A/N: Does anyone know the name of the club where Arthur interviewed Mandy? I can't remember. Please tell me in a review if you do! Thanks
Mandy's club was crowded. Apparently there were more refugees from glam rock living in New York than Arthur knew. Or perhaps it was just Curt that drew them there, with his magnetic stare and mesmerizing music.
Mandy herself stood at the bar, a drink in her hand. She looked more like the Mandy he recognized from the old days, hair curled lightly and make-up applied. He approached the bar slowly, leaned against it next to Mandy and ordered Scotch on the rocks, like he'd had the other day. Mandy looked over at him. "You're that journalist."
"Arthur Stuart," he replied.
She dismissed his name as insignificant and continued. "Back for more copy?"
"No. I'm here for the concert."
"Really? I didn't know you were a fan."
Arthur stared down into his drink. "A long time ago."
She accepted his answer. After a few moments of silence, she murmured, "You know what today is." Arthur nodded tersely. It hadn't escaped him that it was the tenth anniversary of Maxwell Demon's apparent demise. "It's always been hard on him. He and Brian… It wasn't just the fall of his lover. It was the death of their dreams." She was silent for a moment. "I think it helps him to play. Releases something."
Arthur understood. If there was anything he knew about, it was the death of dreams too wonderful to come true. Looking away from Mandy, he focused on the group onstage. They reminded him of the Flaming Creatures, and for the first time in a while, he wondered what had happened to his old roommates.
Their song ended while Arthur was still caught up in his thoughts and if Mandy hadn't nudged him, there was a good possibility that he wouldn't have looked up for a while. He was glad he did.
Curt moved across stage. He was in tight leather pants- in Arthur's mind he wouldn't have been Curt Wild without them- and they looked as good on him as they had ten years before. His hair was down, alternately pink and blue and green, depending on the whim of the stage lights. He was shirtless- which was also his trademark, it seemed. His body was still sculpted, fit. The years hadn't touched him.
The only other time Arthur had seen him perform was at the Death of Glitter concert. He had been raw then, full of despair and unchecked rage. He'd poured it into his song, giving it all he got. And in return he got applause and adoration, but not one person that understood him.
This time it was different. There was no rage in his eyes, a surprising lack of despair, considering the date. Instead there was a warm glow in there, and Arthur would have done anything to know what caused it.
The music started. It was passionate and loud, that hadn't changed. Curt's voice rolled over him, rich and full, and Arthur was seventeen again, watching his idol, awed and inspired.
Mandy's club was crowded. Apparently there were more refugees from glam rock living in New York than Arthur knew. Or perhaps it was just Curt that drew them there, with his magnetic stare and mesmerizing music.
Mandy herself stood at the bar, a drink in her hand. She looked more like the Mandy he recognized from the old days, hair curled lightly and make-up applied. He approached the bar slowly, leaned against it next to Mandy and ordered Scotch on the rocks, like he'd had the other day. Mandy looked over at him. "You're that journalist."
"Arthur Stuart," he replied.
She dismissed his name as insignificant and continued. "Back for more copy?"
"No. I'm here for the concert."
"Really? I didn't know you were a fan."
Arthur stared down into his drink. "A long time ago."
She accepted his answer. After a few moments of silence, she murmured, "You know what today is." Arthur nodded tersely. It hadn't escaped him that it was the tenth anniversary of Maxwell Demon's apparent demise. "It's always been hard on him. He and Brian… It wasn't just the fall of his lover. It was the death of their dreams." She was silent for a moment. "I think it helps him to play. Releases something."
Arthur understood. If there was anything he knew about, it was the death of dreams too wonderful to come true. Looking away from Mandy, he focused on the group onstage. They reminded him of the Flaming Creatures, and for the first time in a while, he wondered what had happened to his old roommates.
Their song ended while Arthur was still caught up in his thoughts and if Mandy hadn't nudged him, there was a good possibility that he wouldn't have looked up for a while. He was glad he did.
Curt moved across stage. He was in tight leather pants- in Arthur's mind he wouldn't have been Curt Wild without them- and they looked as good on him as they had ten years before. His hair was down, alternately pink and blue and green, depending on the whim of the stage lights. He was shirtless- which was also his trademark, it seemed. His body was still sculpted, fit. The years hadn't touched him.
The only other time Arthur had seen him perform was at the Death of Glitter concert. He had been raw then, full of despair and unchecked rage. He'd poured it into his song, giving it all he got. And in return he got applause and adoration, but not one person that understood him.
This time it was different. There was no rage in his eyes, a surprising lack of despair, considering the date. Instead there was a warm glow in there, and Arthur would have done anything to know what caused it.
The music started. It was passionate and loud, that hadn't changed. Curt's voice rolled over him, rich and full, and Arthur was seventeen again, watching his idol, awed and inspired.
