Luke's manager was pissed, despite his calm exterior.
And with reason. Luke had broken a million management rules: left the party without permission, angered about five-fourths of his personal fandom by being seen with a female, slept with a girl he just met, and hadn't been thinking about the consequences of doing so.
Luke was simply acting on impulse. In the moment, one night with Anna Rihvalsky (the girl he'd loved/lusted after for years) seemed certain to bring him some sort of closure. One night with her and he was sure that the heavens would open up, scream down to him, "You made it!" and that his life would forever be altered.
After one night with Anna, he was certain that he'd have newfound faith and confidence, although never forgetting his humble beginnings. He'd be good friends with Anna and maybe even more than friends. His entire life path would be clear. He'd continue with his life as anyone does: clear-headed and with new inspiration.
In his mind, he was given a golden opportunity. He was simply at the right place at the right time, and no manager could condemn him for that--it was just luck.
Boy, was he wrong. On all accounts.
Because Luke hadn't found closure. Quite ironically, it seemed that he had found the exact opposite: the deep, heartfelt desire for more.
Luke wanted to take Anna's hand in his and never let go. He wanted to spend the rest of his days with her, telling her how much he loved and admired her. And in the nights, he would show her just how much he loved her. He wanted to hold her close, kiss her neck, pleasure her beyond belief. He wanted to grow old with her, watching the sun rise and set each day until their hearts could beat no more.
Luke knew he shouldn't want more than what he got. But he couldn't help it; she was just too damn addicting. That last kiss left him wanting more--so much more.
He didn't care that this addiction came with strings attached. He didn't care that she came with strings attached.
He just wanted her.
Heart aching, Luke reluctantly walked back to his hungover bandmates and beaming manager.
That's right--beaming. His manager, Adam Li, had a way of luring the boys into a false sense of security, then pouncing on them when they were least expecting it.
That inspired the nickname 'Mr. Liar', an extension of the manager's actual surname, Li, that seemed to suit his personality better.
The moment Luke rejoined the group, Mr. Liar clapped his hands together to begin the meeting. "So, last night went... Well?"
Of course, this meant that last night went directly the opposite of what Mr. Liar wanted. (But Luke was the only one who picked up on this; the rest either weren't paying attention or just didn't care.)
"'Went well' is an understatement." Calum scoffed bitterly in response, then turned his body to Luke. "Hey, Lucas. How is it that you always get what you want?"
"Um... I don't know, honestly." Luke simply shrugged. He wasn't going to deny Calum's statement; it was kind of true. Good things just seemed to happen to people like Luke Hemmings, and he loved it.
But sadly, it still wasn't enough for him.
He wanted more. He was the biggest idealist there ever was, and that applied to everything in his life. He wanted more than the ordinary everything--personal belongings, family, friends, job, status, responsibilities.
Which, in a way, was exactly what he was about to get.
Mr. Liar grinned, a sinister one. "See, boys, I called this emergency meeting to talk about--"
"Luke." Ashton, Michael, and Calum coughed simultaneously, rolling their eyes.
They were already 18388583% done with the conversation. They, of course, were the biggest members of Luke Hemmings's support club, but they still were hungover from the night before and had no incentive to listen to their manager tear Luke to pieces.
Mr. Liar clapped again, an ineffective attempt to bring energy to the sleepy boys. "Actually, no. It's about all of you."
They all exchanged glances, now paying attention. That didn't sound good.
"Boys, you're at the peak of your careers right now. Everyone's talking about 5 Seconds of Summer. Everyone wants you. You've got a solid second album and your ratings are through the roof. You've got a solid reputation, which isn't easy at your age, and, on behalf of everyone at Modest!, we congratulate you for this achievement."
This spiel just added to the confusion. The four boys scratched their heads, unsure of what to make of this.
Modest! never gave out high praise--unless they wanted something.
Mr. Liar continued, "And now that you've done all this hard work, it's time to have some regulated time off."
"Regulated time off?" Michael repeated, his eyes glassy. His idea of a decent vacation was playing X Box in his parents' basement back in Australia with unlimited beer, but that probably was not what Mr. Liar was talking about.
