When is my prime?

Casey looked at herself in the glass. She smiled but from the reflection she saw a frown. She scrutinized the complicated mixer in front of Joe, the sound engineer and saw, “Mic 2 – Volume.” She was assigned Mic 2 however; it did not matter if she was given a baton or torchlight. Because regardless of what she did on stage, teeming young fans would tear down Hong Kong coliseum, gifts and praises poured like spells of rain and she would be the Best Newcomer of 2003.

The cup of coffee she was holding cleansed the musty smell of electricity in the stuffy control room. Hot air scattered near Joe’s left ear. He turned and looked at Casey, “What is it that you want this time, Ms. Superstar?” He sounded impatient but dare not annoy the on demand pop idol.

“Oh, nothing. Err… I just want to bring you a cup of coffee. Hee hee.” Casey smiled bashfully, piercing Joe with a set of oval-shaped diamond eyes. Nervously, she passed the cup of coffee to him. Shaking his head, Joe accepted the offer and reluctantly placed it on the floor; a gesture indicating that she ought to disappear now.

Nonetheless, she plastered her slender legs to the floor. She tapped his shoulder and asked, “Do you think I am pretty?”

“I don’t know.” Joe replied sternly.

While Casey was bombarding Joe with childish questions, they did not realize that two inexperienced assistant sound engineers, Donnie and Wai were watching them closely. These eager souls wished their ears had wings that could fly nearer and record what Casey and Joe were on about.

“Wai, I told you what the newspapers said are true. They are having an affair. She did visit him in the house.”

“Of course! I notice that Casey is always watching out for Joe and tries to talk to him all the time. Too bad we can’t hear what they are whispering to each other.”

“Donnie! Look! She is passing him a love letter and a CD.” Wai’s eyes enlarged so big that they were about to jump out.

Casey thanked Joe and walked away. She skipped pass Donnie and Wai, who pretended to untie a roll of wires. The two giggled and each brewed nasty thoughts about the innocent young singer.

In the dressing room, top make-up artist and hairstylist were fussing over Casey who was due to accept an award and to perform in 15 minutes. She was extra anxious that evening because she left her heart in the control room. “Would Joe do it? What happens if he doesn’t?” She repeatedly asked herself until she didn’t realize that her manager David was signaling her to get ready. He pointed to his wristwatch signifying that it was time. She felt a gush of panic serum infused into her blood stream. Her legs clutched into a spasm and she shut her eyes to cut away the fame and glory for a few moments.

Both the artists smiled in gratification. Their masterpiece was about to reveal herself in public. Casey smiled too as she always did whether she was happy or sad. After a while, she felt numb and couldn’t tell the difference between being happy or sad, good or bad and love or hate.

“Casey, darling. You are on. Remember to stay cute and flash that smile of yours.” David grinned as he wrapped his arms around her.

He moved closer and murmured, “This award is important. You should be proud that you won. Don’t disappoint the company. Put on a good show.”

The guest presenters announced the name of the winner. Joe stared into space after reading Casey’s letter. He caught sight of Casey walking vibrantly upstage and she smiled. He watched her every move and cold sweat formed on his forehead. His fingers fiddled with the control switch.

The letter lay on the floor next to a cold cup of coffee, the earlier hot coffee that Casey brought to Joe. He picked up the letter and read it again.

DEAR JOE,

I am sorry for causing you so much of troubles. For the past two weeks, I was hanging around you because I found out that you are the chief sound engineer of the award show. Yeah, the one where I will be presented the Best Newcomer title, which I don’t think I deserve. I know you are the only person who can help me but each time I see you, I don’t have the courage to ask you. So, my last chance is to write you this letter. I hope you will read it before it is too late.

Everyone knows I cannot sing and I even sound terrible on CD. What am I doing in this industry? How can my fans support me? Just because I have a pretty face. I feel that I am lying to the whole world especially to the fans that spend their money to buy my records. Who can sing about KFC, McDonanld’s and Pizza Hut but me?

