The Fanbase
Gabriel
White
“Miss Parker?” the man knocking
on the door said. “Miss Parker are you ready to go out?”
She glanced
at her watch, the blood had slid down her arm and covered the glass. 9:15pm. I
guess I should have been out there thirty minutes ago.
“Give me one
more minute, let me wash my hands.” She called back in a cool voice. She walked
toward the sink and turned the water on. The deep cut on her hand looked terrible,
she probably shouldn’t have squeezed the bottle so hard. As the water ran over
her hands she looked up at herself in the mirror. She looked cadaverous and
defeated even with the heavy makeup piled on. She looked down at the cut, it was
still bleeding but if she kept her fist clenched people wouldn’t notice and by
the time they did it would be too late.
As she
headed towards the door, she grabbed her purse which she had recently began
using in her shows. Parker opened the door and stepped out into the hall.
“All ready?”
he asked apprehensively.
“As ready as
I’ll ever be.” She replied in the same cool voice.
“Alright,
the tunnel is this way.”
The two
walked in silence until the man spoke up. “I’m not really allowed to say this
but I just love your music. Especially your early work before, well…” his
voice trailed off but she knew exactly
what he was talking about.
The
sudden crash woke her up. Her pulse quickened, what was that? Kelly Parker sat
up in bed, her ears straining to catch any sound it could.
“I told your
dumbass to keep it down.” A man said, his voice full of rage.
“What’s the
difference? The broad is at her fancy music awards show anyway, there is no one
here.” His partner retorted.
“That doesn’t mean her neighbors
aren’t home. Let’s make this quick, you know what happens to people who break
into celebrities’ homes.”
Her eyes filled with fear, she
knew she shouldn’t have stayed home tonight. She should have just gone and got
her stupid award, instead she’s afraid for her life. She crept to her feet and
grabbed her phone. She quickly called the police.
“Help me! Some men just broke
into my home, I’m really scared.”
“Okay ma’am just try to remain
calm. Do you know if they are armed?” The dispatcher asked calmly.
“I’m not sure.”
“Okay, we have a car on the way
now, just lock your bedroom door and do not leave or try to provoke the men.”
I can’t just let them steal my stuff;
I’ve got to stop them she thought to herself. She hung up on the dispatcher and
opened the bedroom door. As she looked out into the hallway she thought if I
can just make it to my office, I can get my gun.
She realized the voices stopped
and the house was deathly quiet. Where did they—was all she was able to think
before the bullet ripped through her stomach.
“I’m really sorry.” The man
said. “I shouldn’t have even brought it up.”
“No, its alright, I am at peace
with it. I’m just glad they got caught, besides I think the accident helped me
write my best work.”
“Yeah, you released My
Thoughts a couple months after, right? I always liked that one, it’s a
shame it wasn’t as well received.”
She felt her jaw clench as her
blood began to boil, she didn’t need reminded.
“Wasn’t your comeback concert
featuring that album like one of the most anticipated concerts ever? Like, I’m
talking Elvis and the Beatles level excitement?”
“Yes.” She replied shortly, her
anger rising as she remembered how disastrous that concert turned out to be and
the months of solitude she spent after it. She clenched her fist, her nails
digging into the jagged cut on her palm, as she remember how hard it was for
her to write that damn album in the first place.
“AHHHH!!!!” Parker screamed as
she threw the nearly completed manuscript into the trash. With a wince of pain
she sat down, her hand caressed the bandages on her stomach. The bullet wound
had yet to fully heal.
“Stupid, so stupid.” She
muttered to herself. Why was is so hard now? Before the attack the music just
seemed to flow through her but ever since it just stopped. It’s like my passion
is gone, she thought. All of my previous work so trivial, so fake.
Almost like it never had a meaning, just stupid songs about ex-boyfriends that
never had a real message.
The tears
began to stream from her eyes as her grief overtook her, the fans demanded more
music and I just can’t make it for them. Has my whole career just been a hollow
lie she wondered?
“I can’t let
them down.” She said, even if it was a lie she had people counting on her… “But
what can I do if the music just isn’t there?”
She sat
staring at the paper, then she picked up the pen. The thought hit her out of
nowhere. A darker, slower album that expressed not only her brush with death
but also my newfound joy for being alive.
She started
to write.
“Well, let’s just say not
everyone understands greatness.” Parker said bitterly.
“That’s the truth, well just for
the record I thought it was a good album.” He replied. “But I have to ask, why
didn’t you keep writing music like that? I mean, I know it wasn’t well received
but if it’s what you want to write, why go back?”
“It was my producer.” She said,
only half lying.
“He didn’t want you to keep
writing that music?”
“It was a big fight and
eventually the studio won.” She sighed, her anger only mounting as she
remembered his sneering face.
“Well, face it Kelly, the album
sucked! Even your most devoted fans are saying #BringBackTheOldKelly. If you
continue to write that style of music, it would be nothing more than career
suicide and to be honest neither me nor the studio are going to be with you if
you do that.”
She gave a small smile, suicide was
a funny word to use there.
“So now here I am, the studio
won, and I had to go back to the old Kelly. All for the sake of my career as
they put it.”
“I hate that for you. That and
all of the backlash and threats from the fans was more than many people could
handle, I imagine. I’m just happy to see you back on tour again, not many
people have the strength to do that.”
The two walked in silence as the
sound of the nearly 70,000 sold out crowd grew louder and louder. She winced at
the thought of performing to them, the screaming and crying fans who had turned
their back on her when she needed them most. The same ones who gave her death
threats are the same ones holding signs saying I love you, it’s disgusting.
“Alright, Miss Parker, the
tunnel leading to the entrance is right here. I’m going to go and instruct our
tech guy to hit the lights and then you’ll be clear to make your entrance. Knock
‘em dead.”
Kelly gave a small hollow laugh
as the man hurried away. Her wound-free hand crept into her bag and brushed
aside the strategically placed autographed photos and gripped the cool steel of
the pistol hidden beneath. She had almost been afraid it would have been
spotted by security but then again, who checks the superstar’s bag?
As her hand ran up and down the
cool metal of the gun the thought occurred to her; herself or the audience? Why
not both?
Her straight face contorted into
a villainous smile, yes both would do just nicely. Give these people something
to really enjoy.
She took one
last breath and looked out into the stadium. She twisted her face into the best
award-winning smile she could muster and walked out onto the stage, ready to
give a performance no one would forget.
