Pop Singers, Am I Right?

Chapter 2: Nice to Meet You, Am I Right?

Super lengthy chapter lol, with a guest apperance of Tam, Keefe, Stina, and Biana

Fitz POV

"Alvar, I think we went the wrong way." My girlfriend says from the front seat.

My brother shook his head, "I'm pretty on top of it. I know-that's a dead end, never mind."

We were heading on our way to The Silver Fox Studio, and I was making a mental list of everything that I might get asked about. Babies, Albums, Shoes, and Babes. That was the four categories of topics. They can't legally talk about sex until I'm 25, but in a year, I'll be able to add the Sex category. Honestly, interviews were a pain in the ass and though I loved my fanclub, the girls got a bit out of hand sometimes. When I say a bit I mean a lot and when I say sometimes I mean every time I'm seen in public. My girlfriend was one of them. Sophie. She's a famous actress but she's also crazy. Yes, I can admit that to you, but to the public? Never. Sophie and I are together for the money, but Sophie thinks because of that she can treat me like shit. Not a great relationship, but I'm stuck with the princess.

I've felt ever since I became famous that everything's been chosen for me. What I eat, what I do, what I say...it's all up to good ol' Alvar and Mr. Forkle, my record label guy. The only thing I have control over is what I sing. I released an album last year that went gold, and I went on a Lost Cities Tour, which was pretty awesome. I know that 85% of my fans are there for the music, which comforts me a bit. The rest are there for drama. Which is unsettling. But thats how fandoms work, I guess.

"Fitz, do you even know where we're going?" Sophie asks, for some reason hooking me into this argument that I wasn't necessarily involved in.

"Honestly, I'm not supposed to know and no one told me." I say, combing the hair out of my face.

"You guys are useless." Sophie rolls her eyes.

"Do you know where we're going, Sophie?" I ask, being semi-passive aggressive.

"Shut up."

"This is an interview for both of us, isn't it?"

"Will you quit it, Fitz? No one cares." She crosses her arms and pouts, which she does on stage for the looks but she looks like a constipated raccoon when she makes that face.

I want to argue more but I'm too tired to try. I check my phone, and I wish I had someone to text. Alvar, Biana, and I wanted to become rich. We worked together, not really trusting anyone else. But Biana and I got super famous instantly. So we didn't make any friends on the way to fame. No one to talk to without knowing if they were a friend or someone just trying to make their way into a headline. But Biana, being herself, befriended some of her fans and a couple fashion designers. Meanwhile, I got stuck with a demon girlfriend and zero friends.

After another thirty minutes, Alvar pulls up the car to what I assume is Silver Fox Studio and I feel the nerves settle in. I've done a few interviews in my life, and they are never fun. As I step out of the car, I hear the voices of girls shrieking for my attention. In school, I had a fanclub as well, but the Fitz Finatics take it one step too far. Of course, they don't call themselves that. They call themselves the Vackies, which just sounds like some kind of sad sex toy that needs to charge every five minutes.

Silver Fox Studio is prettier than I imagined. The outside looks like EPCOT and is shiny and metallic, something out of a robot's dream. The inside is like a huge auditorium, which is kind of what I expected. Reporters are already filling in, and I quickly flip up my hood so no one asks me anything. But, of course, SOMEONE has to see a tuft of my black hair from under my hood and a reporter dressed like a female Sherlock Holmes comes up to me.