I hadn't seen Dave in about ten years when I ran into him at this art event in Manhattan that was showcasing iconic album covers from "the new millennium." Dave happened to shoot photos for a few local bands who hit it big after the 2000 switch, and as fortune favors the guy standing in the right place and/or the right moment in time, several of Dave's photos were on display at this particular exhibition. Though these days I never see the guy, you couldn't miss his pictures - they were everywhere. I'd see his name next to almost every music related article I'd read in the past ten years.
The funny thing is, I met Dave at a karaoke night long before that. He was this incredibly awkward kid who dragged his camera around with him everywhere. Two of my close friends owned a shitty little dive bar on the Lower East Side, that had karaoke every Tuesday night. Although I've never seen Dave sing, he never missed a Tuesday. Those days I was notoriously broke and my friends were incredibly nice to me, so I rarely paid for drinks at their establishment. As thanks I'd help out whenever I could, checking IDs at the door, playing music from the house laptop, or even carrying kegs down to the basement. I was a permanent fixture there, and Tuesdays were no exception. On any given night the whole underground music scene in NYC could be found in this tiny little dive bar. I'm sure lots of people claim that happens at plenty of spots in the city, but it's a pretty incredible sight to watch members of your favorite bands hamming it up, while drinking cheap, canned beer, and outright butchering pop hits through a karaoke speaker. Dave was always right there to catch the action. He wasn't the biggest drinker, but I'm sure you could write a book about all the famous people who've spilled their beer or whiskey on that camera, before anyone knew their names.
I was supposed to meet a couple friends at the art gallery the night I ran into Dave. It was pretty crowded when I arrived, so I had some looking around to do. I grabbed a cup of wine and strolled through the gallery, keeping my eyes open for any familiar faces. The walls displayed large prints of album covers, and a selection of photos (or designs) from the artist who created each one. As I made my way through the gallery, sure enough I saw Dave's name. I quickly scanned the room to see if there was anyone to whom I could extend a "Hey I know that guy..." but my friends we nowhere in sight, and I didn't see any familiar faces in the vicinity. I took a swig from my plastic cup of red wine and a hand reached out from the crowd, tapped my shoulder, and pointed at one of the photos. I heard a familiar voice exclaim, "Hey, I know that guy!" I spun around to see Dave with a big, shit-eating grin on his face.
"Oh yeah?! Me too!" Laughing, I gave him a congratulatory hug and stepped back to greet his tightly knit entourage.
"Have you met my wife, Diana? I believe you guys have some friends in common..."
There was something familiar about her, but we definitely never met. I would have certainly remembered meeting this woman. She was gorgeous. She had on a tight fitting sequin dress as if she were going to a film premiere for the Academy. It had a high neck, but an open front, like a little window, that displayed her cleavage perfectly - and goddamn did she have cleavage. The size of her boobs was emphasized by her tiny waist, then countered by the way her hips cut back out just enough to her well-toned ass. There was a slit that ran down the side of her dress that went almost too high for her to be wearing anything underneath. I was definitely taken aback.
This was in stark contrast to Dave. Don't misunderstand me, Dave was dressed nice, and looked good this night, but I was half surprised he wasn't wearing sweatpants. To reiterate: he used to be awkward (really awkward), so he'll always be in my head that way. He gives off strong "little brother" vibes, which is probably why so many famous people feel comfortable around him. It's pretty cool seeing him with some confidence even if it feels so amazingly out of place.
Oddly, Diana looked kind of nervous meeting me, as if I were one of the rockstars they're always surrounded by - and I'd imagine that they were always surrounded by rockstars. My brain was scrambling, trying to frantically place just how I knew her.
"Diana? I'm sorry, I don't believe we have met..." As I said this I recognized her - not from meeting her, but from one of his photos. There was a picture of her on an album that came out several years back that was a staple in every record collector's collection, whether you liked the music or not. She's fully nude in the photo, but it's tastefully art directed so you don't really see everything. In fact, it's definitely on the wall at this very show! Holy fuck, she has a body to die for. I tried to not skip a beat, "...though I'm familiar with your work. I believe that's you over there, right?" I pointed to the album on the wall, and she smiled and blushed.
