Blaine woke early the next morning to his alarm blaring some cookie cutter pop tune on the radio. He shuddered involuntarily when he recognized it as his latest chart topper “Last Friday Night”. He couldn’t wait until Wes let him put out his own, real music.
Yawning, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and stretched his arms up over his head. He climbed out of bed and headed to the bathroom to brush his teeth, shave, and attempt to tame his wild curls. After a valiant effort, he gave up, accepting the fact that his hair would be a bit messy today. He brushed a stray curl off of his forehead and walked back out to his bedroom. He got dressed quickly, deciding to travel somewhat casually in some dark jeans, cuffed at the ankle with a crème colored button down rolled up to the elbows and paired with some bone and toffee colored Oxfords.
He glanced at himself in the mirror in his walk in closet and was satisfied with his appearance. He would dress up a bit more to meet Kurt. He had a special bow tie picked out and everything. He stopped in the kitchen for a pop-tart before grabbing his satchel and suitcase, wheeling it behind him and into the elevator in the main hall of his pent house.
Once on the ground floor, Blaine was greeted by his driver, Tom, right on time as usual. With a nod and smile to Tiffany at the front desk, they were out the door. Tom loaded Blaine’s suitcase into the trunk of the black Lexus, while Blaine climbed into the backseat. They drove to LAX in a companionable silence, stopping only for a medium drip and an insisted upon chai tea for Tom; who quickly learned that Blaine was as just stubborn as he was generous.
When they arrived, Tom tried to help Blaine with his bag, but Blaine insisted that he could handle it, and pulled it behind him into the airport, waving goodbye to Tom over his shoulder. He headed to the counter to pick up his ticket, looking for left and right for Wes, who he was supposed to be meeting with at the gate. Keelie told him what airline he would be flying on, so he stood in line for the corresponding counter. When it was finally his turn, he was greeted by a perky brunette, whose nametag read ‘Carry’.
“Thank you for choosing American Airlines, can I help—“her eyes widened when she recognized him. “Ohmygosh! You’re Blaine Anderson! I’m so sorry. I know this is unprofessional, but I’m a HUGE fan. Can I please have your autograph?!” Blaine laughed shyly. He still wasn’t used to the attention and being noticed. “Of course.” He said, flashing her a charming smile. She slid him a piece of paper and he wrote out a message; To Carry, Thanks for supporting my music and lighting up LAX with your smile… Sorry, that was cheesy. Oh God. I’m rambling on paper now. He stopped before he could embarrass himself further and signed his name, finishing it off with a smiley face. Blushing, he handed the paper back to her in exchanged for his ticket that she printed while he was writing. “Thank you so much!” she said before reading the message with a laugh. “Any time.” He said with a shy smile. She tied a name tag to his suitcase and he headed to his gate.
He was Wes almost immediately, standing under the screen showing expected departure and arrival times. “You’re late.” He said in lieu of a greeting. “Well hello to you, too, Wesley.” Blaine said with a chipper smile. “My morning was okay. I stopped to get some coffee with Tom. I signed an autograph for—“
“Blaine. I’m already weary of this whole thing. You’re not even taking a bodyguard—“
“Wes,” Blaine interrupted. “Calm down. Keelie said that everything would be taken care of, remember? Besides, I don’t need a bodyguard.” Blaine shrugged.
“Blaine, you have a platinum selling record. You need a bodyguard. And you sure do rely a lot on this Keelie girl. How you know this whole thing is even real is beyond me”.
“Wes, you spoke with her. This thing is legit. They paid for everything, and—“
“I’m going.”
