A/n Right, this is the reposted version. I didn't change anything major. I just changed the instruments and took care of some minor formatting. Hopefully it won't be screwed up when I post this…
The producer of Saturday Night Live scratched his head in puzzlement. "Saxophones? Vibes?" he said in wonderment. He rolled his tongue over the word 'vibes' as if he had never heard of the instrument. "Trumpets? Piano? Double bass? Mr. Fanel, I don't understand you. Why are you asking for such instruments? I thought Van played pop music."
"Rock," Folken corrected quickly. He indiscreetly stomped on Van's foot as his brother opened his mouth to loudly explain the difference between rock and pop. Van hated being referred to as a pop star. "And we did not request the instruments. We simply informed you that you would have to adjust your sound system to accommodate for such instruments, as your sound system is programmed for electric instruments. We also request that the set up of the stage be shifted so that all the musicians can fit in."
"I really wasn't expecting this. I'm willing to change the program since it doesn't violate the contract but—"
"Well, sir, I'm afraid my client—" Folken began.
"Client? I thought Van was your brother?"
"I'm afraid so, sir," Folken said gravely. He sighed in frustration and drew himself up, switching into manager mode. "My client wishes to perform unreleased music, and this music just happens to involve a piano, trumpet, vibes, a double string bass, saxophone, guitar, trombone and…what am I forgetting… oh yes, a string orchestra as well, but you don't have to worry about that. We have a synthesizer for strings. And drums too of course but we don't expect you to provide for that."
"Eh?" The producer scratched his head in puzzlement at the long list of instruments. "But Mr. Fanel, these instruments suggest that Van is going to play jazz music," the producer argued.
"And what's wrong with that?" Van cut in angrily. Folken elbowed him sharply in the ribs. While Van keeled over in pain, Folken neatly slid in.
"Don't mind my brother, the stress is just getting to him," he said.
"Where are we going to find a piano?" the producer mumbled frantically to himself. "The stage isn't big enough for a piano—"
"I assure you, sir, a keyboard will be just fine," Folken said, no indication of his hidden frustration showing on his smooth, smiling face.
"And vibes…what are vibes anyway?"
Van, who had recovered from his chest pain, threw up his hands in exasperation at this question. Folken nudged him, silently informing him to control himself.
"I really don't see how we can accommodate for all these instruments. We only have, oh damnnit, one hour until screen time! Where are we going to find all these instruments?"
"It's not as if we're telling you to provide the instruments!" Van snapped. His voice took a loud volume. "My band has their own instruments! Do you think we're stupid? Do you really think we would play on whatever crap ass piece of junk you give us? We just wanted you to know the change of plans! All we ask is that you adjust the show to accommodate for our performance! And what's wrong with jazz any--"
"My client is very distressed!" Folken interrupted loudly. "He is still recovering from his depression! Your lack of understanding is making him very frustrated."
The producer cowered under the stares of the two Fanels. "Yes…yes…I'm very sorry Mr. Fanel," he apologized, not completely sure to which Fanel he was apologizing to. "I just don't really understand…"
Inwardly, both Fanel brothers groaned. Folken, the mature one, drew himself up and forced a polite smile on his face.
"I completely understand you," he said to the producer, who looked relieved at that statement. "I am just so sorry that you do not understand us. You see, the original contract had Van acting on stage. Unfortunately, we do not know what kind of actor Van is, so therefore, your ratings are fairly unpredictable. We can't risk that, can we? Such a prestigious show as Saturday Night Live can not risk the chance of bad ratings. So therefore, we sensitively thought that if we changed the procedure from Van acting to singing, it would greatly improve your ratings. Singing is what Van does best, so it is entirely certain that you will attain good ratings for tonight. And because Van will perform his new, unreleased music, your number of viewers will most probably sky rocket to an astonishing amount."
The producer looked as though he was relenting, but Folken could see that he hadn't completely cracked him yet. He continued and added his final flourish.
"We are also very fair business, almost masochistic to ourselves. The contract of course has the price of which you will be paying Van for tonight's performance. Changing acting to singing would probably increase the amount of money you owe to Van. Actually, it would increase it to an astonishing degree if you include Van's band, which by the way composes of seven musicans. But because we are entirely sensitive to the strain we put on you because of the change of plans, we are not charging you a penny more than the original payment we agreed on. And that's like slitting our own throat," Folken concluded.
