GTFO of My Head

Chapter 1

"Boo all you want motherfuckers but you're sitting on your fat asses down there and we're up here with this fucking award and you're not so suck it!"

The crowd who had been booing the band being awarded the song of the year grew louder and uglier, boos becoming chants for the band to get off the stage.

"I guess we have real fucking fans and you just have fucking bots and trolls and this is the third year that our fucking fans gave us this fucking award and you can boo all you fucking want but I'll just go back and count my fucking money and listen to our fucking song on the fucking radio and you can fucking go cry in your beer motherfuckers!"

The video froze and the man sitting at the end of the table holding the remote turned his chair to face his client, one eyebrow raised and his lips pursed.

"I know man, I know okay? I'm not gonna sit here and give you fucking excuses man. I fucked up. I know I fucked up. But I had just found out about Eden and I was in a bad fucking head space. Hey, I went to rehab man, what else do you want me to say?" Brady cracked his knuckles and chewed on his bottom lip, both nervous tics that had got infinitely worse since he'd stopped drinking. To add to that now both of his legs were bouncing and one of his eyes had developed an annoying twitch.

"I know you're not normally such an irresponsible asshole Bradyn but the brass at the Label aren't willing to put up with this kind of bad press any longer. This sex drugs and rock and roll shit isn't something they think is cute anymore. Not with the me too and all the attention on social media. I've gone to bat for you man but you're going to have to help me out here," his agent turned off the television with another click of the remote before he sat back in his black leather chair and steepled his fingers.

"Absolutely, whatever you think man," Brady went to twist his wedding ring and then frowned, realizing for the hundredth time since that day that it wasn't there any longer.

"The Label is asking for new music, sooner rather than later," his agent began with the first smile Brady had seen on his face since he'd arrived in his office.

"Well...I mean...don't they usually recommend like laying low for a while, staying out of the spotlight and letting things kinda blow over?" His agent, Will Clarke, who Brady had been with for ten years had a kind of exhausted look to him that reminded him of the way his parents used to look at him when he'd been caught sneaking out for the hundredth time and they knew they had to give him the speech, again, but they also knew that he wasn't going to listen to a word they said. "I mean, these days you're in the shit one day and forgotten the next, that's the news cycle isn't it?" he asked, hoping to appease the man in the navy pin striped suit with the blonde ken doll haircut and chiseled all American features that were definitely not like his own angular gaunt and pale physiognomy.

"That's also the way the music charts work these days," Will replied coolly. Brady frowned.

"I mean the pop charts yeah but not the rock charts," he snarked but his agent responded with an impatient sounding sigh.

"You have some songs written yeah?" Brady watched Will get up and walk over to the floor to ceiling windows in his big corner office on the twentieth floor of the Wilshire Boulevard Agency that his band and their albums had definitely helped to pay for and he had to clench his hands into fists at his sides to stop himself from picking up his chair and tossing it right through those expensive as fuck windows.

"Some yeah, but the guys...," he began carefully and then closed his eyes against the headache that was beginning to build.

"Have you spoken with CJ?" Will asked and Brady had to shake his head. His best friend and the lead guitarist for his band, Christian Jacks, known to their fans as CJ had not spoken to him since that night. In the video CJ, their rhythm guitarist Brooks and their drummer Max had slowly exited the stage while he had drunkenly picked a fight with the audience. Only Ajax, the band's bass player, had stood at his side flipping the surly audience the bird while egging him on. "Well, it's just as well that the execs at the Label aren't looking for an album from the band. They're looking for a solo effort."