ODAAT: Volume 1, Chapter 27

 

Chapter 27

A Different Kind Of Running

I've been on enough tours to know what they are all about. There are always fights, and hearts get broken. There's a bunch of drugs and alcohol and there's always a party to attend. The bus is restrictive and smells bad. The hotel rooms all feel clinical. I've been through all of that before. I've been the hand that keeps the show moving forward.

But I've never been in the spotlight before this tour. I've never been a part of the magic.

Now, we're out on that stage every night. Crystal is writing music with Frankie, harmonizing in dressing rooms and belting out duets on stage. They've started to talk about the next album and they're both asking my opinion when they do. I'm expected to make an appearance in the television interviews now. One photographer even asked me to join Frankie in a photo shoot. I said no, but Frankie insisted it was a good idea. I can never say no to that gorgeous smile. So Crystal sat me down, dressed me up, and sent me out. Frankie has made me a part of his life in every way possible. I don't even think he's trying too hard. It feels like he's making up for lost time.

We have to run from the venue to the tour bus now. We have to wait for security guards to bring us to the hotel. We're not invisible anymore and it's a different kind of running.

Crystal didn't end up using personalities and reinventing herself for every show. After she choreographed the routine in New York, Frankie asked her to keep performing. She was thrilled, but it meant she'd have to stay in her own skin. Although she was encouraged to wear different costumes and create a different environment each night. There was no more Paige. No Jennifer or Amy. All the identities she had created were laid to rest. She stayed Crystal, a beautiful back-up dancer from California. She got to keep her entirely made-up history though. It's not like anyone could know the truth about her family life and where she was born. She changed her name when she ran away from home. She had invented a new identity when she first got to New York. No one could trace any further back. But, they asked. They always ask her about her history and where she grew up. She avoids answering most of the time and when she does answer, she changes her story. After a few drinks, she might tell someone at a bar a bit about herself. That's bound to end up on the internet. Either way, she can't keep running. Metaphorically, because physically it seems to be all we do.

But when we crossed the boarder into Canada yesterday, Crystal insisted we adopt new personalities. She had one story in particular that she was dying to use.

“It would be a shame to waste.” She insists, looking over at me sweetly. I shake my head, looking at the outfit she's made me wear. I'm not going out on stage tonight, so I'm dressed to fit with Crystal's story. It's a short dress with gold accents and a Celtic cross down the front. She's done my make up with gold accents to match. She bought me a necklace with the same Celtic cross and a gold crown that had green gemstones in it. This persona, she said, was an Heiress in an Irish kingdom. During the concert in Vancouver, she paraded me around. She made everything about me and let herself become invisible. I think she just wanted a break from the constant attention we had both been receiving. She introduced me to all of the stage hands. When one of them gave her attitude, she insisted I could have his life ruined with one phone call to my royal family. His tune changed instantly and he practically bowed. She told stories of the castle I spent my childhood in. She said I had butlers, servants and everything I ever needed was done for me. She described the rolling hills, miles and miles of green stretching further than the eyes could see. She recalled there was nothing to do in my hometown except look at the clouds as they swiftly crossed the sky. She said I could only dream of a life different from my own, but had no real knowledge of the rest of the world.

“I was bored and restless. I didn't even know how to drive the carriage into town.” I add to her captive audience. They nod and Crystal keeps telling her story.

“We met at the track one day after a race.” She adds. I nod, putting my arm around her shoulders.

“We only had a brief conversation, but I wanted to know more about the life she spoke of.” I finish.

“You wanted to know more. Period.” She adds and we both laugh. I can see why she'd want to use this particular background story. I wonder why she didn't call herself an Heiress. She has the personality for it, I don't. I can't focus on the crowds that surround us tonight. My mind is elsewhere.

There's only a week left before the final show in California. I can't say I'm not thrilled to be going home. I will be pleased to have a brief break and sleep in an actual bed. At the same time, I'm not thrilled to be going home. Whitney called me to say she ran into Hunter, that he's planning to attend the concert in California. A part of me wants him to storm back stage and demand we work things out. He used to be bold like that. Back before his insecurities let him ruin a handful of relationships. But I know he's long given up initiative. I don't think I'm ready to see him yet. I want to show him that I've moved on, that my life is so much better without him in it. But, I think I'm only convincing myself of that. I don't think I've moved on, I've just kept running.