It was the perfect moment for a wave of applause to sound off, but there was no applause as the producer shook Folken's hand, apologizing to Van for all the trouble he gave to him.
Once the producer left to issue out new instructions, Folken dropped his slick manager demeanor and wiped his forehead.
"Well, I'm glad that's taken care of," he said, flopping onto a chair.
Van, whose fists were balled, glared in the direction the producer had left in. "I can't believe that man. 'What are vibes anyway?'" he mocked. "It's amazing how many stupid people there are."
"It's all in the business, Vannie boy," Folken reminded him. "You can't help being the only smart apple in the bunch."
"Yeah, I can't help actually being serious about my music. 'These instruments suggest that Van will be playing jazz music'" he mocked again, putting a high pitched tone on the word 'jazz.' "So what if I like jazz! So what if I want to explore a new type of music? I can't stick to rock forever!"
"Very true, yes, yes," Folken said absent-mindedly. "Well, I think now is the time to talk to the boys."
"The boys" was the term Folken used to refer to Van's band. They were currently sitting backstage, chatting and eager to see Van's now nonexistent acting debut.
Hitomi was with the boys when Van left her and Dilandau. Now she was trying out the vibes when Van rejoined them.
"So, how did it go?" she asked, pounding out some notes on the vibes. The vibe player sweated nervously, worrying for the sake of his instrument.
"The producer's a dumbass, but he agreed in the end," Van said, giving her a peck on the cheek. The boys already knew about the two of them of course. Van trusted them entirely; they were like brothers to him. Thus it was safe to show signs of affection in their presence.
"Thanks to my genius persuasion of course," Folken cut in, swelling his chest proudly.
"Yeah, sure," Van said wryly. "So, we need to move all the equipment onto the stage now. We've only got an hour to figure out how we're going to set up so hurry. The audience will be arriving soon."
The boys all leaped up. Hitomi smiled at their efficiency. She loved hanging out with them. They were a laid back, fun loving bunch. But despite their goofiness, they were all still professionals in their music. Each and every one of them knew how to play more than just guitars and bases.
Hitomi helped Dilandau move his drum set onto the stage.
"Hey Van," Dilandau called. "Where do I set this up?"
"Somewhere in the back, where people won't see you!"
"Very funny jackass!"
"Now, now, don't swear when a lady's present!" Folken said, winking Hitomi.
"I can swear whenever I fucking want!"
Hitomi laughed hysterically.
"What? What'd I do?" asked Dilandau in confusion.
~*~*~*~*~
"Now, now, don't swear when a lady's present!"
Thin, pointy ears pricked up and wrinkled. Pink hair swished as the head turned sharply. Eyes narrowed when they saw the speaker of the statement.
Merle's sharp teeth pricked her lips as she recalled similar situations as the one she watched on the stage. So Folken still told Dilandau not swear. Merle used to be the lady Folken referred to.
Merle Catsdaughter was a stylish woman of taste. She wore personally tailored clothes, makeup that only professional make up artists would use, chic nail polish, and her shoes, well, don't get her started on her shoes.
She stood in the shadows near the entrance to the SNL studio, unnoticed by those on the stage, quietly watching. Merle had done everything in her power to secure herself a seat in the audience of SNL. Normally she would have merely disregarded SNL, they had done some parodies that she really didn't approve of, reason being that they parodied her. But for now, she would swallow her disregard.
After the break up, Van avoided Merle wherever she went. This was her only chance to see him.
People used to gossip on what a wonderful couple she and Van de Fanel made. It was quite the classic couple: the bad boy rocker and the beautiful shy girl who brought out the best of him. Eventually, the media had put so much pressure on the couple that they created problems and rifts between the two, which then resulted in a break up. Or so the media thought at least. The breakup was actually much more than that.
She frowned as she spotted the new lady. Short hair, dirty blonde, gangly limbs, not much trace of makeup. What a contrast there was between the girl and herself!
Merle's mind began to drift amongst the past.
"You're so dependent on the latest fashions and trends. Why? You have an imagination. Don't you have any style of your own?"
Who had said that to her? Who had dared say such a thing? To Merle? Merle, who was considered the trendsetter of the decade? Then Merle remembered: it was her ex-boyfriend, Van de Fanel.
