Feedback and suggestions always welcome. Next chapter, things pick up big time.
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You must be 18 to read this story, be able to read erotica in your community, not be offended by the contents of it...blah blah, you know the rest.
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This is Part 22 of an ongoing series. Yes I know the celebs don't act like this in real life, but this is a fantasy after all.
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Of all the celebrities, actresses, models, singers and just otherwise beautiful people that I've ever dealt with, none come even close to the word "diva" as much as Jennifer Lopez. A recently embarrassing episode that got out into the press was Jennifer's insistence on a specially tailored trailer for her 15 minute performance at the recent September 11th benefit. Needless to say, I put as much spin on it as I could. But being a diva has it's benefits - most of the time.
Right now was not one of them. I was standing backstage, watching the people rush by back and forth as they got the set ready. After the success of NBC's first aired performance by Jennifer during sweeps month, they wanted more. So here I was, nervously pacing and wondering why the set of trained birds that Jennifer wanted for her new special, to be recorded now at a very top secret, "only in the know" concert that Jennifer was holding. The new special would air on Valentine's Day and was sure to be a success. If we could ever get it off the ground of course.
Most people have no idea how much effort goes into planning a concert, especially one for a superstar like Jennifer. Part of me wished that I didn't have to be here, catering to her every whim and making sure that the network people and the venue people were happy. Then again, I would have a backstage view of one of the world's most known women, an entertainer that was multi-talented AND the first real Latin star to cross over to the middle America mainstream.
The stage area was pretty cramped for a concert hall (I'd tell you where it was but that would ruin the surprise of course), with roadies and dancers running around. I was standing guard outside Jennifer's dressing room door. Her requests after the charity mishap had toned down a little, now only requesting a large room with lots of fresh food and, of all things, a small mariachi band to entertain her. Sometimes I think I'll never understand the rich and famous.
I was glancing side to side when I noticed Jennifer stick her head out of the door of her dressing room, her long black hair up in a bun over her head and her face decorated in a half layer of makeup.
"Pssst. Pssst...Dean!" she said, sticking a robed arm out to get my attention. In that moment I saw not Jennifer Lopez the superstar but Jennifer Lopez, the girl from the Bronx who had hit it big much like Barbara Streisand had a half century earlier.
Walking to the door, I leaned my head into the room. An odor of perfume immediately hit my nostrils.
"Can you come in for a second Dean? I'm a little nervous about this," Jennifer said. She had cinched her robe around her waist and had her arms crossed over her chest. Her bare, bronze legs shifted her weight slowly back and forth.
"There is nothing to be nervous about Jennifer. You'll be perfectly fine. Don't worry about the ratings either. Even if this thing fails, which it won't, your star power won't be diminishing anytime soon," I said to reassure her, putting my hands on her small shoulders. She was not very tall at all, appearing much bigger on screen than she really was.
"It's not that..." Jennifer said, a little unsure, her eyes at the floor. "It's the people in the audience. Last time I was too excited and busy to worry about getting nervous because I knew that the people out there were total strangers. There's a lot of people I know out there tonight and I feel somehow afraid of going out there and performing for them," she said.
She was right too - a who's who of Hollywood was in the audience tonight - network and studio executives, top stars (and a handful of my clients), people from the fashion industry, many of Jennifer's personal friends from back in New York and even a few lucky fans who had managed to win tickets through secret drawings and knowing the right people. I understood Jennifer's fear, her apprehension at basically performing for the people who made up her past and those that would determine her future.
"Well, is there anything I can do to make you feel better? You want anything, need me to kill anyone?" I said jokingly. The mariachi band that had been playing in the corner of the room quietly, not paying any attention to us (I hadn't even noticed they were there, I thought it was background noise!) suddenly stopped and looked at me. I gave them a sheepish smile and returned to Jennifer. "Seriously. If there is anything you need, let me know," I said.
"I can't think of anything right now really. But hey, why don't you give me a shoulder massage and I'll think of something," Jennifer said excitedly.
"Gee Jennifer, I'm not very good at those. When I was in high school and tried to give them, the girls always ended up more sore than when I started. I'd hate for you to be achy going out there. Maybe I can find you a massuese outside in the hall - we seem to have every profession known to man running around out there.," I said, making an excuse to not get put in the position that I knew could lead to trouble. Unlike most of my previous flings with celebrities, Jennifer's husband was a dancer in the show and could come in on his wife at any time. An innocent massage might lead to something else.
