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[color=FF94E2][i]”Do you remember when we said our goodbyes?
Don’t worry, when you grow up your heart dies.
Like a ticking of a clock I hear,
A heart, a beat, a song when you are near.
It’s our reunion, can you still sing for me?
Like John, Paul, George and Ringo will you just tell me to let it be?

If I could feel, like I used to feel,
I would be happy, sad, enraged and on it.
A million miles a million years later,
A boy still sees a girl riding a comet. 

Maybe this is just a dream.
Maybe we’re still asleep. 
Maybe you haunt me like a ghost.
Or maybe it’s just the smell of your leather coat that’s making this song fucking shit!”[/i][/color]

Max felt the need to slam his head down onto the piano that the hotel had so gracefully allowed him to play. He had been trying to write this damn production for three months and he felt like he was getting nowhere. Having just finished up his time in Hamilton, Maxi felt it was the right time to take a stab at writing his magnum opus and it wasn’t going well. 

For months he had pretty much spent his entire time locked in his apartment, staring at a typewriter once owned by Stephen Sondheim! He had taken every drug he could think of, downed as much coffee and alcohol that his body could handle and he had fucked and fondled every willing man or woman he picked up on his in frequent trips to the store but nothing seemed to strike him in the way of inspiration.

Max had found the story he wanted to tell; it was something that the likes of Broadway hadn’t ever seen. It was the story of Wolf and Fox, the Nightsisters, two young women in a small New England town as they grapple with a terrible event purportedly at their school. The story was a real one which Maxi had uncovered during a visit to his cousins in Boston. Something about this dark, sordid tale really resonated with him and he began furiously typing that very day; yet now he could barely come up with a sentence. 

He was debating flying back to Florida anyway, it had been far too long since he had seen Rico or Spike or any of the friends he left behind; so when an invitation to a King's Academy reunion landed in his inbox, the timing could not have been better for the showstopper himself.  There were a lot of faces that he was looking forward to seeing once he arrived back in his old stomping grounds and if any inspiration could come from the sights and sounds of long forgotten memories, then he was all for it and if there was any sleazing to be done, then that was just the icing on the cake as far as Max was concerned because he had done some Insta stalking and his class grew up hot.

Realistically, Max could’ve stayed at his other house, the one he shared part time with his cousin Rico and his brother from another mother Spike. Yet there was some enticing about the isolation of a hotel. He could lock himself away in a strange place and go all Jack Torrance or alternatively he could write a character lauded as the next Holden Caulfield. Either way, staying in this place was an alluring phenomenon. From what he could gather, Max was also one of, if not the first, to arrive. Usually a diva such as himself would be fashionably late but if he was going to do this thing right, he had to do it, the Maximum Bedlam way. Work hard, party harder.

[color=FF94E2]”Fuck it”[/color]

The Mayor of Sleaze City necked the champagne that sat on the table beside the piano before clicking his fingers at the overworked, underpaid and dare he say, jailbait looking waitress. She made her way over to the performer with a fake smile and no feeling behind her eyes. [color=FF94E2]”Darling, three things”[/color] Max placed his hands down to his side and offered her a genuine smile. [color=FF94E2]”Thank you. You are doing really well serving all these rich bitches and keeping a straight face. I couldn’t do it”[/color] As if awakening from a trance, the waitress’s eyes widened and her lips began to curl into a small, almost childlike smile [color=FF94E2]”Two. Speaking of, can I get a tray, yes a tray, of tequila shots…oh and an old fashioned”[/color] She took out her notepad and scribbled down his order before he finished his thoughts. [color=FF94E2] Finally, you are rocking that uniform. I mean, your ass? Good God. Work what your mama gave you, sweet pea and you’ll get a lot of cash money tips. I’m not talking about whoring yourself. Just use that hip game. Hear what I’m saying? Yeah, you do, ok. Get out of here queen, you’re fabulous, I love you”[/color] With a red flush and burning, the waitress headed off back to the bar, with a slight more noticeable wiggle in her movements.

With a smile across his face, Max polished off another champagne flute before he began a slow melodic tube on the piano.

[color=FF94E2]”On with the show”[/color]