Don't Say My Name

Chapter 1

The song ended and applause filled the arena. As the superstar escaped the stage to his dressing room the lights illuminated the crowd beginning to surge through the exits. SlimJim locked the door; he was exhausted. He sank into the waiting armchair and began to relax each part of his body methodically. He was still resting when his manager knocked on his door using their special code. Reluctantly, SlimJim rose and opened the door to Mike.

"It went well, Jim." Mike beamed as SlimJim turned to the mirror to remove his stage makeup. "We've made another million tonight." Mike sprawled in the vacant armchair watching the star remove his sweaty clothing. "Seeing Lindy tonight?"

"Nope." The voice was muffled as he dragged a T-shirt over his head. "She's not around anymore."

"I thought you two were going strong?"

"She said she didn't wish to be part of a fan club." Jim sighed as he wiped down his guitar reverently and gently placed it into the protective case. "That's the trouble with this 'superstar' business - no girl stays around for long. I feel like chucking it in."

"You can't do that!" Mike lurched from the seat, alarmed. "Not now you're big. You've made a name for yourself and you're going places. Think of the future."

"I am." Jim retorted. "With no woman by my side. Look, I don't care if it's not the thing to do these days, I want someone special. I need a wife and I'm going to find one."

"How? You can't take one step outside for the risk of being mobbed. You surely know that?"

"Maybe. Anyway, I'm taking a break for a while. This was the last night of the tour, and my next single comes out soon. I'll promote it, but I'm not doing anything until its release. Understand?" He packed a battered suitcase with his stage clothes, dropping his cosmetics on the top before slamming it shut and locking it.

Out of habit, Mike picked up the guitar case and suitcase while Jim checked that he had packed everything. The past had taught him that anything left behind soon became a hot property on auction sites. "Fair enough. I can allow you some time off. You're doing well and you've earned some rest. Come on, let's get you out of here."

With a last look over the room, Jim followed Mike out into the night. Crowds were waiting outside for a glimpse of their idol as the pair slipped out of the rear exit into a waiting car. They both knew the fans would wait for hours, before eventually leaving disappointed.

Mike and Jim parted ways at the second airport a few hours later; Mike to go to the London studio, leaving Jim to catch another plane. Dawn was breaking as the plane touched down. Without his stage make-up and clothing, Jim was sure that nobody would recognize him during his journey. He didn't even have the same name. Mike had thought that his name of Clive Jones was not going to impress anyone, so he became James Simson. With a little extra twist, SlimJim was born. With make-up and stage clothes off, SlimJim became Clive Jones again. Few would guess that the curly headed man in a grey jacket, black denim jeans and trainers carrying a tatty guitar case was the glamrock star of the previous night, who sported a red sequined jacket, leather trousers and blue platform heeled boots, wearing white make-up with his eyes peering out of the centre of red stars as he played his black zigzag shaped electric guitar, and that was the way he liked it.

SlimJim - as Clive - passed through arrivals without a hitch, took a taxi to his house, paid in cash as he alighted and took the steps to the door in a single bound. After letting himself in, he collected his mail and tossed the keys onto the hall table. He placed his guitar down gently and headed for the kitchen. He shuffled through the mail as he made his coffee. There was nothing of consequence, although he had hoped for a note from Lindy. He dropped the unopened mail onto the counter and made his coffee. Strolling into the lounge, he set the cup down and allowed himself to sink onto his couch. Tired, but still wired, he relaxed each limb as he had in his dressing room. Staring at the ceiling, constant memories of his time with Lindy swirled in his mind.

Mike had hired a new personal assistant at the beginning of the year and Mike had introduced her when he went in the office to discuss his first tour. The tour had taken several weeks to arrange, and Clive had been a frequent visitor. On one occasion, Lindy had obviously been crying and Clive had invited her out for a coffee and coaxed her for the reason.

It took two coffees before Lindy was able to tell the complete tale. Apparently Barry, her husband, had been involved in an accident while driving his car just weeks after their wedding, and had died from his injuries. She finished the sorry tale by explaining that the day had been their anniversary and she had received an anniversary card from someone who had not heard the news. Clive had felt sorry for her, and whenever he was in the office, took time to take her for a coffee after the meeting. A friendship had grown which eventually drifted into romance.

Lindy had long dark hair and green eyes fringed with the longest lashes Clive had ever seen on any woman. Shorter than he was, everybody remarked that they looked good together. They had been a couple for a few years and Clive was convinced she was the perfect person to share his life with. He had proposed just before this last tour began, but she had refused, stating that she did not wish to be part of his fame, competing with fans and that he had changed into something she had no wish to be associated with. When she walked away, Clive was bereft, and threw himself into the tour which had been a complete sell-out. Critics had said he had given the best performances of his career, full of emotion and depth. Even his single - Mike was certain it was to be an instant chart-topper - lamented his lost love.

A long future lay ahead without Lindy, or any other woman. In his late twenties and the thirties looming close, he wanted to settle, buy a house and have a family, not tour for most of the year and come home to an empty apartment. What was fame if it denied him a family? Most of his school friends were married, some even divorced now, all with children. One or two were still single, either by choice or circumstance, but he, who was famous, could not find a genuine woman. He had been serious when he made the comment to Mike about giving it all up. Should he walk away from the fame? More to the point, was it possible? Or would his past hang around his neck like a lead weight?