Photographs
Written by Val
*PROLOGUE*
There's a few photographs of Steve Clark that seem to make their rounds on the
Internet every so often. By the clothing and the hair the pictures appear
they were taken during the Hysteria tour. What seems to drive people crazy
about them aside from the fact that Steve looks absolutely utterly gorgeous -
he's smiling and he's beautiful, stunning; in one shot in particular he's fairly
making love to his guitar, and the ravages from his drinking and other bad
habits that were beginning to show by that time appear to have temporarily
vanished - is that no one knows who took the pictures.
The photographs are obviously not simple snapshots taken by a fan. They
look professionally done yet weren't taken by the band's official photographer
nor can anyone come up with a name of another photographer who might have taken
the pictures. Because no one knows who to ask for permission, they're
usually not posted on any web sites, official or unofficial. I've met a
couple Webmasters in the online world I genuinely like and would love to tell
them it's all right for them to put up those pictures of Steve on their web
site, but then I haven't been willing to reveal the answers to all the questions
something like that would bring up.
~~~~~~~~~~~
*ONE*
I didn't have any photography work lined up for the day and I didn't have any
college classes that day either so by around
"
"Actually, no, in fact I don't have anything to do at all today."
"Want a quick job? Should be good money."
"What is it?"
"The band that's playing at the arena tonight - Def Leppard - you've heard
of them?"
"Yes, of them. I've seen their videos on MTV. And the radio
stations have been playing a lot of their music lately because of the
concert."
"Ok, it's a long story but what they need is some individual pictures of
Steve Clark, one of the guitar players, taken today."
"I thought a band like that would have their own photographer traveling
with them."
"Actually they do but, well, that's part of the long story, for now.
Later, if you want to hear about it, ok?
"Ok. Do they know I usually don't do people?"
"I know that but I told them you can do the job. And I know you
can."
"Andy! Ok, ok, so what do they want exactly?"
"Hang on, here's someone who's going to explain."
The next thing I knew a voice at the other end with a vaguely English accent was
rattling on about what kind of pictures were wanted. What I managed to get
out of it was they needed only two really good photos but wanted me to take
several involving different poses.
"I can do that. Where do you want me to go to do this job?"
There was a pause and Andy came back on the phone. "I was thinking
Steve could take a limo over to your place. I know you don't really have a
studio but you've got that that cool brick wall and then that other big plaster
divider wall in your living room that doesn’t look too different from the
backgrounds they were using here."
"Hmmm, what about hair and makeup, clothes ..."
"He was good to go here so he should be good to go when he gets there.
You might have to fluff up his hair or something. It looks like he's going
over in street clothes so he'll need to change when he gets there. Don't
worry. I think it will work out great and you will do just fine."
"All right. One more thing, do you think you could hold up the limo a
little bit? I need to take a shower and get my stuff here set up."
"No problem. Thanks for doing this. Talk to you later."
Such was the nature of a lot of my work at the time. A last minute call
from someone who knew someone who needed a photographer. It was true what
I had said about not doing people. My forte was buildings, architecture,
landscapes, and I was even on retainer with a couple local commercial real
estate companies. I also did things like
interiors, sometimes stills of motor vehicles, maybe the occasional nature
photography but for the most part nothing terribly animate, especially people.
Long story.
For some weird reason I was already bound and determined that I wasn't going to
be impressed by this rock star guy I had coming over to get his picture taken by
me. It wasn't that I didn't like rock music. Andy had turned me on
to a lot of cool bands like Led Zeppelin while I was living with him. But
for me it was strictly about the music, not how hot the guys in the band looked
or lusting after them or the whole rock and roll lifestyle outside of the music
for that matter.
Still, though, because of Andy's job he'd gotten me into some of the better
concerts that came to town and I'd had a really good time mainly enjoying seeing
and hearing the performers live. Andy usually offered to get me backstage
at most of the shows but I'd never been too interested in that sort of thing.
Once again, my "issues with people" and especially "crowds".
After I got out of the shower I blow dried my hair about halfway the way I
usually did so it would dry the rest of the way in its natural golden brown
waves that cascaded to just below my shoulders. I didn't bother with any
makeup except for a little mascara, which was also as usual for me.
I decided I probably shouldn't look like a complete unprofessional slob.
Instead of putting back on the sweats I'd been wearing earlier I put on some
decent jeans I had that were also very comfortable and a short sleeved striped
t-shirt top I knew I could work in.
Since I was home I automatically put on my fuzzy pink bunny slippers without
thinking because I didn't wear shoes indoors and that was what I wore when I was
home. Jeff, one of Andy's buddies and the owner of the building I lived in
had installed new central heat and air in each loft space when he remodeled the
building but my place still tended to feel drafty, especially on nippy days like
that one and the bunny slippers did a nice job of keeping my feet warm.
