Promise. (Manthony)

Nine

     I pace around my room as I wait for the Uber to arrive. Mitchel was coming home today. But before that, the rest of us had a meeting with Evan and our publicist to discuss what happened on the night of the party. I was able to put some of the pieces of the story together but not all of them. Something wasn't adding up but my head throbbed too much for me to keep thinking about it.

A notification on my phone makes me jump as my room had been dead silent. I look at my phone and read the notification from the Uber app. Our driver had arrived. I grab my things and run downstairs to tell everyone to get in the car.

"Clinton! You lock up!" I yell as Jessie, Pat, and I rush out the door. None of us wanted to be late on top of everything else. We quickly get in the car and I yell at Clinton to hurry up. He flips me off as he takes his time to get to the car. He hadn't spoken to me much since Mitchel had been admitted into the hospital. I couldn't blame him. If I were him, I wouldn't talk to me either. 

"There's a high chance our tour is gonna be canceled due to this shit. Prepare yourselves." He says to us. My cheeks heat up as I feel the tension in the car increase. Even our Uber driver shifted in his seat uncomfortably. I avoid everyone's gaze and look down at my hands instead.

I pull my phone out and send Mitchel a text. He finally got his breathing tube out and was able to use his phone and mend for himself more. I visited whenever I could. We hadn't spoken of that night and thankfully things weren't too weird between us. We would talk about whatever came to mind and occasionally play Mario Kart on my phone.

Mitty:
Don't stress too much. You're gonna get old fast.

Christian:
Says you. I'm not the one with a herniated disc.

Mitty:
ok...u can shut up now...

Christian:
See u at home.

Read at 10:20 am

I pay the Uber driver and hand him a generous tip for putting up with the awkward car ride. I thank him and leave the car to follow my friends. I silently walk into the building where we had signed our record deal. I felt stupid for keeping my head down, but as I walked by workers and artists I didn't recognize, I began to feel even more embarrassed and upset with myself. I felt like everyone was judging me and looking down at me. Maybe they were. Maybe I deserved it. 

"Remember it is what it is, We'll try to explain that this is our first and last mistake. Hopefully, we'll be allowed to continue with the tour." Clinton whispers to us as we approach the elevators. He was speaking to me, not our friends. They hadn't done anything but get us out of trouble with the law.

The elevator dings as we approach the floor where Evan's office was. All of us dressed nicely. I wore a nice pair of black jeans with a button-up shirt which I tucked in but not enough as to where it looked weird. The guys followed my lead but changed up their shirts or wore a blazer to look more professional. 

I take a deep breath and count to five in my head to calm myself down. My old therapist had recommended I do so whenever I felt anxious. It never seemed to work but at least I kept trying. Clinton knocks on Evan's office door. All of us stood in silence as we waited. I could hear rustling from behind the door and a few male voices. The door opens. Our manager, publicist, and an assistant I had never seen appear. I swallow hard. They made me fall small and unimportant.

"Thank you guys for coming. Come in." Evan extends his hand out. Each of shaking it as we walk by. We greet our publicist and the assistant as we walk towards the round table and take a seat. There were mini water bottles in front of us along with a piece of paper. We sit down and wait for the meeting to begin.