Chapter 4
SPOV
Can you say intervention? Well that seems to be exactly what I am looking at. Do they even have nightmare interventions? All three of my guys are here, even Pam has graced us with her presence. I look to the door and wonder if I can make it. A mental image of me tickling Sam to get around him, then stealthily avoiding Tray by making a jump to the left and bypass Alcide with a step to the right. Then flash something shiny at Pam as I make my way out of the room, down the hall and out of the hotel in nothing but a towel. I smile to myself. Then I notice Tray shake his head no at me.
Hmm, maybe that won't work. Fuck! I sit down and pouted, like the little bitch they all know I can be. "Well, you've all cornered me. Are you just going to sit there and stare at me too or are you going to say something?" Pam decides to go first.
"Like I said earlier, it's time to do an interview." At first, I'm excited that it looks as though I will be getting out of the intervention talk. The interview topic was definitely the lesser of the two evils, or so I thought. "But I was thinking it should be something more. Instead of doing several interviews, there will be one reporter doing a start to finish on you and the band. Since the tour will be over in about 12 hours or so, the interview will follow the next album from start to finish. That way you will feel more comfortable, only having to talk to 1 person as opposed to the 100 that have requested an interview." Why on God's green earth is she smirking at me like she's done me a huge favor. I said I'd think about 1 interview not my own personal stalker for 3 months. Shit, it is only 3 months isn't it.
"Pam, you seem to have forgotten that I don't want to do 1 interview let alone an entire series of them. You said I had the next 3 months off, before we needed to start the next album. Are you telling me that we don't get that time off now?" I'm gonna strangle her. Fuck, I needed the time off so I would have the mental capacity to even think about writing the next album. All the writing for this album was done during my break last time, so that by the time we hit the studio it was only a matter of tweaking a few things.
"Of course, you get your 3 months, Sookie. The reporter will meet with you every couple of weeks, or so, to record the first part of the album making process- the song writing. And since he'll already be there he can interview you about you. Then he can do more in depth interviews on the guys once the band heads back into the studio. By the end of the whole process, all of you will be so comfortable with him around that you'll hardly notice it when he's there for the next tour." My heart is now beating out of my chest, Tray sees my panic and takes my hand. But Pam's not finished yet. "He's signed all of the confidentiality agreements and you have final say on every article he writes."
Well a couple words seem to be sticking with me after her last sentence. Words like signed and he. Is this already a done deal? Not to mention 1 hypothetical interview has turned into the next 2 years of my life with the end result being a step by step guide to how fucking crazy I am. Before I can ask anything, Tray seems to have locked in on the same words I have.
"Pam, who is he? What confidentiality agreement? And what the fuck are you thinking? It is insane for you to think that Sookie should have to put up with someone she doesn't even know for 2 years, instead of doing the 1 article we all agreed should be done." At least now I know it was only Pam's aspirations to put me in the loony bin and that the guys aren't in on this insanity.
"Tray you're acting like I haven't thought this through. I know the reporter and trust him, I would never expose Sookie to someone I didn't trust." Why do I feeling like a child of divorce listening to their parents bicker over the way I should be raised. And yet, I can't bring myself to speak, its like watching a train wreck, but I'm the train. I know they're still speaking, but I am no longer paying attention to them. My anger seems to be getting the best of me as a few more pieces of the last 24 hours seem to fall into to place.
As calmly as I can, I ask Pam. "Who wrote the article I showed you?" God I hope I am wrong about her.
Since she's currently arguing with Tray she answers me automatically and keeps pleading her case to Tray.
"Pam, who is the reporter you want to follow us?" I ask, again as calmly as possible. She answers again like a mother answering their child on auto pilot, not wanting to interrupt her own conversation. Her answer is confirming my worst fears, that I have been betrayed. Tray has heard both of her answers and has already caught up to where my mind has led me. Lucky for Pam, he knows me as well as he does. If it weren't for Tray, Pam would have had her ass knocked out cold. It was only a split second after Pam answered my second question that I was airborne, then promptly restrained by Tray.
"Let me go Tray, she sold me out to a fucking reporter, I am going to fuck her up!" I screamed.
I watch realization come across Pam's face that she may have bitten off more then she could chew.
"Sookie, I didn't sell you out I swear, I didn't. I know it may seem that way right now. If you calm down I will explain everything to you, all of you." Tray is still holding on to me even after I tell her she can continue. My look around the room confirms she has no allies here and if she did fuck me over, it's not only me she has to deal with.
