5: Britney
"Hi, honey! Are you okay?" Britney drew a hand to
Anthony's cheek. He took a step back.
Anthony's eyes bulged in their
sockets. Gesturing toward the door, he asked, "Wha... what are you doing
here?"
Britney raised her eyebrows, her jaw slack. "Don't you remember?
We were supposed to meet for breakfast! I know I'm running a little late, but my
flight was delayed. I just ran into the guys," she pointed a thumb over her
shoulder. "They said they were late to that radio interview, and that you're not
feeling very well." She sunk her hands into the pockets of her jeans. "Why,
honey? What's going on?"
Grimacing, Anthony wagged his head. "That's what
I'd like to know."
She brushed an errant strand out of her eyes and
returned the hand to her pocket. Gazing deep into Anthony's eyes, she asked, "Is
there anything you want to talk about then?"
Rubbing the bridge of his
nose, Anthony sighed. "I am just very confused right now. Like, like why were we
going to have breakfast together?"
"Well I, I..." Britney stuttered, her
eyes filling with tears, "I missed you, Anthony! We were going to meet just
before the Grammies, but last night you called and said to come early..." Her
voice trailed off.
"You mean," Anthony raised an eyebrow, "we're
dating?"
Black tears spilled down Britney's face, and she hung her
head.
"Hey," Anthony breathed. Glancing about the room, he found a
Kleenex box on a side table. He grabbed a few and handed them to Britney. "Hey,
don't cry! I'm sorry!"
Britney accepted the tissues, and wiped away the
gritty streaks. "It's just, just that I," she blubbered, "I saw a tabloid
article about you and Christina Aguilera, and I..."
Anthony burst into
laughter. "Don't believe everything you read," he chuckled, "ESPECIALLY not a
tabloid."
She flung her arms around him, holding him close. "I love you,
Ant!" her voice tickled his right ear. Tilting her head back, she locked eyes
with his. Her lips parted, and she drew her face toward his.
"Hey!"
Anthony hopped back a step, and she raised an eyebrow at him. "Why don't we go
get some breakfast? Have you eaten today?"
"No."
"Then let's
go."
*****
Hidden beneath a floppy lime terry cloth hat and thick
framed red eyeglasses, Anthony raised a mug of green tea to his lips. He blew on
it before taking a sip. His eyes gazed over the cup at the figure sitting across
from him. A rope braid trickled over the girl's left shoulder, from beneath a
sheer peach kerchief. Lines creased her forehead as she stared out the window
through wire framed sunglasses.
Anthony lowered his mug to the table. It
clacked against the plastic surface. Britney jolted upright and looked to her
companion.
A burly man approached them and set down two bowls of fruit.
Anthony grinned and peered up at him. "Thank you, my good man!"
A smile
swept across staunch features. "You're very welcome, Mr. Kiedis! Say, would it
be too much to ask you for an autograph? It's for my, um... my daughter! Yeah!
She's a huge fan of the Chili Peppers!"
Shrugging, Anthony replied, "No
trouble at all."
"I'll go get the picture then!" the man was beaming. He
skipped across the tiny café, behind the cash register, and disappeared into a
side room.
Anthony reached for an orange slice. As he raised it to his
mouth, his eyes rested on Britney. She was biting her lower lip.
"I was
afraid you'd get recognised," she whispered.
Anthony chewed at the orange
slice. "It's just one guy!"
Britney shook her head. "It ALWAYS starts out
with 'just one guy'. You should have worn a better disguise, like that one you
have with the fake nose."
"What's this I have?" Anthony questioned,
scrunching his brows.
"You know, the one you usually wear." Britney held
an open palm toward him.
Anthony snorted. "And you're willing to be seen
in public with me?"
A smile stretched across her face. Creases
disappeared. "It is a funny looking nose..."
"My real one, or the
disguise?"
"Ant!" Britney laid a hand over his, her fingernails playing
across his knuckles. Gazing into his eyes, she added, "Of COURSE the disguise!
You don't need me telling you this, not with people al over the world saying it,
but you are a beautiful person." She raised a hand to her lips. "Oh! Have you
seen the current issue of <i>People</i> magazine?"
Anthony
shook his head. Ducking under the table, Britney leaned over her denim knees and
dug around in a Hawaiian print handbag. She retrieved a magazine and flopped it
onto the tabletop. Anthony's eyes bugged out. From under the red outlined white
"PEOPLE" logo grinned a picture of himself, beside the pale gold print "The
Sexiest Man Alive 2001: Anthony Kiedis".
