes back to his room.” She found it very hard to believe that a guy playing that well could be asleep. She turned to look at the guy at the piano and sure enough, his eyes were closed and he danced as much as he could as he played the keys. He was almost emotionally tied to the piano and the instrument played merely because he asked it too. It was quite a spectacle and it was a wonder this wasn’t for show.
“Hmm,” she offered as a reply, finishing off the pretzels and swallowing with a swig of beer. She turned to get a look at him once more but it offered nothing from the first time she looked so she turned away. The guy sitting two stools down took a sip of his soda and kept his eyes riveted to the man playing, not so much interested in her as the music. She didn’t care, she wasn’t looking for a pick up.
After a few more minutes, he stopped playing and was gone as soon as he had come. That was signal for her to leave. It was clearly after two and she should have been in bed, she had a meeting at nine later that morning and sleep was imperative. She finished the beer and left a tip for the bar keep before straightening up and departing her favorite stool. She offered no attention to the guy at the bar and returned to her room.

A Little More Conversation to be Had

It was a sidewalk crack of dawn as she opened her eyes and realized that the phone had been ringing off the hook for the last five minutes in her dream was reality crashing in. Grumbling she fumbled for it in the dark and held the plastic to her ear.
Wake up call.
She growled at the chirpy morning person on the other end of the line and stumbled out of bed to take yet another cold shower. She hated this Miami heat. The air conditioning didn’t help at all in alleviating the scorching sun and the awful humidity.
She did not like these days. The days when she didn’t have shows were the worst because she had nothing to look forward to at the end of the night, and would most likely be having dinner with a bunch of producers that were all aiming for her to do something for them. She wanted to take breather for a moment. She had her big break, she had a few gigs lined up, she wanted those squared away before she added anything else to her to-do list.
“Wouldn’t hurt to have a manager,” she thought suddenly, but she was too far in now to find one that wouldn’t shit list her and demand sixty percent if not more of what he or she got for her. Representation she could do without for a while, it wouldn’t hurt her to learn the business and try to make it on her own. She wasn’t too worried about staying in the limelight. If she made a few bucks she could retire and take care of her family, it’s all she really aspired to.
But as long as she had it, she wasn’t going to bite the hand that fed her. Besides, these were the chances that not many people got. She’d do fine with what she had.

The meeting was much better than she thought it would be and considered herself lucky on many parts for it. Things were on schedule and she was aiming at another run as host for a season of a reality show for MTV. She liked the idea for the show and it seemed halfway decent. The down side to it was that she’d be in Miami for the two months the show taped, but things could have been worse. But nothing was signed yet, they were still in the planning stages so far.
Feeling in a much better mood by far after the meeting, she skipped the breakfast buffet at the hotel and went in search of something to keep her busy for the rest of the day. Her last paperback she’d been reading had taken a end to entertaining her with a classic romance ending, she didn’t know why she had bothered to borrow it from her mother in the first place, knowing what kind of books she liked. So it was time to find that gem in the bookstore she was looking for.
She tended to go towards either fantasy books involving gnomes and elves and fairies, or sometimes really good fiction by the likes of Anne Rice, Terry McMillan or thrillers by John Grisham. Not in the mood for a courtroom drama or the life story of a vampire, she wandered into the used book section browsing and looking for something to catch her eye.
She preferred to buy used books, they felt more personal and were easier to read because the spine was usually cracked in several places. Whenever she had a new book she felt like she was damaging it. She dug through a pile of romance novels hoping that their might be something promising at the bottom, but was merely met with more plastic covers of women with long blond hair, powder white skin, and boobs the size of beach balls being swept up into the arms of dark skinned men.
Another pile of books boasted only adventure stories blasting titles in all caps and lurid colors that they were selling a wild time. Low rated fantasy sagas and battered copies of classics lay rumpled together and Babysitter books littered the rest of the pile. After a while of searching she came up with a battered copy of “Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone”. She’d never seen the movies and never read the books, so she decided this was as good a time as any to take a look at them.
Happy with her find she proceeded to the bookmark rack to pick out a new bookmark. She never started a new book without a new bookmark. Each book she owned had it’s own special bookmark purchased at the time the book was. She didn’t like to reuse bookmarks, it was an odd habit of hers, but no one questioned it. There was something about expecting the bookmark to hold a place in a book that it didn’t understand, or something like that. She wanted the bookmark to have a home and one book could do that she thought. Once when she hadn’t been able to buy a bookmark she found a tag off a pair of shoes and used that, and never replaced it, and she would never dream of throwing it away. That marker now belonged to that book and vice versa.
After a few minutes of perusing the shelf she found a silver colored metal marker with Harry Potter stamped in black, a star charm hanging off the end of it. She picked it up and proceeded to the counter with her purchase, placing only the two items on the counter.
“We do have new copies of this Miss, in paperback and hardcover if you like,” the cashier added before ringing up the merchandise.
“Nope, this is okay, I like used books better,” she smiled at the young woman clerk who grinned nervously in response. She wasn’t exactly sure what the girl was staring at until she asked for an autograph. She laughed and realized now what it was.
“I’m sorry, I’m still not used to it, people asking me, sure, I’d be happy to.” She signed the autograph, paid for the book and it’s marker in cash and left with the items in hand as she left the store.
When she got back to the hotel she thought about just going back to her room and turning out all the lights and settling in with a beer as usual, leaving only as much light as she needed in order to read. But then she decided she’d rather sit in the bar and if the occasion to talk to some fans came up, she’d meet it head on. She couldn’t hide forever, so she went back to the bar and ordered a beer, despite the fact that it was only eleven in the morning. She dove into the newly purchased book, nibbled on pretzels and sipped her Coors until the hotel restaurant began to fill up with customers across the room.
Several people came and went, but no one seemed to recognize her, which in a way she was secretly grateful for. She was totally involved with her book and again took no notice as a man sat down one stool away from her.
“You seem to spend an awful lot of time in here,” the rasping voice came out and she totally missed the question because she was reading so deeply. She still didn’t notice when he picked up his drink and moved down a stool closer to her and said it again.
“Oh, me? I’m sorry, didn’t realize you were talking to me,” she apologized sincerely and put her new marker firmly in place before closing her book. She sat up and turned to find a black haired, Italian skin-toned guy with various tattoos all down his arms and even across his fingers as her gripped his glass. She was intrigued.
“Do you like this place?” he asked as he turned to her, removing his sunglasses.
“Somewhat, offers a place to get a cold beer, so yeah,” she replied, her voice twice as ugly as his. His voice was, seductive, very nice to be hold and listen too. She could notice a singing quality to it.
He was quiet for a moment as he lit up a cigarette and turned to look directly at her.
“You don’t mind do you?” he asked, motioning to the cigarette in his hand.
“Not particularly, no, but it’s a bad habit you know.” She felt stupid the moment she said it. He smiled as if he’d heard a thousand times before. He took another puff before dousing it in the ashtray and pushing it away.
“Hard habit to break,” he smiled as he took a sip from his drink. She watched his motions as much as he watched hers.
“Where have I…” she started, trying to remember where it was she had seen him before.
“I was here last night, it was my friend who was sleep walking,” he explained as he hunkered down on his elbows to look at her. She sat up straight in response to his slouch and nodded.
“Oh, right, that’s why…no, there’s something else,” she knew the voice from somewhere and then it finally hit her.
“I took my sisters to see a concert of yours a few years back,” she said, finally remembering why the voice resonated with her so much. He smiled as if it were a game of twenty questions they had been playing and she’d just figured out the answer to a riddle he thought she wouldn’t guess.
“That’s me,” he laughed.
“I’m not gonna flip out on you or something,” she replied stoutly.
“Or something?” his eyebrow was raised.
“I think I’ll treat you the way I would want to be treated.”
“And how is it that you want to be treated?” his answer and question caught her off guard.
“Like a person who has feelings and appreciates not being bombarded with questions,” she was sure that wasn’t exactly what she wanted to say, but it would have to do for now.
“You want to be asked for autographs?” He asked.
“That doesn’t bother me. You?”
“Oh it doesn’t bother me either.” She wasn’t sure what he was getting at. So far this was the strangest conversation that she’d ever had with anyone.
“So what is that you’re famous for?” he asked out of the blue. She wasn’t insulted that he didn’t know, by far, it was almost refreshing that she has to explain.
“I’m a comedian,” she replied quickly.
“Oh, performing at the Golden Trimount next door?”
“That’s the one.”
“I should go see a show.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I might want to.” Might? What the hell was up with this guy? Might go see a show? She wasn’t inviting him or promoting herself or anything of the type, no, she wasn’t that patronizing and worried about her image as of yet.
“I should get going, I’ll see you around.” And like that he was gone. She wasn’t exactly sure how or why he was around and she didn’t know if she wanted to see him again. It wasn’t like she was opposed to the guy, no, hardly not. She liked his music, had listened to it since she’d first heard it out on the radio. She wasn’t a crazy fan who chased autographs, nothing like that, and meeting him had not been the pinnacle of her life’s existence. There was just something that didn’t set right with her about the meeting with this man. And he’d see her around? Was he expecting something? She couldn’t be sure.
Confused as hell she asked for some ice and a fresh beer before downing the rest of the first bottle in one gulp. She was back into the wizarding halls of Hogwarts without another thought, five minutes after the man had left.

Lunch for One

She did not want to see that guy again.
Okay maybe she did.
No she didn’t.
Yes! She did!
It had been so long since she had allowed herself to look at a guy like that and think, “wow, he’s pretty nice looking.” Nope, she hadn’t done that in a long time and now it was imperative that she ignore it. But she didn’t want to.
He seemed nice, but the conversations that they’d had so far had been small talk and nothing that quite constituted as knowing anything about the other. She wasn’t even sure if he knew her name. They hadn’t even introduced each other. Of course she knew his name, that was a given, but did he know hers?
What the hell was she obsessing about! She’d been a lot closer to getting somewhere with the guy who thought she was dressed in drag than she was to this one. Besides, she couldn’t deal with that kind of relationship now as it was. Like she said in her comedy routine, “No guy wants to hear this voice saying I love you.”
Moving onto other considerations. Why did he come to her in the first place? That she couldn’t understand either. Whatever it was she was sure that whatever she thought it was supposed to mean, was wrong.
After another hour or so in the bar, finishing off her second beer she went to the front desk to see if she had any messages before she went back to her room to decide what to do with the rest of her day. She had only one message.
Meet me for lunch at one thirty at Marlo Grego on Marister Avenue.
When asked, the desk clerk only knew that the message had been taken at about twelve or a little before and by another clerk that had gone home for the day.
“And you don’t have a name?” she asked, confused as to who might be asking her to meet them somewhere.
“I’m sorry Miss, whatever is on the note is all I know.” She sighed and took the note back to her room with her.
She had a feeling it was him, but she was worried that it might be someone else. She didn’t know and wasn’t sure she wanted to take the chance if it was. It was a public place though and she would be safe enough. Just in case, she left a notice at the hotel, with her mother and sisters, as well as her producers where she would be, how she was getting there and anyone she’d been in contact with in the last two days. If she didn’t call by two thirty they were to know something was up and she was not okay. She didn’t expect to need this plan, in case she did however, she was sure it would work.

