Disclaimer: The word in bold has always been there, you know? It goes to show that nothing ever changes…
(1) Notes: Thanks to everyone who took his or her time to stare at the screen and review! You've made my month! I was surprised to see that you guys actually liked (correct me if I'm wrong) the Belladonna-assistant thingy It just seemed pretty amusing to imagine Bella cleaning Remy's trailer… ;) Well, a lot of questions will be answered in this chapter, (basic ones, I hope) but do remember that I'm trying to be clear in a blurry way. :D
This chapter is dedicated to my minion, Society' Dirt Bag! She's been patient enough to listen to me scream when I get inspired for this… thing. (mind you, she says stuff that somehow gets me more enthused about my story. –grins-) Please read her fabulous works and be assured of a Hershey bar here. I'm babbling again. Gah. Anyhow, before I continue to digress, here's the next chappy!
Limelight by melancholic
3. Unsatisfied
Here we go. Again. Kitty Pryde thought, yawning as she watched the ecstatic faces of the crowd endlessly swirl around her, blocking her view of the table where the cast sat. She wondered how they were able to stand these press cons, the afternoon drawing lazily near before they would finish.
A computer-genius fresh out of the University of Chicago, Kitty was a whiz with mechanics, familiar with almost every aspect of technology as if it were the back of her hand. It was one of her biggest ambitions (besides getting Remy LeBeau's bodyguard, Piotr Rasputin, to notice her) to own a successful computer animation company, as she had a penchant for CGI flicks – there was just something adorable about 3D animals, really.
Kitty had tried to apply for numerous animatronics corporations, even going as far as California, but none of them seemed interested in taking in an amateur, as they called her. Enraged, Kitty had stormed off, soon seeing the "wanted" ads that were placed in the offices across the street in Sunset Boulevard. Desperate for vengeance and a job, Kitty marched in, presented her (as she thought) impressive portfolio, and then got the post immediately. She was unaware that she would soon be one of the graphical assistants for the production crew of Genesis, that movie that her best friend, Meggan, couldn't quit rambling about.
Give me that computer now! Kitty's fingers itched to actually get down to some movie editing, because since she began her current occupation, the only requirement in her job was to be in attendance for press gatherings, to "Show off our wonderfully talented cast and crew!" Xavier had said enthusiastically, the ever-present smile on his face flashing. Kitty wanted to be famous, but being literally behind the cameras wasn't her idea of getting the jump-start that she needed for her animation career. I won't be "Finding Nemo" at this rate. She mentally exclaimed, a bored expression settling on her face as she yawned, eyes blurry. She was about to fall asleep, head drooping near her Hello Kitty mug, the drawling voice of Emma Frost echoing in the back of her mind…
"Da, Mr. LeBeau will be having dinner with Ms. Munroe." A thickly accented voice said, awakening Kitty the moment the sounds entered her ears. Hands automatically balled into fists to contain her giddiness and nervousness, Kitty ducked behind Paige Guthrie, one of the make-up artists, (yes, as she's the sister of Country superstar Sam Guthrie, one would wonder why she was stuck backstage) temporarily stunning her as Kitty continued to observe Piotr's muscular body from a sideway view, the Pryde girl's eyes totally mesmerized. Moments later, Piotr left the tent, much to Kitty's disappointment. This seemed like a typical day of a crewmember, bound to her part of Genesis, the insatiable desire for something or someone… When were they ever satisfied, anyway?
———
As the day progressed, Marie (who, in an attempt to forget Remy's supposed stare) began to get a tad bit annoyed with Jubilee, her repetitive "Five more minutes!!! Pleeaase?" act filling the gaps of the afternoon. It was hard to believe that she could survive living in an apartment with her bubbly Asian friend, Smash Mouth songs playing in the background of their actions, a permanent tune to their life, Marie supposed. She was used to the harmonies of nature that accompanied her life back home in Mississippi, the rushing sounds of water against the rocks often playing in her mind, even in the sunny, chic city of Los Angeles.
