It's Been A Long Year; Since We Last Spoke

Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Nick’s POV

I’m about to order take out for dinner, considering I wasn’t in the mood to really cook and I’m not that good anyway. I was dying for some chinese for once. I don’t normally have chinese food, but sometimes I like to pork away.

Thankfully chinese is not that bad for you, but I will do some running on the treadmill in my hotel room just in case I can’t get my blood sugar levels down.

I know it seems weird to have a treadmill, but I have a special room, it’s not just one... it’s like 2 big rooms. I paid a little extra, but I always did anyway. So I have the gym part of the room, and then my bedroom. The gym part is next the kitchen and sitting area.

Technically I rent this room, so this room is always reserved for me. It’s like a third home, if I count the one I used to live in when I was younger. I use this room whether I’m staying in New York. I know the owners really well.

Anyway so today was weird.

I mean, I don’t know if it will get weirder... but it was almost surreal getting a call from Dianna. She’s great, but it felt weird. Why would she want to meet up with me when Demi wants nothing to do with me anymore?

It’s strange all of sudden that she’s got in touch with me when it’s been since November 2010 that Demi spoke to me... and it’s now March 2012. Nearly 2 years have gone by.

But I guess it’s something major.... maybe Demi’s actually got bad again and she wants to ask me for help? I don’t know.

My stomach rumbled. Right well I better order food.

I picked up my cellphone from the table and dialled the number that I knew so well for New York Asian, which also was a sushi takeaway place too.

“Hello this is New York Asian Takeaway how may I help you?” I recognised the Chinese man’s voice who I had spoken to before, but never catched his name.

“Hi there. Could I order number 11, chicken peanut satay, erm.. number 98, crispy chilli beef and... the plain chow mein please.”

“Okay... that’s number 11, 98 and err...151. Okay got it. Anything else?”

“No thank you. Could you deliver it please?”

“Err yes... what’s your address?”

“Paramount Hotel, 235 West 46th Street.” There was a pause.

“Paramount Hotel yes?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay yes. Your order shall be there in about 10 to 15 minutes.. ok?”

“Yes thank you that’s fine.”

“Okay bye bye.”

I know it seems weird, but whether I talk to someone that works at a restaurant or any place where they’re trying and earn a living, I always wonder if I could have ended up like that. I mean I wouldn’t mind, but I can imagine it’s a poor suffering for some when they have so little money. I’m glad that I am one of those people though that didn’t let the fame go to my head, unlike some famous people.

I hated how I get treated like I’m something better than people who aren’t famous. I think it’s really unfair sometimes.

I’m just as successful as a high paid lawyer or businessman... but their work is never seen by anybody because it’s a typical job. But it’s still successful.

I mean I’m 19 for christs sake! Why do I get treated like royalty all the time? Or at least most of the time. It doesn’t make any sense to me.

To pass some time over for a little bit I decided to go into the bedroom part of the suite and picked up my guitar that was by the window, it was my oldest acoustic guitar that I always took with me. I also had my electric guitar in the cupboard, but that was for gigs.