~ * ~

'You're the only one who really knew me . . .'

Excerpt from Rhiannon Mary Lougher's diary

'/ People living their lives for you on TV / They say they're better than you and your agree / 'Who Will Save Your Soul?' / Jewel Kilcher /
How true is that? More than we can possibly know. What is it about Fame that draws so many people to it? What is Fame essentially? Does it make its followers special? Make them somehow above the rest of civilisation? Does Fame make those who lust for it better having known it? What is Fame?
Society's ultimate gauntlet.
Fame may make one feel special, until the tabloid press decides to begin the first round of blows. The vicious rumours that never stop. Fame may make its followers feel that they are above those of us who have not embraced its doctrines, until the second round of this gladiator tournament begins; the concerted effort to tear one's credibility to shreds. Fame will make those who lust for it feel better, until the lust wears off and the rose-coloured glasses are whipped away to reveal an empty husk of a human being, filled only at certain times, and only with depression and heroin..
And all the while, those of us who are not initiated into the guild of the Famous, sit and watch in disgusted fascination. We cannot bear to see, yet cannot bear to turn away, as Fame takes its chosen and, with a sadistic chuckle, sets them upon the cruel and torturing road to self-destruction . . .'

~ * ~
July 7th, 1998
Tulsa, Oklahoma
11:19am

' . . .'Cause there's just an empty space, and there's nothing left here to remind me, just the memory of your face. Take a look at me now . . .' collapsing on the lounge, Taylor looked around at the rather unfamiliar surroundings. New house. It'd take a bit to get used to, considering that after these few days, he wouldn't see home again for months. He shut his eyes. Sleep . . . sleep . . . sleep . . .
"Ow!" he winced as four sets of sharp cat claws dug into his stomach. Meeeoooww! "Mama! I know you're happy to see me, but you don't have to try and gut me!" despite his scolding tone of voice, he was smiling. He'd missed this little fur ball! "You get fatter every time I see you! What's Liz been feeding you, Fat Cat?" smiling he gently scratched the purring animal behind the ears. Meow! And she settled in his lap, asleep in less than half a second. Absently stroking her black fur, Taylor lay his head back against the arm-rest. The radio was going; he couldn't be bothered getting up to turn it off. 'How could you just walk away from me, when all I can do is watch you leave. Cause we've shared the laughter and the pain, we even shared the tears. You're the only one who really knew me at all. So take a look at me now . . .'

4:41pm

"Taylor! Taylor!" something was shaking him from the blissful oblivion he'd slipped into. The one time he'd been so exhausted his sleep hadn't been permeated with dreams - or nightmares - and he had to be woken up!
"Wake up sleepy head!" grumbling, he pushed the hand away and tried to sleep.
"Taylor!" the intruder wouldn't leave him be; did he have to wake up just to tell this person to rack off?
"Come on Taylor!"
"Piss off! I just went to sleep twenty minutes ago!"
"Like hell! You've been dead to world for hours!"
"What time is it?" grudgingly, he supported himself on his elbows.
"Almost 5pm,"
"What -?! Shit!"
"It is late, but considering that's probably all the sleep you normally get!" Taylor said nothing, "How much sleep do you normally get?" Taylor's eyes were wide, "Taylor?" Taylor's jaw fell open, "Taylor?!"
"You - you're a redhead!" That didn't happen! That just did not happen! Elisabette Shephard, slightly pragmatic, workaholic school newspaper editor, did NOT dye her hair red! She was too constant, too stable. Steady, grounded Elisabette didn't do something so . . . so . . . spontaneous! The thought made him cringe.
"Yeah, since when has that been against the law?"
"I . . . um . . . err . . ."
"Aren't I allowed to dye my hair? Is that prohibited for Elisabette Shephard? Is she too sensible? Is Liz too down-to-earth to ever do something like that? Is Lizbet too dependant and reliable to do something so stupid?! -"
"Liz! Liz!" Taylor was wide awake now, "Liz, it's okay! You just surprised me! It looks good!"
"I know you're just saying that, but thanks anyway,"
"I'm serious Liz! Really!"
"Yeah, sure!" but she was smiling. The cynicism was gone from her voice. Her bitter words, the exact same ones her parents had used.
"You hungry?" Tay asked casually, realising he hadn't eaten since the 2am breakfast they'd served on the plane. Bursting out laughing, Liz walked into the kitchen.

