Part 5 - England

Cynthia grunted in disgust as she saw the rain pouring outside the airport in London. I wasn’t particularly fond of it either, but my mind was preoccupied. We arrived over an hour ago and there was supposed to be a private car to pick us up, get us to our hotel and drive us around wherever we wanted to, but there was still no sign of it. Cynthia was on the verge of her patience and I could see her eyes darting to the cigarette shop nearby.
She quit smoking years ago, but I can imagine how nervous she was right now. Hell, I could use a smoke too. So we headed there, bought a pack of cigarettes and headed outside to smoke.
“Fucking rock stars and their fucking fashionably late trends!”
There was no way in heaven or on earth that you could make this woman hold her tongue once she got pissed off. Especially not when it comes to rock stars.
“What do you think will the story be?”
“About the song? They’ll probably come up with something ridiculous that no one will believe. The more important thing is, what are you gonna do with Dany?”
I looked down at the cigarette in my hands and those few seconds were the longest in my life. The night before the flight I didn’t sleep at all and I thought everything through, trying to find a way out of this mess. My head told me to forget Dany and move on with my life and my career, but my heart told me my career means nothing. I didn’t know what to say to Cynthia.

“Oh, the car is here!”
She put me out of my spiral of thoughts and we dragged the luggage to the car. She bitched at the driver for being late, which was completely her style, then we got on and didn’t speak again until we reached our hotel. The driver left us at the entrance and said he will come pick us up in a few hours.

I collapsed on the bed, staring at the ceiling.
“What are you gonna do with Dany, An? I can tell you thought about it.”
“I don’t know what I will do.”
“You’ll leave your job for him, I know it. I know you and I know how you fall in love. And with Dany, I can’t even blame you. Just do me a favor and let me break his pretty face if he hurts you, okay?”
I chuckled. Right now, Cynthia was about the only person who could make everything seem like a joke and make me laugh.
“Get some rest, I’ll go take a shower.”

I must have fallen asleep while she was in the shower, as my ringing phone woke me up. I dug through my bag and picked it up mechanically, without even looking.
“Anya, are you okay? Is everything going good?”
Silently, I thanked to God it was Ron, and not Dany. Cynthia’s head popped out of the bathroom door, her eyes fierce and ready to kick some rock-star ass. I shook my head and she slid back in, leaving the door slightly cracked.
“Yeah, I’m sorry I didn’t call. I must’ve been tired, or something. Slept until now.”
“Okay, I’m glad to hear that. When are you meeting Vicious?”
It must have been at that moment that I fully realized the situation. My mind started running on full speed, flipping possible situations.
“Uhm, I don’t know yet. Jayden is supposed to call me today and tell me exactly. I promise, it’ll be a good interview, Ron.”
“It better be. You’re one of my best journalists and I love your writing, but letters have been flooding the mailbox like crazy these days. I keep putting off the replies and all the other journalists’ questions about this, but I can’t do it forever. I need a good statement from the band and I need it ASAP.”
“And you will have it, Ron, by the end of the week. I’ll mail you the interview as soon as I do it and you can publish it. Deal?”
“Deal.”

I hung up and collapsed back on the bed. Cynthia walked out of the bathroom, with her hair wet and wavy over her shoulder and a towel wrapped around her. No words were needed to understand each other.
She picked up her phone and dialed a number, then gave me the phone. I took it reluctantly, looking at the number and trying to recognize whose is it, but I couldn’t.
“Hi, Cynthia, I was just about to call. Is everything alright with you and Anya, did you travel okay?”
I gulped and tried to talk, surprised how harsh my voice sounded:
“Hey. It’s Anaya, and yes, we traveled okay. When can we see you?”
“I was hoping you and I could meet and talk?”
“No, Dany, this is not happening. When do we interview you?”
“Listen, I have so many things to tell you, please let me talk to you.”
Tears filled up my eyes and my mind must’ve gone blank.

Later Cynthia told me she arranged the interview for tomorrow, then she poured me a glass of vodka and put me to sleep.

