Burned to the Bone

If ever a girl had been in love with a band, I was. I screamed at all their concerts, I owned everything ever put out with their pictures on it, cried whenever the latest gossip said one of them was dating and my room resembled a shrine to the lead singer, L.M. Allen. Every member of Fall from Glory was sleek, hot and different. They didn't follow all the rules and they paved their own way as a garage band to the big time. L.M. Lane had even been legally emancipated from his parents. He was my god.

I loved my parents and felt guilty sometimes that I thought about leaving them. It was just that they were so overbearing sometimes! It really bugged me and I fumed about it silently in my room while listening to L.M. Allen echo my feelings in his ripping vocals.

Needless to say when Fall from Glory came to town, I was ready. Psyched, that I, Elaine Brown would actually see him in person. I changed my outfit at least eight times before settling on a low cut black tank top, tight black jeans and laced up black army boots. I smeared dark shadow on my eyelids and tied my shoulder length brown hair into two braids that bang against my back. I considered rubbing on a fake tattoo then decided against it. Then I chose a bandanna so red it could blind someone from three miles away and tied into my hair.

I took the bus with my friend Anna, who actually hated Fall from Glory, but was going because no one else would come with me. On the two hour bus ride, we joked about her crush on that guy in Chem and Mrs.Jacken's new haircut. All I was really thinking about was L.M. and how tonight was fate. I would meet him and he would see that I was just like him when I played one of my own songs on his guitar. I'd written one just for him and some how I would get to play it. It was about craving what you can't have with some really obnoxious words.

The concert hall was packed with screaming teens. It took me a few minutes for the bitter truth to sink in. The seats were to far back from the stage and the lighting to bright for anyone on stage to see me. I felt like crying.

Then the warm up band was done and I forgot to cry because there he was! In full shining lights and black leather from head to toe. His black hair had been dyed red and spiked to look like fire. The rest of the band faded in his glory like light bulbs to the sun. I could tune out all the screaming and hear only his voice as he began to softly sing over the opening chords of a song so new no one in the audience had heard it yet. He began so quiet that I thought the mikes weren't working and then the bang came in such force that it rocked me back on my heels. I listened in rapt attention, catching each lyric and imagining he was singing it directly to me.

When I was with you there was this heat

and I 'd say gee isn't this neat?

Then you got closer and

maybe the heat was a little to hot.

Cause I began to sweat a lot.

I suggested you should lay low

You asked if you could stay.

I said no cause

I'M BURNING TO THE BONE,

MY HEART'S AFLAME AND THERE'S

NOTHING I CAN DO!

I DON'T WANT TO BE WITH YOU!

I wish sometimes I could call your Quicke mart

you could undo this black magic on my heart

but, you were always a witch behind the lip-gloss

and now I'm at a dead loss.

I'M BURNING TO THE BONE,

MY HEART'S AFLAME AND THERE'S

NOTHING I CAN DO!

I NEED TO BE WITH YOU!

Wishing I could freeze away your touch,

the only way to become that cold may be a little much,

Maybe with my morbidity I could use,

sharp shattered shards of my dignity.

To take away all this pain,

there would be so much to gain.

There were two more verses and then he wailed out an impossibly high note. I was to busy to notice Anna rolling her eyes as the rest of the us girls around her were whipped into a frenzy, calling for more. The concert went on for three hours. I insisted that we stay for another hour after the band left in hopes that the band would come back out somehow for a fifth encore. They didn't appear and Anna insisted that I come along. I was sleeping over her house and she was ready for sleep.

It was dark, cold and more then a little creepy outside. Only a few other true die hards were still there, watching as the roadies loaded up the equipment. The next bus would be by in fifteen minutes which we killed talking about the concert and watching the muscle men load the three trucks. We were standing near enough that I heard something snap as one of the men lifted up an amp. A cord and something shiny fell to the ground. Checking to make sure no else had seen anything, I walked causally forward.