July 8th, 1998
Tulsa, Oklahoma
Mabee Centre

Humming, going over bits and pieces in his head that he'd stuffed up at their last show, Zac gazed out the tinted glass window at the enormous crowd waiting for the doors to open. Of course, it had to be boiling hot today! It couldn't be boiling hot tomorrow could it? It had to be today, so he couldn't go swimming because they were so busy doing sound-checks and setting up and then 'resting'.
All the news crews were there, mobbing this one group of girls who'd made this enormous banner. The Mabee Centre wouldn't let them take banners inside. Pretty dumb rule, he thought. Craning his neck, he tried to see what they'd written. No use. Too far away.
Damn.
"Zac, hon," Diana came up behind him. She looked exhausted.
'Join the club Mom!' he thought.
The heat had sapped even his seemingly endless supply of energy. Right now, all Zac wanted to do was find a quiet corner and go to sleep. Absently, he swatted at a fly buzzing near his ear and glanced questioningly at his mother.
"Could you take Zoë for a little while for me?"
"Sure Mom," he smiled weakly and lifted his gorgeous - and heavy - little sister from Diana's arms. Supporting her on his hip helped to take a little of the weight off his arms.
"You're a natural Zac," she smiled and tucked his hair behind his ear.
"Mom! Jeez!"
"Sorry hon, couldn't resist," watching her walk away, Zac chuckled wryly and shook his head.
"Parents! What are we gonna do about 'em Bubs?" yawning, Zoë just rested her head on his shoulder. "Me too. Me too. You're lucky, you can go to sleep on whoever's shoulder you want. Wanna trade places?" she was asleep, "Oh well, it was worth a try,"

~ * ~
May, 1996
Tulsa, Oklahoma
Mayfest

Walking around the grass oval, Elisabette wondered how many times she must have done this. Waiting around for Hanson to start playing. She'd known them for years, and had gone to see them play at heaven-knows-how many gigs. What number was this one?
Collapsing onto a park seat, ignoring the two old ladies sitting there gossiping, she pulled her shoes off her aching feet and attempted to count how many Hanson concerts she'd been to.
She gave up at 164.

'Plant a seed, plant a flower, plant a rose; you can plant any one of those; keep planting to find out which one grows; it's a secret no-one knows . . .' smiling, Rachael heard the familiar voice and tugged on her older brother's arm to get his attention.
"Carlton?"
"What is it Ice?" the patronising tone in his voice belied his annoyance. Rachael was a cute kid and all, but why did he have to get stuck with watching her today? Of course Rhee had to be sick today! He'd wanted to stay home with her, but no! He had to come on the 'family outing' while their Mom looked after Rhiannon.
"Rhee's going to be fine, hon. You go and have a good time," Arian had said. Have a good time? How could he possibly have a good time when his baby sister was so sick she hadn't been able to get out of bed?

In bare feet, Liz walked over to the community stage. The wet grass cooled her feet off just nicely. The guys were just finishing up. Why hadn't she walked over when they'd started?
'Well Liz my girl, considering the rather . . . err . . . enthusiastic crowd that have flocked around the stage and the fact that you could hear everything fine from where you were sitting!'

Sick of waiting for her brother, Rachael ran over to the community stage, just as they were finishing up.
"Liz!" she said and ran over to her sister's best friend, instantly wrapping her arms around Liz's waist.
"Hey Ice! I'm happy to see you too, but you don't need to cling to me like a leech!"
"Yes I do,"
"Why?"
"Because otherwise you'll get lost!" what could she say to logic like that?
"Then that's very considerate of you Ice," Liz tried not to burst out laughing; Rhee's sister was just so cute!

