Phenomena

Chapter 2

The solitude that two men enjoyed gave way to a throng of reporters and spectators as they prepared to exit the vehicle. A crowd was divided into two factions whose shouts rose into an opinionated cloud that rained both condemnation and praise on a handsome, young, wavy-haired man stepping out of the car with an acquaintance. The journalists shouted questions and jammed their microphones past the tight boundary provided by security officers as they escorted the two gentlemen along a previously cleared path to the building entrance-a task at which they were momentarily unsuccessful, as the two men were quickly separated amidst the chaos. The second, less famous, but equally youthful and comely gentleman, while too slender for one to assert was a bodyguard, proved himself strong enough to push his way back to his counterpart just in time to enter the building.

"This is not what either of us had in mind when mapping out your road to success," said the slender gentleman. "Care to rethink this minor-but-not-so-minor adjustment in your message?"

"My message is the same. Nothing has changed, Langston," responded the other man, mirroring his cohort's relief to finally be inside. But he was still undaunted.

It was this fearlessness as well as the conviction with which he spoke that could be attributed to his having become so famous, or infamous. The former was particularly from the young female demographic, evidenced by one with blonde hair that greeted him and Langston at the entrance in a black pencil skirt that appeared shorter than the heels she wore, and a white blouse with buttons that were clearly there for show in every sense of the word. Langston closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead as if attempting to soothe a headache.

"Here we go..." he mumbled safely out of the young woman's earshot.

"Good morning, gentlemen," she said, but obviously looking at only one of them. "You're early, so you have a little while until your segment of the broadcast. If you follow me, I can take you to the green room to wait. But...um...Ashten, i-if you don't mind, could I get a selfie with you?"

Langston frowned. First name basis, huh? Disrespectful-ass Millennials. This was an ironic sentiment, considering that his age satisfied the qualification for membership in that group.

"Mr. Stein," he said emphatically, looking directly in the face of the star-stricken bombshell before turning back to Ashten, "can we remain focused, please?"

"It's just a picture," replied Ashten, moving next to the young woman as she held the phone skyward into an optimum angular position for the photo. Langston folded his arms and waited through the customary 'pouty mouth' shot followed by the 'cheek-to-cheek-smiling-like-we're-close-friends' shot.

The young woman excitedly pulled the phone down, quickly accessing the new images. "Oh my god, thank you, Ashten!" she said, holding the device to her chest, bouncing, and smiling.

"Ma'am," interjected Langston, "the green room?"

"Oh...yeah. I'm so sorry. Um...follow me."

The three made their way through the halls of the radio station past personnel that could barely be held back by walls of restraint erected by management to maintain professionalism in the presence of one who had become one of the most polarizing people in the last year or so. Cracks in the invisible barrier gave way to remarks like, "con artist" and "cult leader". An extremely bitter woman expressed her desire for him to "join Ian." However, many were considerably more favorable. Utterances of "thank you," "hero," and "savior," were intermingled with invitations in the form of random social media handles and phone numbers from women...as well as some men.

"Have a seat in here and someone will be back to take you into the studio," said the young lady, opening a door for the two guests. "My name is Jennifer, if you need me...for anything."