#i remember leaning over to james when we first saw it during the intermission like

[aemiron-main]

Currently going insane over the fact that a.) Victor is labelled as “Corporal” in the ST playbook, despite introducing himself to Mr. Newby as “Sergeant”-

-and b.) the fact that Adams and Hicks from the Eldridge crew were both listed as “corporal” by the actors despite Adams’ actor previously having listed him as “sargent”:

Which is especially interesting considering this bit from the ST4 Papa script re: “Sergeant Hicks”:

(and of course, Sgt. Hicks is involved in raiding the NINA bunker, hellooo TFS NINA weirdness!!!! also staring at this vs TFS Brenner Jr yelling at Henry about “any hick with a buck knife,” plus “Hickman Hill,” in the Elvis Cloned by Aliens Weekly Watcher article, PLUS the article from the end of ST1 talking about State Attorney Thomas E. Hickman (hello “E” as in (Edward”…) )

And I’m also staring at all of that/all of the weird Hicks vs Hickman vs Hickman Hill and the Hickman Hill alien ship stuff vs a.) the way that both Victor and Hicks get their officer title changed vs how Victor’s uses alien movie-esque language in the foyer (talking about how “they’re here,” and he’s NOT referring to Henry and Patty, instead, the identity of the “they” that Victor is referring to is unclear, and gets wrapped into his WW2 flashbacks/he then talks about being able to smell the smoke from “their” bodies, so weirdly enough, the victims of Victor’s WW2 bombing misfire are getting paralleled to aliens)

(especially with the fact that in-show Victor’s casting auditions were done by having the actors read from the script for the movie “Signs,” which is an alien movie)

b.) the way that Brenner Jr talks about making a connecting/making the connection & how that also has very similar alien movie-esque vibes re: “making contact”/“making a connection” with aliens

And c.) the Eldridge being a ship vs the spaceship supposedly seen above Hickman Hill vs Hicks being a sailor on the Eldridge.

But anyway, what the hell is going on with the weird mismatched WW2 officer titles??? Especially considering what I talked about wayyyy back re: Victor in Normandy on D-Day versus D-Day’s huge communication & chain of command problems & how that resulted in soldiers doing the duties of ranks they werent supposed to be doing/basically accidentally rising in the ranks… Versus TFS Victor introducing himself as being a rank above his “actual” (according to the play book, at least) rank, as Sergeants are ranked above Corporals.

And all of this gets extra interesting with the fact that there’s a direct reference to Welcome to Marwen (the movie from the ST4 board where a guy pretends to be a WW2 captain to cope with trauma & creates a whole fake little town as part of it hellloo hawkins esp with ‘welcome to marwen’ vs ‘welcome to hawkins’) during the scene where Mr. Newby and Victor meet for the first time… hahaha what the hell is going on???

Especially re: the parallel between Victor’s “corporal vs sergeant” stuff vs the Eldridge crew’s “corporal vs sergeant” stuff versus the Eldridge crew & Captain Brenner also having references to Welcome to Marwen…

[ilovethings-somuch]

The Smallest Audience Member

Chris Evans x Reader

Anon Requested: I have this A-level fluffy idea that came to mind. Its a dad!Chris Evans x reader. So Chris stars in this Broadway show (Lobby Hero) so, when you guys attend your 3 yr old boy keeps calling him wanting his attention. (Idk if that's possible in general, but its fanfic, so, *shrugs*) You can end it however you like. Would you be comfortable writing it? Pretty please?

A/N: Obviously this request came in when Chris was actually doing Lobby Hero, unfortunately, I’m the worst and writer's block + school has been killing me so I didn’t finish until now. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it! 

(I do reference the mustache in the fic, but I wouldn’t want the picture to be an act of aggression) 

Chris being involved in a Broadway show was kind of a dream come true for him. He always talked about how he didn’t love acting in movies as much as he had when he started out, but performing live every day was just the thing he needed to reignite his love for acting. The only unfortunate thing about it was that James and I were stuck home in Boston while Chris had to live in New York for a couple of months. At 3 years old James had begun to understand that Daddy’s job meant he wasn’t home all the time, but that didn’t make the time apart any easier. For that reason, along with a few personal ones, I made it a point to take some time off from work near the end of his play run so that we could stay with Chris in New York and have a chance to see him perform before all heading back to Boston together.

As much as I wanted to surprise Chris by showing up in New York, I knew that it would be too difficult to figure out the logistics of travel and where to meet him without his help. So, after hinting at the idea for a while and finally telling him about how I got time off from work, we set to work on figuring out the best travel plans for me and James to visit for 2 weeks.

