December 4, 1971, 12 PM GMT
"Jimi Hendrix, Jim Morrison, and now.... Janis Joplin..." Sighing deeply, my agent, Harrison, grabbed my hand "I think you might be next to join... the club."
"Don't touch me." My hand jolted away from his, instantly reaching for another one of those cigarettes given to me by some groupie. As the cigar's bitter scent filled my lungs, my eyelids closed with pleasure; I'd be feeling fantastic again soon.
His weary eyes were full of worry, "You really need to quit using that stuff... it's not-"
"Don't tell me what to do! You're my bloody manager- not my mother!" The floor seemed to sway as I stood up, "Stop telling me what to do- you're- you're insane- THAT'S ALL YOU ARE!"
Harrison knew about the drugs- he knew practically everything... the bloody know it all- "Well, you're my responsibility- I'm your manager... David."
"Well- Well-" My lips trembled, "Stop it! Stop it now! Or- or you're fired!"
Knowing exactly what he was doing, Harrison successfully broke the harsh mood, "Now take a seat, David, you're clearly in no state to be standing..." The disappointment in his expression was clear, although he was used to my usual behavior by now.
Blood pulsed through my veins as the room continued to spin, "I don't want to think about it!" With darkness clouding my vision, the harsh office lights burned my eyes. "And- and it's none of your business!"
"David! You're sick!" Placing his large hands on my shoulders, Harrison firmly insisted that I take a seat once more, "You need to slow down, or you'll die before you're even 27 at all!"
December 4, 1971, 8 PM GMT
"I don't care- hurry the bloody hell up before I fire you!" Quickly heading back to my dressing room, I scavenged for pain meds- I couldn't take it anymore- not like this. "HARRISON!"
"YES DAVID!?" Harrison was inside the closet, probably sorting out an outfit- or something.
"COME OUT OF THE BLOODY CLOSET, AND GET MY PAIN MEDS!"
Poking his head out of the closet, Harrison's calm laughter filled the room. "I hope you realize how hysterical you are, and no. I'm not giving you meds just cause you're..." He quickly looked me over, deciding why I'd asked, "Annoyed by the roadies again?"
Groaning, my voice was full of disappointment. "Harrison! I'm literally going to D I E if I hear one more word out of those idiots!" Holding a cigarette between my teeth, I personally searched for the meds, encountering nothing but makeup. "How many bloody tubes of mascara does one man need?"
Harrison's familiar laugh sounded through the dressing room, "Just give up already, they're not in there."
"Fine! Fine! I'll ask somebody else." With Harrison being so stubborn... another source would be necessary if this concert was going to work.
Heading through the backstage area, a technician stopped me in my tracks, "David, you're going on stage soon, would you like to come with me to do a soundcheck?"
"I'll be there in a moment, just let me take care of something real fast."
YOU ARE READING
Forever 27
Short StoryHarrison shook his head, clearly disappointed. "You need to slow down- or you'll die before you're even twenty-seven at all!" Who's to say I even wanted to be 27 at all? (Cover and chapter Image credit goes to @qbuffing on unsplash!)
