LUV - A Billie Story

chapter one: grammy's

Jack POV:

As a person, I was just one big pile of contradictions.

And I didn't really like being around people all too much.

Sometimes it's just, ew, people.

I had friends sure but overall, us introverts would rather stare at Netflix all day eating a bag of chips instead of talking to new people. I mean, cool, new people can be cool, but they don't taste like Hot Fries.

Something about being alone in your own space, spoiling yourself with bags of diabetes and heart attack, and being lovely all alone really vibed with me. Also, which hot fries brand do ya'll like? Andy Capp's is my favorite.

But yeah, anyways, being in love with music didn't help either. It seemed all of my friends couldn't grasp my passions as much as I did, so in turn, as I got more famous, I started to simply drift away with some, all but one, but I'd rather not talk about her right now.

Either way, the Grammy's were tonight and I have to go. Which meant I had to see people and all. I didn't make a record this year because of well, reasons, but anyways, going to the Grammy's is probably going to be a rough event.

I just really didn't feel like going.

Like really didn't.

I looked at my phone. The buzz being hard to ignore, I picked it up.

"Hello?"

"You ready?" my manager Jenny asked, who was also my twin sister.

"Yeah, just give me a minute." I got up from my bed and yolo-chugged the last few crumbs of chips. I can't be the only one who does that, right?

I decided to wear jeans, sneakers, and a jean-coat to the Grammy's. Totally punk rock ethic. First off, I just didn't like the high-class look and it didn't feel good wearing a tie and tuxedo all the time.

As I went down the elevator from my apartment building, the doorman, Bubbi, waved at me like he always does.

"Keep the building tidied up Bubbi."

"Have a good day Jack. Also, there was something in the mail for ya."

"I'll check it out," I smiled, "Thank you."

I pushed the door to see the bright lights of ugly Los Angeles in all of it's glory. There is a ton gems about this place, the rich luxurious history, the blockbuster movies, the endless tourism, y'know? I used to love it here. With all my heart, I really did.

But you then add the fact that I can't walk a block without seeing someone's smelly shit or turd on the sidewalk, the violent crime that casts a shadow over the more dangerous areas, some of the snobby people, I almost feel sorry for the damn place. I mean, last time I went down to my local pizzeria to grab a bite, a fucker decided to mug my ass, that is until I pointed my .38 at his face, then he shit his pants and probably ran forty blocks.

You see, my family, or what used to be them, used to own a part of the damn city of New York, or at least portion of it that was signifcant. Real dangerous Mafia guys and gals in suits and dresses, slicked back hair, thick accents in De Niro and Joe Pesci movies, Home Alone, that sort of stuff? That's the thing, you see? I did shoot, I shot, I killed, saw people's brains turn into nothing but red paste, and I also had a career in music, still do sort of.

All by when he was only 20.

Fucking amazing.

Music is great, always has been. The ability to really create something your own is difficult, but the best feeling in the world once you're able to get the wheels churning.