There she was blonde haired, sweet smiling and marvellous singing. If someone asked him whether he had fallen for her, he wouldn't give an answer. Cause for him Alice wasn't just a human. She was something really close to the Plato ideas’ world.
She was an embodiment of cuteness, feminity and strong beliefs. And even in her eyes he could read that she loves once, forever and with all her heart.
So today he was going to actualize this idea - bring Alice to his life - by presenting some flowers and trying to talk to.
He wasn't sure, whether it was a romantic feeling leading him to such actions, since the most attractive thing he found in Alice was her worldview, full of idealistic, optimistic and romantic ideas, but still his heart was racing.
He took a deep breath and knocked the make-up room’s door.
No answer.
He tried once more. The same result.
“Strange,” he thought. “The concert just ended, she couldn't go away so quickly.”
And then he heard the noise from the next room. Alice’s chuckling.
“No. No way,” crossed through his mind.
It was her producer's room, who was a really disgusting guy and even dealt drugs, that caused a lot of problems and suspicions even to Alice herself.
Jon hardly moved his legs towards the door nearby and pressed an ear against the cold metal, feeling his heart pounding in the temples.
“...and he gave you it for free?” sounded laughing male voice.
“...for girls… not free!” Alice objected.
“Fine, fine. How much?”
“Three thousands for one.”
“Did you get crazy?! You’ve got them for nothing!”
“You know, how much my “nothing” costs.”
“...ck. Ok. I’ll take two things and one “nothing”, please.”
“It's always a pleasure doing business with you,” she summed up with a smile in her voice.
But on Jon’s face the grimace of disbelief and horror had frozen and one question could be read in his eyes: “Why?”
Suddenly the door opened and bearded producer met Jon with contemptuous glance.
“What are you doing here, dude?” he asked threateningly. “Lost something?”
“...I guess,” he quietly whispered.
Jon stared at the TV. Today it was full with Alice’s face.
“...Thank you, Robby, and now to other news,” the newswoman narrated. “Bodies of a famous singer Alice Marchhare and her director Chester Madhatter were found yesterday lately at night. The main suspect - Jonathan Wonder - confessed to the crime only one hour after the incident. The suspect - who appeared to be a fan of the singer - barged into Mr. Madhatter’s room, where both victims stayed at that time, and began humiliating artists. After that he started a fight with Mr. Madhatter, severely injured him and raped Ms. Marchhare. As soon as he played enough, Mr.Wonder killed both artists and went out to smoke…”
“Are you ready to go to court, Mr. Artistkiller?” the policeman asked, blocking the screen in the cell.
“She wasn’t an artist. She wasn't an idea,” he whispered. “She was just a slut.”
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