Dating an Alien Pop Star

by Kendra L. Saunders

  We arrive at the venue in the morning, around ten, and we’re whisked inside by several intimidating men and a talkative, middle-aged woman wearing a headset. Griffin’s treated like royalty in residence, and we’re led directly to Kammie and Devon. Dev’s in good spirits, all self-satisfied smugness and smiles as he greets us with coffee and cheerful banter. I catch one look at Kammie’s slightly rumpled hair and have a good idea of why Devon never returned to our suite last night.

  Almost immediately, Devon pulls Griffin aside to speak to him in hushed tones. Judging by the way Griffin slings his arm around Devon’s shoulders and leans into him, the two of them aren’t used to being apart for very long.

  “Lillian Gale will be here later,” Kammie says. “And Frog Snout’s here already. I think they’re having a third smoke break. They’re a bit nervous.”

  My eyes stray to Griffin, Devon, and their circle of bodyguards. “You think we can really pull this off?”

  Kammie pats at her messy hair and shrugs. “I should hope so, considering the boys need to get back to their planet in two days. On the other hand, a part of me hopes they’ll just decide to stay here.”

  I turn to look at her, dropping my voice to a whisper. “You… he told you…?”

  “Well, of course he told me! And showed me some pictures, too.” Kammie shoots me a pointed look. “Honestly, Daisy, you, of all people, should know I’m very careful about the people I associate with.”

  Now I struggle with laughter. “You? Careful of who you associate with? Have you met Frog Snout?”

  “Alright, well, I’m very particular about the people I go on dates with. Devon’s wonderful, but I wanted to get to know him a bit better before I made any firm decisions on him.” Kammie lets out a little sigh, and then quietly says, “I’m not sure I could ever go back to dating anyone that isn’t from his planet. He’s so polite, well spoken, and knowledgeable. He actually likes to treat a woman right. And cuddle. That alone makes him a superior being.”

  She has a point, but it’s not going to do either of us much good. Griffin’s mission is too important to him; he won’t change his mind about leaving, even in the face of really great cuddling sessions.

  A few hours of set up and rehearsals later, Griffin’s bouncing around on the stage like he owns it, showering all of us with ridiculous guitar riffs and delighted laughter. Frog Snout behaves quite amiably, and not even one member of the band mentions anything about aliens. Apparently, Griffin’s finger-snapping persuasion has left them with a lot less questions.

  Lillian Gale arrives late, as might be expected. In person, she’s even taller and more striking than I’d imagined. She’s always been a legendary figure in my mind—the leader of Juicy Bed, a songwriter and queen among the male-dominated music field of her time. She’s mythical, although not as outwardly eccentric as Bjork, and she’s powerful, though not in the snarly manner of Kim Gordon. Standing in front of her, even briefly, is enough to make me almost dizzy with excitement, but she’s surprisingly unfussy and swoops in to kiss Kammie on the cheek in greeting.

  “Now, now, who do we have here?” she asks as Griffin approaches her. She sounds considerably younger than a woman in her late thirties should. Her orange hair has been pulled neatly back into a braid, but nothing else on her is tidy. She’s a tangle of sumptuous fabrics and jangling gold bracelets, and her eyes wander almost as much as her hands float through the air as she speaks. She circles Griffin a few times, and then nods as if she’s made a very important decision. “Yes, I’m glad I’ve lent you a hand. You don’t belong around here, and we must always treat our visitors well. Always, always, if we want to keep it all spinning the way it should, in this big universe.”

  It might be my imagination, but I could swear that Griffin blushes a little. He smiles shyly up at Lillian when she grasps one of his pale hands between both of hers, and he’s quick to answer all of her questions.

  I can’t help wondering if Kammie told Lillian that the boys are from another world, but I don’t dare bring it up.

  “Thank you for your help,” Griffin says, half-bowing to Lillian, and then motioning for Dev. As soon as his friend is close enough, Griffin pulls him in tight against his side. “This is my best mate, Devon London.”

  “Have you been to England yet?” Lillian asks, confirming my suspicion that she knows. Oh well. At least she got us the gig. “You simply have to go during your visit. I’m from England, you know, or part of me is. Sometimes, I think I’m actually from something a bit less… physical than that, you know? Might be from the darkness or the light or a beautiful lake somewhere.”

  Griffin’s confused smile kind of makes me want to hug him, but then he and Lillian walk away from the rest of us, talking about the song she’ll perform with him. I take this opportunity to all but pounce on Devon.

