Author's Note: This is just a thingy I had in my imagination for a while and wanted to write it down. Just compensation for the night since I couldn't go to tonight's the NBHD show :( (I'm real pissed). But anyways, so I've paired Jesse with Sky Ferreira. I'm just using their careers and 'face' to make this story more visual, in other words, it's quite OOC. It's fanfiction after all. Excuse me if this is awful.
W.D.Y.W.F.M.
Prologue.
“What! No, no we don’t need a fucking opening act!”
“Jesse, it will just make the show better… Trust me.”
“We don’t have the money to afford it.”
“The chick only asks for a minimum. Look, she’s hot. She’s gonna bring all those hipster girls in…”
“I bet her music is shit.”
“Well that’s the point, genius.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sky’s POV
I wake up to a horrible headache, last night’s events flashing through my head. Usually, in this sort of situation, I am supposed to be hangover from a massive house party. But no, last night, I actually just stayed home, bashed music loudly (my neighbours screamed through the walls at some point) so I could dance in my underwear, ate candy, cried over my pathetic life and finished by drinking forgotten liquor in my bed. Alone.
That’s pretty much what I get.
Wanting to pierce in the music industry for the past 5 years, I now have my official studio album released but nobody seems to buy it. It’s been leaked on YouTube the day after it got out. That must piss off some artists, but hey, at least some people actually listen to it, right? Not that the music I’ve made is anything special, it’s just raw… and valuable? I don’t know, I’ve tried my best to make the tracks the most self-reflective possible, but I’m not that of a special person. At least the cover made its effect on the medias; they didn’t understand that me, being topless, only
represented the innocence behind the music, and not the sexualized attention-whore. I get most of my praise on Tumblr, which is only a website for desperate teenage girls. I guess I belong there in some way.
Suddenly, the phone rings, sending me out of my morning day-dream. Patting the sheets from where the song ‘Sex On Fire’ by Kings Of Leon is throbbing, I find my cell phone in between the creases of my blanket, and pick it up.
“Hello?” I whisper, realizing how horrible my morning voice is actually sounding. Duh, who even calls at fucking 8am?
”Sky, I’ve got you a gig!” giggles Samantha, my manager’s assistant. Or more like secretary slut.
She’s been quite the pain in the ass lately, always breaking into her ‘lovely-dovely’ chirps, always making me wonder whether or not she’s high. But still, she helps a lot. I would never be able to do all the socializing through the phone to arrange the boring meetings, pointless interviews and rare appearances that the 'boss’ obligates me to attend to. And now she’s actually calling me to announce that I’ll make a concert? Yeah right, she’s definitely high.
“What?” I ask, not believing what she’s actually saying. I rub my face tiredly, realizing that I still have one of last night’s lollipops glued in my hair. Ew.
“You’ll sing as an opening act for this band, umm, on Friday. Just a few songs…”
I’ve sung in public before, but only in small bars and lounges, and I can openly admit that I have really bad stage fright. Singing on TV, or for a video is less triggering, since I never have a public. But live is just so painfully frightening to me. And being an opening act is even worst. I mean the public doesn’t even listen to you, or look at you, since they’re only waiting for the main act to come out. And, to make it even worst, ‘Friday’ is actually tomorrow.
“Hell no.”
“But Sky! It’s only for one night! What, you singing in front of 50 people? That’s no big deal…”
“50 people? More like 500… I’m not going.” I argue. Samantha is now definitely frustrated, since she quits the ‘convince Sky with sing-song voice’ act.
“Sky. They requested you. Specifically.”
What? Me?
“Wait, like you didn’t call them or-”
“They called me.”
Well that changed a lot of things. It would actually mean that someone was interested in my music enough to put it as their show’s opening act. Thinking about it, it is quite flattering. I can’t refuse, that would be rude.
Sighing, I respond with a soundless ‘Fine.’
She squealed loudly, piercing my ears, before giving me instructions for the soundcheck.
“You have to be there at 11am. Don’t drink or do crack before going, ok? And dress well.”
Whatever.
“Yeah, yeah… What’s the band though?” I asked, before letting out a yawl.
“The Neighbourhood.”
YOU ARE READING
W.D.Y.W.F.M. (Jesse Rutherford Fanfic)
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