The All or Nothing Game

Eva slid to the floor and buried her head in Granny's lap and as Granny gently caressed her head they were both silent for a while.

"I'll go then!" Eva looked up, almost defiantly, and they hugged again for a long time.

"You'll have to teach me how to keep track of you, that Internet thing, you know . . . " Granny said after a while, and Eva cried and laughed at the same time.

**********

That is how Eva came to stand in front of the meticulously groomed and flawless beauty of the woman called Maryka Vollerhofen. They were in a room in one of the larger hotels in Fort Lauderdale, and Eva kept looking over the head of the other woman at the milling life among all the slick yachts in the harbor outside the window. They had just signed the contracts and were now engaged in a conversation, which was meant to be leisurely and relaxed.

"You must call me Maryka," the woman insisted. "No one uses surnames here you know." And she smiled; a smile that never reached her eyes.

Eva understood that this was not just pleasantries. It indicated what tone Maryka expected the present setup to have. It also indicated how Eva was to meet Julian Woolfe himself eventually although that was never said in so many words.

Eva was not unfamiliar with Maryka's career if one could call it that. Being of Dutch descent, she had met Julian in England when his career was on the rise. She had since then been working close to him for almost all the time he had hit it big. There were rumors telling of a brief affair many years ago, and - if that was true - it said something about the woman, who stayed on after it was ended to manage the career of her ex-lover. Rumors also had it that she was worse than any bodyguard when it came to shielding her charge from "unwanted" attention. The fact remained however that Julian accepted having her around and depended deeply on her to take care of all the practical details in his life. Thus, Eva concluded in her mind, it was indeed vital to be on good terms with this lady.

"Let's go and see if we can find Julian so that you can be introduced and he can let you know how he wants you to work with the upcoming shows." Maryka rose, ending the conversation.

They went along the corridor on a carpet that was so thick and luxurious that their feet made no sound. It was an almost eerie feeling, and for a little while Eva felt as if she was wrapped in an unreal dream. But she was soon to be recalled to the present. Outside a door further down there were two men positioned, one sitting down and the other standing up. Eva realized that they must be Julian's bodyguards. And at that moment it sort of hit home for the first time that she had moved into another world. Her own life seemed very far away all of a sudden. Maryka said something to one of the guards in a low voice; he opened the door and led them into a small hall with yet another door, which hopefully led to the part of the building Julian occupied. Eva didn't know that such hotel suites even existed. Maryka knocked on the inner door, and Eva heard a voice answer on the other side. Then she was unceremoniously ushered into the presence of the man himself.

Julian Woolfe certainly didn't look like a superstar at the very first glance. He lounged, rather carelessly dressed, in front of the TV and had apparently been watching one of the numerous talk shows, which ran uninterrupted on the TV channels in the hotel. He put down his teacup and rose when they entered. At first he looked briefly at Maryka and then he concentrated his gaze on Eva. And he smiled - that wolfish grin Eva knew from so many photos. She took in all of her impressions in one breath: that he wasn't as young as his photos wanted to convey, that he had small lines in his face, which made it more interesting than those buffed and retouched plastic versions of him, which were spread everywhere around town for the moment, that he had extraordinarily beautiful features with high cheekbones, a prominent sharp nose, a full and sensitive mouth and above all those mesmerizing almost steely eyes, which seemed to penetrate her now.

"Julian dear," Maryka murmured behind her. "This is Eva Sanderson, who has so graciously accepted helping us out now that Janet Birkman isn't available any longer."

Julian raised his eyebrows and extended his hand for a greeting. When she took it, she felt that it was warm and strong.

"Where do you come from?" was his first and rather unconventional question. Eva was taken aback and felt confused all of a sudden.

"South Dakota," she answered and could have bitten her tongue when realizing that New York would have sounded so much better under the circumstances.

His grin widened, and he started to walk around her. Eva's discomfort and uncertainty rose with each step he took. What kind of survey was this? Would she have to accept to be subject to it? She heard him click his tongue twice in small, almost inaudible, appreciative noises.

