A Bottle of Hairdye

Chapter Seven - Radio Interview

Hey, I know before I said this chapter would be the concert, but I've yet to write too much for that. I didnt want to leave everyone hanging for much longer, so here's the bit (besides the concert) that I have written. It's increbily short, but still important for the story. Hope someone actually likes it :) I wont be updating unitl 3 comments and 6 votes :)

Ps. I've been making a million covers, because I never seemed to like the past one :/ But then I made this new one, and I was just wondering if anyone else likes it? :)

NOT EDITED

BTW The radio station in made up.

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Do you ever look back and cringe at who you were? How you acted? The things you did?

It’s an acrimonious feeling, thinking about previous versions of myself. I know I’ve changed drastically in two years, but that doesn’t prevent me from regretting everything I was before.

I was gullible, naive, stupid, and any other word you can think of to sum up a wide eyed sophomore. My cares surrounded fashion trends, celebrity gossip, and what the cafeteria would be serving that week. Sure, I had the dream of singing one day, but I wasn’t doing anything to achieve it. Shooting stars and blooming dandelions were the only actions I took, making a simple wish that things would fall into my lap. I wished for everything, including the Hollywood high school experience, which I got.

The moment Derrick Ollmen, a junior, walked up to my locker with a single rose in hand, I was putty in his grasp. Every girl pinned after him, and the fact that he singled me out and wanted me sent a warm fuzzy wave through my spine.

But I learned that when they say be careful what you wish for, they mean it.

During the three months I spent on Derricks arm, Nolan was just as present. They had been best friends since diapers, following in the footsteps of their fathers who had been roommates in collage.

Peeking at Nolan sitting outside the radio booth, I couldn’t help but wonder why he was here. Not here as in the studio for the interview, but here like Ottawa. He used to go on and on about taking a hockey scholarship in the US the second he graduated, and get the hell out of the small neighborhood we all lived in. He was 19 now, and obviously he’d graduated, so why wasn’t he taking slap shots in collage?

“Christina, are you with us?” The host of 101.3 FM laughed, leaning back in his chair.

Giggling along with Kyle nervously, I readjusted my stool to be closer to the egg shaped mic in front of me, “Sorry, just thinking about the concert tonight”

It was a perfect excuse really.

He nodded in understanding and his eyes sparked with the glint of a new discussion, “It’s been all over the media, the tickets were sold out in the blink of an eye!”

“My fans are incredible, I couldn’t believe it when I found out all the tickets were already gone within the hour” I gushed with a toothy smile, “I could barely find a spot for my own mother!”

I picked up my half empty plastic water bottle, draining the rest of its contents. Radio interviews had a lot more talking than tv, not to mention that depending on the interviewer, they could go on for a while. We were approaching the hour mark.

“Well I hope Mamma H managed to get in” He teased, using the nickname my fans had dubbed my mother. I nodded happily, before realizing it was radio and voiced the ‘yes’ out loud.

“So I have to ask, is the young man behind the glass your new beau?” Kyle leaned forward a little, talking in a hushed tone into the microphone, as if it made a difference.

 “No, he’s my new assistant” I had told him that earlier, but based on the mischievous grin playing on his lips, I knew it was only a jumping point, making me inwardly groan.

“You, Miss Christina, are one mystery that Hollywood cant get enough of,” He began slyly, “Unlike every other chart topper, you never seem to have any eye candy”

“I like my independence” I said flatly. He wasn’t the first to take a bite of the ‘secret boyfriend’ story that the media had formulated around my love life.

“But you have dated, correct?”

“Yes” I spoke cautiously, in the back of my mind recalling every lecture from Sophie about how my words could be easily twisted.

“Because it just so happens we received an anonymous tip that you dated…” He glanced down at the sheet lying in front of him, searching for the name. I was just sitting there praying he was about to say Henry Jordan, the boy I had a two hour relationship with in kindergarten so he would let me use his jar of finger paint.

“Derrick Ollmen”

“Yes” I was silently seething, thinking solely of punching the snooping rat in the neck. Maybe if I could disconnect the mic from its permanent stand; I could bludgeon him with it. Who the fuck gave the tip? The paps were always sneaky, going as far as finding out the exact time of my birth and the doctor who delivered me, but this was one subject that had yet to surface.

“How did that g-“

Nolan came barging into the booth, a scowl on his face, “We need to get going”

His strong hand gripped my forearm, dragging me out of the room.

For a moment I thought he was on my side, until as we walked out of the building he explained, “Derrick doesn’t need the media biting his ass because of you”

“It’s not like I’m the one who told them” I scoffed, his anger towards me was definitely not reasonable, “I don’t need them knowing every detail of my life”

He halted at the sidewalk, nearly causing me to slam into his back, “Really? Because last I remember you seemed to like the attention”

His eyes were boiling, burning my own as they glared.

“This conversation is over” My own defiant stare was no match for his, and my voice became nothing but a harsh yet weak testament to it.

The combat boots on my feet made loud stomps as I slipped past him and got in his car, almost ripping the lousy door right off. I kept my eyes trained out the passenger window, refusing to look anywhere else even when I heard the loud echo of his own door slamming angrily.