by C. L. Ryder
“And thank God for that, otherwise I’d be asking for the whole bottle,” she said with a grin, flashing perfect teeth. The bartender laughed and pulled the bottle of MacCallan down from the shelf and tipped it into a glass.
“I recognize you,” he said. “I know you from somewhere.”
This got my curiosity burning even brighter. I sipped my drink, trying not to seem too interested in their conversation, but damn, did I want to know just who this woman was.
She smiled and shrugged, looking down at the counter. The way she did it, I knew she had to be someone pretty famous. That was the action of someone who knew she was big but didn’t want to seem like a show off.
“Twenty two dollars, please,” the bartender said, sliding the whiskey over to her. She took out a long, rectangular leather wallet from her purse and pulled out a fifty.
“Keep the change,” she told him.
“Thank you!” he said, shocked. Then he pointed at her. “Oh! That’s it! You’re Winona Heart! My little sister loves you. She’s got your posters all over her room.”
He laughed. “Yeah, that’s me.” She picked up one of the small square cocktail napkins from the bar. “If you’d like, I’ll autograph it for your sister.”
The bartender nodded, looking star struck. So that’s who she was, a teen idol. No wonder all the cousins were fawning over her. She signed the napkin and slid it over to the bartender and gave him a smile that made my knees weak. I quickly swallowed down the rest of my drink and moved on to my beer. A nice buzz was coming on.
“T-thank you,” he said, staring at the autograph. It looked like he was considering keeping it for herself. She raised her glass to him in a ‘cheers’, and then stepped away from the bar, looking out over to the dance floor where the older guests were now dancing to ‘Gangnam Style’. I saw the group of cousins at their table throwing glances over in her direction, chatting frantically amongst themselves. She was standing basically right next to me, one hand held across her slender waist, the other holding the glass of whiskey. She looked like she had stepped out of a magazine ad.
“So, uh, how do you know the bride and groom?” I asked. “If you don’t mind me asking.”
She looked over at me, her eyebrows raised for a moment, and then smiled. “Sarah and I go way back. Old middle school friends.”
“Ah,” I said, nodding.
“Hard for me to believe she’s getting married,” she said. “We always thought I would be hitched before she was. But I guess that was before the whole singer thing happened.” I thought I heard a longing in her voice that resonated with me and my own thoughts towards my relationship successes.
Just then, the gaggle of schoolgirl cousins flocked up to her, holding out napkins for her to sign, their eyes practically starry. They surrounded her, and though she smiled and graciously signed each of their napkins or whatever else they offered up to her, grinning brightly when they pulled out their cell phones to take selfies, I did feel a little bad for her. She was at her old friend’s wedding; surely she wanted to get away from all that and just be treated like a normal person.
When the girls left, I told her my thoughts.
“It does get a little tiring to have everyone know who you are,” she said. “I can’t even remember what it's like to not be recognized. I mean, not to sound full of myself or anything.”
I laughed and took a swig of my beer. “Don’t worry, I have no idea who you are,” I said. “You’re just another girl to me.” An amazingly hot girl, I thought.
“Well, cheers to that,” she grinned and held up her glass, and we clinked. “I’m Winny.”
“Lily.”
“Pop music not your thing, huh, Lily?”
“I’m more of a rock kind of girl,” I said.
She nodded. “Trust me, pop isn’t mine either. I grew up on Bowie, Van Morrison, The Beatles, older stuff. Stuff my dad listened to.” She swallowed a gulp of her whiskey. I wasn’t sure why she was telling me all this, maybe because she was happy to be hanging out with “normal” people for once, or maybe she was just buzzed. Either way, I wasn’t complaining.
She pointed to my camera. “You’re the photographer here, huh?”
I lifted the Canon DSLR and shook it. “That’s me.”
She eyed me for a moment and then nodded with a small smile. “What would you rather be shooting, Lily? Because I can tell this isn’t it.”
I laughed. “Damn, is it that obvious?”
“I mean there are some whose thing in life is to shoot weddings, but I can see it written on your face. You want something else. So, tell me, what is it?”
Had it been anyone else, the questions would’ve felt like prying and I probably would’ve told her to mind her own business, but with Winny I just felt at ease about it. Hell, I wanted to tell her.
“Well, wedding photography is definitely not what I studied in school. I’d love to shoot homes and gardens. Real people’s living spaces. I think there’s nothing more beautiful than being able to capture the real feeling of home, you know? A warm kitchen filled with fresh vegetables and food on the stove, or a lush backyard garden where a grandparent is playing with his grandchild.”
“Really,” Winny said. She looked genuinely surprised, and I felt my face grow hot.
“It’s kind of my dream,” I said. “Probably the only thing that gets a fire going in me.”
“I can tell,” she said, and sipped her whiskey. “It sounds beautiful.” She seemed distracted now.
“What about you? What’s it like to be living your passion?”
There was a flash of something on Winny’s face, almost confusion. Then she smiled. “Oh, it’s amazing. I’m blessed. So blessed to be where I’m at.”