Picking the card up gently and still checking around to make sure no one was looking, I caught the rectangle in some light. Quickly, I hid it in my jacket and walked back to Anna, who was asking the bus driver to wait for her friend.

" Its okay Anna, I'll catch the next bus. You go home, I want to wait a little to see if they come out." I tried to take the excitement out of my voice.

" Are you sure, Elaine? Its a long ride to make alone." She asked and from behind her the driver growled..

" Go!" I insisted.

" If your sure...." She got on and watched out the window as the buss pulled away.

As soon as it was out of sight, I ran to the door. The bouncer who was guarding the entrance stopped me with a hand. He looked down at the plastic pass I held out, in what I hoped was a non-cholant way.

" You must be one of Morris's gals." He muttered. Morris was the keyboardist and he'd always given me a sleazy feeling.

" Yeah." I said lightly.

" Go on in." He sighed as I went by. " Poor thing."

I wanted to turn around and ask him what he meant by that. Maybe if I had I would have never met L.M. Allen and maybe my life would be different. In any case, something pulled me on. The hall was cramped and smelled odd. After about twenty feet it opened into a medium room where roadies and some privileged persons mulled around drinking beer and munching on snack cakes. They were surrounded by a dozen male and female fans, some who had at least ten piercings and four tattoos a piece. I was out of my depth here.

I kept walking through the crowd, wondering where L.M. Allen was. Someone jostled me out of their way and I landed heavily against the wall. The wall creaked a little and my fingers quickly found a crack. It was a hidden door! Carefully, I opened it and slipped into the darkness beyond.

It turned out to be an entry into a non-descript hallway. I walked down it dejectedly passing door after door, mostly labeled storage closets. Then I heard it. A strain of laughter, coming from an open door up ahead. Hardly daring to hope, I raced forward, stopping only at the door to listen closely.

" What a frenzy! I don't believe it. Even in a small town we draw people." The sound was oily and I knew it from interviews. Morris.

" Yeah. Wonder what the girls back home think." And that was a voice I knew!

"Ah. You’re just thinkin’ about that Monika chick. Just cause you gave her a ring don’t mean nothing. We got plenty of time to be popular!"

" How long do you think it'll last? We're just the newest fad. Give it a year and we'll be begging for the attention of any home girl."

" Lance-boy, you are depressing me! I'm going to get me a lady!" I pressed myself small against the wall and held my breath as he barged out of the room. A reek of sweat, beer and pizza followed him.

I stood still even after he left, trying to think about what I would say to him. I didn't want to do the movie thing and be totally speechless. After about three minutes, I finally felt as prepared as I was going to get. I got off of the wall and fixed up my outfit and slung my overnight bag over my shoulder. With a deep breath I entered the room.

It was a complete mess. Costumes littered the floor, sharing the space with empty cartons of take out and bottles. It must have been the room they changed in, between songs. There was even a small make-up case sitting on a desk. A mirrored desk with a chair over which my god had chosen to sit.

It was a perfect view because his back was turned to me just enough that I could see his face without him seeing me. He was writing something on a lined bit of paper with an expensive pen. It was strange, he looked smaller in person. He wasn't wearing his remarkably tight costumes or the outrageous outfits he donned for interviews. Instead, he was wearing faded jeans and an almost preppie sweater. His face was oddly plain without the makeup. The die was wash out apparently and fragile wispy black hair clung to his face.

" Since your here, you might as well come in." He sounded tired and his voice scratched a little. It took me a minute to realize he had seen me in the mirror. Feeling more embarrassed then I ever had in my life, I stepped forward into the room, picking my way around the boxes.

" Hi." That was all I could come with.

" You aren't going stab me?" There was a kind of lazy paranoia in his voice as though he was afraid of me, but didn't want to show it.

" No."

" Shoot me?"

"No!"

" Propose marriage?"

"No!"

" What do you have in that bag?" He leaned forward.

" Just some clothes and a song. I wanted to play it for you." I added the last filling my eyes and voice with hope.

"I suppose you want to use my guitar to do it too." He leaned back in his chair and regarded me with his blue-green eyes.

