To Live And Be Arrested In Burbank Part I

Ah, what a few days it has been for Trey Vincent. He sat in a Los Angeles-area hotel room, his feet up on the supplied wooden desk in a reclining chair. Slowly, Vincent lifted a bottle of Miller High-Life beer to his lips. Empty bottles of the brand were scattered all over the desk and a few had even fallen onto the floor. Hey, even if this is a roleplay, he’s still gonna drink the beer, since he’s promoting it and drinking it everywhere he goes.

Anyhow, the night was Wednesday. A day earlier some informed sources watching NBC had informed Vincent that a certain Michelle Branch was to appear on the Tonight Show with Jay Leno. Vincent was on the first plane to Los Angeles. He was Burbank bound to see Michelle Branch, the singer whose songs are fitting for adult contemporary radio channels and MTV between countless boring "Real World" shows. A woman who doesn’t dress in that certain sexual style that a Britney Spears or Christina Aguilera would.

But for some reason, he was fixated on Michelle. This was pure lust. And he couldn’t even explain why. He just knew that he wanted to marry her, wear her out and throw her away after about five years of drunken depravity. Was that so much to ask?

It all started to go wrong at NBC studios. Vincent stepped on the scene, lowered his sunglasses and scoped out the front. He wasn’t going to go in that way.

Vincent went for the back door. That’s when things started to go really wrong. He knocked on a secret door that only private investigators like himself could learn of. Security answered.

"Hey, you’re not supposed to be here," the man told Vincent.

Vincent didn’t like hearing that, so he grabbed the dude by the throat, pulled him outside and rammed his head into the wall. He gasped in horror and quickly put his foot inside the closing metal door. Saved by a toe. He pulled the door open wide and went inside.

It was time to meet Michelle and tell her the deal. She must have been busy on the road, touring, and missed the Pressure Points where Vincent declared his love and intentions, he was sure of it. Otherwise, she no doubt would have already been his and they would have eloped in a drunken stupor in Las Vegas days ago.

The halls were bustling with activity. Workers rushing to prepare things. Food being delivered. Fruit baskets, flowers and other gifts being hauled to rooms for the guests. Everyone so self-involved with trying to put on a stupid little television show that nobody even took notice of Vincent for a little while yet.

It was still early in the day, a couple hours, maybe even more, before the show was supposed to be taped. He walked around, completely lost in the backstage area, until he heard the song being played. And he went toward the source of the music.

Michelle Branch and her stupid little backup band.

He found himself in front of a large curtain. He licked his lips and put his hands on the curtains, ready to shove them wide open and show himself to her.

That’s when the badness began.

He suddenly felt a chill of metal on his right wrist.

"You’re under arrest," a man told him from behind. "For criminal trespassing and assault."

"Me?" Vincent said, playing innocent.

Vincent heard some police banter on a radio. He shook his head in disappointment at himself. Perhaps he had gone a bit far. Even as Michelle finished up her practice rendition of "Breathe", Vincent was hauled away and out of the building.

The 5.0 had him.

Fuck the police.

NEXT CHAPTER: To Live And Be Arrested In Burbank Part II >>