This is my first Velvet Goldmine fan fiction. If you find any inconsistency with the details of the film (such as Shannon's hair, Brian's previous manager, etc), please correct me ^^
Disclaimer: I think it's Todd Hayne and Miramax Studio
Enjoy the reading ^^
The Last String
It started from a glance. Well, for him or for us, whatever you call it. For me, it started long before that. For me, it will never end. For us, I'll make it last forever.
It happened in one of those crazy nights. It was my first time, actually. Boss was under me, caressing my lower body. He looked at everyone in the room. No one seemed to care but me. Not even his wife. Then his eyes met mine. It was so brief that anyone could ignore. But it was long enough for our eyes to talk. He was seeking for my approval. I was seeking for his preference. It was a short but fair deal.
He plunged himself into Curt's arms and legs after that. I reserve mine for his sanctuary.
Then it came the first divorce. An obvious fall came later. Jerry had lost every cell of his money-driven brain to drag him out of pieces. I never thought he could be that broken hearted. No, broken hearted wasn't the right word. He's a selfish guy. It was more like he mourned over his lost ego.
"Mr. Slade, you can't be like this forever. We need you. Your fans need you."
"Now you call me Mr. Slade?" He laughed bitterly.
"Ha! I got your attention!" I smiled at him. He didn't respond. His hands were busy cuddling Curt's legacy: heroin.
"Brian, let's just finish the tour. And then you can do whatever you want. You can weep for him forever if that's what you want."
"I've been hearing that a thousand times. Why should I hear that again from you, Shannon?"
"Well, I have a proposition for you," I smiled really nice at him, hoping he would raise his face, away from his beloved heroin powder.
"I'm tired of this, Shannon. I want to quit."
"No, you don't," of course I kept these words to myself.
"Yes, I understand that, Brian. But you can't quit that easily. Not before you listen to my proposition."
He was still fiddling the heroin pouches. He probably wouldn't look at me, anyway. So I leaned closer to him. I explained everything to him. I didn't care if he didn't listen anything at all. I didn't care if I had to repeat my words a thousand times.
The only thing I cared was to be with him. He had no wife and no lover at that moment. More likely, he didn't want to have them. And they didn't want him, either. Which was good. My ideas versus his bruised ego. There were never such a perfect moment like this.
"What do you think, Brian?"
He mumbled, more like talking to his beloved heroin.
"You didn't listen to a word I said, did you?"
"Fake shooting. Glam rock dies. New name. New identity. Did I miss something, Shannon?"
"No. You did just great, Brian. Now, what do you think of it?"
He closed his eyes and then laid his body on the couch.
"I'll think about it," he said as he dozed off.
Think as hard as you can, Brian Slade. Take time as long as you need. But you won't find a better way, a better option than mine.
I am your last hope, my love
The next city is Birmingham. Three gigs more and then the tour is over. Damn, I'm exhausted already. Sometimes I think I'm too old for this. But this is my life. Touring, performing, singing, making albums… that's my life. I know no other life than this. No. I don't want to know other life than this. Cause I love this life.
Mandy knew it. She knew that I was aroused everytime the crowd called out my name. She knew that everytime the crowd cried "MORE" or "ENCORE", I felt like having orgasm. She knew that when I saw Curt on that stage.
Curt knew nothing what Mandy knew. But he knew where to touch me. He knew which of my muscles that made me shiver everytime he dug his long nails on them. He knew what he could do that Mandy couldn't. He knew how to make me scream, on stage or in bed with him. He knew how to distract me from real world, to suck me into his. And he knew how to tear me into pieces.
"Want some drinks, Mr. Stone?" A woman's voice is heard.
"Mr. Stone?" I reply her.
She chuckles. "I mean, Tommy. Lime soda?" she says as she hands me a can of lime soda.
I take the can and sip its liquid.
"It's been a long time since you first called me that name, Shannon."
"Yeah. Five years. Five beautiful years," she smiles.
"Why don't you call me with my real name, since we're all alone here?"
Her smile grows even wider.
"If you say so, Brian Slade."
She walks toward the mirror in front of me. Then she sits there, facing me. I can see reflection of her back and brunette hair in the mirror behind her.
And we talk and talk for hours like two long lost friends. Except that we see each other everyday.
I don't need to touch her. I know she wants it, but she never asks me to. And it doesn't seem to be a big deal for her. As long as I have everything I need, she is content. I know that, for she always makes sure of that.
I once had a wife. She used to love me like a mother, praising me everytime she could even in my worst times. We used to share happiness, a pair of wedding rings and some pieces of paper. But I've had enough of having a mother.
I once had a lover. He used to convince me that there's no limit for multiple orgasms. And he used to make me happy for not being the only jerk in this world. I've spoiled enough with a lover and jerk in bed and in recording studio.
Now I have a manager. I can ask her to be a friend if I need to. She can ask me to go to hell if I feel like to ditch myself in drugs. I can ask her to provide any beautiful women or men in my bed. She can ask me to get rid of any lover if she finds me too deeply attached with them.
She knows what Mandy knew. She knows what Curt knew. She knows everything about me. She knows I can cling myself on her for the rest of my life.
"I'm glad you're here, Shannon."
She's my last string. And I don't want to escape. Never.
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