Tetris in Red

16: Tetris in the Back

16: Tetris in the Back

"READ: Rock n' Roll Superstar Alec MacSweeny Passed Out On Stage, Cause Still Unidentified"—E! Online

Alec

I open my heavy lids and look over my surroundings.

The monitor's steady beep, beep, beep invades my ears. There's a female voice speaking in the background, but the cloud in my brain is too thick to allow me to recognize it. My eyes catch someone sitting at the foot of my bed, his back and inky, black hair in a ponytail are all too familiar.

"Holland," I rasp.

He turns his head to my direction. Noticing that I'm awake, Holland rushes to my side, helping me up. "Yo, dude! The fuck. You passed out on stage while I'm three countries away? You know our training publicist ain't not up for that yet."

A grunt leaves my lips as he hands me a glass of water. He returns to his seat while the fog in my head gradually clears, finally recognizing the voice. "—speculations are all around the web. Some guesses that it may be a drug overdose, while others say MacSweeny may be experiencing serious health problems. There's also another rumor that the superstar had fainted due to emotional stress." I turn to the screen to find the picture on the reporter's right being zoomed to a redhead. My hand went to the remote. "On the other side, Tetris Posziel, his rumored girlfriend, was seen in a short distance from where Alec—"

I switch the TV off and throw the remote back on the bedside table.

Holland is silent but I can't look at him to see why. I don't want to know why. We had never talked properly since Tetris came into our lives and he never flat out denied her accusations either. I grit my teeth as I will myself to calm down, the familiar uneasiness dancing its way out of my subconscious.

"Alec—"

"Don't even try, Holland."

I yank the IV from my arm and stand up. "What are you doing—"

"Don't." There are clothes placed on the plastic chair by the corner. I went to it, assuming they are mine. A windbreaker, black shirt, and pants are there, and a pair of shoes that I'll recognize from anywhere. "Where's my phone?" Holland hands it to me without speaking.

I quickly type a text to Asia, asking him to meet me at the underground garage. He didn't ask what hospital I'm in. I assume he already knows. Maybe everyone does. I briefly wonder where Tetris and the band must be.

"I told them to stay at the hotel," Holland begins, reading my mind. "The press immediately caught a whiff of what happened. It's all over the news."

A nod.

"Alec. You have to talk to me. It's inevitable."

A reply from Asia comes through, 'parked in front of the private elevator'.

"Well, fine. You can ignore me all you want. But all we can do is move forward. Tetris already signed an agreement with me—"

I cut him off. "Tetris and I have a new agreement."

He's taken aback, his words frozen on his lips, eyes like a deer caught in headlights. Holland has a lot of pet peeve, but if there's one thing—one thing he doesn't like, it's us, his clients doing things behind his back. I don't care. He DID things behind our backs, and he never gave us a say on any of those matters. We are going to control our narrative now.

"Green light." Let's get this over with.

He closes his eyes and exhales. We have formed a tight friendship over the years. Safe to say that Holland is not just our agent, he's also family. I can see it in his posture that he's holding back, that he truly wants to fix this. But the dent is too big. I don't want him to fix this. The damage has been extremely personal.

I button my pants after I put on the shirt, refusing to look at him. "She's holding on to your agreement still. But I asked her to help me write our songs. She's going to be listed as one of the songwriters when the album is released."

Silence.

Not waiting for his reply, I push open the door of my room and walk to the hallway. Holland is fast on my heels. "What if she wants more? What if she tells you that she wants to be listed as the only songwriter in your other albums? She has evidence, Alec. Your career will be down the drain before you know it if you keep her too close."

My feet halt as I face him. "Well, you should've thought of that before you stole her journal."

Holland's jaw drops, his mouth closes and opens. It takes him a moment to gather his wits. "I-I didn't steal her journal. I'm your agent, Alec. I'm not your fucking music producer. Get your facts straight and stop shooting fires at me."

"And now you're telling me you didn't?" I look to my left and right. We have gathered a small audience despite keeping our voices low. And I know that in the next minutes, our argument will be in the headlines and everyone will have their own version of what we were arguing about. "We'll talk about this later."

We walk into an empty private elevator in silence, our postures stiff. Holland speaks again when the door closes. "I don't know what journal you're talking about."

I exhale harshly, my voice rising. "Stop denying shit, we both know she's telling the truth."

"I didn't say she lied!" Holland pushes on my shoulder. The anger in his eyes unmistakable, his patience waning. "But your assumptions of me are clearly wrong. I'm the most reputable agent out there and I wouldn't steal a fucking cutesy journal just because no one is looking. I could buy the best songwriter there is and we both fucking know it." He lets out an angry exhale and hisses, "Don't be a dumbfuck. You're beyond that."

The elevator dings and Holland walks out, his nose fuming.

"Yellow fucking light," he calls out as he rounds a corner.

We are not done with the conversation yet.

I amble toward the familiar black SUV parked in front of the elevator. The passenger door opens before I reach it. "He seems upset," Asia says as I get settled on my seat.

"Aren't we all?"

We begin driving through the car maze. "You doing okay?"

"I try."

A rustle on the backseat catches my attention just as the car steers into the main road. My eyes snap on the rear-view mirror and meet a familiar set of green eyes. Asia speaks before either of us do. "She wants to come. Didn't have the heart to say no."

I snort and a small smile smoothens my tight lips, remembering the morning she and my driver first met.

"Hey." Tetris waves at me. She's still wearing the same clothes from earlier—a simple, acid gray dress that hugs her curves. I try not to notice them. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine. The glucose did its thing."

"You got us all worried. What did the doctor say?"

"Didn't have the chance to talk to him but it's not drug overdose for sure." A humorless chuckle leaves my lips. No one else laugh. I twist in my seat to fully face her. "I'm not going to die on you."

"I hoped so. Thank you, I guess?"

"We have an entire album to write, Red. It's not my time yet." I smile at her as her brow raises at the nickname. "Don't you worry about me ghosting you."