Confessions of a Backup Dancer

by Tucker Shaw

  CHANGE IT!! I screamed. she began pushing buttons frantically. and there’s katie couric staring out at us talking about west nile disease.

  I go. Aren’t you and your mom going to be on the today show one of these days?

  she goes. No, that was the view, and it was last week. we flew up for a couple of hours when we were in D.C.

  I go, Oh, I didn’t know. it sucked, she said. we had to sing mama knows best. she was silent for a minute.

  i was about to say something lame like “that’s cool” when she started talking again. You know, it was our second time on the view this summer. I guess it’s a record … The Star said it’s the first time a mother-daughter team has performed the same song on the view twice.

  I looked at her, wondering what to say. I had no idea if what she’d just told me was a good thing or not. I still hadn’t figured out what to say during the LAST awkward silence and here I was faced with another one!

  saved again! darcy blurted: “Hey! Why don’t you and ME do a duet?”

  I was like, urn, ok, hell yeah! d.b. wants to do a duet, I’m down. like mama knows best? I said.

  she goes NO way! You know I hate that song!

  I was like PHEW! I HATE IT TOO! I laughed, and she laughed back.

  This was one of those times when I actually liked her.

  we’ll make it about best friends, like you and moi! c’mon let’s go down to my home recording studio!

  I was like “home recording studio? what is this, MTV Cribs? ok. totally let’s do it. hey you watch for jesse and I’ll just take a quick shower ok??”

  but she didn’t hear me, I don’t think. Katie Couric was talking about how this kid was rescued from a flood in Mississippi and darcy was totally crying. oh my lordy that is so sad! that little boy lost his puppy! oh I’m calling eileen to send him a new bloodhound. where’s my cellie? Note: new addition to my list of her multiple personalities. Random Acts of Kindness Darcy.

  I snuck down into her kitchen to see if there was any coffee brewing. rock and roll, there was.

  I could hear her yelling upstairs: “K.K. you gotta see this! jesse looks sooo cute!”

  I pretended not to hear. I focused on my coffee. It’s not like we’ll actually be writing a song together anyway. darla would never let that happen. there’s no way darcy’s serious about it.

  TUESDAY JULY 9

  O-TOWN, BABY, 12:15 PM

  Outfit: I’m in the same thing I was in yesterday, everything darcy’s. we haven’t left the house and I haven’t showered in over a day, and it feels great. :-)

  Mood: After a rocky start, beginning to feel comfortable in this style to which I’ve become accustomed.

  turns out darcy was serious about writing a song together.

  see?

  Be with Me (Reality)

  (© 2003 Darcy Barnes and K.K. Kimball)

  Don’t be lame

  Don’t be stupid

  Don’t be boring

  Don’t be fake

  Be real!

  Don’t be ill

  Don’t be crazy

  Don’t be shady

  Don’t be late

  Be real!

  You gotta be real

  To be with me (reality)

  You gotta know the deal

  To be with me (reality)

  Cause reality

  Is the way to be

  Be with me (reality)

  Don’t be a clone

  Don’t be trendy

  Don’t be just like

  All the rest

  Be real!

  (Rap)

  Reality reality is the only way that I can be

  And all my girls around me say

  Be real, be real, just keep it real, hey!

  You gotta be real

  To be with me (reality)

  You gotta know the deal

  To be with me (reality)

  Cause reality

  Is the way to be

  Be with me (reality)

  we finished it in like an hour and it was pretty cool. I went in just expecting to goof around and do silly stuff, but darcy went totally pro when we got into the studio. I was amazed at how well she worked that studio. it was pretty big … way bigger than Snoop’s on Cribs. walls and walls of equipment and speakers and woofers and subwoofers and whatever else that stuff is. and like a soundproof booth with a big huge mike in it and a bunch of instruments leaning up against the wall.

  darcy’s a better musician than they give her credit for. that girl can play a tune on the keyboard by ear, no problem, even if when you hum it for her you’re totally off-key. and she comes up with some really cute melodies. I found harmonies pretty easily for her melodies (thanks dad for that early childhood California Dreamin’ training) and our voices didn’t sound that bad together at all!

  as far as lyrics, she said we should go for straight-out cheese because as far as she can tell, cheese is what sells. and she said she wanted me to make some money off of it. I was like, well, ok. why not. so cheese we produced.

  she goes ha! I bet Pashmina can’t write her own songs. and she didn’t make the 50 most gorgeous list either did she? do you think my hair is better than hers?

  luckily, my pager cut her off.