She didn’t know where Marister Avenue was even, so she got explicit directions from the concierge. It was close enough to walk to, but she decided, just in case, to go by taxi cab, considering she was in a strange city and wasn’t too sure how long it would take. At one fifteen she was in the cab and on her way, armed with cell phone and pepper spray if need be.
She arrived at 1:25 and was escorted inside by the doorman who recognized her and asked for an autograph. She was happy to oblige and then went to the seating hostess who didn’t need her name and automatically seated her out on the terrace.
“Would you happen to know who it was that asked me here?” she asked the hostess as she was furnished with a glass of ice water and a menu.
“I’m not supposed to tell you, but I can reveal that it was a man, and he said not to wait for him, order whatever you like and not to worry about the bill.” The woman replied. This wasn’t helping.
“The bill is not what I’m worried about,” she chuckled slightly and the hostess gave her apologies before walking away.

Across the street watching from the window of another restaurant, two dark haired men with dark sunglasses watched her. The one was obviously older than the first, much taller, longer and leaner with a close buzzed haircut and a simple black suit devoid of a tie. The other made no attempt to conceal the arm length and fistful of tattoos that he boasted almost everywhere on his body with a plain white wife-beater for a shirt and stone washed jeans.
“She’s pretty,” the taller one remarked.
“Of course she is.”
“She’s the one with the voice, right?’
“Yeah.”
“You’ve spoken to her I assume?”
“Yeah.”
“And we’re staking her out, because?”
“Because it’s a boring Thursday afternoon and you got nothing better to be doing, that’s why.”
“I could be spending time with my wife you know?”
“And you know that she appreciates the time that she gets with her secret FBI lover.”
“You know about that?”
“Who doesn’t?”
“He’s not FBI, just a cop.”
“Don’t spoil the fantasy for her.” The taller man snorted, he hated being reminded of the fact that his wife was cheating on him. Him, the definition of tall dark and handsome, a musician and loaded to boot. To be cast aside for a minimum wage cop that had no prospects and spent his weekends drinking beer and watching the football games.
The woman across the street sipped at her water and looked around, it was exactly 1:35 and there was no one in sight.
“How long are you going to keep this up?” the taller man asked.
“Until about 2:30, she’ll have it figured out by then.”
“Why did you ask me to come anyway?”
“Because, like I said, you were bored.”
“And staring at some chick across the street is supposed to qualify as interesting?”
“You could go back to your house and listen to your wife fuck the guy senseless if you’d prefer.” The shorter man bit out this last comment as he turned to his companion. He shut his mouth and stared hard at the woman now reading over the menu.
“The way I look at it Kevin,” he said turning to his friend, noticing that he was trying not to hear anything that was being said as he just stared, “you have two choices. You can a, let her go on, and do whatever with him, or b, you can dump the bitch and move on.”
“She’s my wife AJ, and she’s not a bitch.”
“She’s fucking somebody else when she’s supposed to be married, I consider that, a bitch.” Kevin took a harsh and heavy breath but not before he turned to AJ. He decided not to say anything yet and just turned to watch her again. It was a long moment before either of them spoke.
“Yeah, she is a bitch.” AJ looked over at him with a bit of surprise, but happy none the less that the guy had finally figured it out.
“Ah, some movement,” AJ checked his watch and watched as she spoke to the waitress and ordered. When she finished she sat back, drank some more water and looked around. He was able to see her face full on from where he sat, her shaded face and body underneath the umbrella at her table as she waved a piece of paper in front of her face.
“Why’d you have to stick her on the terrace?” Kevin asked.
“Better place to see her from.”
“You should have been smart enough to have them seat her inside, it doesn’t look like she’s a fan of the heat.”
“She’s not.”
“And you would know that how?”
“Because I do.”
“And the reason you had them seat her on the boiling hot terrace is why?”
“Because it’s the only place to see her from.” Kevin shook his head. There was something going on in AJ’s brain that wasn’t transmitting to his, and damned he was if he could figure it out. The younger man was infatuated with this woman, he knew that for certain, but why he was playing this cat and mouse game, he wasn’t sure. Then again AJ often had always acted as though he knew everything before it happened. He pretended that he was never surprised by anything. But Kevin knew that this girl was something special.
AJ was certainly infatuated with this girl. He’d gone to one show at the Trimount Theater and just managed to snag one ticket to each of the shows over the next two months right before they sold out. He’d even grabbed one to the extra Saturday show they’d only announced the other day. Kevin wasn’t exactly sure what he saw in this woman, he hadn’t even met her yet, and AJ hadn’t divulged anything past a comment that she was a great comedian.
“Why is it that you are so enamored of her?”
“Enamored? Twenty-four dollar word,” AJ snickered before turning back to his charge.
“Have you actually spoken to her?”
“Yes.”
“Past a hello my name is?”
“We didn’t exchange names.”
“So she knows who you are?”
“Yes, and I know who she is. We’ve covered the bases Kevin.”
“How many bases.”
“She knows I’m interested.”
“Really now?”
“What is it with you today? You got a bug up your ass or something?”
“I got a new excuse this morning from Kristin.”
“Oh, and what was that?”
“She had to visit her grandmother across town.”
“Nice of old grandma to offer her an opportunity to get laid by a stranger.” Kevin snorted and took a sip of
his coffee. The woman across the street was still gazing around, looking for whoever it was that was supposed to meet her. Kevin had to laugh a bit, she was looking around for nothing, no one would be there.

The Mystery Continues

She checked her watch for the last time, noticing it was near two thirty and picked up her cell phone to dial her mother as well as her other contacts. She relayed that she was now leaving the restaurant and walked out, finishing her call and looked around as she stepped out onto the pavement. She looked both ways down the street, wondering if she might find whoever it was that was looking for her. But to no avail, she was sure she wouldn’t find them now and an hour was more than respectful. She’d left a note for whoever it was and was on her way.
AJ waited another ten minutes to make sure she was really gone before he got up and crossed the street to the restaurant. He took out his credit card to pay the bill but the hostess waved it away.
“But she ordered lunch, didn’t she?” he asked with a confused stare as he held out his credit card.
“Yes, she did, but she paid for it herself, she wouldn’t allow it to go on your tab, she spoke to the manager.” The hostess apologized and Kevin snickered as he stood beside his friend.
“But she did leave you a note sir.” AJ stuffed the credit card back in his wallet, mean while shaking his head before he took the note.
Kevin watched as AJ’s brow furrowed and he growled slightly.
“So?” Kevin asked. AJ’s ears pulled back a she recited the note.
“I was here, where were you? Please don’t leave any more notes.”
“Next move Romeo?” Kevin asked with a smirk.
“Why don’t you go murder your cheating wife like any other normal person?” AJ snapped as he pushed past Kevin and exited the restaurant.

She was settled in her room, contemplating another beer when the phone rang.
“Now what?” she thought. Perhaps it was her suitor come to annoy her some more.
“Yes?”
“There is a message here for you, a man came in and said to meet him in the bar in five minutes, Miss.”
“That’s all?”
“Yes Miss.”
“Do you know his name?”
“Sorry Miss.”
“Thanks anyway.”
“Good afternoon Miss.” She hung up the phone and sighed, not really wanting to go back down to another meeting where no one would show up and be humiliated again. So she decided not to bother. If he did not want to be forward about it, then, well, he’d miss out. She wasn’t playing his game.

She received no more messages that day and did not bother going to the bar at all. After a movie on Pay-Per-View and catching up on the phone with her two teenaged sisters, she was ready for another drink. With her book in hand she headed to the mini bar to grab a soda.
She took a moment to decide what she wanted and then she noticed it. There was a note tacked to a bottle of Coors on the door of the minibar.
“You’ll be hearing more from me.” It was all it said. Annoyed she slammed the door shut and snorted. Who the hell was this? She had the odd and sinking feeling that it was a stalker, and she didn’t like it. Always thinking the worst, she called to the desk and told them to detain anyone that left a message for her, just in case. Her life just kept getting more and more interesting.
Tomorrow was going to be a long day. She’d be in rehearsal all day with the award’s show people, after that she was having dinner with the producer of the upcoming reality series they wanted her to host, then off to her show, mingling with the audience, and to top it off, a beer in the hotel bar.

AJ sat down at the bar with Kevin beside him, knowing that she would not come to the bar under any circumstances, no matter how many nameless messages he left. Subtlety was surely not working. A direct approach was going to be necessary.
“She’s not into you man,” Kevin said after a few minutes.
“Not yet, no,” AJ said calmly.
“So what do you intend to do now?”
“Be direct.”
“S’worked in the past.”
“Mm.”
“Something bugging you man?” Kevin turned a concerned face to his friend.
“No, not really. I was just hoping that I wouldn’t have to wait the whole two months to introduce myself to her.”
“You haven’t.” Kevin was another name for Captain Obvious at these times.
“I mean introduce her to my intention. God, she’s really fucking with your brain, you know that?”
“Who?”
“You’re fucking wife. That’s why you’ve been sleep walking.”
“I’ve been sleep walking?”
“Every night you’ve been here. You get up, around twelve, twelve thirty, come down here, play that same damn song on that piano right there, stay about fifteen minutes, then go back to the room.” Kevin furrowed his brow at AJ, trying to remember if he’d had any dreams lately in which he’d been playing the piano.
“Ask the bartender. Ask her, she’s usually down here.” Kevin wasn’t going to question it, so he just ordered another scotch and sat back, nursing the liquor.
“So, the next move?”
“I’m gonna see her after her show tomorrow. I’ll send flowers to her dressing room, chicks dig that.”
“And she’s just a chick?”
“Good point. Skip the flowers, something really original. That’s what I need.” AJ scratched his chin whiskers and took a hearty sip of his club soda. Kevin screwed up his brain in concentration as well, trying to sort out the cliché from the original and found it was hard just to distinguish the appropriate from the inappropriate. He lowered his glass to the bar and decided to slow up.
“I’m just gonna leave her another note on her dressing room door,” AJ said after a minute.
“That’s as creative as you can get?” Kevin asked with a surprised look on his face.
“Right now, yes, that’s as all creative as I can get.” AJ downed the rest of his club soda and stood up.
“Now where are we going?”
“We are going back to the room and you are going to sleep, that,” AJ pointed to Kevin’s third empty scotch glass, “off.” Kevin rolled his eyes but finally realized that he was pretty drunk when he nearly fell off the stool and AJ had to help him over to the elevator. AJ shook his head as he helped his inebriated friend up to their room. Knowing that the man needed to get over his cheating wife.