She tells us an old college friend was assigned to do an article on True Blood and contacted her hoping she might be able to get him an interview or some insider tidbits. She claims she refused to get him the interview or the tidbits. He called her a week later, letting her know about Compton's interview. And as a friend, thought she might want to know about Compton because the tool had said a few things during their interview that bothered him. After talking it over with him for a while Pam realized it was going to be necessary for me to do an interview.
Since her friend had called her and gave up a good chunk of his story to help her out (and by extention me), she thought that maybe she should return the favor by giving him my first personal interview. It wasn't until she was off the phone that she realized the benefit of having a reporter she trusted do an exclusive on me and the band. Pam thought that if we were to basically hire our own reporter, then we could control the situation a little easier. Maybe not stopping another reporter from getting an interview with Compton (or anyone else in that fucking town either), but possibly burying it under a bunch of one on one articles. God, I really didn't want to think about what was in that interview.
I hated that I agreed with her logic and had Tray let me go. I righted my towel and sat back down. Sam and Alcide had been watching everything go on the for the last hour and waited to see if I was going to come to the same conclusion everyone else had.
"Fine Pam. When do I have to meet this reporter?"
"He'll be backstage after the concert tonight, you all can meet him then." She had kept her face blank and left saying she had things to take care of for tonight. And with that she was gone. After getting dressed, I told the guys I was going to my room to get ready for tonight. I just needed to be alone and thankfully they let me go.
"Suuuuuusaaaaanna." I hear familiar voice trying wake me from my sleepy state. "Suuuuuusieeeee, my Suuuuusieeee Q ooh ooh ooh, ooh ooh."
"God, Alc, please stop singing. You really suck at it." I groan.
"Come on Sookie, it's time to get up. It's time to get ready to rock n roll." He is bouncing me all over the bed now. I look up at him and can't help smiling at his excited grin.
"Okay, okay I'm up. So did you pull the short stick or what?" I really thought that they'd send in Pam as their sacrificial lamb.
"Yep, I won." he sounds entirely too happy considering he was sent to the slaughter. "And since you've been such a good girl lately, we all decided you needed a little present." Ah the bribe.
"I already told you Alcide, it was a one time thing, I was drunk and it's not going to happen again." I tease.
"I love that you think giving me head would be a present for you from all of us. Maybe we should try it again?" He suggests.
"Oh no, I don't think so. I really don't need anymore metal pins in my wrist from whoever is currently stalking you?"
"First of all, Maria- Star is not a stalker. Secondly, she and I been seeing each other for more then a week. And lastly, you know you're the only stalker I want." Ever the opportunist, that boy.
I decide to get this conversation back on track. "So then what's this great surprise you all have deemed worthy of my attention?" He's back to that shit eating grin of his.
"Oh, I can't tell you what it is, just that there is one." Oh that little fucking tease. "And the sooner you get ready, the sooner you get to know what it is. It will be waiting for you in the dressing room at the stadium." We were interrupted by a knock on the door. Alcide leaves my suite, as he lets them in. A look to the clock let's me know it's Janice. We hired Alcide's sister after she got divorced a couple of years ago. She does all my hair and make-up. She also hangs out back stage to help me with any wardrobe changes or malfunctions during the concerts. I spend the next 2 hours with Janice getting my hair and make up done. Sadly for me, she doesn't know anything about a surprise. Once I am tied into my leather corset, I throw on a pair of black skinny jeans, my black zip up hoodie and my fuzzy pink slippers. All of my on stage outfits are waiting in the dressing room at the venue. The corset goes on before we leave the hotel so that it has a chance to stretch before I have to perform. We meet my security outside the door to my suite and head down the service elevator to the waiting limos. Everyone else is already there and ready to go.
After spending the majority of the ride trying to get Sam to tell me what my surprise is, I finally give up. I almost had him, but Alcide put a stop to it by passing Sam a joint. I decide to pass the time looking outside my window, I watch as we approach the stadium and see something that looks like a tent city.
"Shit Tray, have you seen this bullshit?" I ask. Everyone turns to see what I am looking at.
"Looks like Newland's here." He says taking a deep breath.
"Hey, you guys realize that with how close they are to the stadium, they'll be able to hear the whole show." I say laughing. Everyone is chuckling at the idea of Newland and his followers listening to a True Blood concert. Hmm, I can work with this.
With only an hour left before the show starts, Pam leaves to get her "shit done." And I start looking for my surprise.