"Yes, Michael! Regulated time off. Put down the bass guitar for awhile!" Mr. Liar's eyes continued to flicker mischievously. "Or, whatever it is that you play. Vocals? Drums? Piano? Anyways--"
Calum interjected, "Actually, I'm the one who plays bass, but--"
Mr. Liar ignored him again and continued on. "You know, I always thought you boys were different. You were motivated. You were inspired. You had this dream of exceeding everyone's expectations. You wanted to achieve something great by sticking to your morals. What happened to those chaste, Christian boys you once were?"
"We grew up," Ashton mumbled feebly. "It's healthy."
Mr. Liar didn't respond. Instead, he cleared his throat, reaching into his coat pocket for four small slips of paper. "Boys, you can't keep disobeying orders. The media actually notices what you do now. You can't keep performing drunken stunts and expect them not to notice! And, to be completely honest... You all are showing symptoms of the early stages of methomania."
"Wait. What the hell is methomania?" Michael raised his eyebrows. "Does that have to do with meth? Because, I swear, I haven't--"
Before Mr. Liar could respond, Calum interjected, "Not meth, idiot. It means alcoholism."
Alcoholism? Mr. Liar thought they were alcoholics?
"We're not alcoholics, Mr. Lia--Li." Luke corrected quickly, like the 'chaste, Christian boy' he should be. Plus, it was true--he was almost positive none of them were alcoholics.
Almost.
Mr. Liar again chose to ignore the young band members and continued, "Boys, Modest! has thought long and hard about this, and we've found a solution to your problem."
The boys exchanged side glances. This was it: the turning point in which Mr. Liar finally delivered the punch line to a long, drawn-out joke.
Or in their case, punishment.
"You see, alcohol influences you to do bad, reckless things. Alcoholics have horrible reputations, horrible relationships, horrible lives. And if we can stop it early, we can stop it for good. We need you boys to be in control of your own minds, actions, and impulses. So, to control the future of this band, all of you must attend alcohol counseling sessions every day for the next ten weeks."
Alcohol counseling?
Ashton squinted, not understanding. "Wait, so you're sending us to alcohol counseling? I... I swear I'm not an alcoholic, but... Alcohol is the only thing I look forward to! I... I can't do this."
Ashton wasn't helping; he was only making Mr. Liar's case stronger. This statement confirmed one of the early stages of alcoholism--dependence.
Luke could see Mr. Liar's point more clearer now, even though he really didn't want to.
But that didn't mean they were alcoholics--at least, they thought they weren't.
Mr. Liar smiled tentatively. "Look, boys, it's not hard. Plenty of rockstars have gone to alcohol counseling, and are better because of it. You'll learn how to manage your lives better, be in control of your own lives again."
Somehow, the statement of 'being in control of his own life' scared Luke. He didn't know why, though--he'd always lusted for control, freedom. But maybe Mr. Liar's idea of controlled freedom scared him; he really didn't know.
"All you have to do is stay in LA for your counseling sessions, attend press interviews sober, and smile big for the band photoshoots. That's all you need to do."
The theatre went silent as the boys processed what Mr. Liar was saying.
Stay in Los Angeles. Attend alcohol counseling sessions three times a week, for ten weeks. Promote their album. Do interviews. Attend photoshoots. Stay sober, twenty-four seven.
It didn't seem difficult, but to these four boys it sounded like hell.
"What about our music?" Luke finally asked.
Music was the most important thing in their lives--did Modest! forget? Were they just expected to put their music aside for the time being?
Mr. Liar, caught off-guard, gave the blonde a hasty glance. "Ah, well, of course you'll have free time to write and record. But--"
Calum crossed his arms, a look of angst in his brown eyes. "Look, Mr. Li, it sounds like you're trying to help us--and maybe you are, I don't know. But I also know that you're more focused on building our reputation than building 'healthy, Christian lifestyles.' So, what's the catch?"
