The green room was setup for a party, stocked with the healthy food required by the locavore singers and just enough junk food to keep the traditionalists happy. Running the backstage lineup was not a hard job, except when it meant trying to figure out who the latest young star WAS. She'd just knock on the dressing room and make eye contact with whomever seemed to be in the bull's eye of the storm of hangers on. They all looked alike to her nowadays. Associate Producer was still just a fancier title for Backstage Slave.
He came up on her from behind. "Woooowie!!" He whistled and greeted her like she was Marilyn. She felt that way. Not seeing him for a few years was good for her, but she worked hard on polishing herself up, just in case.
She was wearing her traditional black, but this dress was especially shapely on her. It made her feel like the differences between her and the people actually in the spotlight were not that big. She was freely allowed onstage, was an important person backstage, greeted warmly by everyone. She even got up to the mike, to check it for sound. She just wasn't the one the audience wanted. It was this, the "passing" that she loved. If your friends are glittery enough, then it rubs off on you. She was infamous for being the one with the most biting remarks at the after-parties. Her wits got her by, even if her looks weren't always fully up to snuff.
Her skin was freshly tanned and delicious, his fingers seemed to be tasting chocolate for the first time as they brushed against her arm. He turned his smile on full throttle as he beamed in her direction.
Even though his girlfriend was standing next to him, burning a hole through the floor.
She quickly introduced herself to the girlfriend, twisting the knife by ignoring him just enough. He hated being deflected, hated when his charms failed. But he had the instincts of a shark and kept moving to a fresh flock across the room, where he knew he'd be eagerly devoured.
"I love how boys are puppies around pretty girls", she said as they watched him begin to flirt at the cheese table. There were several teenage girls who had piled their hair on top of their heads as if the gym look were suitable for dress-up events. They had no idea who he was, only a vague sense of who he thought he was. They didn't even care enough to watch the concert, daughters of the venue who helped to sell popcorn during the summers. He began to fumble with his plate when she and her skinny body slumped away from him, leaving him off center enough to knock his cheese onto the carpet.
"Yeah, it must be fun to egg them on, when you are pretty. When you are cruel." His girlfriend was a plain jane, which meant a few things. Obviously, she was eager to return to being a wallflower, and the one who would help him with all the details, from making sure he had water onstage to keeping his guitar case stocked with condoms. "To store the mic", he said. It was an old technique from the sixties, to keep the dust off when they were packed away. The cruelest Sound Guys spent performances taking a safety pin to their supply- hoping to reward any thieves with a surprise Fatherhood. The girlfriend did not look like the type who would poke holes in any of his condoms, even as a warning.
He was just one of many celebrities, singers, has beens and wannabes that were on the schedule. But he was playing his part valiantly, moving on to the next victim, who was turned to stone as soon as he spoke to her. The other end of the spectrum, no wonder famous people go crazy.
"This is me in costume. I'd never been pretty until last year. At least now I'm trying. My hair, my outfit. I'm the shy one, but I'm good at pretending. He's the one who was pretty when he was young, and now fame still sticks to him. And he's kept looking good, different, but good."
"He's got a dark side, though," the girlfriend surprised her by claiming his troubles, agreeing to them publicly. She wouldn't even have to dig to find out how mean he was these days.
"I know. I worked for him for a few years. At the radio station. He'd put me on the air when he couldn't make it through a whole show,"
"So you are HER?" The girlfriend sized her up in a full frontal approach. More questioning than attacking. Both looked at a reflection of themselves. They were not the pretty birds of prey. They were attractive for their qualities of working hard, of persistence. And they both knew that he glittered like gold to all the other girls. Surface attracts surface. The pretty ones would scatter in the morning, if he hadn't kicked them out the night before. Guys like him didn't have friends or girlfriends, so much as he had "handlers". People who had to "handle" everything. They recognized this in each other quickly.
The show ran fine, without much incident after that. Except one thing.
He pulled her up onstage for the finale. Had the audience clap for her, even though she wasn't the main organizer. But he kept holding onto her arm and had her sing on one of the 5 shared mics. Nobody could hear her, even if she was good or bad, it didn't matter. He knew she'd like it, and he made her remember that she sang.
Besides, he was always afraid of alliances among his women.
