I'm with the Band
Page 5
“What did I do? Why are you mad at me?” I asked, taking a step back in case he tried to hit me.
John shouted, “Why don’t you just go ahead and take over, huh? Sing all the songs solo!” He looked off for a moment then came back full force. “Dickweed in there loves you. He hates us! All he did was piss and moan about us.”
I shouted back, “It’s not my fault you guys sucked today!”
John yelled, “You’re just supposed to be eye candy! You’re only here because of us!”
Acid in my voice, I shouted back, “No, John. You are only here because of me! I’m the one the studio saw in the video tape. It was my voice they wanted. My image. Me!”
John jabbed a finger at me and shouted, “Bullshit, man, bullshit! It’s my band, my sound that got us here. Shit, you’re not even a real fucking girl. I can’t believe you’re letting this go to your head!”
Before I could answer, Mom yelled from behind me, “Stop it you two! Stop this instant!”
Mom was suddenly between both of us, taking hold of an arm on each of us. In a quieter voice, Mom said, “Stop this fighting now. You’re embarrassing me and making fools out of yourselves.”
“Mom,” John whined. “Mike is trying to show us up. He…”
Interrupting, Mom said, “Michelle is doing no such thing. She just performed better, that’s all. John, I don’t know what your and the guys’ problem is today, but you’d better get over it. We’ll be here to dawn tomorrow if we have to, to get these two songs done. After a short break, Mr. Johnson is going to get you guys to try again. Let’s don’t blow it this time, okay?”
John started to say something, thought better of it and just nodded.
Mom relaxed a bit and said to John, “Not to take anything away from Michelle, but she did have it a little easier than you guys. She just had to sing the one song. She didn’t have to play an instrument and keep together with three other people. She’s not getting special treatment from Mr. Johnson.”
I just stood there a moment and watched John head back into the studio and Mom return to the control booth. As my anger subsided, I felt tears start to well up. I fought them back. I couldn’t understand John’s anger at me. I thought he’d be happy about me doing so well.
I wandered back through the recording studio and found the reception area at the entrance. The receptionist looked up at me and said, “Hey sweetie. Do you need something?”
I shook my head and said, “Is it okay for me to sit out here for a while and read a magazine or something?”
The pretty receptionist smiled and said, “Sure hon, knock yourself out”
I sat down and picked up a magazine and pretended to read it. I looked at the pages without seeing anything. I was lost in thought. I closed my eyes and thought maybe I should quit the band if John was going to act like this every time I sang better. Maybe it just wasn’t worth it.
The magazine slid from my fingers to the floor, but I didn’t notice. Without warning, I suddenly drifted into sleep.
* * *
Chapter 4
Wednesday morning went a lot smoother. I had my make-up on before the guys finally tumbled out of bed. We coordinated our bathroom times better and everyone seemed less tense. Now that they knew what to expect, a lot of the cockiness had left the group. Except for John. I think he was born with attitude.
The van to pick us up was already waiting when we hit the lobby. There was a car parked behind the van and it flashed its lights as we approached. I looked over at it, and while it was too dark to see a face, I could tell it was a girl behind the wheel. She motioned for me to approach her.
I hesitated since for all I knew it was some weirdo in the car. The passenger side window slid down and a familiar voice said, “Michelle! Get your butt over here!”It was Brooklyn Farrell. I hurried over to the opened window and stuck my head in.
“Hi, Ms. Farrell. What are you doing here?” I asked.
She smiled and said, “You can call me Brook. Now get in; we have a lot to do this morning.”
“Ms… Brook, I can’t go with you. We have to get to the studio.”
“They do,” Brook said, pointing at the van. “You don’t. You have a photo shoot at ten this morning to get ready for.”
“We all do. It’s our publicity photos. But we were going to try to lay down a voice track on our third song this morning,”I said.
“That’s why you need to get ready! Now get in the car!” said Brook, looking flustered.
