BlueSilkenSky
Rock n' Roll Doggie VIP PASS
Okay, it's not as odd as I made it out to be, but... I really don't know what to think of it. The characters of Bono and Morleigh are especially different to me. But what does it seem to you?
I don't think it's a rule that I HAVE to post a disclaimer, because you all know it never happened.
Bono lifts his heavy lids and takes one look at the room before groaning and letting his eyes close again.
Is there anyone next to me?
The bed is empty, all but for Bono’s warm body.
Thank God…
How late was he up last night- and how many drinks had he had? It’s pretty hard to remember everything. One thing’s for certain- the phone call that Marieke helped write was perfect. Bono remembers the crowd loving every second of it. He craves that feeling, the applause and the cheering. Audiences have strength in numbers.
I live to serve them.
Then there was the club. He knows he went out to party instead of out to the studio for the album. And Marieke was there… and they danced… and she was quite a good dancer at that…
Bono thinks that maybe she should sit in general admission sometime again. She is a fan after all… and maybe he could pull her up again.
Anyway, everything after the club is a blur, all up to falling asleep at the hotel and waking up feeling sick. Bono’s almost afraid to fully open his eyes- it might make the pounding in his head worse.
Why didn’t we go out to the studio?
He isn’t sure. The LP needs work, and instead of doing that work he had taken his friends out to party. What the hell? It’s about time to stop the crazy fun and focus on something serious.
But he doesn’t want to give it up. They’ve spent what, 13 years as a band, 6 years as a mega-group, and only two years as the stereotypical rockers? That’s not nearly enough time to fit in what all they’ve missed. However, if U2 continues to follow this direction, the joke will lose its flavor, to the point where it’s not even a joke anymore.
Okay, you can have… 7 more years of decadence, but as soon as the new century hits the party’s over. Bono grins wryly. He’s not even sure he wants to think that far ahead.
His eyes crack open, revealing a darkened hotel room with the blinds drawn. Bono lies in bed, blinking until his vision has properly adjusted. Then he slowly drags himself into a sitting position.
Ugh. What were those drinks spiked with?
Because there’s no way on Earth he could have drunk that much in one night… no, Bono knows better than that…
Thirst registers. Despite the quantity of drink consumed last night, Bono is parched. And, unsurprisingly, given the said amount of drink, really needs to pee.
So he gets up reluctantly and moves toward the bathroom connected to his suite. As he flips the light on and groans, the name hits him forcefully.
Marieke.
He ever so slowly removes his hand from his face, only letting one ray of light in at a time until he’s adjusted to it. His head throbs.
Dammit…
He doesn’t want to look in the mirror.
Eventually he must, though, while washing his hands. His hair’s a mess, tangled lumps or black strewn around his face. His eyes are reddened and can’t seem to focus correctly.
If Marieke could see this, she’d understand why Bono had seemed so tired at breakfast the two times she’d eaten with him.
And it flashes again in Bono’s mind.
Marieke.
What is it about that girl? She’s just a fan, isn’t she? A very charismatic fan, but a fan nonetheless. The type Bono flirts with every night onstage, and sometimes off. She’s just one of them.
She did do a good job writing the phone call, though. And she has a unique view of looking at the world.
Maybe I should let her come to one of the studio sessions.
Maybe. Let’s consider this further, after breakfast.
***
“I am a writer of the Devil’s speeches,” I tell Lina with a giggle, twisting the phone cord around my finger.
“Come again?”
“Well…” I relax and hang my head off the end of the bed, viewing my room upside down. “I was hired to help Bono write the phone calls from the stage every night. You know, for MacPhisto…?”
“Is that a job?” Lina asks, uncertainty peeking through her voice.
I shrug. “So far it’s working. I haven’t gotten paid for it, but maybe I will after I write a few more. Bono liked what I had last night, though.”
“Mmm…” Lina wants to move on. “So what’s it like hanging with your favorite band?”
“Our favorite band,” I correct her. “It’s very fun. I like all the guys so far. I’ve only really spent time with Bono, though.”
“No Edge?” Lina pouts. “Come on, he must know I’m his biggest fan by now. No more favors done for me? Not even another phone call?”
“I’ll see what I can do,” I reassure Lina, laughing.
“You’d act the same way about Bono if we switched places,” Lina mutters.
I don’t respond to that. She is absolutely correct. Though I’m not sure I’d like him half as much if we hadn’t spent so much time together…
“You can’t cheat on Herman for Edge, though. I’m still a free woman.”
“Oh…!” Lina exclaims, lost for words. “It’s not like we’re engaged or anything…”
Thank God you’re not, I think.
