Free The War of Immensities by Barry Klemm

musicals. Not plastic
Hollywood with plastic throw-away careers in television and the
movies that never happened anyway. Not sleazy King’s Cross
nightclubs where all the best looking girls were guys. She didn’t
have a home to go to. No place to go. But she knew she had to go
there anyway, and right now!
    Get dressed.
She hauled her drooping ass into jeans, dragged a shirt over her
sagging tits, stuffed a handful of tabs in her pocket—didn’t matter
which. Forget the rest. Go, go, go.
    The heat
outside made her reel back against the door-jamb. The god-damned
sun was in her eyes no matter which way she turned. Where the hell
am I anyway? Whitsunday? Oh yeah. Whitsunday Passage, wherever that
was. Go. Hitch a ride and get moving. But where?
    Thataway. That
was it. South, to judge from the sun. Down Dixie? No, wrong
country. So what’s south? Not silly-bloody Sinny—hate the god-awful
place. Tasmania? Antarctica? Can’t go south. Can’t go any where
because you’re on an island, silly bitch. Gotta get out of the sun
at least. Coffee. Go to the cafe and get coffee.
    When she
glanced around, she saw there were some small boys—real ones—over
there, in the bushes, watching her. Shit! And all around, the
tourists stopped to stare at her and whisper to each other. Okay,
so now she was completely paranoid. No reason to be surprised about
that.
    She struck out
across the nicely manicured lawns with tables under the palms, the
suburban folks’ idea of paradise. People were everywhere, and all
gaping at her. Well, look on it as good publicity for her act. The
club, The Golden Dolphin—her present four week gig—was in the
lounge bar of the pub and she went that way, although only because
the coffee shop was in the same tourist complex. She marched up the
steps into the lobby, and there stood a life-size cardboard cutout
of Andromeda Starlight, Superstarlight, in glittering gown and full
song. Andromeda Fuck-anything-in-sight Starlight, star of the show,
hot from Hollywood and London and Sydney, the Windies Revenge.
    No one would
have recognised the sorry shabby individual who gave the effigy the
finger as she stalked by.
    Joel Tierney,
her agent, was there, sucking coffee. “Ho, there Andy. Back in the
land of the living.”
    “I gotta get
out of this place.”
    In reply, Joel
snapped his fingers in front of her face. “Hey, come on Babe, wake
up!”
    “I’m
awake.”
    “You sure? I
just come from explaining to the resort management how you been
under a lot of pressure and it won’t happen again.”
    “I never … What
won’t happen again?”
    “Don’t
remember, huh?”
    “Remember?
What?”
    “You were
sleepwalking…”
    “I never
sleepwalk…”
    “You did this
afternoon. There you were, bollock naked, marching down to the
beach. You did it twice. I had to grab you and drag you back to the
room both times. Caused a huge sensation.”
    “Are you
serious?”
    “Great
publicity. The bookings have doubled since….”
    At the window
of the café, young boys were staring in at her in wonder.
    “Sleepwalking.
In the buff…?”
    “Extraordinary
sight, Andy.”
    “Holy
shit.”
    “That’s what
most people that saw you said.”
    She was shaking
her head in utter disbelief, but then the new sensation flooded her
body again. “Joel, I gotta get out of here.”
    “Don’t worry
about it. Everyone’s hoping you’ll do it again…”
    “I’m serious. I
want to go. Right now.”
    “Can’t. Booked
for a month. Got ‘em queuing out to the reef.”
    The radiantly
smiling waitress hovered.
    “Gimme
coffee.”
    “Certainly,
Miss Starlight. Black or white?”
    “I don’t give a
fuck. Just give me coffee.”
    “She takes it
black with cream, sweetheart,” Tierney sleazed at the waitress.
Next victim of his despicable charm.
    “Will there be
anything else, Miss Starlight?”
    “Yeah. How the
hell do I get out of here?”
    “There’s flight
schedules on the rack by the counter...”
    “Just get