Hello! A bit of a departure from "Daddies" and "We Found Us." The idea for this story has been rattling around in my brain for a while now, so I thought I'd bring it to life. I hope you enjoy.
insert bit about not owning anything that smacks of Glee here
~oOo~
Blaine Anderson and fame collided just short of his 19th birthday. It was a classic case of talent plus passion plus performing-in-the-right-coffee-house-at-the-right-moment. Overnight, it seemed, we went from the goofy kid, busking on street corners for kicks and tips, to sold-out venues that held thousands. He was living every aspiring artist's dream.
Sadly, and as with many young entertainers, Blaine was not equipped to deal with his skyrocketing fame. His life began to exist in a bubble, where the people around him told him what he wanted to hear. Rules didn't apply anymore. Blaine had more money than God. His staff kept his schedule, made sure he was where he was supposed to be, and covered Blaine's tracks when his behavior began to look less than stellar.
Any performer will tell you that the long hours the job requires, well, suck. While never one to require much down time, even Blaine began to feel the stress of writing, recording, and touring. Next, came alcohol, then the recreational drugs. Behavior outside the performance arena became erratic: party pictures of a wasted Blaine published on-line and in supermarket tabloid, reports of public drunkenness, hanging out with people not known for being a positive influence on others.
Blaine's manager and publicist began to really worry when his behavior got him permanently banned from most airlines. "…an in-flight risk" as one airline stated in a letter. "…lewd and questionable behavior" said another. Getting from one coast to another became tricky. Blaine's reputation was rapidly declining, which lead him to where he is now: sitting in a chair in his manager's office, ear buds plugged in, sunglasses on, wild curly hair all over the place, and air drumming to a song only heard by him, while his manager and publicist discuss his future.
"I think we are at Code Red. Just this morning, these pictures were released on-line. Other than babysitting him 24/7, I'm not sure what to do," said his manager, Gloria, as she handed a file of pictures across her desk.
"Well, that makes two of us," Charlotte, Blaine's publicist said, after examining the contents and dropping the file of pictures on Gloria's desk. Both women stopped talking and looked at their boss, who continued air drumming, even when he realized the women were looking at him. He offered a smile and then, much too loudly, sang the lyrics to the song playing in his ears.
"Look," Gloria said, looking Char in the eyes, "If we want to remain gainfully employed, we've got to get him to New York for that Letterman interview. The studio has been gracious enough to give Blaine another chance, and if we're honest with ourselves, this may be his last chance." Gloria paused, clearly in problem solving mode. "Getting him from LA to New York is the biggest of our worries, seeing no airline is willing to take a risk on him. We can't just put him on a bus or a train alone. Far too many unsupervised hours there."
"The way I see it," Charlotte said, "we have one option: to drive him to the East Coast. It's the only way we can assure that he's delivered to the studio, primed and ready to interview." Both women paused and looked at each other.
"Not it!" both yelled at the same time. Realizing there was an obvious tie, both yelled again: "Not it!"
"I can't drive him across the country," Gloria said. "I have a million things to attend to before the concert tour begins next month. You have to go," she said to Charlotte.
"Oh, no no no, you are not pinning this one on me. I'm on vacation next week, remember? And there is no way in hell I'm canceling the tickets to Hawaii. If I postpone this vacation one more time, Bryan will flip. I'm not going to let a job I may or may not have in the near future, mess with my marriage," Charlotte said.
The women sat in silence. "How about this: I'll fly out to New York the day before the interview to make sure Blaine is ready for to go on. He'll be sober, presentable, and prepped for any questions Letterman might ask him. I'll get out there and do the hard work if you'll get Blaine there," Gloria suggested.
"Still no-go. I'm not changing my vacation, end of story," Charlotte stated.
"Well, someone has to get him east and watch him like a hawk along the way, and it can't be…" Gloria stopped talking and looked Charlotte. Smiles crept over both women's faces. Charlotte silently raised her eyebrows and Gloria returned the gesture with a quick head nod.
"Hey Kurt, could you come in here for a moment?" Gloria called to her assistant through her open door.
"What can I do for you Gloria?" Kurt asked pleasantly.
"We're here to make you an offer you can't refuse," Gloria said coyly. Kurt had heard this tone in Gloria's voice before, and it never ended well. "Blaine needs to be in New York City at the end of the month for an interview with Letterman."
"And this involves me how?" Just as the question left his lips, Kurt began putting the pieces together, specifically in the area of Blaine's restricted air travel. "Oh no. Don't make me do that. I won't survive five miles in the car with Blaine."
"Kurt, it is our last chance. In case you haven't noticed, Blaine's not exactly winning any awards for the All-American Boy contest." All three paused and looked in Blaine's direction, where he continued to air drum, oblivious to his surroundings. "If he tanks once more, we're all out of our jobs." Both Gloria and Charlotte looked at Kurt to add a little more pressure.
