Chapter 2

Sitting on the edge of the California King-sized bed, Conrad tore open the envelope and began to read. "You are hearby directed to present yourself for Armed Forces Physical Examination...*" Sure enough, the army wanted Conrad Birdie, and they wanted him now. They aren't the only ones. He pictured the crowds of adoring fans who flocked to his every concert and public appearance. But for how long? Tossing the letter onto the floor, Conrad slowly exhaled the breath he hadn't realized he had been holding, and let himself fall back onto the mattress.

"Possibly your swan song...Two years is a long time...Wham-O!...All stars fade..." For the next hour and a half, Conrad lay there, staring at the ceiling, as his manager's words swirled around in his head.

Stars may fade, but Conrad Birdie does not! Conrad propped himself up on his elbows and looked around the comfortably furnished room. Why does Uncle Sam want me now? Man, I'm at the top of my game, I've got a good thing goin', I ain't ready to loose all that!

The sound of a knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.

"Conrad! You awake in there?" Came the muffled voice of Mr. Bergman.

Getting up, Conrad walked over to the door and opened it. "You need something?"

Mr. Bergman gasped when he saw that Birdie was still dressed in pajamas and his animal print bathrobe. "Have you forgotten the interview? Get dressed. Quick! The editor of Heartthrob Magazine is going to be here any minute!"

"Relax man, I got it." Birdie closed the door and began changing into his famous gold suit just as he heard a knock at the door of the suite. Though he couldn't quite make out what was being said, Conrad heard two distinct voices. That of Mr. Bergman, and one belonging to a woman, whom he assumed must be the magazine editor.

After slipping on his boots and buckling his big "Birdie" belt buckle to complete the ensemble, Conrad stepped out of his bedroom and into the living room space of the suite. Mr. Bergman sat in one of the two overstuffed chairs which stood with their backs toward Conrad's bedroom door, and seated on the couch, directly across from him...

Conrad took a seat in the other chair and gave a low whistle. Somehow, he had been expecting someone older, less interesting, but the young, brown-eyed brunette seated on the couch opposite Mr. Bergman and himself was anything but boring.

Conrad watched as the young editor looked uncertainly at him and then back to his manager. "Um...Mr. Bergman, I did mention that this was to be a casual interview, correct?" She glanced back at the gold suit and then continued, "I mean, there was no need for Mr. Birdie to get all dressed up."

Man, I wish I'd known that!

"Casual? Of course, of course." Mr. Bergman waved his hand as if to dismiss the subject. "Conrad isn't really dressed formally you see. It's just that- Well...a man like Conrad Birdie can afford to be stylish on or off the stage." He folded his hands in his lap and smiled at the young woman.

"I see." The editor flipped open the notepad that was sitting on her lap and picked up her pen. "Well, Mr. Birdie, it's very nice to meet you." She held out her hand.

Conrad shook it and started to open his mouth to answer when Mr. Bergman leaned forward in his chair and answered for him. "He's very pleased to meet you too, Miss... um...Miss..."

"Hale," she provided, "Violet Hale. Now, if you don't mind, I'd prefer that you let Conrad answer for himself during the interview process, Mr. Bergman. After all," she continued, "He is the subject of my interview."

"Oh yes, of course Miss Hale." Mr. Bergman replied, sinking back into his chair.

"Thank you." Violet turned to face Conrad, "Now, Mr. Birdie, are you ready to begin the interview?"

"Ye-"

Mr. Bergman answered before Conrad could finish. "Of course he's ready. Why, he's never been so ready in all his life."

Violet shot him an angry glance before turning back to her subject. "Okay. Well, let's begin." She looked down at her notepad. "Mr. Birdie, what is your real name, first, middle, and last?"

"Co-"

Once again, Conrad's manager did not allow him to finish. "Oh, come on! Everybody knows his name already. Conrad Nathaniel Birdie. That's his name. Oh, and enough with the formalities, call him Conrad, everyone else does."

Conrad caught his manager looking at him and agreed, "Uh, yeah, that's it. What he said."

Violet rolled her eyes. "Okay, I guess that is a silly question. We'll move on then. So, Mr. Bir- uh, Conrad, when is your birthday?"

"Aug-"

"His birthday is August fourteenth."

Again Conrad caught the look his manager gave him. "It's like he said. The fourteenth."

Violet glared angrily at the manager. "Mr. Bergman, please. I would appreciate it if you would let Mr. Birdie answer for himself."

"He is answering." Mr. Bergman insisted. "Didn't you hear him? He said I was right, his birthday is the fourteenth of August."

The remainder of the interview went on in much the same way. Though Conrad was used to this sort of thing, he found himself feeling somewhat peeved. Usually, if his manager did most of the talking, Conrad felt he was being saved the trouble of rambling through the same boring answers to the same old questions, but this time was different. Conrad really wanted to talk to Miss Hale.

"Well," Violet stood to leave. "I guess I've done about as well as I can under the circumstances." She glared at Mr. Bergman and continued, "Anyway, I will be in touch sometime within the next week or so to take pictures for the article." She closed her notebook and looked at Birdie, "So, if you think of anything else that might be of interest for the interview, you can let me know then."

*Wording from draft notice taken from Vietnam era draft notice pictured at: .