I had just barely gotten out all the equipment I figured I might need when my
doorbell rang. For one last time before I answered the door I told myself,
ok
*TWO*
I opened the my front door to a kinda tall really skinny looking guy with long
pale blonde hair, wearing dark sunglasses, a red leather jacket, plain white
t-shirt, and faded though not ragged jeans. He looked to be about the same
height as Andy who I knew was 5'10" and this guy was taking up about the
same amount of vertical space. In one hand he held a guitar case on which
I caught a glimpse of a Gibson nameplate, and on his other arm was a wardrobe
bag.
"Hi, I'm Steve Clark. I'm here to pose for some snaps."
Omigod, what an adorable English accent, I thought. Yeah, chicks dig that,
right? Ok, get a hold of yourself now.
"Hi, I'm
We walked to my living area and I said, "I'd like to get some Polaroid’s
of you first."
"Well, I'm supposed to be wearing these clothes I brought with me for the
pictures."
"Oh, I know that." I did? "I just want to get some um
..."
"Test shots?"
"Yes, some test shots first."
Steve put his things down on the floor and was about to remove his leather
jacket when I said, "No, leave that on for now." I directed him
to the long brick wall in my living area and had him do some rock and roll
attitude poses. Then I had him go to the divider wall to pose for some
more Polaroid’s. In the middle of my taking pictures at
the divider wall Steve suddenly broke into one of the most gorgeous smiles I'd
ever seen on a guy and began laughing. His face just totally lit up.
I realized he was looking at my feet and I looked down at the fuzzy pink bunnies
staring back up at me.
"Oh $#@!," I said, "I'm so in the habit of wearing these when I'm
home."
"That's all right luv. I don't mind if you want to be comfortable
while you work."
I took a couple more Polaroid’s then said to Steve, "Ok, why don't you go
change into your other clothes. There's a bathroom behind that door over
there across the room."
"Ah, do you mind if I have a smoke first?"
"Well, I have a non-smoking home so you'll have to do it in my patio,"
I replied as I pointed to a pair of French doors at the other end of the room.
"There's an ash tray on the small table out there."
Steve looked a little taken aback as if no one had ever said anything like that
to him about his smoking before. I was big on the anti-smoking thing and
didn't make any exceptions for anyone, no matter who they were. He simply
replied, "Thanks, luv,"
When he turned around and headed to the patio I saw his backside and what
immediately popped into my mind was a quote from a movie I'd seen with my friend
Liz a year or so before: "I refuse to date a man whose butt's smaller
than mine." I had to stifle a laugh but smiled a little though I'm
sure. I hoped he didn't see me doing that.
Well, he hadn't come over to take me out on a date; I was supposed to take some
photos of him as a favor, make some extra cash, and it didn't matter to me what
he looked like.
I slipped into my bedroom and changed from the bunny slippers to a pair of
slip-on black cloth t-strap shoes with rubber soles. Less distraction, I
thought. Then I went back out and looked at the Polaroid’s I'd taken
that were developing on my dining table. The first couple initially looked
all right but at second glance I felt bothered by them. It was his eyes.
In his eyes I could see what looked like a deep overwhelming sadness and after
everything I'd been through in my own recent history I felt like I knew where he
was at in his head right then and I almost cried.
Thing was, I'd just been through a phase where every time I observed someone who
seemed to be feeling sad or slightly off I'd tell them maybe they were depressed
and they should get some help - and drove almost everyone crazy on that behavior
alone. At that point I'd swung back in the opposite direction and I wasn't
about to tell some
rock star guy I barely knew he should go see a shrink. Anyway, maybe I was
just overreacting, projecting my own past experiences, maybe he was just a
little stressed out, tired, or perhaps even slightly hung over considering his
lifestyle and probably what he'd been doing for the past weeks or months of
being on a concert tour.
In the meantime, Steve had come back in from the patio, picked up his wardrobe
bag, and slipped into the bathroom.
I looked over the other pictures I'd taken, after Steve noticed my bunny
slippers, and they were much better. Mainly it was that wonderful smile
and even on just a Polaroid the guy was radiating charisma. I'm almost
embarrassed to admit it now but my initial
impression of Steve was I didn't view him as any sort of classically handsome
guy or even that good looking. But in those last couple Polaroid’s I'd
taken of him, with that smile, that laugh, he was absolutely beautiful.
Those things, I decided, were what I probably needed to bring out of him for the
upcoming photo session, to get the best pictures of him.
*THREE*
Steve emerged from the bathroom and at first glance I wasn't sure what to make
of his outfit. All right ... stage clothes, I thought. The black
boots with the chains were kind of cool and the tight charcoal pants were
probably suitable. But what was with the cut of that jacket - so short in
the back I could see the lower half of his back was bare which made me realize
he wasn't wearing a shirt, rather a long bright red scarf, the scarf actually I
liked, that wrapped around his neck a few times and hung down over his chest.
I guess that's the wardrobe I have to work with, I thought. The more I saw
that bare spot on his back though the more I couldn't help thinking it was
actually kind of sexy. Ok, let's get busy, I thought.
Then I caught something I should have noticed before but hadn't. His hair,
as far as for photographic purposes, was very flat and he obviously had no
makeup, again for photographic purposes, at all.