Arriving in New York with a 3-year-old was much more stressful than I imagined, and the fact that our flight was right in the middle of what should have been nap time only made matters worse. I got an Uber from the airport to Chris’ temporary home and he met us on the front step with a huge smile on his face. James’ mood seemed to change the moment he saw his dad, even though Chris had changed his look pretty dramatically with the mustache and hair, James didn’t seem to mind the change and all the attitude that was coming out before quickly melted away as Chris led us into the apartment. After some slight fussing Chris managed to convince James to take a nap, leaving me and Chris to have some time to ourselves to catch up. Once we were fully alone Chris and I shared our first kiss in over two months. It felt reassuring and normal, minus the change in facial hair which left me rubbing my upper lip.

“That’s gonna be something new to get used to,” I said.

“Sorry,” Chris replied sheepishly. “Only two more weeks, it’ll be the first thing to go.”

I gave him another kiss to prove that I would get through it. Even though we’d been talking on the phone or facetiming pretty consistently while he’d been gone, it’s always better when I’m with him and can reach out and touch him or kiss him whenever I want to.

Once James woke up from his nap, we had a couple hours to grab dinner before Chris had to be at the theater. Chris ordered in from the restaurant he’s been raving about ever since he got to New York and I get a sense of what he’s been up to around here without me and James around. Before the show actually started, he seemed to be at the theater almost constantly, but now that they’re actually performing they have a lot more free time. However, Chris informed me that performing live is way more exhausting than being on a movie set all day, so even though he does have free time, he spends a good portion of that just lounging around his apartment.

James and I weren’t going to Chris’s show that night since it runs too late for James to stay awake through it and be in a good mood, so once he headed to the theater I found a nice park in the area and headed over there to let James get some energy out. Upon seeing the dog park in the same area I regretted not driving down and bringing Dodger along on this visit, then again I couldn’t remember if Chris’ apartment was dog-friendly or not and I wouldn’t have wanted to get him in trouble.

On Saturdays, Chris had two shows a day instead of one. While this meant that we’d have less time to actually spend with him, it also meant that James and I would be able to go to his 2 o’clock show. Chris was nervous about us seeing him perform, but I knew he was going to do great and I couldn’t wait to see him on stage. James didn’t totally understand, but he was at least agreeable when I convinced him he needed a nap earlier in the day if he wanted to stay up to see Daddy’s show.

Chris had to be at the theater an hour before the show started. We ate a quick lunch together while James was napping before he left. It seemed like neither of us could get over the fact that we were together, and we couldn't keep our hands off of each other. Granted, it wasn't the same way as before we had James, or if James hadn't come with, but even the chaste touches were special after being apart.

After Chris left I set about making James' lunch and packing a small bag of snacks and quiet activities to keep him occupied in case he got bored during the show. Once James was awake and he had eaten it was time to head to the theater. Chris' apartment was close enough to the theater that I decided we could walk. James wanted to walk on his own but since he's not good at holding my hand and we were in a hurry I opted to carry him. The theater was easy to spot due to the large number of people accumulating outside. I got in line with other people who had pre-bought their tickets. I saw a few people with Captain America gear and knew they were here for Chris. It was always nice to see how his fan base supported him in every aspect of his career.

The line started moving relatively quickly and we were ushered inside. I was able to find our seats with little hassle in the small broadway theater. James started bouncing in his seat the moment I set him down and I had to quickly sit him down all the way which caused him to pout at me. I was able to keep him busy with his favorite book for the short period of time we had to spare before the show started. As soon as the lights dimmed I noticed James yawn largely, that one small action gave me the littlest bit of confidence that he would fall asleep during the show or at least relax enough to stay quiet. Unfortunately, that confidence went out the door as soon as Chris stepped on stage and gave his first line. James perked up immediately and when he located Chris’ spot on stage a huge smile grew on his face and he began to wave over his head. I quickly moved him onto my lap and whispered to him that he needed to be quiet and sit nicely if he wanted to stay for Daddy’s show. He didn’t seem to understand this request and gave me a pout, but nonetheless, he obeyed and moved back to his seat where he stayed mostly quiet through the rest of the show. At the intermission, Chris sent me a text saying he saw James waving at the beginning, along with a cry-laughing emoji. I passed on the information that Chris saw us in the hopes that it would get James to stop trying to get his attention. It mostly worked, but there were still a few moments in the second half when Chris got close to our side of the stage and James tried to call to him.

All in all, it wasn’t a bad outing for a 3-year-old and I was proud of how well he behaved. An usher found of after the performance and lead us back to Chris’ dressing room.

“Hey, what did you guys think?” Chris greeted us.

“You did amazing! I mean, I kind of hated your character, but that just made it all the more impressive.” James leans from my arms into Chris’ as we spoke and quickly piped up about him being on the stage.

“I was on the stage, was that cool?”

