radio

37

dan

i walk out of the restroom still on a call with my mum. i was too caught up in everything else going on to notice her back to back calls, and when i finally did, i was already three drinks down at a club where we were celebrating my success.

she didn't really have much to say about it because she doesn't know the industry or what record selling means; she just awkwardly congratulated me, told me my dad was too busy to call me but he's proud of me, and then forced me to talk to adrian which was truly an absurd moment if i do say so myself. i talked to adrian for merely ten seconds and when the phone went back to my mum she hassled me for not making her stupid lasagna recipe.

somewhere between her incessant nagging and the sound of my brother laughing in the background, my heart aches a little to be close to my family. the reality of the situation tastes worse than the overly alcoholic margaritas as i realise that i'm awkwardly standing outside the restroom, alone, talking to my mother and this party is supposed to be for me. the loneliness sits down heavier at the base of my throat as my eyes search for somebody to talk to in this gigantic club and my mom ends the call with an "i love you".

i shove the device in my pocket and make my way back to bar. i do wish phil wouldn't have disappeared as soon as we entered the club—i'm not really disappointed, just sad. we do have plans together after this, but the little-stupid-still-obsessed-with-my-boss part of my brain seemed to believe that phil would want to spend time with me here anyway. i lean on the bar and try to swallow the feeling with a glass of wine. i am aware that i'm mixing my drinks but i've always wanted to taste all these fancy drinks and tonight, i am not the one paying for them.

after about an hour and a half, i finally tear my eyes away from my almost dying phone. i realise i have been sucking on the straw of my already empty drink and i pull it out of my mouth in embarrassment, looking up only to find the bartender looking sympathetically at me. it kind of pisses me off, but i feel too drowsy to pick a fight with him and i just silently push my glass towards him with a single finger. i make the gesture even more douchey when i raise my eyebrows at him and he rolls his eyes, grabbing my glass and filling it with another orange soda gin.

i'm kind of glad that he didn't notice—or rather, didn't acknowledge the fifteen drinks that are littered in front of me with barely a sip taken out of all of them. alcohol tastes disgusting. as if to prove my own point, i grab a weird herby drink that i thought i would really like and give it a second chance; and it's obviously a bad idea because i spit it out in the glass just as the bartender gives me the drink i asked for. i smile at him a little and take my gin unapologetically.

is this what i have signed up for? every time i release a successful song, this is how i celebrate? finding a new favourite drink to accompany me as hundreds of people dance to my success. what's even worse is that i barely fucking know them. and where the hell is phil?

i feel more frustrated the more i think about it, and before i know it the damned drink is over again.

"hey man," the words feel like they come from me but i'm not sure if anyone heard them. "hey bar-man, can you like, can you make like a big big glass of this one?" i gesture with my hands just how big i want this stupid orange drink and he looks at me like i'm joking.

"come on! i keep running and running out of it," i roll my eyes and i'm shocked once he doesn't grant my request. okay, is this a fucking joke? it's my party, how can he not give me my orange drink?

"hey! where have you been?" two warm hands place themselves firmly on my shoulders and i turn around a little even though i know it's him. i can already feel my cheeks flushing and the annoyance buzz out into something lighter. how the hell does he have so much of an effect on me?