  DUDE WHERE R U

  DUDE WHERE R U

  DUDE WHERE R U

  etc. oh god not again. it’s evan! it’s 12:15, and he landed an hour ago. he’s at the airport! luckily darcy keeps a navigator at this house, too. my brother needs a ride.

  TUESDAY JULY 9

  DARCY’S HOUSE

  ORLANDO, 8:14 PM

  Outfit: vintage OP long-sleeve tee, cargo shorts, flip-flops. I’m like the original surfer today.

  Hair: shinier than ever. darcy and I soaked our hair in tea yesterday and lay out in the sun all afternoon. it really works! my calves got kinda sunburned though.

  Mood: stoked to see evan. Note use of “stoked,” a popular surfing expression. in fact, I’m in a good mood all around.

  Evan was starving when we went to pick him up so we stopped off at hardee’s drive thru, then dunkin’ donuts. Then it was off to Disney World where we went through the VIP entrance for every ride.

  we went on all the rides. it’s amazing how, if you don’t have to wait in line, you can really do all of them in a couple of hours.

  evan and I got hardly three minutes alone the whole day to talk about mom. but he told me that she told him that she really wants to leave carl. that was right before she went to palm desert. I bet she’s asking Aunt Linda for some money or if she and evan can stay there and if I know Aunt Linda she’s saying no way you made this bed now you gotta sleep in it and then I can picture mom practically begging Aunt Linda and her still saying no.

  and then I can picture mom totally bolting and giving up on the whole thing and crying in the car on the way home to san diego, alone.

  damn I hate how money screws up everything. what am I going to do when this job is over?

  THURSDAY JULY 21

  RIHGA ROYAL HOTEL

  NEW YORK CITY, 11:46 PM

  Outfit: Shiny black halter and faded jeans. Black boots.

  Hair: Just when I thought it couldn’t get any better, Shaundree gave me this cocoa butter stuff that makes it so shiny. And it’s back to light brown with blond streaks. she took a pic with her digital camera so I could email tito. he’ll be so happy. but I digress.

  Fortune: Do what needs doing. Don’t do what doesn’t.

  oh, to be back in Orlando, back when Darcy wasn’t so high maintenance.

  ok here’s my story. we are in new york for the biggest show on the tour, the one we’re filming for a pay-per-view concert. everyone’s sort of been talking about it since the beginning of the tour but I’ve been kind of not thinking about it. for me, every show is a big scary monster to face down … the new york pay-per-view show is just a little bigger and a little scarier … ok, it’s a lot scarier. because I know tito will be watching. not to mention my mother. not to
mention the entire rest of the world.

  and tonight the record company rented out this bar called Jaguar or Leopard or something and threw her a huge party tonight for selling a trillion copies or whatever. even though we knew we have a huge show coming up, the show, we partied pretty hard.

  someone should tell darcy that she still can’t legally drink. that would be fun. then again, she probably wouldn’t pay much attention at the moment considering she’s, well, drunk isn’t really the word for it … Darcy barnes, the biggest star in the universe, the envy of teen girls everywhere and the x-rated daydream of teen boys everywhere is lying in the bathroom, wrapped around the toilet in a fetal position, refusing to stand up. or is it unable to stand up? … her head’s wedged in kinda tight behind the plumbing back there. for all I know she could be immobilized. but maybe that’s a good thing so she doesn’t get in bed and puke THERE instead.

  really attractive. very nice, for america’s sweetheart.

  it’s amazing how, even in this position, she looks like she’s posing. even in this position, her belly button is front and center. the girl can’t even puke without her belly showing. did she PLAN that? hair crusted with vomit notwithstanding, she’s camera ready.