“How are things back in Rotterdam, anyway?”
She doesn’t respond for a moment, and then answers in a flat voice, “It’s all good. I went on a few dates and hung out with some friends. Everything’s just fine.”
“Enjoying my bed?” I ask, and then wish I hadn’t. It’s always hard to see what bait Lina will take about the bed this time…
She falls for the more likely and preferred one. “Technically, you know, it’s my bed.”
“But you said I could sleep in it for as long as I want. So now it’s mine.”
“Marieke, have you slept on that couch? You can’t blame me. I get so sore in the morning.”
“Of course I’ve slept there… for, oh, two years in fact…”
“There. You see my point. I suppose I’m never going to get you to go back to it.”
“Come on, Lina. I’ll only sleep on that thing if you keep sleeping with Herman in my bed.”
She sighs. “I miss you, Marieke.”
“I miss you too, Lina…”
“Keep in touch.” She disconnects the line.
I hop out of bed and take up my hairbrush. A knock on the door startles me at the first stroke.
“Coming,” I call in Dutch, forgetting myself, and open the door, the brush still in my hand.
Eric stands with a box in his arms. “Delivery for Miss Marieke.”
I let him come in and set the box on my floor. “Oof, that was heavy. How are you this morning?”
“Fine,” I say, sitting down next to the box. I don’t bother to tell him that he thought my inability to lift heavy objects was bad.“Where is this from?”
“Apparently the hotel in Oviedo sent it here,” Eric responds. “I don’t know what’s in it.”
“It was sent from Rotterdam,” I murmur, reading the sticker on top. “It’s from Lina.”
We meet each other’s eyes, and he asks, “Do you want me to leave?”
“Yes, please. Goodbye, Eric,” I call as he shuts the door behind him.
I take the box up in my arms and sit down on the bed. There are no tools in here to open a closed cardboard box with, so I use my fingernails. Finally it’s open, and my nails are noticeably shorter than they were when I woke up.
Lina has packed all my clothes and a few more necessities she thought I’d need. I notice that she hasn’t packed anything for entertainment, trusting that I would have a lot of fun on my own. How right she was!
I start to pull out some navy blue jeans, but stop when I catch sight of something purple beneath them. Mystified, I reach down into the box to pull out the purple item- and my fingers slide along satin. Wait…
I remove the mystery from its container. It’s a smooth, floor length purple dress, one I liked the look at in the shop but felt hideous when I wore it at home. Lina has stuck a Post-It to its surface- In case you meet anyone. I imagine her winking.
The dress is a joke, but suddenly it’s all I can think about. My figure wrapped in purple satin, surprising everyone in the room but most of all astonishing Bono… He wouldn’t be able to keep his eyes off me.
I dress for breakfast with care.
***
Eggs. It’s all Bono can think about at the moment. Eggs and water, and something without much flavor. If he tries hard enough, he can still taste the alcohol in his mouth, and that is not a pleasant thought.
After two helpings of awful hotel-made scrambled eggs and a glass of cold ice water, Bono feels somewhat like himself. The rest of the band is down here, none of them looking any worse for the wear. Bono suspects that maybe he did drink more than he thought last night.
And then she enters the room, and it’s heart-stopping.
I walk nervously in, knowing that all eyes are on me. The men lose their trains of thought and the women try to mask their frowns. I always knew I had a nice body, but this is a bit much. No wonder I never wore this dress again.
It appears that someone found an enormous roll of shiny purple ribbon and wrapped it very tightly around Marieke’s body, without taking care to loop the fabric over her pale creamy shoulders. She holds herself with confidence, and it’s all Bono can think about, all he can see. He’s afraid to blink, for fear that she might evaporate.
“Someone’s star-struck,” Adam stage-whispers.
“Shut up.” Bono frowns and blinks. Marieke doesn’t go away.
Oh God, he’s looking at me. At this very moment Bono is watching me with unwavering blue eyes. He looks like he just woke up, but even at his worst he’s so beautiful. My fingers twitch from wanting to get my hands on his hair and straighten it out. Seriously, it should be illegal all over the world for someone to be as sexy as he is now… I blink, startled, and manage to drag myself the rest of the way to his table.
Marieke takes a seat next to Bono, and he gives the girl a nod and asks, “How was your night?” in a voice that betrays no emotion. Followed closely by- “What era is this? An evening dress at breakfast?”
“I wanted to wear it,” I let him know. My voice doesn’t shake to give me away. I’m pleased. “It was a good night.”
“Surely better than mine. You only had one drink at the club,” Bono accuses Marieke. He suddenly feels a bit worried- if she was the only clear-headed person around, maybe she’ll know how many drinks he had. That is not a number he feels like hearing.
