Masks (Luke Hemmings)

1

"And the winner is ... Miki Bishop!"  The TV turned off with a press of the button that I held in my hand. Sighing as I rewound the video to watch it for the twenty-seventh time, I realised that doing this didn't make my decision any easier. If anything, watching me take the final step to achieving my career dream on television repeatedly had only somehow made it teven more tremendously difficult to choose. 

~

My heels clicked against the floor as I walked, attracting unwanted attention to my dishevelled stature. I began to walk at a brisker pace, yet with that came an amplified sound being made by my shoes. Soon, a hand on my shoulder spun me around. "Miki, darling! The team is just about to have lunch. You should join," A feminine voice, which I soon associated with my PR manager, Kristy, spoke in a saccharine tone. With this was accompanied an equally overwhelming smile, somehow putting on display all 32 of her blinding white teeth. "Although, you might want to get changed." Giving me a once over with her lined eyes, her smile turned to a grimace, and without a word, she spun me around in order to doll me up for the lunch I was supposedly attending. 

In what seemed to me like an eternity, but in reality was a mere twenty minutes, I stepped out of the dressing room dressed in a midi-length white skirt and cropped top with heels, and was escorted into a black car with Kristy. 

"So, Miki, album's out next week. Exciting!" She smiled giddily at me. Regardless of her countless nitpicking and over-compensated happiness, Kristy worked her ass off to make sure that I had the best situations and publicity possible to promote any product I was releasing. 

"Yeah, it's just a relief to be able to get it over done with, to be honest." I closed my eyes and inhaled a large amount of fresh, crisp air to clear my head. The last few weeks had been mad (to say the least), and it was only going to get worse from here on in. The week before release was always the most hectic, and it was simulataneously the worst and the best week of my life.

"Ok, so let me brief you on what's about to go down. " She whipped out her phone and turned to face me. "Right now, we're going to a lunch hosted by Richie Drummond." I stared at her blankly, my expression giving away the lack of recognition my mind held to that name. Kristy sighed and explained to me that he was the man who came up with the tacky yet somehow staggeringly successful advertising and publicity schemes. "Basically, he's got some fancy ass new scheme that he wants to pitch you, and then we have the 3 o'clock Seacrest appearance, and..." The ever-running monologue I had become accustomed to tuning out soon became white noise, and I faced out of the window. The overcast sky glared down. L.A. was normally impeccable in terms of weather, yet somehow today it was overbearingly grey, almost as if the sky could swallow you up and never let you go. I slipped into yet another one of my pointless thought trains. This particular one took me back to the days when I was still an unknown teenager trying to get into the infamous music industry. I had hit rock bottom and sky high, and every thing in between. I had slept in homeless shelters. As cliche as it sounded, I had come from nothing. I had seen the worst, and now to be in a place where anything I could possibly wish for was a mere phone call away, it amazed me. 

We pulled up to outside the restaurant and the door opened for me. Bracing myself for the onhaul of the multiple flashing lights creating a barrier around me, I was escorted through the mass gathered at the door, and finally through to the peaceful and grand room decorated with modern, simplistic lights and high ceilings. I was immediately thrust into the ordeal of greeting strangers that seemed to know me a little too well, and I was to smile and politely move on to the next one. This went on for a while, until we were seated at the table that was adorned with gorgeous place cards to indicate us to our seats for the afternoon, Almost instantly after I saw Kristy's name next to mine, I sent out a silent prayer to whoever it was that wanted to ensure my being able to get through the lunch without either throwing a tantrum or falling asleep. 

The lunch commenced, and all went smoothly, thankfully. But I was still anticipating the big scheme that Richie had planned to pitch today. No mention of it had come up as yet, and to be wholly truthful, I was a little intimidated by the supposed calm before the storm. As the minutes creeped up on the clock, so did the butterflies in my stomach. Following what I would look back and say had been the most anxious I had been in eons, Richie approached me with two glasses of champagne in his hand. Offering one to me, he shook my hand firmly and introduced himself. 

"Ms. Bishop, I believe?" I nodded and smiled. "Pleasure to finally be graced with your prescence." I simply smiled some more, and my eyes flickered to my side. Seeing Kristy's silhouette softened my tensed stature, and the three of us began to ease in to light conversation. 

"Well, as you may be aware, I hosted this lunch today in order to introduce to you a marketing strategy to ensure that your albums and product sales go through the roof." He winked as though he was appealing to me in a sense, yet the only thing keeping me persevering through the conversations was Kristy's hand on the small of my back, as if supporting me up. She knew I hated these things, and therefore took it upon herself to be my babysitter at events like this one. 

"Now, Ms. Bishop, you must have knowledge of a band called 5 Seconds Of Summer?" He smiled and nodded in my direction, waiting for a response. Well, fuck, this was going in a different direction to what I anticipated. Suddenly surged with alertness, I nodded slowly.

"I know of them, yes." I spoke cautiously, mindful that whatever I said could be used against me at any point in the future. 

"And you are aware of a certain band member of said band, Luke Hemmings?" Again, I nodded slowly and waited for him to continue his thus far pointless talk.

"Well, with the frankly mind-boggling success of their band, we at Capitol Records agree that it would be beneficial for both parties if Mr. Hemmings were to be your mentor, and be photographed around with you in order to widen your fanbase." I sighed and slumped. If there was one thing I wanted to avoid, it was second-hand fame. Knowing all too well that decisions were often made without my knowing, my first question to Richie was: "Do I get a choice in this?" to which he replied with a chuckle and a pat on my shoulder. He murmured something in Kristy's ear and sauntered off, mingling seamlessly with the other guests present. 

I turned to face Kristy, and without uttering a single word. she knew I wasn't content with the decision made by the agents at Capitol. I turned swiftly on my heel and stormed out of the door and into the car. "Drive," I ordered. I knew perfectly well that it was terribly unreasonable to be so adamant about the tiniest of things, but the one trap I wanted to stay away from was second-hand fame. I had repeated it numerous times to both Kristy and the other PR managers I had, yet all it took was one order from some old fat man in a suit and I was to be 5SOS' new prodigy. My phone vibrated in my hand, and lo and behold, a text from Richie Drummond telling me that he had forwarded my number to Luke Hemmings lit up my screen. I groaned and ran my hands through my hair. Flustered and quite frankly, pissed off, I arrived at my penthouse apartment.

"@MikiOfficial: so i guess friends can be bought."