"Must have been a shortage on
sexy men this year," Anthony mumbled, reaching for the magazine as Britney
sipped her water. He flipped through the pages. "Is this real?"
Britney's
glass clunked against the table. "Of course it's real!"
Pushing his
glasses to the top of his nose, Anthony scanned the pages he turned. Halfway
through the magazine, he stopped upon a black and white picture. Light icicle
strands lay across his photo self's forehead, the tips brushing across his
brows. Dark eyes steady at the camera, solemn expression. Skinny white text to
the left read "The Sexiest Man Alive 2001", each word on its own line. Under it,
in bold crimson letters, was his name. Anthony read the caption beneath it:
"From joke act to pop star, this man proves that it's never too late to change".
"It wasn't right of them to call your early work a 'joke act'," Britney
commented, nibbling on an apple slice. A smile spread across her lips. "It WAS
racy, wasn't it!"
Anthony closed the magazine and slid it across the
table to her. "Yeah," he grinned. Looking her in the eye, he asked, "Were you a
fan of the early stuff?"
"Well, not at the time." Britney swallowed some
water. "I wasn't even ten yet when your band broke up. But, when I was on the
Mickey Mouse Club a couple of years later, a lot of the older Mouseketeers would
listen to your albums on the set, especially <u>Freaky Styley</u>.
Though my favourite is <u>The Uplift Mofo Party Plan</u>; that one's
a real rump shaker."
"'Rump shaker'," Anthony smirked. "I like
that!"
The waiter slid a magazine clipping in front of Anthony, one
featuring a shot of the Chili Peppers. He handed Anthony a pen. "Can you make it
out to Al please?"
Anthony took up the pen and laid his left hand over
the picture's top corner. "Your daughter's name is Al?" His eyes darted upward
at the man, who shrugged and raised his eyebrows.
"Short for
Allison?"
Cracking a smile, Anthony scrawled across the photo. The
waiter's face relaxed as he accepted the autographed picture from the
singer.
"Thanks, Mr. Kiedis!" the man's bulky fingers hugged the photo to
his chest. He beamed. "I, ah... um, my DAUGHTER'll love this!"
"Um...
honey?" Britney's voice raised an octave. Anthony turned to her, and his eyes
followed her attenuated finger out the window. Dozens of faces pressed against
the glass, twice as many eyes staring at Anthony, excited smiles
abounding.
"I was afraid of this," Britney whispered. She turned to the
waiter. "Do you have a back door?"
The waiter opened his
mouth.
"No, it's okay," Anthony replied. Shrugging, he looked to Britney.
"We can greet a few fans."
She raised an eyebrow. "Ant, are you
sure?"
"Yeah! Let's go!"
Anthony paid the bill and flicked a tip
onto the table. He headed for the front of the café, Britney in tow. He swung
open the door. Cries erupted.
"Anthony!"
"Oooh!"
And ear
piercing screams. CD booklets and photos shot toward him. Anthony grabbed a
booklet. His eyes bugged out as he signed it. The words "Red Hot Chili Peppers:
Millennium" ran across the top in a bold blue font. Beneath the heading stood
Anthony, John, Michael, Kevin, and Brian, dressed in blinding white suits, arms
open, dead serious expressions. Anthony grinned.
An arm thrust into his
side.
"Uhh!" The pen jerked in Anthony's hands, stray ink streaking
across the pant legs of Michael and Kevin. The three brunettes in front of him
drew closer, and somebody shoved into his back. "Um, can everybody just move
back a bit?"
Bodies slammed into him, from either side and into his
back. A pony tailed teen fell into his arms.
"Anthony!"
One cry
distinct from the masses of others calling his name, barely audible over the
screams. Anthony glanced over his shoulder. Britney, thirty feet away, was
sinking into the crowds, her golden crown and fear stricken eyes peeking out
over their heads. He reached for her and tripped.
"Please move back,
people!" he called out to the horde. Pressing on all sides intensified. The
masses drew nearer to him, throwing the girl in his arms into his chest and
knocking the wind out of Anthony. He gasped.
Faces spiraled around him,
his head swaying. His eyelids drooped.
"We love you, Anthony!" a voice
cut through the crowd, sounding to the singer to be miles away. He lost his
footing, and the horde sucked him in. He went down.