I sighed then said, "I was told your hair and makeup had already been done.
It looks like no one's done anything."
"Not really."
Ok Myra, keep on acting like you know what you're doing, I thought.
"Um, I need to do a couple things with your hair and some makeup, for the
pictures, ok?"
"It's all right luv, I understand. I've been through this
before."
Ok, so I lied a little about almost never doing people. I had done some
hair and makeup with Liz when we were in school, on the makeup crew for plays
and stuff. Once in awhile I did do people I knew, informally, and actually
I did own a small case of makeup and things for just maybe, when someone did
need touching up for a picture I was going to take.
I went and got my makeup case and also a large towel and a can of hair spray I
had around but seldom used. I decided to do Steve's hair first and placed
the towel over his chest and shoulders. I began brushing his hair out and
seriously I had no clue what I was doing but I did notice it seemed to start
fluffing up nicely so I brushed it a little more, went through his hair with my
fingers in an attempt to style it a bit then sprayed his hair lightly with the
hair spray before it fell flat again.
The makeup was an ultimate classic no makeup, makeup look as it should be on a
guy for photographs. I was doing all right until I got to the flesh tone
lip balm. What sexy lips ... On the inside I was close to losing my
cool. It was one thing doing makeup on someone I knew and had a good
comfort level with but working on this sexy man I hardly knew but was feeling
increasingly attracted to ...
When I finished with Steve's hair and makeup I said, "Let's go back to the
brick wall over there."
Steve complied and I first took a couple more Polaroid’s to see how everything
looked then had Steve go to the divider wall for a few more. After
scrutinizing the new Polaroid’s I said, "I think the divider wall is
going to work out best for the background." But I'd noticed there was
something slightly off about all the pictures, his eyes. They were sad
again. I felt I in good conscience could not and would not produce
pictures with him looking that way.
Once I had my camera and tripod set up to take pictures in front of the divider
wall I completely out of the blue told a corny old joke. To this day I can
not say which joke I used. At the time I had a repertoire of about four or
five corny jokes I would tell provided I thought I hadn't already told it to the
person I was telling it to. Of course I would get the usual moans and
groans but most importantly Andy always would encourage me anyway because he saw
my returning off the wall sense of humor as a sign that I was getting well.
Steve flashed that gorgeous smile again and burst out laughing. He was
probably laughing at me more for trying to tell a corny joke than the joke
itself. I knew that what I was doing, if he was nearly as sad as I'd
gotten the impression of, was just a band aid (Yes, I was a band aid!) but I was
getting the effect from him that I desired for the short term. I proceeded
to get some shots of Steve on his own, laughing and smiling.
Next I said, "I was told to get some pictures of you with your guitar so
why don't you get it out now."
"No problem, luv."
Steve opened up the guitar case and took out a black and white guitar. To
my eyes the guitar seemed to go well with what he was wearing though I'm sure
that wasn't his original intent when he got it or played it.
I took a variety of shots of Steve and his guitar, first standing and holding it
different ways. Then I got a wooden stool from my kitchen and had him sit
down and do a few different sitting with the guitar poses. Sometimes I
would tell him what to do and sometimes he'd just get into a pose that I would
like and take a couple pictures of.
Then I said, "Um, I know you're not plugged in but could you play your
guitar? I'd like to get some pictures of you playing the guitar."
"I can do that. I've faked it for the videos and other pictures.
I can do it for you too."
Steve had managed to retain the good mood I'd gotten him into but seemed to
brighten up even more at my suggestion to play his guitar. I took my
camera off the tripod sensing I might need the mobility for the next set of
photos. Steve immediately began playing and even though what came out was
that tinny sound an unplugged guitar has, I could see he was putting his heart
into the playing. I'd seen Andy do the same sort of thing on his guitar
when it was late at night and didn't want to disturb the neighbors or he was in
a hurry to figure or work something out which was how I knew in the first place
it could be done.
When Steve began playing his guitar was the first time I really noticed his
hands, large strong hands with long fingers that flew over the strings with
wonderful precision. His hands looked as if they had been made to play the
guitar. At that moment I felt like those hands were the most beautiful
things I'd ever seen in my life, next to his smile.
At first I stood there awestruck. Although Steve's guitar sound was
unplugged and tinny sounding, the way he played, the way he moved around in
front of the divider wall, was like nothing I had ever seen before. Yet,
there was something slightly familiar about it, make an influence or two.
I'd have to ask Andy about that later on.
Coming back down to earth I realized I needed to quit gawking and start taking
some pictures. I began clicking away until I had gone through an entire
roll of film.
"All right, let's do a few more with just you again, some rock and roll
attitude, you know?"
"Sure, luv,"
I put another roll in my camera then placed it back on the tripod. I
looked through my view finder then looked back up again and said, "I need
to straighten up your scarf a little bit." I have no idea what got
into me to actually come out and say and do that. I felt like I was
bordering on being unprofessional. The truth was the scarf still looked
all right, could have gotten by for the last few photos I was going to take but
I got this irresistible urge that normally doesn't happen with me.