  “Have you heard anything new from back home?” I demand as quietly as I can manage.

  “No, Griffin’s father hasn’t sent any correspondence.” Devon glances in Griffin’s direction. “Knowing him, he expects to win the wager and won’t bother contacting us again.”

  “Did you tell him that there might be someone else from your planet here?”

  Devon hesitates in his answer. “Daisy, you see… Griff and his father have a very difficult relationship. I’m not sure that telling him that would be good for the situation.”

  “You mean, he wouldn’t send help if you needed it?”

  “Help? It would be his idea of a hard lesson, if anything. He never wanted us to come here.”

  Griffin and Lillian practice their song together, and the music fangirl in me does cartwheels to witness something like this, especially from the side of the stage, but when it’s over and Griffin’s bouncing back toward us, I can’t help returning my attention to Devon.

  “There were a lot of reporters outside our hotel last night. We managed to slip out this morning without anyone seeing us, but our hotel location has definitely been compromised,” I say, and I can almost feel Devon’s worry trickle back into his mind. He pulls away from me and propels himself toward Griffin, catching him up in a congratulatory hug and then whispering in his ear.

  I almost lose contact with them for the rest of the afternoon, because Griffin’s got a million things to go over and a billion reasons he needs this whole thing to work out. Eventually, I feel so awkward and unsure of my place in the fray that I step outside to the designated smoking area and suck in a few deep, second-hand-smoke-laced breaths.

  A quick look at my cell phone reveals I’ve missed a few calls from home and two from my day job. What must they think of me now? I’ve all but disappeared from my life, whisked off into a world of expensive clothes and interplanetary intrigue. And what will happen in a couple of days? Succeed or fail, Griffin and Devon will return home. I’ll end up unemployed… and possibly homeless. It wouldn’t be horribly surprising if the roommates decided my absence was a good excuse to throw my stuff into the street and rent my room to someone else.

  All at once, I imagine asking Griffin to take me with him. Would he be able to? Would he want to? Maybe he’d say that there wasn’t enough room in their spaceship or pods or whatever it is they used to get here. Maybe he’d tell me that his planet would kill me. And if he loses the bet, maybe he’d say no on the grounds that, technically, he’s betrothed to someone else, however horrible she happens to be.

  But I can ask.

  With a renewed sense of confidence, I hurry back inside and allow myself to be caught up in the head-spinning circus that is concert prep.

  Half an hour before the concert’s set to start, the venue is already packed. I hear a lot of murmured amazement on the part of the staff, especially since Griffin is such a “new sensation.” Griffin’s escorted about like the prince he is, offered water bottles, and asked a lot of questions about his career. He’s wise enough to keep tight-lipped on the matter, though, and in place of telling them anything, he just smiles at everyone in a rather sneaky manner.

/>   Someone takes a lot of photos of Griffin and Lillian together, and Griffin tugs Devon into the pictures with him, pulled tight against his side. The two of them grin like kids on Christmas, but then Griffin looks to his left and right, his smile falling away.

  “Where’s Daisy?” he demands, his brow furrowed. “Someone find Daisy, would you? She should be here.”

  I step out of the shadowy safe spot where I’ve been hiding and wave to Griffin. His face lights up again and he motions for me, completely insistent until I’m close enough that he can press a quick kiss to my cheek and show me off to the cameras. Dev holds his hand out for Kammie, who takes it and steps onto the white backdrop with us, and suddenly, we’re all part of some strange, beautiful photoshoot.

  Just before the concert, Griffin finally starts to show a little nerves. He paces back and forth, a short distance each time, his pointed features cast with shadows. Someone announces that stage time is two minutes, and Griffin fiddles with his guitar a bit, muttering to himself.

  “You’re gonna be great,” I say, and he captures my hand a bit too tightly. His fingers feel colder than usual. “You okay?”

  “She always told me to never give up.”

  “Who…? Your mom?”

  Griffin nods.

  “Well, I’m sure she’d be really proud of you right now,” I say. “Go out there and show everyone in the universe who you really are. This time, they’ll all see the truth. I know they will.”

  I can feel the air around Griffin warm up, as if the chill has been melted away from him. He leans in to catch my face between his hands for a kiss. Even with his guitar hanging from its strap between us, I pull him as close as I can and drink him in. With one last gentle ruffle of his hair, I let him go and step back.

  “Twenty seconds!”

