Songs to Break Up To (ROAD KINGS #6) by Julie Kriss EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
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- Authors: Julie Kriss
- Language: English
- Genre: contemporary romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 4 MB
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Thirteen Years Ago
Finn
The plane landed at midnight, as sleet came down in the darkness over
Seattle. The flight from Tokyo had been nearly ten hours, and I didn’t
remember most of it, though I had barely slept. I had existed in nothingness,
high in the sky above the rest of the world, inescapable. Plenty of time to
think about being a failure at nineteen.
Only four thousand fans had come to my Tokyo show, in a venue built
for three times that many. And the numbers for the rest of the tour looked
worse.
There were no press to see me off the plane, because the paparazzi
doesn’t care to stay up all night to see a tired nineteen-year-old pop star
walk down a set of steps and into a waiting car. Still, I made sure to look
presentable: moisture drops in my eyes, hair combed, and most importantly
I relaxed my facial muscles so I didn’t look like I was angry or frowning.
Anyone can snap a photo where you look like a mean asshole, when really
you were just exhausted and your face was tilted the wrong way under the
light.
One of the security guys walked me to the car, and another got in the
front passenger seat next to the driver. The security guys worked a rotation,
because no one guy could be expected to work my full schedule, with the
flights, the jet lag, and the crazy hours. No one questioned that I could do it,
though. I didn’t question it, either.
There was no small talk as the car took me to the Seattle outskirts. It
was late. I sat back in the seat, tilting my head back and closing my eyes,
though once again I didn’t sleep. A headache pressed my temples. Someone
was handling my luggage somewhere, transporting it. If I said I was hungry,
I’d be instantly fed. The house where I was going was already clean and
perfect, waiting for my arrival. Everything was taken care of. I should be
sleeping like a baby.
Four thousand tickets, though. It was bad.
My biggest crowd was thirty-five thousand, at a festival four months
after “Ice Cream Girlfriend” released. The crowds were getting smaller, and
everyone noticed.
The people around me were trying to reverse the fall. My agent had set
me up to be seen with a lingerie model while I was in L.A. tomorrow,
which he said was okay because she was eighteen. “She’s an inch taller than
you, but she’s agreed not to wear heels,” he’d said. “People will eat it up.
Make sure to hold her hand. We’re in negotiations for her to be your
Grammy date.”
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