“You were a cop!” James said excitedly and Chris laughed.

“I was, I was pretending to be a cop for the show.”

“And you was talking funny,” James added with a slight scowl on his face.

“I was, wasn’t I? Hey, are you hungry?” Chris changed the subject and James gave an enthusiastic yes.  “Perfect, I know just the place for dinner.”

The rest of our trip to New York passed rather uneventfully, with sightseeing, testing out New York’s finest Pizza places, and stopping at some museums the time passed too quickly. Before I knew it Chris’ play run was coming to an end and it was time for all of us to head back to Boston. It was bittersweet for Chris. He loved his time acting on the stage again, but I knew he was excited about getting back home to the rest of his family, especially Dodger.

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[corrahdarling]

The Cure - Ch. 3 - Tea for Two

           TITLE OF STORY: The Cure CHAPTER NUMBER/TITLE/ONE SHOT: Chapter 3 of ? AUTHOR: loveCorrah WHICH TOM/CHARACTER: Actor!Tom and OFC Olivia GENRE:  Romance, Angst, Smut FIC SUMMARY: After Tom has to take his sick niece to the pediatrician, he strikes up a fancy for the beautiful Doctor. The more he finds out about Olivia, the more he wants to know. How will he react when secrets about her past come to light? RATING: Explicit WARNINGS/TRIGGERS/AUTHORS NOTES: This chapter involves a patient’s death, and also some mentions of blood, so if that is triggering, please proceed with caution!  FEEDBACK/COMMENTS:  If you have yet to watch our Tom in Coriolanus, please do so! It really is amazing! Check out the first half here.  Unfortunately, the link I have for the second half no longer works. :( Feedback is always wanted and valued! Love ya’ll! <3C

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         As the lights came up, Olivia squirmed in her seat with surprised excitement… it surprised her that she was excited about this… but she was, and she didn’t know if it was the atmosphere, the quiet hush of the crowd, the nervous tension in the room, or the man that invited her to sit in this very seat that was turning her stomach into a big ‘ol knot. 

           The play began with a man and woman having an angry go at each other on stage, and then Tom barged into the scene. Commanding and intimidating, Caius Martius stepped onto the floor. This was not the Tom she had been with just a few moments ago… softly laying in her lap as she stitched his forehead… this was someone else entirely. He had gotten so into the role, and came onto the floor snarling, and yelling so loudly that Olivia jumped slightly in her seat. She was perched so closely to the action that she could see the look in his eyes that he had just gained over the last few minutes, powerful… and a bit crazy.            Before she knew it, he was ascending a ladder, and after a moment came in from the wings covered in fake blood. 

           Of course, as a doctor, Olivia nearly jumped out of her seat to help him… but she remembered, it was a play, and that was part of it. It looked convincing enough though, and she spent her career trying to keep people from being covered in blood. She shuddered a bit looking at him like that. It was fake, Olivia, calm down. He closed his eyes, and clenched his fist while the blood was dripping off of him onto the floor and softly, convincingly uttered  “O, me alone! Make you a sword of me?” Olivia sighed. This man had much more talent than she gave him credit for.             She hoped to goodness that his stitches would hold up during the fight scene with Aufidius… and she cringed every time Tom was hit or flipped onto his back… and then, the water. She had no idea that he was going to be under running water on stage.

          Olivia found herself grow a bit jealous when she watched the woman that played his wife wrap herself in his arms and kiss him. Why? Livi didn’t feel that way toward him… she didn't even know him— but, it had been so long since she had truly been with anyone, that she grew jealous of most couples… even make-believe ones. She was never in one place long enough to have a very meaningful relationship, and she wondered if that was just her lot in life… helping every one else, to the detriment of herself?           She was startled back to reality, when Tom walked across the stage in a cream-colored sheer cotton gown. Was he… naked under that thing? She squinted her eyes, trying to figure it out, and giggled to herself. This had suddenly become much more interesting that she had intended.

          She noticed many other eyes doing to same thing, and suddenly she diverted hers to her pink fingernails. He was really and truly putting his heart and soul, sweat and tears into the performance, and he deserved better. 
 She felt her phone vibrate in her bag, but she knew it was almost intermission, so she decided to finish out the scene before checking her messages, as she didn’t want to be disrespectful. When the sad scene finished, and the lights came back up, she reached into her bag and pulled her phone from it, before putting to her ear to listen to her voicemail. 

          “Dr. Beckett, this is Dr. Morgan. We are overrun in A&E, so I need you to come in, if at all possible. It must be a full moon, because the clinic is full of freak accidents! I’ll expect to see you here within the hour…”           “Shit.” She whispered as she rolled her eyes, and thought for a moment… she could always pretend that she didn’t get the message. She would feel too guilty about that, though. She didn’t want to just leave without telling Tom goodbye, but she knew he was busy. She reached into her bag and pulled her stationary pad from it. She jotted a quick note, and saw the large man that led her to Tom in the first place and approached him.