“I slept well,” I answer. Finally the word’s come out right- well instead of good. “I didn’t need any more to drink.”
A woman comes to serve us and tosses an angry glance my way, a glance that she covers up in a second by speaking sweetly in Spanish, asking me if I’d like juice or coffee.
“Juice,” I answer back, speaking my own Spanish version. She gives Bono a flirtatious smile which he ignores and pours my glass full.
“Where did you get that dress, anyway?” Bono asks. He knows she couldn’t have bought something like that yesterday.
“Lina sent it to me.” With some more clothes, granted, but I don’t want to clarify.
“It’s pretty… something.” Bono drinks out of his glass, eyes dancing across the skin of Marieke’s shoulders.
I smile, ducking my eyes downward, and take a sip from my own glass.
Bono has taken the bait- the very juicy piece of Dutch hotness sitting next to him. It makes me smile. Now that we’re both attracted to each other…
“Where are we going today?” I have to ask.
“You mean the next tour destination?”
“Is it in Spain?” I ask.
Bono corrects me- “No, we’re going to France this time. Spain is over now.”
France. I have heard all about that country and its wonders. Those of which include Paris, the beautiful city of blinding lights.
“Where in France are we going?”
“Em… Nantes, have you heard of it?”
I shake my head. I’ve only heard of Paris. But man, do I want to go there…
“I’m sure you will like France. I love it there; the people are so wonderful…” For a moment I hear a note in Bono’s voice that I’ve only ever heard it MacPhisto’s voice. It shocks me and I have to grip my juice glass even tighter to keep my cool.
Bono is suffering the same effects from one aspect of Marieke he hasn’t noticed before. When she wraps her hand around her glass, his eyes catch on the shiny bracelet tight on her wrist. Instantly his gaze travels up to her face, and she’s staring right back at him, her face flushed and her eyes wide. Those blue, blue eyes…
Then he shakes himself.
What am I thinking? I am a married man. I can’t go flirting with this woman.
“…Speaking of which, I must be going now…” he begins and pushes up from his seat. His mind must still be very muddled.
I blurt, “No…” but Bono’s already walking away. “And put on something sensible when you’re done eating!” he throws over his shoulder to me.
I sigh. So he didn’t like it. Who to talk to now? Adam is already getting up to follow Bono, but Edge is still here at the table, talking to Morleigh and someone else I don’t know that well. Before I start in on a conversation with them, my eyes spy Morleigh’s mass of curls. What…? Those can’t be natural, can they be?
“Hey, Morleigh?” I start, and they both turn to me. My face reddens, and I look down as I speak, feeling like I’m intruding. “I’m sorry… I just want to ask you a thing, please?”
“Yes?” Her voice is soft, calming me and telling me that I shouldn’t be embarrassed with only one word.
“Is your hair… it is like that normally?”
Edge laughs.
Morleigh shows her amusement by nothing more than a smile. “It’s naturally curly, if that’s what you’re asking. I do curl it a bit more for emphasis though. Do you like how it looks?”
“Oh yes,” I say, nodding. “I love it. Do you have a… a…” At a loss for words, I make a motion of running my fingers through my hair, pulling an imaginary iron through it.
“A hairbrush?”
I shake my head and say the word in my own language.
“A curling iron?”
That sounds right. “Yes, do you have a curling iron?”
“You want to try it out? I have one in my room.” Her smile won’t disappear. Edge decides to take this time to point out, “Why are you wearing that dress?”
“Oh… I got it from Holland in the morning…”
“You’re not trying to impress anyone, are you?” His hazel eyes chuckle at me
“No!” Although it is a lie.
“I think Eric was attracted,” Morleigh says with a nervous giggle.
I turn around in my seat and scan for Eric’s face. He’s not looking at me; instead he’s talking with some friends. Bemused, I turn back to Morleigh.
“Along with every other man in the room,” Edge finishes for her.
I laugh. “Not you!”
“Oh, he was too busy with me to notice,” Morleigh teases. “Who could bear to take their eyes off someone as beautiful as me to see you?”
My face falls. “Come on!” I groan in Dutch, forgetting myself again.
Morleigh’s smile falters, and her gaze is tentative, as she’s wondering what I said. Maybe she thought I swore at her.
“You sure attracted Bono if no one else,” Edge mutters.
I think back to that. Had I really done my deed? He had seemed excited when I first came down, but it kind of died off before he left.
Well, after Morleigh’s gotten to my hair I’ll know for sure what he thinks.
