5
Adam
I got a message from Gray, our drummer, telling me that our ride was downstairs.
I chugged the rest of my coffee, feeling the instant caffeine rush pulse through my body. I always needed some kind of high to get me through the day.
I looked in the mirror one more time before I put on my leather jacket and headed down to the lobby.
Two bodyguards were already waiting when the elevator doors opened.
We walked to the front door, a swarm of fans crowded around me asking me to sign photos and CDs. One of the bodyguards was standing behind me, the other in front. They were trying to fend off the girls who sounded like squealing pigs. I grabbed a sharpie from one of my fans and I scribbled on as many things as I could before I reached the black Escalade.
All three of my bandmates were already sitting inside, and I climbed into the back seat. Gray was drumming his fingers on the back of the seat in front of him.
I gave them fist bumps and had a tight smile on my face to hide my hangover.
“Where’d you go last night?” Carson, the bassist asked.
Carson had shaggy hair down to his chin that covered part of his eyes. He was always tucking pieces of it behind his ears, even when we were performing.
“Got tired, and went back to the hotel and slept,” I lied.
The last thing I needed was more judgment from someone.
They were all pretty cool guys, but I hated how our band was created off lies.
We were marketed as four guys who started this band as teenagers. Kingdom 4 was a story about us being lifelong friends who created a band together. This whole thing was actually crafted by our producer, Simon, who was also dating my mom.
Simon was a businessman who also thought he was a lot younger than he was. He often wore white oxford shirts that he’d leave unbuttoned down his chest. God, I resented him so much but I didn’t have the balls to say it to his face.
Keaton was sitting next to me and looking out the window. He had a buzzcut. Keaton was our keyboardist, and he barely said a word most days.
I was the lead singer and the guitarist of Kingdom 4.
Performing on stage in front of a crowd was my life. But being the frontman and the face of the band was a curse as much as it was a blessing. It meant that no matter what I did, millions of people were quick to judge me for it.
Hell, Keaton could be snorting cocaine in Times Square and people wouldn’t even bat an eye. But if people saw me having more than a few drinks at a bar, the whole world would be talking about it.
The driver weaved in and out of traffic as I leaned my face against the window, feeling the coolness on my forehead. It numbed the pain in my head that was a mix of the caffeine rush and the hangover. I looked out the window as we drove past stores that looked like Christmas had vomited all over their window displays.
“Look, it’s you,” Gray said, pointing up in the sky.
I looked out onto his side and saw a huge billboard in the skyline. It was me in the new underwear ad for Calvin Klein. I felt blood rush to my cheeks.
“Nice package,” Carson said. “No wonder the ladies love you.”
He punched me playfully on the shoulder.
I looked at the black and white photo of me laying on a bed. I remembered that photoshoot, it happened only a few months ago, and they had asked me to pout and look sexy. So I did and now, it was plastered on billboards all over the city, and people had shared it many times online.
I was proud of my body. I worked hard in the gym for it. But at the same time, I knew I was destroying it with all the substances I’ve been putting in my body from all the partying.
We arrived at the TV studio for the interview. I could already see the fans waiting at the front door, with photos and posters in their hands. It was freezing and I always wondered how none of them had work or school. The Escalade circled to the back door. A man dressed in all black with a funny headset on his head opened the door to let us in.
We were escorted into the dressing room. My bandmates shared one, and I had my own. When I stepped in, I grabbed a bag of hot Cheetos sitting on the table among a mountain of other snacks that I requested.
There was a knock on my door.
“Come in,” I said, while opening the bag of Cheetos.
It was a woman holding a carrying case.
“Hi. I’m Ella, I’m going to do your makeup and hair today.”
I waved her in, and I sat in front of the vanity mirror as she pulled out all her makeup and styling products. I saw her hands were shaking.
“You nervous?” I asked.
She nodded. “Yes, this is my first time doing this myself without my supervisor, and I’m a huge fan of yours.”
“Well, don’t fuck it up,” I joked, but she must not have gotten my humor and her hands trembled even more. “I’m just kidding. You’re doing great. Here, have a Cheeto.”
I pushed the bag towards her but she declined.
She started putting a bunch of products on my face and I closed my eyes, letting her do whatever she needed to do.
I opened my eyes when I heard the door open. I could see in the mirror that it was Simon, with his smug look on his face.
He walked towards me with something in his hands.
“Hey, I know the show this Friday is going to be the last one before the holidays,” he said. “Since you’re going to perform in your hometown, I have two VIP tickets that you can give to whoever you want. They were supposed to go to someone who’d won them at a charity auction who can’t make it anymore.”
Simon handed the two tickets to me and left without saying anything else.
Who was I going to give this to?
I didn’t have any friends here, and the ones I did had drifted out of touch since this whole thing blew up.
I was better giving it to a fan waiting outside or something. That’d probably make their day. But knowing how crazy they get, I’d probably be starting a fight out there for not having more than two tickets.
That’s when I thought of Pacey again.
I could give it to him. But was it arrogant of me to think he’d be interested in going?
Maybe he could bring a date or something and make an evening out of it. Hell, these were worth at least a few hundred bucks. He could even sell them and make a profit if he wanted.
Giving him these tickets was the right thing to do after he had saved me last night.
I knew it wouldn’t solve everything that went wrong between us, but it’d be a step in the right direction.
I pulled out my phone and scrolled through my contacts, landing on Pacey’s name.
I had changed my phone maybe a dozen times over the years due to crazy stalker fans. But I’d always managed to remember to put Pacey’s number in my new phones.
I didn’t know why I did because the last time we contacted each other was six years ago. Had he not have found me last night, it could have been six more years before we spoke.
But I took a deep breath, and sent him a message, hoping he still had the same number as he did six years back. And hoping that I was making the right decision in doing this.
Hey Pace, I scored two VIP tix to the show on Friday. Want to give them to you as a thank you for what you did last night. Let me know if you want them. If not, it’s cool.
I hesitated to press send, but eventually, I manned the fuck up and I did.
It was ridiculous that I still cared what he thought of me after so many years.
But Pacey made me into the man I was today, and there was always that lingering feeling that I owed him.