  Griffin and Frog Snout walk together toward the ramp that will lead them up to the stage. From the angle I’m standing, the ramp looks eerily a bit too much like it might lead into a bright spaceship in some cheesy science fiction movie. When Griffin steps onto it and turns one last time to smile at me, silhouetted against blinding lights, I have to struggle to just wave goodbye to him and not chase him up it.

  I’ve never felt more left out than in this moment, especially when I hear a roar of cheers and screams from the crowd gathered out there.

  “He’ll be back,” Dev whispers from beside me. When I don’t say anything, he drops his hand to my shoulder. “Thank you, Daisy. None of this would have been possible without you.”

  I shrug a little, struggling with something that feels suspiciously like tears. How tired am I? How overwrought and exhausted am I really, after all of this? “It’s no trouble,” I say, but then I can hear the tears, gathering in the back of my throat.

  “Thank you for being so good to Griff. He’s not one to let many people in, but when he does, there’s no letting go. He really cares for you.” Dev quietly sighs. “I’m glad we found you. And I’m… eternally grateful that you stuck around even when we hadn’t done anything to deserve it.”

  My eyes remain on the ramp a little longer, but then my vision blurs from tears. I struggle for a few seconds, because it’s stupid to feel this way, but then Dev pulls me into a gentle hug.

  “Wanna go up there?” he whispers.

  “On stage, you mean?”

  “Yeah, wanna go up? I think we should be up there with him.”

  “Yes!” I say, and he laughs. “Of course I want to. Can we do that?”

  Dev wiggles his eyebrows at me. “According to everyone here, I’m his manager and you’re his girlfriend, so I don’t see why not, right? Besides, Griff’s guards are going to panic if they’re not up there.” With that, Dev reaches for Kammie’s hand and leads us up to the side of the stage.

  All of that overwhelming emotion remains and just seems to grow when I’m finally standing off to the side of the stage, watching something I helped orchestrate. There’s a sense of pride, of course, but also a sense of loss; we’ve finally achieved this moment and time marches on, closer and closer to the end of our adventures together.

  Kammie elbows me gently, smiling. She raises her hands and claps along to the song, so I join her, clapping, swaying, and finally, smiling. I peer out at the crowd, and I sweat under the bright lights; a longtime dream fulfilled in the strangest way. Eventually, I even find myself laughing as Griffin attempts some banter between songs.

  I’ll have to coach him on that, later.

  Lillian joins him on stage, near the end of the set, and she twirls around him like a green-and-blue impressionist painting. Her dress trails out behind her, and she throws some glitter dust on the people in the front row, on herself, and then on Griffin. I catch his slight wince as she tosses the remnants of her glitter bag over his head, but then he seems to realize there’s no danger. He becomes a sparkly, grinning mess, coaxing the crowd into loud cheers for Lillian.

  “Good night, people of Earth!” Griffin shouts, his voice amplified throughout the venue without need of a microphone. “Thank you for your love! Here is my love for you in return.” He holds his arms open to them, letting out a delighted laugh at the screaming response he gets. “Please be good to each other, and try not to believe the evil of… of someone else. Find the good in them whenever you can.” He moves so he can stand directly in front of one of the cameras and holds his hands up in the symbol of the Origin Collective.

  After a bit of searching, I locate my phone in the deep recesses of my purse, and though it means taking my eyes off the scene before me for a few precious seconds, I snap as many pictures as I can. The last one is Griffin offering a sweeping bow to his adoring audience, and I email it to myself immediately, just in case. No use taking a chance with a moment like that.

  Griffin and Lillian walk toward us at last, both of them sweaty and laughing, and then Frog Snout offers their own shaky, dumbfounded bow to the audience. As they exit the stage, I can hear Bill say, “So that’s what it’s like to play for an audience!”

  “That was bloody amazing, Griff!” Dev says, pulling his friend into a backslapping hug that sends a bit of glitter floating into the air around them. “You were incredible; I’m so proud of you.”

  “We were all good,” Griffin says between heavy breaths. His cheeks are pink with exertion, and his eyes blaze with blue electricity. The air around him crackles a little with warm, pleasant energy as he looks from Dev to Kammie, Lillian, Frog Snout, and then to me. “Great job out there, mates.”

  “A real audience,” Bill says, shaking his head. “It’s different than we expected.”

  “Yeah, louder!” another member of Frog Snout says. I never learned his name, but tonight, he smells even more like cheese than usual. “It’s much louder.”