Mystery Solved

She was up on the stage, causing the audience to laugh so hard that they couldn’t breathe.
He was sitting in his usual third row seat watching intently and laughing right along with the crowd.
She still hadn’t realized that he’d been there every show.
And he was starting to worry about it.
After two hours of sending the room into hysterics she took a bow and reeled from her exhaustion. The audience stood and roared loud for her performance as she thanked them profusely, promising as usual to be out in the lobby after the show. It seemed like an eternity before she could walk off the stage and hoof it back to her dressing room.
As usual she took her icy shower before changing into clean clothes once she’d dried her hair. Looking around the room she found her usual sunglasses and pushed them up on her head to hold her hair back. She looped the rope of brown and yellow beads she was using as a belt, through the loops on her dark jeans and adjusted her brown tank top as she looked herself in the mirror.
She shook her head and went to her dressing table to put on her makeup. There was a strange noise at the door however, like two people talking and she didn’t like the sound of it. She abandoned the table and went to the door, yanking it open, scaring the two people who stood there. Her eyes narrowed as they focused on AJ and Kevin.
“You!” she hissed as she saw the note that AJ was about to tape to her door.
“Nice to see you too,” AJ laughed it off but her eyebrows looked dangerous. Kevin was ready to bolt.
“So do you always stalk women, or is this a new hobby?” she snapped, crossing her arms and leaning in the doorway.
“No, it’s his new hobby,” Kevin replied, hoping that it was supposed to be funny.
“Why don’t you go sleepwalk somewhere?” she threw at him, and it was enough notice for him to hold his hands up in defense and walk away.
“What do you want?”
“Well, obviously, I wanted to ask you if you’d like to go out sometime,” AJ replied causally, stepping towards her, showing that he was not afraid of her. She snorted at him however.
“I don’t think so, excuse me, I have to get ready.” She turned in the doorway and went to close the door, but he was being ambitious.
“You don’t think so?”
“I don’t date guys that play games, so that means, not you,” she fired as she tried to close the door again.
“Even a guy that’s been at your show every night you’ve been here?” This caused her to stop in her tracks and re-think the situation. She turned and raised an eyebrow at him.
“What do you want?” she asked, suspicious to the hilt.
“Just a chance to talk a bit, you know, that kind of thing,” he flashed her a twenty tooth smile and she wasn’t quite sure she trusted it.
“That kind of thing? What exactly is that ‘thing’?” she asked again, eyes narrowing as she watched him.
“That ‘thing’ as you so kindly refer to it, is a time for us to get to know one another. If you can’t figure it out, I’m asking you out on a date,” AJ retorted just as spicy. She considered him for a moment, then straightened up as she saw Gary approaching from down the hall.
“I’ll meet you in the bar of the hotel after I’m done here. Don’t keep me waiting.” She closed the door and hastily dodged Gary before he could get a word in.
AJ watched after her, a smile in place on his face, and decided to go hang out with the crowd.

That Thing

He was sitting at the bar when she entered, only half hoping that he wouldn’t be there. He was siting there with a cocky smile on his face, sitting back against the bar, leaning on his elbows as he watched her approach.
“Do you always drool when you stare at a woman, or is that supposed to be a compliment?” she asked as she took a seat a stool away from him. The bartender supplied her with her usual and she turned to him.
“What’s wrong with appreciating a beautiful woman?” he asked, cocking his head to look at her.
“Find a new set a lures, those aren’t working.” She took a long sip of her beer and didn’t hide a long look that she used to size him up from toe to head.
“Are you accustomed to drooling as well?” he replied, a smile tugging at his lips.
“I’m not allowed to appreciate a good looking guy?” she asked with a smile. He chuckled a bit and then turned around to take a swallow of his club soda.
“So what’s with you Momma G?” he asked as he hunched over his drink, turning his head to look at her.
“Don’t call me Momma G,” she replied with another smile and raised eyebrow.
“No? Then what should I call you?”
“Francine, Gaea, pick one.”
“That’s what the G stands for then, Gaea?”
“That’s me, Francine Gaea King.”
“Fran,” he said, trying to keep her eyes on him.
“Yeah?” she turned to look at him.
“You think you could possibly talk to me?” she chuckled and smiled.
“What is it that you want me to tell you?”
“Oh, anything, like about you.”
“You’ve been to the shows, you already know about me,” she said skeptically.
“You’re not the same on stage as you are off.”
“Big surprise, neither are you,” she replied quickly.
“Touche, I’ll give you that. You like Miami so far?”
“No. It’s too humid. To hot, too sunny, I don’t like it. Besides, I don’t fit in here, it’s too pretty and nice, you know what I mean?” she looked over at him as she asked and immediately regretted answering the question the way she did. Too personal.
“It’s takes some getting used to, yeah, and if you’re not a socialite, it’s a bit tiring after a while. But you’re only here for the rest of this week right?” he had chosen not to comment on what she had said which she was ever so grateful for.
“Yup, two more shows here, then the big event on Saturday.”
“That’s right, you excited to be doing that?”
“Course I am, it’s the opportunity of a lifetime.”
“Then why you sitting down here every night listening to my friend play out his frustrations in his sleep?”
“You’re one of those analytic types aren’t you?”
“You need to get out of here Franny, cause either you’re gonna die of boredom or I’m gonna kill you for lack of conversation,” AJ said as sat up and pulled his wallet out of his pocket. He looked through it and pulled out some cash, plopping it beside his half empty glass.
“Franny? And you all of a sudden know exactly what I need?” she asked, no intention of moving from that very spot.
“Have you been anywhere but rehearsals and this hotel?” he asked as he stood up and stuffed his wallet back into his pocket. She furrowed her brow as she answered.
“Well, I, no, but that,” she stuttered.
“Then come with me for a drive.”
“But it’s, almost one in the morning, and I have to,” he didn’t let her finish.
“Stop making up excuses. Just come on.” He stepped up to her and gently pulled her off the stool. She was surprised by his forwardness, but she found herself walking with him, out of the bar, out of the hotel and sliding into the passenger seat of his car.
“How did you get into comedy if you hate your voice so much?” AJ asked once they were out on the road and cruising the streets.
“It’s not something I planned, that’s for sure. I wasn’t good at much, except being funny, so that’s what I did,” she explained simply.
“So you just ‘fell’ into it, right?” he asked, looking over at her. She chuckled.
“Two months ago I was the one serving up the Coors instead of drinking them at the bar. So yeah, I did just kinda fall into it.”
“You like it?”
“It’s fun on stage, I’m just, not very good at the one on one thing, as you can tell,” she blushed and looked out the window. He had to smile as he pulled up to a stoplight.
“I got that impression,” he laughed, making her blush again.
“So where are you taking me anyway?”
“Thought you might like to go to the beach while it wasn’t boiling hot out.”
“Really now?” She chuckled.
“And aside from that I like the beach at night, and I thought you might like it too.”
“Why, because it’s romantic to take a night time stroll on the beach?” She rolled her eyes over to him and smirked. He shook his head and made his turn.
“I guess it was a good idea to forgo the flowers then?”
“Yeah, it was.”
“How does a guy get to know you then? You don’t go for the soft approach, what do you go for?” he asked seriously as he navigated through the streets, following the signs that led to the beach.
She sat back, letting her head fall back against the headrest and relax.
“I don’t know what works. I’ve only dated a few people. I don’t worry about it much.”
“Everybody worries about it, but they just don’t talk about it.” She turned to him with the raised eyebrows again. He grinned as he pulled into a parking space and killed the engine.
“Have you really come to all my shows?” she asked, looking over at him in the dim light of the car. He undid his seatbelt and turned to look at her.
“I have.”
“Why?”
“Why do you have to know?”
“Are you going to just keeping answering my questions with questions?”
“Are you going to stop worrying whether or not that I really want you here and just relax for a while?” She laughed outright and turned to the window.
“I told you, I’m not good at this one on one thing.”
“This, it’s still a ‘thing’?”
“I, don’t, mm,” she struggled with her words, putting a hand to her forehead and smiling nervously. She picked her head up and closed her eyes, shaking her head, still not able to find her words.
“This, it’s,” she still couldn’t get a coherent word out of her mouth.
“You don’t have to impress me, I’m not going anywhere. I just thought you were funny, and maybe you’d like to do something that didn’t require to you be in a meeting, or whatever. Just a chance for you to have some fun, and, just cause I liked you, that’s all, there’s no pressure to be anything, or do anything.”
“That, doesn’t help, you know, saying there’s no pressure, usually means that there is pressure, because nobody ever says what they mean, and,” AJ’s face was suddenly very close, his lips even closer as they touched hers, his hand on the back of her neck.
“Am I moving too fast for you?” he asked as he pulled back a bit. She blinked several times in and stuttered,
“Um, no, no, this is fine.” He grinned at her and laughed, moving closer, this time being even bolder than before. She parted his lips with her tongue, heard him laugh before his other hand took her face gently in it’s palm. She sucked his tongue into her mouth as she followed his lead, leaning towards him, her hands pressing against his chest to steady herself.
“You’re getting better at this one on one thing, you know?” he asked as he repositioned himself, turning on the seat so that his back was pressed to the door.
“As long this ain’t for pity,” she replied, moving forward, kneeling between his knees on the seat and holding onto the door to hold herself up.
“Trust me, it’s not.” She shut off her inhibitions when his arms gathered her waist towards him and they kissed again.
In the back of her mind she knew this was a bad idea, but it had been too long, too lonely, and the piano man’s song was in the background or her thoughts. That song played over and over, all day long in her brain, reminding her how lonely she was. She knew that he wasn’t about to stick around, she knew this was just a mutual agreement to fuck.
“You’re not just a pick up,” he whispered into her mouth.
“I’m not?” she asked, breath ragged as she licked her lips and kissed the corner of his mouth. His neck was damp as she ran her hands along his collarbone, pressing her fingers into the hollow between his neck and his shoulder.
“No, you’re not,” he pushed forward this time, nibbling her neck as he went onto her side of the car. His soft whiskers and masculine scent caused her to close her eyes as she tugged at the strands of black hair in her hands. Little noises of approval escaped her lips as he pressed forward nuzzling into her neck.
“Now I know you’re gonna take this the wrong way,” he said, picking up his head and looking her directly in the eyes.
“You’re gonna think that because we’re here, doing this, that it’s just a one night stand, or a pity fuck, but I don’t do those.” His tone was serious but she let her hands remain in his hair as he spoke.
“And what exactly do you expect me to say to that?” she asked. She had no venom in her voice. She would have been happy to let this thing linger and she would have been happy to let it end here. She’d always be honest with herself, maybe not anyone else, but she never lied to herself, maybe that’s why she was happy in her misery.
She really couldn’t call it misery. It was just life, and you can’t blame a thing for being what it is. So what was this thing then? She couldn’t explain it to herself. She wasn’t hiding it from herself, or lying about it, she just didn’t know what it was. Here AJ was, talking like he was a meant to be in her life. What did it all mean?
“That you’ll give me a chance to show you a couple of good times, a chance to let me get you to laugh, you know, that kind of thing.” A corner of her mouth lifted at the mention of the “thing” again. AJ shifted one of his arms to the door to prop himself up better.
“And I’m supposed to be all swept away by this, go all, head o-o-over heels!” She felt herself falling back and out of the car, AJ tumbling with her as the door swung open and poured them out of the car. Fran took the brunt of the fall and grunted slightly when AJ fell on top of her. They scrambled to get to off one another, untangling limbs and laughing all the while as they discovered the irony of the situation.
Once they were both sitting up they looked at one another and couldn’t help but break out in long peels of laughter. It was a few minutes before they had both calmed down enough to talk.
“That went well, didn’t it?” he asked, still chuckling slightly.
“Very.”
“You want to go to dinner sometime?” he asked as he picked up his head. She nodded and replied,
“Yeah, I do.”
“How about now?”
“Yeah.”

