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Alicia’s point of view

As much as I hated to admit it, I was nervous.

I had a huge crush on the lead singer of Conspiracies and apologies, and I was about to meet them. I knew those kind of crushes were stupid, but hey, everyone has them.

I could see them in the lobby when I got to the fortieth floor. They were a little intimidating sitting there in all their glory. They were all really cute.

 I had to catch my breath. Christian Alexander Housel was right there, he was my favorite!

 It’s not like I wanted to date him, I just really liked to look at him.

He was gorgeous. He had intentionally misplaced brown hair and amazing blue eyes. He was just so pretty. He was about six feet tall, a few inches taller then me. His body wasn’t gross muscley, but he was athletic looking.

Woo, ok. He was that one person who caught me off guard, though I had never actually met him.

I went to the reception desk, to the left of the couches the band members were sitting on and grabbed a tray of food, already prepared. I put it on the coffee table in the center of the couch set, currently occupied by the band.

“Hello guys.” I smiled, “I’m sorry for the delay, it’ll just be a few more minutes.”

They all smiled, said there hello’s and thanked me for the food.

The drummer, Aaron Jackson, was obviously drunk.

“Hey baby,” he shouted at me.

Before I had time to respond a kid ran in waving a piece of paper.

He ran up to the band, and asked for their autographs. The first three smiled and obliged.

When it got to Aaron he just waved it off. “No kid.”

The kid was obviously upset. I quickly went over him..

“Hey,” I kneeled down, so I would be on his level. “I’ll make a deal with you.”

“Yeah?” he questioned, on the verge of tears.

“You give me a smile, and I will get you the autograph of any band you’d like.”

“Any band?” he asked skeptically.

I smiled, I was about to say any living band, but decided against it. I could always go on eBay. So I just nodded.

“Taking Back Sunday?”

I grinned, that was easy enough, “Done.” I grabbed a piece of paper and jotted down a note.

“Now do you see that pretty girl there,” I asked pointing to the secretary, whom you could see through one of the many windows in the office. He nodded. “Well her name is Sarah, you give this to her, and she will make sure you get it.”

He smiled and ran towards the door.

“That’s right kid,” the drunken drummer yelled behind him.

I gave him a cold look, “What was that?”

In that next second he reached out and grabbed my ass.

I spun around, “Oh hell no!”

“Psh I’m famous!” He exclaimed, as if that made it ok.

His band members were a little frantic. They were all trying to shut him up at once, while simultaneously apologizing for his behavior.

I barely noticed them, “And you think that makes it ok for you to be a jack ass!?”

He ignored me, “You’re hot.”

“Get out,” I said, my tone was annoyed, but I wasn’t yelling.

“Psh, I’m famous,” He stated one more time.

“Yes,” I smiled bitterly, “You’re famous today and you enjoy that, because it won’t last long. Then you’re going to spend the next twenty years of your life as an obnoxious alcoholic in and out of rehab, completely out of work. No one is going to remember you name, until one day VH1 has a celebrity fat camp, and you’re going to weasel your way on it. People are going to tune in, and wonder who the hell you are. Then they’re going to show a clip of your band and people are going to go “Oh, no wait, who the hell he is?” They’ll almost tune out, annoyed at how desperate VH1 has become to call a guy like you a celebrity, then you’ll do something completely idiotic. They’ll tell all of their friends about this retard on this one show. Then you’ll spend the remainder of your life as “that ass, who was on that reality show”. When you walk down the streets people will shout, and throw things at you, if they recognize you that is. So if I were you, I would stop burning my fucking bridges. Starting with kids like that, so when you die of you’re drug over dose, and trust me you will, at least one person will say “That sucks” as opposed to smiling and telling his kids he actually met that jerk once.”

The band members wore varying degrees of surprise, anguish and amusement.

Aaron just stared into space. Then he laughed, “You’re hot.”

I just rolled my eyes and walked to the reception desk.

“Hey Sarah, could you reschedule that meeting for me?”

She nodded, “For when?”

I just shrugged, “Next weekish.”

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