I almost expected her to add “but…” The way she said it sounded practiced, like something an actor would say when promoting a movie she knew was shitty but had to talk it up anyway. I waited for her to continue, but she just swigged down the rest of her whiskey.
I felt a buzz in my pocket and pulled out my cell phone. It was a text from Alex, saying he was going to take a smoke break.
“Shit,” I said. “Gotta get back to work.”
I wanted to keep talking to Winny Heart, famous pop idol who I’d never heard before–though I did know her name. It was one of those names you always heard tossed around on the Internet or in conversations from time to time, along with other pop stars like Lady Gaga or Adele. I didn’t think Winny Heart was quite as famous as those two, but she was still a huge name—not that I was any kind of expert on pop idols. Winny was friendly and down to earth, nothing like what I would’ve expected a celebrity to be like, and I felt really comfortable chatting with her, which was unusual—sometimes when talking to girls I found really attractive I would freeze up and not know what to say. My beer wasn’t even finished, and I placed it on a table where I could find it.
“Okay,” Winny said, nodding. “It was wonderful meeting you, Lily.”
I really, really wanted to stay and talk to her. As I left the bar I looked back and saw her shifting from foot to foot, looking around the room. The bartender behind her stared at the back of her head, his eyes still wide and star struck. I realized that Winny was opening up to me because she knew no one here—she had come alone. It must’ve been lonely to be a stranger that everybody knows.
I found Alex; he was changing out his memory cards by the doors out of the venue. “So that girl,” I said to him, “She’s that pop singer, Winona Heart.”
“Wait, what? No fucking way,” he said, pulling out a cigarette and putting it to his lips. “I must be blind. Where?”
I pointed towards the bar and saw Sarah, the bride, hurry up to Winny and give her a hug.
“Well, damn. That’s something.” He smiled and nudged me with his elbow. “She’s pretty hot. Eh? Eh, Lily?”
I shrugged, suddenly caught off guard. “Hey, you could write about her being here in your blog.”
“Hell, no. I don’t do tabloid
crap, you know that. Hey, you should ask her out,” he said, nonchalantly.
“What?” I stammered. “No. Why would I do that? I mean, she’s celebrity and she’s not even…Look at her, she doesn’t swing that way.”
“Are you kidding? She’s totally into girls.”
“How do you know that?”
He shrugged. “As a gay man, I pride myself on my excellent gaydar. You never told me you were a lesbian.”
“I’m not, though. I just—”
“Would rather fuck girls than dudes. Come on, Lily.” He clapped me on the shoulder. “Believe in your heart. How often do you get to ask a celebrity out?” He grinned. “I’m gonna go smoke.”
I sighed and walked back towards the dance floor, snapping a couple shots of friends who were gathered and talking. They posed for me, throwing up fake gang signs and sticking out tongues, and I noticed that Winny had left the bar. I looked around to see where she went and saw that she was up speaking to the DJ, a middle aged guy who I doubted was part of Winny’s fan base. The DJ looked confused for a second, and then shrugged.
The music faded. “We’ve got a special performance here today, as requested by our very own Mrs. Sarah Martin! Come on up here Matt and Sarah. Ah—” he turned to Winny to get her name again, covering the mic with his hand. “Winny Heart here is going to sing them a song!”
There were cheers from the crowd and the new husband and wife walked up to the dance floor. The cousins rushed up, clutching each other and screaming in disbelief.
“Seems like you’ve got fans,” the clueless DJ said, and handed the mic over to Winny.
“Evening, ladies and gentlemen,” Winny said into the mic. Her voice was silky smooth, obviously trained and practiced for public performance. I was sure she didn’t even need the mic to project to everyone. I didn’t even know Winny or her music—I had just met the girl for God’s sake—but I found my heart beating faster in anticipation for her performance. I wanted to know what she sounded like when she sang. I raised my camera up and snapped a photo as Sarah and Matt joined hands, Winny standing behind them like the officiate had during the ceremony.
“My name’s Winona Heart.” There were cheers from the guests, and especially loud ones from the teenaged cousins. “I’d like to dedicate this song to my oldest friend, Sarah. To her future with Matt, who is just one of the most fantastic guys I’ve ever met. And, by extension, I’d like to dedicate this song to love.” She smiled widely, and I thought I heard the cousins squeak with excitement. “…because you never know where you may find it.”
Winny turned, and my heart leapt as her gaze found mine all the way across the room. It was only for a split second. I had no idea whether she had intended that look for me or if it had just been coincidence, but it made me feel weak. Just like that, I felt myself falling hard for this girl.
I tried to fight back the feeling, telling myself there was no way that was intentional, at least not for me. I was attracted to her, and was projecting my desires on what had happened. If anything, it was some kind of stage technique she knew—looking every single fangirl (or boy) in the eye with one sweep to make them think “she looked at me!” That had to be it. I wished Alex was here to snap me out of it.