From
"That's Who I Am" recorded by Neko Case, written by John Mellencamp
From "Ghostbrothers of Darkland Country"
http://www.mellencamp.com/discography.html?dd_id=46
He came up on her from behind. "Woooowie!!" He whistled and greeted her like she was Marilyn. She felt that way. Not seeing him for a few years was good for her, but she worked hard on polishing herself up, just in case.
She was wearing her traditional black, but this dress was especially shapely on her. It made her feel like the differences between her and the people actually in the spotlight were not that big. She was freely allowed onstage, was an important person backstage, greeted warmly by everyone. She even got up to the mike, to check it for sound. She just wasn't the one the audience wanted. It was this, the "passing" that she loved. If your friends are glittery enough, then it rubs off on you. She was infamous for being the one with the most biting remarks at the after-parties. Her wits got her by, even if her looks weren't always fully up to snuff.
Her skin was freshly tanned and delicious, his fingers seemed to be tasting chocolate for the first time as they brushed against her arm. He turned his smile on full throttle as he beamed in her direction.
Even though his girlfriend was standing next to him, burning a hole through the floor.
She quickly introduced herself to the girlfriend, twisting the knife by ignoring him just enough. He hated being deflected, hated when his charms failed. But he had the instincts of a shark and kept moving to a fresh flock across the room, where he knew he'd be eagerly devoured.
"I love how boys are puppies around pretty girls", she said as they watched him begin to flirt at the cheese table. There were several teenage girls who had piled their hair on top of their heads as if the gym look were suitable for dress-up events. They had no idea who he was, only a vague sense of who he thought he was. They didn't even care enough to watch the concert, daughters of the venue who helped to sell popcorn during the summers. He began to fumble with his plate when she and her skinny body slumped away from him, leaving him off center enough to knock his cheese onto the carpet.
"Yeah, it must be fun to egg them on, when you are pretty. When you are cruel." His girlfriend was a plain jane, which meant a few things. Obviously, she was eager to return to being a wallflower, and the one who would help him with all the details, from making sure he had water onstage to keeping his guitar case stocked with condoms. "To store the mic", he said. It was an old technique from the sixties, to keep the dust off when they were packed away. The cruelest Sound Guys spent performances taking a safety pin to their supply- hoping to reward any thieves with a surprise Fatherhood. The girlfriend did not look like the type who would poke holes in any of his condoms, even as a warning.
He was just one of many celebrities, singers, has beens and wannabes that were on the schedule. But he was playing his part valiantly, moving on to the next victim, who was turned to stone as soon as he spoke to her. The other end of the spectrum, no wonder famous people go crazy.
"This is me in costume. I'd never been pretty until last year. At least now I'm trying. My hair, my outfit. I'm the shy one, but I'm good at pretending. He's the one who was pretty when he was young, and now fame still sticks to him. And he's kept looking good, different, but good."
"He's got a dark side, though," the girlfriend surprised her by claiming his troubles, agreeing to them publicly. She wouldn't even have to dig to find out how mean he was these days.
"I know. I worked for him for a few years. At the radio station. He'd put me on the air when he couldn't make it through a whole show,"
"So you are HER?" The girlfriend sized her up in a full frontal approach. More questioning than attacking. Both looked at a reflection of themselves. They were not the pretty birds of prey. They were attractive for their qualities of working hard, of persistence. And they both knew that he glittered like gold to all the other girls. Surface attracts surface. The pretty ones would scatter in the morning, if he hadn't kicked them out the night before. Guys like him didn't have friends or girlfriends, so much as he had "handlers". People who had to "handle" everything. They recognized this in each other quickly.
The show ran fine, without much incident after that. Except one thing.
He pulled her up onstage for the finale. Had the audience clap for her, even though she wasn't the main organizer. But he kept holding onto her arm and had her sing on one of the 5 shared mics. Nobody could hear her, even if she was good or bad, it didn't matter. He knew she'd like it, and he made her remember that she sang.
Besides, he was always afraid of alliances among his women.
From
"That's Who I Am" recorded by Neko Case, written by John Mellencamp
From "Ghostbrothers of Darkland Country"
http://www.mellencamp.com/discography.html?dd_id=46
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