Sad_Girl
Blue Crack Supplier
A lot of the details of the Zoo TV tour have been/will be changed for the sake of the story. (For example, when Bono made the first phone call to the white house, his first appearance as Macphisto, when Adam and Edge cut their hair, and lots of other things) That’s why they call it fan FICTION 
Disclaimer: although this story is inspired by real people, it is completely fictional. None of it happened. Even the things which are based loosely off reality have been changed/altered for the sake of the storyline. Please don’t mistake any of this for reality or take it seriously – it’s written for the sake of fun and entertainment. No harm intended. There will be some foul / offensive language and adult themes READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION
No Secret At All
Chapter Seven
March 09, 1992
It wasn’t the first time Larry had found himself feeling alienated from his mates in the band. Hell, he’d felt alone most of his life. Still, he didn’t want to lose what he had with U2. It was as much of a family as his own; more in some ways, and he had no intention of letting go of his family without a fight. If, in this case, that meant stepping out from his comfort zone then that was what he would have to do. That was how he had ended up here in the first place, after all; and where he was in life was most certainly not a bad place.
He just had to remind himself of that more often these days.
As he returned to the table near the front of the club where the others were sitting, he was thinking about these things once again. It wasn’t that he wasn’t having fun, because he was. He loved to have some drinks and laughs with the others, and despite the uncomfortable parts of becoming a ‘celebrity’, it had its perks as well.
He just wasn’t all that comfortable with being seen at a club which was known primarily for its exotic dancers – So what if New York was raving over it? - High class as it was amongst other strip clubs, it was a strip club all the same. They were actually down in the private room below the main stage, relaxing after their show at Nassau Coliseum with mostly their own crew and friends, though the music and drinks were flowing as freely here as they were upstairs.
The club, ‘Glycerin’ as it was named, had become a hot spot for the rich and famous, partly because of its risqué’ nature but also partly because it had set a precedent with its shows; yes, they were sexy. The girls were a hybrid of different types of dancers – Vegas showgirls, the average, stereotypical pole-dancer, a private party strip show, and the genuine, widely accepted sort of entertainer you’d see on Broadway or even television.
The girls were trained, talented dancers who were not inhibited about their bodies or their sexuality. It was a sign of the changing times; people were opening their minds to a lot of things which American ‘polite society’ had swept under the rug for centuries.
In fact, they had just decided to contract Phil Joanou to cut a third video for ‘One’, in part because of public perception. They had been alright going along with Anton’s concept for the first video in Berlin; which was set in a brothel and had them all dressing in drag – but after everything was said and done it had occurred to them that it could be misinterpreted and become a backwards step for AIDS research. AIDS was not about sexuality, and as that reality was settling in to the public, the video could still seem to imply that. Especially with the proceeds all going to AIDS research; it was unfortunate, but realistic.
So, the very next night, after the show at the Spectrum in Philly, they were going to drive back here to New York City and film what would hopefully be the final video for the song ‘One’. Phil had been at the show with his 8 mm camera that night, and had been invited to join them but had opted to work on the footage he’d gotten for the video instead.
In light of all that, Larry would normally be planning on going back to the hotel by now, but he was trying to comply with the bands new approach. So, after a trip to the bathroom to get rid of the first few rounds, he went back to his seat. As he settled in, the lights in the room dimmed and then switched to a set of moving red lights that changed the atmosphere of the room dramatically. A voice came over the sound system, and everyone turned to look at a spotlight which was focused on the closed doors across the room from the table where U2 was seated.
“Making a special appearance in response to a request, I’d like you all to welcome the girls of ‘Glycerin’ – and our featured dancer ‘Roxy’!” The voice declared, and as the music began to spill out of the speakers, the doors swung open and half a dozen beautiful women in dramatic, skimpy costumes, strode in smiling as the crowd applauded.
Suddenly, another spotlight snapped on overhead and Larry blinked in surprise as his eyes tried to adjust. He heard the screech of the table legs against the tile floor and felt the movement as the others moved away from him, but when he tried to stand, Adam stood behind him and held him down, his unusually large hands holding firmly onto his shoulders.
He leaned down and told Larry, “Don’t fight it, man. It’s for your own good.” Larry scowled over his shoulder at his friend, his chest, growing tight with anxiety from the moment the spotlight snapped on, had started to actually ache with fear.
“What…?” he tried to ask, but the music changed, blaring to a level which made it barely possible to think. He glanced over at Bono and could barely hear him as he yelled for Larry to ‘take it like a man’. If Adam hadn’t been holding him there, Larry knew he would probably have fled – but he didn’t want to struggle with his friend, not here, under the spotlight as he was.
Directly across the room, a beautiful, slender blonde stepped into the room – the very way she walked demanded attention, and even the other dancers seemed to be forgotten. She was dressed in black leather; a black leather vest over a skimpy black lace bra, an ultra short black leather skirt over a black lace g-string, and a pair of thigh high boots with heels so high it would be a challenge for most to walk in them, let alone dance.