Fred, Meet Marshall

Fran was finished with her shows at the Golden Trimount, so she didn’t have to worry about AJ sitting there, watching and judging everything she said.
After that night she spent with him, the car, the diner, it’d been hard to do much else but what she was told directly to do. She lost track of things and was soon dropping numerous things. Every time she heard the name of the stage manager being said, Fred, she had to laugh, or smile, or drop whatever it was she was holding at the moment. She’d broken one cell phone, stained a perfectly good pair of white jeans with a large cup of coffee and messed up an autograph.
It was stupid to act like this. It was teenager. It was beyond ridiculous. The man lived in Florida. She lived in Alabama, they were both celebrities. It wouldn’t happen. No matter how cliché it was, she couldn’t help herself. She liked having a reason to laugh for real.
For AJ, he was preoccupied and Kevin noticed.
“So, I want to know what the hell happened with that girl,” he announced at breakfast the morning after the date.
“Not much to tell,” AJ replied, shaking his head and sipping his coffee.
“You’re full of shit, now tell me what the hell is up with that girl, my marriage is in the shit hole, at least you can let me live vicariously through you.” AJ shrugged and knew Kevin had a point. He didn’t have much to look forward to when he got home.
“We met up after the show, in the bar, I checked her out, she checked me out, and we ended up going for a drive.”
“And?” Kevin pressed.
“Well, had the door been shut a little tighter, we might have ended up in the back seat of the car instead of the ground outside it. She fell head over heels, for real,” AJ replied non-fazed, he sipped at his coffee again, causally, not caring.
“Ah, and she wasn’t appalled at the slobbering animal you’ve become over her?”
“Hardly.”
“One of them then, I see,” Kevin said shaking his head, text book answer for calling her a whore.
“How is the virgin bride as of late? Her and the FBI man register for China yet?” AJ scalded Kevin in just the right place.
“Fuck off,” Kevin bit out, knowing that the childish reaction would only add fuel to the fire that AJ was building.
“What you’ve been doing instead of taking care of that wife of yours. And even though it is below me, and I don’t have to explain her to you, she’s not like that,” AJ replied.
“And what about you? You’re not exactly in the hard to get category, are you? Hate to say it buddy, but you’re a whore as much as any woman,” Kevin retorted, eyes slits and shoulders drawn up like a cobra.
“And I’ll be the first to admit it. Look Kevin, maybe you don’t want to have a life you can live in, but I do. You gave up the band, and for what, Kristin to shit all over you? That’s your problem, not mine. Now while I can do it, I’m gonna try to have something, someone in my life that I can hold onto without wondering why I’m with them.”
“I didn’t give up the band for Kristin.” Kevin shot back.
“Ooh, and I really believe that.” AJ gave a fake shiver and rolled his eyes before taking a sip of his coffee.
“We’re changing the subject. You all said that you were okay with it, and we’re not about to open the debate again.”
“Ooh, and you really believed it did you? Of course you weren’t around when Nick had his melt down, and just because Brian, the sensible one, the nice one, the Christian, won’t show his temper or say anything against his precious cousin because he’s family, says that he’s okay with it, doesn’t mean he is. And I’ve flat out told you that you’re lying about the reason, and I know you did it so that you could appease her, she’s been jealous from the start, and that’s why you did it. Don’t fucking try to lie to me man, it won’t work.” AJ was barely hissing through his teeth as he finished his diatribe.
“Are you finished?” Kevin asked as he sat back, crossing his arms and looking over his friend, slowly wondering if his description of the man before him was changing.
“Only if you are?” AJ had sparing gear on, Kevin knew that he’d hit a hard spot, he’d rubbed it raw now. AJ wasn’t going to give up without a fight.
“Fine, so what do you plan to do with her now? Going to get married and buy a little station wagon, a house with a white picket fence, a golden retriever, two point five kids?” AJ shook his head and set his coffee cup down.
“Kevin, go home. Call up your lawyer, get your divorce papers in order and get rid of her. Being a bitter cuckold doesn’t suit your personality. You deserve better, and so do I, I’m gonna go after Fran, and if I end up with a broken heart, so what, at least I tried.” AJ clapped Kevin on the shoulder and left the table.

Fran tried to shake out her nerves as she paced her dressing room, waiting to go on. Waiting for the show to start. Waiting to go out there and make a fool of herself. Well, that was kind of the point. The more they laughed at her the better. That’s what she wanted to happen. She could do this, it wasn’t much different than serving beers at the bar. She just had to keep the people happy and not insult them to the point that they’d jump her later. She made a point to not make a lot of celebrity jokes unless they were masked in flattery. She wanted to be popular, not dead.
A stage hand stepped in to let her know she had five minutes then they were sending her out. Now it was really happening. She was really going to do it. It was her first time on live television, she’d have to make it work.
Before she knew it she was out on the stage and she was cracking the first jokes of the evening. She kept the audience roaring as she introduced the first presenter of the evening and then the first commercial break. So far so good. They loved her, and even better, she hadn’t been able to find AJ in the audience, so she didn’t feel like she was being watched.
Half way through the show she took it upon herself, upon request of the manager she’d been working with, to find some people in the audience and tell some jokes or some stories. She made some flattery over George Clooney and politely made fun of Brad Pitt and Matt Damon, two actors she detested. Moving on she made some comments on “Glitter” when she found Mariah Carey and then “Crossroads” when she found Taryn Manning. That led her to none other than Eminem and her conversation on “8 Mile.”
“Now that was one movie, I mean, all of my friends loved it man, you did a really fantastic job on that. And I got to thank you, cause that movie, that’s where my good friend Robert found his role model. I’d really liked to say that it was you, you know, the whole going for your dream, yadda yadda yadda, you know what I mean. Actually, his role model is, uh, Cheddar Bob. Yeah, you remember that whole scene, where he’s got the gun, and then shoots himself in the leg, well, that’s Robert. Yup, he is the original Cheddar Bob.” The audience was enjoying it and so was Eminem who was laughing up a storm.
“Yeah, the only thing that was different about the situation, was that he wasn’t trying to break up a fight or nothing, and it wasn’t exactly a gun, no it was a nail gun and he was, yeah, you guessed it, trying to fix his pants. Getting nailed and hammered has a whole new meaning nowadays for poor old Mozzarella Bob. Oh, didn’t I tell you, he stole the nick name from the movie, but he doesn’t like cheddar, so, yup, that’s the story of Mozzarella Bob.” The audience was laughing so hard that it took a whole five minutes before the laughter calmed down and Fran could continue. The jokes with Eminem were working and he wasn’t shooting any death threats yet, so she was good.
“I’ve got to tell you, you’ve done some really great stuff, and I’m so sick and tired of hearing about how the kids are affected and all that crap. I don’t think it’s the kids you got to worry about. I mean, I don’t know how many times I’ve heard it, but the people you bash in your lyrics, by name, it’s now considered like an honor or something! Those, those are the people you need to be worried about. They are the ones that shouldn’t be allowed to listen to rap. I mean, when you start to call getting dissed, an honor, there has got to be something wrong with you!” Again the audience was dying in laughter before she moved on.
“So before I make any comments that will cause me to be dissed in Eminem’s next single, lets present the next award.”

AJ sat back and watched in awe of Fran acting out the part of Momma G, fully ragging on Eminem and some other big names in the crowd that he would never even approached even with his status in the entertainment industry. She was good at it, very good at it. She hadn’t found him in the crowd yet, which he was secretly grateful for. If she had she might have tried to say something, or perhaps it might have made her nervous, he wasn’t sure yet. He was just glad that the night was going so well for her. He was really happy that she was having so much fun and was getting such a great response. It was rare that such an unknown did so well on national television the first time out. But that didn’t surprise him, Fran was a rarity.
She closed out the show with a standing ovation and the crowd calling for her to do encores. After the cameras went off she agreed and went out to do some of her regular material and a few more insults. It was more than an hour after the original show before she finally begged away, unbelievably tired after having done all her best bits. She always gave every bit of energy she had at her shows, she was nothing short of professional.
“I’ve really had a good time out here tonight, and you’ve all been so much fun to hang out with. Thanks for putting up with my taunts, my insults, and really congrats to everyone. Ya’ll have a good night!” she was finally allowed to go back to her dressing room and take a shower.
She was just finishing up getting dressed when there was a knock at her door. The only person that it could have possibly been was AJ or the stage manager so she just called, “Come in!”
“Didn’t think you’d see me,” a deep voice said as the door opened.
“Why not?” Fran asked, not knowing who she was turning around to see. Her jaw nearly dropped.
“Well, thought you might think I was coming to kill ya or something,” he laughed and she tried to remember how to speak.
“Marshall Mathers, nice to meet you Momma G,” he smiled that cocky grin and she raised a corner of her mouth in recognition.
“It’s Fran, nice to meet you too,” she replied, shaking his outstretched hand.
“So what is it that you do besides call out rappers,” he asked as she ruffled the towel through her hair to dry it.
“The usual, that’s what. So did you come here to kill me for talking about you up on stage?” she asked.
“I usually don’t kill people for giving me a compliment, but then again, people now think it’s cool to be dissed, so death for a compliment might be the right way to go in this fucked up world.” She cracked a smile.
“You might be right.”
“So what does it take for a guy to get you to come hang with him for the evening?” he asked, not so subtly checking her out. He rubbed his hands together and looked at her face again.
“What does it take?” she asked, grabbing her hairbrush as she took a seat to comb out her hair.
“Yeah girl, you’ve got some personality, and I think that you and I could kick it for a bit. I’m throwing a party a little way down the street. Thought you might like to join me and my friends for a little bit of fun and drinks.” He replied. She eyed him cautiously and finished her hair. This boy was fine she decided. Bad boy of course, they’d always been her type, baby faced, blue eyed and tall, she liked her men tall. She might have felt like she was cheating except for the fact that Marshall hadn’t really asked her on a date and she’d never told AJ that she was exclusively seeing anyone. If there ever was a time to try out what this fame had gotten her, it was now. Whatever this boy got her into could be some fun. AJ was nice, but slippery, that mystery thing was still on her nerves. She didn’t expect anything out of either of the guys. She’d examined her options with AJ and knew nothing would happen. So what that she'd been jittery over him and his proclamations, they might never see the light of day.
“I’d love to.”
But she should have known that someone might have expected something out of her.