"The catch?" Mr. Liar played dumb, or at least, was truly dumbstruck. None of them had ever struck back at Management before--not until now.
"Yes, the catch." Calum nodded quickly, narrowing his almond-shaped eyes. "And I'm guessing you're more interested in turning us into role-models and socialites rather than musicians."
Ah. The catch.
"Well..." Mr. Liar stalled, hesitating.
Luke wondered how he was going to talk his way out of this one. Calum could be very confrontational and stubborn when he wanted to be.
"When you put it like that, it sounds like a bad thing. But, you see, it is necessary! Your fans already see you as inspirations, and soon the world will, too. As long as you keep making headlines. Good, wholesome ones, that is."
Michael snorted, somehow finding humor in the whole ordeal. "Ha. I'm guessing Luke's little stunt last night didn't help."
Mr. Liar gave them all the fakest smile and said, "Let's put it this way. Good, sober boys make good headlines. So, be good. Be the nice Christian boys you were raised to be. No drugs, no alcohol, no smoking. Nothing."
"'He's a good boy, he's daddy's favorite.'" Ashton began to sang out of habit. None of the boys tried to stop him; they were too distracted.
"You realize that we're not good boys, right?" Calum cocked an eyebrow, and the three other boys groaned. Given the circumstances, they knew that Calum was going to make their situation worse. "I mean, we party hard. All of us got piss drunk last night, besides Luke. Well, maybe he did, I don't know. Anyways, three out of the four of us got laid, and--"
"We know." Mr. Liar cut him off, seemingly unfazed. "And that's why this is so important. You can't keep doing stunts like these, or else the media will exploit you."
Yeah, right. Like they haven't already.
"Yeah, but you probably don't know that Michael found some weed stashed in the fireplace." Calum finished proudly. "And him and I smoked it together, in front of everyone."
"Dude." Michael grunted, squinting at him angrily. "I thought you weren't going to tell anyone about that."
"Oh, I didn't really need to. It's all over the internet." Calum smirked, satisfied with himself. "But it's okay, Mr. Li--maybe people wouldn't recognize us!"
He was being sarcastic, of course. 5 Seconds of Summer were famous; everyone knew who they were. Luke realized at this moment that perhaps--just perhaps--Mr. Liar was right; they couldn't slip under the radar anymore.
"How could they not? I have highlighter red hair!" Michael argued back, missing the sarcasm entirely.
"Highlighter red isn't a color." Ashton spoke up, though again mumbling tiredly. (And also missing the point entirely.)
Ashton was correct, but somehow 'highlighter red' perfectly described the color of Mr. Liar's face that very moment.
Luke decided this was the perfect time to clock out, letting his gaze wander from beyond Mr. Liar's bald head to the black iPhone in his palm.
He was a bit hopeful, but he had no idea why. He'd forgotten to give Anna his phone number, so it's not like she could contact him.
This sucked for two reasons: a) he couldn't contact her, and b) because she was the only person he wanted to hear from right now.
She was the only one who could understand what Luke was going through. She was the only one who he would be willing to spend his sober hours with. She was the only one who could bang some common sense into him, for better or for worse.
~
That is, if she had any common sense left herself.
If only he knew that at this very moment, Anna Rihvalsky's green eyes skimmed over her father's slate-gray iPhone, petrified by what she saw.
Thousands of pictures from the previous night were all over social media--Twitter, Instagram, Facebook, you name it. She had expected this, but the articles that accompanied them she hadn't expected.
Nathan Rihvalsky: Sick? (Sick in the head, that is. Literally.) Witness his full breakdown here. It's actually hilarious, especially the part where he calls his parents assholes. And the smashed chandelier? Worth $13 million. Are they going to take that out of his trust fund? That might not leave a dent, but the tumor sure will. How is he going to brainstorm ways to solve equations with an empty mind?
Christina & Ed Rihvalsky: Trouble in paradise? Christina wants divorce; Ed keeps putting off signing the papers. He's already divorced her in his own way, sleeping with teenage prostitutes in his own private mansion. We always knew he was shallow, but we never knew he was a pedophile, too!
