Downfall Of Amplification -Phan-

new pastel yellow

I lean back in my chair and sigh holding up my cup of coffee to my lips. From the view of my window, I can see all of London. I should be happy right now. I should be on top of the world. I have good money, good fame but it's dry. My coffee is too hot and it almost hurts to drink it, I do anyway.

I rest my mouth on the cover and try not to think of anything, to just let my thoughts wander. To try and weave my way through the cobwebs of my mind. My head was so much clearer when I was younger. What changed? The pressure? The fame? What made me stop being me? For all the fans know I'm still the same person. That I will run onto stage with my shaggy hair and beat up guitar singing about dumb teenage things. Well, maybe the shaggy hair part. I run my hands through my curly hair letting my fingers pull at the edges. Haven't cut it in months.

A knock at the door interrupts my thoughts. My lip still resting on the coffee cover, hand still in hair I turn my chair with my feet.

In front of me stands a tall boy, nothing really interesting about him. He seems intense, his skin light and hair much too dark for it. Behind him stands Mike with a gleaming look of... pride? I slowly lift my mouth from my cup and untangle my hand from my hair, looking at Mike for an answer.

"This is Phil, he's your assistant," Mike explains and I want to gouge my eyes out. I told him no assistant. He never listens. I sigh for probably the hundredth time today folding my other hand on top of the one occupying my coffee cup.

This boy is most likely a fan, someone who will ask for pictures with me and spread gossip, not what I need, "No." My voice is strained and I send daggers to Mike hoping the boy won't notice my impoliteness.

He does, "Sorry?" He asks sounding confused. He turns to Mike his brows knitted together, "Uh, am I not?" He's got a low even voice.

"One second, Phil." Mike places a hand on his shoulder and gently leads him out of the office. Once he is in the hallway Mike closes the door behind him and looks less than pleased with me.

I clench my teeth together and repeat myself, "No. You're not going to-"

"Dan, listen." Mike interrupts me. I get annoyed but allow him to speak, "I think this will help you. Phil is a good kid."

I roll my eyes, "How do you know him?" Because for as long as I know this kid is a serial killer.

"His mum," Mike explains in a convincing tone, "She's friends with my aunt. His mum is kinda psycho, so is my aunt so-" He trails but I lift my eyebrow at him and he continues, "Anyway. He's moved out now and is living close to here. My aunt told me they met when he went to visit his mum. She couldn't stop talking about how great he was, he's into music, like really into music. She told me he would sing to the neighbors when he was younger. Knows guitar and bass, Dan."

I shrug my shoulders, "It's not hard to find someone who knows guitar and bass."

"But Phil is a good guy," Mike argues.

"Good guys aren't hard to find either."

"Yet somehow I got stuck with you," Mike mutters under his breath and I squint my eyes at him. Insulting me obviously isn't going to help his case. Realizing this he hisses, "kidding. But I sat and had a pint with him. He's so nice. Wouldn't hurt a fly, Dan. All he talks about his how he wants to be a musician."

"Then why didn't you sign him instead," I add pursing my lips.

Mike leans his weight on his other foot, "I haven't listened to his music but-"

"What if he sucks?"

"What if he doesn't?" Mike objects, "Give him a chance, a week, although I highly doubt he will need that long to charm you over."