him as innocently as possible. He huffs and puffs a little but finally concedes.
His consent earns him a kiss on the cheek. “If I’d known you were going to do that, I would’ve turned my head and made you plant it square on my mouth,” he seductively chides me.
I playfully tell him to behave before adding, “Give me just a minute to change and we’ll get set up on the stage.” He nods and waits outside the dressing room door for me. I may have also forgot to mention to him that I’ll only be wearing a man’s button down shirt onstage.
Yeah, I definitely forgot to mention this little fact. When I open the door and casually say, “Come on, Luke,” he quickly grabs my arm and twirls me around to face him.
“Where the hell are the rest of your clothes?” He is literally growling the words at me. I mean, I’ve read about how men “growl” out a response, but I’m almost positive he’s about to turn into some kind of man-beast right in front of me.
“This is it – this is my costume.” My eyes are big and innocent, like I have no idea what he’s referring to. His eyes narrow to mere slits in his face, which by the way, has turned into a lovely shade of scarlet red due to the high volume of blood rushing for the top of his head.
“The hell you say! You are not going out there like this!”
“Yes, I am. This fits the scene, Luke.” I stay calm, knowing that yelling right now will only delay us getting the stage even more.
“Whose. Shirt. Is. That?” Each word is pointed, sharp and holds deeper meaning that he will even say out loud.
“Shane’s.” This answer visibly relaxes him for a split second.
“WHY THE HELL IS IT UNBUTTONED?” He’s just now realized this little fact.
“It’s not unbuttoned,” I start but his stance becomes increasingly menacing, “all the way. The last two are buttoned.”
He is about to go nuclear when Mitch saves me as he calls out, “Andi, you need to be onstage now.”
“OK!” I happily rush towards the back entrance to the stage and call over my shoulder, “Luke, put your mask on and get in position.”
Luke has no choice but to follow me now and he knows he has to be quiet because the previous performer isn’t quite finished yet. I take my place at the table with the wine and roses while Luke crouches down to hide behind the bed. When the curtains open and the music for my song starts, I’m transformed into another world and I forget all about Luke being pissed off about my lack of clothing.
The microphone is fit snugly over my ear so I can use both hands freely and move about the stage. I’m singing Familiar Taste of Poison , by Halestorm, tonight. Love is the familiar poison. The wine is a metaphor for love and her lover urges her to consume all of it, until she becomes consumed by him but apparently he doesn’t need her as much as she needs him.
The music starts off slow and ominous, but seductive and alluring at the same time. My voice is soft as the song starts. After the first couple of lines, I pick up the wine glass and empty wine bottle and move to the front of the stage as Luke stands up behind the bed, wearing all black and holding a long-handled sickle in one hand. I sing the next few lines of the first verse and begin the chorus.
As I sing, I sit on the floor of the stage and lay the empty wine bottle down beside me. I then take a small capsule filled with a white powder, break it open and pour it into the wineglass, as I finish the last line of the chorus. The music continues while I drink the wine with the imaginary poison in it. I put the glass down and stand back up, leaving the empty bottle and glass lying on the stage floor well in front of me and out of the way. Luke, playing the part of death, lays the sickle down, steps out from behind the bed and stealthily moves to the front of the stage, standing just behind me.
I look over my shoulder at Luke as I sing
His consent earns him a kiss on the cheek. “If I’d known you were going to do that, I would’ve turned my head and made you plant it square on my mouth,” he seductively chides me.
I playfully tell him to behave before adding, “Give me just a minute to change and we’ll get set up on the stage.” He nods and waits outside the dressing room door for me. I may have also forgot to mention to him that I’ll only be wearing a man’s button down shirt onstage.
Yeah, I definitely forgot to mention this little fact. When I open the door and casually say, “Come on, Luke,” he quickly grabs my arm and twirls me around to face him.
“Where the hell are the rest of your clothes?” He is literally growling the words at me. I mean, I’ve read about how men “growl” out a response, but I’m almost positive he’s about to turn into some kind of man-beast right in front of me.
“This is it – this is my costume.” My eyes are big and innocent, like I have no idea what he’s referring to. His eyes narrow to mere slits in his face, which by the way, has turned into a lovely shade of scarlet red due to the high volume of blood rushing for the top of his head.
“The hell you say! You are not going out there like this!”
“Yes, I am. This fits the scene, Luke.” I stay calm, knowing that yelling right now will only delay us getting the stage even more.
“Whose. Shirt. Is. That?” Each word is pointed, sharp and holds deeper meaning that he will even say out loud.
“Shane’s.” This answer visibly relaxes him for a split second.
“WHY THE HELL IS IT UNBUTTONED?” He’s just now realized this little fact.
“It’s not unbuttoned,” I start but his stance becomes increasingly menacing, “all the way. The last two are buttoned.”
He is about to go nuclear when Mitch saves me as he calls out, “Andi, you need to be onstage now.”
“OK!” I happily rush towards the back entrance to the stage and call over my shoulder, “Luke, put your mask on and get in position.”
Luke has no choice but to follow me now and he knows he has to be quiet because the previous performer isn’t quite finished yet. I take my place at the table with the wine and roses while Luke crouches down to hide behind the bed. When the curtains open and the music for my song starts, I’m transformed into another world and I forget all about Luke being pissed off about my lack of clothing.
The microphone is fit snugly over my ear so I can use both hands freely and move about the stage. I’m singing Familiar Taste of Poison , by Halestorm, tonight. Love is the familiar poison. The wine is a metaphor for love and her lover urges her to consume all of it, until she becomes consumed by him but apparently he doesn’t need her as much as she needs him.
The music starts off slow and ominous, but seductive and alluring at the same time. My voice is soft as the song starts. After the first couple of lines, I pick up the wine glass and empty wine bottle and move to the front of the stage as Luke stands up behind the bed, wearing all black and holding a long-handled sickle in one hand. I sing the next few lines of the first verse and begin the chorus.
As I sing, I sit on the floor of the stage and lay the empty wine bottle down beside me. I then take a small capsule filled with a white powder, break it open and pour it into the wineglass, as I finish the last line of the chorus. The music continues while I drink the wine with the imaginary poison in it. I put the glass down and stand back up, leaving the empty bottle and glass lying on the stage floor well in front of me and out of the way. Luke, playing the part of death, lays the sickle down, steps out from behind the bed and stealthily moves to the front of the stage, standing just behind me.
I look over my shoulder at Luke as I sing
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