The All or Nothing Game

"Yes! I will! I'm sure of it."

And then she hastily left the room before anything else could be said.

**********

The general feeling backstage was one of elation. Everyone seemed charged to the maximum. Eva found Martin fidgeting at their meeting place and he seemed anxious about getting on the move.

"I thought you wouldn't turn up," he breathed as if it was necessary to keep the conversation clandestine. "Look, I want to show you something before we go to the stage."

He took her by the hand and brought her over to a big announcement board near the stairs, which led to the dressing rooms. It was a plastic board where the written messages could be erased and replaced by new ones, just like in school, but not quite as big.

"Here," he said, "you can always see what's going on for the night. All 'surprises' are listed here because to us they mustn't be surprises. You can see exactly where they are planning to take the break and what numbers they'll do in the encore and so on. And if there are any guest artists, their names will show up here too. He usually does 'Standing Alone' before the break, preceded by 'Slaughterhouse.' But this way you'll never have to guess and be in doubt, you can always plan your evening."

"Thank you!" Eva laughed. "My self-appointed guardian angel!" she added teasingly as he tried in vain to hide his blushing.

But soon they had other things to think about. A giant roar from the audience on the other side advised them of that Julian must have entered the stage at last. So as not to miss anything, they hurried up onto the elevated platform and hid from view behind a giant spotlight unit. Eva looked out in total exhilaration over the billowing mass of human bodies, which seemed to move forward as one entity when Julian strode out on the stage. From where she was standing - she was at the extreme left of the stage -- she could also see one of the giant screens clearly. This was going to be a good position to view it all from.

**********

The concert lasted two hours in all. To Eva it could have gone on forever. Her own crucial moment came when she had to be back in Julian's dressing room just before the encore. It was a funny feeling being in the room alone, waiting for him, but she could follow the action on stage even there. A small monitor on the wall was broadcasting the show to his quarters so that he was constantly updated on what was going on up there on the stage. While waiting, she heated the damp towels she had brought along and took out some powder to use to take the shine away from his face. There wasn't going to be time to redo anything, only to repair and freshen up. She saw that the dresser had put out a new T-shirt for him to change into. It was evilly green and would stand out, no doubt, on stage. She contemplated the almost aggressive note he had chosen for this particular evening and wondered if it changed or if this was the "mood" of the present tour. But soon enough there was no more time to think and reflect as she saw "Standing Alone" drawing to its close, which meant that they would soon be down here, all of them. The band also had their dressing rooms nearby but not directly linked to Julian's. Clamor and footsteps told her that they were on their way.

The security guard threw the door open, and Julian came into the room with a rush, instantly bringing it to life with his presence. He greeted her briefly, but seemed occupied in a way that didn't invite conversation. He stripped his wet jacket off, and she handed him a damp, warm towel to wipe his body with. His semi-nakedness didn't bother her this time because she knew what to expect. He pulled the fresh T-shirt over his head and slumped into the chair in front of the mirror. She looked closely at his face, scrutinizing him, and went about retouching it here and there, finishing it off with a thin film of powder just to get a fresh look back again. Then she brushed his hair and set it with another cloud of hairspray. He looked ready to go on stage again, but wasn't evidently prepared for it quite yet. He lit a cigarette and inhaled the smoke greedily. Still, they hadn't uttered a word to each other; which was fine with Eva. She wasn't here to chat, she was here to work, and if he wasn't in the mood to talk then it wasn't for her to initiate a conversation.

She went about packing her things together and was almost ready to go when she heard him clear his throat behind her.

"Having a good time?" he asked

"Yes!" She nodded and smiled at the same time. "It's . . . totally fabulous." She didn't know what more to say.

But he was already on his way out of the room, flashing a quick smile in her direction. When he had gone, she hurried back to Martin, who was still positioned on the platform and they enjoyed the encore together.

When it was all over and the lights had gone down, it was as if reality emerged again from the transformation the concert had created. Everyone was still elated and laughter and shouting filled the air.

"Come on," Martin urged her. "Let's go out with the others for a beer or something."

