Hypnotised

Chapter 10

Seldom had I been in such a good mood when walking in the studio to have a meeting with the monkeys and Richard, yes. The thing is, I’ve just probably had the best morning ever: waking up to tangled limbs, I incited Miles to open those beautiful almond-shaped eyes by singing some nonsense I came up with spontaneously and then, while I myself took a very needed shower, he prepared breakfast like he were the head chef in a fancy five-star hotel. As I sat on the elegant chair, drying my hair with a cute little lime towel, Miles swiftly placed cakes, cookies, fruits, toasts, juices and yoghurts on the pearly tablecloth…I think we could well have had 10 more people in and still some food would have remained. I was both shocked and complimented...I mean, all these obviously thought-out stuff really got to me and I couldn’t help but feel somewhat special and lucky.

But you can only fool fate for so long.

 

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“I thought I had been straightforward enough, you know…Your name is just starting to ring the ears of Americans, you are still very very far from that worshiped star status which would allow you to go around wearing stilettos and be considered a cool or revolutionary lad. Doing that or any gay shit now equals career suicide and I have also already pretty much emphasised the fact that while your image is the one that truly makes the difference, given that people usually connect with a band through the lead singer, you don’t go solo dear. You have a band that has made their wish perfectly clear: they want to become a worldwide acclaimed rock group and if I hadn’t caught this goddamn tape all they would have ever be recognized for is for being that band with the ridiculously frustrated fag lead singer. Just look at this shit [he pointed at the tape] it really couldn’t go worse, that bloke blatantly rejects you…”

Richard started clapping his hands and laughing maniacally with that disgusting harsh voice. I couldn’t quite decide what event was more alarming: the changing room having hidden ‘security’ cameras or Richard ‘keeping an eye on everything’ on the security room. As verbose as ever, he continued to ramble about just how cunning he was to bribe the security bloke, acting it off like he just wanted to give the tape to Miles and me, as anniversary present [if only he knew that was actually yesterday!] and how painfully difficult it was for him not to tell the guys but ‘he was feeling like giving me a last chance’ [well aren’t you a sugar-filled dwarf? you seem just about to explode due to all the sweetness your body contains!]

“So I have come with this root solution I’m convinced the situation calls for. Here and now, I want you to call tha’ Miles fag and break up with him, briefly explaining that the upcoming tour is inevitably tearing you two apart and that you’re not really the type of guy that can maintain long-distance relationships. Say, basically, that you really can’t assure him any form of commitment when going out every night and seeing the prettiest ladies just begging you to fuck them senseless [I only have eyes for him, you idiot]. Emphasise the ‘ladies’, ‘cause that’s really all you’re gonna settle for until you make it to the top…oh the irony! Get it?”

I shouted, kicked him, cried, tried to run away but it was ultimately pointless. The security staff pushed me back to the condemned room and there was Richard roaring that if I dared cross the door again not having made the phone call then I could officially consider myself out of the band.

Beeps.

Please babe don’t pick up, just don’t pi…

“Al!” Miles’ voice suddenly chimed through the speaker and I swear I saw pleasure in that gnome’s sadistic eyes as I opened my mouth.

“Miles listen” I said in a hushed tone.

“What’s up babe?”

Richard held back a laugh.