"You realize I'll probably end up killing him," Kurt said, not joking.
"We'll make it worth your while," Charlotte teased.
"Nothing could make it…" Kurt began, but was then cut off.
"We'll double your salary for the month," Gloria offered.
"And you'll get a bonus if you bring Blaine back in one piece," Charlotte added.
"And really, you just have to get him there. I'll get to New York right before the interview is taped to get Blaine ready and prepped. Come on, what do you say?" Gloria nudged.
"Do I have to share hotel rooms with him?"
"Absolutely not. You don't to baby sit him 24/7. Just…keep tabs on him and help him stay off the covers of tabloid magazines," Charlotte said.
Kurt stayed silent, eyeing his two bosses. "Okay, final deal: doubled salary for TWO months, a week off after we return (Lord knows I'll need some time for recovery), I do not share hotel rooms with him, and while we are on the road, I'm not his maid or his butler."
"Deal!" both women said.
"Here's a credit card to cover expenses. My travel agent will set up hotel rooms along the way, so don't worry about that. I'll also rent you a car, a big one that will give you plenty of space from each other. As soon as the last reservations come through, I'll print your itinerary. Easy as pie! Really, Kurt, it won't be a big deal," said Gloria.
"Can I quote you on that?" Kurt asked.
Gloria remained silent. They both knew the answer to that question.
~oOo~
At 7am the next Friday, Kurt took one last look around his apartment, making sure timers were set for the lights and that all the windows were locked. He made sure that the note for Mrs. Kurcher, the neighbor who would take care of Kurt's cat, contained everything she'd need to know. Just as he finished filling his cat's water bowl, he heard a knock. Grabbing his suitcase, Kurt gave Charlie-the-cat one last pat, and opened the door to find Gloria.
"Good morning Kurt!" Gloria said brightly. A little too brightly, Kurt thought. "Are you ready to go?
"As ready as I'll always be," Kurt said, walking through the door and pulling it closed behind him. When he and Gloria reached the sidewalk outside Kurt's apartment, she stopped and faced Kurt.
"Kurt, two bits of bad news."
Kurt put his suitcase on the walkway, prepared to call off the deal and turn back if the news was any more horrible than the task at hand. "What. Spill it, Glory."
"Well…okay…here's the deal: the rental car company was out of SUV's so we had to go with something a bit smaller."
"How much smaller?" Kurt asked.
"VW Jetta," Gloria said.
"What? Those things are tiny!" Kurt yelled, looking behind Gloria to see the compact car waiting at the curb.
"Well, it's a diesel, which means you'll be able to save the planet while you drive by using biodiesel! Go green!" Gloria said, pumping a tentative fist in the air. "Look, it was a VW or a Hyundai. I think I made the better choice."
"Yeah, well good luck to me trying to find biodiesel in the middle of Hicksville, Iowa," Kurt muttered. "What's the second bit of joy you have to pass along?"
"Uh. Well…" Gloria stammered.
"Out with it," Kurt demanded, totally not caring how he was speaking to his boss.
"Um, Blainesdrunk" Gloria said quickly.
"He's WHAT?"
"Drunk. He's drunk, okay? His friend David assured me that he'd keep an eye on Blaine and that he'd keep his drinking to a minimum last night. Evidently, drinking after midnight no longer counts as 'night' so, they all spent the wee hours of the morning straight shotting tequila. The bright spot is that he's three sheets to the wind and really quiet! Your first few hours on the road should be peaceful."
Kurt stood silently, looking at Gloria. Gloria smiled a hopeful smile that faded as soon as she realized Kurt was furious. "Alright Kurt, four month's salary if you get him there, plus three weeks off when you return. That's my final offer," Gloria said.
"Fine," Kurt said through clenched teeth. He grabbed the keys from Gloria's hand, picked up his bag and marched to the Jetta's trunk. Before approaching the driver's side door, Kurt looked at his boss and said, "You do realize that on top of the salary boost and the time off, you are going to owe me forever for this. FOREVER," he emphasized.
"Understood," Gloria said, as she headed to a waiting taxi that would return her home. She gave an encouraging wave to Kurt as the taxi pulled away. Kurt's left hand had to physically restrain his right hand from extending its middle finger and flipping her off.
"Okay, here we…Oh god!" Kurt gagged as he opened the driver's door. The smell that wafted from the car was ten times worse than a sleaziest tequila bar in the seediest part of the skuzziest town. Peering inside, Kurt saw a wasted Blaine, slumped over in the passenger's seat, snoring away.
"Just shoot me now," Kurt said, taking a deep breath and climbing in. He rolled down all four windows to clear the air, pointed the car in the direction of New York City, and pulled away.
~oOo~
Can't you see the potential for funny ahead? Hang on because Blaine and Kurt are in for a bumpy ride!
GirlFromTheWest xxoo