"Are we finished now?" for about the fifth time, Taylor heard the impatient whisper coming from behind the drums. What he really wanted to know was 'What's the next song?'. Would Zac ever learn to do the smart thing and write the order down on his hand?
"Yes, we're finished," no sooner had the sounds formed in his throat, then a flash of blue, and blond hair, dashed down the stairs and was off, exploring the wild, untamed reaches that was Mayfest. No matter how well put together it was, to his eyes, it always looked like organised chaos. So easy to get lost. Smiling as he absently thanked the audience and left Ike to tell them all about 'MMMBop' - the new CD they had on sale for the first time today - he remembered the time they'd lost Jess. Nearly two hours wasted looking for her, and where was she? Across the road at one of her friend's house playing Barbies! You'd think she could have told them, but no! Granted she was only five at the time, but still!
His thoughts wandered. Where was Jess? Probably off somewhere with Rachael Lougher. Were the Loughers even here? Would this thing between Carlton and Ike stir things up? Only if the Queen of Planet Bimbo had been stupid enough to come. Who was it that had come up with 'Queen of Planet Bimbo'? Him or Rhiannon? Had Rhiannon seen the show? Had she liked it? Had she not? Since when did he care? Since now?
"Tay!" startled, he almost jumped as he whirled around and saw Rhia- Elisabette.
"Tay? Taylor? You okay?"
"Wha- Oh, yeah! I'm fine!" he forced himself to laugh. Glancing over her shoulder, he noted that while Ice was there, Rhee was not. "Where's Rhiannon?"
"Sick," Rachael said softly. One look at those baby blue eyes - so like his own - he knew this wasn't the ordinary sick. This was the get-real-worried-we-might-have-to-call-an-ambulance sick. To a seven-year-old, any sick was a get-real-worried-we-might-have-to-call-an-ambulance sick. But Rachael wasn't an ordinary seven-year-old.

"It's very kind of you to come see her Taylor. She hasn't had an easy time," Lew said, not sure whether he was talking to the boy or to himself. Tay couldn't decide whether Mr. Lougher was referring to Rhee being sick or Rhee in general when he said 'she hasn't had an easy time'. Hanging his coat on the rack, Lew noted that his hands were shaking. He shoved them in his pockets and called out into the too quiet house.
"Arian?"
Silence.
"Arian?" the panic was there, wanting to break loose, but he swallowed it down to rest in the pit of his stomach.
"In here," the reply was soft, barely audible. It came from Rhee's room.
"Mam?" Lew blanched.
"Myn Duw!" forgetting all about the young boy standing in his living-room, Lew rushed into the kitchen and down the stairs to his eldest daughter's bedroom.
"Arianhrod, pa digwydd?"
"Llewelyn! Diolch Dofydd!"
"Rhiannon, cariad?"
"Da?"

The rest of what was spoken passed right over Taylor's head. He couldn't understand a word they were saying, knew only that they spoke in Welsh.

He was still standing in the middle of the living room when Arian and Lew walked out. The man glanced at him, looked surprised to see him there.
"You can see her if you want," just the way he said it made Tay hesitate. Did he really want to see her after all?
'Of course you do! She's your best friend and she's sick! You have to see her!'

The sight that greeted Taylor's eyes wasn't anything that warranted Lew's almost blind panic. At least not in his mind. She was asleep. Besides being a bit pale, she didn't look sick. So what was it they were so worried about?
"Rhiannon?"
"Mam? Da? Ble bod ti?"
"Rhee?" what was she saying?
"Pa? Cymorth fi! Mam?"
"Rhiannon?"
"Mam?! Da?! Crist, cymorth fi! Na gwyneud gadael i fi!"
"Speak English!" he cried in frustration.
"Yr iaith fain? English? What? Who -"
"Rhee?" her eyes focused on him. With a lot of effort.
"Taylor?"
"Yeah? It's okay, it's me," she reached out a weak hand.
"Cyfaill?"
"What?"
"Ffrind?"
"Friend? Yeah, I'm your friend Rhee. I'm your best friend," taking that hand, he felt how cold it was.
"Na gwyneud cerdded, serch," and she closed her dark eyes. Sleeping once more.

Clinging to her husband, Arian couldn't hold back the tears. And she was loosing her grasp on the choking sobs too.
"Llewelyn -"
"Llonydd cariad," and he lightly kissed her temple. What were they going to do? She asked him as much.
"Fi na gwyneud medru, cariad, fi na gwyneud medru," was his answer and he held her tighter. He felt just as helpless as his wife did.