"My work? That little thing?" She teased. "That wasn't much work at all. I was perfectly relaxed and that man over there did all the heavy lifting." She mimed snapping a photo as she winked and motioned over to Dave.
"Okay then... So, besides that workhorse, what friends do we have in common?"
"You're friends with Charlene Kimura. She and I were roommates when I first moved to New York!" She had this bubbly exuberance when she spoke.
"Woah! That's pretty random. You know, she was my first girlfriend? We're still kinda close, but I never really get a chance to see her. I guess a husband and kids will do that to some people." Charlene Kimura, 'Charlie K' or even 'Sharkie' as most people knew her, was a few years older than me, so when I was in high school I felt like a superstar for dating a college girl. She was light years ahead of me in every way - an absolute dynamo. Everything I learned about music, politics, and sex I learned from Charlie. She was my first everything. She married some skateboarder guy in a band, and then divorced him a few years later to tour the world with a woman she fell in love with, who gave lectures all around Europe about theoretical physics, or something equally fantastical. Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if her husband is the physicist's ex boyfriend or some insane nonsense like that. Complicated, I know, but we can all learn something from Charlie.
"Sharkie used to talk about you a lot. I've seen so many pictures of you two together, and heard so many stories. It was like I knew you! Oh wow! This is kind of weird, actually meeting you in person!" Diana blushed again behind an incredibly cute, but awkward smile. The two of them probably would've lived together around the time that I was just scraping by, and wasn't really talking to Charlie much. It took a while to get back on my feet after that. Though I eventually came into my own (to some degree), I definitely don't have the credentials as any of the people in Dave's circle. It was funny seeing this drop-dead gorgeous bombshell get so nervous around me while standing in a room filled with some of the decade's greatest recording artists.
"Oh lovely! I've gotta say... I'm completely humbled that the notorious Charlie K had anything to say about me at all. Good things, I hope." I tried to sound suave, without looking like I was flirting. It would be bad form to hit on the woman married to Dave, while he stands by in the background.
Well... then again, considering Dave was casually chatting to a guy who's been pumping out hits since the 90s, surrounded by supermodels, I really don't think I was in danger of sounding too cool.
"Of course! She said SO many nice things! Lots of stories and pictures!" This was her second mention of "stories and pictures." Now I think I blushed. We had lots of stories, and some of those stories were well documented in photographs. Though I have no love for the political arena, many of those photographs could be the real foundations of why you'll never hear the words "Senator" or "President" before my name.
At this moment, a group of four young women approached us excitedly. Before their presence could even register, one of them immediately threw her arms around Diana and let out an exuberant squeal as they hugged and bounced for a moment together. She was a little bit of a thing, wearing the tiniest little bit of a top, held on by strings that barely looked strong enough to support the minimal amount of fabric that was there. Below that she wore the shortest of short skirts that rode up high enough during her hug, that I could easily see the littlest bit of her black lace panties that she wore underneath. I stepped back and just drank in the view. The other three were dressed similarly, but were more reserved in their introductions, exchanged tamer hugs, flipped their hair, and smiled to get Dave's attention.
Still holding her friend, Diana turned towards me, "Oh my god, you definitely need to meet my friend, Lydia!" Our eyes made contact and suddenly I recognized her as well. Only this was a different kind of recognition... I met her at a hotel party a few years back - a very sexy hotel party. "She's been doing some modeling for Dave. We're working on a photo book. She's one of our main subjects!"
I'd actually met Lydia a couple times, but this was the first time I'd seen Lydia in any clothing at all.
At first I couldn't tell if she was hiding her recognition, or honestly didn't remember me, but she smiled wide and re-introduced herself. Then she turned to Diana and broke off the act, "Are you kidding me?! We've known each other for years! Wow! Small world, huh??"
"Oh my god, that's so crazy!" Diana looked at me with genuine surprise, "There is just no underestimating you!" I'm not exactly sure how much she knows about Lydia's extracurricular activities, but I feel like my pretend-celebrity status just went from rockstar to pornstar. Diana turned to Dave as he stepped in and gave Lydia a hug. "Did you know that these two already knew one another?!" She said as she gestured to Lydia and I.
