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THIRTY SEVEN: F**** FRIENDS He
was gone when I woke up this morning. I admit, I was pissed off, but just as I
concluded I was duped again, I saw a folded sheet, placed under my cell. Taken laptop. Ticket is under your cell. Come backstage tonight, show Quincy
your ticket to get it back. Later, AJ Shit. He
took my laptop. What the hell was I going to use for the article?! Maybe I could
ring him- no, he didn’t leave a number. Okay,
don’t panic. You just fucked an undeniably sexy popstar, but he doesn’t seem
to have half a brain. What
the hell am I going to do?
Okay,
okay, chill, I know, how could I take Prescott’s precious baby? But I had to,
no two ways about it. After
last time, I figure she’s gonna freak about fucking again. She’s got this
weird barrier thing that she seems to put up once she gets intimate in any way;
so I’ve taken it in my own hands and taken her laptop as ‘insurance’-
insurance so she has to see me to retrieve it. I
can’t say I’m a changed man, because I’ve got a rep to uphold, but judging
by this morning’s paper, my rep as a ‘playa popstar’ just upped a notch-I
got snapped with Louise last night. Whoo
hoo…. Kevin freaked as soon as I walked into the door. “What
is this? Another fuck friend?” “Hey,
we didn’t do shit or nothin’ okay?” “Then
‘do ‘nothin’ more discreetly, okay? They’ve got pictures, man” “Don’t
believe everything you see” I seethed. But
it’s not the stuff they see that’s important- the stuff the fans and the
press never see- man, that’s the stuff you don’t want to get out. “Management
wants to see you after recording” Not
again. So
I waltz in there, waiting for the spiel. Eric usually has more to say than is
necessary, but hey, he’s lookin’ out for us, so- “AJ,
I see you getting some sort of social life out there, paintin’ the town all
sortsa colors” “Ya
got a problem with it?” “No,
no actually I like that. What I don’t like is the reporter thing you’ve got
on the side” “I
don’t see-“ “Exactly,
AJ, you don’t see the vision” He eased up from his chair and walked up to
where I sat. Where was he going with this? “Which is why I’m the one who
keeps you focused- you do the work, I direct the vision” I
raised my eyes, surprised by where he was heading. “Like I said, I love what
you’ve done with the ‘player’ thing. Fantastic. Brilliant.” he lit up a
cigar and took a puff “But with this reporter girl, Prescott” he sucked hard
on the cigar; I could see the ashes falling like black snow onto the dark
carpeting, making this white ash. “Keep the player, ditch the relationship. It
ain’t gunna work if you have a woman on your arm. You ain’t gunna succeed” I
listened to a few more moments of this propaganda before I left his office. Minna
and I- we’re just fuck friends right? But do I want it this way? |
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