Rudeness is What You Demonstrate

Fran made arrangements with Marshall to meet him at the back doors of the venue to go to the party. They exchanged numbers and he left her to get changed. She whistled to herself as she changed, hot damn, she was going out to party with Marshall Mathers.
She took only a couple minutes to finish then she gathered her things to meet up with Marshall. He was waiting at the doors with a couple of his famous friends and some security guards.
“No entourage?” Marshall asked.
“En-ta what? Just me baby, that’s all you’re getting,” Fran replied and Marshall chuckled.
“And I think you are all I can handle, you are your own entourage,” Marshall replied and this time Fran laughed.
“Hey, I’m the comedian, remember?”
Fran followed Marshall out the backdoors with his giant body guards lurking in front and in back of them, wondering how someone ever got used to this.
Marshall’s reason for taking the backdoor was to avoid some of the paparazzi but that had not worked. Cameras flashed and he was pushed into Fran as the body guards closed rank on them to keep the reporters out of their faces. Fran heard a few vague questions shunted her way but she didn’t bother to answer as most of the questions ended up being about her love life. By the time she’d gotten to the limo with Marshall and been shoved in, she realized for the first time in her life, that she was a celebrity.
“Welcome to the spotlight,” Marshall muttered as he fixed his hat.
“My mom would never believe this,” Fran replied.
“No?” Marshall asked.
“Actually, I don’t believe it.”
“You never do. Anyway, these are a couple of my friends that could be bothered to come out tonight, that’s my man, Deshaun Holten, better known as Proof, and of course, Dr. Dre,” Marshall replied. Fran shook hands with them both.
They made small talk on the way to the party and when they got out it was another dash against the photographers and reporters. Fran was starting to wonder if she’d made the right decision to go with Marshall or not. There were bound to be a lot of people around here, and she wasn’t that good at it in the first place.
She settled down a bit when Marshall put a Coors into her hand and took her over to a slightly more private area of the party where just he, and three of his friends were hanging out before making the rounds. Three people, that she could deal with.
She talked and joked and laughed, Marshall pressed close to her side, interjecting only when he thought it was appropriated. He wasn’t as loud and rude as his album’s suggested, rather it was just the opposite. He smiled a lot more than his image described, and though she knew it, she was beginning to understand the importance of an image in this industry. Entertainment was going to be a lot of smoke and mirrors. So fuck the idea of getting a manager, or an agent, she could be herself for a lot longer without them.
About an hour into the party, Marshall asked her to dance. It had been the best offer of the night, so she took it. Despite the suspicious dancing he’d offered in many of his videos, the man could work his body better than any man she’d been with. She was having such a good time with Marshall’s body moving against hers and the words he was whispering in her ears that she didn’t notice that she wasn’t nervous.

AJ was standing at the door to Fran’s dressing room, waiting for her. People passed by in thinning numbers until it seemed like he was the only one there. And then he was the only one there. She’d said that she’d meet up with him after the show, right? So what happened?
He glanced at his cell phone for the last time that night and noticed that he had no messages, and that it was close to two AM. He felt like he’d swallowed a stone so much that he was sure the heaviness in his stomach was due to a gullet full of rocks. He hated to admit it, but Kevin was right.
But he wasn’t ready to admit it. He wanted to know where she was, what she was doing, who she was with. He was jealous of people he didn’t know yet. Jealous of people that she would never meet.
He waited for her a few more minutes then decided that it was best if he turn in for the night. Of course he hadn’t expected to see her here. That was just a coincidence. He hadn’t expected to really find her after the award show, did he?
Maybe he did, maybe all his hopes had been resting on this evening, and that’s why he had a stomach ache.

Honesty’s the Name of the Game We Play

Fran woke up and wondered where the hell she was. She didn’t pick up her head and just looked across the room not recognizing the austere and plain hotel room furnishings. This was not her room.
She was tempted to lift her head and turn but the weight of a person behind her didn’t allow for such movement. She tipped her head to see the arm that belonged to the hand that was clutching hers and was greeted with a large number “12” ingrained in the skin. As slowly and painfully as a tattoo is engraved and shaded into the skin, her realization of the night’s events came back to her.
She’d danced and drank, not as much as she did with her friends back home, but enough that it almost felt normal, okay. After Marshall had gotten her to loosen up, he introduced her to a few people and they were nice enough to pretend they knew who she was after her performance at the award show. By the time she’d had enough of the loud music, Marshall had as well, so they went back to his room for another drink.
She settled down on the couch, kicking off her shoes and pulling her legs underneath her, watching as Marshall bent over and searched through the mini bar. She swore she that she didn’t meant to say,
“Boy, I ain’t ever seen an ass like that.” But she did.
“And here I was thinking that I was the smartass,” he replied, returning to her side and handing her the opened bottle of beer.
“I can appreciate a good looking man when I see one,” she said as he handed the bottle to her. He’d sat down too close for comfort and she almost fidgeted as his nearness.
“Shy all of a sudden?” he asked.
“No.”
“Then sit still.” Marshall was to the point, and for some reason, Fran liked that. Smooth talking had it’s perks, but a straight man telling the truth always left more time for the important things, like talking. They sat silent for a moment, Marshall looking away as he put his own beer to his lips and took a swig.
“Are those stories you tell, are any of them true?” Marshall asked.
“Every one of them. Why, can’t believe ‘em?”
“No, I do, it’s just a lot of them are really personal, you talk more about yourself than anyone else.”
“Ever think that I’m just conceited?” He chuckled and she offered a smile, taking a hit off the bottle as she noticed that one of his knees was touching hers.
“How many of the stories that you tell have been without the permission of the people in the story?”
“None of them.”
“Then you’re not conceited. I’m conceited, so save that for me to deal with.” She was quiet again.
“You don’t talk about your dad, didn’t you know him?” This was a sore spot for Fran.
“Not really. I mean, I know who he is, but he’s never been around, never been in my life. He was sort of the scum around town. They kind of consider me the black bastard of the family, just because of him,” Fran replied stoically. She tried not to pretend that it didn’t bother her, but she was so used to not caring about him that it’s how it came out.
“Your mom’s white and your dad was black then?”
“You got it. My sisters, they’re actually my half-sisters. I mean, I love my step-dad, I actually call him my dad, I grew up with him, he’s a great guy, great to my mom and my sisters.”
“You ever miss having family that looks like you?”
“No. My family is my family, he walked out of it, so, that’s his regret to look back at, not mine. Anyway, as if you can’t tell, I don’t like talking about him.”
“I kind of figured that out, yeah.” He stared at her for a long time, so long that she had to look away.
“Hey, I’m right here, you know?”
“What?” she turned and looked at him.
“I’m right here,” he repeated, his face suddenly closer to hers than she ever remembered. Then he moved away.
“You understand that feeling of alienation, don’t you?” Fran asked.
“Alienation, why?”
“Being white in a black neighborhood, doing ‘black’ music, as they like to say.” He snorted slightly and laughed with a nod.
“You got that right, being trailer trash,” Marshall laughed. Fran held up her beer as in a toast,
“To crappy trailers, fathers that run off and feeling like the like the twisted twig in a bunch of flowers,” she laughed along with Marshall. He clicked his bottle against hers and shouted, “Amen!” Their laughter abated after a long while and then it was quiet again.
“You understand though,” she said with a little bit of seriousness to her voice.
“And you ain’t told me your life story,” he reminded her.
“Well, that’s pretty obvious, but this isn’t like a fairy tale or something, I don’t believe in that crap, hardly. When my mom told me the story about Cinderella, I just asked her why the bitch didn’t go to payless and get a pair of plastic shoes so they wouldn’t break!” Marshall was laughing so hard that his pale skin was red and he had tears in his eyes.
“Shit, that is the best one I’ve heard in a long, long time. I like that one, really Fran, it’s really great.” She allowed a comfortable silence to lapse between them, a silence that seemed to be bringing them closer together rather than a gap of widening unknowns.
“So is this a one night stand, or a pity fuck, Marshall?” She drank the last swallow in the bottle and looked over at the table as she leaned over to put the bottle down.
“We’re on a defining level already?”
“You’re being honest, I thought we’d just clear the air so there is no confusion. I mean, I’m not looking for something permanent, and I doubt you are, so lets be honest.” She was wrecking the easiness between them but she didn’t want things getting too friendly, she had too many “friends”, as it was now.
“Honest?” he asked, eyeing her, his bottle dangling in his hand.
“Yes, honest.”
“Honestly, I just thought that you and I could kick it for a while, and if you want to take it there, I’ll take it there. But don’t fool yourself into believing that you ain’t gonna have a problem in the morning,” he got up as he spoke, depositing the bottles in the trash.
“A problem?” she asked with screwed up eyebrows.
“A problem with leaving.”
“I never said that I’d have that problem.”
“I said don’t fool yourself into thinking that you won’t have a problem with leaving, two seconds into this and you ain’t paying attention,” he laughed, grabbing her hand and pulling her up off the couch.
“I’m paying attention, just don’t fool yourself into thinking that I’ll still be here in the morning.”
“I won’t.” Those were the last words she remembered until she felt his smile pressing into her shoulder, saying,
“Good morning, Fran.”

That Problem With Leaving and Staying

That smile pressed into her shoulder turned into a smirk and when she felt his teeth graze her skin lightly, she closed her eyes and shook her head.
“I told you you’d have a problem with leaving in the morning,” he laughed slightly, pulling her back under him and looking down on her closed eyes.
“I don’t have a problem with leaving, you keep telling me that I do.” She wouldn’t open her eyes, if she opened them she’d have to face the thing she was trying to avoid.
“Then why are you still here?” he asked. She could see him smiling even though she wouldn’t look at him.
“Because you’re on top of me.”
“And you couldn’t push me off?” he snickered and she didn’t want to pretend anymore.
“That wouldn’t be polite, now would it?” she asked, returning a smile, opening her eyes to see eyes that were entirely too-childlike for the chiseled face they were encased in. He was kissing her good morning before she could speak again. It was a good morning-thanks for last night-not worried about morning breath, kiss that sapped her of any strength to want to leave.
“Breakfast?” he asked, she could only nod.