Eva hesitated; she was so tired by now that she was almost shaking. This day seemed to harbor the happenings of four, and all she really wished for was to flatten out in bed.

"Oh please, come on. It's sleeping-in time tomorrow. We're off to New Orleans then, but not until the afternoon," Martin pleaded and at last she gave in, thinking too of the impression she wanted to make on her new friends. They might think that it was impolite and supercilious of her not to show up for her first after-show party.

So she left the venue with Martin to join others from the crew and the band, who were now waiting outside the gates. She wasn't at all prepared for the great commotion going on out there. Several TV crews had turned up with their heavy equipment, trying to catch a glimpse of Julian for an interview. She could see him standing beside the car, which was to bring him back to his hotel. She could also see that he was in the company of Maryka. The bodyguards moved about restlessly, and behind the fence, on the other side of the street, the fans tried to claw their way up towards the best position for taking photos and perhaps to get an autograph if the object of their attention deigned to consider that. But Julian ducked into the black limousine as soon as he was ready and in a flash the car was gone.

"We've heard of a great place with Mexican food and cold beer here in Lauderdale," she heard a voice say behind her. When she turned around, Klaus and Steven were grinning at her. She laughed and nudged Martin.

"Let's go then," she called out, and together they hailed a couple of taxis and were soon off into the velvety dark Florida night.

To be honest, Eva didn't remember much of the night. When she finally got back into her hotel room -- situated in a much more modest environment than the luxury palace Julian shared with Maryka -- she only heard a humming noise in her head, a grand mixture of laughter, conversation and late-night jamming, which the band had treated the little restaurant to. It had been so great. She was happy that she had decided to join in but also hoped that she had been coherent and not made a fool of herself. Klaus had said something about drowning in her violet eyes, and Martin had raised his voice a bit, but other than that Eva was quite convinced of that she had been accepted as part of this setup, this almost living entity, made out of all the individuals, who worked in a giant effort on a night like this for a common goal: to make this fairy story come true for the baying crowd, who would live with the memory of the incredible show for years to come.

**********

The weeks that followed were strange, hard, hilarious and unreal. Eva realized soon that she still had a lot to learn about this surrounding, her new universe. There were a lot of unwritten rules to take into account. She couldn't address Daren, who was married, in the same way as Steven or Klaus, with whom she could flirt at her leisure. Rupert Hain was unreadable, not unlike Julian even, and she took care to be sophisticated and elegant in his presence. Bo was the hardest to reach. She had an inkling that he was on some stuff or other because he wasn't present. However, this was one of those things, which wasn't discussed. Bo did what was asked of him on stage and with brilliance too, and as long as he did that, Steven said nothing about it, especially not to Julian. Martin had of course fallen in love with her; she knew that without asking. He kept "bumping" into her at all the odd hours, asked her out, proposed plans for them and jealously guarded the platform where they still kept watching the shows together. Eva was very fond of Martin, but she took great care not to involve herself personally with anyone. Life here was complicated enough. She found out too that she wasn't alone in experiencing that rehearsing/working in the presence of Maryka was something to endure rather than to look forward to. Eva couldn't really put her finger on the unease that the woman caused when she entered a room. And she often did so unannounced. Eva hoped though that her discomfort in the presence of the other woman didn't show as she really went out of her way to be pleasant and forthcoming.

Above all Eva realized that she had a lot to learn about Julian.

She was soon made aware that "change" was the key word here. No show was like another, and this created both tension and elation in the set. And the fans were made to sweat, especially in a place where Julian performed more than once. Since no one would know what the theme would be for the two or three nights in question, it was imperative to get tickets for all of them. It put a demand on Eva too. Should she prepare for a hot and sexy night like the one in Fort Lauderdale or was it going to be one in a subdued, almost sad mood or yet again was it to be a romantic, sweet night? The show in New Orleans, for example, definitely fell into that category. He had chosen to dress in a shirt with lace and smart black pants and kept wooing his audience with long chats, acted out from the front of the stage, where he sat, legs dangling and talked intimately to the ones in the front row, who were snake-charmed by him to the point of oblivion. In the break after the main show and before the encore that night he entered the dressing room happily humming a nursery rhyme.

