https://youtu.be/lRiZAYmgSRo

Dear readers, some of the original chapters have been split into multiple parts so they are easier to view on mobile. This resulted in some abrupt endings.

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"Here's your order - tonic with absinthe." the bartender puts a tall glass before me. "A bit strong for a woman, don't you think?"

I smile widely at the pleasant man before me and joyfully savor the cold bitterness fading on my tongue. With tipsy candidness I check out the bartender, who is serving a person a few seats away. He looks more suited to be a criminal: dense beard, muscled arms covered with tattoos, and a generally rugged look.

"Is everything fine?"The bartender smiles, his brackets making him look absurd and cute at the same time. "Excuse me for asking, but why have you been sitting here the whole afternoon, instead of the hall?" He gestures toward the wild crowd near the stage. "You don't like it?"

The bartender's booming voice easily blocks out the loud music, whereas I need to strain mine.

"I absolutely love it! But I'm the manager of the band."

"Seriously? How is it? Lots of work I'm guessing? If you don't mind me asking, of course."

"A reasonable amount. PR, Concerts, organizational work. I'm also a tailor. And a make-up artist. A jack of all trades pretty much."

It's getting harder to speak and I'm trying to do so in short phrases in order to not sound too drunk.

I laugh at the sound of screaming girls coming from the concert hall - the vocalist ripped off his shirt and is now showing his bare chest off to rapturous fangirls, who are raising their hands.

"Good singer," the bartender winks. "is he your boyfriend?"

"Who? Akela? No way!" I shake my head. "My partner is the bass-guitarist, the one with long hair. His name is Ian; he's the leader of the band."

"Got it. So, how's business? Have you done a lot of tours already?"

"We've been touring for a month now, but business is so-so. Half-empty halls and excited schoolgirls. Enough money for fuel and rent. But food isn't too special."

"Ah, I get it." the bartender nods his head with sympathy. "You see, I was also a musician in the past, even made an album."

"And how did that album turn out? Was it popular?"

"I wouldn't say so. Just wasted a lot of money and time on a pointless hobby. Before there was the illusion of popularity and fame, but it crumbled with age. Plus, there are too many people with the same ideas nowadays. We live in a time of talented people, where the constant contribution kills demand, and the abundance of choice kills our desire."

"And that's why you became a bartender-philosopher and let your talent go down the drain?

"That is arguable. " he takes my empty glass. "here's a paradox: talent has the same value as ancient currency, but most of the time you have to bury non-profitable talents in order to have a steady income in the swamp called the office."

"But you're not working in an office, are you?" I ask, my mind barely comprehending what he just said "It's not boring here, right?"

But sadly the bartender is already running off to serve a new customer. I turn around to see a long-haired blonde girl elegantly sitting down on a neighboring stool. She glances around and orders:

"Ale, Light."

The girl's perfume gives off a pleasant scent, one that I have never smelled before. For a second I even want to ask the brand, but her arrogant expression makes me reconsider.

I hear the final accords of the last song, pay the bartender and heavily climb off the stool. In fifteen minutes we have an autograph session, and after that we are leaving. By tomorrow morning we already have to be in the nearby town for the Fall Festival.

The tall mirror in the corridor flatters my self-esteem. The hairdo still holds - long, crooked bangs with a Mohawk at the back, which I thoroughly covered in hair gel so that it will not curl. The short purple dress elegantly outlines my legs, but the backside could preferably stand out a bit more, and the belly less, but it's fine; everything's easily adjustable. The new red heels hurt the back of my feet, but a true woman can walk and smile with pride, even though she wants to crawl and cry.

I ascend to the second floor to the changing room to get the merchandise, but to my surprise the door is shut and Lewis, the drummer, is loitering nearby. As soon as he sees me, Lewis shoos me away.

"You can't go there right now!" he whispers. "Ian is having an important interview!"

"Important interview? With whom?" I complain quietly. "Why didn't anyone call me? I'm the manager after all. Did they not let you in?"

"Well. . . I wanted to go in, but I'm big and heavy, and the room is small enough as it is. Long story short, Ian threw me out to keep people away."

"Who is there with him?"

"I dunno, didn't see them. Sounds like a woman."

"He's with a. . ." I exclaim, but Lewis covers my mouth with his hand and drags me down the hall. Afterwards he whispers in my ear, his breath smelling like tobacco and mints.

"Why are you shouting? They are simply talking. If you haven't showed up I might have eavesdropped on them."

"What kind of voice was it? Old? Young?"

"Hard to tell, she talked quietly, and had a husky tone"

"Would be good if she was a rich old woman." I whisper dreamily. "The older the better, as they give more money."

"What are you on about?"

"Imagine if the grandma came to rent a few sweet boys for the night? Here's the escape from our financial problem!"

"In your dreams!" Lewis responds with a frightened tone. "I'm fat and not sweet at all; if anything, we'll bait the lady onto Akela."

"Yeah, and having to pay her for the mental trauma after, no thank you. Shh! I think they're coming out!"

I hear the clack of heels as the door opens, revealing an attractive woman - a Blondie, who I already met at the bar. Wait, how did she get here before I did? Maybe she is a different woman? That is probably the case, all glam blondies look very similar. She is wearing a loose, beige tunic held together by a wide belt, and black pants. Due to her perfect body, the outfit looks like an evening dress. It is revealing enough to make the male population drool. A specific person next to me clicks his tongue, and whispers: "There's your grandma!" A specific person #2, called Ian, is accompanying the woman, gallantly holding her by the shoulder.

He walks her to the staircase, gently whispering something into her ear, and then kisses her hand. Kisses! Her hand! What a sod!

When the clatter of heels silences, Ian turns around and with a feigned surprise looks at me and Lewis, while we are showering him with questions. How can you resist doing that in the current situation? Ian brushes our questions off with simple and generic phrases, such as the meeting took place in a friendly environment, the woman is called Vicky, and she made an interesting proposition which will benefit us all.

"Come on, at least give us a hint what you discussed about!"

"We talked about the beach, starry nights. . ." Ian jokes. "Anyway, the autograph session starts in. . ." He looks at his watch "Crap, it started already! Go! Now!

And off we go to work. The boss's orders are absolute.

As if on purpose, the autograph session today is taking forever. I'm sitting by the table filled with CDs, posters, calendars and the rest of merchandise, which is barely selling. After an hour my level of anger toward human idiocy rises to the maximum. I mean, I understand that the schoolgirls don't have a lot of money, you can't save a lot on Starbucks, but why do they have to spend an hour digging in products like it's some sort of archaeological dig site?! 

I'm almost used to the fact that women don't like me either - for them I'm a spoiled girl, taking advantage of my position to get close to the band members. This can be seen in everything - mean looks, gossips, rude laughter. Some try to subtly be rude, while others do the opposite - show friendliness and ask about future plans. All of these people I kindly direct to the band members. It is their autograph session, so they should give the interviews as well. As for myself, I'm a quiet person and ask to be ignored. But the only thoughts in my head are about that Blondie from before. Who is she and what does she need?

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