Later that afternoon Fran packed up her hotel room and made her last minute arrangements over the phone as she gathered her things. She confirmed her hotel reservation and show times, wanting to have enough time to get there and not have to automatically run on stage.
While she was speaking to the manager of one of the venues there was a knock at the door. She continued to talk, opening the door without looking to see who it was, turning and just waving them in as she finished up her conversation. She heard the door close and finished up with the person on the other end of the line. When she turned to see who it was, she dropped her phone.
“AJ? Wow, I uh, wasn’t expecting you,” she stammered, grabbing her phone quickly and walking it over to her bag on the entry table.
“I guess you weren’t expecting me last night either,” he replied cautiously.
“Were we supposed to meet up then?”
“I thought we were.”
“But you didn’t tell me that,” Fran retorted honestly, with a slight of smile to her lips. She was right on that count, AJ had to admit.
“So what did you do last night?” He tried to be casual, but that was something that usually didn’t work out for him.
“I hooked up with someone, partied a bit, you know,” Fran replied nonchalantly.
“Hooked up as in…what?” AJ crinkled his eyebrows as he stood there, watching as the girl of his dreams, nightmares and reality began to break his heart.
“Met a guy, went and danced, went back to his hotel room, do I need to go into further detail for you?” Fran snapped, quickly walking away from the door and back to the closet she had been emptying earlier. AJ followed, a few steps behind, unsure that he had any voice left to complain.
“You slept with someone?”
“Yes, I did.”
“But what about, I don’t know, us, this thing, we had going?”
“What about it?” Fran looked directly into his eyes and was shocked by the hurt she saw registered there. Guilt panged into her veins and she remembered what sorry felt like.
“I thought we were going to try and get along,” AJ nearly squeaked.
“I’m not going to be tied down,” Fran stated flatly, folding a pair of jeans and placing them in a pile, “We didn’t make rules, so I didn’t break any.”
“So that makes it okay?”
“Look, AJ, you’re a nice guy, I was a nice girl, I got screwed around on, all the time, I’m not going to make the same mistake again. I was faithful, I’m gonna be the bad one this time, I’m going to hold the control in the relationship. I’m going to call the shots.” Guilt pinged back and forth between her words as she realized that she couldn’t make herself look at him.
“And I’m supposed to just go along with that then? I’m supposed to be the one screwed around on and wait for you to give me the time of day?”
“Yup, and if you don’t want to, you know where the door is.” AJ threw up his hands in disbelief, shaking his head.
“I can’t believe that I defended you, that I thought this was possible. You’re not the girl I thought you were.”
“No, I’m not, because I’m not a girl, AJ, I’m a woman, a full grown, adult, who can make her own choices and decisions. I want a chance to play the field, I’ve never done that before, I’ve done the whole commitment thing, and I’ve been the only one committed. It’s your call, but if you stay or you go, remember, you deal with the consequences.” AJ snarled and whirled around, too angry to look at her.
“I’m, fuck it, I’m out of here.” Fran watched him go and felt that guilt prickling in the back of her neck. She heard her phone ring and hurried to answer it, smiling when she read “Marshall” on the display.

Cheaters and Heart Eaters

“Man, you’ve been stewing for the last three days, something has got to be up with you. Now either you come out here and tell me what’s been going on or I come in there and beat the crap out of you,” Kevin stood outside of AJ’s bedroom door and knocked in between words. AJ had been holed up in his room since they left Miami and returned to his home in Tampa.
“Age, come on man, really, this isn’t gonna fix anything, is it?” Kevin asked. After a minute or so AJ came to the door and opened it.
“What?” he snapped.
“So your girl dumped you, right?”
“No need to say ‘I told you so’, I know, okay? I know,” AJ replied, pushing Kevin out of the way.
“You really liked her, didn’t you?”
“No shit. Fucking A, I mean, really and truly, have I not figured out when I’ve met a sleaze bag? I mean, Kelly, she ripped my guts out the first chance she got, never saw that coming. Then Alyssa, she screwed around every chance she got, and Meredith, she was always in it for the money. Dammit, when am I gonna figure it out?” Kevin followed AJ on his rant into the kitchen.
“It’s the only way you do figure it out man. Even when you think you got it good, look what happens. Look what happened with Kristen, I thought I had it with her, and I’ve known her over ten years. You can never tell.”
“Yeah, and I’ve have enough of trying to tell. Enough of going out there, trying to make a go of it when I’m the only one trying. I don’t care anymore, I just don’t.” AJ threw up his hands and turned away.
“Don’t say that man, you’ll find somebody, you will.”
“Oh what, like Kristen?” AJ snapped.
“No, not like Kristen. There are other women out there, women who don’t do that shit.”
“Yeah, there’s one of them, the perfect blond Leighanne, and that’s it. What am I thinking, even wanting to get involved with someone else? After all the screw-ups, even, just my screw-ups. I don’t need to be dragging somebody into this mess.”
“Your mess? Age, you’ve been sober for four years, you’ve started a solo album, a new company. So how are you screwing up?”
“I don’t know. Look man, I’m just gonna, I’ll drive you home in a bit, kay?” AJ looked defeated as he looked at Kevin. He nodded solemnly, knowing that further discussion on the matter would only make AJ feel more like shit.
AJ was sensitive, much more than Nick ever had been and the roller coaster of bad relationships he’d been on in the last ten years hadn’t made things any easier. AJ took everything personally, Kevin remembered the hundreds of times that he’d had to calm AJ down over tabloid stories and rumors. When AJ had started dating it wasn’t easy. AJ had been burned so many times by girls and women that just wanted his fame, his money, each one had left him a little more sensitive, a little more vulnerable, and a little more cynical. It was hard though, even though he’d been hurt so much, he wanted to believe that he was meant to find someone to spend the rest of his life with, so he’d try, and ignore little things, then he’d be let down all over again. Kevin didn’t want AJ to fall so easily, but he also didn’t want him to give up so quickly.
AJ went into the kitchen to find something to eat but wasn’t really hungry after he looked through the cabinets and realized he’d been full on what he’d eaten of his heart. Every time he allowed himself to think about it he got angry all over again. He’d went through so much to try and understand this girl, to get close to her, to figure her out, and it was all shot down in one night. But that’s what he did, he fell so hard that he didn’t have a chance to try and keep his head from hitting the floor. Then he was always let down and it hurt that much more.
Feeling further depressed just thinking about the situation, AJ returned to the living room, hoping to find something to distract him.

Fran sat against the headboard, feet stuck under the covers as she flipped channels. Her show had gone over quite well, though she was quite conscious of how many times she pushed her hair back on the left and she felt a pang of guilt every time she did it. It’d been a week since her night out with AJ, their make out session in his car, their sort of date, their nice conversation. She couldn’t help it, the guy had been so sweet, so nice and she’d totally fucked him over.
Who had she been to tell him she didn’t get into the personal thing with people and then nearly have sex with him in his backseat and then turn around and fuck Eminem. What kind of person was she?
Angry with herself she turned off the TV and flung the remote on the bed. She really was being the one in control now. She’d controlled him right out of any possibility of anything. She wasn’t tied down now, she was being the bad one, because everyone she’d ever been with had been that way. So why didn’t she feel like everything was turning out the way she wanted it?
Because nothing was.
She got up and wandered around her Motel 8 room, stopping at the window to pull back the curtains. The parking lot was deserted except for two other cars besides her rental and the lights glared like it were a stage. She turned back and let the curtain fall closed as she returned to sit on the edge of the bed.
She was a bitch.
Shaking her head at herself she stood up again and decided to go get something to eat. She found her shoes hiding under the edge of the bed and slipped them on while she was checking her hair.
“Eat your hearts out gentlemen,” she sighed, pressing her hands down on the counter.
“I’m such a fucking hypocrite!” she shouted at herself before turning out the light. She was about to grab her purse when there was a knock at the door. Still cursing herself she went to the door and opened it.
“I thought you might be hungry, so I bought a pizza.”

Duck Lucky

“Um, thanks,” Fran opened the door and he came in.
“I wasn’t sure what you’d like, so I got everything, if that’s all right.”
“That’s fine.”
“What, you’re not gonna say anything?”
“I thought I was.”
“No, you’re standing there with the door open.”
“Oh, yeah, right,” Fran shut the door quickly.
“Come on, I got plates too, I know you’re hungry, you didn’t eat all day.”
“I know, I was nervous.”
“What for?”
“I got to tell you something.”
“Oh?”
“I’m not gonna be exclusive with you, there I said it.”
“No, you’re not? Good thing I brought my ass along on this trip then.”
“I’m not gonna lie to you. I’ve been in a lot of committed relationships before, and I’ve been the only one who’s had to be committed and faithful, and I want to date around.”
“You want to screw around is more like it, right?”
“No, well,” Fran composed herself and nodded, “Yeah, I want to screw around, I’m not going to pussy foot around the issue.”
“Well it ain’t gonna happen, s’long as I’m in the picture.”
“No?”
“No, it ain’t.” Fran laughed and stood up to pace the room.
“I don’t remember giving you a choice in the matter, Em.”
“I don’t remember giving you a choice in the matter either, Fran.”
“Don’t push me Em, I mean it.” She heard him stand up from the bed.
“Don’t push you? Are you really saying this shit, to me? Look Fran, you knew what kind of person I was, the minute you met me, don’t start this shit with me.”
“So this is the way you like it then? Fighting and bitching and screaming all the time. Get a damn life that’s real for a change!” Fran was surprised to hear herself shouting at him.
“Real, you don’t call this real? I’m in a fucking Motel 8, chasing after a fucking girl that wants to screw around on me. What’s unreal about that!”
“Did you ever think for one moment that the reason no one stays with you is because you aren’t the faithful one? Did you ever come to the conclusion that maybe there is something wrong with you, and not the other way around!” Fran regretted it the moment she said it. His face registered with shock.
“God, Shady, I’m sorry, I’m a fucking asshole,” she said, sinking down on the bed. He didn’t say anything, not for a long time, just stood there.
Fran got up and went to him, putting a hand up to his neck, smoothing down the soft hairs and repeating what she’d already said.
“Shady, please, I’m sorry.” He wouldn’t look at her and when he did the brightness of his eyes hurt her own.
“For some fucking reason, I got myself, mixed up, with you, and for what reason, after a fucking week, you got me, I don’t know,” he stammered.
“I’m sorry Shady, I am. I’m really sorry,” she crooned. He kissed her full on the lips then, forgetting that he was angry, forgetting that she had come right out and told him that she didn’t want to be faithful, that she wanted to be a bitch.
“I’m some lucky duck, to find you,” she said after a moment.
“Duck lucky, you’re just damn duck lucky.” He laughed.
“Hey, I thought we covered this, I’m the comedian.” He brushed the hair back from the left side of her face and she realized that she missed AJ.