“Well, the song is about a woman that’s just like any other – she found out about us from friends, came to see us, we met after the gig and we talked. Yes, just talked, no sex, or anything of the sort. We all came to respect this girl very much, exactly because she was completely professional with all of us, and terribly sweet.
Now, you and me, we have been friends for years, Anya. You know I’ve always loved your name, it’s different from all the Catherines and Annas that approached us. We couldn’t just pass it by! To all our fans out there, who have flooded our inbox with mail, we hope you’re happy now that you know the story behind ‘Anya’.”
Jayden took a sip of water, looking straight in my eyes, while he was talking to the machine in front of him, knowing that almost every word he said was a lie.

“Dany, since you write most of the lyrics, I’ll assume you wrote this one as well. Could you shed some light on the meaning behind it? I know that this is the worst question to ask an artist, but still.”
Cynthia threw him a glance, so evil, that he should’ve been running head over heels and hiding good, if he wasn’t preoccupied with looking at me.
“Well, it’s mostly about broken dreams. You see, this girl, let’s call her Alisa. So, Alisa met a guy she really loved, and he loved her too. He did all kinds of things for her and she opened up to him. But then, her friends –” he looked at Cynthia and I can swear I could see them dueling with their glances as the swords, “told her she shouldn’t go for him because he was untrue in what he told her. Her heart was broken, so was his.
It’s really tragic how much love affects a person’s world and how much it can change in just a single moment, isn’t it? This is what inspired us and since, in our view, man cannot live without love, we decided to write this song.”

We exchanged a million more false words over the recording device, both knowing it was all a sham. When the interview was done, Jayden invited Cynthia to join him for a smoke outside, while Dany seemed to be glued to the chair. She looked at me and I nodded at her to go. Dany and I needed to talk alone and it wasn’t going to be pretty.
They left, shutting the door behind them and leaving me and Dany alone.

He looked up at me, his glance somewhat apologetic and guilty.
“I’m sorry, love.”
“Were you out of your mind to release that song as a single, right after the Paris interview?!
“I insisted.”
“Do you have any idea what it is like to be known by the whole world? Do you have any idea how I felt when I read that announcement you made? Do you know how many journalists pile up at my doorstep to ask if it’s true?”
I could’ve gone on, but I had to catch my breath. He used the pause.
“I'm in love with you.”

22.08. - 20.11.2010
Replica

Part 4 - "Studded leather, strip it, and inside – the most beautiful soul"

My first reaction was to call Cynthia and tell her. After the first ring she picked up.
“I know, I just saw. I’m on my way. Get off work.”

As I hung up, Ron burst in the room.
“Vicious.”
“I know.”
“Did you…?”
“No. I know better than that and you know it, Ron.”
“I want you to arrange an interview for us. With Dany and Jayden, at least. ASAP. Chop-chop.”
He left the room. I knew full well a lot of magazines were going to start calling in asking if I had anything to do with this. I was one of the 10 journalists that got to interview Vicious in Paris in spring. Names spread fast.

I opened Vicious’ forum board and started going through the 12-page topic about ‘Anya’. All posts had the same question: Who is Anya and what is her relation to the band?
At some point Dany posted giving a brief explanation and picking on their curiosity more – Anya is just a woman we met on the road this year that inspired us all deeply. In fan language that usually meant ‘Anya is just a woman we met and fucked on the road.’
Next thing I knew I was reaching for my phone, dialing Jayden.

“Hey, love. Did you hear the news?”
He knew very well that thanks to him the biggest band of the decade was assigned to me.
“Yes, I did, Jayden. I need to talk to you, but first can you give me Dany’s number please?”
“Look, love, he’s really into you. Don’t reject him because he’s famous. He’s still human and capable of feeling.”
“You should’ve called me and told me about it. My career and job depend on this. You owe me big time, that’s why I want you to come with a good story and give an interview for my magazine. I’ll call you again in a few days to clear the details. Now Dany’s number.”
“He’ll call you in a minute, love. You let me know about the interview.”