  Yup, crusted vomit. well, I guess that’s what she gets for slamming down 4 slippery nipples in a half-hour at Deep, THE club this week in nyc. (yes, if you’re a celeb, you *can* get a drink before age 21. in fact, if you even know a celeb, you can get a drink. how do you think I got my own slippery nipple? notice I said one. which I didn’t even finish. not four.)

  anyway, so yeah, darcy downed four slippery nipples before they even served the cake, yeah, *that* cake. it was a “photo-frosted” cake that was iced to supposedly look like her face in the “Love You Like a Lollipop” video but instead it looked like courtney love meets marilyn manson.

  anyway, there she was, drunk in a coochie-slit skirt and a deep-neck crop jacket (no shirt), bending over to blow out candles that weren’t even there. she thought it was her birthday, I guess. either that or she’d WANTED to give the front of the room a boob show and the back of the room a butt show.

  talk about your slippery nipples! and hello, I see London and France. Hell, from this angle I can see Lake Titicaca.

  out of the corner of my eye I also caught jesus and armand engaged in a full-on tongue kiss.

  luckily (I guess) no one really captured the critical moment for major worldwide circulation. at least, not that I saw. I mean, I guess seeing paris hilton’s was enough for one summer and the paparazzi decided it was no longer a scoop. or maybe the paparazzi were too busy drooling to get their cameras focused in time. sickos. the girl is barely legal.

  She’s moaning in there. she just goes, “jesse, jesse.” Yeah I WISH jesse was in town right now. Then I wouldn’t have to deal with this. you would have passed out on his watch, not mine. The thing is you never really know when he’s going to be around and when he isn’t. Guys.

  Why isn’t rashid here? He’d know what to do.

  Should I go look and see how she’s doing? Ugh. why does this happen to me? ugh once again K.K. gets suckered into being darcy’s best friend and watchdog. cause no one else will. (or no one else cares enough.)

  especially not darla, who was busy the whole party, making out with some Man in Black in one of the back banquettes at the leopard or jaguar or whatever bar, and jesse had long since left with Outkast and Tara Reid, and rashid wasn’t even there, so the only person there to rescue darcy from herself was you guessed it, moi. I had to get her out of there. I mean it’s not like darcy can be seen staggering drunk from her big fancy industry party all alone, looking around for her car or something. I sucked it up and we ducked out, me smiling and darcy drooling. I tried my best to hold her up. she tripped on the curb, though, and at least one camera got her mid-fall. then she flipped off the assembled press from inside the car. I grabbed her hand to stop her.

  It was a short ride back to the hotel, but she still managed to puke in the limo. make that on my boots. it was when this Pashmina song “Get Down on Me” came on the radio. I had to yell at the driver TURN THAT DOWN PLEASE but the damage had been done. she slurred Sssssshcrew Pashmina … ssshhhee can’t sssssinnng … waitlllll my sssshow tomorrow night. you’lll seeeee. I’m going to sssssing way better than pa-pa-Pashmina.

  we finally made it back up to my room, Darcy draped across my shoulders, but not before she got all wack on me in the elevator and started talking about how much she loves me and admires me and how much I’m her best friend blah blah blah. I hate how she gets like that sometimes. (funny how it always happens after too many rounds of Peach Pussycats, Tequila Mockingbirds, or Cockblockers or something.)

  anyway the poor li’l international superstar was halfway through her third “and I really want my hair just like yours. I mean, I don’t CARE what it looks like!” when she sat down on the bathroom floor “just for a second.” That’s the last thing she said.

  it’s not pretty at the moment but whatever. the way I see it, we’re in this together now, and she needs my help. besides I kinda owe her. she was so cool with my bro last week.

  should I go in there? god this sucks.

  SlipKnotRules933111: where are you

  KellyKelSoCal321: new york

  SlipKnotRules933111: carl and the twins are gone

  KellyKelSoCal321: WHAT?

  SlipKnotRules933111: left last night

  KellyKelSoCal321: fuck. but do u and mom get to stay at the house?

  SlipKnotRules933111: no he’s coming back in four weeks and we have to be gone. we have until August 22

  KellyKelSoCal321: where’s mom

  SlipKnotRules933111: she and that lawyer are talking downstairs.