What Happens When You Call Mama

Things weren’t much different the next night except that Eminem wasn’t in the Motel with Fran, but in Detroit visiting with his daughter. But it was the same. She was alone, feeling bad for herself, bad for AJ, bad for Em. She hated herself and she went straight to the bar after her show. She’d spent half an hour there before hearing a Backstreet Boys song played on the jukebox and returned to her room. She’d have to get drunk there and it’s what she was in the process of doing.
The comforter she sat on cross-legged was stained in several places and the wallpaper was peeling off in one corner of the room. There was a burned spot on the nightstand where a cigarette had fallen out of the ashtray and that’s where she sat her beer down as she turned to pick up a container of Chinese take out. Before she realized it she had picked up her phone and dialed her home.
“Mama, hi, it’s Fran.”
“Of course it’s Fran, who else would call me Mama?” Fran chuckled and sat back.
“How are you Mama?”
“Good, busy at work, but that’s not a bad thing.”
“You like working there Mama?”
“Of course I do, why do you think I still work there?”
“Cause you’re a damned fool and won’t listen to your daughter who wants to take care of you.”
“I’d be working just this hard if I didn’t have a job and you know it.”
“Mama, why won’t you let me get you your own studio, you could really make a go of it, you and Georgia, you’d really be something down there, I’m telling you.”
“What for? Darling, you’ve done enough for all of us already, I mean that.”
“I like being able to take care of you Mama, you and the girls, even Dad, you know that.”
“Don’t you worry about us so much, you just take care of yourself. You worry about finding yourself a man to marry and giving me some grandchildren.”
“Well, that ain’t going too well lately.”
“Oh? You’ve been looking have you?”
“At two of them, and I don’t know what to do.”
“My little girl has caused a love triangle!”
“It’s only been a week Mama, and don’t sound so proud, it’s not such a good thing to be.”
“Oh please baby, it’s about some time you broke some hearts of your own. You’ve been down that shit holed road so many times that you really deserve a break. So date around, you’re young, you’re entitled.”
“But I think I really hurt this guy.”
“Baby, how many times have you been hurt?”
“But I should know better than to do it, to another person, shouldn’t I?”
“That’s your call baby. If you’re so worried about it, why don’t you call him, apologize, I don’t know sweetie.”
“I could, I suppose.”
“What’s the matter Franny?”
“I liked him Ma, I think I really liked him.”
“So, do something about it.”
“I know you’re right, I’ve just been sitting around, feeling guilty about it, and well that ain’t working.”
“You know what I’ve always told you baby girl, you got to find the way that’s right for you then not feel guilty about it. Nobody can know but you.” Fran sat for a quiet moment and heard her mother take a deep breath.
“Are you okay Fran?”
“I guess so. But I don’t know.”
“Baby, I got to get going, George is taking me and the girls out to a late night movie.”
“Oh that’s nice, I guess I’ll let you go then. Give dad and the girls my love.”
“I will sweetie, and look, if he’s meant to be, he’ll be, okay?”
“Thanks Mama, I’ll talk to you soon.”
“Bu-bye sweetie.”
“Bye Mama.” Fran closed her phone and wondered if what her Mama had been saying was right. She’d grown up with her mother always telling her to do what was right and felt right to her. She remembered her mother’s exact saying about guilt.
“Guilt,” she would say, as though she were spitting out a sour candy, “is more of a waste of energy than smashing up bananas to make bread with, so if you’re gonna waste all that time feeling guilty, you’re gonna miss out on a lot of tasty banana bread.” Fran chuckled as remembered, smiling for the first time that night. She chuckled until it came out in a real, hearty laugh that made her stomach hurt and her eyes tear up.
In the midst of her laughing there was a knock at the door. She shook her head, wiped away her tears and stood up to answer it. Composing herself her opened the door and realized she couldn’t have been composed enough.
“I figured you for a Motel 8 kind of girl.”
“You figured right,” Fran replied, trying to hide that she was nervous, “I just got some Chinese food, you want to join me?”
“Yeah, I would.” He stepped inside and Fran closed the door behind him.
“It was a good show tonight, I particularly liked the story about you and your mom at the grocery store when you were seven.”
“Yeah, the lobsters, who knew the seafood man didn’t like to play with them?” He chuckled and sat on the bed, taking a takeout carton in hand.
“Sweet and sour chicken, my favorite,” he said after a bite.
“Mine too. So AJ, what have you been up to?”
“You mean besides obsessing? Not much. Why do you ask?” She walked toward the bed where he was still eating from the container. He took a moment to look at her while chewing then back at the carton.
“Cause, I don’t know, maybe cause I treated you like a piece of shit and was too stupid to apologize?” He paused in his motions but didn’t look at her, didn’t speak.
“I’m a hypocrite, I know that. I told you that I wasn’t good at the personal stuff, then I ended up in bed with somebody else in no time flat. I don’t know what it was, but I just kind of let it happen. I don’t apologize for what I did, but for how I did it, and expecting you to understand. You think you could deal with that?”
“What’s his name?” AJ went back to eating from the carton.
“Does it matter?”
“I got to know what I’m up against, don’t I? Or is he out of the picture already?” He turned and looked at her this time as she stood at the side of the bed.
“No, he’s still in it, and he didn’t take the idea of me dating around any better than you did.”
“What’s he like then?”
“It doesn’t matter. But look, I’ve been feeling, really awful about this, and I want you to know that I’ve been thinking about you a lot,” Fran explained.
“So you’re thinking about me when you’re with him, and you’ll be thinking of him while you’re with me, is that how it’s supposed to work?” There was some ice to his tone and she couldn’t blame him.
“When I’m with you?” she asked, surprised.
“Why do you think I’m here? I didn’t come out here banging on doors of cheap hotels for a good night out.”
“But, I, I was,” Fran started.
“An asshole, but I’ve squared with that now. I’ve been through a lot of bullshit too, and if you turn out to be like the rest of them, well, it’ll be reason enough to quit this game I’ve been playing for too long.”
“This ain’t gonna be easy.”
“I doubt very much that this is going to be easy.”
“And what do you get out of this?” Fran asked. He sighed, placed the container on the dresser in front of him and stood up. His hand caressed her face, combed through her hair and held her gently. She stepped closer and he had his arm around her waist pressing his face into her hair.
“I get this, for the little amount of time I’m allowed.”
“This?” Fran asked carefully.
“Fred. I get you, and Fred.”

Enjoying the Banana Bread

The things she and AJ talked about that night had no end. Fun stuff, stupid stuff, down right personal and scary stuff. They talked about it all. They sat across from one another on the bed, swapping stories and memories, upsets, heartbreaks, big breaks and opinions on fame and Hollywood. He was genuine now, not hiding behind an intention, he’d been too hurt to have anything left to hide. His brown eyes registered when he was remembering something funny, serious, confusing, acting as a barometer to his feelings. She examined his tattoos on his hands and neck, asking about each one of them. They showed each other pictures of their families, their friends, explaining relationships and hair colors at different stages of life.
Whatever it was that had happened between them, that had cut a week out of the time that they knew each other, seemed to have evaporated. Fran was so comfortable that taking AJ’s hand and looking at the various ink markings on each finger, was not something that made her nervous. AJ let her look, let her touch, all the while wondering what was on her mind until each thought spilled from her lips and told him. Precious little did she intend to keep from him and he realized there was nothing that she wouldn’t be able to get him to tell her.
He hated how fast he’d said “I love you” moments before and she loved the way he just blurted it out. So he loved her, as long as he didn’t start that bringing flowers and candy shit that other guys did. They were promises, smelly, perfumed, sticky, sweet, and ultimately impermanent promises. Aside from that, she loved him too. “Like Sandra Dee loved Danny Zucko in Grease.” As if that wasn’t bad enough, she went on to sing the theme song, “Hoo, hoo, hoo, honey, you’re the one that I want!” Until AJ was laughing so hard they both were crying.
She kissed his cheek, right below his eye and pulled back, waiting for the question in his eyes. The sun was coming up behind the curtain and the clock alarm was due to go off in a minute or four, would the spell be broken? The radio blared and his eyes didn’t return from hers.
“You to get some breakfast for the road?” Fran asked.
“Yeah, where are we going next?”
“Tallahassee.”
“Great.” It was as if that first night had never ended.

“This is a great song,” AJ remarked as the radio blared out Jason Mraz’s “Remedy.” Fran nodded and looked over at him for a second. He wore his sunglasses as the early morning sun shone on top of his baseball cap. Pieces of donut clung to his lips and his fingertips were shiny with black polish and sticky glaze. It was perfect, he was perfect, this moment, it was the best piece of banana bread she’d ever had, sweeter too.
“Enjoying that donut, are you?” she smirked.
“Profoosley!” he said through a smile and a mouthful of pastry. She leaned over while she was driving and planted a kiss on his sticky lips, grinning and raising her eyebrows as she turned back to the road.
“So your sister is really gonna like the car?” AJ asked, licking the sticky off his fingers.
“She’s the queen of pink, so yeah,” Fran returned, adjusting the mirror slightly.
“But this is a lot of pink, I mean, come on, the dashboard is pink,” AJ motioned to the dashboard.
“And you have every single one of your fingers tattooed, you should like extremes.”
“Not in pink though.”
“She’ll love the car. It’s for her eighteenth birthday, so she’ll be ecstatic.”
“She know she’s getting a car?”
“Hell no. I told her the only way she’d get a car is by paying for it herself. She got a part time job to start saving up, this will make her day.”
“You drive a car like this then?” AJ asked, curious of the answer.
“Hardly. I’ve got a clunker of a bike at home. Too sentimental to trash it, I want to get it fixed up real nice. Paint job, tune up, everything, bring her back to her old glory.”
“Yeah, what color?”
“High gloss black baby, with shiny chrome wheels, ha ha,” Fran clicked her tongue and smiled at him.
“Good taste.”
“You should know.”

They ate lunch at a diner and spent the afternoon in the pink backseat of the car, kissing until their lips were sore and Fran was laughing till AJ laughed too.
“Damn baby, you frustrate me,” he laughed, holding her palm to his lips as he closed his eyes.
“I didn’t know I was making out with John Mayer in the backseat of the Petobismal car.”
“Bring your candy lips and bubble gum tongue back over here and shut up.” She climbed into his lap and kissed him hard again, vacuuming the air out of his lungs.
“Oh don’t do that,” he gasped, blushing.
“Why?” she asked, sitting back on his knees and noticing his predicament.
“You’re fucking killing me girl!” he laughed, his head falling back on the seat and laughing.
“How about I bring you back to life?” he asked, teeth on the shell of his ear.
“No, I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
“You’re not asking me, what, you think that I’m that innocent? McLean, you’re sorely mistaken, and I’m sure that you’re not a virgin when it comes to this either. Just because you’re a Backstreet Boy does not mean you’ve never gotten head before.” Her fingers were already pulling his shirt out of the way of his belt.
“I never said you were innocent, you’re definitely not innocent. But,” AJ stuttered.
“McLean, just shut up and relax already.” She undid his belt and undid the button on his pants.
“You’re too beautiful, to do that,” AJ replied.
“I’m not too beautiful for anything,” she said before she pulled down the zipper on his jeans and pushed him down on the backseat.

After, when she crawled up his body and kissed him, he tasted what she had done on her tongue and held her a long time.
“Feel better McLean?” she asked, drawing circles with her fingers on his arm.
“Mm,” was all he could reply, pressing his lips down into the top of her head.
“Are you sorry that you came to see me?” she asked.
“No, I’m not. Are you sorry that you let me walk out?”
“Of course I am.”
“Are you gonna leave him alone?”
“No. Are you gonna hate me for it?”
“Probably, but I love you too much to think about that much.” Of course that was a lie. He thought about him, the other man, too much and his limbs ached from not punching out the frustration.
“It’s passion, either way. Indifference, that’s the worst of it all.”
“Hmm.” He nodded and kissed the top of her head again.
“Would you believe something if I told you it?”
“What’s that?”
“You’re the first man I’ve ever wanted to do that for.”
“Oh.”
“Just think McLean, you’re no longer a Backstreet Boy, you’re a Backseat Man.” And they laughed until their stomachs ached.