Puzzled, I asked, pointing at the van, “Shouldn’t they get ready too?”
Brook dismissed the question with a wave of her hand. “Nah, they’re guys. Will you get in now?”
I gave up and said, “Well, let me tell my Mo… manager that I’m going with you.” Brook nodded.
I walked over to the open van door. John said, “Well, Twinkle Toes, did you finally decide to join us?”
I shook my head and addressed Mom instead of John. “Mom, Brooklyn Farrell is here to get me ready for the photo shoot this morning. I won’t be going with you to the studio.”
First she looked surprised, and then Mom smiled and said, “That’s fine, dear. I didn’t think about it, but you probably should have another make-over. Have fun and we’ll see you later this morning.”
John, looking indignant shouted, “What?! More special treatment? What’s the big fucking deal?”
Mom grabbed John’s ear and pulled, and he let out a yelp. “I guess it’s long past time to wash that mouth of yours out with soap! Michelle wants to look her best for the photo session.”
“Aahh! Christ, Mom. I’m eighteen! Stop pulling my ear. Aahh!”Mom pulled his ear again.
Frowning, Mom said, “Are you going to stop?”
Fritz said, “What about us? Shouldn’t we get ready for the photo shoot, too?”
Mom shrugged and said, “You’re guys.”
* * *
As we sped away in Brook’s car, she said, “I know this great place where we can get some breakfast. Then, we head back to the salon. I know you loved getting a make-over last time. You positively glowed afterward.”
“I did?” I really don’t remember enjoying it, except for the attention, I thought.
She just nodded and said, pointing to the back seat of her car, “And I bought you a couple of new outfits for the photo session.”
Frowning I asked, “More clothes? Don’t I have enough already?”
Brooklyn gave me a ‘What? Are you kidding?’ expression, “There’s no such thing!”
* * *
The events at the salon were pretty much the same. And while I know they’re told to act that way, it still gave me a boost to hear them say just how absolutely thrilled they were that I had returned. I thought, no wonder celebrities are so full of themselves — there’s a whole industry devoted to stroking their egos.
I lay in the chair with some strange goop covering my face and some form of vegetable matter on my eyes and someone tugging at my hands. I knew Brooklyn was close by. I said, “Brook? Can I ask you a question?”
I heard her take a few steps to stand next to me. “Sure. Like what?”
“Doesn’t it bother you that here you are, helping other people become rich and famous while you’re neither?” I asked.
She let out a short laugh then said, “Well, for starters, I don’t want to be famous. I don’t want the hassle. You’ll find out soon what I mean. As for being rich? Well, I’m… let’s just say I’m very comfortable. I’m good at what I do and I charge a lot for it. I have access to celebs that most people don’t. I’m invited to most of the same parties; I’m invited to their homes for private consulting. They even come to my house. No, I like my arrangement just fine. I get to hobnob with the rich and famous and get paid well for it.”
I didn’t say anything and after a moment she continued, “I can’t sing and I can’t act,
but I do know what clothes look good on someone and what doesn’t.”
* * *
Brooklyn parked her car in the studio parking lot. I opened the door and just sat there a moment, not sure how to get out of the car. I had changed clothes at the salon and was now wearing a short, black denim skirt, a black tank top (that covered enough to disguise the fact that I didn’t have any cleavage) and high heeled boots. I was also wearing these really oversized hoop earrings, and my hair now loosely covered one eye.
I looked at my hands while I pondered how to get out of the car without exposing my panties to the whole world. I guess they glued something on the end of my fingernails since they were now longer than they were this morning.
I looked around and didn’t see anyone who might take a peek so I just climbed out. I’m going to have to ask Mom what is the best way to get in and out of a car while wearing a skirt. I reached into the back seat and retrieved my (yet another new) purse and a light jacket.