  KellyKelSoCal321: they spend a lot of time together

  SlipKnotRules933111: tell me about it

  KellyKelSoCal321: fuck, evan that sucks.

  SlipKnotRules933111: that’s ok I’m leaving tomorrow for a weeklong school trip to boot camp in utah.

  KellyKelSoCal321: no WAY!

  SlipKnotRules933111: yeah just like on Real Boot Camp Disasters!

  KellyKelSoCal321: be careful dude ok

  SlipKnotRules933111: you too

  KellyKelSoCal321: what do you mean?

  FRIDAY JULY 26

  RIHGA ROYAL HOTEL

  NEW YORK CITY, 6:50 AM

  Mood: stressed out. they’re coming at me from all sides. and tonight’s the big pay-per-view show.

  darla barnes pounded on my hotel suite door this morning at 6:30 AM and shoved a clipping from the New York Morning Star Herald-Tribune Post in my face. Doesn’t she sleep?

  Just asking …

  Which overfeted multiplatinum-selling blond divette who’s in town to shoot a much-hyped pay-per-view concert special and needs to be at the top of her game tonight toppled off her platform boots on her way out of last night’s 18th birthday bash at a hip downtown nite spot? Seems the wasted warbler, in town to film a pay-per-view concert at the Garden, threw back an extra Slippery Nipple or two without considering the consequences (ah, the travails of youth) and after two bar-top dances and one involuntary flash had to be assisted (some say carried) from the venue by her bestest backup dancer, who lovingly deposited the soda-pop star back at their hotel before commencing yet another liaison with her paramour, himself a pop star of platinum status. Oh, and note to the porn star … we mean pop star … in question: you left your wrap at the coat check.

  “HOW could you let this happen?” she screamed. “I trusted you with her last night. it was my understanding that you would not leave her side. you knew it was the night before the biggest show of the tour, the biggest show of darcy’s life, yet you managed to get my daughter drunk in a bar? in front of industry people? what are you thinking?”

  I thought about fighting back, defending myself. I thought about asking her what she was doing in that back banquette while her own daughter was abusing alcohol and inviting photographs of her panties, but I knew tha
t would go nowhere. I just said, “I’m sorry.”

  she barked at me. “SORRY doesn’t really cut it right now does it? Just be glad it was a blind item with no names. Oh, and I’ve granted an interview to the paper, in which I name you, k.k. kimball, as a bad influence on darcy. you are the one who got her drunk. they’re running the item tomorrow. we’re at least going to get some extra press out of this situation. when this tour is over, you are finished. I mean completely finished.

  and with that she bolted, slamming the door behind her. great, I thought, she’s probably off to the Today Show to rant about how the press is unfair to her daughter. (who, in the meantime, is still in my bed, sleeping and sweating at the same time. pretty. luckily I closed the door to the bedroom before darla could see her.) I leaned against the door, hoping she was gone.

  before I could exhale, Darla began pounding on the door again. I could barely open it when her face pushed itself into the crack and hissed, “and if you DARE record another duet with my daughter, if you even think about it, I will personally see to it that you leave the tour and never record music in this town or any other town again in your life. I am darcy’s one and only duet partner. NOT you. I am a singer. YOU are a BACKUP DANCER. stay out of the way. do I make myself clear?”

  I wanted to spit back “I don’t care i hate that stupid song we wrote together! it’s a joke! it’s almost as bad as yours” but I just nodded and closed the door. she pounded again, yelling, “and get her coat back, pronto!” but I didn’t open it. I couldn’t take any more. I mean it wasn’t even seven a.m.

  now tito and probably my mother are going to see darla’s story in the papers and they’ll think I’m spending the summer lushed out on a cross-country scorpion-bowl tour. ugh.

  how did this happen to me? how did I become the fall girl? it was bad enough that they blamed that whole darcy barnes transvestite look-alike contest fiasco on me, now I have to take the heat for darcy’s immature liver. I need a latte.

  I can’t believe it’s not even 7 in the morning yet. I’m hung over and I’m horrified.

  thank god I’m K.K. right now and not Kelly. I’m not sure I’d be able to deal.

  To: Tito_T

  From: kaykay4real