         “Dr. Beckett.” The man greeted her.          “Hi… umm… I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.”          “James.”          “Hi, James. Could you do me a favor? I have to leave suddenly.” She handed the note to him. “Do you mind giving that to Tom, please? I don’t want him to think I just left.”           “I don’t mind. I’ll do it now. Have a nice night, Dr.”           “Thanks.” Man, that guy is big. He must be security of some sort. She didn't know if he was Tom’s security, or the Donmar’s…

__________________________          The night wore on, both in the Donmar theatre, and the surgical theatre. There had been terrible accident after accident that night, upon everything else, and Olivia could barely keep up. She spent hours assessing patients, and treating their wounds, whether they needed stitches themselves, or had broken bones, or even admission into the hospital. One final accident happened after midnight, that brought 4 people into A&E. Besides she and Dr. Gordon, who was a middle aged man, another young doctor was brought in… a surgeon— Dr. Miles Brock. 

          He was an attractive, tall man, with large hands, but they worked miracles under pressure. He certainly didn’t look like a surgeon, but he had a lot of talent. He also had long hair, that he kept up in a tight bun beneath his surgical cap, as per hospital rules. Livi had assisted him in surgery many times before when she filled in in A&E, and they worked well as a team, even under the worst circumstances— her tiny hands could sometimes get into spaces that his couldn’t.          This accident, however, was the worst she had seen since she had arrived in London. Fortunately, there was only one automobile involved in the accident, but each person was critical. Two people were sent to their hospital, and the other two were sent to a hospital a few miles away, and Miles and Olivia got the worst ones. She started getting the woman stabilized, as she heard Miles calling her loudly from the surgical suite. The nurses took over the care of the woman, as Livi ran down the hall. She didn’t even have time to get into her surgical gear, before Miles began giving her orders.          “We’ve got to hurry, we’re gonna lose him. Start on CPR, I’ve got to figure out what’s going on.” The man yelled toward her.          She nodded and jumped up onto the table to position herself to straddle the man and began CPR. After 30 chest compressions, she leaned forward, pinched the man’s nose and breathed into his mouth twice, watching his chest rise and fall with each one.           “Come on… come on…” She chanted as she began compressions again. The man wasn’t responding, even after several rounds of this cycle, and she tried to block out the drone of the flatline buzz on the man’s monitor. All she could think about was the fact that the man was married to the woman in the other room… if Livi didn’t succeed in bringing the man back, the other patient would be a widow… all too early.          “Olivia, his heart’s stopped. He’s gone!”          “No! Try the defibrillator!”          “He’s gone, Livi.”          “Try it. At least try. Please!” She begged.          “Fine. Watch out.” Miles sighed as Olivia jumped from the table and backed away, hoping to goodness that the defibrillator would work. He put a paddle in each hand. “Charging…” He pressed the paddles to the man’s chest. “Clear.”          The defibrillator delivered the electric shock to the man, making his body convulse from the current.          The Doctor shook his head. “Charging… clear.” He attempted it again… nothing.          She watched the monitor hopefully, wanting to see that pulse begin again. “Come on... Just give him a second, Miles.”          “It’s no use. He’s gone, Livi.”          “If you’re not going to try, then I will. Move!” She yelled as she positioned herself on top of the man again, restarting CPR.         Miles watched her for a moment before pulling her from the man. “Let it go. He’s gone. We tried. We did all we could do. He was nearly dead when he got here.”         Her mouth hung open as she looked between the doctor, and the man on the table. “You’re just giving up?”        Miles nodded. “I know when it’s too late.”        From the door, Dr. Gordon spoke, as he had heard the exchange between Livi and Miles. “Dr. Beckett, everyone else has been stabilized. Why don’t you go on home— I know you’re tired. Thank you for trying.”       She nodded slightly, as she walked from the room, and pulled her bags from her locker. She hadn’t even gotten the chance to change into scrubs that night, so her pants were stained with blood and her sweater was covered in no-telling-what. She passed through the automatic A&E door, but she heard someone call her name as she passed the threshold.         “Livi, wait.”         She turned to see Miles running toward her, pulling his surgical cap from his head, exposing his long, dark blond hair. “Hey… don’t go home upset. We tried. You know this happens sometimes. It’s not the first, and it won’t be the last. You’re a wonderful doctor. You know this isn’t your fault.”         She nodded as she played with the rocks on the concrete of the parking lot with her boots. She knew if she thought much more about it, or looked at Miles, her resolve to stay strong would fail. “I know. I’m tired… I’m gonna go.”          “Livi…. is that Tom Hiddleston sitting on your car?”          Her head swirled around quickly to find her little red car… and Mr. Celebrity sitting on it. He sheepishly waved at her when he saw her watching him.          “Bye, Miles.” She absentmindedly dismissed her doctor friend, and traipsed over to Tom, whose eyes grew wide when he saw her haggard look.           “I didn’t know you worked with Thor…” He said playfully., trying to lighten the mood.           All she could do was roll her eyes. This wasn’t a good time.           “What’s happened to you?” Tom asked, as he eyed her bloody jeans.           She cleared her throat as she walked to the passenger side of her car and threw her bags into the seat. Her Doctor’s bag still housed Tom’s bloody gauze. “What are you doing here, Tom? It’s 3 A.M.”            “I know what time it is, darling. I just got done at the warehouse about an hour ago… and thought I’d come make sure you were okay.” He held up the note she had left him. “Since you left the show early.”            “Yeah, I know… I’m sorry. I got called into work. It’s been a night from hell. I just lost a patient… there was nothing I could do for him. I did CPR, and we tried the defibrillator… but…”            “Oh, love… I’m so sorry.” He jumped from the car and pulled her into a tight embrace.           She tried to resist, but she let herself relax a bit and bury her tired face in his cardigan-covered-chest. It smelled like he had just had a shower, and it felt so good to just be hugged… it had been far too long since someone had really wrapped their arms around her like that. She barely knew this man, but she was deriving comfort by being near him.        “Thanks.” She replied quietly, but when he pulled back to look in her eyes, he could see they were filled with tears. “I’m gonna go home, Tom… I’m tired. Thank you for checking on me though.”        “You can’t go home like this, can you?”        “I always do.”        “But… what if I don’t want you to be alone? I can see you’re upset.”        “I’ll be fine… really. We’re only 3 miles from my apartment.”        “Well… at least let me follow you there and see you in… you know, for your safety.” He said, effectually showing Livi the sweetest puppy dog face ever.         “I don’t really even know you… how do I know that you’ll keep me safe?”         He chuckled. “I assure you, I’ll be on my best behaviour.”         She nodded slightly, as he grinned and headed toward a dark grey, expensive looking SUV. “I’ll follow you, then.” He yelled toward her as he slid into his vehicle. Hmph, she figured he was more of a sports-car type of guy. Within five minutes, she had pulled up at the curb of her building, with him pulling in tightly behind her. She supposed Tom was nice enough, after all, he cared enough to see her into her building after her long night, especially since she didn’t exactly live in the nicest neighborhood.        “Here we are…” He grinned as he walked up to the passenger side of the car. “I’ll carry your bags.”        “It’s okay, I can get them…”        “Why are you so stubborn, Olivia?” He asked as he leaned into the car.        “I’m not stubborn. I’m independent.”        “Well… I respect that, but you���ll put all independence aside for a moment. I told you that I was going to see you in, and I am. Now, I am going to carry your bags, because you’ve had a hard night, and you aren’t going to argue, hear?”         If she had any energy left, she’d laugh… even though it felt good to be taken care of for a change.         The pair made it up the lift, and Livi turned to Tom expectantly. He raised his eyebrows in response to her stare.         “Well, I’ll need to get my keys so that I can get into my flat, and they’re in the bag that you’ve got clutched so tightly under your chivalrous arm, there.”         “Ah… oh, yes, sorry.” He grinned as he maneuvered her purse from his shoulder.          She was impressed. After all, it takes a real man to carry a pink suede bag that confidently… especially one that had a little pink-haired, Japanese, Kokeshi Doll charm hanging from one of the handles. She bit her lip, and dug through her bag for a moment before pulling her keys from it— normally it took her longer than that to find her keys. Tom smiled when he saw her keychain which not only featured a Union Jack, but a bright red double-decker bus that read ‘London’ across it.          After a couple of jiggles, she finally pushed the door open and led him through a small hall, passing the door to the kitchen and into her rather bare living room. “Well, this is it… not much to it. I move too often to decorate very much.” She smiled back at him as she deposited her bag on the fluffy, light grey couch.         “Well, it’s nice. Rather big, for a flat in London.”         She shrugged. “I mainly just sleep here, so it does the job.”         He nodded as he looked back down to her ruined jeans. “I have an idea. Why don’t you go take a shower? It would probably help your feelings.”         “… and you’re going to stay?”         “Yes, if you don’t mind. I’d like you to take a look and make sure my stitches still look good after the performance tonight.”          “Oh… well, okay. I’ll be out in a few minutes. Make yourself at home.” She said as she grabbed a few things from what he guessed was her bedroom, and disappeared into her bathroom.          Of course, he didn’t really need for her to look at his stitches, he was just trying to come up with an excuse to stay for a little while. He wanted to make sure that Olivia was okay, since he knew she was upset. He didn’t really know how she felt, but he imagined that losing a patient was probably the absolute worst part of her job— plus, even though he didn’t know her that well, he enjoyed her company.            He looked around her living room a bit while she was occupied in the shower. She seemed to be very feminine, and her decor mirrored that. The couch was lined with pillows alternating between a grey and white chevron print, and a light, baby pink, and in front of the couch sat a nice, white coffee table with a fern and a small stack of books on it. Above the couch, hung a large canvas of Audrey Hepburn in her iconic role as Holly Golightly in Breakfast At Tiffany’s, and on the opposite wall was a large bookshelf full of a mixture of hard-backed fiction, photography books, biographies, and medical manuals.           He wandered into the kitchen, and looked in the refrigerator, not finding much… he barely found a package of loose Darjeeling tea, and filled her electric kettle with water, flipping the switch to begin to heat the water. In her cabinet, he found a lovely tea set that looked different than any he had seen before. It was a matte black, but had lovely porcelain on the lid of the pot and the insides of the cups, and on that porcelain were what looked like purple watercolor flowers, with bright green stems. As soon as the kettle alerted him of the hot water, he added it to the teapot, along with the silver strainer, and some of the tea, and put the lid on to let it steep. He added some biscuits to a plate, and placed them along with the teapot on the living room coffee table.           He took a seat on the couch, and picked up one of the books that rested on her coffee table… The Book of Everything: A Visual Guide to Travel and the World. He was just learning about how to avoid being sucked into quicksand when he heard her enter the room. His stunning blue eyes quickly found her brown ones, but not before surveying her short, black, jogger shorts and long-sleeved pink and turquoise tie-dyed t-shirt. Her dark hair was wet from the shower, and her face was clean of the makeup she had been wearing.           She had been watching him for longer than he knew, as she couldn’t bear to disturb him. He had obviously been busy making tea and putting her favorite snack on a plate. That was literally the sweetest gesture anyone had ever done for her, and she didn’t quite know how to react. She watched his face as he read, his eyebrows furrowing when he came to a particularly interesting spot, trying to retain the knowledge he was picking up from the travel book. One of his large hands held the hardback, and the other gently ran through his haphazardly styled hair.            “Hi.” She said quietly as she entered the room.            “Hello, there. I’ve already learned how to get myself out of quicksand, but I’m afraid you just interrupted my learning about how to defend myself from an alligator.”             “Oh no…” She giggled as she plopped down on the couch beside him. “This is very sweet.” She pointed to the tea and biscuits.             “Oh, think nothing of it, love… I was going to cook some food for you, but I couldn’t find anything in your kitchen besides stale bread and Salt and Vinegar crisps.”              She grimaced. “Yeah, I know… sorry… it’s rare that I eat at home. Don't worry, Hobnobs are my favorite, anyway.” She smiled as she pointed to the biscuits on the plate.