" Does this happen to you that often?" Red flushed my face. Could I have been that unoriginal?

" I've gotten tons of mail about it, but I think you must be the first person to try it." I couldn't tell it he was mad or not. He cocked his head to one side and half-snorted.

" I'm...ahh. I'll just.uhhh.... leave." I started to back out feeling like a complete loser.

" No, wait." My heart stopped. " What's your name?"

" Elaine." I didn't have time to make up something cooler. Like Rose or Crystal.

" Elaine is a good name. I can't tell you how many girls I've met who call themselves something fancy." He had turned in the chair to face me, his stare unnerved me. " Elaine are the clothes you have in your bag more normal?"

" What do you mean?" I was way to confused to register that I was getting what I wanted.

" There's a bathroom across the hall, if you change into something that's less black and take off the makeup, I'll listen to your song." He started to turn back.

" Really?"

" Really, go before I change my mind."

That was the fastest I'd ever moved in my life. In the sticky room, I tore off the black and pulled on jeans and light blue t-shirt. I replaced the bulky shoes with a pair of sandals. I wiped all the makeup off my face and I had to make do with a tube of light lip gloss. Not allowing myself any more time to think, I went back across the hall.

He had cleaned up the room somewhat and now I could see a couch in the corner. As I walked in he took my bag and handed me an old battered acoustic guitar.

" What..." inwardly, I gave small sigh of relief, I didn't really know how to play an electric guitar.

" You wanted to play on my guitar, well this is it." He paused a moment seeing my statement, continued. " The band is owned by a manger so he owns the equipment; this is my real guitar, the one I've had since I was your age. How old are you anyway?" Again he caught me off guard, forcing me to answer honestly.

" Sixteen." The blush returned. He was twenty-three which hadn't mattered up till about fifteen minutes ago. Face to face, I realized how old twenty-three was compared to sixteen.

" I see." He remained neutral then waved at the couch.

" I thought you said you were going to play."

I settled down, nervously fiddling with the strings. I picked out the first few notes of the song I had wrote for him and then I looked up and saw his eyes and stopped. It wasn't right anymore. The song didn't fit. Panicking I thought back to before I started listening to Fall from Glory. I came up with only one song. It felt good and right so I sang it. I have a deep voice for a girl , almost a tenor and this song was built for it. It didn't scream like his songs, it was just quiet and sad. Originally, it was just a quick tune about one of my many crushes, but it had a different meaning now.

I wish I had the voice to reach you,

wish I had the heart to tell you,

I'm too weak and you're to blind,

For us to find some piece of mind.

There was more and I sang it all, feeling comfortable with the guitar, felt its rhythms and just enjoyed it, making myself forget I had an audience. At the end, I remembered all over again and looked up.

" Why sing this to me?" He asked. Did he like it? I didn't know.

" I had something else written but after meeting you in person it seemed wrong. I thought you were dark and radical."

He gave that odd snort again and suddenly I was angry.

"If you think its so ridiculous then why do it yourself? I mean, look at yourself." I kicked at black leather, lying on the floor. "Is it all a lie? Because if it is then I'm sorry I even came in here."

I stopped, realizing what I had just done. I looked at him expecting to see answering anger, but instead, I saw only a weary sadness.

" You're right." I was getting use to his speaking voice which was slow and methodical over unpracticed lines. " Most of it is lies and I shouldn't judge you for believing the image I created."

"So, who are you really?" I was feeling so bold! Later, I would look back and wonder at my audacity.

" I don't know. Maybe when Fall from Glory is forgotten, I can try and find out. I'm just trying to stay alive, right now. The other guys have their drugs and their women, but I don't have any way to deal." His eyes were alive and I could tell from the gravity of his tone that this wasn't something he shared with people often.

" Deal with what?" I prodded him on when he paused.