Speaking of which…
“Hey Marieke, what about that hair curler?” Edge brings it back up. “You still want that?” Now he throws a pointed look to Morleigh.
“Oh, yes please,” I answer. “Morleigh, can I have that… curling iron?”
She looks up. “Oh, of course…”
I smile and hold out my hand. “I’m not bad.”
She takes it reluctantly and shakes. “Do you want me to curl your hair for you?”
“That would be fine,” I tell her. Wait until Bono gets a load of this!
Edge starts suddenly, his eyes trailing Larry as the latter walks out of the room. “Uh-huh, I think it’s time for me to go.” He stands. “Goodbye, Morleigh, Marieke.”
Morleigh kisses his cheek. “Have fun!”
“Bye Edge,” I call as the last of U2 exits the room.
I face Morleigh again. She gives me a half-hearted smile. “Well now. Let’s go and get you prettied up.”
***
I don’t see him again until late at night. My magic has been definitely wrought on Eric so far- he hasn’t taken his eyes off me since I got on the plane to Nantes. I fiddle with a curl as I take my first steps into France. What will Bono think of this look?
In the lobby of our hotel, I have only one chance to catch him. I take it and run. Bono doesn’t see me coming until it’s too late and I am standing in front of him, purring a simple “Hello.”
Bono is sure his eyes would be bugging out of his head if it were possible. What has Marieke done with herself? The purple ribbon dress from this morning is gone now, but her hair is bouncing all over her shoulders in loose curls. They look very much like Morleigh’s.
Hm, Morleigh…
“Marieke! What… did you do to your hair?”
He seems absolutely taken aback. I am pleased with myself. Running my fingers through my new ringlets, I say, “Morleigh curled it for me,” and shake it out.
Bono has to stop staring. He doesn’t want to give Marieke any wrong impressions. But… God.
“I-em- I have to get going, I’m sorry,” he blurts and leaves her standing there as he rides up in the lift.
First there is nothing, but then comes the disappointment. I thought for sure Bono would take more notice of my new look than that. Maybe he didn’t like it…
As he rides up in the lift, Bono thinks that he most definitely DID like it. Oh, Marieke… is she flirting with him? It’s hard to tell, but how else to explain the dress at breakfast and this sudden hair-curling?
Suddenly he can’t wait to see his family again. Specifically Ali. How long must it be?
Downstairs in the lobby, Eric comes up. “Hey, Marieke,” he greets me. “We’re going out for dinner, do you want to join us?” I gaze behind myself and notice the group consists of just three crewmen, including Jack but not including the jerk-guy, which is what I've decided to call him since I can't remember his name..
“I might come,” I answer. Reluctantly I turn my back on the lift and shake off all feelings Bono. He doesn’t matter. On the other hand…
Eric matters right now. We catch each other’s eyes and he turns away from me, but I realize he’s still not over my new hair. It does strike me dead each time I see my reflection. I suppose for men the effect must be even worse.
“Eric, should I keep my hair curled?”
Eric gives the hair a once-over. “Well… yeah, if that’s what you want,” he shrugs.
I shrug back and allow him to open the door for me, even though I have nothing in my hands. My feet are on the ground and leading me away from the hotel, but my mind has followed Bono back upstairs. What is he doing now? Thinking about me?
I can’t wait for tomorrow to write the phone call.
***
“Hello, Bono.”
“Hey, Marieke. Are you doing okay?”
“Yes. Why would I not be doing okay?”
“Eh, just asking. All right, got any paper on you?”
“Yes, here's my pen too.Where do you want to call?”
“For France, I don’t want to try anything big yet. We’re going back here later on tour and I want to save some tricks for then.”
“So you will call… what?”
“A taxi. That one’s pretty simple. I’ve done it before as MacPhisto, you know, in Lisbon. I could even, in theory, use the same script.”
“Oh, don’t you want me? I’m here to help you.”
“Yes, Marieke, I will need you to spice it up a bit. What do you think would happen if I called a taxi?”
“Er… what was it in Lisbon?”
“They hung up on me.”
“Oh! I remember.”
A pause.
“If a person answers the phone right off, you should ask for what you want. Keep trying to get a taxi even if they say no. If they ask where you are…”
“I’m everywhere.”
“Oh!”
“There’s not a thing wrong with it. In a sense, the Devil is just as omnipresent as God. He- and I mean MacPhisto too- would naturally be everywhere.”
“But the person will want more to say than that. They don’t know you are MacPhisto.”
“So MacPhisto won’t explain himself. In fact, I assume he would be quite insulted if no one knew him!”
“You will get hung up on. That’s a warning.”