             “Good.” He laughed as he scooted forward to pour her a cup of tea, before holding it out to her. “Here you are, darling. You know, it’s not often that I have black tea at 4 a.m.”              “Isn’t any time a good time for tea here?” She smiled as she took the teacup from his agile fingers.              “Well, I suppose so.”              “Mmm… that’s so good.” She closed her eyes as the hot tea coated her throat and warmed her insides. After a glorious moment, she came back to reality. “I don’t think I’ll ever learn to brew a good pot of tea.” She pulled her legs underneath her body to sit on them. “How’s your head? I’m sorry, with everything that’s happened, I haven’t thought to ask.”              “It’s fine. Stings a little, but it’s nothing I can’t handle. I think I’ll survive.” He thought he was being witty until he saw the look on her face. He hadn’t thought about what he was saying before it slipped from between his lips. “Oh… oh, no… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”               “It’s okay…” She said as she placed her teacup on the table and took off to her kitchen. She wasn’t gone for long before she reappeared with a half empty (or half-full?) bottle of cold scotch whisky, and two clear glass tumblers. She noticed the wide-eyed, shocked expression on his face. “I’m sorry, Tom. I need something a little stronger for now… I brought you a glass.”               He nodded slowly. “Oh-kay… I didn’t see that when I looking into your refrigerator.”              “Hmph. Must’ve been hiding behind the stale bread.” She quipped as she handed him a glass.              “You don’t want to eat before you drink that?” He asked, wondering if this was a good idea.              “Nope… I don’t. Cheers…” She held up her glass and looked at him expectantly.              He laughed and shook his head. Whether it was a good idea or not, it was happening. “Cheers, darling.”