What You Have To Let Go Of

Later that night, after her show, Fran took AJ back to her dressing room while she got ready to go out and greet her fans. She did her usual routine and when she was getting ready, AJ asked her something.
“Do you want me to leave, so that you can have your spot light?”
“What?” Fran asked, thoroughly confused.
“I don’t want to be conceited or anything, but it’s happened before. My ex-fiancée accused me of stealing her spotlight all the time.” AJ replied.
“Then she wasn’t exactly all that gracious for what you got for her. AJ don’t worry about it. If people would rather talk to you than talk to me, that is perfectly okay. I’m not exactly pleased about having to do this all the time in the first place. Besides, I’m not going to go make you sit alone in a hotel room because you might have a couple people talking to you instead of me, that’s insane. I’m not ashamed of you.” AJ cracked a smile at her reply. She turned from the dressing table to look at him.
“Okay?” she asked.
“Okay,” he smiled.
“Good, now you, get your cute ass over here and give me a good luck kiss for my fans and we’ll be on our way.” He did as she asked he was reminded why he’d found her so attractive in the first place. She wanted what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to ask for it. It was a nice change.

A little over an hour later they were back at the hotel working their way through some room service food and talking again.
“You sure you don’t mind me drinking in front of you?” Fran asked as she went to grab a beer from the fridge.
“I’m sure. Besides, that wasn’t my drink of choice, always Jack Daniel’s.”
“Still,” Fran mused as she looked over at him.
“Really go on, my friends drink around me, and it’s no big deal, really,” AJ had no problem with it. He’d been dealing with it for four years, it didn’t matter too much to him now whether the people around him drank or not. What mattered was whether he drank and he didn’t, so there was nothing more to it.
“But you don’t make out with your friends, unless there’s something you’re not telling me,” Fran said with a raised eyebrow.
“Oh yes, you caught us. The Backstreet Boys are gay and fuck each other senseless whenever we can’t get a girl. That’s why two of us are married, to women, and one has a kid,” AJ rolled his eyes.
“Hey you never know, Lance Bass, sweetie.” She took the cap off the Coors and tossed it the garbage before returning to him.
“A lot of people knew, his bandmates were just clueless.”
“Not a problem with you guys then?”
“Please, Nick was girl crazy from the second I met him, Brian was always in mushy love with Leighanne, just as much as Kevin was with Kristen, and Howie, he’s just too busy. Always off on some business deal or another, his last girlfriend gave him an ultimatum, her or his real estate deal, and well, you can imagine how well that went.”
“Ouch, a house over her, that’s gotta hurt.”
“Needless to say I don’t go to Howie for relationship advice.”
“Hey, how is Kevin by the way?” AJ wasn’t sure how to respond, he didn’t know much of what Kevin had decided, he wasn’t sure what he was gonna do when he left.
“I think he’s getting the message that she’s over him. Considering that she was the biggest reason he left the band, he’s pissed that she’s doing this to him.”
“I would imagine so.”
“I don’t know. I told him to just divorce her cheating ass and get it over with. It’s not like she’ll get anything in the divorce anyway. Prenup is iron clad. She’s got no leg to stand on.”
“Do you feel that way about me?” Fran asked and AJ felt as if all the air had been sucked out of his lungs.
“Why, because you’re with me and what’s his name?” He wouldn’t look at her.
“Yeah.”
“I don’t know what I’m thinking to be honest.”
“I didn’t ask what you were thinking, I asked what you were feeling.”
“I feel like the second I leave I’m gonna regret being with you, but what the fuck, it’s the way it’s been with all the women I’ve been with, why should you be different.”
“McLean, look, if this is too much for you, just tell me. I’m not gonna expect that you stay with me if it’s hurting you.”
“Of course it’s hurting me, thinking about you with him. It fucking kills me. And it makes me wonder why I’m not good enough, why I’m just not enough for you. What is it that he does that I don’t do?” His voice rose slightly and she understood his anger.
“I can’t answer that,” Fran replied quietly.
“Why not?”
“McLean, it’s not that easy. It’s been a week, and I’m so involved with two people, I mean, this is happening like I never had it happen before. I don’t know what I’m doing, I don’t know what I’m thinking, feeling, it’s all just so much a jumble.”
“Yeah, and do you love him, like me?”
“That’s not the point, McLean,” Fran said pathetically, looking towards him.
“No? Then what is? If you love him, tell me that,” AJ looked at her hard and she was afraid.
“I can’t tell him that I love him, he won’t hear it, and he won’t say it.”
“But you do love him, don’t you?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“And you love me?”
“Yes.”
“You love both of us?” Us, like he was part of a brotherhood with this man who was taking his girl, us, like they were a team or something. AJ wanted to vomit.
“Yes.”
“Then what’s so complicated?”
“The fact that I’m involved with two men when I was hurt by guys who did this to me.”
“Does it feel any better to be on the other end of it?”
“No,” Fran answered immediately.
“Is this all our relationship gonna be? Talking about the fact that this ‘we’ is not two, but three?”
“It seems that way, now.”
“But it doesn’t have to be.”
“Then quit bringing it up, McLean.”
“You were the one who asked me if I thought of you that way!” AJ retorted.
“So what, you didn’t have to answer me,” Fran replied, a slight smile on her lips.
“You are so fucking annoying!” AJ laughed, falling back on the mattress.
“And like you’re not?”
“I never said that.”
“You got to go home tomorrow,” Fran interrupted.
“Why?” AJ asked as he looked up at her. She didn’t answer and looked away.
“Oh, he’s gonna be here, right?”
“He said he’d meet me in Pensacola and then he’s coming home with me to Mud Hollow.”
“How long is he gonna be there?”
“A few days, then he’s got to go back to work.”
“What’s he do?”
“McLean,” Fran warned. He put his hands up in peace.
“All right, all right, I’ll let it go, only if I can grab onto something else.”
“What now?”
“You.”
“That I can arrange.” AJ forgot everything else and allowed himself to love Fran as if he were the only man in her life. He held onto her, kissing her, touching, forgetting that in the morning he would have to stop his car to vomit out the pain and frustration.

Color Me Consequence

When AJ arrived home late the next night, he found Kevin’s car in the driveway and knew what was coming. Kevin knew where he’d gone and not the reason why. Kevin was there to check up on him and lecture him. They didn’t call him daddy Kevin for nothing.
Dreading the questions, AJ got out of the car, carrying his bag with him and opened the door.
“Good, you’re back.”
“Nice to see you too,” AJ snorted, dumping his bag and keys at the door, not in the mood to put anything away. Kevin’s voice was coming from the kitchen so he followed it. He was at the counter, making a pot of coffee and waiting for AJ to come in.
“I take it things went well?”
“Well? What’s the definition of ‘well’?” AJ asked, leaning back against the counter and looking at Kevin.
“Then they didn’t.”
“Hard to say, honestly.”
“Did you think it would be easy?”
“Not necessarily.”
“Then why did you go?”
“Satisfy my curiosity I guess?”
“You’re a nice guy AJ, why would you want to waste the time of day on her?”
“I’m not wasting time when I’m with her,” AJ retorted angrily.
“What do you call running off to see a woman who’s already got another boyfriend?”
“You’re marriage!” AJ spat.
“Not anymore,” Kevin said slowly.
“No?”
“I served her the divorce papers while you were out on your little jaunt with the whore of Hollywood and she signed them off right away. I’ll be single again on next Tuesday.” AJ’s jaw dropped as he heard Kevin relate this news as if he were talking about going and getting some of his clothes dry-cleaned.
“You went through with it?”
“No sense to keep it going. She just didn’t love me anymore.”
“Is that all?”
“Don’t question me when you’re the one going after a cheating woman.”
“You don’t know her.”
“Neither do you,” Kevin replied calmly. AJ clenched his jaw as Kevin took a slow sip off his coffee cup.
“Yeah, I do.” Kevin straightened up to his full height, and he was intimidating.
“Oh really, then what’s her reason for treating you like this? You’re a sensitive person AJ, a caring person, despite how much you want to ignore it. You feel things a lot deeper than you admit to. AJ, if you allow yourself to get involved with her, you’ll be broken and hurt again.”
“So what, isn’t that what I’m good at? Being tragic and heartbroken? Isn’t that what makes the best music? The Consequences of Falling in Love, or better yet, Color Me Consequence, that’ll be the first single. I’ll have the number one pop/rock hit because I fell for somebody who didn’t want me, again!” AJ shouted as he stormed out of the room. Kevin followed him.
“Don’t give me that crap Alex!”
“No? It’s the truth isn’t it? What the fuck am I supposed to do Kevin? My entire life revolves around Backstreet Boys, which is non-existent anymore, I spend all of my time working, and for what? There are days that I come home and have to lock the god damn door to keep myself from running out and finding something to drink. I’m tired of having to be alone with that.”
“You don’t have to be alone with that Alex, you have us, you’re family, your friends.”
“Oh cut the psycho babble bullshit, I had to deal enough with that crap when I was in rehab. Ever since 1999, that’s all my life’s been about. Drugs and booze, when could I get it, how much I could drink, how I could hide it, when I couldn’t do that anymore, it was how do I keep myself from trying to get it, from wanting it. Everyday of my life is a god damn chemical battle! My body wants it, but it can’t have, so it settles for a pack of cigarettes and later that night a nicotine fit when carton is empty! I’m sick of all of you, telling me that you understand, that you’re always there for me, that’s all well and good, but it don’t mean shit when you can’t stand to sit still and not want something to calm your nerves!” AJ raged through the kitchen, turning and pacing, then back again. Kevin watched with a stoic expression as he paced and finally fell back against the counter, banging a fist onto the cabinet.
“And Fran fits into all of this how?”
“When I’m with her, I don’t need it, I don’t want it. She doesn’t ridicule me about smoking, or drinking, or the drugs. She doesn’t care. She looks at me, and doesn’t say, ‘oh you’re so strong for getting through such a difficult time.’ No, just looks at me, calls me McLean, and says she loves me, for no other fucking reason except that I am McLean, and I’m there with her.” Kevin watched the younger man and sipped at the coffee.
“She makes me calm. She makes me laugh. She makes me want to be happy. I’ve never wanted to be happy before, cause I always know that it can be taken away.” AJ continued, Kevin waited knowing that he wasn’t finished.
“And so it’s been a week? I don’t care. So, she’s seeing someone else? I don’t care. The few hours that I get with her, they-are-fuck-ing-bliss. And I mean that, truly.” Kevin didn’t know how to respond so he didn’t and just sipped at his coffee again.
“And you can deal with the consequences of spending time with a woman who is not faithful to you, and tells you this right to your face?” Kevin asked after what seemed and eon.
“I said my first single would be Color Me Consequence, so what the hell do you think?”