Then I found out Steve's scarf was more complicated than I thought.
Instead of just being wrapped around his neck once or twice and hanging long it
was actually wrapped around multiple times in long lengths in both front and the
back. Acting like I still knew what I was doing I settled for fluffing up
the front of the scarf and rearranging the ends as if I was going for some sort
of better composition. Steve was watching me with amusement. I
couldn't quite look him in the eyes not because I'd lied a little about his
scarf needing straightening but because I felt if I did look right into those
beautiful blue eyes I'd get weak in the knees and fall over. But then I
did look, and we stared at each other for what seemed like a long time but was
probably a split second then I returned to my all business persona, went back to
my camera, and took the last few pictures.
*FOUR*
"I guess we're finished," I said.
"Good. No offense, I don't completely mind posing for photos but
there is other things I'd rather be doing. By the way, who's the bloke at
the arena that sent me over here, your boyfriend?"
"Andy? No, he's my cousin. Actually he's like the big brother I
never had but would have wanted."
"Do you have any brothers or sisters?"
"No just me."
"Are your parents still around?"
"Yeah, they're around ... but not for me ... never mind, sorry."
For an instant Steve gave me an odd look that I couldn't read but instead
replied, "Phil and Joe, two of my band mates are on lies too. The
rest of us are like the brothers they never had." He shook his head and
laughed.
"How about you?" I asked.
"I have two younger brothers."
"Oh, so you're the oldest. Well, they're sort of like onlies ...
except they've got siblings! Then I burst out laughing and Steve flashed
that great grin. "I must sound silly!" I said.
"No you don't. Actually I think you're right. Ah, do you mind
if I borrow your patio for a smoke again?"
"No, go ahead."
I busied myself with putting my photographic equipment away and taking the rolls
of film to my dark room, which actually was meant to be the spare bedroom in my
unit but I converted into my 24-7 darkroom.
Steve came back inside then headed to the bathroom and changed back into his
street clothes. I assumed he was going to simply say a few polite words to
me and leave. Instead he stood in the middle of my living area looking
like he was deep in thought.
"What's up?" I asked.
"Oh, I'm just trying to figure out what I'm going to do for lunch. I
could go back to the hotel and order room service but ... a lot of people, my
mates in the band, the crew, have been on my case lately about a lot of things.
I don't feel like going back and having to face that rubbish, not now. But
I also don't feel like going somewhere public, by myself, either and having to
deal with people who might recognize me. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate
the fans and everything but."
"I think I know what you're trying to say. Look, I'm not about to
cook for you but there is a Chinese place near here that delivers. Yeah,
quite the thing now but... well, we've got the Chinese place. I order from
them once in awhile and they're pretty good. I could order some stuff for
us and we'll eat here."
"Really? I like that idea, luv. I'd appreciate it."
I called the Chinese place and put in an order. Then I said to Steve,
"Would you like something to drink while we're waiting for the food?"
"Sure luv. I don't imagine you'd have any vodka, though I shouldn't
right now anyway. Do you have any beer? Or what do you have? I
shouldn't sound so choosy, being your guest."
"Actually I do have some beer in the fridge. Normally I don't but I
had a little get together with some friends last weekend. We watched some
videos, ordered some pizza, and for some reason my cousin Andy decided having
imported beer with the pizza was a brilliant idea. He brought over a whole
case and we ended up with some left over."
"That's fine."
I should have gotten some milk or water or even a soda to drink at that time of
day but thought what the hey and got a bottle of beer for myself too. It's
one of those things I still find myself kicking myself over even though it
seemed like such an innocent thing at the time and it probably was. When
I'm down and think about that I feel like maybe the beer we drank that afternoon
took him that much closer to ultimate demise but then I have to convince myself
that it didn't and that what happened to him a few years later wasn't my fault.
When I came back from the kitchen with the beer I saw Steve standing at my
stereo examining my "Synchronicity" album which he was holding in his
hands.
"This is one of my favorite albums," he commented.
"Oh, yeah, I was playing it the other night. I don't know why.
Just hadn't played it for awhile and remembered how much I like it myself."
"Would you mind playing it? I didn't bring a copy with me on the tour
and I haven't heard it in awhile."
"Sure."
Steve and I sat down together on my couch and I guess because I'd mentioned
watching videos the previous weekend we ended up talking about movies we liked
and he told me all about how he liked Peter Sellers and I said he'd made a
couple movies that I'd enjoyed too. The difference was Steve thought the
Inspector Clouseau movies were really funny and I liked some of the other
characters Peter Sellers had played better.
*FIVE*
I heard a knock at the door and assumed it was the delivery driver from the
Chinese place. I got up to answer and Steve stayed seated on the couch.
After opening the door and getting a dollar total from the delivery driver Steve
still hadn't made a move from the couch. I turned my head in his direction
and said, "Do you think I'm paying for all this?" Sheepishly he
got up and ended up giving the delivery guy a twenty dollar bill and told him to
keep the change which was a more than generous tip. I had to fee lsome
admiration for the guy being a decent tipper in the end.
