Who: Esme Villette & Charles Davenport What: Charles is doin' the creep (hahhhhh). Where: Esme's dressing room backstage. When: 10 PMish, after the show on Tuesday, February 22. Warnings: Have you seen the movie? Don't believe what Disney tells you. That shit is not rated G, and neither is this.
By Esme's standards, tonight's show hadn't been spectacular. All told, it had been rather pedestrian, but then, it was just a Tuesday night. The club was half empty, the regulars weren't here, and tonight was just a night that everybody had to get through. But not Esme. She gave it her all like she did every night – she even did a test run of her new rendition of "Hellfire." A little earlier than she should've, maybe, but she needed to figure out the kinks before the big night. This performance was raw and honest, which was part of her signature, but it lacked confidence. Not acceptable.
Esme sighed and, closing her eyes, slipped beneath the water in her bathtub. After a less-than-perfect show, a nice, hot bath was the only thing that could calm her, but now that the water was almost cold, well, it wasn't really helping. There was a knot in her chest and her ears were ringing in the water; the longer she held her breath, the more frantic her thoughts became. She'd have to change some more of the lyrics, she'd changed the worst of them, but there were still some that didn't quite make sense with her singing it... Would that piss him off? Probably, but who cared, that was the whole point. And that interlude of "Heaven's Light" before the end, the lull before the big finish, she'd have to change that too, make it longer, tonight it flew by and no one...
Too long, too long – she couldn't breathe. Gasping, she surged upwards, gripping the sides of the tub for support. Nothing like almost drowning yourself to fuel creeping doubts. "It's not a disaster," she murmured to herself, brushing her wet hair back behind her ears and out of her face. "It's a challenge. A challenge."
And then, as if on cue, there was a knock at her door. She started, disturbing the water enough that it splashed over the side, and called out a panicked, "Come in!" ... And then remembered she was naked. She swore and scrambled out of the tub, grabbing her robe and throwing it on, then reaching for the closest towel to at least attempt to dry her soaking wet hair before her company joined her. She was still scrubbing frantically when the door opened, and unfortunately, the towel blocked her view of whoever came inside. "Little late for a visit, don't you think?"