London 14 August
“Patricia it’s 8.20.”
She stood, adjusted her tight red dress, stared a moment at the door and took a deep breath. She could feel the atmosphere building inside, the tingle that she always got when it was show time. A brief turn to look towards the corner before picking up the bottle of Jack Daniels. Opening the door to find Vanda awaiting her. Patricia smiled, but never spoke, just passed by and into the next dressing room.
“Well boys, let’s have a drink,” she said entering.
She took a large gulp, wiped her mouth and passed the bottle to her left. Five large gulps later it arrived back in in her hands. She held it high, glugged it quickly, then finished with the customary throw in the air. It shattered on the floor.
“It’s gonna be a good one. Let’s kick some ass.”
They filed out whooping in agreement.
The lights on the stage went off. An ear splitting cheer erupted from the crowd in front of the stage.
Patricia put on the necklace, her special silver necklace and walked towards the stage. Five steps up standing by the side of the stage. Another deep breath as she closed her eyes, an image of her father on stage flashed into her head whilst counting along to the intro tape. Ten down, eighty to go. She could taste the dry ice as she walked onto the stage. Eighty one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, Ninety.
“Good evening London. Please welcome The Scarlet Lady.” Boomed out from the PA
Flash, bang, as the flash bombs exploded, the heat from the flames that leapt in the air warmed her as the black curtain finally dropped. There she stood hands on hips, masked by the smoke as the opening chords to Temple of the Mind started the show. She opened her eyes and stared straight ahead.
Triumphant at last.
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