The DJ started a song—a classic romantic pop song that I knew the lyrics to but not the name of—and Winny began to sing. The cousins and scattering of other younger guests who knew Winny’s music weren’t surprised to hear her voice, but there were enough people there who didn’t know her at all, and I saw heads turning with wide eyes as her singing carried out through the venue. I was shocked, a shiver running down my spine. Her voice was beautiful. It was powerful, clear and precise. The girl honestly could’ve carried the song without any back track. Yeah, she definitely was a pop star, alright.
Matt and Sarah danced, and I snapped out of my daze and hurried up to take photos of them. I heard the second kachick of a shutter and saw that Alex had come back in and was shooting too. His eyes were wide with surprise, and I was sure he had been drawn back inside by Winny’s singing. Her voice had power—it could draw people in. It drew me in that night, and I understood how those girls could be reduced to blubbering masses by her. It wasn’t making a fangirl out of me, but it definitely was captivating me and making my heart race. I was trying my best to keep the newlyweds as the focus of my shots, but my eye kept wandering back to Winny. When she sang, it was like she was glowing.
The song finished and Matt and Sarah kissed, and all of the guests were on their feet applauding both Winny’s performance and the couple’s romantic dance. It was definitely a moment that everyone would remember and talk about when they recalled their favorite wedding experiences. Even jaded old me thawed out a bit and remembered everything I used to love about weddings at that moment. The feeling only lasted a short while though, because it was suddenly replaced by the sad and disappointing realization that my infatuation was with a pop star who I would never see again after tonight.
I kept snapping more photos, switching to my backup camera for some nice close ups of the newlyweds, and then a few of Winny, who was beaming at them. I wished she would sing again, but after giving the two of them a hug, she returned to the bar. I wanted to go talk to her and tell her how amazing her singing was. Alex’s suggestion suddenly ran through my mind. He had been completely serious about it. But I couldn’t do something like that…could I? The woman was a famous pop singer. And what if Alex’s gaydar was wrong for once? I couldn’t deal with that embarrassment.
You should do it, a voice in the back of my head said. Just be casual about it. You don’t want to miss out on this chance.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I told myself. “It’s not happening. I’m not going to ask her out.”
Winny was buying another glass of scotch from the starry-eyed bartender, and a few of the guests had gone up to shake her hand.
She wanted to keep talking with you. Go, ask her!
I realized my palms were sweating, gripping the plastic and rubber body of my camera. I felt my legs moving, slowly pistoning me forward like the way an old steam engine’s wheels start to chug as the train came to life. What would I say to her? I had no clue, but my body was taking me to her, and nothing was going to stop it. Nothing…
“Everyone, the bride and groom are going to cut their wedding cake!” the DJ said over the PA.
My legs froze mid-stride. Shit. Everyone’s attention turned over the cake, which was on the other side of the room. Alex was staring at me with a look that said, “What are you doing, get the hell over here!” I spun around on the ball of my foot and hurried over. So much for that moment of braveness. Or stupidity.
Matt and Sarah cut their cake, and Alex and I snapped away, my eye searching around between shots to try and glimpse Winny in the crowd, but I couldn’t see her. My interest in her was just some kind of silly infatuation, a combination of her outrageous good looks, moment of attention to me, and my own pent up desires. After tonight, I’d probably go home, listen to a couple of her songs on YouTube, check out her Wikipedia, give in to a little before-bed fantasizing, and then move on with life.
Oh, how wrong I was.
After the cake cutting, the guests moved back onto the dance floor to finish out the night. Alex and I moved around the room, snapping photos of the bride and groom doing shots of Blue Label together as their friends whooped and cheered. Carol was drunk, and I overheard her talking to Matt’s mother about how she thought they should schedule and divide visits for their future grandchildren in order to not “give the child any greater preference for one pair of grandparents over the other”. I didn’t see Winny anywhere, and I guessed it was because I wasn’t the only one looking for her—now that people were taking to the dance floor I saw the teenaged cousins prowling around to try and get a certain pop star to dance with their group.
Before the very end of the reception, Alex ducked out for one more cigarette, and I took a quick break to eat cake. Once the last song had played, the
newlyweds wanted a big group photo with all of their friends in it, and so I popped on my widest lens and stood up on a chair, ushering everyone to squeeze in closer. Winny was still gone, and the cousins looked around, disappointed.
With the snap of that last photo, the reception finished. I gave Matt and Sarah my congratulations again and started packing up my gear. Alex came back in from his cigarette and helped me pull down the strobe flashes we had rigged up on light stands. “I met your pop star crush outside,” he said, smirking at me. “Nice girl. You should’ve asked her out. She totally is into chicks.”
“Where did she go?” I asked.
“She said she wanted to bounce before she took away too much of the night from her friends. I could see what she meant. After that song, half the people in the room wanted to mob her. I could also see the young studs starting to get bold ideas with their rising intoxication levels.” Alex gave me a little smile.
