To be a Nobody

It was a smoggy, falsely-lit night in New York City when Alek Zevon began dressing for the latest Hollywood blockbuster premiere. He didn\'t even know the title of the flick, didn\'t really care. This was a mundane event, one that was used solely for publicity. Zevon was expected to attend the screening, and so he would.

His date for this evening was none other than the year\'s top model, Amara Shriver, who also happened to be his long-time sex toy. Zevon usually had more than a few groupies to choose from, and he took that liberty. But Shriver was his personal favorite, and he knew that if he ever needed a casual fuck, she would always be waiting around. She loved playing the trophy girl.

She entered his apartment dressed in a floor-length, shimmering gold evening gown, slit up to her thighs on the left and right. The dress was sleeveless, and she wore long gloves up to her elbows. Her entire setup had cost well over a million dollars, and she had tried to get Zevon to invest the same amount.

\"Oh Alek,\" she simpered, \"I do wish you would have had your hair and make-up done professionally. It\'s bad enough you wouldn\'t even let my tailor do your suit.\"

\"Amara dear,\" he answered dryly, \"I\'m quite capable of doing my own hair and make-up as I\'ve been doing them myself for years. And I quite like the suit I\'ve picked out, thank you.\"

\"You could afford a professional job, you know,\" she pouted.

\"Yes,\" he patted her cheek, \"But I\'m not that pretentious. Shall we, then?\"

They exited the apartment, making their way to Shriver\'s limousine. Zevon gazed fixedly out the window, quiet and sullen. Finally they reached their destination.

\"Alek, love, we\'re here,\" she notified him.

\"Wonderful,\" he muttered. The chauffer opened his door and out Alek Zevon stepped, followed closely by his date. Putting on a his characteristic half-smile, he made his way up the red carpet and into the theatre.


***

\"And tonight we have the world-renowned Dyllan Blaine,\" called the announcer, \"who is here with his sister and manager, Tommi Blaine!\"

Dyllan blushed at his own name; he still hadn\'t quite gotten used to all the publicity he now received. He and Tommi walked into his very first premiere, and began looking for their personal seats.

\"This way, Dyllan,\" Tommi spotted their seats. But Dyllan stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes growing large. Sitting beside their spot was the one and only Alek Zevon, dressed in his typical tight-fitting, fully black attire.

\"Tommi....\"

\"Well, what are you waiting for, Dyllan? There\'s a whole crowd behind us waiting to get to their seats!\"

\"Tommi,\" Dyllan gulped and nodded toward their seats. His sister glanced in that direction.

\"Yeah, it\'s Alek Zevon, so what?\"

\"He\'s sitting by us...\"

\"Yeah, so say hello when you sit next to him,\" she rolled her eyes.

\"What?!\"

\"Dyllan, you\'re on his level now, it\'s no big deal, now come on,\" she pulled him to their seats, exasperatedly.

***

Alek Zevon sat brooding, sullenly waiting for the premiere to begin. The noise of all the incoming celebrities (\'load of pretentious idiots\') was annoying, and he was beginning to feel a bit claustrophobic. Zevon began glancing about the theatre, trying to calm his anxious nerves. But what he saw only put him in an even fowler mood; Dyllan Blaine was at the end of the row, and it looked as though he was walking in Zevon\'s direction.

\"Great,\" muttered Zevon, \"Another spoiled brat to keep me company.\"

The blonde youth did indeed sit right next to Zevon, who sat with his head propped on his hand, looking morosely at the big-screen. Blaine was fidgeting and kept coughing nervously.

\'Little bastard must have nerves like mine,\' thought Zevon, bitterly. \'He\'ll never have music like mine though...\'

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a timid voice that said, \"Mr. Zevon...\"

Zevon glanced up to see his rival looking at him with a shy smile. \"May I help you?\" he asked crankily.

\"Uh, my name is Dyllan Blaine,\" the youth\'s face turned pink.

\"Yes, I can see that.\"

\"Well, I -erm- just wanted to tell you that I\'m a -uh- big fan of your music...Sir.\"

Zevon cocked a lined brow, \"Oh yes? Well, I can\'t help but notice how popular your own music is becoming.\"

Dyllan blushed deeper, looking away, \"Maybe a bit... but it\'ll never be as good as yours.\"

\"I\'m flattered,\" Zevon said dispassionately. \"So, Mr. Blaine, are you enjoying the premiere so far?\"

\"T-to be honest, I\'m not sure what the point is.\"

\"Mmm,\" Zevon nodded.

Dyllan worked up his nerve, \"Just a lot of pretentious people all gathered together, really...\"

Zevon looked over at him.

\"Except for you of course,\" Dyllan quickly added.

\"And what, pray tell, makes you think I\'m not pretentious, Mr. Blaine?\" Zevon smirked.

\"Um....\" Dyllan stammered, \"You never struck me as the snob type. I mean, you don\'t follow the mainstream. And you never seem terribly impressed by the snobs around you...\"

Zevon smiled sardonically, \"Mr. Blaine, let me explain something to you. Everyone is a snob. It\'s just that some of us snub those who do not follow the mainstream, and some of us snub those who are mainstream.\"

\"Oh,\" Dyllan looked away.

\"However,\" Zevon said, \"To be pretentious is to demand that an acquaintance meet one\'s own extravagant qualifications, and to that end you are correct in saying that I am not pretentious.\"

Dyllan was still silent, feeling very small and somehow inadequate. He had looked up to Alek Zevon since his teenage years, and now considered him wiser than ever. For the longest time he had wanted Zevon, wanted to kiss and caress him. But he knew that could never happen, and so he had settled on just meeting his hero, just talking to him once, perhaps getting an autograph. But now that he himself was known in the world of rock and roll...

\"Mr. Zevon...\" There was that small, shy voice again.

\"Yes?\"

\"I know you don\'t have a lot of spare time, but would you like to maybe, erm, hang out sometime?\"

Zevon thought. It might be a pain in the ass to have this kid following him around, not to mention the fact that this guy was his only rival. Then again, the kid didn\'t seem all that bad, just naive. And besides, Zevon might be able to find out just what it was that made this guy so appealing, and then use it for himself...

Zevon smiled, writing on a slip of paper, \"Here\'s my number, Dyllan. Just call me up sometime - preferably after noon.\"

Dyllan held his breath as he took the slip. \'He called me Dyllan...\'

Then the theatre became quiet as the premiere began to play.