Chapter One: Just A Memory
Brian's fear of getting old was really getting old. He walked the crowded streets, alone and rather bored with what was going on around him. He remembered the spotlight and what it felt like to be center stage...and to be loved. That's what he missed most. Being loved. Some people say that broken hearts never mend, others say it does with time. Well, Brian knew that it had been five years, and he hadn't mended yet. Not being sure he ever would, Brian remained in mourning.
Shadows now suited him well. So did his long trench coat, pulled up collar, sunglasses and hat. They hid the ship-wreck of a man that still lingered inside his body. No more glitter. No more glamour. That was a part of him that had died. And that was the part he sorely missed.
But the world wasn't interested in glam rock anymore. His records were sold on clearance racks, as many other glam-rocker's. Had he really spent so long defying his engine to the point that it would break? Had he really not learned anything, in all those years? Fame was so inviting. It was like a rose, beautiful. But then, once he'd reached it's height, it showed it's true colours, pricked him with it's thorns. And he still wanted it. There was that dire need in him to be a star.
The records that once gave Brian Slade comfort were now no more than a memory. Yet they lingered. Pent up in his small apartment, even Mandy or Jerry, anyone from the old gang was welcome. Just a "hello". Just someone who cares. Well, if he had learned anything, it was the thin line between silver and gray. And on he walked. Passed the Lyceum theatre, where all of his misery began and ended. No one even looked at him twice. Just another man... Brian wasn't sure what he would do if they recognized him.
And he continued to walk.
Then, something caught his eye. A banner, a poster... two words: Curt Wilde. Brian's heart beat faster as he looked at the flyer. It read: CURT WILDE! at the Lyceum Theatre, Goodbye concert! Tickets are £45 in advance or £60 at the door. November 12 & 13.
"Goodbye concert?" Brian wondered aloud. "Glam's been dead for a while, my old friend." And he tore down the flyer and stuffed it in his pocket. He waked brusquely down the street now, mind and heart racing. No, he wouldn't go. Yes, he would, just for old time's sake...and another look. Goodbye concert indeed. But going would risk revealing himself to public. He couldn't go, not even for old time's sake. And still, there was a nagging... A feeling, a whim, if you will, to go. Perhaps.
Finding his way home, Brian went inside and put the poster on the table. He stared at it. There was no picture, only words. Curt Wilde...here in London. Curt in London. Two days from now. Two performances. Brian flicked on his TV, to the entertainment channel. A reporter, young, female, probably worthy to be corrupted (he licked his lips) said, "...Wilde is retired from the music business. Jack Fairy, his long time friend refuses to comment on whether it is because a recent breakup. Wilde says..." The scene switched to Curt, who said, "I dunno. It's not really up for discussion." Then back to the reporter.
Brian's mouth grew dry. He had to go.
Brian's fear of getting old was really getting old. He walked the crowded streets, alone and rather bored with what was going on around him. He remembered the spotlight and what it felt like to be center stage...and to be loved. That's what he missed most. Being loved. Some people say that broken hearts never mend, others say it does with time. Well, Brian knew that it had been five years, and he hadn't mended yet. Not being sure he ever would, Brian remained in mourning.
Shadows now suited him well. So did his long trench coat, pulled up collar, sunglasses and hat. They hid the ship-wreck of a man that still lingered inside his body. No more glitter. No more glamour. That was a part of him that had died. And that was the part he sorely missed.
But the world wasn't interested in glam rock anymore. His records were sold on clearance racks, as many other glam-rocker's. Had he really spent so long defying his engine to the point that it would break? Had he really not learned anything, in all those years? Fame was so inviting. It was like a rose, beautiful. But then, once he'd reached it's height, it showed it's true colours, pricked him with it's thorns. And he still wanted it. There was that dire need in him to be a star.
The records that once gave Brian Slade comfort were now no more than a memory. Yet they lingered. Pent up in his small apartment, even Mandy or Jerry, anyone from the old gang was welcome. Just a "hello". Just someone who cares. Well, if he had learned anything, it was the thin line between silver and gray. And on he walked. Passed the Lyceum theatre, where all of his misery began and ended. No one even looked at him twice. Just another man... Brian wasn't sure what he would do if they recognized him.
And he continued to walk.
Then, something caught his eye. A banner, a poster... two words: Curt Wilde. Brian's heart beat faster as he looked at the flyer. It read: CURT WILDE! at the Lyceum Theatre, Goodbye concert! Tickets are £45 in advance or £60 at the door. November 12 & 13.
"Goodbye concert?" Brian wondered aloud. "Glam's been dead for a while, my old friend." And he tore down the flyer and stuffed it in his pocket. He waked brusquely down the street now, mind and heart racing. No, he wouldn't go. Yes, he would, just for old time's sake...and another look. Goodbye concert indeed. But going would risk revealing himself to public. He couldn't go, not even for old time's sake. And still, there was a nagging... A feeling, a whim, if you will, to go. Perhaps.
Finding his way home, Brian went inside and put the poster on the table. He stared at it. There was no picture, only words. Curt Wilde...here in London. Curt in London. Two days from now. Two performances. Brian flicked on his TV, to the entertainment channel. A reporter, young, female, probably worthy to be corrupted (he licked his lips) said, "...Wilde is retired from the music business. Jack Fairy, his long time friend refuses to comment on whether it is because a recent breakup. Wilde says..." The scene switched to Curt, who said, "I dunno. It's not really up for discussion." Then back to the reporter.
Brian's mouth grew dry. He had to go.