Andrea
I glanced back at the LAX and bid it good riddance. The lights stung my eyes so I turned back and jumped in the car. Don't you just love the way that whenever you rent a car, after you get inside it always has that new car smell to it.
It was 11:45 at night and my plane from Florida just landed in Cali about a half an hour ago. I was exhausted not only because of the rough schedule I'd been maintaining for a while now, but also because I had let myself fall asleep on the plane. It's nearly impossible to wake up after that.
Once we got off the plane, me and my mom ran to get our luggage (we only got lost for a little while) then we took off to rent a car. It took ever ounce of strength I didn't have to drag my 50 lb. suitcase everywhere.
And that's where we are now. Heading for our hotel, my mom driving and me laying down in the back. I was gonna sleep but I can't anymore. Maybe it's the lights or my nerve's or the noisy leather seats.
It's kind of exciting the way my career has been taking off, everything seems to be finally working out a little better.
We came to LA, because one day I'm gonna be a star. At least that's what Angie says. She's my manager/agent/second mother.
I guess I'm an opening act for this band, Hanson. I used to listen to them a while ago, and then they sort of just dissapeared. Angie says that they're going to be really huge again, once their new cd releases, and it wouldn't be bad if I did this. Not that I would have cared if they were just a touring garage band. Hey, a gig's a gig.
Personaly, I have no clue why they picked me. My music style is SO different. I mean, I guess I wouldn't fit in with any one group just because my list of songs that I sing...well, one is really pop, then the other is definately RnB, the other is techno and the last, my personal favorite because I wrote the whole thing, is alternative. Weird, huh?
The grueling dance rehearsal's and voice lessons seemed to be more than I could bare and finally getting out here was a relief. But everyone (such as my evil coreographer, Frank, pronounced like the currency or he goes nuts) got shipped out here too, we're just like puppets. Put them in a box and move them around the country.
What was I talking about? I was signed for maybe half of the tour...if I was lucky, and that was about 2 months.
I dozed off for the rest of the trip, about 20 minutes, when my mom started shaking me. "Come on, Andrea. Let's go upstairs and go to bed. You have a really big day tomarow."
I groaned and pushed myself up and out of the car, only a little to fast. Everything went black for a second and my mom had to grab a hold of my arm to steady me.
I miss my friends and family, and my dog. Needless to say I was grateful when Angie said my mom could come, and when she went home, Angie would be there.
Once everything focused I shut the door behind me and went back to get my suitcase out of the trunk.
"Andrea. The bell boy already came and took them. While you were sleeping I checked in. See?" Mom said waving a plastic card, I guessed to be the key, at me. Nodding, I turned and we both headed upstairs through the glass elevator.
The hallway was painted yellow, kind of like cheese. 'I don't understand why such a classy hotel would pick such an awful color and such an awful carpet. Don't they make enough money to hire an interior designer? And can't they at least paint over the spots.' I thought noticing a strange yellow spot on the wall in front of me.
'Only, this spot was moving...towards me. I crashed into it! How can you crash into a spot?' I thought. Stepping back, though, I noticed it was never a spot, but someones hair, I just neglected to see the face in my half-asleep zombie-like stage.
"Sorry." I mumbled and continued following my mom to the room.
