priorities-2

11

I tell Carrie I'm visiting my parents. It's just weird telling her I'm going to Denmarkto hang out with Slasher before his concert. She's cool, anyway, Ted's there to keep hercompany. We really need to find a bigger place. Maybe when I get back.I arrive at the airport and there's a ticket to Denmark paid for and waiting for me inthe boarding area. I bring Meadow's book What Happened in Vegas, Didn't Stay inVegas for reading material. I love her character, "Nick," he reads really hot. I'm a hotmess when I get to the Denmark airport stopping during one of the many lurid lovescenes. 

There's this homeless guy checking me out, his hair is ratty looking, he's unshaved,and he's not carrying any bags. For goodness sakes, it clicks, another disguise. I run upto him and give him a hug and the people in close proximity look at me like I'm crazyfor hugging such a smelly guy, I jump backwards off him, "What did you use?" 

"Mya! Over here!" Slashers croaky voice is coming from a different direction.I look at the vagabond, "Oh! Sorry!" I can't believe I mistook him for Slasher.Slasher's about ten meters away laughing hysterically and I walk up to him quicklybefore I start beating up on him. Security starts following me and they pull me off him.Six guys all of a sudden come out of the woodworks along with two more airportsecurity. I back off Slasher. He looks up at the unfamiliar guards, "I'm okay," hereassures them, "I know her."

The homeless guy is staring us down now, and I can smell him on my clothes. Itturns my stomach knowing it's not a disguise from Slasher. Slasher is dressed like afourteen-year-old kid with high cut sneakers, jeans, t-shirt and sunglasses. His hair iseighties retro, but the package looks good.

"You will never tell anyone what just happened," I threaten.He grabs my bag and my hand and we leave the airport. Six goons circle us, I lookat him, "I'm popular in Denmark, this is a must," he explains.We get into a sports car alone and his goons vanish. "This is your car?" I ask"Ya," I have a vacation villa here."Oh!"

He takes us back to the Villa which has to be the size of a Los Angeles movie starshome, "This is all yours?" I ask."Ya, I'm thinking of selling, maintenance is high and I hardly ever come here.""Right? Let's swim!" I say spontaneously."Sure," he says.I was kidding but apparently his villa has an indoor pool and hot tub. He parks thecar in his eight-car garage, "Why so many spots?" I ask."Security parks here too, but I gave them the night off. It's just you and me for now,they'll come here before the concert tomorrow evening," he tells me.He opens the huge wooden door and lets me walk in before him, "The pool is at theback of the house.""Do you have a bathing suit for me?""Is it really necessary," he asks."No, but I just read, 'What Happened in Vegas, Didn't Stay in Vegas,' so I can't beheld accountable for my actions."You need me to shag you?" he asks."Since you're offering," I say lightly not expecting him to take me even a little bitserious. I don't get a chance to analyze what's happening, one second, he's kissing me,the next we are in the pool, then again in the hot tub, finishing off in his king. Satiated, Irealize I'm starving. "Hungry!" I complain.He brings my suitcase into the room so I can dress and to my surprise he has dinnerwarmed in the oven, "Mac and Cheese soufflé, I learned how to make it after having it atyour house," he smiles proudly.He dishes out two bowls and pours red wine for both of us. I take a bite and its waybetter than the way I make it, "What did you do, it's delicious.""I had my favourite cheese flown in from Pakistan," he explains."Wow," I laugh. "So, what's new with you?" I ask making dinner conversation.Slasher shrugs, "Nothing, just work. Spoke with Hunter the other day, he wassaying something about your friend wanting to wait three years before marrying him. Iwouldn't advise that she does that, he might move on.""I'm not saying anything to her. I know she was crazy over her boyfriend beforeHunter. She doesn't listen to anyone but herself.""Strong minded," he comments 

