Pop Star Quistis
BEEP!!! BEEP!!! BEEP!!! Quistis Trepe rolled over and groaned.
BEEP!!! BEEP!!! BEEP!!! She pulled her pillow over her head.
BEEP!!! BEEP!!! BEEP!!! Her tousled blond head snapped up off the mattress, and a cream-colored hand slammed down on the "SNOOZE" button. Stupid, obnoxious alarm clock. She ought to burn the damned thing.
She rolled over and sat up. It ws so quiet in this hotel. Probably 'cause no one knew she was here yet.
Swinging her legs over the side of the hotel bed, she heard faint footsteps approaching from down the hall.
BAM!!! BAM!!! BAM!!! "Miss Trepe!" a singsong voice on the other side of her door. Marcus Wysohg, her personal makeup artist. She glanced at her clock again. 5:03 in the freakin' morning, and somebody wanted to do her makeup.
BAM!!! BAM!!! BAM!!! "Miss Trepe?"
She sighed. She didn't think she'd ever get over this schedule.
Ever since she had been discovered at Balamb Garden, singing a beautiful song called "Eyes On Me" for Selphie Tilmitt's little stage show, she had been approached by about tons of different record labels, wanting her to make music and cut tracks with them. Well, she adored to sing, and she was tired of dragging Seifer Almasy to class every morning, so, hell, why not? Try something new for once, right?
Wrong. It had been nasty ever since! Well, except for her live performances. They gave her a natural high. But other than that, she had this vicious schedule to deal with every morning.
Wake up at five.
Have Mr. I'm-So-Horribly-Cheerful-This-Morning bamming on her door.
Having her long blond hair yanked out by the roots by her hair stylist. She had to admit, though, she did look great 24/7! That was a plus.
BAM!!! BAM!!! BAM!!! "Miss Trepe, are you alive in there?"
She groaned. She should leave him out there all day.
"Coming, Marcus," she called to him. She yanked on her robe and shuffled to her door barefoot.
As soon as it was opened, in popped Merry Sunshine, with his huge black makeup bag. Ugh. Too early for him to be smiling like that.
He flicked on all the lights in the room, making Quistis squint. She pasted on a smile for him and sat down at the small vanity her agent had ordered be put in the room for her.
"So, how's the superstar doing this morning?" Marcus inquired, pulling a small white sponge and a container of foundation out of his bag.
Quistis smiled warily at him. "Sleepy," she finally said, and Marcus giggled. "What's today's schedule, anyway?"
"Oh," replied Marcus,"you have the concert in Dollet, and we have sound check over in Timber for....oh, sometime this week."
Knock knock knock.
Quistis recognized the timid little taps and instructed her hair stylist into the room.
"Good morning, Miss Trepe!" trilled Shelia Loehman as she breezed into the room smelling of hairspray and Herbal Essences.
"Good morning, Sheila," Quistis smiled at her, then had to close her eyes for Marcus to sponge her brow.
Shelia had just gotten started on Quistis' long locks when the manager popped in the now open door.
"Quistis?" he said.
She looked at him from under Marcus' blush brush and several locks of hair that had been temporarily clipped to cover her left eye.
"Yes?" she inquired.
He grinned at her. "We just had a call from someone named Selphie Tilmitt."
Quistis popped up. "Selphie Tilmitt? Are you sure? Has anything happened? Is everyone OK?"
Her manager, who by the way was known as Mike Acthn, laughed and said,"Calm down! No, everything is fine. She just called and booked you, Quistis."
Quistis brushed hair out of her eyes and studied him. "She did what?" she uttered in a low voice.
"Booked you," he said calmly. "Booked you for a show tomorrow night. Something about a Garden... Festival?"
BEEP!!! BEEP!!! BEEP!!! Quistis Trepe rolled over and groaned.
BEEP!!! BEEP!!! BEEP!!! She pulled her pillow over her head.
BEEP!!! BEEP!!! BEEP!!! Her tousled blond head snapped up off the mattress, and a cream-colored hand slammed down on the "SNOOZE" button. Stupid, obnoxious alarm clock. She ought to burn the damned thing.
She rolled over and sat up. It ws so quiet in this hotel. Probably 'cause no one knew she was here yet.
Swinging her legs over the side of the hotel bed, she heard faint footsteps approaching from down the hall.
BAM!!! BAM!!! BAM!!! "Miss Trepe!" a singsong voice on the other side of her door. Marcus Wysohg, her personal makeup artist. She glanced at her clock again. 5:03 in the freakin' morning, and somebody wanted to do her makeup.
BAM!!! BAM!!! BAM!!! "Miss Trepe?"
She sighed. She didn't think she'd ever get over this schedule.
Ever since she had been discovered at Balamb Garden, singing a beautiful song called "Eyes On Me" for Selphie Tilmitt's little stage show, she had been approached by about tons of different record labels, wanting her to make music and cut tracks with them. Well, she adored to sing, and she was tired of dragging Seifer Almasy to class every morning, so, hell, why not? Try something new for once, right?
Wrong. It had been nasty ever since! Well, except for her live performances. They gave her a natural high. But other than that, she had this vicious schedule to deal with every morning.
Wake up at five.
Have Mr. I'm-So-Horribly-Cheerful-This-Morning bamming on her door.
Having her long blond hair yanked out by the roots by her hair stylist. She had to admit, though, she did look great 24/7! That was a plus.
BAM!!! BAM!!! BAM!!! "Miss Trepe, are you alive in there?"
She groaned. She should leave him out there all day.
"Coming, Marcus," she called to him. She yanked on her robe and shuffled to her door barefoot.
As soon as it was opened, in popped Merry Sunshine, with his huge black makeup bag. Ugh. Too early for him to be smiling like that.
He flicked on all the lights in the room, making Quistis squint. She pasted on a smile for him and sat down at the small vanity her agent had ordered be put in the room for her.
"So, how's the superstar doing this morning?" Marcus inquired, pulling a small white sponge and a container of foundation out of his bag.
Quistis smiled warily at him. "Sleepy," she finally said, and Marcus giggled. "What's today's schedule, anyway?"
"Oh," replied Marcus,"you have the concert in Dollet, and we have sound check over in Timber for....oh, sometime this week."
Knock knock knock.
Quistis recognized the timid little taps and instructed her hair stylist into the room.
"Good morning, Miss Trepe!" trilled Shelia Loehman as she breezed into the room smelling of hairspray and Herbal Essences.
"Good morning, Sheila," Quistis smiled at her, then had to close her eyes for Marcus to sponge her brow.
Shelia had just gotten started on Quistis' long locks when the manager popped in the now open door.
"Quistis?" he said.
She looked at him from under Marcus' blush brush and several locks of hair that had been temporarily clipped to cover her left eye.
"Yes?" she inquired.
He grinned at her. "We just had a call from someone named Selphie Tilmitt."
Quistis popped up. "Selphie Tilmitt? Are you sure? Has anything happened? Is everyone OK?"
Her manager, who by the way was known as Mike Acthn, laughed and said,"Calm down! No, everything is fine. She just called and booked you, Quistis."
Quistis brushed hair out of her eyes and studied him. "She did what?" she uttered in a low voice.
"Booked you," he said calmly. "Booked you for a show tomorrow night. Something about a Garden... Festival?"