Apparently the guys were just wrapping up their session before breaking for the photo shoot. I could hear Mr. Johnson saying, “Good work guys. That was a thousand times better than yesterday. If we put in another couple of long days, I think we can get this album finished.”
Brooklyn and I walked into the studio, and all eyes turned toward us. Brooklyn is a beautiful woman, and I guessed the guys were all turning to ogle at her.
Until Fritz said, “Holy shit! Michelle? I think I’m in love!”
Smiling, Sammy said, “You look great, Michelle! I mean really, really great.”
I felt my cheeks start to flush, and I looked over at Brook for some help. She just smiled broadly.
Mr. Winters said, “Brook, you did good.” He gave her a thumbs up gesture.
Mom walked up to me and exclaimed, “Oh my! Michelle, you are simply gorgeous!”
My cheeks felt hot as I said, “Come on, guys. Stop it! Quit talking crazy! I’m just me.”
I looked around the room, and every guy was staring at me, and I was very glad I couldn’t read minds right then. I could read their expressions though, and I started to feel sick. I didn’t know what to think. All at once I was revolted by the obvious lust in the faces of all the guys staring at me, and at the same time, I found myself excited at the attention and satisfaction at suddenly becoming the focal point of the room.
Mr. Winters released me from their attention by saying, “All right guys. The van is out behind the studio. Let’s get in and get these publicity photos out of the way so we can get back to working on the album.” He whispered something to Brooklyn, and then she waved to me and left.
As everyone started to file out to the rear of the studio, I pulled Mom to one side and said, “Mom, that was really weird. Everyone was staring at me!”
Mom looked me up and down and smiled before answering, “You’re beautiful, Michelle. Guys are going to react to that. Even as a boy I thought you were pretty… like I said, you look like me when I was a teenager.”
Feeling somewhat shocked, I said, “Mom! Don’t talk like that! It makes me uncomfortable to hear my own mother call me ‘beautiful’.”
Mom shrugged and said, “You better figure out a way to deal with it honey. Like it or not, you’re now presenting yourself to the world as a beautiful, young woman. You’re going to be treated differently. You’ll be much happier if you don’t resist being taken for a pretty girl and just enjoy the attention while it lasts.”
* * *
The van drove through what used to be a gate at what appeared to be an abandoned factory or something. The buildings looked as if they’d been unused for quite a few years. We stopped at what seemed to a rear entrance to one of the buildings. There were two police cars there along with a couple of cops watching us pull in.
Mr. Winters got out and walked over to the cops and started chatting with them. As I was getting out of the van, a third cop exited the building. He called out to the other police officers. “It’s clear. These buildings are harder to get inside than they look.”
Mr. Winters said, “Thank you, officers. This is a great location for photography, but it’s in a really rotten neighborhood.”
A burly cop with a mustache said, “You’re welcome, Mr. Winters. We’ll give you about an hour and then we’ll have to ask you to go. Personally, I don’t like this place. Too many places to hide.”
Mr. Winters nodded. “Hopefully, that should be enough time.”
We filed into the building. The photographer did a quick survey of the interior. There was a really large open area towards one end and at the other, there were all kinds of large, strange machines in various stages of disrepair. There was even an office that was several floors above that looked out across the factory floor. It was still mostly complete with chairs, desk and filing cabinets.
“Try not to touch anything, chica,” scolded the photographer. I kept brushing up against stuff, smearing dirt all over my black skirt and top and we’d have to stop while we brushed it off.
We used every last second of the hour and a half the police officers let us have. I don’t think there was one square inch of the building that we didn’t pose in. I was definitely ready to leave.
The burly cop approached Hal and said, “Okay, Mr. Winters, that’s about all the time we can spare for escort. We need to get back to our regular duty.”
Fritz said, “Thank God! I want to get back to the studio.”
We all piled into the van and the buildings were abandoned once again.