" That we're going to be nobodies by the time were twenty-five. Maybe twenty years down the road we can have a reunion and swap stories on some " Where Are They Now?" special." He rubbed one hand over his face. " You see, Elaine, we grew up too fast and played music that was the fad and soon that fad will be over and we'll still be here. You put us in this godlike position for a small time. Its like a small heaven and then just as soon as you can, you forget us and we're left to pick up the pieces."

" Fall from Glory." I mumbled.

" Exactly. I named the band when we got our first contract. The other guys thought it sounded deep." Scorn was heavy in those words and I leapt on it, not wanting this odd conversation to end.

" Aren't they your friends?" He thought for a second, leaning back on the chair before rocking forward again.

" They used to be. When it was just us jamming in a basement, it was fun. Our town was small and we were the only ones who really loved to play in our high school. We were forced together. Once the real fame started, our differences were made more obvious. Morris has his girls to fawn over him, Jack has his weed, I don’t want to know what Joey’s doing with his time and I have my songs. There isn't room for us to be friends. As long as we keep pumping out hits, no one much cares if we all get along or not."

" You sound like you've thought about this a lot." I finally said after a pause of some length.

" You would to if it was your life." I thought about that for a bit.

" What will you do when its over?"

" I don't know. Find a small house and job in a nameless town, out in the boondocks maybe. Maybe, get an apartment in L.A.and use my fame as a springboard to becoming an actor. Who knows?" He brought his hand up to his face and the sleeves of his sweater fell down his arms. Small, round scars covered the underside of both arms.

" What is that?" I asked, not screening my reaction.

" Cigarette burns. " He rubbed them unconsciously. "When I started high school I was real fucked up. My Mom and a good friend of mine got me to stop smoking. " My eyes must have widened to cover my whole face.

" I thought you were separated from your parents?"

"What?" He looked temporarily confused before rolling his eyes. " I forgot. We told the public that to spare my mom. This way she’s left mostly alone to raise my brother and sister. My dad died when I was in high school." He pushed his sleeves back over his arms.

I felt dizzy. All my ideas and beliefs had been shattered and reality was beginning to look a little fuzzy. All my thoughts of the past two months had been based on him and the rest of Fall from Glory. It didn't seem logical that it was all wrong, that I had been fed media lies. He seemed to notice my distress.

" Do you have a way to get home?" He was rising and I knew that our time was over.

" The bus will be coming by soon. My friend is waiting for me at her house. She's probably worried." I gathered my bag and laid down his guitar.

" Come on. I'll drive you home." He picked up a set keys from off the floor. I sat on the couch blinking at him. " I like to go out after a show sometimes. I don't want to forget how to drive myself around."

His car was actually quite run down. It was a red Honda Civic with a lot of dents. That was, he explained, because no one shoots at an old Honda Civic. I saw his point and got into the car.

The drive didn't seem two hours long. We talked about little things and it didn't take me long to get over the fact I was talking to him. He was just a regular guy after all and that was reassuring.

" This is it." The words were cold and dead in my mouth. I wanted so badly to just keep that evening going forever.

" Its been an interesting night, Elaine." I couldn't see his statement in the dark.

" Thank you for giving me a chance." I said lamely.

"Do you have an e-mail address?" Wow! This night was just full of surprises. I wrote it down for him on a scrap of paper and pen that had Fall from Glory inscribed on it.

" I can't promise to write. Maybe though. Do me a favor? Don't tell anyone what happened. The media gets a hold of these things easy and I don't have the patience to listen to a hundred girls play the guitar." I got of the car and watched him drive off into the night.

It was my first experience with reality versus the world. The image I had been fostered to accept was false and I had living proof of it. The petty rage against my parents, the horrific makeup and the barely there cloths rang false to me now. I wasn't a part of that crowd, not at all.

I was remade that night and it took a lot of heat to burn away the remains of old daydreams. It burned to the bone. Maybe the next time L.M. Allen writes to me, I'll tell him about my new self image and how I don't listen to his music any more. Or maybe I won't. Fall from Glory has begun to make its descent from the public eye. He doesn't need me to rub it in his face. After all his music is a big part of him and this separation from fame just might burn him past recognition.