“Oh, that’s all right, it adds to the performance. Now, will you help me write this script?”
I don't think it's a rule that I HAVE to post a disclaimer, because you all know it never happened.
Bono lifts his heavy lids and takes one look at the room before groaning and letting his eyes close again.
Is there anyone next to me?
The bed is empty, all but for Bono’s warm body.
Thank God…
How late was he up last night- and how many drinks had he had? It’s pretty hard to remember everything. One thing’s for certain- the phone call that Marieke helped write was perfect. Bono remembers the crowd loving every second of it. He craves that feeling, the applause and the cheering. Audiences have strength in numbers.
I live to serve them.
Then there was the club. He knows he went out to party instead of out to the studio for the album. And Marieke was there… and they danced… and she was quite a good dancer at that…
Bono thinks that maybe she should sit in general admission sometime again. She is a fan after all… and maybe he could pull her up again.
Anyway, everything after the club is a blur, all up to falling asleep at the hotel and waking up feeling sick. Bono’s almost afraid to fully open his eyes- it might make the pounding in his head worse.
Why didn’t we go out to the studio?
He isn’t sure. The LP needs work, and instead of doing that work he had taken his friends out to party. What the hell? It’s about time to stop the crazy fun and focus on something serious.
But he doesn’t want to give it up. They’ve spent what, 13 years as a band, 6 years as a mega-group, and only two years as the stereotypical rockers? That’s not nearly enough time to fit in what all they’ve missed. However, if U2 continues to follow this direction, the joke will lose its flavor, to the point where it’s not even a joke anymore.
Okay, you can have… 7 more years of decadence, but as soon as the new century hits the party’s over. Bono grins wryly. He’s not even sure he wants to think that far ahead.
His eyes crack open, revealing a darkened hotel room with the blinds drawn. Bono lies in bed, blinking until his vision has properly adjusted. Then he slowly drags himself into a sitting position.
Ugh. What were those drinks spiked with?
Because there’s no way on Earth he could have drunk that much in one night… no, Bono knows better than that…
Thirst registers. Despite the quantity of drink consumed last night, Bono is parched. And, unsurprisingly, given the said amount of drink, really needs to pee.
So he gets up reluctantly and moves toward the bathroom connected to his suite. As he flips the light on and groans, the name hits him forcefully.
Marieke.
He ever so slowly removes his hand from his face, only letting one ray of light in at a time until he’s adjusted to it. His head throbs.
Dammit…
He doesn’t want to look in the mirror.
Eventually he must, though, while washing his hands. His hair’s a mess, tangled lumps or black strewn around his face. His eyes are reddened and can’t seem to focus correctly.
If Marieke could see this, she’d understand why Bono had seemed so tired at breakfast the two times she’d eaten with him.
And it flashes again in Bono’s mind.
Marieke.
What is it about that girl? She’s just a fan, isn’t she? A very charismatic fan, but a fan nonetheless. The type Bono flirts with every night onstage, and sometimes off. She’s just one of them.
She did do a good job writing the phone call, though. And she has a unique view of looking at the world.
Maybe I should let her come to one of the studio sessions.
Maybe. Let’s consider this further, after breakfast.
***
“I am a writer of the Devil’s speeches,” I tell Lina with a giggle, twisting the phone cord around my finger.
“Come again?”
“Well…” I relax and hang my head off the end of the bed, viewing my room upside down. “I was hired to help Bono write the phone calls from the stage every night. You know, for MacPhisto…?”
“Is that a job?” Lina asks, uncertainty peeking through her voice.
I shrug. “So far it’s working. I haven’t gotten paid for it, but maybe I will after I write a few more. Bono liked what I had last night, though.”
“Mmm…” Lina wants to move on. “So what’s it like hanging with your favorite band?”
“Our favorite band,” I correct her. “It’s very fun. I like all the guys so far. I’ve only really spent time with Bono, though.”
“No Edge?” Lina pouts. “Come on, he must know I’m his biggest fan by now. No more favors done for me? Not even another phone call?”
“I’ll see what I can do,” I reassure Lina, laughing.
“You’d act the same way about Bono if we switched places,” Lina mutters.
I don’t respond to that. She is absolutely correct. Though I’m not sure I’d like him half as much if we hadn’t spent so much time together…
“You can’t cheat on Herman for Edge, though. I’m still a free woman.”
“Oh…!” Lina exclaims, lost for words. “It’s not like we’re engaged or anything…”
Thank God you’re not, I think.
“How are things back in Rotterdam, anyway?”
She doesn’t respond for a moment, and then answers in a flat voice, “It’s all good. I went on a few dates and hung out with some friends. Everything’s just fine.”