  “For all your hard work…” Griffin pats Dev’s butt a couple of times with a mischievous look on his face as he removes his friend’s wallet. The stack of money he hands Bill sends a lot of happy exclamations throughout Frog Snout.

  Bill clears his throat. “Will you be, err, offended if we say that perhaps we’re retiring from music? Tonight was basically the apex of our career,” he says, and his band members nod. “I’ve always wanted to paint houses. I think Andy here wants to be a scuba dive instructor. And besides, this is enough bread to buy us food and medicinal magical plants for a long time.” He pauses. “Hey, you don’t mind if we go hit the catering table, do you?”

  Griffin offers them a little bow. “Good luck, my friends, with everything. I will never forget you.”

  A few sloppy hugs are exchanged, and then Frog Snout leaves us, talking happily among themselves about their plans for the next few days.

  Lillian kisses Devon on the cheek, and then holds Griffin’s hands for a few seconds, as if saying a prayer over him. “Be brave, Griffin Valentino, be very brave,” she says. “And keep an eye on what’s closest to you.”

  With that, Lillian leaves us. Griffin leans close to Dev, speaking to him quietly. I’m about to say my own congratulatio
ns to Griffin when a man wearing a headset approaches and motions me closer so he can tell me something.

  “You might want to see what’s happening on TMZ,” he says in an undertone. “And think about getting someone to kill it, quick.”

  “Why, what’s happening?”

  He gives me a serious look, so I fish my phone back out and type Griffin’s name into a search engine with shaking fingers.

  The first link that comes up has the headline Rowdy Rock Star Gets in Fight and Makes Racist Comments. The preview for the link ponders Might recently famous Griffin Valentino be on drugs? Another link calls him violent, and still another comments that he’s still got a rabid audience despite his ‘serious’ faults. All of them are hooked up with a video clip from last night outside the hotel, when Griffin answered the ‘monkey’ question.

  “The video went up about two hours ago. They must have wanted to time it with the concert, to get the most attention,” the man says, and I feel like I can’t even speak. I’d known that Griffin would get backlash for his remarks, but I hadn’t realized how ugly it would actually look once it happened.

  “He didn’t mean to say that,” I splutter at last. “He didn’t understand what they were asking.”

  “Look, I’m just saying… you need to do something about it fast before it gets out of control.”

  I glance at Griffin, who’s still busily talking with Dev. “How?”

  The man shrugs. “Say he was sick, or he’d had too much to drink. Don’t blame it on drugs, though. That’ll make it worse.”

  My legs feel weak as I scroll through links to gossipy websites around the Internet. They’re calling him racist, and someone’s uploaded a video of Griffin and Dev’s fistfight from the other day. Several of the links refer to him as bisexual and inquire if he’s hurting the gay cause by beating his boyfriend. One link is from a blogger who claims he snorted coke with Griffin in a bathroom stall. Ugh.

  Even though I don’t want to, I pull Twitter up to see if anyone’s tweeting Griffin about the videos. Sure enough, mixed in with adoring tweets about the concert, I see people calling him awful names because of his comments last night.

  One social justice blogger has tweeted Griffin, “We don’t need racist, violent cis white men speaking for the gay cause! There, I said it!”

  “What’s wrong, Daisy?” Griffin says, and I nearly drop my phone in my rush to keep him from seeing the tweets. He pulls me into a tight hug. “Are you alright?”

  “Y-yeah…” Oh, I can’t tell him. I can’t! It’ll break his heart. “It’s nothing.”

  He presses a kiss to my lips. “Yes, it is. You looked really sad.”

  “I’m just… you know, fried. It’s been a long day, and we didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”

  Griffin’s eyes narrow a little, and I try to avoid his gaze. “You’re lying, Daisy. What’s going on?”

  Another man wearing a headset approaches us, holding a phone out to Griffin. “It’s for you, Mr. Valentino,” he says. “It’s urgent.”

  Griffin takes the phone and presses it to his ear. His facial expression changes quickly from confusion to elation. “Alright, yes, when? When? Yes, hold on, please.” He turns to Dev, wildly motioning him closer. “Here, please tell Devon everything you’ve just told me. We’ll meet you there immediately. Or, well, the very moment we can get there. Yes, thank you so much, yes, yes. Yes, here’s Devon.” He hands the phone off to Devon and turns back to me, shaking all over with excitement. “We’re going to England, Daisy! The Origin Collective has invited me to meet with them!”