january | 29 | sunday |
we've been under a lot of added stress and pressure lately, so it's probably a good idea to get out of the house. an old friend of gaga's is opening a burlesque club down in the lower east side and we've all been invited to perform with the dancers and each sing one of our original songs! so pack on the glamorous, scantily glad outfits and get burlesque-ing!
@sophiaspastic this explains bristol's side plotline.
(just so everyone's aware the model for xavier is ryan ross. woo.)
(also if you know what the hectic glow is come be my best friend.)
bristol stefani mercury
scent - mugler angel
mood - on edge
hair - pics
nails - chanel - black velvet
lips - nude
music - muse / supermassive black hole
food - fingernails
where - the back dressing room
with - alone... but not at all
The name was like the world's sweetest poison. Xavier, Xavier, Xavier. Xavier Ardios, to be specific, totally gorgeous and swoonworthy lead singer of the New York indie scene's newest underground baby band. Teenage girls all over the world would squeal at the notion of even being in my position.
Too bad I'm married to the world's most prominent popstar, right?
My mind flashed back to the moment we'd met, a week ago in a grimy club in the Lower East Side. His band had just finished a set, him spotting me sitting next to Gaga at the bar in the middle of the last song. That boyish grin had spread across his thin face, his fingers wrapping even tighter around the microphone.
Somewhere in there, my mouth dropped open and my vodka tonic fell out.
"Bristol? You okay?" Gaga nudged me. "We can go home if you're getting a headache. This band isn't really my type, anyway." She glanced shiftily at Xavier, whose eyes were still affixed firmly to mine.
Yes or no, Bristol. Easy question.
Gaga's mistrusting expression said yes. Xavier's smile said no.
"Why don't you go home?" I felt my mouth forming the words before my brain realized it was thinking them. "I'm really into them, I want to.. uh.. chat with the bassist. When it's over, I mean. I'll catch a cab home. You could use a rest before the performance next week." I smiled weakly. Dear lord, Bristol, what have you become?
Gaga smiled a little. "I probably should. See you at home, baby." She planted a big kiss on the side of my head and exited the dive bar, walking right into a mob of paparazzi.
I surprised myself by being glad. The fans would keep her occupied, and I could have an innocent chat with the world's most gorgeo- uh, talented, king of indie music. Besides, the fans sucked. Fame sucked. Everything about being married to Gaga sucked, really, besides her. The sweet, beautiful girl I loved was the sole benefit to a marriage of sacrifices. Sacrificing my privacy, for the most part. Fans hounded me for pictures, paps hounded me for interviews, my parents hounded me for the truth on the vicious stories circulating about our marriage. I deserved a break, right?
Before I could worm my way backstage to meet the band, a pair of long, thin hands were holding out money for a pair of vodka tonics next to me. "So, come here often?" smirked the voice attached to the hands.
"Uh, you know. Only if good bands are playing." I looked up to see the brown eyes that had been gazing at me all night. I started my old fangirl habit of melting almost immediately. Xavier Ardios. Breathing my air.
No. Shut up, Bristol. Gaga. Xavier isn't even HOT, for God's sake.
But oh. He was. The tousled sex hair, the five o'clock shadow, and the barely noticeable streaks of eyeliner under his eyes kind of made me want to find a dark alley and make him wish he'd shut his stupid delicious lips.
"So I'm guessing The Hectic Glow is your idea of a good band?" Xavier smiled, resting his elbows on the bar behind him. "From Bristol Mercury, that's high praise."
I giggled. I wasn't expecting this hipster god to know who I was. "Yeah, you guys are awesome. I'm definitely gonna put your records into my setlist next time."
"Sweet!" He giggled. "So how... faithful is that marriage of yours?"
He was stepping into uncharted territory.
Had I cheated on Monster? Yes. Had I cheated on Gaga? No. Not in a billion years. I /love/ Gaga. But when there's a delicious piece of skinny indie boy sitting right in front of you, things as inconsequential as marriage vows tend to... slip your mind.
"Well.... that depends." I felt a sly smile slip onto my lips. "Are you flirting with me, Xavier Perri?"
"Maybe a little, Bristol Mercury." A hand on my leg. A rush up my spine.
This all felt too familiar.
Push him off, Bristol, I urged myself. He's being way too forward and Gaga is probably at home cooking you spaghetti and singing the song she wrote for you while she patiently awaits your arrival.
