The Concert

It was dawn. Morning was breaking through the gap in the curtains. Eva glanced at her reflection in the mirror above the fireplace. It was dark but there was just enough light to make out the emaciated arms and legs, covered in tattoos, the tiny childlike frame, and oversized head, made large by her trademark beehive hair. Scattered around her was the debris of fast food, alcohol, and drugs. Empty packets of crisps, chicken nuggets boxes, beer and vodka bottles drained of their content lay all around. Across the table, on the couch, on the floor. Sitting on the mantlepiece, so as not to be lost amongst the garbage, were crumpled balls of tinfoil.

It was Saturday morning, but for Eva, it was a continuation of Wednesday. That was when she had started, and if she had slept since then, she wasn’t aware of it. Isaac was crashed in the corner of the room, slumped on the floor, leaning against the wall. He was surrounded by other unconscious bodies.

A couple lay, naked, in each other’s arms. Eva remembered them putting on a show. They had met each other at the party, but after days of non-stop drugs and drinking a game of spin the bottle had started. The winners, or losers, depending on your point of view, had to fuck each other right there in front of everyone. Eva had sat on the couch watching them go at it whilst eating a big mac and drinking straight vodka from the bottle.

She wondered if she would have gone through with it if the bottle stopped its spinning in front of her. She was the queen bee. She could have refused and no-one would have said a thing, but that would have been lame.

“It has to stop,” said Ray. He was standing next to her holding a newspaper. “I would open your curtains, but the pavement is full of paps, just waiting to get that first photo of you.”

“All right Ray, it’s over.”

“You can’t trust any of these people. One of these arseholes sent the picture to the papers. You realise that, don’t you?”

Ray had arrived a few minutes earlier with a tabloid newspaper screaming out the headline “Eva’s Crackhouse”. A picture of Eva, blurry but still identifiable, was splashed across the front page. She was leaning down over the table, sucking on a pipe as she held a lighter to it.

“They are scum, all of them. Why can’t you see that?”

“It’s not like that, lover. We were having fun. Nobody’s catching me out, I’m part of it. Don’t you see that. I don’t care if people know I smoke. I smoke Ray, whatever, it’s nothing to me.”

“It’s killing you, Eva.”

“We got the concert tonight, yeah?”

“You can’t do that. I’m canceling it.”

“Nah, don’t do that Ray. I said I’ll do it, and I’ll do it. Take me upstairs. Put me to bed. I’ve got all day to sleep it off. It’s good.”

Ray took her in his arms and shuffled her out of the front room, leaving the debris behind.

“You still love me, Ray?”

“Always.”

“But you hate me too, don’t you?”

“I don’t hate you, I hate Isaac.”

“Isaac did nothing to me, Ray. This is all inside here,” she tapped her head. “I did this, just me. He’s come along for the ride. You won’t come for the ride Ray, you can’t be my man.”

“Okay, Eva, whatever you say.”

“Don’t cancel the concert, lover. Promise me.”

“I promise.”

*

Eva stood at the front of the stage. The set behind her was a mock-up of a drawing room, not unlike her own front room that she had partied in for three days straight. The band was scattered between the standard lamps with patterned and fringed shades. Eva’s makeup was heavy and applied over previous applications. Through the patchwork of makeup, there were visible scabs. Her eyeliner, self-administered, was uneven and smudged.

“Did you enjoy the newspapers today?” she asked the crowd.

The audience cheered.

“Come to see the freak show. Well, I’m here. The party was epic, but here I am, and once I’ve done this shit, I will party all over again. Hey paps, did you like the pictures I sent? That’s right, I sent them. You got nothing on me I don’t want you to have, understand?”

“Sing Eva,” someone shouted. “Come on, Eva.”

“When I’m ready,” she said. “My show, my shit. If you don’t like it, fuck off.”

There were a few rumbles of discontent from the crowd. The band started an intro, trying to get her to join in. She ignored them.

“I get to decide when tonight’s show will start, not you cunts.”

A section of the audience booed. Phones were held aloft, filming the implosion.

“Go on then, film me. Have your fun. You paid for it, feel free,” she said, arms outstretched.

“We love you, Eva.”

“Do you love me?”

“We love you.”

“You’re a skanky whore.”

Eva nodded as the crowd fell silent. “A skanky whore. Is that what you’re here for?”

“Fuck yeah,” the same voice shouted. It came from the front of the audience.

Eva leaned down and picked up a bottle of beer she’d placed in front of her. She walked to the edge of the stage, in front of the footlights. She could see the crowd now. Someone threw a punch at another audience member.

“Is that the guy with the mouth?”

“Ignore him, Eva.”

She took a swig from the bottle and then, holding it by the neck, threw it in the fight’s direction. Someone screamed as the bottle missed its target and landed in another section of the crowd.

“Fuck you. Fuck all of you. The show’s over for tonight.” She turned and stepped back over the footlights. Turning to face the audience, she raised her middle finger in their direction and walked offstage.

“Let’s go,” said Ray, as she reached the side.

“Where to lover? You coming along for the ride tonight?”

“You’re coming with me this time. Somewhere safe.”

“Where’s Isaac?”

“Probably shooting up in the toilet. He can catch up with us later.”

The audience was booing loudly, stamping their feet, and a chant started up. “Why are we waiting?” They threw paper cups onto the now empty stage.

Ray guided Eva through the rabbit warren of corridors under the main auditorium. The roof above transmitting a dull and repetitive thud from the stamping feet of the unhappy crowd above them.

“They don’t love me,” said Eva, laughing.

“Not tonight.”

“But you still love me, right?”

“Always.” Ray pushed open the fire exit. The limo was right there. He opened the car door and Eva fell forward towards the seat.

“Is there a mini bar?”

“No more drink tonight,” he said.

The car sped off, leaving the city behind.

“You’ll tell Isaac where we’ve gone?”

“I’ll tell Isaac.”

Read part 3 here