"That's why I love her," I tell him."So, you and Carrie are staying in that small apartment with the king bed?""And Ted," I tell him."Who's Ted?" He asks."A guy we met at the school bookstore, it's kind of a long story but his girlfriendbroke up with him over a text and we felt bad for him, so we invited him over fordinner.""That was nice of you," he comments."So, Ted said he wants to get out of his parents place and suggested we find a largerapartment and go in on it together. He helped us find jobs and everything.""That's great! It sounds like that T.V. show my grandmother used to watch withthat guy whose artery burst on him.""Ya, I know the one," I say. "He's a nice guy and Carrie and I get along with him,but Hunter doesn't know Carrie's living with Ted yet, don't tell him.""Eh," he hesitates."Seriously, tell him and our friendship is over," I warn."Okay, okay I won't say anything," he promises.I avoid telling him what the job is and he forgets to ask so that works out well.Eventually we tire and he offers me a room. I thank him and grab my bag. He leaves mealone for the rest of the night and I sleep like a baby.

I wake up the next morning to Slasher's employee bringing me breakfast in bed,from pancakes to croissants. I'm famished. The entire tray appears appetizing. I take apiece of bacon and it's so crispy and salty, I savour it like it's the last piece on earth. Therest of my breakfast is the same. 

I straighten up my bed, like it was never been slept in before and head for theshower. With the press of a button, I can change the jets I want to use and the waterpressure. I press one button out of curiosity and all of a sudden, my stomach getsblasted. I press another button next to that one and the jets pulse. It's super cool and Ispend more time pressing buttons then washing myself.I dry off before returning to my room to dress for the day. I have no idea whatwe're doing but the small bag I brought restricts my choices. I pick jeans and a Slasherconcert shirt I brought for tonight's concert, blending me with his fans.

He catches a glimpse of me before I leave my room, "You look wretched," hecomments, "Please take off that lame shirt."I'm kind of offended, "I'm going to your concert tonight, it makes sense to wearyour concert shirt, everyone else will be.""You're not everyone else bud," he says exasperated. He types something into hisphone and then looks up, "I'm having the girl who brought your breakfast to you pickout an outfit. I don't like associating you as a 'fan' you're my 'bud' there's a difference."

"Do fans get treated better?" I ask. 

"No, buds do," he assures. 

"You shag both," I compare."Bud's repeatedly," he lets me know. 

"How many buds do you have?"

 "You're my only bud. I can forgo the fans if I have you."

 "So, you're telling me I'm your bud, you only have one, and that you are forgoingthe fans." 

He thinks about what I said and then agrees immediately, "Ya.""Cool" I say in disbelief. "You're being EXCLUSIVE to me.""Ya," he says like what's so hard to believe type of attitude.I just laugh like it's the most ridiculous thing he can possibly say. His feelings arehurt, I feel like I have to explain why I'm laughing, "I believe you can be exclusive, butto me?" I can't even finish the sentence because I start laughing again."Why not to you?" he asks."I've got zero going for me, I'm not tall, or beautiful, I'm not overly smart, I don'thave money, nothing sets me apart from the masses!""Then I don't have a bloody idea," he admits. "Maybe it's: your crazy black hair,those rosy red lips, you read a book and then want to shag afterwards, or you leaping at abeggar in the airport thinking it's me, you tried having me trampled, you tell my motheryou trapped a hockey player into marrying you, the look of disinterest on your facewhen I serenade you in front of twenty thousand fans. It could be all of that! You arethe farthest thing from boring."I smile, "put it like that and Ive I put you through a lot!"He laughs now, "You think? Let's stop wasting time and go sightsee now so I canrest before the concert

Today he's dressed in a business suit, his hands and face painted brown and a fullout turban on his head. If I didn't know him, I would swear he's from India on his way towork.

Later that night we go to the concert. He pulls me up on stage. I'm supposed to sitgazing at him in the chair, with love in my eyes, I don't though. I catch him off guardand snatch his microphone away. That will teach him to pick on me. He looks franticallybehind stage making a gesture, and someone comes running out with anothermicrophone for him. Lighters and flashlights are all ablaze and I sing my heart out. Itbecomes an impromptu duet. The song ends and the crowd roars. Elliot looks stunned,"You're a songbird!" he says, "a true bloody songbird!"Elliot drops me at the airport after the concert so I make class the next morning.Little did I know I made every tabloid from Denmark to Canada about an unidentifiedfan stealing the show!