I’ve been having nightmares since before I could remember that I would sleep through my first show. Well, sometimes I’d wake up a couple minutes before and have to go on stage with my pajamas and some major bed head. Usually when I wake up in a cold sweat I can remind myself that I do not have a show coming up and manage to get back to sleep. And then I usually sleep through my alarm anyway and miss out on something else. I always sleep through my alarm. That is why I set five alarms; my cell phone, the alarm clock next to my bed, a wake up call from the front desk and two my own personal alarm clocks. I shot up when I heard the loud mixture and had a mini heart attack, just like I always do. Maybe someday I’ll get used to it.
I reminded myself that I had set the alarms and it was not some sort of an alarm sent out by the government to warn about a possible nuclear attack or something. I got out of bed and turned each of the alarms off, grabbed my IPOD and put it on the Enya play list before laying flat on the floor, closing my eyes and mediating. I don’t really think this is how you actually meditate, but it’s how I do it. Usually in the movies people sit with their legs all twisted together and their hands up in the air. I think that looks silly. I feel much better laying flat on my back and breathing. It’s the Enya, she clams me down.
I took a shower and managed to bite every single one of my fingernails down as far as possible. My piano teacher when I was little used to yell at me because my nails were too long and she said you can’t play the piano with long nails. I cried when my father made me cut them, but ever since then I’ve been biting them because I was afraid she’d yell at me if they were too long. Now I have a physical problem, whenever I’m nervous I bite my nails down to the knuckle. It’s like she’d rise up from her grave to yell at me. Wait, come to think of it, I don’t think she’s dead.
I wanted to get to the venue as early as possible so I called for the limo at around ten. I don’t go on until 7:30 but I wish I were there a little earlier. There were already a bunch of kids outside, screaming once again when they saw the limo go by. I think I need to get a sign that reads: I am NOT Justin Timberlake, just so they don’t waist their excitement on me.
When I stepped inside it was pretty empty. There were a couple people hanging around but for the most part no one was there yet. I walked up to the stage and sat down at the piano. Playing is really the only way I can calm myself down… well besides my semi meditation with Enya.
“You’re here early” I looked up from the keyboard to see Justin Timberlake wearing the same gray sweatpants and white t-shirt he had on yesterday before the run thru. I thought he would be more of a pretty boy and never be caught dead in the same outfit more than once, never mind two days in a row when he clearly could not have washed it. That makes me feel better about him. I heard he wears underwear once and then throws it away and gets a brand new pair. I’ll have to ask him about that. Maybe I should wait a couple days though; it’s probably not a good opening conversation.
“So are you” that came out more accusatory than I wanted, “Were you rehearsing? I’m sorry, I just came up here”
“No, no you’re cool. I’m just checking everything out. Did you sleep alright?”
“No, not at all”
He chuckled, “Me neither”
“Why not?”
“I can never sleep the night before the first show,” he answered with a smile, and he told me last night that it’s not a big deal and made me feel like I was crazy for being nervous. And Justin Timberlake can’t sleep before his first show of every tour. He’s been doing this since he was little. Is that what I have to look forward to? Every night before the first show not getting any sleep?
“But you told me not to worry”
“Well I didn’t want to get you more freaked out, you seemed to be freaked enough,” his smile told me he didn’t mean it as an insult. I wouldn’t have taken it as an insult anyway, I know I’m freaked out and I’ve never been good at hiding it.
“It’s scary”
“I know, it’s scary for me too. But as soon as you step out and see all the kids it’s the best feeling in the world”
“Do you have any advice for me Justin Timberlake?”
“Yeah, stop calling me Justin Timberlake” he smiled
“Sorry, Snuckums” I just feel like he’s not standing in front of me. It’s hard to call him by his first name. If Michael Jackson were standing in front of me I would not call him Michael. It’s out of respect. Although I shouldn’t compare Justin Timberlake with Michael Jackson. I hope they’re no too similar. At least not with that whole molesting little boys thing.
“Just don’t let it happen again Pooky” he chuckled, “You don’t need any advice from me, just do your thing”
“I would really like some advice though”
He took a deep breath and nodded his head. He’s thinking about it, I didn’t think it’d be that hard, “Do you want to get some breakfast?”
“Is that your way of changing the subject?”
“Nah” he laughed, “I’m just hungry. I’m thinking”
“Alright” I said as I followed him off the stage and into the catering area they were still setting up.
“Did you have fun last night?” he asked as we went through the line
“Yeah” I nodded my head, it’s not a complete lie, “I’m still a little upset though”
“Why?” he asked as we sat down at a small table
“About my drink”
He nodded his head and laughed, “Oh, I’m sorry I had to be the one to tell you”
“It’s ok, I just don’t know if I really believe you”
“You don’t believe me?” he asked out of disbelief, “You think I made it up?”
“No, I just think maybe you have your facts confused”
“Alright, alright” he laughed and nodded his head, “I’ll prove it to you, give it time”
“I will” I hope he got confused because that really would ruin everything if my self-invented drink was already a drink, “Where’s my advice?” he’s trying to get me distracted but it isn’t going to work.
“Alright” he paused, “What do you want advice for performing?”
“Everything”
“I think you have the performing thing down though. Just don’t be nervous” he paused to laugh at the face I gave him telling him that was much easier said than done, “I know that’s what everyone says and it’s impossible. But trust me you’ll make yourself sick before you go on and that’s fine but as soon as you play you’re golden” he paused again and played with the straw in his orange juice, he better not think that’s enough advice, “It helps if you have a shot of tequila before you go on, that’s always helped me”
I heard myself laugh, “What else?”
“You really got performing down, I don’t know what else to say. Talk to the crowd, make it personal. Look around; don’t keep your head buried in the piano. Take it all in, you only get one first performance in front of a sold out crowd”
I nodded my head, “Now you’re making me more nervous” I could feel the hives and tried to take deep breaths and rub my neck so it wouldn’t be so obvious
“Nah,” he laughed, “As for uh… the other stuff. Don’t read tabloids”
“That’s funny that you think tabloids care about me”
“They will. I’m telling you in a few months everyone’s going to know your name. Don’t ever read them, don’t get caught up in the shit, stay away from the party girls” he paused, “I know I don’t have to tell you that. Don’t let everyone do everything for you. Stay grounded. Keep your family close. Don’t trust too many people. Keep your guard up. Beware of new friends, or old friends that you never talked to that are now coming around after hearing your voice on the radio”
“So much for not having any advice”
“Yeah,” he laughed, “You get me started I just can’t stop”
“Please, continue”
“I don’t know, I think I got it covered. Just always pay attention, don’t slack and think you can trust everyone. There’s shady people and they’ll try and take advantage of you, don’t let them” I nodded my head and he continued, “Always work hard. Don’t think that because you made it you don’t have to try so hard. You’ll be fine; you’ve got a good head on your shoulders. But if you need anything, you just let me know. I’ve been through it all” he paused, “But I have to get going, radio interview” he stood up and stretched his arms over his head
“Alright. Thank you Snuckums”
“Anytime Pooky. Don’t psych yourself up too much, just relax” he said as he put a hand on each of my shoulders and gave me a quick massage. The hives were up my neck before he left. Relax? Not an option.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Thanks so much for the reviews. I was really nervous about this one but I'm glad you're letting me know what you think. Thanks for reading!
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