A day in the life - scomiche

Fame

"Sometimes, the right decision - when made for the wrong reasons - can be a wrong decision."

It was just another publicity stunt; all these things were. Yeah they were labeled as parties, and yeah they were fun, but a lot of it could be chalked down to who could get the most cameras flashing in their face and who could get the most fans raving about their outfits and hairstyles for the next week. Nobody did anything unless it would get media notice; that particular motive silently lurked behind every smile, every event, and every gift. This was Hollywood. It was just how things worked.

Scott knew that, of course. He hadn't always, but as he'd grown and gained experience in the world of showbiz, he'd gotten used to that way of thinking. He knew exactly how to play the media, how to dress just boldly enough to stand out, but not too crazily so as to appear in the highlights of the magazines' fashion blunders page. He was reliably laid-back, cool, and likeable in interviews, and always hot enough to melt wax. He'd been blessed with a lot of talent as well - a powerful voice, a boundless imagination, and a sort of dramatic flare - but everyone knows that success is made of two percent actual musical talent, forty-eight percent luck and the rest is ability to play the crowds. Within two years of starting his career, Scott become a household name. Everyone knew him and everyone liked him. He was Scott Hoying, after all.

The party he was going to was hosted by Mitch Grassi, another of America's sweethearts. Like himself, Mitch's fans were a little more edgy, a little less social, and a little less popular, if anyone was keeping score. He'd come out as gay within the past year, but because Scott knew what to look for, he'd noticed that Mitch's album sales had been dipping a bit beforehand and were now back where they should be. His fans had praised him for his bravery and loved him all the better for coming out, but Scott figured whether Mitch was actually gay was anyone's guess.

Regardless of his sexuality, it was Mitch's pure, sweet voice that his fans loved him for, rather than his good looks or his awkward charm or the complexity of his music, although he did have a bit of all three. In spite of his inability to put together a show of quite the same caliber as Scott Hoying, people were just as willing to travel any distance to watch him stand on stage and sing. His concerts consistently sold out; his fandom was just a more tightly knit and less all-encompassing than Scott's. Needless to say, they were both at the very top of their game, picking up the reigns from the likes of Beyoncé, Ed Sheeran, and Justin Beiber.

Scott stared out the tinted windows of his private limousine, watching the streetlights slip by without really seeing them. His driver and close friend Avriel Kaplan glanced back at him through the rearview mirror.

"Scott?" The star hummed, not tearing his gaze away from the sunset. "What's up babe?"

"I don't know," Scott sighed. "I don't feel like it tonight." Avi turned down the music, slowing down just enough that the ice swished in Scott's glass.

"Then why go? Mitch won't miss you; you don't really know each other."

Scott bit his lip and fiddled with his cuff links. "You know why, Av."

And Avi did know why, even if he didn't agree with it. Scott was currently in the middle of recording his next album, and they'd both noticed that the hype was just not as it had been in the past. His record label was freaking out at him, trying to get him to finish up and release his single ASAP; it was all a bit more than a little concerning. No one made much off album sales anymore, so merchandise and concert tickets had to make do. Scott did not want for money, but Avi knew he could not afford to fall off the map yet.

And so, the party, or rather, the publicity stunt. It wasn't often that superstar Scott Hoying attended someone else's house parties. Usually, he was writing music, or otherwise engaged, or just couldn't be bothered. He loved the atmosphere and the booze and the dancing, of course, but he usually preferred to throw his own legendary parties. But, as Avi well knew, desperate times called for desperate measures: Scott had decided to put in an appearance at the next big event, knowing that that in itself would cause talk.