After putting the food on my dining table I went to the kitchen and got some
dishes and utensils in addition to two more bottles of beer. I realize a
lot of people eat Chinese food right out of the carton but I was weird and
didn't and didn't think about that. Instead of sitting across from me
Steve sat down at the end of the table adjacent to me and we were actually
sitting fairly close together. I was feeling that chemistry thing going on
again but tried to concentrate on eating.
We wound up doing a little more talking than eating. We chatted some more
about movies then got into talking about music. It turned out he liked
most of the same bands I did, especially Led Zeppelin and Queen. Actually
the bands Steve and I had in common were all bands Andy had gotten me into while
I was living with him. I got to thinking that Steve and Andy would
probably hit if off pretty well if they ever met. Then I thought, wait, if
Steve lived in the same town I did I'd like to hang out with him myself. I
still wasn't quite on the same page as considering serious romantic
relationships with people in my life. All I wanted then or thought I
needed out of people was a few good friends I could trust, who I had things in
common with, who were there for me and of course I was there for them.
Steve seemed like such a genuinely sweet and nice person and he made me laugh.
At that time it went a long way in my book.
Steve told me a little more about himself, pretty much all the stuff one would
read now in a mini-bio on him but it was all new to me then and I was curious.
He asked me about Andy and my family again, seeming genuinely interested.
I managed to explain that I'd had some "family problems" with my
parents and it ended up being better for all and working out living with Andy.
When I began making enough money from my photography to pay my own rent and
bills, Andy helped me get my own place via a good deal with his friend Jeff who
had just finished remodeling an old two story factory building into loft
apartments, the place Steve and I were now sitting inside of. I wasn't
about to go into detail on the dreadful things that happened to me, not then.
I noticed Steve looking around my apartment from where he was sitting.
"You don't seem to have any of your work displayed here," he
commented.
"Huh?"
"You're a photographer. I would think you would have some of your
pictures hanging up on the walls, or around here, in picture frames."
"Oh, in the first place I haven't been living in this apartment very long
and I haven't had much of a chance to work on putting stuff up on the walls.
Well, there is one ... over there by the patio doors."
I pointed to a large framed print by the patio doors of a foot bridge over a
pond that was in a local park, pretty much a typical looking nature scene but I
was pleased with it nevertheless.
"That's one of mine. The County Park System put out an information
brochure about all the County parks and I took most of the pictures that appear
in it. That on is on the front of the brochure."
"Very nice. So your work is sort of famous around here?"
"I guess in a way. Actually I do mostly, um, commercial photography,
not the sort of things you want to have hanging on the walls in your home."
"Do you do any kind of art photography?"
"I did ... in the past. Not lately."
"You should. I bet you'd be good at it. It's a nice outlet, way
to express yourself too."
"Maybe I will."
I noticed that Steve really hadn't eaten that much. He'd mostly picked at
the food but didn't have too much trouble with the beer though. Again, I
didn't make much of that at the time.
When we were both finished with eating Steve immediately got up and went to my
patio to smoke another cigarette. I cleaned off my dining table then sat
down on my couch and waited for Steve to come back inside. I figured that
this time he would likely leave.
Instead he sat down on the couch next to me and said, "Thanks for doing
lunch like this with me. I appreciate it."
"You're welcome. I enjoyed the company."
"You're a nice person," he said.
"Thank you. You're an easy person to be nice to.
His face reddened slightly and he looked downward, seeming almost a little
embarrassed by my comment. I couldn't figure out why. It was almost
as if no one had been saying anything complimentary to him lately and I couldn't
understand that either.
Steve looked back up again, staring at me with those incredible beautiful blue
eyes. I stared back. I had a feeling like he was waiting for me to
let him know that what he was thinking about, wanting to do was all right.
I leaned over toward him slightly then he leaned toward me and we were kissing,
a little tentatively at first but then much deeper. It wasn't long before
we were making out with each other on my couch. I'd forgotten everything
about my thinking I wasn't ready for any physical attraction type activities.
I was enjoying this!
He was trying to undo some of my clothes then stopped for a second and looked at
me with those blue eyes almost as if he was asking for permission.
"It's ok," I said. "Believe me, if it wasn't ok, I would
let you know."
"Is there someplace more comfortable we can go?" he asked.
"This way," I replied and we stood up and I led him to my bedroom.
*SIX*
Standing there in my bedroom with
Steve it suddenly hit me what we were doing or about to do.
"Steve, I don't normally ... I mean I'm not ..." I began.
Putting a finger up to my lips Steve replied, "I know luv. I know
what you're not. And I know what you are." Something seemed to occur
to him and he asked, "Do I need to use a rubber, luv?"
I said softly, "I'm on the pill but yeah, do what you feel is right."
Steve's lips met mine as I unbuckled his belt then unbuttoned his jeans. I
broke away from the kiss and was beginning to kneel down when Steve placed a
hand under my chin and stopped me. Looking into my eyes with his own
midnight blue eyes he said, "No, not like that, I want to have you."
