someone
from the crowd yelled.
The car moved slowly while fans were screaming
out his name and running next to it as it moved. Patrick leaned down and
touched hands with several of them. As soon as they were close enough, the
journalists started yelling.
"What are you hoping to find here on Fanoe,
Patrick?"
Patrick grinned and took off his sunglasses. The
girls in the crowd squealed with joy. Patrick winked at the female journalist.
"Love," he said with a deep voice.
"I hope to find faith, hope, and love…and some great talent of
course!" Then he winked again and put the sunglasses back on with a wide
smile. He put his arms up in the air and yelled into the crowd:
"What do you say, Fanoe? Do we have some
real Shooting Stars here on the island?"
The crowd went wild. The loud screaming drowned
out everything. Patrick laughed. It was like that everywhere he went—and
he loved it.
The car moved slowly through the crowd and
Patrick managed to touch hands, blow kisses, and even sign autographs on arms
and in books. His producer handed him a stack of signed pictures that he threw
out among the teenagers who grabbed them and held them to their chests like
prized possessions.
"Had enough yet?" Hanne asked from the
driver's seat.
Patrick bent down, sighed and looked at the huge
crowd through the front window of the car. "Not yet," he said.
"They really love me."
"Must be great," Hanne said
emotionless while looking at her fingers.
Patrick heard the crowd start to chant his name
to make him poke his head out of the car again.
"Patrick, Patrick,
Patrick."
He giggled inside the car while waiting for the
right moment. It was all about timing. Making them want more, keeping them
thirsty.
"Patrick, Patrick,
Patrick!"
Once the chanting reached a crescendo, he knew
they were almost ready. They were craving it now.
"Patrick, Patrick, Patrick!"
Almost there. They were almost at the point of
giving up, thinking he wasn't going to come back up.
"Patrick, Patrick,
Patrick!" they chanted even louder.
Patrick waited just a second longer, then put
his arm up through the sunroof and gave them all the finger. The crowd went
wild. The screaming wouldn't stop. Patrick laughed. It worked every time. It
was his famous signature move. Originally from when the press was always
following him around in the beginning, when he had just started doing the show,
snooping in his private life, speculating that he might be gay (which they
still wrote, but Patrick had stopped caring about).
Running from the paparazzi didn't help—he
learned that lesson soon enough—but just standing there, giving them the
finger, gave them a picture they could sell and then they would leave him
alone. So in the beginning all the magazines and papers were filled with
Patrick giving the entire world the finger. His producers had told him it was a
bad idea, that the public wasn't going to like it, that he was destroying the
image of the show. But they were wrong. The people proved them wrong. Screaming
teenagers soon showed up to the auditions showing the finger to every camera.
It was the youths' rebellion against the boring lives their parents had created
for themselves. These kids wanted more. They wanted to make more of themselves.
They wanted to be stars. They all wanted what Patrick had. They wanted to be
famous enough to give the world the finger once and for all— and get away with it .
Chapter 16
July 1997
It was hard for
Nina to keep her tears back as she followed Sergei to
the car parked outside the apartment building. It was daytime outside but the
clouds were heavy and grey. It was cold, too. Nina was freezing in her summer
dress.
The car was small and he put her in the
backseat. Sergei started the engine and they drove off. Nina stared out the
window and didn't say a word for hours. She looked at the strange houses that
looked nothing like they did on the island. That was when she realized that she
had to have been taken away from the island. Her
from the crowd yelled.
The car moved slowly while fans were screaming
out his name and running next to it as it moved. Patrick leaned down and
touched hands with several of them. As soon as they were close enough, the
journalists started yelling.
"What are you hoping to find here on Fanoe,
Patrick?"
Patrick grinned and took off his sunglasses. The
girls in the crowd squealed with joy. Patrick winked at the female journalist.
"Love," he said with a deep voice.
"I hope to find faith, hope, and love…and some great talent of
course!" Then he winked again and put the sunglasses back on with a wide
smile. He put his arms up in the air and yelled into the crowd:
"What do you say, Fanoe? Do we have some
real Shooting Stars here on the island?"
The crowd went wild. The loud screaming drowned
out everything. Patrick laughed. It was like that everywhere he went—and
he loved it.
The car moved slowly through the crowd and
Patrick managed to touch hands, blow kisses, and even sign autographs on arms
and in books. His producer handed him a stack of signed pictures that he threw
out among the teenagers who grabbed them and held them to their chests like
prized possessions.
"Had enough yet?" Hanne asked from the
driver's seat.
Patrick bent down, sighed and looked at the huge
crowd through the front window of the car. "Not yet," he said.
"They really love me."
"Must be great," Hanne said
emotionless while looking at her fingers.
Patrick heard the crowd start to chant his name
to make him poke his head out of the car again.
"Patrick, Patrick,
Patrick."
He giggled inside the car while waiting for the
right moment. It was all about timing. Making them want more, keeping them
thirsty.
"Patrick, Patrick,
Patrick!"
Once the chanting reached a crescendo, he knew
they were almost ready. They were craving it now.
"Patrick, Patrick, Patrick!"
Almost there. They were almost at the point of
giving up, thinking he wasn't going to come back up.
"Patrick, Patrick,
Patrick!" they chanted even louder.
Patrick waited just a second longer, then put
his arm up through the sunroof and gave them all the finger. The crowd went
wild. The screaming wouldn't stop. Patrick laughed. It worked every time. It
was his famous signature move. Originally from when the press was always
following him around in the beginning, when he had just started doing the show,
snooping in his private life, speculating that he might be gay (which they
still wrote, but Patrick had stopped caring about).
Running from the paparazzi didn't help—he
learned that lesson soon enough—but just standing there, giving them the
finger, gave them a picture they could sell and then they would leave him
alone. So in the beginning all the magazines and papers were filled with
Patrick giving the entire world the finger. His producers had told him it was a
bad idea, that the public wasn't going to like it, that he was destroying the
image of the show. But they were wrong. The people proved them wrong. Screaming
teenagers soon showed up to the auditions showing the finger to every camera.
It was the youths' rebellion against the boring lives their parents had created
for themselves. These kids wanted more. They wanted to make more of themselves.
They wanted to be stars. They all wanted what Patrick had. They wanted to be
famous enough to give the world the finger once and for all— and get away with it .
Chapter 16
July 1997
It was hard for
Nina to keep her tears back as she followed Sergei to
the car parked outside the apartment building. It was daytime outside but the
clouds were heavy and grey. It was cold, too. Nina was freezing in her summer
dress.
The car was small and he put her in the
backseat. Sergei started the engine and they drove off. Nina stared out the
window and didn't say a word for hours. She looked at the strange houses that
looked nothing like they did on the island. That was when she realized that she
had to have been taken away from the island. Her
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