Sunday, 20 December 2015

Kai

Writers' Group exercise. 10 minutes: Fact or fiction. Describe your first encounter with a celebrity.

He's all leather and tattoos. Red and green snakes entwine each arm. He's got a bottle of something - beer? - in one hand and a cigarette in the other. One booted foot taps to the faint rhythm of the warm-up band.  He wears a red bandanna around his head, a skull ring on one finger and a bar through his eyebrow. 

And he's smiling at me.

I glance around, convinced it's somebody else he's looking at. But for once I'm alone. Climbing that wall was hard, but it was worth it, given me access to a backstage yard of some kind. There are rubbish dumpers to one side and a couple of tatty camping chairs next to an upturned crate. My ankle hurts and I want to sit down.

But he's still smiling at me, still counting the beat of the drums inside. What's he doing out here anyway? They'll be on soon  - shouldn't he be rehearsing or something? 

Kai, his name is. I've loved him since I was nine, when I first saw a poster on the wall of the old theatre in town. I sold my laptop to pay for the coach fare and this ticket, lied to my mates and missed an afternoon of school to get here on time. And he's waiting for me, just like he promised.

My mum's going to kill me.