Thinking back on moment later on it struck me that maybe Steve didn't want to
feel like he was merely being serviced by just another groupie blowing him but
wanted to take me as a man taking a woman.
Steve removed my top, my bra, jeans and panties and allowed all the items of
clothing to drop to the floor once they were freed from my body. He led me
over to my bed and guided me down onto the mattress until I was flat on my back.
Turning away slightly, Steve finished undressing himself as I watched. His
bare skin appeared to be almost as pale as his hair. With his clothes off
it was even more apparent how painfully thin he was yet I still saw a beauty
about him, in him.
Steve hovered over me and caressed me with his big strong hands saying,
"You're so soft ..." as if my skin was the most wondrous thing in the
world to him.
Somehow we didn't get into too much foreplay. I think at that point we
were just too hungry for each other and wanted to get to the point. After
he entered me what we did was pretty basic yet quite wonderful. He felt so
good. I didn't want to stop but once we had obviously given each other
mutual satisfaction that was what we had to do, conclude things.
Again Steve surprised me. I expected him to immediately get up, get
dressed, and head back out to my patio to smoke another cigarette, the typical
thing. Instead he wrapped his arms around me and held me tightly, gave me
his affection. I couldn't help feeling like he actually cared about me and
even though I was telling myself inside he probably didn't, I mean, he hardly
even knew me, I allowed myself to bask in the moment anyway.
We dozed off together. When I awoke and checked the clock radio next to my
bed I noted we'd napped for only about twenty minutes. I glanced over at
Steve and his blue eyes were open, like he woke up at exactly the same time I
did. He didn't seem too concerned about anything right then.
However, I couldn't help noting the next look on his face and feeling like I was
reading his mind. "You want to have a cigarette, don't you?"
I asked.
He looked at me as if he almost felt badly about that and we both burst out
laughing. "Go ahead, to the patio!" I said.
Steve got dressed and went outside to smoke his cigarette. When he came
back inside he said what I'd been expecting all along and this time sort of
dreaded.
"I better get going. I have to make the sound check and rehearsal for
tonight."
"Well, I have to develop the pictures I took. The people who asked me
to take them seemed to be needed in a hurry. I'll call a taxi for
you."
While we waited for the taxi we sat down on my couch and talked a little while
more.
Steve said, "Thank you again,
"It was very nice meeting you."
"Are you going to the concert tonight?" he asked me.
"My cousin gave me a ticket for a nosebleed seat and said he'd try to get
me a better place to sit if I showed. I don't know. I guess to put
it politely I've got issues with crowds."
Steve smiled and looked down, back to being all shy again. "I'd like
it if you did come see the show. I can't make any promises about seeing
you or anything like that but. just knowing you were there ."
"I'll see what I can do. I'll try."
I glanced out the window and saw Steve's taxi pull up. We shared a last
long passionate kiss then he was out the door and gone. Standing alone in
my quiet living room I was feeling like I must have imagined everything that had
just happened.
*SEVEN*
I gathered the rolls of film I'd taken that afternoon and went into my darkroom.
Most of the pictures of Steve came out very well. I couldn't help stopping
and just staring at the photographs. Those beautiful blue eyes, the way
his smile lit up his face and seemingly everything around him, he was so
absolutely beautiful. I did these? It was more like I'd been lucky
enough to be the one to capture these moments.
I still hadn't heard back from the people who wanted the pictures of Steve done
in the first place. I left the photos in my dark room and went back out to
my living room, contemplating what I might do with the rest of my day.
After a little mental preparation and psyching myself out I did decide to go to
the concert. I dressed casually, in an attempt to sort of disappear into
the crowd, in classic jeans, a French cut striped t-top and white sneakers.
I really didn't get these chicks who wore spiked heels with jeans. I
wasn't feeling a need to look sexy. I wanted to feel as comfortable as I
could be in a crowded arena.
Def Leppard had just taken the stage when Andy found me in my nosebleed seat and
led me to an empty single seat he'd spotted toward the front of the first level
up from the floor. Andy also handed me an all access backstage pass.
"This is a real backstage pass," Andy explained to me, "not one
of those rude groupie passes. You'll be ok with this pass."
"Rude groupie passes?"
"Long story. I'll explain later."
It seemed Andy was acquiring a backlog of long stories to explain to me later
on, probably over the rest of the beer at my apartment, I couldn't help
thinking.
The seat Andy had found for me happened to face the corner of the stage where
Steve spent the most time playing and really seeing and hearing him play the
guitar for the first time I was completely awestruck. It felt like a
revelation. I didn't think he could see me from where he was on stage and
I just sort of assumed he couldn't, knowing a little bit about stage lighting
from school, the way the bright lights kind of blinded a person and you could
look out at the audience like you saw them but actually you didn't.