[artisthousemusic-blog]

My Favorite Day

By Marc Broussard

I’ve had a lot of “favorite” days. They kind of happen by default when you travel the world. I could tell you about the day I signed with Atlantic? Or, when I found myself seated facing backwards in a small plane that was bolting off the deck of the USS Enterprise in the middle of the Persian Gulf.

Those were awesome days, sure, but I want to tell you about when I performed at the Rock and Roll Hall Of Fame induction. 

Disclaimer: Because of my profession, my days start at night. While this story takes place over the course of two consecutive evenings, we’re still within that 24-hour window, technically speaking. 

It starts on March 12, 2006 at 9 p.m.

I’m at a rehearsal space in Manhattan. I had just bought a vintage Epiphone Sheraton the day before in Burbank, CA, and I couldn’t wait to plug it in. I was there to rehearse for a tribute to Wilson Pickett for the Rock and Roll Hall Of Fame Induction Ceremony. I’d be accompanied by two other singers: Leela James and the legendary Solomon Burke. We were to sing a medley with me taking the lead on a classic, “Mustang Sally.” Our backing band was Paul Shaffer and The CBS Orchestra.

Needless to say, I was stoked! 

Our rehearsal never materialized that evening because of technical problems. The facility had provided one sound engineer. He was running back and forth between monitors and front-of-house, trying desperately to please the band on stage and the board of directors. Shaffer, having had enough of it all, grabbed a wireless mic to let everyone know that rehearsal was over, made some choice remarks about the facility, and then proceeded (with all his might) to slam the wireless microphone to the ground. Not satisfied with the level of destruction on his first attempt, he picked it up and again threw it to the ground—this time, with pieces flying in every direction.

Felicia Collins came over to me and said, “I’ve known him for 25 years and I’ve never seen him do anything like that." 

My night was over but I didn’t care because I knew I’d get to tell this story some day. And it was just the beginning! 

I woke up the next morning early with my mind set on getting some new threads. I went to H&M (a store I’d never heard of) and picked out a new fancy shirt and jacket. Jumped into a Kenneth Cole and scooped up a pair of shoes and I was ready. Well, almost ready. My label had arranged for me to get a haircut and beard trim in my hotel room.

At this point, I was feeling like a bonafide rock star. New York. New clothes. Fresh hair.

And I was set to perform in a room full of rock legends! 

This opportunity, mind you, had its roots back at home. You see, having booked Leela and Solomon for the tribute to Wilson Pickett, it was told to me that Jann Wenner queried the rest of the show producers as to the possibility of "a soulful, white man” to round out the trio. My name was put forth as the primo option by Rick Krim, who ran VH1. He only knew who I was because one of his dear friends did me the honor of introducing us years earlier at her home in Los Angeles. She was a Lafayette girl by the name of Leah Simon, a woman holding a debt I’ll never be able to repay, and not nearly for just this one occasion. 

We arrived at the Waldorf ballroom before most everyone else. I had no idea just how epic the scene would become by the time I hit the stage. Though we hadn’t rehearsed fully the night before, Leela and Solomon had worked on their parts and “Mustang Sally” was an easy enough tune. I was told by the production staff to get off stage quickly, as there would be a crew coming to help Solomon off once we were done. When it was my time to go, Paul Shaffer called my name and I took my place on stage. 

Now, “Mustang Sally” is a perfect song for a ham like me—tons of space for a “ha” or “good god” in between lyrics. The lights were in my eyes and the room was dark, so I couldn’t really see the audience. What I’ve learned about these kinds of performances, though, is that they tend to be fairly energizing but are always over too quickly. There’s nowhere for all of that energy to go afterwards, and I often need to take a breather once it’s all said and done. 

As soon as the song ends, I threw up a peace sign, unplugged my guitar and headed for the stage exit, but the crew to help Solomon was already streaming in and I was forced back out onto a wing of the stage. There I stood, holding my guitar, looking at a now fully lit ballroom filled to the absolute brim with rock and roll royalty. 

Hey, there’s Ozzy and Sharon. Oh, that’s Bonnie Raitt. Kid Rock and Ahmet Erdogen are over there. Holy shit, that’s Brian May sitting with Metallica!

These weren’t A-listers because none of these people needed to be on the list. These were, and still are, the biggest rock stars on the planet and none of them are paying attention to me. I took my breather right there in front of everybody, scanning the room for faces I recognized. The best descriptor for how I felt at that moment was, “fly on the wall.”

However, that all came to screeching halt as my eyes came back to the center of the room. There sat one man, surrounded by friends and contemporaries, all chatting away … save for him. He’s been waiting for me to see him. As soon as our eyes lock, he throws me a huge thumbs up.