The moment I let my phone down after talking with Jayden it rang again - a private number. My guess was it was the same number that called in Paris.
“Anya here.”
“Hello. Can we talk?”
“What the hell were you thinking, Dany?! Dedicating songs to me on your exclusive gig, breakfast on Seine, and now this?!”
“Listen, I’m sorry it had to be this way, but I knew you would never agree.”
“Of course I wouldn’t agree!”
At that moment Cynthia came into my office. With three fast clack-clack-clacks of her high heels she was at my desk, The Bitch looking at me. Her palm was stretched towards me, demanding the phone. I shook my head.
“I told you so… listen, how about I come down to – “
“No, no. Forget it. You and Jayden sit on your rock star asses and come up with a damn good story. You’ve got an interview with me next week, Dany Johnson.”
“And if you dare try to tangle my girl in your nets, I will rip your balls off and make a mirror dice for my car, you asshole!”
Cynthia spoke, loud enough so Dany could hear. I chuckled. That was The Bitch all right.
I hung up. Cynthia and I spoke briefly, I told her I’m going to England to interview them and I want her to come with me and we both headed to Ron’s office. We quickly arranged a date for next week and I immediately called Jayden and told him that next week is on.

Without even me asking, Ron told me to get the rest of the day off and me and Cynthia headed for my flat. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but Cynthia was a little different, a little quiet than usual.
When we got home, she nervously took off her sequined blazer carelessly throwing it over the back of a chair, then rummaged through her bag and took out a piece of paper. As I was reading, she went to the kitchen, got two glasses and pulled the bottle of vodka from my fridge. She came back with the glasses full and handed me one. I kept reading.

“Dear Cynthia Carlton,

I’m sending this letter on behalf of all my mates and band members of Vicious. Anya mentioned you are close friends, so I know no one better to turn to. We wrote a song entitled ‘Anya’. Well, the truth is I wrote most of it, but the guys agreed to play it and helped with it. We were all, in one way, or another, touched by her and the lease we could do is this.
Please let her know we mean her no ill will. I give you the lyrics of the song, as the single itself will be at your editorial in no more than a day.

Anya

On that river bank
When time flowed by
As the water reflected us
We stood – you and me

Studded leather, the faintest silk –
Water frozen, now it’s spilled
Strip your soul, strip mine too –
Studded leather and faint silk

Our reflections whispered
“Kiss, kiss and you’ll see”
As we stood there – you and me,
We were left there – broken dreams.

Strip my soul
Strip my leather

Studded leather, strip it, and inside – the most beautiful soul

Let Anya know we are looking forward to see her again.

Thanks for your help and rock on,
Dany Johnson”

I looked at Cynthia, speechless.
“It arrived today in my e-mail, An. I didn’t want to show it to you in front of Ron.”
“Thank you, it really is better if he doesn’t find out about all this. What can I do?”
She shrugged.
“He seems really into you. If I tell you to go for it, I shit on my principles and if I tell you not to, I shit on women’s principles.”

09.08.2010
Replica

Part 3 - Tequila Round

At that time it never occurred to me that a rock star can fall in love, nor that he believed in love at first sight.

I did what Cynthia told me to do at the lunch – I acted professional and a little distant, especially towards Dany, then said my goodbyes and climbed in the limo that was to drive us to the hotel and then to the airport.
Jayden was sad to see me go and he begged me to stay for a few days more. I promised I would come visit him in England first chance I get and he cheered up a little. Eric gave me a hug and slipped a guitar pick in my hand “for luck.” Glen made a little joke and said I’m the best journalist he’s ever worked with. Dany was the last to say goodbye. I was surprised how cold he acted, considering what had happened a few hours ago. The butterflies in my stomach were still dancing up and down in a spiral every time my eyes met his, but Cynthia’s voice and my determination overcame them, eventually.

Maybe that day I was a little sad to part from someone who I already felt so close. On the way to the airport my eyes filled with tears as we drove by the billboards with the faces of Dany, Eric, Jayden and Glen. I swallowed to keep the tears away and I still remember the sharp, bitter taste they had. To this day I haven’t tasted anything like it.