I think it's more or less in the history books how the Def Leppard "In The
Round" concerts went down and how great they were. The one at Wilson
Arena that night was no exception. It's still one of the best concerts I
ever witnessed. In spite of my skittishness in crowds, and partly because
of Andy's connections, I've seen a lot of concerts at that arena too.
After the concert ended I spent probably more time than I should have and as it
turned out I didn't need to but I went looking for Andy, which ended up taking
me awhile, and asked if he could get me to the backstage area because I simply
had no clue about that sort of thing. I guess he'd assumed I would get
there on my own but knowing how I was and being kindly tolerant as he always was
with me he walked me to the backstage area and waited until one of the security
guards working that area checked out my pass and let me by.
Insane is the only way I can describe the backstage area. People
everywhere going crazy, way more people that I could usually deal with but I
kept pressing on. Some of the guys from the band were standing in the
hallway doing a meet and greet with some fans but I didn't see Steve anywhere in
sight.
I noticed the singer doing what looked to me like sort of giving me the eye.
At that point I still didn't have all the names down of the guys in the band and
in my head went by what instrument they played or what they did.
The bass player walked up to me and asked in a thick English accent something
like, "Are you looking for someone?"
"Yes, I was looking for Steve. Do you know where he is?"
"He's probably in one of the rooms back there," he replied, vaguely
pointing to a backstage area that was even further back.
"Thank you," I replied.
"If you can't find him come back and get me and I'll help you."
"Ok," I said. Whatever, I was thinking. Later on when I
told people about that they seemed convinced that Rick Savage was trying to make
a pass at me but I still don't think so.
I noticed that people with passes trying to go beyond a certain point were being
turned back. I figured I would too but went anyway and surprisingly the
security guard took one look at my pass, smiled, and waved me by.
I walked by the drummer who was looking like he was already getting pretty cozy
with someone. I got a look at her and she didn't seem to be anyone I'd
ever seen around town or even like someone who lived in town in the first place.
She might have been his girlfriend, I don't know.
I came across a room where a bunch of people associated with the band seemed to
be congregating, no one I knew, no one who said anything to me. Then I
spotted Steve back in a corner by himself sitting on one of the couches that
were scattered about the room. In one hand he had a large red plastic cup
that looked like it was filled with ice water but probably had been vodka, and
in his other hand was a cigarette. A bottle of vodka was on the table next
to the couch. He somehow didn't seem to be himself, at least not the guy
I'd just spent the afternoon with. But as soon as he saw me he smiled and
said,
"Yes. I'm glad I made the trip. I just loved the show and you,
you are fantastic playing the guitar. I didn't know that. Well, I
have to admit I didn't know very much about you at all until ..."
"Sit down, luv, right here" he invited me as he patted a spot on the
couch. I sat next to him, he placed his drink down on the adjoining table
and even put his cigarette out, which kind of surprised me.
As if he was suddenly remembering his manners he asked me, "Would you like
something to drink, luv?"
"I guess I could have what you're having. I don't mind sharing."
I don't know why but I had it in my head that I didn't want him leaving me alone
while getting me something to drink. He handed me his red plastic cut and
without thinking what it might contain, took a couple big gulps. All I
could figure out was the drink was something containing alcohol and it was
pretty strong.
A few seconds later I saw the singer walk into the room and when he saw me once
again he seemed to give me the eye. He sauntered over to the couch where
Steve and I were sitting and said, "Eh Steve, who's the pretty lass?"
"This is
"Well now I understand why you were late for the sound check," Joe
commented. "Don't make it another bad habit of yours though."
That instantly had me feeling a little guilty, that I'd made Steve late for one
of his professional obligations.
"Oh fuck off you wanker," Steve replied and seeming to send a message
to Joe he put his arm around me in almost, I sensed, a possessive way.
"I'll catch you later," Joe said and walked away.
Before Steve and I had a chance to say anything to each other the second lead
guitar player, a cute, kind of impish looking guy with wispy blond hair walked
up to us and said, "You think the wife would approve of this?"
I'm sure my eyes must have bugged out at that comment, something that hadn't
crossed my mind, and I turned and looked directly at Steve.
"Bloody hell, Phil. You're the one with the girlfriend. I am
NOT married and I DON'T have a wife. Now fuck off," Steve said then
he quickly turned back to me and said, "Sorry about that luv."
After Phil disappeared I guessed what might be going on and I said to Steve,
"But you do have someone in your life? Who's not here right
now?"
"
That was what we ended up doing, talking with each other for awhile. I
think the strong drink we were sharing kind of went to my head pretty fast
because unfortunately I can't remember most of the conversation we had.
The other blonde guitar player came back several minutes later and said to
Steve, "You better get your things together and come out to the busses.
We're not staying in town. We're leaving tonight, remember?"
"Shit!" Steve said out loud and he slammed his fist down on the arm of
the couch. Remembering I was sitting there next to him he turned to me
said, "I'm sorry luv. For all the swearing. I shouldn't be
swearing so much in front of a lady and you are a lady. It's just that I
was thinking we'd be able to spend some more time together and as it turns out
we can't. I'm so sorry luv."
