twenty
There are those days where I want to lay in bed and watch Breaking Bad until I can't keep my eyes open.
While I'm on tour, I can't have those days. It sucks.
It's hard to imagine what it's like for Luke. I begin to understand why he's the way he is. He doesn't have an off day, ever. It's working, working, working, then some more working. He can't breathe, he can't relax. He has no opportunity to take a deep breath and go, "I've made it".
Luke was having another bad day. This day, though, turned into a bad show.
Alex patted my back as we both watched hell break loose on stage. "I think you should go to the bus."
"What?" I asked, turning my head to face him, "Why?"
"When Luke has a bad show, you don't want to be near." Alex rested his hand on my shoulder. "I'm just trying to give you a warning."
I shrugged, knowing that I had to write anything and everything that I was approved to write. Tabloids were building up anticipation for this article because they wanted to know about the garbage life of garbage celebrities so that they can put garbage content up on their garbage blogs. I can be quoted on that, for real.
Luke waved to the audience as he began to take a few steps back towards side stage. His drummer finished his drum solo and the lights flashed to black. Luke turned around and darted off stage. He didn't see me, he stormed right next to me and down the steps to backstage.
I followed quickly, not wanting to miss a single second. I wanted to write about everything, even if it meant deleting a full three pages later on. I was put on this planet to write.
I could hear mumbling of scolding, Alex's low register nagging at Luke. I walked closer and could hear Luke screaming, much louder and at a much different tone.
"I want to be alone!" Luke yelled, inches away from his manager's face.
"We have to get on the bus in five hours and you're not packed!" Alex crossed his arms over his chest, standing up straighter. He didn't have much height to Luke, but he had layers of muscle to Luke.
He wasn't trying to threaten Luke, just trying to remind him of who Luke actually was. Luke was an artificial product of Alex. Alex practically raised Luke.
Luke rolled his eyes, taking a step back. "You're such a dick," he spat.
I watched Alex bite his tongue and start counting through some breathing exercises that I'll never be able to figure out. I took slow steps into the backroom, sliding onto the leather couch and staying as silent as I could possibly be.
Luke took off his grey tee shirt, stained with sweat from the previous 90 minutes. He slid on a matching white one, I'm pretty sure all of his clothes came in a pack.
"Where are you going?" Alex asked as Luke started to grab his phone and wallet from the coffee table in the center of the room.
I curled my feet up to my body, as if they were taking up too much space on the couch made for four.
"I'm going to go find someone to bang."
"Lucas," Alex said the name of his employee as if it were cursing the ground we walk on, "your publicists will freak the fuck out if they find out about another groupie incident."
Luke shrugged and looked up at his manager with daring blue eyes. "Then they won't find out."
"I will tell them."
Luke shrugged once more as he began walking towards the door. He paused, turning around to look straight at Alex. "I dare you to tell them, Alexander. I dare you to tell them all the fucking shit I've done in the last week. Guess who they're going to fire?" Luke tilted his head and raised his eyebrows, a smile on his lips as he knew that he was about to win this one. "You," he responded, "you're getting the knife, I'll get a good slap on the wrists."
He walked out, just like that.
There was nothing else.
Alex didn't try to stop him, no one did. There was some point where everyone had to give up for the night.
Luke was an adult, capable of making his own decisions—even if they were bad ones.
Alex was stunned for a few seconds. He closed his eyes and sighed out. "Fine," he whispered under his breath.
He sat down on the floor, grabbing Luke's items and getting them into his various bags. He folded Luke's clothes, wrapped up his computer cord, did everything for Luke.
"Can you not write about that?" Alex asked quietly.
The room was pretty silent with just him and I sitting. The air felt tight, tension able to be cut with a knife.
"Of course, what part do you want me to take out?"
"All of it, please." He closed a suitcase, opening up the next to squeeze Luke's shoes in. "I know this is your job, but I don't want to get fired for—."
"It's fine," I interrupted.
He looked up, giving me a soft smile.
I gave him one back.
What do you think of Alex?
Why is Luke acting like this? Does he have an excuse?
