London born Gigi Lastra is struggling to make ends meet let alone make it big in the music business and make a name for herself. Working two jobs to keep her life afloat and provide for her family she's haunted by her past. That's until she meets t...
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"Come on Colt, get up or we'll get caught in traffic again." Will strides into my room and pulls my curtains across, letting in the early morning light. I turn my head on the pillow towards the window and gaze out over the high rise buildings, birds sweep past the room and the sun climbs up the shard warming the sky into a yellow glaze on the retreating dark night.
"Why, where are we going?" I drag a pillow over my head whilst he scuttles around my room.
"Studio." He yanks the pillow away from my face and I wince, my eyes still adjusting to being open.
"Why? What are we doing." He stands at the end of the bed and hesitates,
"Uhm, ironing out a few things and... recording." He looks at me sheepishly,
"Okay...?" I scowl at him, he is one hundred percent hiding something from me, grogginess weighing down my muscles, I roll over and bury my heavy eyelids into the mattress. Too tired to question him, he waltzes out of the room into the living room of the suite.
I swipe my hand down my face with a groan, my callous palms running across my stubble. Five more minutes and I'll get up, maybe ten...
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"Mr Jax," The door of the SUV swings open and two black-suited men stand either side of the car door, blocking some of the flashes that come from the mass crowd forming around the entrance to the label building. The building itself stood out like a saw thumb but a majestic one... if that's even a thing, sometimes just looking at it gives you a sense of pride, knowing you're part of something that big.
I step out of the car and am escorted down the carpet towards the entrance by four muscle machines, all wearing black suits which are double buttoned, they all walk in perfect synchronisation with their hands locked behind them. I pull the hood of my hoodie lower over my forehead, obstructing cameras from getting a picture of my bruised, battered face. I keep my face down looking at my air forces but out of the corner of my eye, I can see, probably hundreds of screaming fans all pushing against the barriers, waving their hands frantically in the air and screaming at me. I roll my eyes and hurry into the lobby, don't get me wrong, it's great I have so many fans but sometimes I just want to go out like a normal person, stop the whole Colton Jax persona for five minutes.