"Me too," I replied softly.
"Come on, why don't you walk out with me."
Steve and I got up from the couch and he put his right arm around me, resting
his hand over on my right hip. As we passed a table full of beverages,
what was left, I noticed he picked up a bottle of vodka. About all I made
of it at the time was thinking someone had probably paid for it so why not.
We exited the arena through a back door everyone else backstage seemed to be
leaving by. Parked outside were tour busses, I didn't really notice
exactly how many. Steve and I stood by the front of a bus right by the
arena exit and on the other side from the line of security outside the back of
the arena. Probably no one could see us except people boarding the bus.
I don't know why but Steve struck me as suddenly being scared, like he was
scared to leave, as if he knew something bad was going to happen to him.
Some of that observation is in hindsight of course. I didn't know what to
make of some of his behavior at the time. Remembering I was standing there
next to him he seemed to attempt to cover up what he was thinking.
Holding my hands in his, Steve kissed me then looked at me with those beautiful
blue eyes. They looked sad again and I could feel something tugging at my
heart.
"I wish I could take you along with me," he said, "but ...
obviously you have a life here."
I stared back at him. For a split second I actually almost considered
dropping everything and going with him. I thought I felt that strongly
about him and the truth probably was that I was enchanted by him. But I
knew he was right. I had to stay.
With Steve still holding my hands, we kissed each other again, much more
intimately.
"Steve, get on the bus! We have to get rolling!" I heard a
distinctly English accented voice say.
He let go of one hand but still held my other hand, staring at me.
"Steve! Get on the bloody bus!" I heard the same voice
call to him again.
I didn't want to let go. I felt Steve's hand slip away from mine as he
climbed up the stairs on the bus. He stopped for a second, looking back at
me briefly. I didn't want to let go.
The next thing I knew I was standing alone at the rear of the Wilson Arena.
Yes, there were still other people milling around but I felt alone. I
hadn't wanted to let go of his hand.
When I got home there was a message on my answering machine from that person
with the vaguely English accent I'd talked with earlier in the day about taking
the photographs of Steve. They weren't going to need the pictures after
all but thank you and they wanted me to send them a bill for my time. I
almost didn't just because working with Steve and spending the time I did with
him seemed payment enough, no it was priceless, but I had to make sure I could
pay the rent for my apartment too.
The next morning after going over all the photographs I'd taken of Steve and
marveling at them again, I took everything, the pictures, the contact sheets,
the negatives, used supplies I had on hand to store them properly, put
everything into a giant envelope, and filed them away with the rest of my work.
*EIGHT*
I don't think it was anything Steve said to me exactly but after that day he
came to my apartment, I began to rediscover my artistic side and I relearned how
to find real joy in all the work I did in connection with my photography.
About a year later I had my first exhibition of my art photography. It was
one wall in a small room at a local gallery but to me it was the real deal.
I got a real charge out of my work, in its own way, playing for an appreciative
audience.
I didn't know Steve died until about a month after it happened. At the
time I was busy preparing for my third photographic exhibition. Also, the
man I was seeing at the time, who eventually became my wonderful husband, was in
the Reserves and got involved with the Gulf War, which was going on right then.
I had too much on my mind and found it much more comforting to listen to music
from the past than pay attention to any music or music news happening in the
present.
I was at Andy's house. We hadn't seen or talked with each other in awhile
and knowing I was by myself he invited me over and insisted on cooking dinner.
While he was in the kitchen I began looking at the latest issue of one of the
music magazines he subscribed to and there it was. All I could think of
was how I shouldn't have let go of Steve's hand that night.
Andy heard what had happened to Steve but didn't think to tell me because at
that point he barely remembered getting me that job to take pictures of Steve.
It had been just that to him, getting work for his cousin. Andy stopped
making dinner, held me for most of the evening, and though I didn't go into
great detail he realized there'd been more to that day than my taking a few
photographs of Steve.
At first, I kept beating myself up for letting Steve go. Then when I found
out how he'd died and apparently had problems most people; i.e., the fans,
weren't aware of, I beat myself up some more, for the drinking we did that day,
for not pursuing the matter further when I noticed how sad he seemed. I
kept thinking that maybe I could have changed the outcome.
Slowly I quit beating myself up and what I live with now is one day this sweet,
beautiful, man showed up at my door and by getting to know each other for a few
hours, that had a positive effect on my life.
In the meantime, I bought a computer so I could use imaging software, got onto
the Internet, and acquired a scanner. Again, as I had a few times before
over the years, I happened to come across the photographs I'd taken of Steve and
realized I could no longer keep them to myself.
Patricia, who runs the gallery I've been displaying most of my work at lately,
is about the same age I am. One day we got to talking about music from the
80's and discovered we both like really old Def Leppard albums. I brought
in a couple of the pictures I'd taken of Steve to share with her. After
much begging, pleading, and cajoling on her part I finally agreed to put up one
framed print along with my other work but not for sale. Secretly I'm
pleased but I'm still a little nervous about finally being
"discovered".
~Fine~