Better make it a quickie, then.
"Fuck you," I muttered, pulling his face towards mine. His lips tasted wrong. Like Parliament cigarettes and strawberry gum and the familiar tang of vodka. Gaga's tasted like Marlboros and coffee and sometimes whiskey. The new combination was addicting.
"Forward, are we?" groaned the boy I'd forgotten I was kissing.
"Shut up," I snarled. "I'm trying to forget about my real life."
Fast forward a week, and I'm sitting in my wife's dressing room while she sings a song she wrote about me.
I saw him in the audience. He's here. He came for me, or maybe for the show, but probably for me. When obviously she was going to be here.
My iPhone buzzes, startling me out of my reverie.
"Where are you? I'm at the show. I wanna talk. x Xavier."
I stare at the screen for a few seconds, trying not to reply. His contact picture, taken by him on that wild night, beams up at me. He looks so sweet, so gorgeous, so innocent...
"Backstage. I'll come out and get you in. + Bris"
My hands are shaking. Gaga is twenty feet away, and I'm about to see my... crush? Boyfriend? Screw buddy?
I emerge from the curtained backstage area to see Xavier smiling wide. "Hey, Bris!" He reaches out for a hug, and I'm too stunned to deny.
"What are you doing here?" I hiss. "Gaga's here."
"She can't see us if she's performing." Xavier waggles his eyebrows. "Aren't you going to invite me in?"
"Of course." I smile. Easy. This is easy.
I pull my... Xavier through the hallways to Gaga's dressing room, cringing at the framed picture of us on her vanity. While he's busy ogling the catering service, I flip the frame downwards and shove it into a drawer.
"So this is what it's like to actually get signed?" Xavier's face is annoyed, but his voice reveals his childish glee at seeing the backstage of a real concert. "Can't wait. You even get your own onion dip. You know you've made it when they give you onion dip."
I laugh. "I'm pretty sure we had onion dip at Bed, and that's the crappiest club in Manhattan."
"Luckily, I'm from the crappiest club in the crappiest part of Harlem."
"Bad*ss, are we now?"
"You would know."
And then he's on top of me on Gaga's fancy popstar lounge chair. I can feel his hipbones grazing mine, and his long thin fingers are tangled in my hair. "This is so, so wrong," I gasp.
"I agree." I can feel him laugh. "But you're gorgeous and I can't keep my hands off you."
Outside, I can hear the crowd cheering for my wife as she finishes her set with You & I. "FOR NEBRASKA, NEBRASKA, BRISTOL, I LOVE YOU," she practically screams, as though I'm not assured enough. And maybe I'm not, if I'm letting Xavier Ardios put his amazing hands up my shirt.
"She's coming, Xavier."
"What?" he mumbles against my lips.
"Get off me. MY WIFE JUST FINISHED HER SET." The word wife seems to stir something in Xavier, and he jumps off me as though I'm covered in dismembered cockroaches.
Gaga comes waltzing in, her post-performance high gleaming in her eyes. "Bristol, baby!" She falls into my arms and I kiss her, feeling Xavier's eyes on mine the whole time. Gaga suddenly stiffens, noticing his presence. And the state of his shirt, which is halfway up his torso.
"Xavier Ardios, right?" She doesn't offer a hand though, instead crossing her little arms over her chest.
"Yes! Wow, I can't believe I'm on Lady Gaga's radar!" Xavier grabs one of her unwilling hands and shakes it hard. "I'm such a big fan. SUCH a big fan!" He looks like a hyperactive puppy in the presence of my wife.
"Yeah. You too." She turns to me. "Bris, what is he doing here?" Behind her, the hyperactive puppy begins to look lost.
"He's... uh.... well... he told me he was here. So I figured I'd bring him back here to say a real hello!" I smile wide. No lies in this relationship.
"Alright." Gaga's expression softens a bit. "Nice to meet you, Xavier. I'll tell my people at Interscope to give The Hectic Glow a call."
"Thank you, Mrs. Germanotta!" He reaches forward and hugs her. She returns the gesture halfheartedly.
"No problem," she says flatly as he leaves. "And one more thing, Xavier?"
"Yeah?" He perks up.
"It's Germanotta-Mercury. Don't forget again, or maybe Interscope won't call after all."