I watched Sally’s 25th anniversary concert and that prompted me to think and re-evaluate where I am. If I want to be a singer, Sally is the person I so deeply wish I can be. She has a beautiful voice, flawless showmanship and what motivated me most was her sincerity to herself, her fans and music. These are the qualities that I don’t have. I am not even sincere to myself. There must be a reason why she is still going strong after 25 years. Where would I be after 25 years if I continue the way I am? When is my prime? Having a pretty face wouldn’t last me for 1 year what more one quarter of a century.

During the concert, I sat quite near to Sally’s fans. They sang, shouted and screamed her name. “Sally, we love you! We love you!” I know they meant it and Sally deserved every support she gets from fans who came from all over the world. I even saw a Western gentleman who truly enjoyed her show. When can I ever perform like her and touch the hearts of my fans with my sincerity and talent and not with a plastic face?

So, Joe I understand that this could cause you your job and your reputation are at stake. I won’t force you to do it but I hope that you will think about it. When it is time for me to perform, boost the volume on Mic 2 and play the CD I passed to you. And leave the rest to me. I know this will cause me everything but what is it that I have earned so far which has not been pre-arranged? For once, I want to do something for myself and for my fans. I want to sing!

Thank you.

With deepest appreciation,
Casey

PS: I owe you my life.

Soon after the master of ceremony pronounced that Casey will perform her “Fast Food Chain” song, a million screams were heard from among the crowd. Casey smiled but her eyes were set on Joe. Although she was miles away from him, he could feel the pleas from her gaze. What should he do?

Joe inserted Casey’s CD. The music began to pump and Casey tried to speak from her microphone but could not hear a sound. She was disheartened. The dancers pounced onto the stage and circled around her. She was nailed put and continued to gawk towards the control room.

“Please, Joe. Help me.” Casey begged with tears forming in her eyes and she knelt down on the ground.

Even when she was not singing, her frail voice was heard circulating in the coliseum as it was broadcasted from the control room.

Suddenly, Joe stopped the CD and turned on the volume of Mic 2. The audience could hear Casey sobbing uncontrollably and one person started clapping. In no time everyone else cheered in unison.

Casey stood up slowly and placed the microphone to her mouth. “Hello.” She uttered but still trying to catch her breath. She closed her eyes and counted to five and opened them again. At that precise moment, she could see for the first time what she was doing on stage clearly and understood the purpose of existence. She knew she had to fight for what she believed in.

“I am sorry. But I can’t accept this award because I don’t deserve it.” There was a complete silence in the coliseum while David nearly choked on his saliva.

“I apologize to everyone here, especially to my recording company and more so to my fans. Every time I hold this mic in my hand, I feel like a liar and I am cheating each and every one of you. I know by my actions tonight, I will lose everything. But it is ok. They were never mine to begin with. I am tired of pretending.”

Casey paused. Not a single person made a movement or said a word. They were hypnotized by the guts and honesty she emanated. David on the other hand was very worried if he would be terminated by his employer. Before she could do further damage, he ran to the control room but it was a little too behind schedule.

“Prior to my leaving and say goodbye forever, I wish to do one more thing. At least give me a chance to be truthful, just once. Let me sing for you with this microphone. Volume on. Thank you.” Casey held the microphone up like Lady Liberty and flashed a smile to the spectators. One by one, those present clapped and in the end all gave her a standing ovation.

Casey looked at Joe and as though understanding her cue, he played the CD, which she gave to him in the morning. A familiar tune filled the air and it was not a melody from her album.

“I know this is not my song. I wonder if I will get into trouble for singing it but I hope Miss Sally Yeh won’t mind. I really love this song. Sally is a singer whom I respect and love the most from the bottom of my heart and I wish to sing this song because it will mean a lot to me.”

The audience cheered even louder and with her eyes fixed on them for the last time, she sang the second verse of “Ling See Sap Fan”, the 1984 hit which propelled Sally to success. One must admit that Casey was not exactly a singer with a voice but what shined through that evening was her sincerity.

Joe picked up the cup of cold coffee from the floor and took a sip. “You don’t owe me anything now.”