I Do What I Do » John Taylor

XI

December 18th, 1983

"Finally out of Australia! I think those accents were starting to get to me," I laugh as John and I sit on the plane.

He chuckles. "Oh, me too. I love it there, though. The people are so kind," he explains.

"You're right! I don't think I've ever seen such nice staff before!" I agree. "And the fans were insane. This is crazy! I can't believe I'll be doing this for all these months to come."

He smiles. "That's pretty much how I felt the entirety of our first tour. Imagine how it feels when you're the one playing!"

"I could never! The rush that you guys must feel from all of the screaming!" I add. "Or, as I've noticed, the crowd singing Save a Prayer. That's magic."

He nods. "Oh, yeah. Simon always gets really excited when the crowd sings. It's crazy to think about how the entire room of people is singing the lyrics that he wrote himself."

"I bet," I agree with a smile. "Maybe one day I could be one of your backup singers. You've heard my obvious talent."

He scrunches his nose. "Mhhmm...if talent is what you want to call it...!"

I laugh. "Oh, please. As if I could ever get up on one of those stages. I think I'd fucking pass out."

"You know," he begins, "it's not as nerve-wracking as you'd think. I mean, why be nervous to play for thousands of people who love you? It's a pretty warm feeling, actually."

I nod. "Huh. I've never thought about it like that before. Interesting way to put it. I get what you're saying, though. I have a chronic fear of screwing up in front of everyone and it being noticeable."

"Oh, we all do. It's just gotten a little easier to suppress as we play more shows!" he admits.

"And the growing size of the crowds, too? Woo-wee!" I joke. "You would not catch me dead on that stage."

"I wouldn't want to catch you dead anywhere," he laughs.

"Awwwhh. How sweet of-"

"-then who would I have to help pack my luggage onto the planes?"

I glare at him. "I see how it is."

He chortles at my irritated expression. "Ah, relax! I'm just messing with you."

"I know, I know! You're not very funny, though!"

"You know I am," he teases as he brings his hand up and ruffles my hair, standing up shortly afterward.

"What?"

"I think Andy's calling me-" He stops. "What? Stage lights? Okay. I'll be right back."

"I'll be here," I reply, looking down at a magazine I picked up earlier.

A few minutes later, someone plops down next to me. I look up.

"Hey!"

I smile and put down the magazine. "Hey, Jules! How's it going?"

"Good, good," she replies. "Nick was bitching over there so I decided to come over and talk to you. You're alone now, anyways."

I furrow my brows. "What about?"