One would wonder what a small town girl was doing in a big city avenue, when she had everything that she needed, the necessity to move to Hollywood not present in her world. But something was missing, a gaping hole extending to the annals of her soul. Marie craved to be known for her secret passion, one that she would never reveal: The desire to feel the warm lights of a stage on her face, the knowledge that random eyes were focusing on her, to be herself through another character… But it's impossible. Marie knew that her dream was something that would send Jubilee howling with laughter until the next century. And that was why Marie didn't seem like the most thrilled person to step onto the sun-streaked streets of Hollywood, that being a quite dismal way of masking her desires.
Speaking of the devil… She felt Jubilee tug at the sleeve of her long-sleeved blouse; the jade color "Matches your eyes!" Jubilee squealed before, making Marie smile at the memory of that day in the Hollywood Mall. The fact that her friend used to live in a mall showed her zest for life, something that Marie couldn't ever match. Lately, insecurities seemed to keep piling up on Marie's lap like Jubilee's laundry, the messy shirts' quantity increasing seemingly by the minute. And, for the life of Marie, she was running out of detergent to clean those shirts.
"Dude!" Jubilee gripped Marie's arm, cutting out the blood circulation visibly. "It's…" Her voice dramatically dropped to a whisper, resulting in Marie's outmost confusion, "REMY!!!" It was as if the entire arena uttered that one word at the same time as Jubilee, except the voices saying the popular actor's name had different emotions behind it. Of course, the speakers surrounding them intensified the volume of Remy's voice, as he spoke with a grin,
"Ah, oui… Bonjour, mes amis…" He trailed off, flaunting his million-dollar smile, "Comment allez-vous? He acted like he had expected all the screams and fainting spells that were currently occurring before him, Marie deduced. You can already see it in the way he moves… quit that! Marie admonished herself for even thinking about the "explosive Cajun" (quoted from Jubes) in a non-Marie, completely alien way. Marie then feigned interest at Remy's little charm attack, sure that she was going to have to catch Jubilee unconscious once Remy blew the crowd a kiss or something.
She found herself studying the other actors and actresses seated up onstage, Ororo Munroe's stunningly white locks framing her heart-shaped face, elegance radiating all throughout the actress' form. And there was that bubbly singer Alison Blaire, her voice almost as light and soothing as how obsessed she was with the stage spotlights always shining on her, but of course, Marie was loyal to Lila Cheney and the rest of Cat's Laughing, a popular rock band with a somewhat futuristicapproach to their music. Marie couldn't forget her own little devotion to Sam Guthrie, and was itching to attend the collaboration concert of the said artists. Come to think of it, Marie thought she had seen somebody who resembled his younger sibling, Paige, somewhere in the back tables on the platform. Her little search was interrupted when the throng screamed Remy's name uproariously for the nth time, which bored Marie somehow.
Remy introduced the other members of the cast, teasing the animated crowd by winking at them or casually sticking his tongue out. Betsy Braddock was relatively obvious in murmuring something to Warren Worthington III, whom Marie could guess, probably bought his way into the cast and wormed his way into Betsy's heart. Why are you even thinking about this, girl? Maybe because it's supposed to be you up there, the crowd chanting your name over and over, the camera on your face… For some reason, Marie could imagine herself in Jean Grey's tight leather gown, conversing with a very hirsute man, whose tufts of jet-black hair appeared as if they were wolf ears atop his head. Of course, they were probably talking about how even the air-conditioning of this tent wasn't enough to accommodate the heat that was circulating in the area…
"An' now, mes amis… Dis be a quality movie, non? Wit' quality actors, o' course!" A particularly haughty voice said, continuing, "De judges an' m'self are gon' walk 'round t'give ya kisses 'n hugs! In ot'er words: we're gon' pick de extras! It may seem like somet'in small, but trust Remy, it can get ya somewhere…" Remy's accented drawl broke into the Southern girl's reverie, the giggles of a bazillion-something pack shattering her mini-Hollywood dreams. Sighing, Marie watched as the stars smiled, dazzling the cameras and hearts of their fans, her friend Jubilee one of the retransformed zombies.
