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Fairyfinder - I was, too :) I really enjoyed writing that scene. The bus scene was also very fun to write and I'm glad you enjoyed it!
"Hey, Jackson," a voice said behind me. I jumped from where I stood and faced the person.
"Huh, what?" I said distractedly.
"You're on in five," said a guy dressed in all black and wearing a bluetooth headpiece - the stage director.
I nodded to him, feeling the sweat trickle down my face and back.
"Thanks."
Oh my God, I'm so freaking nervous. I could hear the comedian currently on the stage killing the crowd with jokes that, in my opinion, were a bit too sexual and crude for my liking. But they crowd seemed to like that, so maybe...
No, Gwen, my common sense interjected, you need to stick with what you know. Don't start telling jokes you aren't used to. Do what you do best and knock 'em dead.
I repeatedly wrung my clammy hands together as I stood backstage, despite the chronic draft coming from some opening somewhere. I tapped one combat-boot-clad foot to a random rhythm and recited the order of my jokes in my head over and over and over till the words lost their meaning and just became a combination of sounds and letters in my head.
I glanced to the side and saw a long mirror about six feet tall leaning against the wall, reflecting my nervous state. Before I realized it, I was scrutinizing my reflection: I saw my long, dark jeans, my red plaid flannel shirt, and my dark brown combat boots that went up mid-calf. My long brunette hair was slightly messy from the wind outside when I'd disembarked the bus twenty minutes earlier, but it still had its usual waviness that I liked. Sometimes I straightened it, but I felt like letting it go tonight.
You'll sweep the audience off their feet like a grand queen.
I smiled at my reflection; I could do this. I can do this.
When the stage director returned and motioned for me to enter the stage, I felt ready as I'd ever be. So I strode onto the stage into the glaring lights and the judging gaze of the crowd, waiting to be wowed or sent into a fit of giggles.
As I gazed over the crowd, my breath caught in my throat. There had to be at least two hundred people here, all dressed nice as though this were some kind of charity dinner. I grabbed the microphone off of the stand and put it to my lips.
Well, here goes nothing.
"Hey there, ladies and gents," I said, forcing cheeriness into my tone. I could feel my legs shaking and sweat beading up on my face. It was awfully hot underneath all of the lights. "And thank you again for coming tonight. I see that you've all dressed very nicely tonight... well, I feel like a slob, so thanks for nothing."
Silence. I swallowed, and kept going.
"I can only imagine what it must've been like for you all at home before you came tonight. 'Honey, does this match?'" I began imitating in a British accent. "'We're going to sit in a stuffy theater and listen to peasants make jokes, I need to look smah-shing!'"
The silence was deafening. I suddenly became aware of the wetness on my underarms.
"Y'know, I've been living here in London for about a week now, and I've gotta say, it's loud as hell here." A few laughs (Thank God, I thought with relief). "I walk outside, and a freakin' ambulance comes blaring down the street while people are yelling 'WHAT THE BLOODY 'ELL' at each other on the street and then red phone booths are tipping over and the fish n' chips are being sacrificed to the gods of tea and posh-ness..."
I was surprised and unnerved when no one laughed because that killed the crowd last night. Damn, these people are too sophisticated for my humor, I couldn't help thinking.
Suddenly, someone clapped and laughed loudly a bit too late. My eyes scanned the audience, but caught on the head of one man - a man whose head was a flamboyant, spiky blonde. My heart swelled up and determination filled my veins alongside the adrenaline and terror. I couldn't really see his face, but I knew he was smiling.
You'll sweep the audience off their feet like a grand queen.
Beside Jareth, I saw a man in a tight business suit. Hmm...
"But y'know what the best part about London is? The people. That's right, all ya'll weirdos are the best part. I mean, look at this guy in the front row. No, not you-," I said to Jareth, whose eyes had widened. I gestured to the business man beside him; even under the glaring lights, I saw Jareth visibly relax - yes, he was definitely smiling now, I could tell. "-You. What's up with this, whole suit-and-tie get up? Who you tryin'a impress? I mean, you've already out-dressed me, so congrats, man. But it is freaking dark in this theater, who is going to see you? Yet you got on this whole attire and you're freaking buff, man! Were you going for the Governator look? That's what really boggles my mind, ladies and germs..."
The whole theater was quiet still; I knew it must've taken every inch of bravery for Jareth to just clap and cheer like that and draw attention to himself in a packed theater. Now he was quiet, waiting with everyone else.
"It always shocks me," I went on, swallowing what felt like a rock down my throat. It landed heavily in my stomach and churned uncomfortably, "when people dress up so much for events where you literally sit in darkness. I mean, who's gonna see you? Nobody's up in the back row like, 'Whaaat, he's wearing that suit and tie? Ugh, how uncultured of him! Egad, man!'."
