Lost

Stardom Issues ☘

"We are visiting that charity you have under your sister's name." He sounded scared mentioning it to me.

I was not a tyrant man, just a little out of my mind.

The bottle in my hand shattered on the ground as I got back up, feeling the numbing pain in the back of my head due to all the drinking. I didn't even realize but my cheeks were soaked with tears.

"Fuck that charity!" I yelled but Ashton seems calm about it.

"Did you go bald because of me Ashton," I asked tapping his bald head with my fingers.

He smiled a little, "You can say that."

He was in his late thirties, with a wife and two kids. Why is he around me making his life hell? What makes him work under the Satan himself?

"I need a distraction though," I said with heavy breaths as it becomes harder for me to breathe.

"A one night stand is not a distraction Jeremy, go to sleep." He handed me aspirin and a glass of water.

"Oh, it is Ash, it definitely is," I said with a rueful smile.

But he was right, it was not. It was a pleasure, alright but not a distraction. He looked convinced at my words though, I was a prevaricator now.

He forcefully tucked me into bed and I gasped for breath. I am not accustomed to caring and whenever someone tried my sister haunted my head.

"Leave me alone." I snapped at him when I started seeing her instead of Ashton.

And giving me a light pat on my head he left me to sleep through another night of pain.

...

I think I over-stirred my coffee as I looked through the schedule for the day. The visit to that charity was the only thing that I wanted to do on my list of to-do things. Stretching my legs on the front table in living room, I flipped through the newspaper quickly in case I was in one of the scandal columns.

The sun was too bright, streaming in through the windows I left opened last night. I hated this weather, spring, not hot, not cold. But come to think of it, I hated every fucking weather. Because a season doesn't change our lives or situations.

Dead are still dead. 

My lawyer whoever he was did a splendid job on keeping me out of jail and still a loved star of the industry.

I took my time to take a shower, admiring or rather cursing my tattoos all over my arms, shoulders, at the back and one on my calf.

"Don't get tattoos, Remo, you can't donate blood." My sister, Charlotte used to say.

That was when she didn't know she will herself die of a shitty blood cancer. It has already been two years but it haunts me too much. And after she died, I got as many tattoos as possible just to inflict pain. There was one on my back that had a meaning while rest was just a side effect of my sister's death.

I have been severely reckless after that because I fucking hate my life. Everything, everyone around me was all show and glamor, everything was so fake that it made me feel nauseous at times like I am trapped in this forever.

Highway to hell ringtone snapped me back to my senses and I got dressed ignoring seven calls from Ashton and my driver.

I have died and gone to hell, stop calling assholes.

As soon as I opened the door, Ashton was waiting for me with a disapproving expression.

"I am always late Ash, get used to it." It has been four years already and the guy still hopes I would make on time.

The drive to the charity house was filled with silence and I felt uneasy about this. I already know that paparazzi were following me and they would cover the good deeds of star Jeremiah. I already know the amount I donate is not being spent in the right way. I know a lot of things but rectified nothing because why should I? I am not a good person, I should not pretend otherwise.

They never let me even check or take rounds for the benefits of photographs. I was ushered into a large white room reeking of medicines and chemicals. Feel suffice to think I hated this smell. I sat down lazily on the nearest chair stretching my legs and looked around the degrees of the doctor I was going to meet.

The amount of charity work this guy has done and the smiling pictures around the too clean room made me gag and Ashton gave me a deadpanned look. That guy had no humor in him. But then I guess working with me might have killed his funny bone.

After a while of the wait, Mr. Shawn Hobart greeted us in his cabin with a lot of patient files. He was maybe a few years older than me and his smiling calm face annoyed the shit out of me.

"It is good to finally meet you in person, Mr. Westall."

"Please, Jeremy. Mr. Westall sounds dramatic." I said offhandedly.

His smile didn't falter at my cold tone.

"We are grateful for your donations to this charity and cause. And it helps a lot of people who can't afford their treatments." He said.

"It does?" I intentionally put the tone of surprise in my words.

Don't give me shit what this place does, nothing in this world is free.

His smile widened and he nodded, "Yes, it does. You are really noble."

Had it not been for the media outside I would have punched his nose but I just gave him that threatening smile of mine and this time his smile faltered. 

Now you see, I am anything but noble.

He got my message and forwarded me the paper to sign and Ashton pulled out a check for me to give. The monotonous task was a torture and I wanted to get over with it and smile brilliantly in front of media outside.

But the sudden booming of laughter outside stopped me in whatever I was thinking or doing.

The laughter was so real, so refreshing and pleasant to my ears. It has been a long time since I heard someone laugh for real, not a small laugh or hysteric laugh, a full blown throw your head back, stomach aching laugh.

I walked out of the clinic even though Ashton gave me a pointed look. As I opened the door, I saw a girl, a few years younger than me laughing as two younger kids ran after her. The staff looked helpless on her antics but she was laughing like there was no tomorrow.

There was something mesmerizing about the whole scenario plucked right out from an angel's dream. It was unrealistic yet calming to watch. But that was until she ran away from the kids shrieking in fear of getting color on herself, in my direction.

I knew it even before it happened as habitually in defense the girl shot the spray paint and my face and clothes everything splattered with an annoying shade of magenta. Some curse word was forming on my lips and then she looked at me with no ounce of remorse on her face, she started laughing harder.

☘ ☘ ☘

Jeremiah a.k.a Jeremy for you guys. Hope you get in touch with his character.

It is not all gloomy and doomy xD since now these two met :P

But this is going to be on a more realistic side, tighten your seat belts for this one.

And don't forget to vote.