Superstar Superchick [1]

Chapter 3: Tyler

I walked back to my beamer feeling exhausted after attempting to film my new episode. “Supervision, to the chick,” wasn’t all Denick had promised.

“SUPERCHICK, look out, ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh.” a rather alarmed twenty something boy screamed at me.

“SCREEEEEECH,” went a truck attempting to stop by the driver pounding his foot on the breaks. I flipped around in the air for a few seconds then everything went dark, then bright again.

“Mrs. Dolores, Mrs. Dolores!” shouted a female voice. Who was Mrs. Dolores? Oh yeah, me, that’s who. A maid had come to wake me up. It must have been a bad dream, or perhaps it was that part of my coma that I never reached. It took me to put two and two together. I guess the reason I never reached that image is because my body knew that it was that image that will appear to signal death. Subconsciously, I knew that the second that image was recalled the plug supporting me would be pulled. I didn’t see it then because it wasn’t my time. It wasn’t then and it isn’t now. What is now? I gazed groggily at the clock on the side table next to my fluffy still pink, still polka-dot, still Paris chic bed. 6:00 A.M. it read.

I hurried of to the impending cleaning power of my bubble filled Jacuzzi/bathtub. I sat in the warm water for about five minutes before I questioned my old reasoning that this was calm, relaxing even. I immediately realized that I wasn’t the same 13 year old anymore, and that this was definitely not something relaxing that took away life’s anxieties anymore. So I jumped out and took a shower, a cool deep shower that calmed my tenseness away. I began questioning what to do about my rather unfilled closet, empty because of my new found body being too big for slim short zeros anymore. I now wore tall threes and although most stars were conscious about their weight I enjoyed being moderately normal. I threw on a thin tank top and skirt that barely fit me. I needed lots of money to go shopping in Bev. Hills’s Rodeo Drive for a whole new wardrobe. So, I grabbed about five platinum credit cards and headed off for clothes.

Modern styles scared me, but I dealt with it and picked out a bunch of retro (which I heard was popular) and some forever classical gorgeous diamonds. Now all I needed was makeup, so I made some calls to Front Page Chick Makeup Inc. and they hooked me up with a large quantity of all of their new products to be immediately delivered to my home. I walked passed a music store and I paused and turned around, and listened to our song on the stereo. Our song being the one that Tyler performed for my movie. I thought for a moment and bought Tyler’s every cd, despite the fact that everything is done by mp3 now. I just craved his voice even though our song had wriggled its way onto my “I’ve heard it too many times for it to still be new,” column. As if by magic my cell phone found its way into my hand and dialed Tyler’s number.

After a few rings a sleepy voice mumbled out, “Hello?”

“Tyler?” I asked.

“Staci, I was wondering when you’d call. I thought I’d have to wait until Monday to talk to you…..”

“I’m listening.” I said trying to hide the pure excitement I felt as I sensed what he was about to say.

“Well, I was kind of wondering if, if you would come to a movie with me.” His mumbled and partially childlike voice pushed out. He obviously wasn’t trying to impress me, with an offer like the movies, but something about him had implanted itself into my memory in an odd way that made me feel gaga about him. I figured that despite his incredible record sales he probably wasn’t all that rich.

“Yeah, let’s see the one with Megan in it because… you know? I just have to support my friends.” I said strangely appealed by his offer.

We met at the theatre. I decided to buy out the show for some privacy because I hadn’t planned on doing much movie watching. As the movie began I was pretended to be interested until the ushers left. Suddenly, Tyler pulled close to me and stroked my hair as if that were the best thing he could come up with. I turned his head towards me and kissed him gently, so he got the idea of why I wanted to come. Soon he got the picture and we began to make out. That was... until the usher came back and I quickly pulled away. We did not much more than that on and off as the usher came and went, until the movie ended. Afterwards all we could do was laugh at the cluelessness of the Cineplex employees.

Since we didn’t get to eat any popcorn because of our kissing I decided ice cream was of the essence. I don’t know why I promise not to forget it, but he ordered double chocolate chip. I guess it was because it told me something about him, but I still couldn’t figure out what. Maybe it was that Tyler was extra to extra. One chip was not enough, with Tyler two chips made sense. I don’t think I told Tyler much about me because I got strawberry. After two licks I started gazing at Tyler. There was his, his smile.

“Staci, did the paparazzi really catch you at a store, and then pursue you while you bought a dress you were wearing?” Tyler asked me out of the blue.

“Uhhh yeah once, how’d you know about that?” I sort of stumbled out.

“Well, I remember six years ago turning on the news, and seeing a clumsy little television star stumble into a BMW while wearing a bluish green gown. You were wearing a sleeveless bluish green gown.” He told me repetitively, almost as though he had been there, as if he had witnessed it and was just remembering the details in a very dreamily nostalgic way.

“You say that like you were there, Ty. Oh, is it okay if I call you that?” I said questioningly.

“Um, yeah that’s fine,” Ty told me in a distracted tone.

“Are you all right?” I asked him. His face looked nervous.

“I knew you.” He said blankly.

“Come again?” I asked him.

“I was there. I was there. Then, I was there and saw it.” He began to shout at me.

“When, when were you where?” I whispered gesturing for him to quiet down.

“I was there when the paparazzi followed you. I used to take photos for a gossip magazine. I know who hit you and I know why they hit you because I was there then, too. Oh, my god! It’s my fault, Staci, I’m sorry.” I think I almost saw a tear as he ran out of the ice cream parlor and stood outside and lit a cigarette, smoked it, and then popped another. I didn’t know he smoked. I stared at him incomprehensively. I just didn’t understand him.

Minutes later he came in and told me he’d take me home. When he did he just let me out, there was no goodbye kiss or hug. All he did was let me out and speed away. My absolute misunderstanding drove me to tears, and they weren’t ordinary tears; they were the kind you got when your dad dies or your husband asks for a divorce after repetitive cheating. The kind you got when a secret ruins your life, or the kind you got when what’s left of your sense of reality disappears beneath your fresh pedicure.