Few more hours later I slipped into my favorite cotton black dress, I put on my too-high-to-be-walked-on shoes, topped the whole look with smokey eyes make up and a lace bow-tie in my hair and headed to Citylite. The owner was a friend of Cynthia and there was always a quiet (as much as you can find quiet in an overcrowded bar that plays the best music and has the best drinks in town…) table for us. When I arrived Cynthia still wasn’t there. It was her trade mark to be late… for everything. I slid into the couch and ordered a Tequila Round and a Mojito. Just as my ice-cold glass of the latter landed on my table, the familiar riffs of Staring at the Sun caught my attention. The waitress went away and I saw Cynthia approaching, in her electric blue dress and strapped heels, cringing at every drum beat. She waved a hand and the song stopped immediately. A roar of unhappy voices raised, but the owner quickly announced that due to a VIP guest’s request no Vicious will be played tonight. We probably cost him a little fortune that night…
Cynthia sat down opposite me, looking at me like I didn’t call her to tell her Dany Johnson had occupied my mind. She patiently waited for the waitress to bring her vodka and then the Tequila Round I ordered, then her friendly face melted into what I called The Bitch. It was the part of her that always tried to protect you, but I can bet you will be scared at first when you see her like that.
“Tell me now, what happened?”
I told her everything, starting from that pub in England and Jayden and all the way to the breakfast Dany had taken me to and the lunch later that day.

“My, my…”
She put some salt on her hand, licked it off, downed a shot of tequila and looked at me.
“So what are you going to do? It would be easy to get in touch with him, but should you?”
“I know it’s not right. And besides, I’ve been down that road and things didn’t…”
“Please don’t remind me about that prick! He stole one of my best journalists.”
I smiled. Cynthia still couldn’t get over a crush I had back when I was fairly new to the whole journalism business.
“I suppose if I let it blow off, I’ll be over Dany Johnson in no time.”
“And he’ll be the poster guy you had a crush on. Nothing more. Promise?”
“I promise.”
“Now, I think I saw a few cute guys all by themselves at the bar. Since this tequila won’t drink itself, how about we invite ‘em over?”
And with that Cynthia got off, tossing her blond hair and headed to two guys at the bar that later joined us.

I did exactly what I told Cynthia I would do – I let everything blow off and in no time I was back in track with no lead-singer-crush.
Or so I thought, until one day, while browsing the latest news feeds of bands, I found one entry listed under www.vicious.com. Ron had reassigned Vicious exclusively to me, since I got that impossible interview in Paris, so I was the only person at the magazine who stayed in touch and received the latest hype from them.
I read it over and over again and I couldn’t believe it: “The band is happy to announce that next month their new single ‘Anya’ will be released. The release dates are as follows:
16.09. France;
20.09. UK;
25.09. rest of Europe;
30.09. rest of the world;

Jayden Lang (drums) describes the single as “fragile, beautiful and mysterious. Just like the woman it is named after.” Further information, cover artwork, full set-list, video as well as interviews with the band will follow in the next few days.”

08.08.2010
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Part 2 - Breakfast on the Shores of Seine

At my first job my editor, Cynthia, loved to joke with me about how her greatest nightmare is to lose one of her writers to a rock star. I myself had a few friends that ended up leaving their career to be with a rock star.
Truth to be told, and you’d know that, if you’re a girl, we all dream of a long-haired guy with a lot of tattoos, in leather pants, on a bike, who will write us songs and play on his acoustic guitar every night. And rock stars are exactly that. Only in our dreams they aren’t all about pussy, alcohol and drugs. Reality, when you’ve been around rock stars long enough, starts to seem vague. You’re drawn into a spiral of never-ending parties, that involve a lot of pussy, alcohol and drugs. The pussy are the poor girls who did not realize in time a rock star is not someone you can take to dinner at your mommy and daddy’s house and build a home with. They want to be with a rock star because they can brag that they found their dream-bad-boy, and on top of that, he plays in a really famous band.
If you work with rock stars, the first thing you need to assume is that they can’t fall in love. Even if you’re a Playboy-worthy babe.

