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Ash Minor - singer, song writer, billboard blasting track producer. A pop star.
He knows how to play the heart strings. Sometimes soothing, sometimes shooting up the blood pressure.
But always playing.
Word count: 120000
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"Hiya, doll." I get a slap on my chest for my slip.
"You're not trying, dimwit." Gino pushes me away and walks towards the chairs. The hotel room looks like always. Grand and yet bland.
"I can't keep up with your ever changing rule book." I shrug and follow her.
She recently decided she's not a doll anymore, or anything remotely nice or feminine. I blame it on Tumblr. Too much reading always results in such crap.
Gino's real name is Samira. Her YouTube channel name is GreenIsNewOasis. In her videos, she makes unappetizing smoothies and horrible gooey breakfasts. And she has half a million subscribers. I think people watch her videos to lose interest in food.
Six years ago, Gino's was the first comment on my first ever crappy music video.
Not for you. Do something else.
I was so heartbroken and angry. I called her very colorful names and trashed her whole family tree in the comments section. She returned the favor.
Rest was history.
Gino is my in house critique now. Whatever I create for public, if it doesn't get a rise out of her, I stuff it directly in the recycle bin. I can honestly say that she made me a better artist by her heartless, mean criticism.
However our public profile is a fantasy.
There are fanfictions pairing us in social media. Gino has neither shown her face, nor shared anything personal in her videos, and yet, my fans think we are star crossed lovers. Our ship name is Gish. Gino loves it, she coined it. She reads as much as writes them.
Sadly, she has no interest in my dick. Or any genitals for that matter.
"Where's your shadow?" She asks, looking at the door.
"Don't know." I sit on her lap and play with her glasses. She wears those big ones that make her look like a fake scientist. I haven't seen her in almost two years. The last time was right after her divorce. It was a depressing business. But from all the recent accounts, they're both happy now. That's what matters.
She lives in Dublin. Now that I'm touring UK, I bribed her with booze and a luxurious penthouse suite to come to London. From the half done bottle on the table, I can see that Gino is well into her luxurious stay and booze. She is immune to alcohol. Her words won't start slurring until the whole bottle is done. Even then it will only be a slight slur.
"Oh, please. Where's he?" She wraps her arms around my waist and places her cheek on my shoulder.
"Downstairs. I don't know how the fuck they figure out where I am. Three fucking vans are there." We just landed in London and already they are here. I hate the blood sucking vultures who fly above my head all the fucking time, taking pictures and asking stupid questions.
