Bright Lights Shining

<body topmargin=0 leftmargin=0 marginheight=0 marginwidth=0> <table cellpadding=0 cellspacing=0 border=0><tr> <td valign="top" colspan=3 height=90 BGCOLOR="#3399FF" TEXT="#080000"> <div> <FONT SIZE="7" COLOR="#FFCC66" FACE="Times New Roman" ><I><B>Liz Berry Books</B></I></FONT><B>  </B></div> <div> </div> </td> </tr><tr> <td valign="top" width=160 BGCOLOR="#FFCC66" TEXT="#080000" background="08bd4c00dkelyh.png"> <div> <A HREF="index.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Liz Berry Books"><U><I><B>Home</B></I></U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id17.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE=" Meet Liz "><U><I><B>Meet Liz</B></I></U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id18.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Books"><U><I><B>Books</B></I></U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id98.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Third Book/Creativity"><U><I><B>Third Book</B></I></U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id29.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Messages"><U><I><B>Messages</B></I></U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id30.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Bookstore"><U><I><B>Bookstore</B></I></U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id31.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Contact Liz"><U><I><B>Contact Liz</B></I></U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id32.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Links"><U><I><B>Links</B></I></U></A></div> <bR> </td> <td valign="top" height=390 BGCOLOR="#FFFFFF" TEXT="#080000" bgproperties="fixed" background="31587c01egerdp.jpg"> <div>  </div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> <B>   </B></div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> <B>Bright Lights Shining </B></div> <div> <B>Chapter 2</B></div> <div> <B> </B></div> <bR> <div> Janey emerged from a taxi outside the Grande Excelsior Hotel in Hastings, where all the groups performing in the Open Air Festival were staying. It was newly built, large and luxurious, away from the centre of the town and overlooking the sea.</div> <div> She paid off the cabbie with great poise and dignity, she felt, by emptying the last of her silver into the cabbie's hand.  Surprisingly, he did not seem as grateful as she expected. She floated up the imposing steps.</div> <bR> <div> At Charing Cross she had had to wait a while for a train. The effects of the port had begun to wear off, and she realised she was grubby and untidy. She used the cloakroom to wash and had the brilliant idea of changing her old shirt for the new scarlet top. At the hotel it would help if she looked like a guest. There might be some sort of reception going on. It was a good thing she had been wearing her best jeans. She combed out her hair and put on lipstick, peering owlishly into the mirror.</div> <div> The journey to Hastings had seemed surprisingly short. Of course, she couldn't actually remember large parts of it. She had dozed perhaps. And there had been that really nice young man on the train who had bought her a couple of brandies in the bar because he was alarmed at her pallor. He had bought her another 'one for the road' in the pub outside the station at Hastings, where he had confided the difficulties with his wife, who didn't understand him. Janey had listened sympathetically, smiling goofily at him, as the strong alcohol burst on her empty stomach.</div> <div> She began to feel very dignified and beautiful, and found, to her pleasure, that the rosy floating feeling had come back.  Everything had turned into a terrific adventure.</div> <div> She floated out of the pub and into a waiting taxi.</div> <bR> <div> There were two policemen at the door of the hotel who looked at her beadily, but let her through because she had arrived by taxi. The hotel receptionist eyed her warily. No coat. No case.</div> <div> 'Mr. Michael Adams of Night Mission, please,' said Janey grandly.</div> <div> 'I'm afraid Mr. Adams isn't able to see any fans at this time of night.You just go home, miss, and sleep it off. Perhaps you'll see him some other time.'</div> <div> She said, indignantly, 'I'm not a fan. I'm his sister. I've got to see him urgently.'</div> <div> The receptionist laughed. 'That's what the other young ladies said.'</div> <div> 'No, honestly,' momentarily sobered, she groped in her bag for one of the official cards Gerry Woods had given her: 'Jane Adams, Assistant Business Manager, Night Mission', and found, as well, the special backstage pass for the Festival.</div> <div> He stared at the card resignedly. So much had happened since the bands playing at the Festival had arrived and turned the respectable hotel into a mad house, that nothing would surprise him any more.</div> <div> He shrugged. 'They're all at the press reception in the Waldorf Suite. First Floor. You can't miss it. All the bands, all their managers, assistants, half the television, newsmen and radio people of the entire country, not to mention....'</div> <div> His voice went on, but the glow had returned and Janey smiled sweetly and floated up the stairs.</div> <div> At the top of the stairs, tall double doors, wide open, revealed a crazy party, with people shouting, yelling, laughing. There was some wild music battering the ears. Cameras were flashing, and a young man was throwing a glass of wine over his head.</div> <div> Janey stood in the doorway, mildly surprised. It had seemed such a nice quiet hotel outside. Where would Mike be in all this?  She thought she saw him briefly in the distance with Steve and two girls. She plunged into the crowd to get to him. Someone pressed a full glass of drink into her hand, the crowd swirled and Mike had gone. She gulped the drink down, wondering that she felt so thirsty.</div> <div> She was being edged into a corner by a fat man with sweat on his upper lip who was talking to her so rapidly and quietly she couldn't hear a thing he was saying, except, every so often, 'Baby, you <I>need</I> a Manager...' All the drops on his upper lip quivered, reflecting the chandeliers above. Janey giggled, and then somebody caught her hand.