"Why should I worry about the media? If they don't like the song, that's fine. They're entitled to their own opinions. Why should I care? I can't please everyone and I don't want to. What's the point? Why should I care? It's my music god damn it! Not theirs! I'm not like you, always worrying about what people will they say. Why do you care?"
"Media media media! It's always about the media! Remember when we graduated from high school? When you used to kiss me because you loved me? Now the only reason you kiss me is so the reporters can get a good picture of it!"
"If you always rely on what the media says of you, then do you really have a mind of your own?"
"Why do you care?"
"Do you love me anymore?"
"Do you?"
" Truly?"
Merle growled under her breath. Van hadn't and didn't understand. She had almost burst into tears when Van had questioned her love for him. He just didn't understand. She was only looking out for him. When he accused her of caring only about the media's opinion, Merle was merely being realistic. Van's success depended wholly on the media. If the media weren't pleased, then Van would be dumped in the trash along with his career. And then who would listen to his precious music? Nobody would pay attention to an abandoned pop star. Ah yes, there was that issue too. Van hated it when he and his music were referred to as pop. But in reality, anything played on the radio, anything popular, was pop music whether he liked it or not. Any artist young and good looking, whether or not he or she actually had talent, would always be considered a pop artist.
Did Van really think he could break out of the stereotype? Well, he thought he could, but he couldn't see, as Merle had, that it was simply impossible. If Van didn't want to see that, than there was nothing Merle could do.
"Why should I care? Why do you care?" That was one of the problems: Van didn't care. He wanted only personal satisfaction in his music, not fame. Fame was something he didn't care about. Merle had taken it upon herself to have the role of caring for such things. Apparently, all the caring she did was just too overwhelming for Van. Yes, that was one problem.
Why did Van push for the break up? Everything in Merle's life was dedicated to Van. When they were children, she had even called him "Lord Van." She was completely subjected to him. What else did he want?
Merle gritted her teeth as she watched the new girl joke around. She used to be the one who would hang around the boys. Granted, she was never that friendly with them. They were only the band after all, hardly important, their names only got the fine print in the credits.
The girl was so…plebian. Her clothing consisted of a mere pair of black jeans and a t-shirt. Nothing designer made of course. Her hair was cut short Peter Pan style. It didn't look as though she had bothered to comb it.
Wait, just because she was female didn't mean the girl had any romantic connection to Van. Merle relaxed. Silly Merle, she thought to herself. She really was that insecure to jump to such a conclusion. Perhaps she was merely a stagehand, or an assistant to the band. She could be anything really.
She checked her watch. 45 minutes until the show. 25 minutes until the audience were allowed to take their seats. Merle sighed in impatience but forced herself to wait. It would all be worth it, just to speak to Van again. Settling herself into the shadows, Merle continued to wait and watch.
"Okay, I think this is it."
Van stood at the front row of the audience, peering up at the stage set. He squinted his eyes, checking to make sure that each and everyone member of his band had ample room to play their instruments and to switch instruments when necessary. Satisfied, he hopped back on to the stage.
"Right, now that that's settled, let's tune up," he ordered. He sat down at the keyboard himself and played at an A-note. Assorted sounds of squeaking and booming followed as the musicians tuned their instruments.
Hitomi sat down on one of the sound speakers. Glancing around, she saw that some of the SNL actors and comedians had wandered into the studio, plainly wondering about the sounds.
"Wait a minute…why are you setting up instruments?" one comedian said.
"Are you going to perform?" another asked.
"Yes, we changed the contract to performing instead of acting," answered Van without looking up.
"Oh, that's too bad. I was really looking forward to doing that skit with you," the first comedian said.
"And which skit was that?" Van asked politely.
"You know? The one with the break up scene? Where you come in late and start apologizing to me? I practiced the crying and the slapping and everything!" The comedian sighed in anguish. "Oh well, next time maybe."
The actors left for the make up rooms. Hitomi stared after them.
"Van," she said. "You were going to get slapped?"
A series of muffled snorts echoed in the room.
Van glared. "Oh shut up," he said weakly.
~*~*~*~
Disclaimer// Escaflowne doesn't belong to me. Neither does SNL, and I'm sure the producer of SNL is actually a very cool and smart person who knows what vibes are.
A/n. Okay, so next chapter is going to be the performance itself. See you next time!