Inspired and Dedicated to a Fat Bastard with the Initals L.P.
********
© Marlen
published by us
rated : R
General warnings apply ! No stealing, copying or changing and then publishing it as yours ! It´s ours and only ours !
********
"Dani," the voice called, breaking into my dream. I moaned and tried to ignore it.
"Dani!" the voice repeated, more irritated this time. "Wake up, you have an interview in half an hour!" That statement caused me to open my eyes wide and sit straight. That proved to be a bad idea when I felt the stitches in my shoulder and the bandages across my ribcage pull and I nearly screamed in pain.
I looked incredulously at my manager. "An INTERVIEW?" I managed to get out, though it hurt to talk. "What the fuck?"
"Watch your language!" Johnny Wright said, clapping his hand over my mouth. "Anyone could have heard you!"
I was too mad to stop. I'd suffered a lot of injustice at the hands of my managers. "I don't care! If I'm mad I curse. Millions of teenagers curse. I'm not going to cause it!"
I must have been insane to sign on with Transcontinental Records. I'd often laughed at the guys on the TV show Making the Band. 'After his 2 biggest acts left AND sued him, what moron would work for the fat bastard named Lou Pearlman?'
Apparently, my middle name was moron. It's much easier for those outside the business to judge the actions of those in it. When you are so destitute that you're willing to work as a street musician to pay for your next meal, or you are sleeping on the streets of Orlando, you will sign any piece of paper that says 'you will be fed, clothed, and paid.' You don't care how much you get, all you want is to survive.
That's basically how I ended up in contract with Transcon. And, to tell the truth, they had done a good job of getting my music exposed to the world. Dani Dorsey was becoming a household name. Sure I hated that I had the free time of a Vietnamese factory worker for NIKE, and the personal freedom of a child in Catholic school, but I was famous. People began to know who I was. When you've spent most of your life as a nobody, that feels good. You tend to not even care where it comes from.
So, three years into my contract, 2 multi-platinum albums, and what did I have to show for it? Nothing. I barely had enough money to pay for my apartment, food, and clothing. I had no say on any of the music I recorded, I could not record anything I'd written, and the fat bastard was getting even fatter off of money that should have been mine. I didn't know it then of course. The asshole had blinded me so much that I believed him to be the wonderful father figure he claimed he was. How was I to know? My father walked out on my mom when I was 4 years old.
Fitting that it took a near death experience to open my eyes. I was on the road to recovery from walking pneumonia- which, of course, I'd worked right through- no rest for Transcon acts. I'd actually performed over a week's worth of shows while I was doped up on medication. The tour was over and I would have three whole weeks of rest before I had to head back into the studio to record album #3. I was too well trained to complain at this point. Besides, I loved performing. It was just- well, everything else- that made me seriously contemplate suicide. Luckily, I had enough self-respect left not to. Finally I'd be going home.
That was when the plane had crashed. An emergency landing in a clearing somewhere in Kentucky that left over half of the passengers and crew dead. I was glad to have survived, but I was injured enough that it would take more than my three weeks to recuperate fully.
So it was completely inexplicable that only one full day after I’d recovered consciousness for the first time, Johnny was telling me I had a press conference.
"You need to keep your voice DOWN!" he hissed at me. "And don’t argue. We HAVE scheduled a conference, you WILL attend, and you WILL be civil!" "Says who?" I groaned. "I can barely BREATHE let alone walk, talk OR smile!" "Says Me, says Lou, and says your contract with Transcon that says you will." Johnny grinned evilly, knowing he had me caught. I had nowhere NEAR enough money to attempt breaking my contract. I had to do what he said. Wincing as I got into the wheelchair that had been placed by the bedside, I let Johnny push me out towards the room that had been set up for the interview.
*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Hey Frick," Nick Carter said, heading into the entertainment room that consisted of a sofa and a TV in the back of the tourbus. "Whatcha watching?" "MTV," Brian said, a slightly bitter tone in his voice. "News 1515- apparently they're going to broadcast a live interview with Dani Dorsey." "Are you kidding me?" Nick blurted out. "So soon? Didn't I hear that the doctors weren't even sure she'd LIVE?"
Brian glared at the TV. "I'm sure Johnny and Lou feel that she has recovered enough to handle the press."
"Bri, These are the same people who had you onstage only weeks after HEART SURGERY! With oxygen tanks offstage 'just in case!'"
"That was my point. Shh, it's starting."
"This is Brian McFadden with MTV News 1515. In just a few moments we will be connecting live with Fairfax County General Hospital, just outside Washington D.C., where pop princess Dani Dorsey is recovering after a plane crash last week that left 23 people dead and Dorsey herself in a coma, along with other injuries that have not been released by her doctor at this time. And I'm receiving word that the conference is starting Dave Holmes is standing by to report. Here it comes."