~ * ~
Extract from 'Tulsa World'

Hanson has gone from the middle of nowhere to the middle of everywhere - and back again. Home town pop-rock musical group Hanson - a trio that became international superstars following the release of its 1997 album "Middle of Nowhere" - is playing for the home town crowd Wednesday at Mabee Centre.
Fans are reaching out to Hanson through the fan club Middle Of Everywhere - commonly dubbed MOE - according to band-member Isaac Hanson.
"Hanson plays music that is very much a part of everything," Isaac said, by telephone from his tour bus.
Isaac Hanson, the oldest of the three brothers at 17, plays guitar, piano and sings. Front-man, keyboardist and main vocalist Taylor Hanson is 15. Twelve-year-old Zachary 'Zac' Hanson hammers away on the drums and adds his high, clear vocals to the brotherly harmony.
"[Our music] is a collaborative effort where everyone of us is thoroughly involved in every song that we have written," Isaac said. They are promoting their original compositions - self-produced and recorded in Tulsa - through the re-release of '3-Car Garage: The Indie Recordings '95 Through '96'.
The Tulsa-born trio has ended its European tour, and is entering the second leg of its North American tour - which swings through Tulsa this week, and ends in Denver July 21.
"I don't think anything has really changed now that we have been across the world," Zac said. "The music does sound different when you write it in different places, and after you've seen different things. I think we just love making music."
Hanson's parents, Walker and Diana Hanson (married a year after they graduated from Nathan Hale High School in 1972), encouraged their sons' singing at home, carefully guiding them through their first public performances and then helped launch them on the road to stardom. The couple also credits home-schooling with helping to create the boys' close relationship. And of course, home-schooling provides the perfect solution for an on-the-road education.
"It's cool because you get to learn about stuff in every place," Zac said. "That is part of our home schooling. We go to different places, and find out about different libraries. Like earlier today, we saw the John Fitzgerald Kennedy Library in Boston. That was cool."
Zac said he whiles away his down time on the bus with drawing -"Put it this way, they're not realistic" - and his Nintendo 64. He wished he had brought his dirt bike, which is waiting for him back home in Tulsa.
Back home is where their parents coached the three to sing 'amen' in harmony after saying grace around the family diner table. Their singing soon grew into doo-wopping a cappella at happy hour shows at the Blue Rose Café parking lot. Their first professional appearance was at Tulsa's Mayfest in 1992.
The blond young men won that most prized goal of all musicians - a recording contract - after pounding the streets of Austin during the 1996 South by South-West music convention, playing their home-produced recording for anyone who would listen. The soulful sounds of future heart-throbs caught the ear of one manager who carried their sound to Mercury.
The result - worldwide popularity and adulation that has been compared to Beatlemania - is something Zac has had to learn to live with, he said.
"A lot of times it's really cool because you get to meet different people," Zac said. "They send us tons of letters, and we get to talk to them about songs we like. It's really cool."
Isaac recognises that as much fun as touring can be, it is hard work that keeps the family going.
"There are definitely ups and downs, but it's enjoyable at the same time," Isaac said. "It all comes with its balances - checks and balances."
The secret is working together as a creative team to solve problems together Isaac said.
"Sometimes a chord on a guitar will somehow spur some thought in your head, and you will write a song about it," Isaac said. "I will say something to Taylor - then he will say something to Zac - and we'll all go - you know that's not so great - or we'll all get really into it."
And really 'getting into their music' is the one thing in common among the Hansons' varied musical models.
"People often ask us if we had direct influences. Honestly, just a lot of different music - not necessarily individual people. We listen to anything from Bob Dylan to Massive Attack to Aerosmith to En Vogue. We very much enjoy all that music," Isaac said.
But the young lads have discovered the mixed blessing of success.
'When you live in a cookie-cutter world / being different is a sin / So you don't stand out / and you don't fit in - weird' reads the lyric from their song 'Weird' on the album 'Middle of Nowhere'.
"Everybody feels up sometimes, they feel down sometimes, sometimes they feel sideways, sometimes they feel weird," Isaac said.
"And the beauty of music is you can express all those different feelings, in all the different songs you write. And hopefully people can identify with those,'' Isaac said. "That's what makes song-writing fun. (We don't just sing) 'Where's the Love' or 'MMMBop' - there's 'Weird', there's 'I Will Come to You' or 'Yearbook', which is a very moody song - even more so than 'Weird'. It's very cool to get to write all those different things."
The Mercury bio credits Hanson with implanting 'MMMBop' into 'global cultural consciousness' and racking up more than 12 million in album sales for 'Middle of Nowhere' and their holiday collection 'Snowed In'.
That official bio goes on to note that Hanson's initial releases received 'rave reviews across the board, from Spin to Rolling Stone to the New York Times [and] earned the respect of their industry with three Grammy nominations . . .'
The boys ventures into other media include their 32-page quarterly magazine for the official Hanson fan club, MOE.
The magazine MOE is for the fan club, and Hanson writes a lot of the articles, according to Isaac.
"We try to make sure that everything that we do has a certain amount of a personal touch. First, we get all sorts of letters from MOE members and non-fan-club-members, and we try to put letters in there, so fans can read those letters. And also, we answer rumours and frequently asked questions. We also talk about what's going on with Hanson on the Web."
Of course, the official Hanson Web site - www.hansonline.com - and the Hanson Hotline number - (918) 446-3979 - are staying busy right now. But then, there's an awful lot going on.
- by Rick Hammer

