Ever Since New York

I

E V E R S I N C E N E W Y O R K

The morning was cold and dusky as I sat in my long Barcelona Chair, and took a small sip of my piping black coffee. It was my first day back in New York, and I was itching at the thought of having to leave the hotel. This despairing concealed hotel.

"Harry, are you in?" Lincoln, one of my newest body guards taps on my bedroom door. I was in no mood for his bothersome comments. Yet I had no choice.

"Yes."

He waddles through the door and over to me as I stare at the gloomy sky, "How come you aren't ready? We leave for a photo shoot in ten minutes!" He says irritated.

"Wait.. I have to get myself ready?" I lounge deeper into the chair, "Since when?"

"They'll do your makeup and hair, but you have to wear that new outfit the designer made for you," he prowls over to the closet and pulls out a red, floral shirt, "Put this on, your pants and boots are in the corner of the room. Just hurry."

As he leaves the dark room I groan. Why was this my life? All I ever wanted to do was sing. But of course I signed a contract. And couldn't disobey any of the authority's.

Five minutes later I was ready. And this guy named Mike and Reggie drove me to some studio for a photo shoot. A photo shoot I didn't want any part of.

  I watched as fans scream, and ask for pictures. I couldn't deny, they where the reason I was in this place. A place anyone would die to be in. But oddly, I was still unhappy. Which made me a selfish person... right?

  "Harry, good to see you," a short man applauds, "Your dressing room is right over there, people will be in to do your hair and makeup."

  I don't respond, I give him a thumbs up and slowly walk over to a door that had my name written on it. This is it.

  I went through the same drill as usual, as two girls did my makeup and hair and I'd slowly fall asleep. They'd have to awake me, awkwardly. And I'd still be in the same pissed off mood.

  "Okay Harry, stand right on that x," the camera man directs, and I quiver on top of the tapped x, "Smile, and put your hands on your hips."

  I did as told.

  "Great job, now kneel to the ground," directions went on for another twenty minutes, and I was already bored. Bored of being told what to do.

  "Harry, just remember, you can go out for lunch after this," and be attacked by fans? Great.

  After the photo shoot we did go to lunch, and it exhausted me even more being out in the cloudy sky's of New York and having the paps follow me everywhere. They must learn personal space one way or another.

  "Harry, how are your songs coming along?" one asks, and of course I ignore. "What will be the first one to come out?"

  "Please get out of my face?" I ask nicely, knowing they would turn it in to something violent and dumb.

  "Harry, what brings you to New Yor—"

  "Get the fuck out of my face! Learn some respect. And before you start telling me it's your job. Find a job that doesn't involve ruining people's lives. You should be ashamed of yourself," who knew I had it in me.