After the long tiring gig, both for me and Chris, as well as for Vicious, we went backstage. We had a nice, long interview with them, discussed everything about their lives, music, ideas, even some of their personal life. Chris was packing his equipment as we were getting ready to head back to the hotel, when Dany, who was quiet most of the time, asked us how long are we staying in Paris. I already told Jayden we were leaving the next day and before Chris could open his mouth, Jayden announced that we are having lunch with them tomorrow. This was completely unplanned, but I couldn’t say no to his enthusiasm.
When we got back to the hotel room, I called Ron and told him about the interview and how well it went. I told him we’re going to have lunch tomorrow with the band and I could hear the excitement in his voice. What I didn’t tell Ron, and probably the thing I should’ve started with, was that I couldn’t get Dany out of my head.

The next day when I woke up for breakfast, I saw a few missed calls from a private number. My guess was that’s probably Jayden and a little voice in my head was hoping he was calling to cancel the lunch. Just as I was heading downstairs, my phone rang again.
“Anya here, how can I help ya?”
There was a long silence on the other end. I hate it when people do that. If you’re gonna be silent, why did you even call?
“Hello? Is anyo…”
“Yeah, I’m sorry. Hi, Anya.”
I froze in my step. It wasn’t Jayden. It was the voice that I knew so well from all the Vicious records. It was Dany. I tried to keep my cool and act casual, but I could feel the butterflies flying up and down in a spiral in my stomach.
“Hey, what’s up? Change of plans for the lunch?”
“Actually, no. Lunch is still on, we’ll come pick you up. I was wondering if you had breakfast already.”
“Was just heading there, why?”
“How about I take you for breakfast to a nice coffee shop somewhere in Paris?”
I didn’t know what to answer. The professional part of me told me to say I don’t feel very well and I prefer to stay at the hotel and rest, but the woman part felt attracted to the bad boy Dany was. Maybe I should have said no, but then my life would not have taken all the turns it did and I wouldn’t be here, writing this now.
I must’ve taken a while to think what to answer because Dany interrupted my thoughts with his strong British accent.
“Anya, are you there?”
“Yes, yes. Where do I meet you?”
“I’m waiting downstairs. There’s a silver car parked right in front of the hotel.”

And this is how I went to have breakfast with Dany Johnson.
I must admit, it wasn’t my first time alone with a big rock star, so I knew what to expect, but Dany was completely different.
Tattoos appeal.
Chivalry is sought after.
Tattoos and chivalry is the sweetest thing a girl could want.

His idea of “breakfast in a nice coffee shop somewhere in Paris” was actually a small round table with two chairs, a basket of all kinds of pastry and two huge cups of the best Parisian coffee. On the shore of Seine, with the Eiffel Tower in front of us and the Luxor Obelisk to the left.
We spoke about so many things, it’s hard for me to even remember. What I remember, besides the breathtaking view that very few girls get to enjoy while sipping coffee on their own table with their own rock star, was that every time my eyes met Dany’s piercing green stare my heart skipped a beat. In my head, I could hear Cynthia’s voice telling me to keep that pretty face away from the studded leather nets of rock stars and I knew this was highly unprofessional of me. But my heart was speaking louder that day and a girl gotta do what her heart tells her.

Two hours later Dany dropped me off at the hotel and gave me time to change and get Chris. While I was heading to the room, I quickly found Cynthia’s number and dialed it.
Even though we ended our professional relationship years ago, we never stopped talking to each other and in time she became one of my closest friends. I knew that now she was the only person who would be able to help me figure this one out.
“Anya, darling! How have you been, where are you?”
“Hi, Cynthia. I’m… fine. I’m in France, interviewing Vicious.”
Cynthia was the type of person who could understand something from the way you pause in a sentence.
“Uh-oh… who is he, honey?”
“It’s Dany.”
“Dany Johnson?! Are you insane? Where are you in Paris, I’m sending a limo to pick you up and drive you to the airport and you’re coming straight here.”
“No, no. It’s different this time. He started it and…”
“Of course he did, darling. Who wouldn’t start being sweet and nice for a beauty like you? Now, your address, the driver is waiting.”
“No, Cynthia. Thanks, but no. I just want to talk to you about it because it feels weird. I mean, he had the chance to sleep with me last night after the gig, but he didn’t. Instead he just took me for a breakfast on the shore of Seine. And he’s so gorgeous.”
“He is, but remember the first rule I taught you – he’s a rock star. His life is not as glamorous as it looks. You deserve better than him.”
She was right. I wasn’t gonna let him get to me. He was the rock star, I was the journalist. It was just another job.
“I’m having lunch with the band in an hour.”
“Good, good. You will go there, you will act professional, then leave and you won’t think about Dany Johnson anymore, is that clear?”
I smiled at her words.
“Yes. So what are you doing tomorrow night?”
“I have this writer friend, she met a guy. We need to discuss it. 8 o’clock at our bar. I’ll see you.”

