"You're a star now, welcome to the big league. They all wanna pic. They all wanna see what you're made of, what you're gonna do. Is life gonna get the best of you?"
(Written 12/5/15 - 2/20/17)
(Under editing from 2/21/17 - 6/27/17)
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It was early in the day and my father dragged me out of the house after I had been up half the night after the album release party. "Is this the number for Lester Crest?" My dad asked with his phone pressed to his ear. I tuned out his phone conversation and watched a guy throwing a frisbee to his dog. It made me think of our old dog who passed a few years ago. We had several pictures of him around our house. I began humming a song to myself while I sat with my legs criss-crossed and reminisced about our dead dog and messing around with my large sunglasses that helped conceal my identity for I did not want to be recognized. Michael tapped my arm a minute later after his phone call and I looked up at him him.
"We're going to see an old friend. C'mon." He said with no emotion. We walked down the sidewalk together and got in his car at the end of the park. His car roared to life and Still D.R.E. played. "Ooh," I said and turned it up. It was one of the few songs I could stand on the radio nowadays.
Michael cut my abrupt happiness short, turning the volume knob down and grimacing. "That music drives me fucking crazy." I sigh and turn my head to window. Michael also wasn't a fan of my music. He preferred me on TV, just like he loved his movies. It's insanely hurtful of course when your own father doesn't appreciate your passion.
We cruised down the highway to a place a believe is Murrieta Heights. There was a prostitute already hanging out on the corner of the street in the middle of the day. I saw my dad glance at her and I made a face of disgust at him. He pulled in front of a house that I could see had security cameras on the front porch.
"Alright I'll just be a minute." He said and started opening the door.
"Dad wait-" I called as I unbuckled my seat belt. "I'm coming." I opened the door and got out.
He rolled his eyes. "Fine, whatever." We walked up the concrete steps to the house. All I could think about was that prostitute standing at the end of the street. What plagues a person to become a prostitute?
I jogged after Michael who was already on the porch and the sound of my shoes scuttling on the concrete made him turn his head and frown at me. I felt small as I slowed to a walk, a bit ashamed for even such a small thing. Then I noticed a camera attached to the porch ceiling centered on us and zoomed in. At least it wasn't flashing to capture a picture of me. The flash always hurts my eyes. My dad flipped the camera off with both hands. "Fuck you Lester. You gonna let me in or what?" He said irritably.
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"I'm working on it!" A voice came through a speaker. The door clicked and opened slightly. Michael pushed it open and I followed him through the cluttered house. I noticed one area was caged off. This person must be some weird recluse or probably hiding something of some weird sexual fantasy. We walked into another cluttered room where a mattress sat in the corner, there was a big computer with a lot of software or something next to it. I saw on the back wall there was a bunch of action figures still in their boxes bailed to the wall.
