THE HAPPIEST GIRL | JENLISA

Chapter 3

Lisa

Ear-piercing screams travel through the air as I exit the black SUV at the back of the arena. I give a subtle wave and smile to the fans lining the barricades, making their screams almost deafening. I quickly shut the door on my side of the vehicle and hear the passenger side door shut soon after.

I briskly walk towards the back entrance of the arena, meeting my mother in stride as soon as we get to the hood of the car. She shoves a finger into her left ear and clenches her cell phone to the other, trying to block out the screams and focus on her phone call. She lets out a huff and clicks her heels harder on the pavement to get inside faster.

I take my time though, glancing up to quickly admire the large banner on the side of the arena that's been hung to promote the first show of my world tour that will kick off here in just three days. It doesn't get old, but then again, it does. I'm still a little shocked every time I see my face on a billboard, magazine, or anything, really. The life I live and get to experience is amazing, and I don't think I'd trade it for the world, but it does have its downfalls.

"Lisa!" my mother calls, urging me to pick up the pace to make the screaming stop.

I pick up my feet and shove my hands into my pockets, meeting her at the back entrance.

"No... No! Robert, that's not wha... ugh!" she says, ducking into a room that has a sign with my name on the door, presumably my dressing room.

I shake my head and make my way through the backstage halls. I'll just let her be. I've heard enough of whatever conversation she's having all the way here from the hotel. I don't need or want to hear any more of it. It's probably some deal she's trying to work out for herself.

I love my mom, I do, but she's always acted more like a manager than a mother. Now that I'm older, she's backing off a little, trying to make a name for herself instead. She's trying to get any brand deal that she can get, but mainly she's trying to publish a book on how to parent a popstar or the life of a mother of a popstar.

Something like that. I wonder how that will go since sometimes I honestly feel like she didn't raise me at all.

As I make my way backstage, I notice some familiar faces. I smile and nod in acknowledgement at some of my band members standing around in a circle talking amongst themselves. I do the same to the dancers who are huddled around each other further down the hallway. Everyone seems to smile back, but they don't stop to say hello or talk.

That's one thing I really hate about touring. No matter how much no one wants to admit it, there are cliques. Sure, everyone's nice to me in my face but it's almost as if they're scared of me in some way too. I've never given them a reason to be, but I guess that's just the stigma that comes along with being a popstar. Everyone thinks you're an entitled brat who can throw a tantrum and fire anyone at any second. Never have I come close to that though.

I make my way to the floor of the arena to see the stage. It's nearly complete, needing the end of the runway to be built and adding more screens. These stages and the production just keep getting bigger and bigger with every tour. I really have no clue how I'm going to top the next tour after this one.

I go to the edge of the floor to get out of the workers' way and pop into one of the openings along the edge. Walking up a few steps, I sit in one of the thousands of seats and plop down, propping my feet up on top of the row of seats in front of me. A sigh escapes my lips as I clasp my hands behind my head, resting them there. "How did I get here?" I mumble to myself, watching in awe as all of the people hustle around to get everything complete.

I've been working my ass off since I was nine years old. At that age I knew I wanted to be something bigger than myself. I begged my mom to let me audition for anything and everything I could.

Growing up in New York, there were more opportunities than most places, and once I bugged my mother enough she let me go to a talent agency where I was booked. I ended up getting small commercials, modelling shoots, but ended up mainly doing theatre work.

By the time I was thirteen, I fell in love with music and wanted to create my own. I had my agent take me to every record label they could find until one decided to take me in.

After the release of my first single at fourteen, I basically became an overnight sensation. My music went straight to the top of the charts, and pretty soon I had loads of teenage fans running after me and screaming my name. Since then, I've released four number one albums and have been on a world tour for each of them. Now at twenty years old, I'm about to go on my fourth world tour for my fourth album.

My phone ringing and vibrating in my pocket pulls me from my thoughts. I remove my hands from the back of my head and fish my phone out of my pocket. I can't help but audibly groan as the word - Mom flashes across the screen.

I sigh as I pull myself up from the seat, already knowing that she's going to want me to go to my dressing room.

"Yeah." I answer, pulling my phone up to my ear, walking towards the backstage area.

"Lisa, I need you to come to your dressing room. I have a publisher here that wants to talk to the both of us."

"On my way." I mumble, hanging up the phone.