23.07.2010
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Part 1 - The Gig

My name is Anya. No last name, simply Anya. I sign all my articles with that name. People in the business know me by it. The man I loved knew me by it.

I work as a freelance journalist at a big music magazine and I’m responsible for the rock and metal section. My job is to keep my eyes opened for new hot bands, contact them, interview them, go to concerts and attend press conferences. It pays off.
Music has been my passion since I can remember and rock’n’roll has been in my blood. My dad used to play his records to me until I was old enough and had enough money to buy records of my own.

In time, with the internet stepping in, it became easier to get in touch with band members. Interviews were arranged easily, no time lost in traveling on either side. With that I made a lot of connections with bands from all over Europe and America. I traveled great distances rarely, but when I did it was usually for a very remarkable artist.
Such was the case with Vicious.

Emerging from the UK, they were the hottest band for the past few years.
No, they were the hottest band of the decade.
They were all in their late 20s, with a common dream to conquer the stages and reach the cult status of rock legends.
Dany Johnson, Eric B., Glen Hall and Jayden Lang – those were the four people behind Vicious. They were worshiped by everyone. Posters with their faces could be found on the wall in almost every teenage room and every bar in Europe blasted their songs.

I came to know Jayden Lang, when he was still playing drums at his parents’ garage. We met at a bar on one of my trips to England. After a few beers he told me about his dream to become a drummer of a famous band, travel the world, play in every country and have everything he ever wants. He saw an opportunity in my face, a way to promote his skills, which I must admit were more than you’d expect from an 18 year old.
Few more beers later, we said goodbye, I wished him luck and we went our separate ways. When I got to my hotel room that night I found a napkin with his number on it and a sloppy fast-written ‘Call if you ever come to England again, love.’
We spoke a few times after that on the phone, exchanged some mail, but then Jayden disappeared. At that time it never occurred to me one day I will be interviewing him; that he became a part of the biggest rock band of the decade.

When my editor approached me one Tuesday morning, with this weary look on his face, I knew this wasn’t a good sign. He sat on the desk, grabbing one of the pens from the holder and started fiddling nervously with it. It doesn’t usually take long for Ron to spit it out, neither did it take him long now – he tried arranging an interview with Vicious and was turned down. Probably editors and journalist wannabes were approaching Vicious about an interview after their one-time gig in France. Ron knew that so far I never had problems arranging an interview and I could see the hope in his eyes. I agreed, telling him I don’t promise anything, but I didn’t tell him something else – I knew one of the band members.

Jayden Lang was my way to ensure an interview with them after the concert.
One of the things I’ve learned from all the years in the business is that once they hit stardom, rock stars tend to get very hard to reach… unless you’re not friends, or someone very important. My hopes weren’t very high about reaching Jayden, but that afternoon, as I sat in my huge red-and-black leather chair, I dialed the number I had from years ago. Two rings later, a woman on the other end picked up and greeted me with a friendly voice.
Even though nothing actually happened with Jayden, on my next trip to England he introduced me to his family and insisted I have dinner with them. I recognized the voice as his mom’s. At first, she didn’t remember who I was. It took me about 15 minutes to refresh her memory of that dinner I had with her family, but she finally remembered me. I told her I still work as a journalist and I want to do an interview with her son’s band, but we got turned down as a magazine, so it was my last hope to contact Jayden and arrange everything personally. She was kind enough to give me Jayden’s number and then we chatted for an hour more about life.

