After the performance in LA, the guys decided to get in some tourist action before performing again that evening. Of course they would be swarmed by fans wherever they went, but if I went with them, it would be difficult to move, let alone see the sights. So, instead, I told them I was gonna hang out at the hotel, get some rest, and once they were gone I slipped into the bathroom, washed off the make up covering my birthmark, took the fake hairs off of my eyebrows, put away the fake lip ring, took my wig off, and changed into of the few girl outfits I had brought along in my suitcase, just in case. I slipped out of the hotel, making sure no one noticed what room I came from, let alone what floor, and then I slipped out into the LA sun and sighed. Personally, I wasn’t really in the mood for sight-seeing, though I wasn’t really in the mood for taking a nap, either. I walked down the street for a little while until I found an easy-going looking restaurant. I walked in and strolled over to the bar. I slid onto a seat and let out a deep sigh, ordering a non-alcoholic Shirley Temple and leaning forward on the bar, running my hands through my long hair. The bar tender brought me my drink and I took a long swig and then closed my eyes as “Hello, Pain” came on over the speakers. Did it never end? The guy sitting next to me groaned and I turned to look at him, one eyebrow raised. “You don’t like this song?” I asked. He shook his head, “I hate it. It’s so catchy, you know, but the lyrics...” I furrowed my eyebrows, wondering what could be wrong with the lyrics Joel and Kevin had worked so hard on, “They’re just...so fake. Coming out of this guy’s mouth, at least. I feel like the guy’s never actually been in love with a girl before.” I couldn’t help but notice that he said, “with a girl”. I nodded slowly and took a sip of my drink, “Yea,” I said, “I guess you’re right.” The guy glanced at me from over his cup, “So what about you,” he asked, “You an Aepatt fan?” I wrinkled my nose, “Spoon, yea. Aepatt...no.” The guy chuckled, “So, you like the band, you just don’t like the lead singer.” I nodded, smiling slightly for the guy’s sake. He laughed, “Well. There you go.” I looked at him and said, “Well, I mean...maybe the back-up singer, the guy who actually wrote this song-”
“It wasn’t Aepatt?”
“No, the bassist and the backup singer wrote it. Anyway, I mean, maybe they actually have been...in love with a girl. But...they’re just having Aepatt do the singing for them.” The guy studied me now, his eyes narrowed slightly, and I felt like maybe I had said too much. He nodded, then, “Yea, that makes sense. So that’s why you don’t like Aepatt? ‘Cause he’s just the face and the voice, while the other Spoons are the emotions and the real music?” I nodded, “Yea,” I said, “Aepatt is nothing but a fake.” And it was, so much more true than this guy would ever know. The guy looked away from me, into his cup, and said, “Seems like you’re very passionate about that.” I laughed, “Well. I have a lot of free time.” I grinned tightly at him, “Too much time to dwell on things like that, you know?” He laughed, “Ah, to be young and free.” I smiled and shook my head slightly at the commonly used though often rephrased saying. Young, I was. Free...not so much. I was locked where I was. I nodded, though, once again for the guy’s sake, “It’s nice.” He laughed and shook his head, “I’m sure it is. Was for me.” He smiled at me, now, and offered his cup out toward me. I leaned forward and clinked mine against his, and I laughed as I leaned back in my stool and took a long drink, allowing myself to enjoy the freedom that at least Kristin still had, even if Jackson didn’t.
“Hello, LA,” I said to the crowd. For some reason, looking out at this crowd, in LA, at night, I felt all the adrenaline of the first time I performed in front of a large audience as Jackson. I forgot, for a minute, that I was actually Kristin, that I was lying to the world, that I would have to take off a wig in order to wash the sweat out of my hair after the performance. All I saw was the blinding stage lights and the outlines of a million bodies, all jumping up and down, all I heard was the screams of the crowd and the strumming of Joel’s bass as I greeted the crowd before we started playing. “How you all doing tonight?” I asked in my fake accent. The screams grew louder, and I grinned and pulled one of the classic performer lines- “What was that? I couldn’d quite hear you.” The screams were louder yet. “Still can’t hear you!” I screamed. The response from the crowd was so loud, I was surprised that I heard the first notes of “We'll Blow Your Ears Out” as I leaned into the mic and sang.
© 2010
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