July 9th, 1998
Tulsa, Oklahoma

Rhododendron Park just wasn't the same. It didn't seem as big or as grand anymore. How could it, after seeing New York's Central Park and the Royal Palace Gardens in London. They were worthy of the titles 'big' and 'grand'. Rhododendron didn't fair quite so well. It was . . . well . . . he couldn't even admit it to himself! This park was nothing but a graveyard of memories he'd tried to bury, but could never forget.
Sitting down on a bench, Tay looked around. Despite the perfect day, there was no-one here. Earlier, Zac and Wickit - the puppy that had 'followed him home' - had been there, but they'd left about half an hour ago. 'Followed him home'? Yeah! Sure! Zac'd probably bought him from the mall pet store on the quiet. That kid had always wanted a dog. They suited each other.
Taylor was alone. Something that didn't happen too often, unless he locked himself in the bathroom. Sighing, he closed his eyes, enjoying the warmth of the sun on his face. Performing was fun, but it would have been better if they'd had a little more than only three days between shows. Perform, travel, sleep, perform, travel, sleep, perform, travel, sleep; food to be consumed when and if a spare minute can be found; talk is cheap and therefore forbidden at all times!
He never knew what made him open his eyes.
She was there.
For a split second, his heart stopped beating, before resuming three times faster than normal.
"Rhee?!" he managed to choke out. Long dark hair and dark eyes, strangely empty, peered right through him. She walked past him.
"Rhee?!" he was confused now, "Rhee?! Rhee! Rhiannon!!" he shouted. She didn't turn around, she ran faster. What could he do except go after her? He'd lost her once, by God he wasn't going to lose her again!

Running as fast as he could, Taylor still couldn't catch her. The faster he went, the further she got ahead. He was getting desperate!
"Rhiannon!!"
Ask anyone he passed, they'd say he looked like he was running with the hounds of hell baying at his heels. Maybe they were. But they were the hounds of the past.
As he doggedly followed her, faces from the dark recesses of his mind floated into view . . . 12 year-old Liz . . . little Rachael . . . Carlton, outraged with pain . . . old Rose, near toothless . . . Arian and Lew, as in love then as they were haunted now . . . his own parents . . . eyes stricken, Isaac looking down at him . . . Doctor Polanski . . . that malicious sneer . . .

She ducked inside a door. Not even bothering to look, not even caring, Taylor burst inside the hotel. He didn't see the strange looks from the receptionists, didn't give a damn that the porters were staring at him like he was an escaped lunatic. All he cared about was catching Rhiannon.

He reached the restaurant foyer. She'd slipped in here. Quickly scanning the tables . . . no she wasn't there. Where the hel-'Ah!', the door to the fire stairs closed with a soft click; so soft he'd almost missed it.

Racing up the stairs three at a time, he was getting a sense of déjà vu - No! He wouldn't (he couldn't) think of that! He had to catch her. And soon. Rhiannon could probably run all day; she had the trophies to prove it. Taylor, on the hand, couldn't keep up with her much longer if she kept going up these stairs!

Nearly dropping from exhaustion, Taylor yanked open the roof door.
"Rhiannon?" he looked up. His eyes widened and his heart jolted in fear. "Rhee! NO!!" calmly, Rhiannon stepped off the lip of the building.
In a blind panic, Taylor bolted across the roof and threw his hand down over the 3 foot high wall. He froze.

There was nothing there . . .

No body lying broken at the foot of the building . . .

No people screaming in horror . . .

No blood . . .

No nothing . . .

His pulse pounded at his temples, he could hear the blood rushing in his ears. Gasping, his legs gave out, and he sank down the concrete wall to the concrete floor.

One hand clenched at his forehead, the only sounds he could make were those mutated by fear. He was trembling.

What was happening to him?

No nothing . . .

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