A Story With a Very Dumb Title...

Mae was asleep on the couch, her throat emitting highly annoying noises. Lor was running around the house, applying more make-up, fixing her hair, and other things of the sort.

“Hey Honey,” my mom spoke. I wrapped my arms around her waist.

“Hi mom.” I sighed. Since I had left the studio today I had felt the depression, and it was consuming most of my thoughts right now. Hardly considered pleasant.

Nothing was right with the day. All I could think about was the bittersweet loss of control of our show, and my dad.

I missed my dad. He may not have been a very active role in my life, injuries had cause him to be almost immobile, but he was always there. A security blanket of sorts. No longer, seeing as he was miles away, watching over everything we had left behind to come to L.A.

“Are you alright?” Mom asked. She kissed my forehead and returned to the book on her lap.

“Just depressed.” I answered. She frowned.

Than the doorbell rang, a melancholy drawl that graced me with the urge to cover my ears and hum.

“That’s Bill!” Lor chimed, skipping to the door. Her mother followed, unconsciously playing the role of a responsible parent. I watched Lor leave with dreary confidence. Mae had the bet all but won.

Lor had been gone not ten minutes when loneliness made me incapable staying any longer.

“Mom, I’m going for a walk.” I stood slowly as I informed my parental of what I intended to do.

“Be careful,” she said, “I love you.”

I kissed her cheek, “Love you too.”

I wandered down the streets while my mind wandered on streets a thousand miles away. Somehow I ended up in the shopping district north of my housing development. I touched my pocket thoughtfully, a person who wouldn’t question my mood would be pleasant company right now. However my pocket was depressingly empty.

“Great.” I growled.

I was walking past a news stand when I ran into the company I craved. Looking down at a gossip rag was a familiar mop of brown and blonde hair.

“What are you doing here Strify?” I halted my walk, which was really more of a snail’s pace to question him.

His face shot up in fear but calmed when his eyes landed on me. But calm soon melted into concern. Great, he’ll ask questions.

“Hey Elizabeth!” I was tackled into a very much welcome, and needed, hug. It was then that I noticed his oddly un-strify-like hat and unglasses.

“What’s with the highly anti-glam outfit?” I criticized, using his own words from days before.

“I’m in disguise. Don’t want to be attacked by fan girls. So how’d you recognize me?” He pulled my arm and we started off in a walk. Strify was leading so I have no idea where we were headed.

“Well…besides the fact that you’re practically shedding glitter…I would recognize those shoes anywhere. You wore them in the I Came 2 Party video.

He chuckled, “You remember that?”

“Of course! I have that video memorized. By the way, your shirt looked like a glorified trash bag.”

Strify spun around to face me in what I THINK was mock disbelief, “That shirt was amazing! Now hurry up! I have to go back to the hotel soon. We only have a few hours.”

An hour of shopping later we were sitting at a couch in Starbucks facing the window.

The sun had disappeared behind the clouds, the air was warm. People walked by with purpose. Everyone seemed to be reveling in the nice weather. All pictures of contentment. Damn them.

“Look at those shoes!”

Our eyes fell to the feet of a passerby and we laughed. That’s right, we were people watching.

“Ooh! Look at his hat!”

Strify took another glance out the window before turning to me, “Alright I give up. What’s wrong?”

“What do you mean?” I asked, trying to be nonchalant, twisting my face into a smile. To my surprise, or so I told myself, he saw right through it.

“Something’s wrong. I could tell as soon as I saw you.” He said, looking at me with accusing eyes.

“Cliché much?” My pitiful attempt at changing the subject was ignored. Stupid German.

“Seriously, what’s wrong?”

I sighed, I hate talking about stuff like this. Clearly I don’t have a choice in this instance.

“It’s nothing - no let me finish - it’s nothing serious. I have clinical depression. And today it reared it’s ugly head at me. All I can think about is my family, and how insubstantial I am.”

“Insubstantial?”

“I have no control over our show here. I’m just another face in the crowd. And the studio expects us to be perfect. It’s too much pressure, too soon.”

He nodded, “I see. It’s the same with us, when we’re on tour. Everything is coordinated for us. So focus on performing, and enjoy the fact that you hardly have to lift a finger.”

God, I hate pep talks. “I guess. Speaking of touring, why are you here?”

Cue confusion.

“Why is Cinema Bizarre in L.A? You aren’t on tour.”

“Oh,” he laughed, “Promotional crap. We’re kicking off an American tour and we came to L.A. for photo shoots and scheduling and stuff. It’s really dull.

“Sounds fun.”

This time we both laughed, “No it doesn’t. It’s very boring.”

I’m a Barbie girl
In a Barbie Wo-orld!

Strify dug his hand into his pocket and I felt my eyebrow disappear into my hair line.

“Interesting ring.”

He shrugged, “Lost a bet with Romeo.” And then he answered his phone.

While he was talking to…somebody, I turned my attention to the crowds outside the coffee shop. It was funny how people were so easy to read, when you looked.

A man walked by, hat pushed up, camera around his neck, shorts, sandals, smile. He was a tourist.

Another man, hat pushed low, sunglasses, camera around neck, map, running shoes, smirk. He was a paparazzi.

I wonder how so many people could make a living simply by taking pictures of famous people. And it was with an unpleasant jolt that I realized it would eventually be me and my friends they were taking pictures of. What’s so fascinating about celebrities? I wonder…

“Hey, I have to get back to the hotel. The guys are waiting for me. Want to come?” Strify asked, pulling me out of my thoughts. I looked at a nearby clock, it was nearing seven.

“Sure. But I can’t stay long.”

Strify grinned, “Yaay! I’ll drive you home ok?”

“Great.”

The hotel was very…accommodating. There were people waiting to open the doors, from both sides, and employees practically rushed us as we entered the building. It was amusing for me, and annoying for Strify.

“Get away from me!” He ordered. Pulling me towards the elevators seemed like his new goal in life, and I almost lost my arm in his effort. Once we were safely encased in a small metal box he sighed, “So annoying. They don’t know who we are. They just know I’m famous.”

I grinned and elbowed him, “And rich.”

He smiled back, “Mustn’t forget the money.”

Two or-so hours later I said good-bye to the guys (as I am too lazy to say all their names) and got in the car with Strify.

“That was fun.” He commented, dancing to the radio. I smiled lightly and shrugged.

“You guys scare me sometimes.”

The lights were all on when we pulled up to the house. I guess mom was clogging up L.A.’s phone system trying to reach me. Oh well, she’ll survive.

“Feeling better?” He asked, before I opened my door.

I didn’t know. “I guess…kinda…thanks.” He leaned over and hugged me.

“Anytime girly.”

I climbed out of the car, “You act so gay sometimes. Bye Strify.”

He waved and drove off. Hopefully mom won’t kill me when I go inside. Maybe I should stay on the front porch all night?

I went inside, nodded at my friends and fell asleep the minute I sat on my bed.