The man I'd teased a moment before, to my horror, stood up and it occurred to me how tall and ripped he was.
"This isn't comedy!" the man hollered. "All you're doing is makin' fun of us! You're the uncultured one!"
Sweat poured down my face and my heart hammered a mile a minute.
"Sir, please, sit down-," I stammered, but the douche bag was on a roll.
"How abou' you GET OFF THE BLOODY STAGE!" he shouted. The rest of the theater cheered with him, rallying against me as though I were Frankenstein's monster and these were the townspeople with pitchforks and torches.
My breath caught in my throat and choked me; I was cornered, the audience had turned against me, I need to get out of here, I need to say something, I need to do something, make them laugh, what will Mark say-
"How dare you," came a booming voice. I looked and saw Jareth standing before the man, the same height but significantly less ripped. I feared for his life as he eyed the man angrily. "This woman has worked to entertain you - all of you - and you boo her? Where is your culture now?"
The man shoved Jareth backward by the shoulders; he stumbled a bit, but his eyes never left the man. He looked almost dangerous now, and it occurred to me that a fight was inevitable.
Without a second thought, I dropped the mic, jumped down from the stage and ran towards them.
"Hey, knock it off!" I shouted, waving my hands. I inserted myself in between them right as the businessman wound his fist back to deliver a powerful blow. I turned to man to tell him to calm down when fire erupted across my face and the floor rushed to greet me. My head snapped back as I hit the ground, and sounds blurred together as the shouting increased.
Hands shook me and something wet and warm was dripping down my face and into my mouth and the smell of metallic was filling my nostrils. I opened my eyes and saw two pairs of multi-shaded blue eyes probing mine; suddenly, hands were helping me up to my feet and Jareth was saying something but I couldn't hear. My head felt like someone was hammering the inside of it and the pain flashed before my eyes in bursts of color.
"Just leave me alone," I mumbled as the shouting increased.
"Gwen, are you okay?" Jareth said, the sounds finally coming together. I heard shouts and bits of phrases like 'Finish her off!', 'Leave the poor girl alone!', 'Punch her lights out, George, punch the bitch!'.
"I said just leave me alone!" I hollered at Jareth, at everyone, which only worsened the pounding in my head. I shoved Jareth away from me stumbled down the aisle way of the theater and out the double doors; I didn't stop until the smell of fresh air mixed with the metallic.
My fingers brushed under my nose gently-
I yelped at the sudden pain. Fire spread throughout my whole nose and continued up through my forehead and across my scalp to the nape of my neck, and before I knew it I was screaming.
I opened my eyes and my fingers were wet and sticky and dark. My breathing quickened and before I knew it I was sprinting down the street. My combat boots slapped the pavement as I ran and my hair whipped around my face. My head pounded horribly from the running but I knew that I had to get away.
Everything was crumbling, everything I'd worked for was dying, I was dying inside. Help me, I'm drowning. I'm drowning in my own failure.
I'm not sure how far I ran, but eventually I stopped to catch my breath. A hitch of pain was stitched together in my side and the blood underneath my nose was drying. The pounding in my head hadn't ceased but I was getting used to it. I glanced behind me; though it was blurry, the environment was different.
I must've ran a few blocks, I thought stupidly. That's pretty far.
The adrenaline was running out and exhaustion hit me like a freight train. I stumbled to a nearby bench and sat down, regretting never getting in shape like Mark had a few months ago.
I outwardly winced at his name. If he knew what had happened, he'd never trust me again. I couldn't go home with this. I buried my face in my hands and tried to think of happier times. I remembered my mom and her smiling face, and her telling me if I had to beat up the kids on the playground for calling me names then I was free to. I won't have my child not sticking up herself, no I won't, she'd said, then smiled at me and kissed my head. Go get 'em, tiger. Needless to say, those kids had black eyes and bloody noses the next day.
Perhaps this is karma, I thought hopelessly. It's not my fault, the universe is just screwing me over.
You have no power over me, the phrase came to me suddenly. Mom always used to read The Labyrinth to me before bed and always reminded me to say that to myself when the kids at school would pick on me. Even throughout high school she'd tell me that when I came home with tear-smeared mascara and bruises. Be like Sarah and say that to your bullies, honey, she'd say. Be like Sarah.
I pale in comparison to Sarah right about now, I thought miserably. To be quite honest...
"I... I just wish that the goblins would take me away..." I murmured aloud, feeling the sides of the pit of despair I was in. Fire was flaming and a crazy African drum-beat was ensuing inside my head. "...right now..."
Darkness closed in on me as a set of powerful hands clamped onto my shoulders. The last thing I heard was maniacal laughter, like giggling children from The Exorcist. Some were chanting something like, "She said the words! She's finally ours!"