"Lapping it up, lapping it up," he crooned while she arranged his hair and put a spot of rouge on his cheeks.

She learned to bring along all her supplies. There was no relying on whether a chosen idea would be operable the next night. It was as if Julian delighted in teasing them all to stand in attention to his next whim. She could almost picture him there in his hotel room at night, planning mischievously for the next show.

Eva thought that she would grow tired of watching the concerts, but the opposite happened: the more she watched, the more interested, excited and exhilarated she got. She realized that he changed his presentation of a song to suit his present mood. Thus, "Slaughterhouse" could be incredibly sexy and as explicit as when she first viewed and heard it, but also viciously cold and evil on other nights. "Finding You" could sound a bit sad and sweet, but could also be done as a mournful ballad. "Rosary Mornings" was at times delicate and weird -- with Klaus going through the roof on his guitar and Rupert painting the background in cloudy silver -- and on other occasions it came forth as oddly sinister. Eva never stopped marveling over how Julian brought out different aspects of the song for each mood he chose to interpret it in. Seeing so much of him as she really did also gave her a perspective on the man himself, which she hadn't had before. She began to realize what a true artist he was and what a thoroughly genuine professional. He never missed out on what could be gained from a particular situation or an impromptu happening; he took it all in his stride. But his extraordinary instinct in this field also prompted him to demand the utmost of his collaborators. He wanted them to be not more than one step behind.

For Eva this meant that she had to sound him off each time she met him, not knowing "who" would be there to meet. And she lived in a perpetual emotional field of high voltage. There were nights when he was accessible and interested in what she was doing, asking endless questions both about her person and her work. He made her laugh and he put her off at the same time. Sometimes she got angry with him for using this kind of switch in his approach to her. She didn't want any kind of relationship to him other than professional. But he tried treacherously and constantly to find the crack in her armor and make her lose her balance. Eva wondered why he felt compelled to do so, but of course she didn't ask; that would have been admitting that she had an interest in him beyond her work.

Sometimes it also happened that he was in a terrible or difficult mood. And then Eva had to use all her skill, instinct and persuasion to save the situation. She had around an hour to make him ready for stage, literally; and at times that meant in mind too. She worked on him in silence, looking at his stern face and clenched mouth, and she took care to prolong the initial scalp massage on such nights and that often did the trick. As if the touch of her hands in this soothing way was the only remedy for whatever ate him up from the inside. And more than once she was rewarded in seeing how he relaxed and how his face cleared before her eyes. She could venture to start some small talk then, to ease up the situation further. Otherwise, she always let him decide whether they should talk or not.

But sometimes his mood seemed beyond repair, so to speak, and then the inevitable moment happened. One that couldn't have been anticipated.

One night -- they were playing ST Louis in Missouri, slowly working their way over the continent towards the West Coast -- when Eva was on her way to the dressing room area, she heard loud, angry voices from the stairs, and when she entered the corridor she saw them all out there, shouting at each other at the same time, Julian, the musicians and Maryka in the background, trying in vain to pour oil on the troubled waters.

"I don't want to do this shit tonight! I didn't put the list together like this . . . "

"So what do you want to play tonight then? You have to tell us! There's only an hour to go, I need to have some inkling . . . "

"Come on everyone, there must have been a slight mistake, we must be able to come to an understanding, please let us be sensible . . . "

Again, that last sentence was from Maryka, who was trying to calm everyone down.

Eva remained standing at the entrance in silence, waiting for the outcome, the minutes ticking by. Finally, they all moved upstairs to the big board, where tonight's set-list was posted, and Julian started in fury to erase songs and put up other choices instead. Steven made equally furious notes on a piece of paper. The air was charged with electricity to the point where one could almost smell it. After a while, Julian was finally done. He threw the pen down on a nearby table and went downstairs to his room. Eva followed him hesitantly. Well inside, he went up to the mirror, his back towards her. She put her things down and went for the towel.

