Going back to Red's was like tripping on acid. This time, not under the influence of Ecstasy, Chris's mind was still in a blur. The music was loud; transcendent Indian sitars melded with the heavy synthesizers in an intoxicating blend of music genres. The air was thick with perfumes, violet and hazy with the smoke. Lights burned down upon them all, making their grinding bodies glisten with sweat. The clubbers, in their strange themed costumes, spun wildly, drank, laughed, sang, and seduced. This time, Chris noticed a French maid, a fairy, and that same baby doll who had been there two nights before. Di had disappeared upstairs and told him he'd just have to wait to see her.


"Has she fucked your brains out yet?" Theo asked.
"What?" Chris turned a stunned look on his friend.
"You heard me. Have you done the horizontal tango?"
Pixie laughed. "The's just a teeny bit stoned. Don't answer him, Chris."
"I wasn't going to."
"Di's an amazing fuck."
"You would know." Pixie snorted.
"I do."
"No you don't. Di wouldn't give you the time of day."
The waterfall of glitter cascading from the sky, signaling Di's entrance, cut Theo off. And once again, Marilyn's breathy vocals were chopped, twisted, and mixed until a strange, unearthly noise blared from the speakers. "The French are glad to die for love...they delight in fighting duels."
Di, wearing a red, lacy corset top and a short black skirt, sauntered up to her platform and laid her hands on the tables.
Chris wasn't paying attention to the dancers or to the music. He wasn't moving, was barely breathing, even. His eyes were glued on her.
His Diamond.


After she'd danced, sang, and DJ'ed for what seemed like hours, Di finally escaped. Her ears rang in the silence of Red's upper floor and she wiped sweat from her forehead. Her fingers were raw and they hurt like hell.
But all was forgotten when she opened her dressing room door and saw Chris there with his guitar, oblivious to her presence. His long fingers moved skillfully on the vibrating strings as he played a complex riff that had to have been something he was just making up.
"Hey." She whispered, coming in. Chris didn't hear her until she finally gave him a playful smack. "I said hey."
"Hi." He pulled her close and kissed her.
"Don't kiss me; I stink." She laughed and pushed him away. "Guess what?"
"What?"
"You're magnificent on the guitar and I found myself an agent."
"Oh, thanks." He paused for a moment. "You found yourself what?"
"An agent. Harold Ziedfield. He's coming up here to hear us."
"Thanks for the notice." He said.
"We can pull it off." She sidled up to him and placed a feathery kiss on his cheek.
"What time is your agent coming?"
"In an hour."
"Good." Chris murmured into her hair. "Then we have time for just a little fun..."


When Harold Ziedfield knocked on the door of Di's dressing room and heard the "Come in!" he found two people sitting on the couch, several feet apart from each other. Chris and Di hadn't wanted him to know about their relationship quite yet. And they didn't look a thing like two lovers who had just finished a pretty steamy "horizontal tango" as Theo had put it earlier.
Harold grinned broadly as the sweetly dressed Di came up to him and offered her hand. "Hi. I'm Di."
"I'm Harold Ziedfield, dear." He beamed.
"This is my partner, Chris Foster." The two men shook hands and Di told Harold to sit wherever he wanted. He did so, putting his hands on his plump stomach, and grinned.
"Okay," he said, clearing his throat. "Let's get straight to business, shall we?"
Di nodded agreement.
"With the right relationship between us, the right music, the right talent and the little bit of charisma, stardom is almost guaranteed. Got that, chickpea?"
"Got it."
He handed her a piece of paper from his red leather briefcase and she looked through it. "Sounds good to me." Di said once she'd finished reading. "I'd like Chris to look through it as well, if you don't mind?"
"Go ahead."
Di let him read the piece of paper, which simply stated Harold's terms and had a place for Di's signature below Harold's. "Does it look fair to you, Chris?" She asked.
"Yes."
"Good. Then you'll sign?"
"I think so." Di grabbed a pink pen from her desk and scrawled her name, "S. Diamond Casablanca." Chris wondered what the S was for and decided he would ask her later. "Can Chris sign?" She asked.
"Of course. You are a team, aren't you?"
Di winked at Chris when Harold looked away. He wrote his own name, "Christian Andrew Foster" on the blank provided and handed it to Harold.
"Now, could you play for me? Chris, from what Di has told me, you're quite the guitar player."
"And songwriter," Di added.
"She likes to give me a little too much credit, as you can see." Chris shrugged, picking up his guitar and playing a few chords to warm up.
"This isn't original," Di began. "We haven't had time to work up any of our original songs, so here before you is our rendition of "Glycerine" by Bush."
Di began to sing along with Chris's scintillating guitar. "It must be your skin that I'm sinking in; must be for real cause now I can feel."
Harold's eyes were glued on her as she sang, her face lit up and her voice melodic, smooth, and seductive. "And I didn't mind, it's not my kind. It's not my time to wonder why..."

