Pop Tart. Kira Coplin
microphone in between them.
‘Departing your hotel just moments ago, you were met with some aggression here tonight…from Louisiana-based Christian group, The Tree of Knowledge. Isn’t that right?’
‘Uh, yeah–I guess. I don’t really know what’s going on.’ Brooke nervously smiled.
‘Do you still consider yourself a Lutheran?’ one of the protesters standing behind her screamed out.
‘Of course I do,’ Brooke snapped, whipping her head around. ‘I say a prayer before every rehearsal and every show.’
Without breaking eye contact with the lens, Nina smirked slightly, turning her body back toward Brooke to resume her interrogation.
‘Mounting over the last month or so, your love life has fueled much speculation…’ The phony enthusiasm Nina poured into the camera in front of her as she said this made me cringe, it was as if Brooke were just one of her girlfriends at a slumber party, belying the wolf in sheep’s clothing licking her chops for an exclusive. Brooke stood awkwardly amidst the mob that hovered around her. From the naive expression of childish wonderment and confusion on her face, it was clear she hadn’t been well-versed in how to handle press or how invasive they could be. I felt the sudden urge to do something–to pull my friend far out of harm’s way–because where I came from, conversations with reporters that started out like this one never led to anything good.
‘…of a romantic relationship between yourself and Emerson Brothers’ teen heartthrob, Jesse.’ Nina looked at Brooke in anticipation before continuing on. ‘Adding sparks to the flame were the photographs that surfaced recently in which the two of you appeared to be canoodling on the set of your music video in Los Angeles. Is there anything you guys are holding back from all your fans out there?’
‘No, it’s nothing.’ Brooke lied though the pink that tinged her cheeks was all too telling. ‘We’re just friends.’
I was just about to breathe a big sigh of relief as it seemed like the worst was over, but then another curve ball was tossed her way.
‘What kind of role model are you for our children?!’ It was the sweaty man again, vying for more air time.
Gesturing toward the crowd of protesting Christians behind her, Nina nodded. ‘That certainly is a question that’s been on quite a few minds lately. The sexual innuendoes of your lyrics, the provocative clothing–what do you feel your responsibilities, if any, are as a role model for America’s youth?’
The microphone she shoved at Brooke met an awkward silence in the form of a deer-in-headlights stare. Brooke paused, twisting her face in confusion–as if pondering what to say–but I had had enough. Grabbing Brooke’s arm, I pushed myself in between them. Stopping to glare at the reporter, I leaned into the microphone.
‘I’d ask you the same question–murders, white collar crimes, the war overseas–what do you feel your responsibilities are, if any, in educating the public on its most pressing issues?’ Lost for words, it was now Nina Guagenti’s turn to be silent. ‘What kind of role model bombards and harasses an innocent young girl like this? Must be a slow news day.’
Evading my questions, Nina clasped her trench coat around herself with one hand and smugly turned back to the camera. Leaving her chattering behind us, I pulled Brooke through the crowd, into the safety of the bus.
Notified of the situation just minutes before we arrived at the venue, Steve waited anxiously. Gripping the wheel, the driver turned into a private entrance that was far from where concertgoers lined up excitedly in front, dropping us off without any hassle. Valiantly throwing his arms around Brooke’s shoulders, Steve escorted her inside, leaving me trailing after them.
‘There were only a handful of them a little over an hour ago–no signs, no chanting–someone must’ve tipped them off,’ Steve, who had figured that the small gathering of people he saw were just the usual Emerson Brothers fanatics, grumbled. ‘Those news cameras must have just showed up–they probably brought all the commotion with them. Idiots…’
As we moved briskly down the hall behind him, our eyes fixed straight ahead toward the dressing rooms, I couldn’t help but feel pleased with myself for stepping up to the plate and defending my friend in the heat of the moment. Certainly, I’d at least proven to Steve that there was more to me than meets the eye–I was not only responsible, but someone who looked out for her client’s best interest.
‘Calamity!’ a voice called out. Wrapped up in my thoughts, I had fallen out of pace. Standing in a doorway just up ahead, I spotted Steve staring down at his wristwatch.
‘You guys are really late…what took so long?’
Word of the madness swirling outside the hotel had spread and Brooke’s dancers gathered in her dressing room to make sure she was okay. The sound of them all screaming at each other as they jumped up and down and threw their arms around her was deafening.
‘That is so not beat,’ one of the girls, said, prompting the rest of them to nod their heads in agreement.
‘You okay girl?’ Jimmy asked as he placed his hand gently on her leg–his touch seeming to linger just a little too long.
‘Yeah, thanks for being such great best friends,’ Brooke said smiling up at everyone.
I was still trying to process all of the things that had just occurred in the past fifteen minutes when I heard a bitchy voice out of nowhere.
‘Where the fuck have you guys been?’ Standing just a few feet away, a pile of sparkling spandex weighing down one arm, stood Robert. Though he was directing all of his attention toward me, the dancers took this as their sign to bail, running out of the room as they blew air kisses in Brooke’s direction.
‘We were mobbed by a group of crazies outside the hotel,’ I told him. ‘I did the best I could to fend off the—’
‘Really?’ Robert’s face lit up in excitement, which he poorly attempted to hide by turning down the corners of his grin. Getting no answer from Steve, he turned to me as if I were his new best friend. ‘Oh my God, what happened?’
‘Just these crazy people at the hotel–I think they belong to some kind of Christian teen life group. Something like that…and there were cameras too. I’ve never seen anything like that’
‘How exciting!’ Robert mused. I could tell what was going through his head–why he was so excited. The more buzz Brooke generated, the higher his stock rose. I suppose that the same went for me as well, but for some reason I didn’t see it that way, this whole thing was very new for me, too. He stood there, just lingering, but finally left as I put the final touches on her hair.
‘Oh my gawd, lock that door–I can’t talk to anyone else right now,’ Brooke said, flustered. Spotting a window on the north wall, she gushed, ‘Does that open? I want to open it.’
‘I’ll get it!’ Afraid she was having some kind of panic attack, I lunged toward the window, thrusting it open with superhuman strength. I expected her to run over to it, gasp for some fresh air and collect herself, but instead, she casually moved toward it. Pulling a Marlboro to her mouth, fresh air clearly wasn’t on her mind.
‘Want one?’
I hadn’t smoked since midterms when my stress level was at an all-time high, or, I should say, what I thought was an all-time high. I took a cigarette from the pack in her fingers, plopped down next to her by the window, hoping it would relieve some of the tension I was feeling.
‘You okay?’ I asked her.
She nodded slowly before leaning forward to flick the ash of her cigarette in an empty metal trashcan. ‘Thank Jesus I had you with me, I don’t know what I would’ve done.’
‘What about Jesse? Is he going to be mad?’
‘What do you mean?’ She looked genuinely confused and I wondered for a moment