"Wow," he laughed, "I had no idea of that so much style and elegance could come out of that place."

Eva couldn't prevent an awful blush from traveling to her throat and cheeks. And anger came too.

"You evidently haven't been there, I can tell . . . Sir," she added in a measured tone before she even had time to think of what she answered. And at the same time she experienced seeing what he saw. A slender, almost delicate woman with fair skin and just a hint of freckles, long auburn hair, loosely tied in a careless knot at the nape of her neck, soft full lips, prominent eyebrows giving character to her face and liquid violet-blue eyes. His appreciation was evident and he also seemed amused by her talking back.

"No offense, no offense!" he touched her shoulder lightly. "And by the way, if you 'Sir' me one more time, you'll be out of here before you even have time to say 'I'm sorry.' I'm Julian and you are?"

"Eva!" she said taking his hand, which he offered again as if signing a peace contract. She felt that the awful moment had passed. She was approved of and now she could laugh too.

Maryka made a small cough behind them and brought them back to the present.

"Julian," she said, "what time do you want Eva to turn up before the show? Since this is the first time, you may want her to come a bit earlier perhaps?"

"Yes I'd say," he replied, and the laughter left his face to give room to the professional. He turned again to Eva. "I will be on stage at around ten in the evening so it'll be fine if you could turn up at half past eight. Better let someone show you the premises. You've been backstage on a set like this before?" The last bit was a question. Eva shook her head and Maryka intervened.

"Don't worry Julian; I'll take care of this. Eight thirty this evening she'll be in your dressing room."

When the two women left the room, after having said their good-byes, Eva reflected on Maryka again. She wondered to herself how many times Maryka had said those words: "Don't worry Julian." There must have been countless needs for it.

**********

Maryka asked one of the young roadies, Martin, to take Eva around the stage -- both back and front. Eva was really in awe of its construction, rising high above her head like a complex skeleton of steel. Hundreds of workers were crawling around it to get the lines, wires, electricity, light and sound in order for tonight's concert. The sound check had already begun, and Eva could see that the musicians in the band were milling about the stage, testing their equipment.

"Let's take a moment to meet the band," Martin ventured. "They could do with a break." So together they climbed the stage.

Eva had read countless articles about them and had heard them play too, partly on audio recordings and partly from live sessions on TV. It would, of course, be a totally different thing to hear them live. It was a thoroughly international band Julian had put together when he started touring again some years ago. But however disparate they seemed as personalities when they entered the stage they became a tight-knit unit.

Steven Macintosh from Philadelphia was one of the two guitarists -- the hot and trashy one according to Julian. Steven had become the spokesman for the group, more or less self-appointed. The others didn't seem to mind but were rather happy to let anyone with his verve deal with all the practical details. The second guitarist was Klaus Schiller from Berlin - the poetic one as Julian had once described him. When let loose -- and he often was -- he would climb heights with his instrument, lost to the world. The bass was played by a phenomenon in the music world, Daren Ndolo, who originally came from Nigeria but had been living in San Francisco for years. Daren was a natural on rhythms. He could pick up the most intricate one imagined and get it into his fingers and body within a take, never to forget it again. It was as if it was built into him, and he was a source of endless fascination for Julian. Daren was the solid rock the band was leaning on; with him present, getting the perfect beat from the start, everyone felt safe on stage. Cooperating closely with Daren to complete the exquisite rhythm section, which was the trademark of Julian's present band, was the drummer Bo Lassiter from Jamaica. And lastly to enhance and put that shimmering touch to the music was Rupert Hain on synth. Rupert was from Manchester in England and had worked closely with Julian since the beginning of his career. He knew exactly what Julian wanted and not many words were wasted on explanations or intentions between the two of them.

Steven was approaching and met them halfway. He looked with curiosity and apprehension at Eva and broke into a little improvised welcome speech when Martin introduced her. Steven brought her to the band.

"Eva now?" Klaus said with his slight German accent as he focused his soft, almost sad eyes on her. "Well, as long as I don't see an Adam in tow, I'm confident that this is gonna be swell."