"I hope they aren't a couple," Harold thought to himself. "If they are, Richard Duke will be furious. He likes to test out his rising young stars before they get signed. And Roxanne Records is the best company around...What a talent both have. She's gorgeous and she sings. He's gorgeous and he writes music. I see stars! I see money!" He beamed ecstatically

They finished the song and Harold applauded enthusiastically when the two had finished. "Wonderful! Wonderful! Spectacular! Spectacular!"
"Thanks," Di looked down, a bit embarrassed, biting her lip.
"You make me see stars in the future, Miss Casablanca. Will I see you two tomorrow?"
"Sure. Where do you want us?"
"Do you know Theodore Lenius?"
Both nodded.
"Well, I've assigned him to the project of your very first photo shoot, Di."
"No kidding?"
"Can you be at his studio tomorrow? You too, Chris."
"Yeah, we can."
"Oh, and one last question before I leave. Are you two...involved?"
Di shook her head. "No, we're not." She lied.
"Okay. I will see you two tomorrow at about noon. Cheerio!" Harold gave Di a hug and shook Chris's hand, grinned happily, and left them alone in the dressing room.

"I don't like lying." Chris said.
"Me either, but did you see the look on his face? If we would have said yes, I wonder what he would have done."
"I still don't like the fact we're lying."
There was an uncomfortable moment of silence between them, and then Chris spoke up again. "Hey, Di-Girl, what's the S stand for in your name?"
"I knew you were going to ask that. Do I HAVE to tell you?"
He gave her sad puppy eyes and she laughed. "Okay, okay. It stands for...Susanna."
"Oh Susanna, oh, don't you cry for me!"
"Shut up! I hate it!" Di smacked Chris playfully to shut him up. "It's awful!"
"It's cute, Susie."
"Don't call me that..." Di warned. "I am Di, not Susanna."
"Okay...Susanna."
"If you call me that again, I swear that I will never ever kiss, touch, or fuck you ever again."
"Whoa!" Chris held up his hands in mock horror. "I promise!"
"Now kiss me and take me home." Di commanded, tilting her face as an invite. He did so and grabbed his car keys.
"C'mon, Princess Di, let's go home."

"C'mon, Di-Girl, work it!" Theo yelled, snapping pictures of Di in various poses. "Pout. Wink. Make looveeee to the camera."
Chris, watching the spectacle from Theo's side, whistled as Di wrapped herself in a faux tiger rug. She looked over at him and smiled sexily, licking her lips. "Porn star," Chris mouthed.
"All right, go change." Theo put down the camera and shooed her away. "Go put on the low black pants and the black top. Then go over to Natasha," he gestured to his black-haired assistant, "and let her do your makeup. Chris, you too. Go over to Nat and let her put some eyeliner on you and mess up your hair a little bit. I'm gonna use you in these few shots, 'kay?"
Chris, deciding the whole eyeliner thing wasn't so bad, nodded and let Natasha run some Bed Head gel through his hair and stencil some eyeliner on his eyes.
"It feels like you're writing on my eye!" He said. Natasha laughed and sprayed his face with something in a weird brush. "What's that?"
"It's just airbrush stuff." She answered. "Make your skin look flawless."
"Oh, sure." Chris was totally confused. "Makeup stuff."
"You're done."
Di emerged, wearing dangerously low black leather pants and a one-shouldered black lace top. Her hair was tousled and she hopped willingly into Nat's chair to get her makeup done. When she was finished, a crimson-lipped, dark-eyed seductress had taken her place. She purred like a jungle cat as she sidled over to Theo and said, "What do you want?"

