Falling For a Nepo Baby (Danny Gonzalez X Fox SZN)

Chapter Three: Ned Flames' tragic life

Chapter Song: "Le Motif " by Pelicannapper

Fox SZN slammed his fists into the steering wheel, blaring the horn and scaring an alley cat. The gangly creature leaped 3 feet in the air before knocking over a trash can and causing a car accident. Luckily, Ned had been recording so he could sample that sound in his next song.

He took a minute to calm down before driving. Last time Ned had road rage, he accidentally caused a sixty-car pileup. Whoopsie daisy!

Anyways, Ned put his car in drive and pulled away from the skeezy bar. Then he drove to his private helicopter pad where his personal helicopter chauffeur waited for him. He put on his headphones as the helicopter helicoptered away and stared out the window dramatically to his own music. Fox SZN sighed loudly, hoping someone would hear.

"Everything okay?" The pilot asked, his voice raised so Ned could hear him over the whir of the  choppers. They soared over the city, and Ned admired the Chicago city-scape. From way up here, he couldn't even see the homeless people.

"My life is so hard..." he answered, placing one hand on the window while continuing to stare out of it. "No one cares about my music. People are only nice to me because my dad is a bazillionaire."

"That's gotta be tough," said the pilot after a moment of contemplation. "You know, after my wife was diagnosed with cancer, and her medical debt crippled my family, I was depressed, too. But someone said something to me I'll never forget. They said-"

Ned SZN put his headphones back in, totally bored by his helicopter chauffeur's boring story. He went back to feeling sorry for himself. His life was the worst; no one had ever suffered more!

After dropping Ned off at his giant mansion, Carl (that's the pilot's name btw) went home to his run-down 2 bedroom apartment that was all his family could afford (and yet, they were still struggling financially).

I fucking hate capitalism.

Anyways, a butler greeted Fox SZN as he approached the large double doors past the courtyard, private helicopter landing, and alligator moat. Ned hung his head in sadness and walked past without doing their super cool and super secret handshake (that he forced all of his staff to do or else they'd get fired).

Ned glanced up at the ceiling in the foyer of his mansion and did a once over of the 12 diamond Tiffany chandeliers just to make sure no one had broken in and stolen one. It was usually hard to be depressed surrounded by his precious chandeliers, and yet, Ned just couldn't get over Danny's rejection.

"Is something troubling you, master Flames?" Phil, Ned's butler, asked in a fake British accent. Ned thought all butlers should be British, so he had him take on a fake accent for authenticity. He also forced Phil to call him master...fucking sick freak.

Ned fell to the ground in tears, and collapsed onto his hands and knees, slightly ruffling the long red velour rug that stretched from the doors to the grand staircase. Immediately, one of his many maids rushed to fix it.

"I don't want to talk about it, Phil," Ned said through his sobs, kicking his feet and punching the ground like a toddler crying over a broken toy.

"Alright. Maybe I could accompany you to your indoor water park today? Or would you prefer a nice relaxing spa night?" Phil asked, handing Ned a pillow so he could rest his head while tantruming.

"No thanks, Phil, I...I think I'll bathe myself today," he responded, his sobs quieting slightly as he calmed down.

"Really sir?" Phil objected, visibly taken aback. "What about the places you can't reach?"

"Well...I guess I could use a little help with those..." Fox SZN shrugged.

And so, as Phil carried Ned Flames up the stairs, the pop star resigned himself to a life of quiet dignity and loneliness. He didn't need the approval of anyone (except maybe his dad, you know, so he could continue to live in a mansion), not even that evil home-wrecking YouTuber Danny Gonzalez.

"If you don't mind me saying, sir-" Phil said, gently scrubbing Ned's ass with a loofah.

"Master," Ned corrected.

"Right. Sorry," Phil apologized, setting the loofah down. He poured some kids lavender bubble bath into the golden claw foot tub, and Ned began to splash around. "As I was saying, this, umm...mood...wouldn't have to do with what was on the radio earlier, would it?"

Ned's ears perked, "No, why, what was on the radio earlier?"

"I'm not sure I should say..." Phil trailed off, clearly uncomfortable. The sleeves of his silly butler tuxedo were all wet.

"Tell me. Oh, and pass me ducky please?" Ned made grabby hands for his rubber duck toy, ducky.

"Well," Phil stalled, handing his master the rubber duck. "Pelicannapper's latest single was on the radio earlier..."

Ned screamed, and then thrashed around in the tub wildly.

"I'm sorry, I thought you knew," Phil tried to calm him down, but Ned was inconsolable. Today was just one blow after another, and not the good kinds of blow, either. Pelicannapper? His musical mortal enemy? On the radio??? Ned wanted to drown himself.

"How could this happen..." Ned cried into his hands.

"I don't know sir. Clearly America has poor taste. Would you like your father to have a word with the radio station?" Phil asked, already dialing Ted Flame's number.

"No," Fox SZN said finally. "Today was a sign. I need to stop relying on other people to do everything for me. Towel?"

Phil instinctively reached for Ned's towel and held it out. They walked together to the master bedroom, and Phil stood outside Ned's door just in case he had a nightmare or something, but the pop star couldn't sleep anyway.

He tossed and turned in his silk sheets embroidered with golden thread, and thought hateful thoughts. How could Pelicannapper have gotten on mainstream radio before him?

Anyone who was anyone in the music industry had heard of their very public beef, and Ned was worried his reputation would suffer a hit if Pelicannapper became more popular than him.

The two musicians had feuded for a long time. Their animosity stemmed from some very dramatic differences that fans of both couldn't help but compare. It was classic, really. While Ned was a nepo baby who had the world handed to him on a silver platter, Pelicannapper was just some broke bitch with nothing but GarageBand and a dream.

That night, the answer came to Ned in a drug-fueled dream (the drug was melatonin): he needed to hire a PR team.

"Why, that's a great idea, master," Phil said, rubbing Ned's feet the next morning.

"You think?" Ned cocked his head.

"Yes, indeed," Phil said, feeding Fox SZN another bite of his breakfast. "Here comes the airplane!" Phil chirped in a sing-song voice, making motor sounds with his mouth and waving around a forkful of bacon.

"We could even hire someone to, I don't know, react to my music or something." Ned shrugged.

"Marvelous idea," Phil agreed. "You need to chew, now. May I assist you?"

"No, thanks. I think I've got chewing by myself all figured out now," Ned said confidently. He managed to chew and swallow all his food by himself, a sure sign that his life was going in the right direction!

"Phil, have a PR team assembled. And...tell them to hire someone to review my music," Ned ordered. (I don't really know what a PR team does or what a PR team even is lol but this is my story so I can do whatever I want)

"Like...some kind of...YouTube sponsorship or something?"

"Why, yes! That would work perfectly!" Ned exclaimed. "A reaction channel reacting to my music? I don't see how that could possibly go wrong!"