Another regret for you, Marie.
———
As he sauntered down the stage and into the arms of his fans (well, at an obviously considerable distance), Remy shook his head, boredom drawing back into him like the way his hair fell in front of his face, aware of how crazy the femmes went when they saw him brush it back and flash his gleaming whites at them. It was always like this, even before he became "discovered" as a talented actor. Born in the streets of the French Quarter in New Orleans, Louisiana, Remy was orphaned, later taken in by one of the most politically powerful (crime-wise, too) men of the city. Even then, he had been charming his way into the hearts of almost every passing female, an asset that was highly useful in getting what he wanted. But it appeared that nothing could fill this endless space inside of him, something definitely missing…
He looked over his shoulder to find the belle Ororo approaching him, Remy nudging his bodyguards Piotr Rasputin and Nathan Summers to wait for her. At the sight of his chérie amour, the tent seemed to dissolve, all faces blurry except for the sight of Ororo Munroe's goddess-like attributes. His chest tightened, feeling as if he was "gonna get his mac on" as Ororo gave him a light peck on the cheek, arm secured around his waist. Remy whistled softly, admiring how sexy his girlfriend looked in her chiffon dress.
And she's all mine… Remy thought proudly, knowing that a lot of girls could think they had him, but one solely owned Remy. Of course, that attitude was about to change in the next week or so, depending on Remy's mood… But today, he belonged to 'Ro alone. He'd done his job onstage; it didn't matter anymore who picked those damn extras!
As Ro began telling Remy what she thought of those frantic fanatics, doing almost everything under the sun to attract their attention, pity; Warren had approached a bunch of girls nearly clad in nothing Remy found his eyes wandering over to an area of particularly scattered fans, yodeling, break-dancing, singing the alphabet…
Merde (shit).
As if visions of something were haunting him, the apparently same girl whom he had thought he saw through a series of mental drainages stood there in a corner, yawning as she hit her Asian friend repeatedly. Though in a crazy position, Remy found her long-sleeved blouse fit enough to rival Ororo's dress, her auburn hair in every way made his fingers die to rake themselves through those endless strands, her smile… Bon sang merde! (bloody hell)Remy felt as if he was watching a glorious deity when she then turned, locking eyes with him for a split second before talking to her companion again.
Don't let her go, LeBeau!
Remy looked like he had suddenly found his sole purpose for living when he, in a moment of clear madness, let go of Ororo's hand, raced through the crowd, mindless of the number of astonished stares he was getting (he knocked a few people down). All that mattered was that he reached her. He was in a dark, vast space, with only her face to guide him out as he continued to move toward her, hypnotized. When he was close, he tried to amble carelessly in her direction. Upon being behind her, he nervously (and quite disbelievingly) cleared his throat, reached over and tapped her shoulder softly, feeling light-headed as sparks of electricity appeared to ignite at his fingertips. Remy don't know why, but mademoiselle… He thinks he needs you. Remy knew that Ororo would be coming soon, worry evident on her features, so he needed to move. Now.
"Ah… escusez-moi (excuse me)were ya interested in gettin' a role in de movie, belles (beautiful girls)?" He asked briskly, his trademark grin present. Remy can charm you, oui he can…
———
She twirled the cell phone, waiting discreetly in the corner. She watched him intently. In this place, he was not safe from anyone, the greedy claws of the crowd ready to snatch him into their unworthy clutches. It was her role to protect her master, life, and soul. Nobody would be able to steal him from her. Ever.
(2) Notes: You may think you know, but you really don't! Don't bother trying to find out what this statements means, 'cause it'd probably just waste your time. :P