The tale of being famous ON HOLD (Jamie Campbell Bower)

Chapter 1

I looked at my mobile for the about five millionst time. Damn. I didn't hear anything from Max though he told me around two hours ago he'd text me when the rehearsal is beginning.

Since then I was walking around my flat and didn't do anything because he could write any second and then I had to hurry up, so it wouldn't make sense to start doing anything.

But because I'm doing nothing since two whole hours I decided to turn on the little crappy TV and let myself sink into the old leather sofa.

But not before wearing on my shoes if I'm getting the text just now and have to hurry.

My bum barely touched the sofa pillows when my cat Mr Darcy already jumped onto my lap. He turned around about fitythousand times and I was only an inch away from throwing him down my lap again because his whirling really annoyed me when he finally decided to lay down.

There's nothing good on TV and I was just about to watch Teen Mom on Mtv when my mobe rang.

I tried to fish it out of my trouser pocket hectically but Mr Darcy was lying directly on top of it and I wore skinny jeans, so it wasn't an easy attempt.

It seemed to me like the ring got more and more hectically and louder and I started to panic about Max just ringing off again and then I'd miss my rehearsal and that was what I could afford least of all today.

So I simply threw Mr Darcy onto the floor and hopped around like a disabled rabbit to force my hand into my pocket to my mobe. At last I made it and picked up. "Yes?"

"Damn, Scar, you really took your time!" complained Mac.

"But you!" I complained back. After all HE let ME wait here about two hours and now he groused. Sometimes I really wanted to throw him against a wall.

"Yes... Sorry, I'm really sorry. I completely forgot about you... Rehearsal begins in quarter an hour, so you have to hurry. Sorry again."

Well, great! Anyway, how could he forget that?! Now I knew why he didn't have any pets. There was one time he had all the responsibility and then that!

I could really go crazy about that, what I obviously didn't because I didn't have any time for it.

The problem was that you couldn't make it from my flat to the theatre in quarter an hour and certainly not if you had to take the bus.

So I rang off and caressed Mr Darcy's head apologetically because I had thrown him from my lap earlier and promised him to buy a packet of Dreamis, his favourite food.

Then I grabbed my sweat jacket and ran out of the door. Never ever skinny jeans again.

* * *

I ran towards the bus stop and in my opinion this run should get in the Guinne's World Record book and still I didn't make it.

The bus drove by as if it was nothing for him while I scoffed and breathed and felt like I would physically eject my lungs.

On the back seat I could see two punks laughing at me, they even pinted their fingers at me. Idiots.

I think the bus driver drove past me on purpose because he clearly saw me running (a quite undoubted towards-the-bus stop-running) but he had to drive me home in a not so sober state so I couldn't really blame him. Because, trust me. I'm not a nice drunk.

I thought about the options I now had:

I could wait for the next bus, but then I would be minimum half an hour too late..

I could phone Max and ask him if he could drive by and pick me up but I doubted that Scott, our 'Boss', would let him go.

Or I had to walk because I didn't have enough money for a taxi. Walking would take longer than driving with the bus but I'd still be there earlier then when I'd be waiting for the next bus to arrive.