As the shot changed and zoomed in on the zoo of journalists and reporters that crowded the small room inside the hospital, Brian felt his blood begin to boil. This was just the kind of insensitive stunt that the Wright management team loved to pull. When Brian caught sight of how frail and shocked the 19 year old singer looked, he had seen enough. He reached out to turn of the TV in disgust but was stopped by Nick's hand on his arm. "No," Nick said, his voice hard. "Leave it on. I want to see this."
"Miss Dorsey! Miss Dorsey!" dozens of reporters all screamed at the same time. Both men watched Dani flinch visibly as she fought the urge to block the noise out by clapping her hands over her ears.
"Miss Dorsey, what do you remember about the crash?"
Dani swallowed and then spoke. "I'm afraid I don't remember too much about the crash Jason," she said, answering the reporter by name, as she would do throughout the interview. It was something that Dani believed, if you treated the reporter as if you thought they were your friend, they would feel as if you WERE their friend, and she could hedge questions more easily. "I don't remember much of anything except waking up in the hospital yesterday evening."
"Miss Dorsey will this turn of events postpone your next album?"
Brian and Nick marveled at Dani's calm tone as she answered questions, to a casual observer it was hard to tell how much she disliked being there, how her actions were taken against her will. To the boys, it was a matter of 'been there, done that.' They caught the subdlties; how forced her smile was, and the pain in her eyes that she tried to hide from the cameras. "Miss Dorsey!" One loud reporter spoke above the rest. "There have been rumors that Justin Timberlake from Nsync has sent flowers. Any particular reason he may have?"
Nick glanced at Brian. "Wow," he said. "I found a new contestant for world's dumbest reporter."
"Dani," a pleasant voice said, and Dani relaxed a bit. "before I ask a question I'd just like to say how much I appreciate you taking the time to answer our questions."
"Thank you Dave," Dani said, "It's always nice to see you."
"I'd say the same for you, but I'd rather not see you in the present surroundings." Dani smiled genuinely for the first time and even laughed a bit before the searing pain raced through her ribs. "Oh my, I'm sorry," Dave Holmes said, mortified that he's caused her pain.
"It's alright," Dani said, calming down and attempting another small smile. "I'm afraid this will have to be the last question though."
"No problem," Dave smiled back. "Noticing you have a leg in a cast and require the wheelchair, do you think you will be able to dance again anytime soon?"
A tense murmur spread throughout the crowd. Brian and Nick watched as Dani's face paled considerably.
"I-I" she stuttered. "I haven't actually had a chance to discuss-"
Lou cut her off, stepping into view from the side of the platform. "Dani will be right as rain in just a little bit, she'll be back on tour before you know it," he said into the mic, giving her what looked like a reassuring shoulder squeeze. Dani winced.
"Get off the screen you fat sonofabitch." Brian and Nick turned to see AJ standing behind the sofa, his brown eyes angry. He held his hand out in exasperation. "Can't he tell he's hurting her?"
"Does he care?" Brian asked. They turned back to the screen.
"Well, that's good to hear Dani," Dave said, trying to cover up for Dani's slip, "Thanks again for taking the time to talk to us."
"You're welcome," Dani said, her voice strained. "I'm feeling a bit tired now so I think I'll leave," the bodyguard that pushed Dani out of the room couldn't go fast enough in her opinion.
The door behind her had just closed when Johnny stormed up to her.
"What did you just do?" he bellowed at her. "You still have five minutes left in the interview! Lou has to stay out there now and cover for you!"
"Leave me alone Johnny!" Dani croaked as the tears started to flow. The combination of pain, self-detestation, and fear- fear for the future and her career- pushed themselves to the surface and Dani just couldn't hold it in anymore. "Just- Just leave me alone!" She grabbed the wheelchair with her good hand and tried to hurry it along as she was pushed back into her room. Still crying she reached out for her doctor. "I do not want Johnny Wright or Lou Pearlman allowed in my room," she told him, her face stern.
"Yes Miss Dorsey," the doctor said.
Inside the tourbus, AJ grabbed the remote and turned the TV off, cutting off the voice and picture of their one time friend and backer. "It makes me so sick," he said. "How can anyone work for that bastard? God even Nsync was smart enough to get out of their deal."
"It's not always so easy Aj," Brian said, his voice quiet. "We believed for a long time that Lou was working in our best interests. And you remember how it was in the beginning! You're so happy to be making music that you don't really care or notice what you sign."
"There are some things about this industry that make me sick," Nick said in disgust.
"And Lou Pearlman is about six of them," AJ finished for his friend.
Their converstation was interrupted by Kevin's deep southern accent as it ricocheted throughout the bus. "Guys, come on, we gotta go," he called. "We have a sound check in fifteen minutes."