"CALEB!!! CALEB!!!" My voice sounds shrill even in my own ears but I'm the Taylor Swift and when something isn't right Caleb gets to hear about it because it's his job to make sure everything is perfect, every second of every day... or else!
"Taylor..."
I see him standing in the doorway, his shirt jacket blowing on the wind, his eyes moving over my room at speed, trying to work out what the problem is and how he's going to fix it before I get the chance to say another word about it
"Taylor?" I cross my arms over my chest and lower my brows "Taylor, Caleb?" I see him swallow the words he really wants to say and then step into the room, now well and truly 'at my service'
"What seems to be the problem Miss. Swift?"
"Isn't it obvious?"
He gazes around the dressing room again but I see no lightbulb turn on as he purses his lips and sighs
"No"
"No? No?!" I grab his arms and hold them out to his sides "your jacket blowing in the wind isn't a give away?" Again he shakes his head "I'm a singer Caleb, not just any singer the most popular, best selling, most streamed, biggest stadium tour of the year singer and you, my manager, have me in a dressing room that's windy enough to knock coconuts from the trees, I can't warm up my voice like this Caleb, listen..." I force a cough "it's drying out my throat, I'm going to lose my voice, we're going to have to cancel!" I throw myself down on to the couch and clutch my chest "water Caleb! I need water!"
My manager walks slowly to the fridge and pulls out a bottle of water and I recoil in horror
"You're going to give me chilled water to drink in a chilled room?! What are you trying to do? Kill me?! Kill my voice? Kill my career?! You don't get paid, you realise, if I'm careerless and living on the streets, you'll be there with me, cleaning the doorways for my ass to sit on"
"Miss Swift..." he returns the water to the fridge and the collects a room temperature one from the counter and hands it to me
Does this man know nothing about nail care?
I do not pay hundreds of dollars for a manicure to destroy it opening a water bottle when I pay this man ridiculous amounts of money to do it for me!
I turn my head away from him and wait until I hear the water bottle pop open and then be placed in front of me before clearing my throat and raising my eyebrows
" a glass" he states, sighing heavily and then turning to fetch a crystal wine glass for my water
"And?"
"A straw" he says wearily as he turns and returns to the table, bringing me the glass and a straw and setting them down in front of me
"Will there be anything else Miss. Swift?" I see him eyeing the door, eager to escape but there is one more thing
"I asked for a fruit bowl"
"You got a fruit bowl" he raises his hand to motion towards a crystal bowl filled with a vast array of all kinds of weird and wonderful fruits of the world
"What kind of establishment does not know that Taylor Swift only requires one fruit... bananas! Do I see a banana there?"
He scurries over to it and begins searching under the mountain of fruitilicious treats
"Here!" He shouts in triumph holding up one, tiny banana and I crinkle my nose and pretend to put my fingers down my throat
"Breezy room, freezing cold water, no bananas there's just no way I can perform, put an announcement out I'm sick and the show is cancelled" I cross my arms over my chest once more and then kick my feet up and lie down on the couch
"Miss. Swift please... this is important for us, you are being paid a lot of money, there are thousands of people waiting to hear you sing"
"Then a warm dressing room, room temperature water and plenty of bananas shouldn't have been too much to ask should it? Call for my car, I'm sick" I force out a cough "tell the people that hire me to expect to be sued for loss of earnings. I'm sick, I won't be able to perform for a month!"
*a bit of a different style after the drama of my other converted books, I hope you get my attempt at humour 😬
