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O.O Thanks to Butler, to whom I owe this chapter, I didn’t forget this story existed. Butler, you should consider yourself a Literary Hero.
“It’s fine.” Walter dropped the towel he was using to try his hair on spill, using his foot to sop up the mess. “The carpet’s red, no one will see it.”
“You just tarnished the reputation of an eight-hundred thousand dollar suite, Douche-Bags.”
“They gave it to us for free.” Blaze countered, throwing him a grin. “Which should account for something.”
Reggie shook his head at the two, and stood just as the phone began to ring. Raising an eyebrow, he walked over to the phone on the bedside table and picked up the receiver. “Yeah?”
“Is this the Azalea Suite?” The voice on the other end buzzed.
“Yup.” Reggie answered cheerily. “You have reached Three Dudes With Money Incorporated. We’re sorry, but only two of our dudes are available at this time, as one is nursing a hang-over-”
“Watch it, Fuck-Face.” He laughed, raising his arm to shield himself from the attack of the flying butter. Blaze was awful pissy on Alcohol Mondays.
“I see…” The voice on the other hand ‘hmm-ed’. “This is Bryce Relmon, and I will be serving as your agent and publicist, appointed by Werolife Industries.”
“Of course.” Reggie smirked to himself as he thought about all the Hell they were going to put this guy through.
“And, the car is waiting outside right now to take us to Tracy T. Studios-”
“Fuck! That’s Right!”
“I’ll be sending up a stylist-”
“Screw that! I need to get a fuckin’ shower!” He hung up and turned to find the other two staring at his.
“Tracy T.!”
“Shit!”
“Fuck, we gotta move!”
“Hurry up!” Someone behind him pushed. “Make up! Make Up!”
“What the Hell do I need Make-Up for?!”
“Let’s see what we have in wardrobe for this kid!”
“But, my clothes-”
“Something ‘inner city’! Something ‘Brooklyn’!”
“What the Fuck are you talkin’ about?!”
The man, tall and too-chic-to-be-straight, pushed him into a room lined with clothes from every brand-name, every style. His head pounded at the thought of even touching the Sean John ‘Thou Shalt Conquer’ T-Shirt the man was throwing at him, but he caught it anyway. And the jeans. And the damn ‘pimpin’ shoes. He was going to look so “Brooklyn” that his real Brooklyn friends were going to deny his existence.
“Get yo’ hands off me!” Turning around sharply, he spotted Reggie and grinned. He seemed to be fighting off a lady with a comb. “I don’t care if it’s fuckin’ platinum, I ain’t gonna wear that damn hat! No Way In Hell!”
The only one looking composed was Walter. He was going over shirts with the stylist, checking out the jeans, nearly fainting at the mention of price. They loved him. Said he had “Preppy Charm”. Stuck him in Ralph Lauren, head-to-toe, gave him some edgy haircut that brought out his eyes and stood around him in awe. They were caught in his absolute charisma and all-around good-guy-type allure. They turned him into a model.
Reggie and Blaze looked at each other in amazement.
No Way would they ever look that good.
She’d been grilling them live for about an hour. Mostly focusing on Walter. He didn’t know why he was being targeted by this fake red-head and all her charms, but he wasn’t about to disappoint. He was batting answers back and forth with her easily, ignoring the small ‘audience’, and all the flash that came with the cameras.
Somehow, T.V. was easier than the stage.
“How did you feel when you heard your name?”
This was the third time she had asked him that.
“Amazing. Like, I don’t know, just…” He pushed a sheepish smile to his lips and leaned on the armrest of the chair. “Like I could do anything.”
Reggie turned to him with a grin, and Blaze nodded with agreement. For some reason, neither noticed she’d barely spoken to them at all. Or, at least, they weren’t showing it.
“Uh-Huh.” She smiled. “So, let me get to what the fans want to know, hm?”
“What Fans?” Reggie quipped, and they all laughed like they hadn’t in years. Fake. Oh-So-Very Fake. Walter longed for something real.
“So…” She turned first to Reggie. “Any girls in your life, Mr. Perez?” She rolled the ‘r’, and Reggie flinched.
“Nope. Single, and lookin’.” He winked at the camera roguishly, and the crowd burst into wolf-whistles and cat-calls.
“What about you, Blaze?”
“Ah… Single, but not really lookin’.” The crowd fell into disappointed moans. Walter grew annoyed, but smiled, refusing to show it.
“And, you, Walter? Any ladies on the scene?”
He gulped in a breath of air, and he knew his face was going crimson.
“Actually…” He laughed nervously. “I’m not exactly looking for a lady.”
The crowd suddenly slowed its applause. All eyes were on him. He felt the need to clarify.
“I’m Gay.”
He didn’t hear the applause or the shouts of ‘You Go, Boy!’ He wasn’t listening. He felt Blaze turn toward him, blinking silently. Reggie was staring at him, eyes nearly popping out of his skull.