“Enjoying my bed?” I ask, and then wish I hadn’t. It’s always hard to see what bait Lina will take about the bed this time…
She falls for the more likely and preferred one. “Technically, you know, it’s my bed.”
“But you said I could sleep in it for as long as I want. So now it’s mine.”
“Marieke, have you slept on that couch? You can’t blame me. I get so sore in the morning.”
“Of course I’ve slept there… for, oh, two years in fact…”
“There. You see my point. I suppose I’m never going to get you to go back to it.”
“Come on, Lina. I’ll only sleep on that thing if you keep sleeping with Herman in my bed.”
She sighs. “I miss you, Marieke.”
“I miss you too, Lina…”
“Keep in touch.” She disconnects the line.
I hop out of bed and take up my hairbrush. A knock on the door startles me at the first stroke.
“Coming,” I call in Dutch, forgetting myself, and open the door, the brush still in my hand.
Eric stands with a box in his arms. “Delivery for Miss Marieke.”
I let him come in and set the box on my floor. “Oof, that was heavy. How are you this morning?”
“Fine,” I say, sitting down next to the box. I don’t bother to tell him that he thought my inability to lift heavy objects was bad.“Where is this from?”
“Apparently the hotel in Oviedo sent it here,” Eric responds. “I don’t know what’s in it.”
“It was sent from Rotterdam,” I murmur, reading the sticker on top. “It’s from Lina.”
We meet each other’s eyes, and he asks, “Do you want me to leave?”
“Yes, please. Goodbye, Eric,” I call as he shuts the door behind him.
I take the box up in my arms and sit down on the bed. There are no tools in here to open a closed cardboard box with, so I use my fingernails. Finally it’s open, and my nails are noticeably shorter than they were when I woke up.
Lina has packed all my clothes and a few more necessities she thought I’d need. I notice that she hasn’t packed anything for entertainment, trusting that I would have a lot of fun on my own. How right she was!
I start to pull out some navy blue jeans, but stop when I catch sight of something purple beneath them. Mystified, I reach down into the box to pull out the purple item- and my fingers slide along satin. Wait…
I remove the mystery from its container. It’s a smooth, floor length purple dress, one I liked the look at in the shop but felt hideous when I wore it at home. Lina has stuck a Post-It to its surface- In case you meet anyone. I imagine her winking.
The dress is a joke, but suddenly it’s all I can think about. My figure wrapped in purple satin, surprising everyone in the room but most of all astonishing Bono… He wouldn’t be able to keep his eyes off me.
I dress for breakfast with care.
***
Eggs. It’s all Bono can think about at the moment. Eggs and water, and something without much flavor. If he tries hard enough, he can still taste the alcohol in his mouth, and that is not a pleasant thought.
After two helpings of awful hotel-made scrambled eggs and a glass of cold ice water, Bono feels somewhat like himself. The rest of the band is down here, none of them looking any worse for the wear. Bono suspects that maybe he did drink more than he thought last night.
And then she enters the room, and it’s heart-stopping.
I walk nervously in, knowing that all eyes are on me. The men lose their trains of thought and the women try to mask their frowns. I always knew I had a nice body, but this is a bit much. No wonder I never wore this dress again.
It appears that someone found an enormous roll of shiny purple ribbon and wrapped it very tightly around Marieke’s body, without taking care to loop the fabric over her pale creamy shoulders. She holds herself with confidence, and it’s all Bono can think about, all he can see. He’s afraid to blink, for fear that she might evaporate.
“Someone’s star-struck,” Adam stage-whispers.
“Shut up.” Bono frowns and blinks. Marieke doesn’t go away.
Oh God, he’s looking at me. At this very moment Bono is watching me with unwavering blue eyes. He looks like he just woke up, but even at his worst he’s so beautiful. My fingers twitch from wanting to get my hands on his hair and straighten it out. Seriously, it should be illegal all over the world for someone to be as sexy as he is now… I blink, startled, and manage to drag myself the rest of the way to his table.
Marieke takes a seat next to Bono, and he gives the girl a nod and asks, “How was your night?” in a voice that betrays no emotion. Followed closely by- “What era is this? An evening dress at breakfast?”
“I wanted to wear it,” I let him know. My voice doesn’t shake to give me away. I’m pleased. “It was a good night.”
“Surely better than mine. You only had one drink at the club,” Bono accuses Marieke. He suddenly feels a bit worried- if she was the only clear-headed person around, maybe she’ll know how many drinks he had. That is not a number he feels like hearing.
