Insecurity in the Oddest Places

I had been watching too much Jerry Maguire, probably. Certainly.

Kyle Vincent had posted to his message board online about the tour his record company was sending him on, and one of the shows was right here in Detroit.  It was the day after I was set to drive back from my annual vacation out East and I’d half forgotten about it.  But when I’d checked my email that night after getting home, I’d seen the short note from him personally, telling me how grateful he was that I was coming, because he was worried how he would be received at the shows.  He was one act in an all day festival, sharing the stage with the likes of Blessid Union of Souls, Richard Marx and Night Ranger.

After he’d posted his message, all of us who were following him online had responded with our plans, which shows we would come to.  He had asked all of us to please come and introduce ourselves to him; there would be autograph tables and after show parties and the like.  And he’d emailed each one of us personally, apparently, to thank all of us for our support, telling us how grateful he was for it.  How knowing individuals in the crowd would put him at ease in the sea of strangers.

I’d been amazed that this singer, this rockstar that had been at the game for a while now could be so insecure, so worried, so sensitive.  I felt almost duty bound to go to the show and help him out, and so I’d recruited my friend Dawn and another friend, Lisa, to go to the show with me.  R had been none to happy about me going, spending a precious day of his time at home away from him.  I had asked him to come with me, to enjoy a day together, but he wasn’t interested in “all of that whiny music”.  I pushed back that it was fine if he didn’t want to attend, but also that my world didn’t stop just because he was gone five days a week either.  I really wanted to go to support Kyle, and if he didn’t want to go, that was on him…not me.

It had been Lisa’s idea to go over to the artist area to see if we could see him before the show, to give him that security knowing that we were there.  It was terribly hot, and the artist area was the only shade we could find.  So off the three of us went, asking the security guard if we could talk to Kyle Vincent.

“This is crazy.  The talent just doesn’t come over like that.  That’s why they have security guys in places like this,” Dawn reasoned.  I figured she was right, but just as I was opening my mouth to agree with her, I saw the guard pointing a dark haired man in our direction.

I smiled and introduced myself and my compadres.  “We just wanted to say hi before the show, and wish you luck.  Or break a leg, or whatever it is you’re supposed to say before a big show.”

Kyle seemed genuinely happy to see us.  He asked to hug all of us, despite the heat and sweat that was already dampening my ponytail.  “I’m so glad you made it!  Do you know Richard Marx is here? Richard Marx.  No pressure or anything.”

We laughed.  He was so self deprecating, so real.  It was hard to imagine what he’d be like onstage.

“Well, we’ll be out there pulling for you.  Look for the three girls dancing like fools,” Dawn comforted.

“You guys are going to stay, right?  There’s an after party and autograph sessions and stuff even after I’m done.  It’d be great to know there are some friends nearby.”  He looked so squarely at me I couldn’t speak.

“Of course,” Lisa answered smoothly.  “We planned on it.  Can’t wait to see Night Ranger,” she said, referring to the final act, the headliner of the show.

“Good.  I guess I should get going and get ready.  Look for me, I’ll be the one in purple.  Wish me luck.”

“Luck!” I responded, watching him walk away as he glanced once more over his shoulder at us.  I felt just like Renee Zellweger watching Tom Cruise as he walked away from her in the airport scene.  What was an insanely handsome, successful singer doing looking at me like that?  Or was I imagining it?

“Niiiice,” Dawn answered.  “Is it just me or do you think he likes our friend here, Lisa.”

“Oh my goodness,” she answered.  “I’d spit nails to get a guy like that to look at me like that.”

“Stop it, both of you,” I said, flushing from more than just the heat.  “He just is in touch with his fans, that’s all.”  But inside, I was enjoying the idea that a handsome man had found something in me to pay attention to.


3 Responses

  1. […] over for a “Living Room Show” with Kyle Vincent.  I’d followed him for ages, and became friendly with him  seven years ago when we finally met before a show.  He’d been bubbling under the surface of […]

  2. Thanks for coming to the show. Hope I was better than Night Ranger.

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