"Hey Sook, did you loose something?" Tray asks. I ignore his taunting and keep up my hunt.
"You aren't going to find what you're looking for." Alcide chuckles.
"You don't know that." I reply.
"Yeah he does, Sook, she's not here yet." Sam chimes in. Tray and Alcide swing their heads around to look at Sam. Then we all wait for the light bulb moment we know all hope is coming. And there it is with a smack to his own forehead. "Shit, guys I'm so sorry. But it's not like I told her Joan Jett's coming." Yep, another face palm and a groan from Tray and Alcide. I am currently doubled over laughing at all three of them when it finally clicks. Holy shit, Joan Jett is coming.
Now every rock star has that one band, or in my case the one person, that got them hooked to music first and Joan Jett is that person for me. Now the guys were laughing at me and my fan girl hysteria. I about had a heart attack when someone knocked on the door. And when the door opened to show that it was in fact Joan Jett I knew I was definitely going to have a heart attack. Everyone got up to introduce themselves to her, while I stood there frozen. It wasn't til Tray introduced me that I finally spoke.
"I cannot believe I am actually meeting you, this is so fucking surreal." Not too bad, I'm not crying, screaming or jumping up and down in front of my very own rock idol. That's a good thing, a very good thing.
"It's great to meet you too. I really enjoy your music. I can't wait to get up there with you tonight. Did you guys decide what song we were doing?" Is the room spinning? Did she just say that I get to perform with her? Holy shit.
"5 minutes." We hear through the dressing room door. After I calmed down we changed our play list and I got to do my vocal warm ups with fucking JOAN JETT! The guys head out to take their places and I'm taken to the platform above the stage.
Over my black leather corset I have on my 1940s pinup style sailor outfit. The corset, my thigh high fish nets and garters are pretty much my last costume so it's the base of my other 2 outfits. The guys start playing before the lights come up. The crowd cheers and starts clapping along. As the lights come up, I get lowered down to the stage in my metal cage. I make my way from there to the mic clapping my hands above my head. The first song… "Do You Wanna Touch Me."
Joan Jett meets me center stage and we switch off singing, the crowd is delirious, FUCK, so I am. I sing the song in pure euphoria. When we finish, I thank Joan for her a appearance and ask her to join me for another one of her songs that I'd like to dedicate to the special audience listening outside the stadium. At the start of "Bad Reputation" I see the pit in the audience start up. God I love my job!
We end up playing for the next 2 hours. We say goodnight to all of our fans and end the tour with the one last encore. I'm down to my black leather corset, micro mini leather skirt, fish nets, garters and 5 inch platform thigh high boots. They stage crew has set up my stool in the center of the stage. I pick up my guitar and wave goodbye to the rest of the band before I start my last song. "This is one of my favorite Lenard Cohen songs." The entire audience falls quiet when I start playing my guitar.
I remember you well in the Chelsea Hotel,
you were talking so brave and so sweet,
giving me head on the unmade bed,
while the limousines wait in the street.
Those were the reasons and that was New York,
we were running for the money and the flesh.
And that was called love for the workers in song
probably still is for those of them left.
Ah but you got away, didn't you babe,
you just turned your back on the crowd,
you got away, I never once heard you say,
I need you, I don't need you,
I need you, I don't need you
and all of that jiving around.
I remember you well in the Chelsea Hotel
you were famous, your heart was a legend.
You told me again you preferred handsome men
but for me you would make an exception.
And clenching your fist for the ones like us
who are oppressed by the figures of beauty,
you fixed yourself, you said, "Well never mind,
we are ugly but we have the music."
And then you got away, didn't you babe...
you just turned your back on the crowd,
you got away, I never once heard you say,
I need you, I don't need you,
I need you, I don't need you
and all of that jiving around.
I don't mean to suggest that I loved you the best,
I can't keep track of each fallen robin.
I remember you well in the Chelsea Hotel,
that's all, I don't even think of you that often.
So I will tell you that yes Eric is the reporter, I really didn't mean to make it such a big secret. But from Sookie's point of view a no name reporter just wasn't important. It was the reason he had to be there that was causing her panties to twist, with good reason. OKAY, so do I bribe you with an Eric POV in the next chapter for reviews or do I trust that you'll do me a solid and review on your own because you just might like what you've read so far. Come on you know you want to. Right?
The peoples all belong to CH. Obviously unbeta'd, all my own screw ups. But if you catch and big ones like me calling Tray Alcide or vice versa let me know. And since no one is dead I can't accidentally bring them back to life.