Her eyes were locked on Larry from the moment she stepped into the room and never once did she look away as she strutted through the crowd until she was, quite literally, on top of him. As the song ‘I hate myself for lovin’ you’ by Joan Jett blared through the speakers, the blonde beauty whom the announcer had called Roxy put on a show that was entertaining for everyone, but her attention was directed strictly on Larry. She did everything she could think of to turn him on; bending over in front of him and moving her hips in a motion that was flirty and almost more amusing than erotic, straddling his lap and throwing herself backwards, her legs clutching tightly around his hips and legs to hold herself in place, and even – to the crowds great amusement – sliding her fingers into his hair and pressing his face into the valley between her breasts.
By the time she strutted back out the door as the song ended, he was thoroughly rumpled, his hair, his clothes; and despite his embarrassment and vexation, he couldn’t wipe the grin off his face. He tried to be angry with Bono, but had to admit he was having fun. Besides, they hadn’t done it to embarrass him. At least, that wasn’t the only reason. They were trying to include him, to reach out to him, just as much as he was trying to them.
“It was all Edge’s idea,” Adam quipped as they returned the table to it’s original spot and settled back down at it. Edge let out a surprised laugh and shook his head. Katrina laughed too, as she sat on Adam’s lap sipping on her drink through a tiny straw. She was one of the only women in the room, but she didn’t seem to realize that – or if she did, she didn’t care.
She waved one of the waitresses over and asked them to deliver an invitation to Roxy to join them for a drink. Larry stood and excused himself, not sure he was ready to sit and drink with the stranger who had just stripped down to her g-string and rubbed herself all over him.
As he stepped out into the hallway, however, he found himself face to face with her. At a loss for words, he simply stood there dumbly blocking the door.
“I’m not refunding your money,” she finally told him, scowling prettily. Larry frowned at her, confused. “It wasn’t my fault I didn’t do it for you; I pulled out all of my best moves.”
“What? No! I mean, it was fine… I… it was… fine,” he mumbled, running a hand through his hair nervously.
“I don’t do anything extra on the side, either,” she told him defiantly. “I’m a dancer, not a hooker.”
“I didn’t think… I wasn’t…” Larry stammered, this encounter taking another unexpected turn. “I was just leaving,” he finally told her. It was her turn to be taken off-guard; her defenses had been up because she was ready for an unpleasant encounter with someone who wanted more of her than she was willing to sell. Larry’s apparent indifference left her stunned.
She stepped out of his way and he held the door for her as she went back into the bar room to join the others for a drink, each of them thinking that the other had the most beautiful, saddest eyes they had ever seen.
Disclaimer: although this story is inspired by real people, it is completely fictional. None of it happened. Even the things which are based loosely off reality have been changed/altered for the sake of the storyline. Please don’t mistake any of this for reality or take it seriously – it’s written for the sake of fun and entertainment. No harm intended. There will be some foul / offensive language and adult themes READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION
No Secret At All
Chapter Seven
March 09, 1992
It wasn’t the first time Larry had found himself feeling alienated from his mates in the band. Hell, he’d felt alone most of his life. Still, he didn’t want to lose what he had with U2. It was as much of a family as his own; more in some ways, and he had no intention of letting go of his family without a fight. If, in this case, that meant stepping out from his comfort zone then that was what he would have to do. That was how he had ended up here in the first place, after all; and where he was in life was most certainly not a bad place.
He just had to remind himself of that more often these days.
As he returned to the table near the front of the club where the others were sitting, he was thinking about these things once again. It wasn’t that he wasn’t having fun, because he was. He loved to have some drinks and laughs with the others, and despite the uncomfortable parts of becoming a ‘celebrity’, it had its perks as well.
He just wasn’t all that comfortable with being seen at a club which was known primarily for its exotic dancers – So what if New York was raving over it? - High class as it was amongst other strip clubs, it was a strip club all the same. They were actually down in the private room below the main stage, relaxing after their show at Nassau Coliseum with mostly their own crew and friends, though the music and drinks were flowing as freely here as they were upstairs.
The club, ‘Glycerin’ as it was named, had become a hot spot for the rich and famous, partly because of its risqué’ nature but also partly because it had set a precedent with its shows; yes, they were sexy. The girls were a hybrid of different types of dancers – Vegas showgirls, the average, stereotypical pole-dancer, a private party strip show, and the genuine, widely accepted sort of entertainer you’d see on Broadway or even television.
The girls were trained, talented dancers who were not inhibited about their bodies or their sexuality. It was a sign of the changing times; people were opening their minds to a lot of things which American ‘polite society’ had swept under the rug for centuries.
In fact, they had just decided to contract Phil Joanou to cut a third video for ‘One’, in part because of public perception. They had been alright going along with Anton’s concept for the first video in Berlin; which was set in a brothel and had them all dressing in drag – but after everything was said and done it had occurred to them that it could be misinterpreted and become a backwards step for AIDS research. AIDS was not about sexuality, and as that reality was settling in to the public, the video could still seem to imply that. Especially with the proceeds all going to AIDS research; it was unfortunate, but realistic.