</div> <div> 'Janey, sweetheart! Thank God you made it after all!' It was Gerry Woods, frantic, looking very much the worse for wear. His tie was askew, and his usually immaculate dark suit, wrinkled. 'Find Dave! You've got to find Dave right away. Melvin here wants to interview him.' Then he too was swept away.</div> <div> Another glass of something appeared, and she was talking very carefully, and to her surprise, rather amusingly and confidently, to a laughing young man, who seemed to be trying to push a giant ice-lolly into her mouth. They were talking about Night Mission. He was clearly a fan, so she told him how clever and attractive the band was. How they worked so hard. How they wrote their songs. How she had handled their finances in the early days...The gigs they had done.</div> <div> The young man seemed fascinated, he was listening with flattering attention, staring into her eyes. But she began to be quite annoyed, because there seemed also to be a man carrying a large box on his shoulder who kept trying to shove in front of them. She stared at him, her eyes wide and reproachful, her dark hair falling back dramatically from the clean lines of her fine-boned face.</div> <div> The young man asked if she had a favourite Night Mission song, and she obliged him by singing part of <I>Someone Waiting</I>. 'Go on!' he said, 'Sing some more.'</div> <div> She sang some more, the clear golden notes flooding effortlessly over the noise in the large room.</div> <div> 'Smile,' said the man with the box.</div> <div> Janey smiled slowly and provocatively at the box, which he moved in closer, and she saw that it wasn't a box at all but a large camera.</div> <div> He was crazy. They <I>all</I> were. She floated off down the room, as the rosy cloud descended again. She was so thirsty.  But she had to find Mike. Or was it Dave?</div> <div> There was a kaleidoscope of voices, hands, glasses. Then Dave's voice and hands, pulling her out of the moving crowd.</div> <div> 'Janey! I've been trying to get to you. I heard you singing.'</div> <div> She focussed on him and smiled with unusual warmth. 'Hello, Dave darling.'  She stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the lips.</div> <div> He stared down at her, his grey eyes dark, unreadable.</div> <div> 'What's that you're drinking?'</div> <div> 'Orangeade.'</div> <div> He sniffed at it. 'It's gin, and you've had too much.'</div> <div> 'But I'm so dry, and it's so hot...'</div> <div> 'What the hell are you doing here? I thought you weren't coming - that you had to study this weekend.'</div> <div> Briefly the rosy clouds parted. She shook her head to clear it, trying to remember. 'Dave, where's Mike? I've got to see Mike. It's urgent. Or Ronnie, even.'</div> <div> 'Ronnie left straight after our set. He has a private clarinet recital tomorrow afternoon. Important.'</div> <div> 'But where's <I>Mike</I>. It's Mike I want, or even Steve. Please find Mike for me.'</div> <div> Dave looked vague. 'I...er...don't think they're around at the moment, Janey.'</div> <div> 'You mean they've left with...'</div> <div> At that moment, a hand caught her elbow, swinging her around. He was tall, very thin, with wild, laughing green eyes.  Bright green, like a cat. His hands were long, thin, nervous, and the one on her arm was shaking.</div> <div> 'Hey, baby, haven't I seen you before somewhere?'</div> <div> 'No!' she said, shrugging off the hand, 'Dave...'</div> <div> But Dave had been engulfed by a huge, bulky man in a check suit, with a well-known beery face - Melvin McKinley running the world's best pop column in the world's largest selling newspaper. Too important to upset.</div> <div> 'Yes, I have! It's my Demon Lover from the College of Technology!'</div> <div> He was very attractive, with short silver-gilt hair, and those fantastic eyes. He was dressed from head to foot in black.</div> <div> Maybe she did recognise him from somewhere. He was laughing, but behind the laughter there was a reckless wildness, a kind of desperation. She recognised that he was at the edge of his control. If she tried to get away there could be trouble. A couple of times she had seen bands run wild after shows, exhausted, violent and emotionally unstable after playing flat out for long hours.</div> <div> 'I'm lonely, lovely. Dance with me.'</div> <div> The lights had dimmed and a lot of people had gone. What did it matter after all? Mike and Steve had gone off with the two girls. Why shouldn't she enjoy herself? <I>Kerry </I> enjoyed herself.</div> <div> She put her hands round his neck and relaxed against him.  His arms tightened round her until they hurt, then he put his head on her shoulder with a long shuddering sigh of relief. He was younger than she had thought.</div> <div> They moved round slowly to the slow music. She saw Dave watching her over McKinley's shoulder. His eyes were like black ice - glittering and furious. What was he angry about <I>now</I>?</div> <div> Then the effects of the last gin reached her and everything dissolved in a warm floating cloud.</div> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> <B> <img src="HTMLobj-775/aniGif.gif" border="0" align="bottom" width="65" height="108">  </B></div> <div> <I><B>To be continued.......</B></I></div> <bR> <div> <FONT SIZE="2" COLOR="#FF0033" FACE="Times New Roman" ><I><B>Copyright Liz Berry 2002. All rights reserved.</B></I></FONT><B>  </B> </div> <div> <B>____________________________________</B></div> <div> <A HREF="id50.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Bright Lights Shining"><U><I><B>Bright Lights Shining</B></I></U></A><I><B> | </B></I><A HREF="id18.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Books"><U><I><B>Books | </B></I></U></A><A HREF="index.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Liz Berry Books"><U><I><B>Home</B></I></U></A></div> <div> <I><B>     </B></I><I><B>          </B></I></div> </td> <td valign="top" width=125 BGCOLOR="#3399FF" TEXT="#080000"> <div> <A HREF="id50.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Bright Lights Shining"><U><I><B>Bright Lights Shining </B></I></U></A></div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> <A HREF="id38.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Bright Lights Shining Chapter 1"><U><I><B>Chapter 1</B></I></U></A></div> <div> <I><B>Chapter 2</B></I></div> <div> <I><B>Chapter 3</B></I></div> </td> </tr></table></body>