| Studio 54 was packed. There were people everywhere, celebrities were dancing beside the so-called “normal” people, drinking and partying. There were people talking and laughing on the balcony, watching the scene below. Suddenly, a shower of silver and blue balloons descended on the crowd, enciting shrieks and laughter from the party-goers. The year was 2002, not some random night in the mid-seventies. The infamous Studio 54 in New York City was being taken over by MTV for “One Last Dance,” which was what the station had been promoting on TRL for the past month. Groups like ‘N Sync, the Backstreet Boys and two thirds of Hanson (minus Zac) were mingling with bands like Three Doors Down, the Offspring and Sugar Ray as well as the lucky fans that had won the coveted tickets from Carson Daly or Dave Holmes. Most of the fans were braces-clad teenage girls that had brought their friends or sisters to the party, thrilled to be a part of the history of “that club on Behind The Music,” but sitting at a table in the corner sat a shy twenty-one year old, sipping one of the few drinks the bartender had poured for someone who wasn’t famous enough to have a bodyguard following them around. She sat, looking out at the crowd wistfully, wanting to be out dancing and laughing, but at the same time, not wanting to have a great time because the one person she had wanted to be here with wasn’t there. He was with someone else. Olivia put down her drink, and reminding herself not to pick it up after she came back for fear of some date rape drug swirling around the Pina Colada mix, she headed toward the bathroom to call him on her cell phone that she had managed to fir in her purse. The bathroom was deserted when she entered it. She found that it was soundproof when the door shut completely, she could no longer hear “Miami” blaring out of the speakers. She sat down on the couch and pulled her phone out of her purse. She opened it and dialed a familiar number, the number she had dialed so many times that the numbers on her phone were beginning to wear off. “Talk to me.” She smiled at the sound of his voice. “Hey, what’s up?” “Not much, I’m in my car. How’s 54?” he asked, turning the steering wheel to the left. “Okay, I suppose,” she replied, suddenly missing him more than she had all night. She thought that hearing his voice would make her feel better, but it only made her feel worse; she wanted him to be with her, not to be on the phone with her. “Okay?” he asked, unbelieving. “You’re at Studio Frickin’ 54, jeez Liv. Why aren’t you having a good time?” “How’d you know I wasn’t having a good time?” “You’re not. I can hear you sulking. What’s wrong?” he asked, handing over his car key to a valet. She broke down. “I don’t know a damn person here. I HATE New York City, it gives me the creeps, I wanna go home. I’m so scared that I’m gonna get drugged and raped if I drink the wrong thing. I tried talking to a few people, but they wouldn’t give me the time of day because YOU’RE not with me. And the ones who DID talk to me were fourteen years old, and the only reason they even SPOKE to me was because they told me to drop dead because of you. So now I’m sitting on a couch in the soundproof Ladies’ Room of Studio Frickin’ 54, where who-knows-what went on twenty-five years ago, I’m all by myself and I’m bored out of my fucking mind.” She stopped talking for a few seconds to calm herself down, then remembered why she was alone. “So, how’s Amanda?” she asked as bitterly as possible; she wanted him to be with HER that night, not with Amanda, and she wanted him to know it. She heard him walk through doors of some sort and music start playing loudly in the background. “I don’t care. She’s no longer in my life. I dumped her.” With those three words, her little world became a little bit brighter and a little bit happier. If he wasn’t with Amanda anymore, he would have to have a damn good reason for it. “Why?” she blurted out, unable to contain her curiosity. She immediately smacked herself in the forehead at her stupidity. He stifled a snicker. “She wasn’t letting me have any space. She was being so damn controlling anymore. Hell, she didn’t want me to go to 54 with you and I still don’t understand why she didn’t realize that I-“ His cell phone suddenly cut off. “Hello? Are you still there?” Giving up, she shut her phone, suddenly feeling very depressed that his voice had stopped talking to her. The bathroom door suddenly opened, and she threw her phone in her purse and grabbed a tissue, hoping whoever it was would think she was crying and go away and leave her alone. “…That I wouldn’t just go anyway,” a familiar voice said. She looked up from her purse and into the same baby blues she fell in love with years prior. Her mouth dropped open. “What – What are you doing here?” she asked, jumping up and hugging him. “I couldn’t let you go to New York City alone, now could I?” he asked, putting his arms around her. She pulled away a bit. “So you drove all the way here?” He gave her the once-over. “Yep. And it’s worth it, you look amazing,” he said with a smile, watching her blush. She was wearing black leather pants and a blue halter top that came about halfway down her stomach. “Thanks,” she muttered, giving him a small smile. She suddenly realized she was hugging him in the Ladies’ Bathroom. “What are you doing in here?” “Getting you to have fun, that’s what,” he replied, taking her by the hand and opening the bathroom door to the sounds of “California Love” by Tupac. She smiled and followed him to the dance floor, laughing at the way he “danced.” She was finally having fun, and no one was going to stop her. Until he told her, “Wait here a second, I’ll be back.” And with that, he gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and headed toward the DJ booth. She ordered a Strawberry Daiquiri, watching carefully as the bartender made it, not paying much attention to what he was doing. But as soon as “Nookie” ended, his voice came over the sound system. “I know that pretty much everyone from MTV is in the building right now, listening to me. And I know a LOT of people are just dying to find out about my friend Olivia and I.” A murmer went through the crowd as the cameras that had been taping Fred Durst trying to flirt with Christina Augilera turned toward the DJ booth and the blonde guy with the microphone. “You all know me as Ashley Angel from O-Town. You know my friend Olivia as just that – my friend.” Olivia was thoroughly confused. But pissed at the same time. She was certainly going to kick his ass when he came back to her. “But there’s one thing that she should know…” He began walking into the crowd, toward where Olivia was sitting at the bar. As soon as he caught sight of her, he smiled. “Liv, I’ve liked you since we were little kids. A LOT. So, I guess I’m asking you this now, in this way, because everyone’s gonna find out anyway.” He walked up to Olivia. “Will you go out with me? As my girlfriend?” Olivia didn’t know whether to hit him or to cry. She shook her head yes, not knowing what else to do. Ashley leaned over and kissed her quickly as Studio 54 applauded. He whispered into her ear as the applause died down, “No one can hold a candle to you, Liv. Without you, I’m just… Incomplete.” |
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