“I slept well,” I answer. Finally the word’s come out right- well instead of good. “I didn’t need any more to drink.”
A woman comes to serve us and tosses an angry glance my way, a glance that she covers up in a second by speaking sweetly in Spanish, asking me if I’d like juice or coffee.
“Juice,” I answer back, speaking my own Spanish version. She gives Bono a flirtatious smile which he ignores and pours my glass full.
“Where did you get that dress, anyway?” Bono asks. He knows she couldn’t have bought something like that yesterday.
“Lina sent it to me.” With some more clothes, granted, but I don’t want to clarify.
“It’s pretty… something.” Bono drinks out of his glass, eyes dancing across the skin of Marieke’s shoulders.
I smile, ducking my eyes downward, and take a sip from my own glass.
Bono has taken the bait- the very juicy piece of Dutch hotness sitting next to him. It makes me smile. Now that we’re both attracted to each other…
“Where are we going today?” I have to ask.
“You mean the next tour destination?”
“Is it in Spain?” I ask.
Bono corrects me- “No, we’re going to France this time. Spain is over now.”
France. I have heard all about that country and its wonders. Those of which include Paris, the beautiful city of blinding lights.
“Where in France are we going?”
“Em… Nantes, have you heard of it?”
I shake my head. I’ve only heard of Paris. But man, do I want to go there…
“I’m sure you will like France. I love it there; the people are so wonderful…” For a moment I hear a note in Bono’s voice that I’ve only ever heard it MacPhisto’s voice. It shocks me and I have to grip my juice glass even tighter to keep my cool.
Bono is suffering the same effects from one aspect of Marieke he hasn’t noticed before. When she wraps her hand around her glass, his eyes catch on the shiny bracelet tight on her wrist. Instantly his gaze travels up to her face, and she’s staring right back at him, her face flushed and her eyes wide. Those blue, blue eyes…
Then he shakes himself.
What am I thinking? I am a married man. I can’t go flirting with this woman.
“…Speaking of which, I must be going now…” he begins and pushes up from his seat. His mind must still be very muddled.
I blurt, “No…” but Bono’s already walking away. “And put on something sensible when you’re done eating!” he throws over his shoulder to me.
I sigh. So he didn’t like it. Who to talk to now? Adam is already getting up to follow Bono, but Edge is still here at the table, talking to Morleigh and someone else I don’t know that well. Before I start in on a conversation with them, my eyes spy Morleigh’s mass of curls. What…? Those can’t be natural, can they be?
“Hey, Morleigh?” I start, and they both turn to me. My face reddens, and I look down as I speak, feeling like I’m intruding. “I’m sorry… I just want to ask you a thing, please?”
“Yes?” Her voice is soft, calming me and telling me that I shouldn’t be embarrassed with only one word.
“Is your hair… it is like that normally?”
Edge laughs.
Morleigh shows her amusement by nothing more than a smile. “It’s naturally curly, if that’s what you’re asking. I do curl it a bit more for emphasis though. Do you like how it looks?”
“Oh yes,” I say, nodding. “I love it. Do you have a… a…” At a loss for words, I make a motion of running my fingers through my hair, pulling an imaginary iron through it.
“A hairbrush?”
I shake my head and say the word in my own language.
“A curling iron?”
That sounds right. “Yes, do you have a curling iron?”
“You want to try it out? I have one in my room.” Her smile won’t disappear. Edge decides to take this time to point out, “Why are you wearing that dress?”
“Oh… I got it from Holland in the morning…”
“You’re not trying to impress anyone, are you?” His hazel eyes chuckle at me
“No!” Although it is a lie.
“I think Eric was attracted,” Morleigh says with a nervous giggle.
I turn around in my seat and scan for Eric’s face. He’s not looking at me; instead he’s talking with some friends. Bemused, I turn back to Morleigh.
“Along with every other man in the room,” Edge finishes for her.
I laugh. “Not you!”
“Oh, he was too busy with me to notice,” Morleigh teases. “Who could bear to take their eyes off someone as beautiful as me to see you?”
My face falls. “Come on!” I groan in Dutch, forgetting myself again.
Morleigh’s smile falters, and her gaze is tentative, as she’s wondering what I said. Maybe she thought I swore at her.
“You sure attracted Bono if no one else,” Edge mutters.
I think back to that. Had I really done my deed? He had seemed excited when I first came down, but it kind of died off before he left.
Well, after Morleigh’s gotten to my hair I’ll know for sure what he thinks.
Speaking of which…
“Hey Marieke, what about that hair curler?” Edge brings it back up. “You still want that?” Now he throws a pointed look to Morleigh.
