Muse (h.s.)

chapter one

"Darling, nothing has ever been handed to me. This lifestyle," He makes a languid gesture with his hand to bring attention to the dimly lit club, "is all just the result of my hard work."

The girl on his side smiles up at him with admiration, eagerly nodding, and he glows from the attention.

I close my eyes tiredly as I position my hands under my head to lean on, glaring daggers at him in hope he can hear my silent pleas to go home.

Unsurprisingly, the entire night has been dominated by him.

Earlier, we had performed one of our last shows of the tour. The venue was small, full of girls perked up on top of men's shoulders, spilling their beers with every dance move.

I had peaked my head out from behind the curtain to witness the crowd's excited screams and feel their love radiate onto the stage as they waited for Harry.

I felt the energy dissipate the longer he ignored his arrival time. It was an hour later when he finally stumbled onto the stage in a drunken stupor, yelling profanities at the crowd as he yanked his guitar from one of the stage hands.

Meanwhile, I was forced to stand on the sidelines of the venue and sweat as all my hard work was being wasted as he shined every bottle on the fucking Northeast coast.

Despite the horrible start to the show, he always wins the crowd over in the end. His hands will curl around the microphone as he scans his eyes across the crowd, staring deeply into every adoring fan.

Now, I watch him from the other side of the large circular table, beer bottles and a powdered mess littered all over the glass table.

"Harry," The beautiful woman whines as she rubs her hands down her chest, "I am feeling tired, anything you can do to wake me up?"

I almost applaud her effort to make a move on him as he gives her an annoyed glance, "Am I boring you, darling?"

His tone is ice cold, his hubris filling the room with a palpable tension as heads turn to look at the offended rockstar.

He doesn't notice her face blush beyond recognition as she quickly stutters out a lame response, instead he yells at the bartender in request of more whiskey.

I look down again, swirling my straw around my drink as I count the seconds in my head, my hands clenching in frustration when I look at the time on my phone.

My phone rings and I internally groan, knowing it could not have come from a worse person right now.

Hesitantly, I bring the phone up to my ear and attempt to convey an enthusiastic, "Hello!"

"You told me you would only be there for an hour." James immediately cuts me off, knowing that my excitement is just a facade.

I can barely hear him as I look around the grimy club for an exit, cupping my hand near the phone's receiver and sliding out of the booth slowly.

"I know, but it is all just part of the job. I am so sorry, I know the hours are bad." I internally beg him to be understanding.

He is quiet for a moment before speaking softly, "When is enough, enough? You're exhausted, you're getting acne again, and you're not even enjoying yourself anymore."

I bite my lip before turning to the rockstar himself, frustrated tears brimming to my eyes as I see he is whispering in the poor girl's ear as she blushes profusely.

I swallow and look up, sending any tears back before saying my rehearsed line, "I know, but I signed up for—"

He cuts me off as I head outside, "Danny, come on. Where is the confident woman I met? All you've done in the past two years has been for that—" He pauses and I feel him fuming over the line, "—that prick."

I cross my arms as I step into the night, friends smoking cigarettes on the wall of the club and newly formed couples stumbling into cabs and each other's arms.

"I can't just leave, James."

"Yes, you can." He seethes. The line is dead for a few moments before he sighs again and speaks slowly, "Danny, whatever you choose to do is your life. You know I will support you in whatever you want, but look at yourself from my perspective. You are miserable. I-I'm trying so hard to be supportive of you, but it's just fucking hard when you're wasting the best years of your life, and for what?"

In the middle of his speech, I see the 'prick' shove open the door to the club, the petite woman being basically suffocated as he presses her against the wall as they make out with each other.

He waves his hand dismissively toward the curb and the valet practically sprint at his vague command to grab his driver from the break room.

"I'm so sorry, James, what were you saying?" I rub my hand along my face as I see the woman throw up all over the pavement.

"Daniella, you need to get out and find a new job—" I tune James out as I see Harry slide into the awaiting car and leave me standing alone at the curb, again.

"You're right."