How I became a Successful Business Woman from being Unsuccessful in Love...

Chapter 4

"It is going to be a huge concert tonight. The tickets were sold out months ago. Enrique, are you excited? " asked my agent while taking a sip of the champagne on one of my private planes.

The Boeing 777 that I own, is as luxurious as one could hope for. It has a large master suite, oversized reclining chairs, gold accents, and a marble bathroom. The central section includes an open living area with an entertainment lounge, a bar, and an opulent and extravagance-filled formal dining room. When I have time during a flight, I usually spend it working out in my private office or at the gym. There are times when I don't require company so my guests have their mini-suites in the aft section.

I didn't bother to reply. I know Ronald is only trying to start a conversation, but I am not in the mood for casual chit-chat with anyone. Concerts... They are meaningless to me now. It's only a place for the agents, record companies, and concert promoters to use me and make money out of me. Because I am a celebrity, people adore me for my talent and want to be like me. I have fame, money, and the most beautiful girls by my side. Everything one can crave for, and I have it all. I have people gathered in large crowds who want to take a picture with me, girls who want to sleep with me, and they will do anything to share a moment of glory with me. Then why do I feel lonely in a crowd? I don't have real friends; I don't have a family; I don't have love...

The wheel touched down. There was a vast crowd waiting behind the metal fence for Enrique. There had to be two dozen photographers out there, with another bunch of people behind them, probably hoping for autographs. They were all waiting for me to step off the plane. The moment I got out, they started yelling and going crazy. For me, having my own private plane is all about flexibility and discretion, so I can choose when to fly or drive up the aircraft just before take-off and have privacy from the eyes of the media and fans. Someone must have leaked the information about this flight.

"Sorry about the unwanted attention. I will speak to the airport and make sure it doesn't happen again," said Ronald.

Enrique nodded and tried not to feel irritated that people had the right to invade his privacy. I walked down the path to the waiting limousine, acknowledging my fans with a nod and wave. We soon arrived at the O2 arena in London. The driver drove around towards the back of my dressing room. As I got out, my eyes were blinded by the flashes of the photographer's cameras. A reporter was trying to ask me some questions. Feeling irritated now, my security took over and cleared the way to my dressing room.

I took out a glass, poured some whiskey on the rocks, and drained it all in one go. They love my songs; they say my songs take them to a different place. They connect with it. They feel it. They feel it because I felt it too. They come from within; they come from the broken pieces of my heart. And every time I go to my concert, I need that feeling to inspire me to sing. To let go of everything, no rules, no boundaries, where nothing is wrong or right...

Singing is something I was always good at. Writing and singing come naturally to me. I love to sing and challenge myself to reach new heights. reaching higher notes, experimenting with beats and 'expressing my feelings through words.' I never thought that my singing could become so popular with the world. When I was young, I wanted to travel, see the world, and be a part of new cultures. I used to write/sing/paint/ click photographs because I like doing these things. They help me express my feelings and see the world in a different light. But I never knew that when I became famous and reached the top, I would have no one to celebrate it with, at least no one that mattered. I put the glass away; I rest my head against the headrest, close my eyes, and go back to a time when things were different...

Enrique sits at the table of a friend's birthday party, Jacob Spencer. Jacob's wife, Katherine, leaned over and kissed Enrique on the cheeks to welcome him to the party. Enrique winked playfully at the honey blonde. Never mind that Jacob and Enrique had been best friends most of their lives, instinct – and Enrique's notorious bachelor status – had Jacob slip an arm around Katherine anyway.