Frans King is a modern day popstar who lives his life on the outside as if everything were perfect. But, inside, he faces the tumult of an emotional typhoon.
His father and his record company force him to live a faux life in order to support a good...
"But why am I not allowed to put these songs in my next album?" Frans asked -even begged-, looking sadly at the lyrics scribbled down on a piece of paper, the songs he had worked so hard on. He had put so many sleepless, tired and lonely nights in those songs. But they didn't approve. They didn't like it. So they refused. He hated them. But there was nothing he could of had done. To keep his father happy and well, he had to obey them, like a dog.
He leaned more into the dark leather couch, closing his green eyes. The room seemed to be too small, too quiet and too tidy. The sound of sharp nails hitting the laptops keyboard broke the silence.
"Frans darling, we've had this conversation many times already. All you need to do is sing, okay? We've got everything else." So in translation it would be: wedon'tcarewhatyouwish to sing about, since the hot topic is the attraction between two people, that's what all our songs are and will be about. Besides, half naked people with hot body attract attention better then slow sad songs ever will.
Frans' eyes snapped open and he looked at the blond woman who didn't even bother do look him in the face.
"Okay, I can't put them in album, but why can't I just release them? Just an audio? There's no need to fuss over a music video or anything else, just a blank black picture and audio, Martha please."
Martha ignored him, too intrigued with the ratings and too caught up in the ideas of how to get the ratings up, money wasn't really problem, a big company like this had money more then enought. It was all about money and auto tunes. Frans sighed and closed his tired eyes once again, trying to relax on the soft couch in the managements office. The task was nearly impossible as the thoughts kept swirling in his mind, the fair haired woman ignoring him so casually.
"Can I go home?" Frans asked lazily, there was no need to be overly enthusiastic in Martha's presence, the woman hardly cared about other people's emotions. He was hoping that maybe they would let him go home now? All this talking nonsense was causing him headache.
Martha looked up from her computer, her hazel eyes meeting his startled green ones. "You've got interview with the radio in a few hours and after that, Marvel will drive you home." She said, holding his gaze a little longer to get the point across. When Frans lowered his eyes, she went back to typing.
He muttered curses under his breath. Bloody hell, why can't those interviews end already?
He was tired, so tired he just felt like jumping off the roof. But he couldn't do anything like that, he just couldn't. He had fans too many fans, and besides, if he were to pull a crazy stunt like that, his management would get twice as much money as they have right now due to all the attentention. Frans felt awfully guilty because of it. Their idol was someone who never existed in the first place, their idol is actually a coward and a pushover. Someone, who can't even write his own songs anymore.
And it was all because of them.
Heck, he couldn't even write on his own twitter and Facebook page! Only social media Frans could use was Instagram, and they even had his Instagram passwords too. In case he posts something wrong. They control what he sings about, what he wears, who he talks with, and they even control his relationship status.
"Oh and Madison comes before the interview, all you two need to do is just walk around the city little bit. Catch paparazzis and do selfies." With that Martha went back to his paperwork. They called Madison? Great. Frans felt a mix of emotions. He was happy to get out of there, but his escape was Madison? He couldn't decided which was worse.
Madison was his hired girlfriend. And soon enough they would have a dramaticbreakup. So the management would get him a new song, something about a breakup. Well, more drama more attention, more attention more money. Frans rolled his eyes at those thoughts.
Money.
Money was what had pulled him into this misery at the first place.
"Well? Are you going or what? We don't have all day." Martha said impatiently, glaring at Frans. Frans held back the urge to roll his eyes at the woman. He didn't want to piss them off really badly, or well, he simply couldn't.
Without saying anything, he stood up and strolled out of the plain office. He sighed and tiredly made his way to the elevator. He wished he could go home. All he wanted at that moment was sleep and rest. To relax in a pool and have a milkshake. No interviews, no concerts, no lies.
As the metallic elevator doors opened, he was pulled out of his sleepy daydream, when a girl with bubble gum pink hair walked his way. She had a body every girl would envy, her shades were covering the dark brown color of her wide eyes framed with dark eyelashes. Her high waisted shorts showed off her smooth and a bit toned legs, the white crop top was just a cherry on a cake.
She was indeed a gorgeous girl who knew of her beauty. Without saying anything, Madisons dark red lips attacked Frans'. Her arms snaked around his neck, pulling him closer. Frans didn't exactly enjoy it, but it was part of his job. So he pulled Madison closer.
"Come on big guy, we've got some shopping to do." She whispered in his ear seductively, pulling away from Frans. "Yeah, let's go."
With that the made-up couple walked out of the gigantic building to meet some curious, juicy-stories searching paparazzis. Holding hands and wearing the biggest fake smiles they could muster, they greeted the large crowd and did what they always had to do, they were trying to look as humble as possible, for the sake of making others feel welcomed.