Once I realized this man was Sting, I lost control of myself for a second. My hands jerked to my head like I’d just seen my life savings disappear and then thrust forward, fingers spread as if to say, “IS THIS REALLY HAPPENING?!?!" 

I finally made my way off stage, packed away my guitar and headed to my seat at the VH1 table, three feet from the stage-right speaker stack. I was immediately pulled to the big table front and center to say hello to my old label executives, who were no longer at my label having moved from Island/Def Jam to Atlantic. I remember feeling kind of awkward at the way Lyor Cohen leaned all the way over the table to plant a big, wet kiss on my cheek. It was like something out of a mob movie.

Was he signaling to someone else in the room? I didn’t know. 

What I did know was that I needed to pee, so I excused myself to the restroom. Metallica happened to be making their way to the stage just as I was about to enter the men’s room and we crossed paths, briefly. "Hey man,” Kirk Hammett hollered out to me. “You’re a badass!”

The stalls and urinals were all occupied, so I took my place on the wall opposite one of the guys at the urinals, waiting for him to finish his business. This is the kind of thing guys do all the time. When the guy finishes, he turns around, and without making any sort of contact, verbal or otherwise, you man up to a hot, steamy urinal still fresh with another man’s fluids.

It’s disgusting … hence the unwritten (but very real) no contact rule, especially with the eyes. Nobody ever had to tell me that was the rule, mind you. But this time was different because the guy that turned around that I wasn’t supposed to look at was Ozzy freakin’ Osborne! I think I even said, “What’s up, man?” which, again, is a big no-no. He mumbled some gibberish as he walked past and I stepped up to handle my business, morbidly enjoying the whole experience. 

Metallica performed a Skynyrd medley before the lights came up again in the ballroom. Kid Rock comes over to me and says, “Hey man, Ahmet wants to meet you." 

(Ahmet Erdogen was the legendary founder of Atlantic Records and one of the most influential figures in music during the 20th century.) 

"Young man, you were amazing,” Ahmet commented. “Tell me: Where will you be at the end of June?“ 

I told him I’d be wherever he needed me to be. 

He went on. "Have you heard of Montreux? Well, this year, the first night is dedicated to me and I’d like you to perform." 

I glanced back with a quizzling look at my manager who heard the exchange and she just nodded. So, I nodded in turn and the encounter was done. Not 30 seconds went by when Brian May (lead guitarist from Queen) comes over to me and says, "You’re a great singer, man. So I hear you’re going to be at Montreux.”

News apparently travels quickly in those circles. 

From that point on, I only had one thing on my mind: meet Sting. Every time the lights came up between sets, I tried to make my way to his table. Everyone would get up from their seats and start mingling, clogging up the space between tables. I’d get half the way there and then the lights would fade again. It was frustrating, but I was determined. Luckily, my seat would serve me well. Because I was seated so close to the stage, you had to walk right next to me if you wanted to go to the bathroom. During one of the intermissions, I saw my opportunity as Sting made his way to the loo. 

I just popped up out of my chair at the very moment he got to my table. It stopped him in his tracks and he grabbed me by the shoulders, leaned back to get a good look, pulled me in for a bro hug, pushed me back at the shoulders again and said, “Man, you’re a badass!”

I was in shock. The only response I could muster was, “You’re Sting.” We exchanged a few more kind words and then I let him on by. 

The evening was filled with moments like this one. I had performed well enough that every single one of these celebrities that walked by me said something kind. I was on the proverbial cloud 9 and starting to enter the stratosphere! What happened next was a moonshot. 

To close out the entire show, they had hired a man who lived three miles from my house: Buchwheat Zydeco. It was, I thought, a serendipitous end to the whole affair. Just as the band kicked it into gear, Debbie Harry sashayed up the stairs directly in front of me and up onto the stage. Rick Krim and my manager both immediately started to urge me to go dance with her. I flatly refused with a quiet “No!” through a grimaced smile. They insisted. “You’ll be on TV dancing with Blondie, fool! Get on that stage!” I relented.

Climbing the steps, I wondered as to exactly how I was supposed to ask Debbie Harry to dance with me. It turned out to be pretty easy. I just tapped her on the shoulder and presented her with body language that said something like, “Eh? How about it? Wanna give this a try?” She happily accepted the offer. 

So, to recap, in one evening, I sang with Solomon Burke, got kissed by Run-DMC’s old tour manager, mafia-style, high-fived Metallica, peed on the remnants of Ozzy Osborne’s pee, got invited to perform at one of the most prestigious music festivals in the world, made small talk with Kid Rock and Brian May, got a hug from Sting and two-stepped with Debbie Harry while Buckwheat Zydeco played us out.

I could’ve died right there.

I think I did die right there because I don’t remember anything after that until many days later.