Eva flashed a smile towards him and turned to Daren, marveling over the almost statuesque musician in front of her. He would make an excellent model for her to paint! Daren seemed to feel her appreciation because he flexed his well-trained body a bit extra for her to the great amusement of the others. The elegant Rupert Hain bowed ceremoniously over her hand and pretended to blow a kiss on it, and Bo Lassiter drummed up a small fanfare on his instrument.

"Well guys," Eva called out to them as she was on her way off the stage with Martin, who was already backstage, "I guess I'll be seeing a lot of you -- and I don't mind that at all!"

She lifted a hand in the air, made the V-sign and was greeted with appreciative whistles and a cacophony of instrumental noise.

Eva realized soon enough, when entering the backstage area, that it was a good idea to get some knowledge of the place in advance because without any guide she would soon be lost. Martin pointed out all the different stairs and doors and explained to what area they belonged and led to. Eva asked him to concentrate on how to find her way to Julian's dressing room in the fastest manner because that was to be the only essential thing for her to know in the beginning. She would have an hour and a half with Julian during this first session before the show, and she would have to be at hand when he went off stage for a break, helping him to touch up his makeup and hair if needed. The rest of the maze, which made up the backstage, she would have to learn about later. Martin agreed with her and showed her in detail how to get to Julian's room in the best and quickest manner if she came from outside. There were security checks, which she would have to be prepared for, several of them, and she must always be sure to wear her pass card fully exposed at all times. He clicked his tongue in admiration when she showed him her new one. "AAA" was printed on it, which was short for Access All Areas, meaning that she belonged to the few individuals on the premises, who had full access to Julian's person.

As they talked and walked around the stage the sun started to set, and the place was soon to be filled with an audience full of anticipation. A loudspeaker boomed over the arena, announcing that it was time to leave the front of the house, and Eva thanked Martin for the guided tour as everyone started to withdraw backstage or leave the venue to come back later.

"If you want to," Martin said and looked shyly at her from the corner of his eye, "I can show you a marvelous spot to watch the gig from. I mean, you don't have to sit around in the dressing room all night, do you?"

Eva raised her eyebrows and smiled in pleasant surprise.

"Oh! How nice of you. Can it be done? And we won't be in anyone's way? And can I quickly get back to Julian's place when I need to?"

Martin laughed at all her eager questions.

"No prob at all. When you're done with all that makeup stuff and he's on his way out here, I'll be waiting for you behind that big loudspeaker and from there I'll show you where to go. Okay?"

"Okay! Yes! Thank you."

They parted company because Eva wanted to get a bite to eat before the evening started. She hadn't eaten all day and all of a sudden she realized that she felt famished.

**********

It was nearly eight thirty in the evening when Eva returned to the arena. The atmosphere was now totally different from what it had been earlier during the day. Now it was charged with electricity, a seething pot of anticipation and common yearning. The band, which was to introduce Julian, was already at work, and Eva felt the whole stage vibrate with sound. She hastened towards Julian's dressing room and had to pass three security-checks before she found herself in the area where it was situated. She knocked briefly and entered without waiting for an answer. After all, they had made an appointment for this exact time. And he was waiting for her. They greeted each other, and Eva put her small suitcase down on the floor. She felt nervous, she had to admit that, but she also knew that as soon as she started to work, she would snap out of that feeling. He looked her over quietly and expectantly.

"First of all," she said, "I want to know if there is something in particular, which you wish me to concentrate on?"

"Nope," he smiled teasingly, "I'll leave it all to you tonight. Let's see what the result is like when you've finished."

So, he was going to challenge her? Well, he could try!

"All right," she smiled, "fair enough. What will you wear tonight?"

He pointed at the costume displayed on a hanger in the room. It was a bright yellow jacket and equally bright yellow and white striped trousers.

"I see," she said, "yellow is not an easy color, but we'll manage that too."