"I don't want any head massage today," he said through clenched teeth. As if he couldn't bear to be touched.

"Okay," she answered, "fair enough. Could you please sit down in front of the mirror?"

He turned around and faced her, anger still visible in his face.

"What does it take to make you crack? You're like a porcelain doll or something?!"

"Why would you want me to crack up? What purpose on earth would that serve?" And for the first time there was a hint of passion in her voice too.

He smiled then for the first time during the troubled night as if he had gained a point, looking like a street urchin, who had managed to snatch a wallet from a passing target. He slumped into the chair, and she moved in front of him, up between his legs to come close to his face, but before she had time to apply the foundation she had on her fingers already, he caught her hand in midair in a tight and close grip. She reacted instinctively, trying to withdraw, but he flexed the muscles in his thighs, trapping her that way too. Eva felt her heart start to beat violently.

"Let me go!" she whispered, still calm.

"You're a dangerous one," he replied, savoring the words with relish, smiling now almost softly, with gleaming, steely eyes.

"I thought that danger spelt J-U-L-I-A-N," she retorted and felt him relax as he let go of her. "Now, will you please sit still until I'm finished, or you will be very late for your entrance."

He snickered smugly, closed his eyes and let her begin with her work without any further interruptions.

The show that followed was something out of this world. It was as if the charge of the conflict had transformed itself into energy, which everyone brought onto the stage. The audience seemed to feel it too. The response was massive. Half way into the second hour, Julian all of a sudden started to strip on stage. He tore off his T-shirt, threw it behind him and moved to the front of the stage under the glaring lights, exposing his bare chest to the crowd below which went absolutely wild. Eva had never seen anything like it. They surged forward in a movement in unison and a roar rose. Eva saw several people faint and carried out of the arena. Julian grabbed a guitar and started on "Pretending To Love You" and the crowd groaned in response. The next number, "Slaughterhouse," was an act of shared intercourse. He thrust his pelvis forward and touched his sex and the audience responded with a deep sigh.

When it was time for the break before the encore, Eva waited in the corridor outside the rooms and heard them on their way down, screaming, hollering, laughing, up somewhere so high that she didn't know what was needed to take them down again. The earlier quarrel was forgotten and had been transferred into wild elation. All of a sudden they were all around her and she became confused and caught in the wild sensation, swept away by their feelings. In the middle of it all, she felt Julian grab her hand, not hard or powerfully this time, but with a kind of possessiveness and urgency, which she couldn't resist. He put her hand against his sweat-drenched chest and held it there.

"It's swelteringly hot out there tonight -- feel it!"

He held her hand against his skin for a fraction of a second too long. She noticed it, but she didn't withdraw this time and saw that he took it in. She also saw from the corner of her eye that Maryka, who was also present, made a note of that moment of eternity. Then he let go of her and they all rushed into their dressing rooms. Eva followed Julian and they went hastily about their business. Not a word was uttered on the incidents of the evening. They worked quickly and efficiently and soon he was out on the stage again -- this time to soothe them all with one of his greatest ballads "Love is Bondage." Eva realized that she couldn't keep from being influenced too as tears filled her eyes when he sang, and she saw many in the audience weep openly. He ended the show with another extremely moving and powerful song, "Let It Come." And the audience didn't want to let go of him, they roared and stamped and shouted until he appeared for one last time and finished off with a magnificent "Standing Alone."

Then it was finally over. Eva didn't want to join in with any post-show celebration although everyone tugged at her and tempted her. She was so upset deep down inside that she needed space and time for herself. She wanted to get away from it all. Rushing through the corridors she came face to face with Maryka and met the gaze of the other woman for a short moment. She could see that Maryka looked at her with searching, weary eyes, looking for answers in Eva's face. But Eva hastened on, not wanting to engage in any sort of confrontation and soon she was back at her hotel and fell exhausted on the bed. A while later she was fit enough to go into the shower and let the water wash all the tensions away. Wanting to see if Granny had mailed today, she switched on her laptop and opened the mailbox. Granny hadn't, but another mail popped up, and she saw with great surprise that it was from Julian.