When we arrived at the studio, everyone started to exit the van. As I started to get out, Mr. Winters blocked my way. “You don’t get to come back to the studio with us, Michelle. The driver will take you back to your hotel.” I started to protest and he cut me off, “Don’t change your clothes or wash your face. Just sit tight and Ms. Farrell and the photographer will be by to pick you up shortly.”
“More pictures?!” I exclaimed. “Come on, Mr. Winters. I really should be with the guys in the studio.”
Hal shook his head and said, “Nope, we won’t need you in the studio today. Just be a good girl and do what Brook tells you to do.”
* * *
I was a good girl and sat patiently in the hotel lobby for Brooklyn to arrive. I’m glad she didn’t keep me waiting too long. As it was, I waited almost half an hour.
“Hey girl!”she called pleasantly. “You ready?”
“Yeah, I guess so,” I grumbled.
Brooklyn frowned and sat down next to me. “Listen girlie. I’m a highly paid fashion consultant. Not some… some… nurse maid to a teenage girl.” Her hostility surprised me.
“I’m sorry!” I said. “This wasn’t my idea!”
Brooklyn’s expression softened. She forced a smile, “Sorry. This isn’t my usual gig, okay? Hal’s gonna owe me big time! Come on. Let’s go to your room and select a couple of outfits. Then we’re going to meet the photographer down at the mall.”
Brook picked out some clothes, and then, we got into her car, and we drove out to some mall. She surprised me by leading me first to the food court where she paid for my lunch. I thought she only ate at glamorous places.
After lunch, we met up with the photographer. He shot pictures of me in various poses and in various clothes all over the mall. He had more time this time, so he made me keep adjusting my pose until he got just the shot he wanted.
He spent three hours taking pictures and by the end, I was beat. The photographer told Brooklyn that the proofs would be delivered to Mr. Winters’ office in the morning.
There was a fountain in the mall, and I sat down hard on one of the benches circling the fountain. “Thank God that’s over!” I exclaimed. “I’m all posed out.”
Brooklyn sat next to me, “I hear ya, girl,”she said. She leaned forward and held her face in her hands, “but we’re not done yet.”
With disgust in my voice, I aske
d, “Not more pictures?”
Brook sat back up and flashed me a wry smile, “No, not more pictures. I know you’re tired, but I really think you’re going to love this.”
She scooted herself closer to me and continued, “The timing for this couldn’t have been better. You know who Tommy Kincaid is, right?”
I nodded. Tommy Kincaid was an up and coming movie star that had stolen the hearts of teen girls everywhere.
Brooklyn continued, “Well, it just so happens that Tommy is another one of Hal’s clients.” Her excitement started to grow as she talked. “You are not going to believe your luck, girl. Some movie moguls are throwing Tommy a birthday party at the Biltmore Hotel tonight. Everyone is going to be there.”
I shrugged, “Yeah. So?”
“Well, Tommy is having girl problems. Just a couple of days ago he broke up with his girlfriend. Hal approached Tommy with the idea of him escorting a new up and comer from his stable of stars. Hal showed Tommy some of the pictures we took Monday and he readily agreed.” Brook paused a moment.
“He showed Tommy Kincaid my picture?” I was horrified. “He didn’t tell me anything.”
Brooklyn looked at me with a puzzled expression, “I really thought you’d be thrilled. You have any idea how many girls would kill to have this opportunity?”
I wrinkled up my face in a frown and said, “Well, go get one of them!”
Throwing up her hands Brook exclaimed, “When I was a teenager and someone gave me a chance to attend a big Hollywood party with one of the hottest new stars, I would have been so excited I probably would have exploded.”
At that point it dawned on me. Brooklyn wasn’t aware that I wasn’t a real girl. Mr. Winters never told her. When we were shopping for clothes, I always changed in another room so she always just saw me dressed. I had assumed she was just playing along.
I said, “Sorry. It’s just so sudden and all. I’m not used to this celebrity thing.”
She smiled and said, “I can understand that. I probably should have eased you into the idea.”