When I dialed the number she gave me, I could feel butterflies in my stomach and I didin’t know why. After a few rings, strong British accent greeted me over the sound of guitars and the voice of Dany Johnson singing in the background. I could never mistake that voice.
“Jayden, hi! This is Anya calling. I don’t know if you remember me, but we met at a pub in England a few years back.”
“I met a lot of girls, love. Be more specific.”
“Anya, the journalist. You slipped a napkin in my purse with your number on it. It said to call you whenever I’m heading to England. So I did and you took me to meet your mother. She gave me your number.”
There was a long silence from Jayden.
“Anya! I remember you, love, are you in England?”
“No, no I’m not, but I wanted to ask you a favor. You will be playing in France next month, an exclusive gig for whole Europe. I would love to interview you and the rest of Vicious. My editor already contacted you, but he got turned down, so I was hoping you could help. I’m buying beer after.”
For a moment I thought Jayden was going to tell me to fuck off. I was more than sure he vaguely remembered me and I doubted he’d trust me. But then I heard him shouting over the guitars to the rest of the guys.
“HEY! Hey! Can’t you see I’m on the fucking phone?! An old friend is calling from Europe. She’s a journalist and wants to do an interview with us in France next month. Are you all in?”
I heard Dany say “Whatever, I’m cool with it” and then Jayden was back on the phone.
“Love, are you still there?”
“Yes?”
“Listen, we’re gonna need the address of your magazine and we’ll send you an exclusive press pass for you and a photographer. Is that okay?”

From here on things went with no hindrances – I gave the address to Jayden and a week later received the pass with a note from Jayden saying ‘You owe me a beer.’ My editor was more than happy with that and he never asked me how I got those passes. We discussed the questions to be asked, then we chose a photographer and before I knew it, I was landing in Paris.
We found our way from the airport to the small hotel room, slipped into our studded leather gear and headed for Élysée Montmartr. I could hear the fans singing Vicious songs a block away from the place.
I headed to the front of the long queue, showed my pass and we were in. The usual instructions were given to my colleague Chris and I was told Jayden wants to see me. Heading backstage, I wondered if Jayden was calling me to make sure he remembers the right Anya or was he just curious to see if the journalist is cute enough.

I could hear the guys making jokes behind the thin door. The security guard knocked and when the door opened, I couldn’t help but smile. Jayden was the same as I remembered him, plus a few tattoos and a piercing. His dirty blond hair had grown almost to his waist and instead of the black-turned-gray band shirt, he was wearing pitch black leather.
“’Ello, love! You haven’t aged a day since that time in the pub!”
And with that, he gave me a long hug. Just like we were long lost friends.
“Come in, come in. I’ll introduce you. This is Glen, that’s Eric and… Dany is lost somewhere, probably chatting up groupies. Guys, this is Anya.”
They all waved at me, then went back to their activities – Glen playing a random tune on Eric’s acoustic guitar and Eric tuning his electric one. Jayden had not only stayed the same on the outside, but he was just as talkative as when he was 18. He offered me a beer and then we chatted about how he came to be a part of Vicious and their rocky path to success.
We finished the beers just when the security knocked on the door and told them it’s time to go on stage. I went back to the audience with Chris.

Some time during the gig Jayden made a remark that tonight he “found a long lost friend and a gorgeous woman.” Someone a few rows behind me shouted “Who is she?” and Jayden pointed at me with a huge smile on his face. Dany came over to Jayden, telling the audience how beautiful women were Jayden’s weak spot and then he looked at me.
He smiled a friendly smile and keeping the microphone away, shouted to me.
“You must be the journalist we’re interviewing with, right?”
I nodded in reply and he winked at me and took the mic again.
“My, my! She really is gorgeous. And therefore she deserves a song. So, "Staring at the Sun", it’s for you, love!”

Staring at the Sun,
I found out
Staring at the Sun,
I burnt
Staring at the Sun,
I realized it’s not the Sun,
It’s just your eyes

And a few songs later he dedicated “Butterfly Wings”, too.

Your butterfly wings over me,
You pretty butterfly,
Spread your butterfly wings and color me
Teach me how to fly

Now, just in case you’ve never heard Vicious, those songs are two of the very few emotional songs that people classify as love songs.

17.06.2010
Replica
To be continued...