"Okay, Di, let Chris sling his arm around your waist and grab his hand," Theo instructed, camera in hand. "And place it on your hip. Pull your pants down a little bit, girl. Show just a little stomach."
Di did as she was instructed, sliding Chris's hand seductively down her stomach. Unable to keep the straight, pouty face that Theo had told her to put on, she burst out laughing. Theo's camera flashed continuously, catching little intimate moments between the two. Chris gently cupping his hands around Di's face, the two of them staring into one another's eyes. Di playfully swatting away Chris as he leaned to kiss her. Di slung over Chris's shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Di pretending to play Chris's guitar and Chris pretending to sing.
"Chris, go away. This is just Di now." Theo grinned from behind his camera. "Di, go change your clothes. Put on those dark Capri pants and that short white shirt. Put your hair in a ponytail."
"Yes, Master." Di saluted Theo and ran off to change her clothes.

"You love her?" Theo asked, going over to the stereo and sliding in a few CDs.
"I do." Chris said, staring off after her.
"She's a nice girl," Nat added.
"Mmm hmm." Chris agreed.
Theo sang along with the Pet Shop Boys who were blasting from the stereo, singing the 80's pop hit "West End Girls." He did a little dance with Natasha while waiting for Di to finish changing. Finally, she did, her hair in a ponytail and her face scrubbed clean of makeup. Her button-down white shirt was tied to expose her flat stomach.
"West End Girls!" She exclaimed, a huge grin on her face. "I love this song!" She danced around the studio and let Theo take picture after picture.
The CDs changed and the soundtrack to Dirty Dancing came on. "I wonder where Harry is," Di mused.
"Oh! I forgot to tell you; he's not coming. You're supposed to meet him tonight at six at Red's, he said."
"Great." Di pouted. "Our day's shot, Chris."
"It's not shot yet. We have this whole photo shoot ahead of us..."
"So get started already!" Theo mock-complained. Di shot him a glare and he snapped her picture.
"Love..." Di began to sing along with the stereo, throwing a "come-hither" look Chris's way. "Love is strange. Lot of people take it for a game. Once you get it, you'll never wanna quit. Once you've had it, you're in an awful fix."
She crawled around the floor and singing, blinded by the flash of Theo's camera. "Come here," she mouthed to Chris. "Many people don't understand. They think lovin' is money in the hand."
Chris slid down beside her. "Your sweet loving is better than a kiss, but when you leave me, sweet kisses I miss."
Di stood and slyly sashayed away. "Sylvia?" Chris mouthed.
"Yes, Mickey?" Click, click, click went Theo's camera.
"How do you call your lover boy?"
"C'mere, loverboy!" She winked.
"And if he doesn't answer?"
"Oh loverboy!"
"And if he STILL doesn't answer?"
"I simply say..." She moved back to his side and rubbed her nose against his. "Baby, oh baby, my sweet baby, you're the one."
Chris sang along with her. "Baby, oh baby, my sweet baby, you're the one."
They ended the song in a kiss.
And Theo snapped away.


END OF CHAPTER 4

Thanks to: Madi, who inspired the Dirty Dancing part. I dedicate this chapter to everyone! I loveth you all! Guess who makes an appearance in the next chapter?
RICHARD DUKE!!!!!!!!!!
*scary music plays*