“Oh, yes please,” I answer. “Morleigh, can I have that… curling iron?”
She looks up. “Oh, of course…”
I smile and hold out my hand. “I’m not bad.”
She takes it reluctantly and shakes. “Do you want me to curl your hair for you?”
“That would be fine,” I tell her. Wait until Bono gets a load of this!
Edge starts suddenly, his eyes trailing Larry as the latter walks out of the room. “Uh-huh, I think it’s time for me to go.” He stands. “Goodbye, Morleigh, Marieke.”
Morleigh kisses his cheek. “Have fun!”
“Bye Edge,” I call as the last of U2 exits the room.
I face Morleigh again. She gives me a half-hearted smile. “Well now. Let’s go and get you prettied up.”
***
I don’t see him again until late at night. My magic has been definitely wrought on Eric so far- he hasn’t taken his eyes off me since I got on the plane to Nantes. I fiddle with a curl as I take my first steps into France. What will Bono think of this look?
In the lobby of our hotel, I have only one chance to catch him. I take it and run. Bono doesn’t see me coming until it’s too late and I am standing in front of him, purring a simple “Hello.”
Bono is sure his eyes would be bugging out of his head if it were possible. What has Marieke done with herself? The purple ribbon dress from this morning is gone now, but her hair is bouncing all over her shoulders in loose curls. They look very much like Morleigh’s.
Hm, Morleigh…
“Marieke! What… did you do to your hair?”
He seems absolutely taken aback. I am pleased with myself. Running my fingers through my new ringlets, I say, “Morleigh curled it for me,” and shake it out.
Bono has to stop staring. He doesn’t want to give Marieke any wrong impressions. But… God.
“I-em- I have to get going, I’m sorry,” he blurts and leaves her standing there as he rides up in the lift.
First there is nothing, but then comes the disappointment. I thought for sure Bono would take more notice of my new look than that. Maybe he didn’t like it…
As he rides up in the lift, Bono thinks that he most definitely DID like it. Oh, Marieke… is she flirting with him? It’s hard to tell, but how else to explain the dress at breakfast and this sudden hair-curling?
Suddenly he can’t wait to see his family again. Specifically Ali. How long must it be?
Downstairs in the lobby, Eric comes up. “Hey, Marieke,” he greets me. “We’re going out for dinner, do you want to join us?” I gaze behind myself and notice the group consists of just three crewmen, including Jack but not including the jerk-guy, which is what I've decided to call him since I can't remember his name..
“I might come,” I answer. Reluctantly I turn my back on the lift and shake off all feelings Bono. He doesn’t matter. On the other hand…
Eric matters right now. We catch each other’s eyes and he turns away from me, but I realize he’s still not over my new hair. It does strike me dead each time I see my reflection. I suppose for men the effect must be even worse.
“Eric, should I keep my hair curled?”
Eric gives the hair a once-over. “Well… yeah, if that’s what you want,” he shrugs.
I shrug back and allow him to open the door for me, even though I have nothing in my hands. My feet are on the ground and leading me away from the hotel, but my mind has followed Bono back upstairs. What is he doing now? Thinking about me?
I can’t wait for tomorrow to write the phone call.
***
“Hello, Bono.”
“Hey, Marieke. Are you doing okay?”
“Yes. Why would I not be doing okay?”
“Eh, just asking. All right, got any paper on you?”
“Yes, here's my pen too.Where do you want to call?”
“For France, I don’t want to try anything big yet. We’re going back here later on tour and I want to save some tricks for then.”
“So you will call… what?”
“A taxi. That one’s pretty simple. I’ve done it before as MacPhisto, you know, in Lisbon. I could even, in theory, use the same script.”
“Oh, don’t you want me? I’m here to help you.”
“Yes, Marieke, I will need you to spice it up a bit. What do you think would happen if I called a taxi?”
“Er… what was it in Lisbon?”
“They hung up on me.”
“Oh! I remember.”
A pause.
“If a person answers the phone right off, you should ask for what you want. Keep trying to get a taxi even if they say no. If they ask where you are…”
“I’m everywhere.”
“Oh!”
“There’s not a thing wrong with it. In a sense, the Devil is just as omnipresent as God. He- and I mean MacPhisto too- would naturally be everywhere.”
“But the person will want more to say than that. They don’t know you are MacPhisto.”
“So MacPhisto won’t explain himself. In fact, I assume he would be quite insulted if no one knew him!”
“You will get hung up on. That’s a warning.”
“Oh, that’s all right, it adds to the performance. Now, will you help me write this script?”
Now Bono's hungover and can't take his eyes off Marieke! Oh no 