So, the very next night, after the show at the Spectrum in Philly, they were going to drive back here to New York City and film what would hopefully be the final video for the song ‘One’. Phil had been at the show with his 8 mm camera that night, and had been invited to join them but had opted to work on the footage he’d gotten for the video instead.
In light of all that, Larry would normally be planning on going back to the hotel by now, but he was trying to comply with the bands new approach. So, after a trip to the bathroom to get rid of the first few rounds, he went back to his seat. As he settled in, the lights in the room dimmed and then switched to a set of moving red lights that changed the atmosphere of the room dramatically. A voice came over the sound system, and everyone turned to look at a spotlight which was focused on the closed doors across the room from the table where U2 was seated.
“Making a special appearance in response to a request, I’d like you all to welcome the girls of ‘Glycerin’ – and our featured dancer ‘Roxy’!” The voice declared, and as the music began to spill out of the speakers, the doors swung open and half a dozen beautiful women in dramatic, skimpy costumes, strode in smiling as the crowd applauded.
Suddenly, another spotlight snapped on overhead and Larry blinked in surprise as his eyes tried to adjust. He heard the screech of the table legs against the tile floor and felt the movement as the others moved away from him, but when he tried to stand, Adam stood behind him and held him down, his unusually large hands holding firmly onto his shoulders.
He leaned down and told Larry, “Don’t fight it, man. It’s for your own good.” Larry scowled over his shoulder at his friend, his chest, growing tight with anxiety from the moment the spotlight snapped on, had started to actually ache with fear.
“What…?” he tried to ask, but the music changed, blaring to a level which made it barely possible to think. He glanced over at Bono and could barely hear him as he yelled for Larry to ‘take it like a man’. If Adam hadn’t been holding him there, Larry knew he would probably have fled – but he didn’t want to struggle with his friend, not here, under the spotlight as he was.
Directly across the room, a beautiful, slender blonde stepped into the room – the very way she walked demanded attention, and even the other dancers seemed to be forgotten. She was dressed in black leather; a black leather vest over a skimpy black lace bra, an ultra short black leather skirt over a black lace g-string, and a pair of thigh high boots with heels so high it would be a challenge for most to walk in them, let alone dance.
Her eyes were locked on Larry from the moment she stepped into the room and never once did she look away as she strutted through the crowd until she was, quite literally, on top of him. As the song ‘I hate myself for lovin’ you’ by Joan Jett blared through the speakers, the blonde beauty whom the announcer had called Roxy put on a show that was entertaining for everyone, but her attention was directed strictly on Larry. She did everything she could think of to turn him on; bending over in front of him and moving her hips in a motion that was flirty and almost more amusing than erotic, straddling his lap and throwing herself backwards, her legs clutching tightly around his hips and legs to hold herself in place, and even – to the crowds great amusement – sliding her fingers into his hair and pressing his face into the valley between her breasts.
By the time she strutted back out the door as the song ended, he was thoroughly rumpled, his hair, his clothes; and despite his embarrassment and vexation, he couldn’t wipe the grin off his face. He tried to be angry with Bono, but had to admit he was having fun. Besides, they hadn’t done it to embarrass him. At least, that wasn’t the only reason. They were trying to include him, to reach out to him, just as much as he was trying to them.
“It was all Edge’s idea,” Adam quipped as they returned the table to it’s original spot and settled back down at it. Edge let out a surprised laugh and shook his head. Katrina laughed too, as she sat on Adam’s lap sipping on her drink through a tiny straw. She was one of the only women in the room, but she didn’t seem to realize that – or if she did, she didn’t care.
She waved one of the waitresses over and asked them to deliver an invitation to Roxy to join them for a drink. Larry stood and excused himself, not sure he was ready to sit and drink with the stranger who had just stripped down to her g-string and rubbed herself all over him.
As he stepped out into the hallway, however, he found himself face to face with her. At a loss for words, he simply stood there dumbly blocking the door.
“I’m not refunding your money,” she finally told him, scowling prettily. Larry frowned at her, confused. “It wasn’t my fault I didn’t do it for you; I pulled out all of my best moves.”
“What? No! I mean, it was fine… I… it was… fine,” he mumbled, running a hand through his hair nervously.
“I don’t do anything extra on the side, either,” she told him defiantly. “I’m a dancer, not a hooker.”
“I didn’t think… I wasn’t…” Larry stammered, this encounter taking another unexpected turn. “I was just leaving,” he finally told her. It was her turn to be taken off-guard; her defenses had been up because she was ready for an unpleasant encounter with someone who wanted more of her than she was willing to sell. Larry’s apparent indifference left her stunned.
She stepped out of his way and he held the door for her as she went back into the bar room to join the others for a drink, each of them thinking that the other had the most beautiful, saddest eyes they had ever seen.
interesting chapter !!!!!! thanks .
Well worth the wait! I am looking forward to more.
