I have to admit I’m mildly surprised when I get there.  It’s relatively quiet and cozy in the room I’m ushered into.  Everything is, for the most part, ordinary looking.  There doesn’t seem to be any real frills to the place.  And that normalcy has caught me off guard.  Considering that we’re in a penthouse suite in one of the most prestigious hotels in the world, and that a night in this place probably costs more than I make in a year, I didn’t expect normal.  In fact I expected chaos.  But it’s far from that.

     Instead of the flurry of commotion and the entourage of people I was half expecting, it’s relatively quiet around here.  There doesn’t seem to be any diva commands going on, no rushing of personal assistants muttering under their breath, not even subtle traces of room service carts.  To put it bluntly, the air in the room, well it’s regular.  My interviewee, it seems, is relatively modest.  And for a woman whose name has been thrown around in the papers so often she might as well start charging for its use, that’s quite a feat. 

     At first glance, with her long brown hair loose around her shoulders and dressed quite casually in a floral skirt and a dark green spaghetti strap top that brings out the color of her eyes, she looks like the girl next door.  And if I didn’t know any better, I’d probably assume that the woman in front of me was an everyday twenty something, someone you’d probably encounter at a Starbucks or on a college campus.  But of course, I do know better.  This girl isn’t your everyday Frappachino drinker.  Her name is Aliesa Montaine, and she’s pop music’s latest critical darling.  

     “You must be from Rolling Stone,” she greets me warmly as she gets up from where she’s been sitting, talking quietly with a woman who is later introduced to me as “the one who keeps me working”, best friend and publicist Shannon Riveria.  “How’s your day been going?” she asks politely, her tone radiating friendliness, approachability, and for someone who’s been pushed into the limelight this fast, surprisingly no pretentiousness.   

     So upon introduction I feel obligated to be completely honest when I tell her I’m completely swammped.

     “I can relate to that,” she admits as she shakes my hand. “Mine’s been pretty hectic too.”  Aliesa explains how she’s been cooped up inside doing press stuff.  And as she toddles on and on about how she can’t wait to go outside and bask in the sunshine, I wonder for a moment if this girl’s for real.

     There is an air of grace and delicacy surrounding Aliesa Montaine.  She’s also, I find as we continue to have idle chitchat, very candid for a celebrity.   I tell her so.

     “Sorry to be disappointing.  I’m so boring I know.  I really should throw a diva fit one of these days,” she muses.  “Seriously though… I’m not that wonderful.  I can actually be quite a pain.  Just ask Shannon.”  She points over to her friend.  “Just the other day she was complaining about me,” Aliesa offers as an example.  She leans forward,  “Make sure you get that one down…quotes and everything, with big bold letters.  I’m awful to work with.”  She pauses.  “And to live with.” 

     I take that moment to inform her that’s not what Ritchie says. 

     Aliesa grins at the mention of her infamous husband.  (You may have heard of him.  He's in a little group called Five.)  “You interviewed the guys a couple of weeks ago didn’t you?” After confirming that I have, Aliesa nods knowingly.

     “And he really said that?” 

     I reply that he and the other guys had nothing but good things to say about her. 

      “Well I’m sure they paid you to tell me that didn’t they?” she teases.  I vehemently deny it and slather on the compliments, and Aliesa just laughs them off, brown eyes wide with mischief.  “You can tell me what they really said.  Was it that bad?”  Before I can retort to that one, the cell phone beside her rings. 

      Startled, Aliesa tentatively eyes it, letting it ring for another moment or two before lifting it up to eye the Caller ID.   In a split second her smile has widened, an obvious indicator that it’s a call she wants.  I’m assured of that reasoning when she quietly asks if I mind if she answers.  Barely a motion from me that it’s fine is all it takes for her to pick up. 

     “Just thinking about you,” she greets the person on the other end of the line before bursting out in a giggle. 

     That’s the point Shannon subtly informs me that she must be talking to Ritchie because  “she’s glowing”.   I take a glance.  She is indeed, “glowing.”  Another small giggle escapes Aliesa’s lips, and Shannon tilts her head accordingly, “Definitely Ritchie,” she confirms as Aliesa smiles even more.  We both watch her amused. 

     Emotions splay across her face with each word.  Aliesa Montaine falls into the animated talker category. 

     “I’m in the middle of an interview…Rolling Stone!  Remember?  I am…” Her smile fades a little, and an eyebrow rises upwards.  “Oh really?” Aliesa fingers the couch material before biting a fingernail.  A nervous habit, she admits to me later on that afternoon, that she is trying to break.  “Wait, let me ask.”  Lifting her finger from her mouth, Aliesa looks over at Shannon,  “Are we doing a joint interview later this week?” she inquires.  Shannon gives her a brief nod and Aliesa is back to her conversation with Ritchie.  “You’re right…Are not…maybe… Ritchie!”  She exclaims.  Looking over at Shannon and I, a blush starts at her cheeks, a very attractive shade of red, when she realizes how loud she’s being.  “Ritchie…” she repeats, a little softer.  The blush however remains on her face.  “Ritchie.  You’re holding up my interview.”  A smile replaces the blush.  “Oh do you?” she singsongs, before breaking into a fit of laughter that rings out in the quiet room.  “Me too…say hi for me.”  She whispers a quick “of course,” and on that note, the hold she’s had on the phone drops.  Her eyes scan over to me apologetically,  “Sorry.  He has the worst sense of timing,” she explains. “And he rambles,” she adds lightheartedly.   “What were we talking about before he interrupted?”

     I remind her that we were in fact talking about Ritchie.