Without saying another word to him, I follow him out and into the limousine that waits at the back. I have to pretend that getting in a limo isn't a big deal to me, even though I'm like a little girl on the inside, not being able to contain my jaw dropping as soon I slide inside. I'm sure I light up a little too much for Tanners' grim mood because he looks at me a little too long. I don't return it, don't even really acknowledge that he was looking at me.
By the time we reach what I suppose is his house, I'm galking. I can't help it, it's outrageous how spectacular these houses are, not to mention the cars also roaming the streets of whatever this neighborhood is. It's private, that's for one, and it takes the driver a handful of papers to confirm that he is who he says he is.
"Always this tight?" I had asked, obviously strained to make a conversation. Even though the atmosphere isn't exactly the best to catch up.
"Mostly." He said and returned to looking at his phone. He was texting someone named Monica, not that I was reading his messages, it was just when he looked down, I just caught a glimpse of his screen. Either way, I chose to look out the window instead of being accused of looking.
I kept quiet until we get to his house, where I lose my barrier of self control. Everything is magnificent. Large arching walls that are larger than the next, brick columns leap from either side and a staircase that lowers from the upper level.
"This place is amazing," I say in awe as we follow the steps inside to a huge foyer that leads into the living room from the left and the staircase to the right. In front, the living room connects onto the kitchen and as we move closer, I can see the faint outline of the backyard through the kitchen doors as we pass by.
"Thanks. Quincy got it for me not long ago." Tanner says, looking over the place as he collapses onto the couch, remote in hand. Of course he did, i want to say. I awkwardly follow him, sitting in the chair near across from him and taking out my notebook.
"So, do you want to start now, or?" I ask.
"Sure. Just shoot." He doesn't divert his attention off the tv but nonetheless motions me on.
"Alright. First off I'm just going to get a jist of your personality. So, just name your priorities," I say, honestly a little interested myself.
"Don't you know my personality well enough?" He asks before leaning farther back in his seat, deciding on a channel, and glancing at me. He sighs, "Career, friends, and reputation."
That was obviously something Quincy told him to say. Maybe his career and friends are his but if he really cared about his reputation, he'd actually try to do good things besides sleep with models and be in the news for getting a ticket or something. He'd make an actual effort instead of scheduled hospital visits and benefit concerts just for publicity.
I almost snort at the fact he didn't say family. His dad may be distant but it doesn't give him room to exclude his mother.
Either way, I jot down the answer and look back to him. "Where do you feel like your career is heading and is that a good direction for your music to go?"
"Up. Definitely up. Within my first year, from what's happened, I think that's the only direction I can go. And yeah, I think my music will only benefit from the popularity," He explains, running a hand through his hair. I restrain from rolling my eyes, and swipe my bangs from my face.
"Okay.." I say, glancing over my notes. "What means the most to you?"
"The fans definitely." He says quickly, as if automatic. As if he'd be trained to do so.
I put down my pen. "Off the record," I say. "What really is?"
He glances at me, then grins. "What makes you think I'm joking?"
