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A Swift Reunion

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A Swift Reunion

Taylor Swift stared at her slim countenance in the full-length mirror of her dressing room. “Look what you made me do,” she whispered to herself, tilting her head back with a defiant look in her eyes. She applied bright red lipstick and kissed herself in the mirror, leaving perfectly formed lip marks on the mirror.

There was a knock at the door, and a man wearing headphones peeked his head into the dressing room. “Five minutes, Ms. Swift.”

“Okay, thank you!” Swift responded, her voice airy and bright belying her dark mood.

She sat down at her dressing table and picked up a small framed photo. She held it up to her face of she and Katy Perry arms around each other, smiling for the camera on the exotic beaches of Honopu Beach in Kuwai, Hawaii. She stared intently at every detail of Katy’s face, her bright blue eyes and blonde hair. Taylor missed those days when she and Katy were both younger and more carefree. Before the days of wearing wigs to avoid the paparazzi. Before the time when they both became obsessed with fame and all its trappings.

For a moment, she thought about running from the pulsing arena and away from all of it. With her new video out and all the attention it drew, she was on fire. She thought about showing up at Katy’s door to throw her arms around her neck and show her how sorry she was for all of it. But there were thousands of adoring fans screaming for her. The show, unfortunately, must always go on. Taylor took one last look at herself in the mirror before she left the dressing room, donning her performance mask of confidence and control.

Two and a half hours later, Taylor wiped the sweat from the back of her neck and downed a bottle of water. “Great show, Taylor,” a stagehand remarked as Taylor passed by him. “Thank you,” she said, smiling. She just wanted to get back to her dressing room and wipe off all the makeup. She just wanted to go home.

She closed the door of the dressing room behind her and leaned against the door, closing her eyes.

“Hi there,” came a voice from the couch. Taylor nearly jumped out of her skin. Too many stalkers over the years made her jumpy. A melodious laugh followed just as Taylor’s eyes focused on the form sitting on her couch.

Katy Perry sat before her wearing very little makeup, a pair of ripped jeans, white Converse sneakers and a gray hoodie sweatshirt. The hood covered most of Katy’s cropped hair, making her look like a tomboy. She held the photo of her and Taylor from Taylor’s dressing table in her hands. “I didn’t mean to startle you,” she said.

“Well you nearly scared me to death. What are you doing here,” Taylor asked, donning a defensive pose with her hands crossed over her chest.

“Don’t worry. I’m not here to fight with you. Everyone thinks we hate each other and your video didn’t exactly help matters. Do you hate me that much?” Katy paused, as if searching for the right words. “Nevermind. Don’t answer that.” After a few tense, silent moments, Katy held up the photo of she and Taylor. “That was a really fun day,” she said, her eyes soft.

“It was,” admitted Taylor. “I miss those days back before everything…” Taylor’s voice trailed off into silence.

“Before everything got so crazy?” Katy filled in, completing her sentence.

“Yeah.”

Katy put the photo down on the coffee table and stood up. Taylor noted how much shorter Katy seemed compared to her five-foot-ten-inches plus heels. Katy slowly walked over to Taylor and gently pulled her crossed arms down to her sides. She brushed away a loose strand of Taylor’s blonde hair. Taylor sighed and closed her eyes. It was as if time stopped at that moment and all that Taylor could feel was Katy’s breath on her face, her fingers in her hair. Nothing else mattered.

“Don’t” Taylor whispered. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Why not? Because I’m supposed to hate you?” Katy said, her voice full of emotion.

“No,” Taylor said as she leaned into Katy more even though her mind was telling her to pull herself together. But at this moment, Taylor’s body was doing what it wanted regardless of what warning flags were popping up in her head. The smell of Katy’s perfume destroyed the remainder of Taylor’s resolve. “Because this is too hard,” she said quietly, her defenses gone.

“Just don’t write another song about me,” Katy said as her lips touched Taylor’s.

Taylor broke away just long enough to say, “I can’t promise that,” a smile curving onto her lips and Katy wiped it away with a passionate kiss.

The End…Or is it?

Disclaimer: This series is a satire by the author and is entirely a work of fiction and is not intended maliciously. Celebrities are in a fictional depiction or personality parody.

Sources:

Photo credit: Digitalspy

About Lucy J. Madison

Lucy J. Madison is a novelist, poet, and screenwriter from Connecticut. She’s the author of two contemporary lesbian romance novels In the Direction of the Sun and Personal Foul as well as a collection of poetry entitled I.V. Poems (Sapphire Books). www.lucyjmadison.com Connect with her on Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter.

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