Chapter 5: Rebel
1089 Words
Julian.
Breaking out of the harsh sea of reporters, out of the door and into the dashing Westcliff sunlight, I paused for a deep breath. Henry doesn't come out right after me even though I could swear I saw him coming behind me from my peripheral vision.
I haven't even gotten used to breathing air that wasn't infested with reporters with mics in my face when I spot another swam outside.
They were seated under a huge tree close to the literary center's entrance. There are a few seconds left before they figure out I am the one they came for.
They got to me before I got to my car.
“Do you think your career will ever remain the same after—”
I push my fist in the reporter's face, but not quite making contact. The proximity of my fist to his face earned me some silence amongst them to speak. Knowing who they were, it was probably not a good sign. But then again, all the care died in there after I f****d it up with the other reporter.
“Do you think your face would remain the same if my fist came in contact with that rodent face?”
The man takes an immediate step back.
“Exactly.”
The remaining distance to my car was a very brief walk. Soon, I was behind the shield of my Dot Charger. With the tinted screen on all windows and The drums playing on my radio, I found a way to sort of…relax?
I mean, It was better than being swarmed by thirsty reporters.
Like a light bulb over my head, I recall I had a blunt rolled up in the glove box compartment. I dived for it and set it on fire.
After a third deep drag, I finally feel the ticking in my skull calming down and all the anger slipping away. But not the thought of a fake marriage. That one was too crazy to leave anytime soon.
Turning on my phone with the intention of calling Henry. Instead, I'm being overwhelmed again by notification pings, popping off one after the other without a second breathing space.
I immediately turn it off and toss my phone in the back. My high took a nasty blow from the disorientation. So I dragged more to compensate.
The passenger door opened and slammed shut. Without needing to confirm who it was, I started the car and drove into the street.
“You made a bigger mess, Julian…” Henry sighed.
That was when I spared a glance in his direction. He looked slightly defeated.
“You are exaggerating. They will get over—”
“Does this look like anything is getting better?!” He suddenly has his phone up to my face.
“Hey, I am driving!”
It didn't stop him from shoving it in my face regardless. I took my time to strategically look at his phone from the road when I knew it would be safe.
Two parts are highlighted. The name of the publishing company I signed to, Gold leaf. And the word ‘Discontinuation’.
A writer would always tell you about chills crawling up the spine of his characters. Today, it was my turn.
“A month?!!”
Henry took the phone away. His face in a deep frown and he wasn't saying anything to me.
“Henry, they are giving me a month to fix up sales to how they were last year?? The book just got released, I can't make everybody suddenly be smart enough to know that I was just a troll.”
My voice rose over the music playing. My hand tighten around the steering wheel, turning my knuckles pale.
“You are lucky you got a month. Randy Rashall was dropped immediately after the homophobic press talk. We have to make most of the time—”
“I am not doing a fake marriage with a modern day little miss sunshine.” I state out clearly, knowing exactly what he would say next.
“Look, Modern-day little miss sunshine and you are pretty much in the same boat right now. Both of you have fast sinking career and a join like this would eventually spice up everything. Your pale ass gloomy self, combined with her sweet charms could just be what your fans need to see again to show you are capable of some feelings toward good natured people.” Henry's persuasion was beginning to make sense.
I wasn't a ball of sunlight, that's for sure. But I have no interest in being turned into one.
“I am not going to be a social media slave. I am not going to perform for ‘fans’ who don't care to really know me.”
“Then get ready to be homeless. Mortgage is due in four months. Bills will pile up. You would move out into the street and the rest of the fairytale of what your life could have been would burn up right before your eyes.”
Henry sighed deeply, massaging the bridge of his nose.
“I need to stop here.” Henry suddenly says in a low voice.
“We haven't even gotten to the house yet—”
“I am going to the publishing company to buy your ass some time. That's what taking responsibility looks like, since you are not willing to take it. Someone has to save you and your f*****g ego from ruining everything we have built for the last five years.”
I am too stunned to speak. No wit can save the chills his voice brought in the atmosphere. He won't even look my way.
In silent guilt, I pull over by the curb. He came down and didn't even turn around for some sort of formal bading of goodbye. He just left.
Leaving me in my own thoughts too.
I took another hit at the half blunt left. Slowly and gradually, the idea of a fake marriage was spinning into something that could possibly be my reality for the next—only God knows how long.
The fixation on my gaze on Henry's blank message box soon blurred from not blinking for a while. I eventually blinked and tears spilled out onto my phone screen. They were sad tears, just tears.
It took some time to come up with the right message to send to him. I could not imagine being on bad terms with Henry.
Dinner at my place. Let's talk.
- Writer
