Allistair almost always enjoyed his work. Photography was a passion for him, and getting those perfect shots filled him with an elation somewhat like the thrill of discovery.  Was he the first one to ever see this from this angle, with this lighting?  Photographing people was even more rewarding, because of the challenge of capturing some feeling or emotion in the shot; his current job, therefore, had seemed a perfect fit.

Oh, he certainly still enjoyed taking photos for NME; it was just that it was hard, sometimes, to get into shooting a band during a performance if you didn't enjoy them much.  And because of his keen eye for well-framed shots, Allistair was often assigned to get concert pics, regardless of his opinion of the band in question.  Well... if he didn't enjoy the music, at least he got in for free.

Disinterest was not a problem tonight, however.  The band, Mercury Phase, was a very strong up-and-coming act. Though they were from New York, their progressive sound had gotten a good foothold in the U.K., and their three small-venue shows in London had sold out quickly.  Allistair was enjoying the music, and would be snagging a copy of the CD as soon as he could.  His current state of distraction had nothing to do with dislike of the music; rather, he couldn't stop watching the lead singer, through the lens or with his own eyes.

Devin Mercure, for whom the band was named (was that really his last name? It was almost too poetic), had the kind of slight, elfin build that made one wonder where that powerful voice came from.  He alternately bounced and stalked around the stage, depending on the mood he was trying to convey, singing as if he were reliving every emotion that inspired the song in question.  Bright-eyed and flushed with feeling, he was like an angel -- a fallen angel, singing about the Earthly things he had forsaken Heaven for.

Allistair found the man absolutely captivating. It didn't help that, like many musicians, Mercure made the most fascinating faces while he sang; perhaps it was the nature of the performer in the midst of a perfect rendition to feel something like ecstasy, but in this case, the expressions the singer wore at times made Allistair feel more than a little turned on...

It helped even less that Mercure liked to make eyes at the audience.  Showmanship, of course, but it had given the photographer a not-unpleasant little jolt when the singer had, not once, but twice, given him coy side-glances, the second one accompanied by a charming grin during a break in the lyrics.  Maybe he had simply been playing to the camera -- and Allistair had dutifully captured the shot -- but...

Well.  Let's keep our thoughts in the realm of reality, hmm?  Not that reality kept fans from pining for the apparently untouchable singer.  He was known to flirt lightly with people of either gender, but as far as anyone knew, he'd never been in a serious relationship -- at least, not since the band's rise to fame.  Pointing out that he had never been seen keeping company with a woman, some people speculated that he was gay, but it wasn't as if he was ever spotted on dates with men, either.  Allistair had heard rumors that he was in a secret relationship with the bassist, Ellis Hargrave; the two founding members of the band had supposedly been best friends since grade school, leading some fans to wonder if their friendship was "special".  Some of their on-stage antics certainly could make one suspicious, but as far as Allistair knew, Hargrave was straight, and was seen with girls all the time.  For the fangirls, though, it was Mercure, with his strange combination of cheerful on-stage lasciviousness and offstage aloofness, who had captured their imaginations.  Surely, they reasoned, someday the right woman (or man) would come along to sweep the singer off his feet.  Some of the fanfic writers had... interesting... ideas of who would fit the bill.  Fandom, Allistair thought, not for the first time, was occasionally a frightening thing.

"Hey, gimme that for a minute, would you?"

A baritone voice snapped the photographer out of his thoughts, and he froze.  It was a break between songs, and instead of simply chatting to the crowd while the guitarists swapped their instruments, Mercure had come to the edge of the stage and was crouching down, looking at him.  Looking at me -- oh holy Hell, what do I--

The singer reached his hand out, and Allistair finally realized that he wanted the camera.  Oh, shit.  Is he going to wreck it?  Take my memory card?  What the hell?  Despite his fears, however, he couldn't resist handing his Nikon over as he tried to keep from either staring at Mercure like a moonstruck owl or laughing giddily when the man's hand lightly brushed his.  Damn.  When did I become a fangirl?

"Thanks!" the singer said with an impish grin and a wink, before bounding back to center stage.  As Allistair stood in a daze, his camera was used to take a few snapshots of the crowd, the other band members, and the stage setup before being deposited -- carefully -- on a rack near the performers' entrance.  As the music started again, the disarmed photographer stood somewhat self-consciously with his hands in his pockets.  The people near him, mostly press like himself, eyed him with a variety of expressions, ranging from sympathy to envy, but no one said anything to suggest this was something the band had done before.  The fate of his camera would remain a mystery for a while.

Eventually, he tried to relax and just enjoy the show without having to worry about taking ideal pictures.  It was a good performance, and he felt a bit less guilty for letting Mercure steal his attention, since he no longer had to catch shots of the other musicians.  Still, he worried about getting his camera back -- it wasn't cheap to begin with, and the pictures on it were possibly worth more than the device itself.  

As the concert came to a close after a three-song encore set, Allistair lingered while the rest of the crowd drifted out, hoping some stage tech would just give him his camera.  Things were not going to be so blessedly simple, however; it was Mercure himself who came out from backstage, Nikon in hand.  The photographer tried not to stare as he casually walked over and hopped down from the stage.

"Hey, sorry about that," the vocalist said with a grin that said he was anything but sorry.  "It seemed like a fun idea at the time."  He handed the camera over.

Allistair checked the device out of habit, then smiled nervously. What the hell? I'm older than he is! What am I nervous about?  "It's fine, but er, did you want the pictures you took?"  As he spoke, he fumbled to bring up previews of the impromptu shots on the camera's LCD.

"If you don't mind, yeah, I mean, it'd be cool for the tour blog and all."  Mercure stood next to him to peer at the small screen, and Allistair had to remind himself to breathe.  Sweaty from the blazing stage lights and seemingly still a little winded from the performance, the singer seemed to glow somehow, not visually, but in some... metaphysical sense.  Again, Allistair got the strange impression that this was some supernatural being confined to human form.

Great.  I'm having a religious experience over a singer.  He toggled through the snapshots Mercure had taken: canted, off-center, but perhaps good for portraying a performer's view of a show.  "D'you have a laptop or something I can dump these to?" he managed to say, proud of being able to speak coherently while the other man was leaning against him to see the pictures better.

"Yeah, but..."  The singer straightened and seemed to think something over for a moment, then grinned.  "Well, I gotta go somewhere with wi-fi to post to the blog anyway.  You wanna get a cup of coffee or something while I steal the pictures?"

Allistair blinked at him stupidly for a moment.  Is he hitting on me?  Or does he mean that completely innocently?  "Er, sure, I could use some coffee, anyway."  He meant it; if he was in Mercure's presence much longer, he might start to feel drunk.

"Awesome."  The man's accompanying grin was a little less devilish and a little more cheerful.  "I'll meet you at the box office in a few, I gotta change real quick." After Allistair nodded in understanding, he swiftly headed backstage again.

What... the hell... is going on? The photographer made his way back to the ticket windows without really paying attention to his steps.  Or is anything going on at all?  I can't even think straight right now...

Unfortunately for his peace of mind, he had the distinct feeling that the night was not going to become any easier to understand...


To be continued?