Then she moved around him to get in front of him, between him and the mirror so that she could look directly at his face and hair. And all of a sudden her gaze was a different one; now she looked at him in a totally professional way. It was as if he sensed this because he relaxed in the chair and extended his long legs on either side of her. She took care to look at all the details this time, the flaws and the features which needed enhancing. She moved around him and swept a big towel around his chest and shoulders and then she put her fingers into his hair -- the first time ever that she touched him in anything but a formal way. Then she let her supple fingers slip along his scalp, massaging his head slowly and steadily. He wasn't prepared for this, but reacted as everyone had done before him when treated to her initial massage.

"Mmmmmm . . . " he murmured involuntarily and let his head fall back against the rest.

"Good," she encouraged. "That's what it's for, to relax. That's the best thing before any session. It brings the blood into circulation and unwinds all the tension. Even if we only have an hour to do your makeup in the future, I'll always start off with a quick massage."

She could see a look which almost looked like regret in his face when she stopped, but he made no comments about it. Instead, she quickly started trying out a base color for covering his face, both with his own skin in mind and with an eye on what he would wear. She worked with speed but not in haste as she kept looking at his face, but she didn't see Julian; she saw a face to build up and paint. All the while he had his eyes fastened on her with enormous concentration, but he didn't try to meet her eyes. She accentuated his prominent cheekbones and sensitive nostrils and applied a daring eye makeup for him. She outlined his lips before painting them, and she could see them quiver slightly when she drew the line around them with her soft pencil. She had a very special mascara, which she wanted to try on him. She was quite aware of that he often displayed his androgyny and wanted to stress this feature a bit more. The innuendo between his looks and his actions would not be lost on his fans; she was sure of that. She drew back and surveyed the result. Not bad. He looked like the alluring wolf she wanted to convey to the audience. Lastly, she turned to his hair. It wasn't common that makeup artists did hair too, but that was one of the special features in her training and maybe why she had landed this job in the first place. She sculpted his hair and yet made it look as if he had casually drawn his fingers through it. It must look natural, she thought. Before finishing off, she asked him to cover his face with his hands while she applied the hairspray and then she was done with him. She moved behind him and asked him to take a look. And now their eyes met in the mirror. He nodded slowly.

"Mmm, I like it! Good. What have you done to my hair? It looks different?"

"It's a special spray to be used in spotlight. It brings out the color of the hair and lets it shine with a light of its own. Up there on stage you'll look almost translucent, generating your own light. It mustn't be too much, just a touch of it, you know."

"I have one reservation," she added. "I haven't been able to see what these colors on your face will look like in the spotlights, and I won't know until I see you out there," she smiled.

"You'll watch the show?"

"Yes!" There was no idea lying about that fact. "From the wings."

"Where will you be standing?"

"Oh, I don't really know exactly where. I'll have someone to show me how to get there, but I promise you that I won't be in anyone's way, and I'll be here when you need me again."

"Oh, that's all right. I think it's a good idea that you should watch the show. You'll know the basics then, so to speak, and I'd recommend that in the future. Very good idea."

"By the way," he added lightly after the briefest of hesitations, "who's going to show you where to stand?"

"A guy called Martin, one of the roadies I think," she answered, still intent on not making the truth fancier than it was.

"I see," he added after a brief pause and evidently the matter was closed for him.

He rose from the chair and flung the towel and also the dressing gown he had been wearing aside, only to reveal that he wasn't wearing a shirt underneath. He had a body like a Greek god, all smooth and shiny, muscles rippling beneath his flawless skin in a measured way. Eva took a step back and couldn't help widening her eyes at the sight of him. She didn't want to show him that she had reacted, but now it was too late. And she also observed that he had noted it from the corner of his eye. She collected herself quickly though.

"Well, I'm done with you! I guess you want to let the dresser in. I'll see you before the encore."

He moved and faced her directly, focusing his deadly charm on her; the one he otherwise usually sent out over an audience of 40,000 spectators.

"Enjoy yourself! See you later, Eva."

She felt as if she'd been hit by an invisible thing when she heard him use her name. It was personal in a way that hadn't been necessary. But she smiled widely.