The Architect [Pipabeth AU]

f o u r: tuesday

P I P E R

Waking up the next morning was rough. My head was pounding, my jaw was sore, and my throat hurt from singing my heart out. I downed one too many Tylenol with a half drank bottle of vodka that was sitting on my bedside table and stared blankly up at the ceiling. What were the critics saying this morning? Were they tweeting about the reactions from fans, were they griping that I did this for attention? Were they writing in forums about who they supposed my love interest could be now that I had told them that I was indeed, gay? It had taken me so long to accept it, and now I felt like the world had taken so little time to steal it from me. Before I even knew myself and my sexuality thoroughly, they were trying to define it.

I groaned and sat up. Sunlight poured through the cracks in my curtain, and the beautiful rolling hills of the secluded outskirts of the Los Angeles valley met my eyes. Lots of celebrities lived in mansions outside of the busy city. It made for some crazy house party instances- last week, Zac Efron had sang karaoke on his roof in his underwear. On the way out, he had paid each guest over five thousand dollars to not post the videos online. Five thousand was nothing to a bunch of A-List celebrities though, and the video had gone viral. I enjoyed several angles of it from E-News later.

I looked over to see what time it was and remembered I'd unplugged my alarm clock and shut down my phone. I stood and threw open the curtains in my room and saw the sun was high in the sky. It was at least after noon, I guessed, and bet my dad was probably worried. I gave him a call on the landline.

"Piper!" He said. "I've been calling your cell all morning? What have you been doing?"

"Sleeping," I yawned. I lazily held down my power button and watched the Apple symbol pop up on my iPhone screen. Then I tossed it on my bed.

"It's nearly two o' clock." He chastised.

I sighed. "Dad, I just..."

He immediately began comforting me as I broke down into tears. As my phone woke up, I was immediately notified that I had several missed calls from my secretary and manager, unopened texts from my band members and songwriters, and emails from my record label.

There was virtually no break from celebrity life.

"I've gotta catch these calls, dad," I sighed.

"Back into the game, Pipes. I know how it is." He said.

We said our goodbyes. I called my secretary first, figuring she'd be the easiest to talk to.

"Piper!" She scolded barely after the first ring. "I came to your door at 8 am and rang the doorbell five times. Five times! No answer! What has gotten into you?" Before I could answer, she continued, "So I thought: she's tired, she's been through a lot. I'll come back! I tried again at 10 and at 12. What have you been doing all morning? There is no way you've been sleeping this long. You have TV interview requests pending from Ellen, Saturday Night Live, Kelly and Ryan and the Wendy Williams Show, magazine interview requests from Vogue, Teen Beat and People, and you need to get back with your manager and the head of your label. You're supposed to be setting your tour dates and cities this week, and you have a songwriting and demo recording session for your next album tomorrow."

"Next album? We just released one." I said, glazing over everything else as I took off my clothes in preparation for a shower.

"Piper!" She reprimanded. "Don't be silly. You know your manager won't like that! The fans are hungry for more. How do you plan to respond to these interviews?"

"I don't..." I didn't want to talk about what I knew they wanted to talk about. Me coming out was not me coming out. It was me being outed. By one of the few people that I told. All of these people being my close knit group of best friends...

"Chop chop, Pipes. You have to decide so I can schedule ahead! Scheduling conflicts is the last thing you need. Don't forget to take your anxiety medicine, and take your sleeping pill before 9 pm tonight. I would say don't worry about getting 8 hours since you slept 12 today, but the last thing you need is a messed up sleep schedule. Don't forget, the maids are coming on Thursday at noon- don't sleep through it, you'll have to let them in- and your butler is leaving on Friday for his two week vacation in the Bahamas. I'm jealous by the way, you never let me off the hook like that. Also, architect Annabeth Chase will be at your home tomorrow afternoon to help you design and build a new one down the road. Maybe you could get her to redesign your interior while you're at it." She continued sharply. "I organized your files, journals, notebooks, demos, drafts and all the other good goods in your office yesterday, per your fathers request. He's worried about you Piper. Also, your manager has left me various angry voicemails about not being able to reach you. You have a meeting next week with the head of your agency- don't forget! Tour dates finalized by Friday, therefore another meeting with your agents and managers on Thursday. Any questions?"

"Can you just send me all that in Google doc form?" I asked.

"Of course. Go write a hit song lovely. Anything else you need?" She asked.

"Coffee?"

"See you in an hour. Your normal?"

"Can you put a shot of vodka in it?" I asked.

"In coffee? You're really in a place aren't you. No, Piper. You know alcohol is bad for your vocal chords. Alright love, have a nice day!"

With that, she hung up. I took a shower and ventured next door to my practice room, where I organized the few rough draft songs I had managed to get together over the past few months. In the spare moments where I wasn't recording my new album, meeting with record label personnel, marketing my new singles or being forced to do more photoshoots, I had managed to write some more songs. Interviews, paparazzi and doing things for my fans like meet and greets put a wear on my time, but I still found time not to get lost in the noise and do the thing that I loved.

I picked up a guitar and strummed the rift that had been popping into my head for the last two weeks. The thing I love about songwriting is that it never happens the same way twice. Sometimes you'll get the music first, or the words first. Sometimes you just get a chorus and somehow one day down the road it fits perfectly into a new verse you jus wrote. You always have to wait for the song to find you- you can't look for the song yourself, or you'll never be able to write one.

Today, one found me.

Happy Tuesday, I thought. Maybe tomorrow I'll face the outside world.