Pop Star's Lament

Chapter 1
Meet The Legend (In Her Own Mind).

Chapter Description: Symphana Bofana thinks she knows what being young is all about.

Symphana Bofana, age 45, a "past due-date" singer who got her start as a young child singing catchy kiddy tunes for the multi-billion dollar Diznee Corporation, gazed at her massive Malibu property with distaste.

“I mean,” she groused out loud to no one in particular, “this is the American dream, right?”

“You’re supposed to get rich, buy lots of stuff, and be famous, right?” she continued in a voice that echoed her mounting strain. The only people who could hear her were her personal maid, and her butler, named Charles.

As they were professionals, they turned a deaf ear to her disgruntlement. The “rapidly aging hag” had grown more unhappy with increasing speed in recent years.

She sat up and pushed herself off of her chaise lounge with an audible grunt. Her personal trainer had been hard-pressed to keep the pounds off of her well-toned and tanned to perfection body, but truth to tell, the years were there for all to see, despite the health spas and many plastic surgeries.

She gazed with minor trepidation into her pool at a reflection of herself in the still waters. She could just make out a new wrinkle that her skin stretched by surgery could no longer hide. Her implanted boobs kept the flabby look of her chest in its designer bikini top.

They looked nice for the moment, but soon…

A ringing cellphone interrupted her self-deprecating narrative. Charles approached her, holding the instrument in his white-gloved hands as though it warranted careful treatment.

“Your agent has called you back as you requested, milady,” he said with well-modulated neutral tones as he handed it to her. She nodded her head and gave him a grunt of gratitude as he backed away with reverential slowness for a few steps before turning around and walking off as his butler's training dictated.

“Maury, talk to me!” she demanded. “What do they think of a second demolition ball video with me riding it tastefully naked?”

A vision of a haggard, bright pink-haired old lady with sloppy breasts and saggy skin atop a large ball attached to a massive chain caused her agent to shudder before he answered.

“They’re not thrilled about it, Sym,” he responded carefully. “Your image, in all frankness, is not what the 18 to 42 crowd is expecting these days.”

“Okay, genius!” she sneered. “What do you suggest I do, then?”

“Well, there’s always Vegas, like we discussed…”

“Vegas!?” she yelled angrily. “I’m not a washed-out has been, okay!?”

As she Launched into a lengthy harangue about how she was still at the top of her game, poor Maury sat back on his end to weather out her rambling vent about the escalating frustration of losing the adoration of her fan base which continued to dwindle at a rapid pace.

After finding that Maury could only give her a sympathetic ear to her plight, she finally hung up the phone and put it down on a table next to her recliner. It took every effort on her part to not fling the phone away from herself, even though the manufacturer had created it for such abuse by pricing it economically and in matched pairs for just such an occasion.

“Well, that’s it, I’m screwed and nobody loves me!” she sat down and started a brand new pity fest which promised to be a long one.

The staff and the butler wondered if the money they got for this gig was worth the pain they went through as her sobs and crying jags went on and off for the lengthy afternoon.

One thing of note that kept her staff on her side was that despite all the roller coaster motions that her pity jags took them on, she stayed sober, straight, and didn’t abuse the furnishings or staff.

Symphana had learned one thing about life while growing up; that drugs, alcohol, staff and furnishings were expensive. She couldn’t measure the immense amount of money she’d saved during her meteoric career by not giving in to them.

After her long day of denial finally came to a close, she jumped in her Olympic sized swimming pool, did a lap to wash away her salty tears and went inside for her dinner.

Sated on a vegetarian feast, she changed into her pajamas and went to bed. Sleep would be elusive this night as she tossed and turned, unable to catch the attention of and get the blessings of Morpheus.

Giving up on a decent night’s sleep, she went for an extended walk down the long corridors of the west side of her mansion. After about 15 minutes of hard walking, she finally settled down into a contemplative, unhurried pace.

“This entire business would be better if I could use some of my vast resources to become young again!” she muttered, knowing full well the futility of such a thing as she reached the end of the corridor to turn around to continue her walk in the opposite direction.

As she approached the midpoint of the east and west branches of her sprawling mansion, she stopped in shock at a figure sitting in one of her overstuffed chairs, reading a tablet.

“Who are you and what are you doing on my property?” she asked indignantly.

“I’m the person who has THE Answer to your declining fan base,” he replied evenly.

Incredulous, she stared at him for a moment. His tailored Armani suit and expensive Italian loafers showed his fashion sense, but what about the man inside? He wasn’t raving, mad or upset. In fact, she could feel a cold calculation on his part as he sized her up in her pajamas.

She felt a shiver as she felt glued to her spot, mesmerized like a deer in the headlights of an oncoming motor vehicle. The man’s intrigue held her fascination and her better judgement for now.

Arising from the chair in a leisurely manner like a cat stretching from a brief nap, the tall, well-muscled individual came over to Symphana in a casual, nonthreatening manner to offer a business card.

It read:

“No money down, and inexpensive rates for all your needs, aging or otherwise. — Natasha Corp, LTD,”

“Natasha Corp? I’ve never heard of it, and I’ve seen some shady ones in my lifetime, too!” she snapped nervously. She could smell his expensive aftershave and realized that her life might be in danger. She moved with speed over to an ancient telephone instrument with no dial on its face and picked up its handset.

“Hello, security?” she said as Natasha waved his hand and she said against her will, “Just checking to see if you were awake!” and hung up the handset.

After putting it down, she found herself angry. “What made me do that?” she asked aloud and went to pick it back up.

“Please don’t. I only request you to entertain my offer and then I’ll leave peaceably,” said Natasha.

She had to admit; he didn’t seem threatening, and she was a little bored at not being able to sleep.

“You have one minute and then I’ll pick up this receiver again!”

“Thank you! My offer to you is your youth, any age you like, for a small trifling fee.”

“That’s it? What’s the fee?”

She should've scoffed at the ridiculousness of such an offer. Instead, she hoped against hope that it held the truth. Such was the desperation she felt at getting older and not wanting to accept it and move on to the next life stage.

“It's a tiny thing of insignificance that you’ve ignored all your life. You’ll never miss it!” he smiled at her with a simple, beatific grin on his handsome face.

That he hid something was obvious. Whatever he wanted was of high value and made him smile in the anticipation of getting it.

“Hmm, I don’t suppose you could give out a free sample? Say for, um, I don’t know, 24 hours?”

“No problem! May I suggest you call your butler, Clarence, here first?”

“Why?”

“The free sample is of an age of my choosing. You’ll need your butler to know about it and assist you.”

She stared at him for a moment of thought, then retorted with indignation, “Just how young are we talking about? Even though I wore diapers for one of my videos, I’m not too keen on wearing one for the next 24 hours!”

She could almost see the “Oh, Darn!” on his face and hear a non-existent finger snap of frustration from him.

“I promise you won’t need diapers. I’m thinking you’ll have a fun day enjoying the zoo or something else of similar value.”

“But not of legal age, I take it?”

“No, you won’t be of legal age,” he conceded.

“48 hours then?” She pleaded, hoping she didn’t appear too needy.

“Done!” he conceded with a quickness that she regretted. She might have been able to hold out for more!

“Well, if it’s free…” She paused, “Truly free, that is…”

“Oh, it is!” he said happily. “I’ll even throw in a pleasant night’s sleep to help start your youthful experience!” he said as he snapped his fingers.

In the next few moments, Symphana felt drowsy as Natasha’s induced sleep hit her with full force. The last thing she felt was the floor letting her down with tender care to its level as she blanked out.