Eva Rihvalsky: Did she sleep with Ashton Irwin and Harry Styles in the same night? Naughty! And we thought that the worst she could do was get wasted before the party even started and throwing up everywhere and everything in the meantime. On the upside, at least she's finally losing the weight!
Anna Rihvalsky: Insult to injury - she not only left the party early, but she ditched her ex to elope with Luke Hemmings. And we thought she was the sensible one. Word to the wise: waking up in Vegas never works out, especially when the guy happens to be an attention-seeking psychopath. Maybe before she married him, she should've figured out that he only wants her for the fame! Too bad that she's too naive to realize it.
Hands shaking, she finished reading the last sentence with a shudder. Her article was complete and utter bullshit, but the others weren't. They hit home--literally--and Anna would've burst out in tears had she been alone in her bedroom.
But she wasn't.
She was seated at a large table with five grown adults, not including herself, in one of the ginormous meeting rooms of the Rihvalsky Grande mansion. Two were her angry parents, two were members of her family's management team, and the last was her very hungover sister.
It was the typical Rihvalsky family business meeting crew, minus her little brother.
The child prodigy. The recently diagnosed cancer victim. The youngest Rihvalsky child.
He wasn't there.
Anna had no idea where he was, but she had a sick feeling that four-fifths of the others did.
"Satisfied?" Her father spoke, breaking the silence. Betrayal and anger were evident in his sharp green eyes, and they glared at Anna's harshly.
Anna turned away from his glare, tears welling up in her eyes, and shook her head.
"No, I'm not." She croaked, wiping the tears off from her cheeks. Words couldn't describe how she was feeling: angry? Humiliated? Sad? Regretful?
Her feelings were probably a mix of the four. She couldn't put words to anything anymore.
"What exactly, young lady, did you and Nathan set out to do last night?" Her mother interjected, raising a well-manicured-but-pissed eyebrow.
"Luke Hemmings, Mom. She did Luke Hemmings." Eva murmured unhelpfully, rubbing her eyes tiredly and fell back into a jumbled heap on the conference table.
Anna didn't respond to her mother's question, partly because she didn't know. Her emotions were going haywire, her brain was mush, and she had no logical explanation for what she did or why she did it.
She couldn't think straight enough to form a coherent defense for herself or Nathan, but she did have one question of her own.
"Where is my brother?" She whispered, her voice a low rasp.
"He's... Away." One of the family managers, referred to as Manager #1, said nonchalantly. "So, now that that's covered, let's talk business."
"Business?" Anna questioned, now cocking her own eyebrows. After all this emotional turmoil, all they want to talk about is business? "What sort of business?"
The other manager, referred to as Manager #2, began. "First of all, we don't approve of what you and your brother did last night. But, there was one very good thing that came out of it. Because of your rebellious actions, LifeTime Network has proposed a contract to this family. And, well... They agreed to produce a new reality TV show called Rihvalsky Riots, airing every Tuesday at 7 PM, starting in July!"
This took a minute for her to process. A reality show? A show exploiting all their family secrets, and then some? A show turning their family into a source of trashy entertainment?
That sounded like the worst thing that could ever happen to her family, especially given the circumstances.
So she said so.
"I won't do it." She announced sharply, without a trace of doubt. "This'll destroy our family even more than it is already."
Manager #1 gave a short laugh. "Anna, darling, if we knew you were this dramatic, we would've done this earlier. Fighting for your family--that's sweet, darling--but highly unbelievable. Your whole stunt last night--wasn't that about getting rid of your family's secrets? Don't you want this? Honestly, we thought you'd be happy."
Happy? Jesus, the world really is messed up, isn't it?
"Be happy?" Anna choked, near tears. "Because of this? Regardless of what the public thinks, I don't want to destroy my family! And even if I did, I certainly wouldn't want it to happen this way!"
"Then, what do you want?" Manager #1 asked smoothly, unfazed by her rant. He was always like this: unemotional, nonchalant, cold.
"I want to see my brother."
The room was silent, except for a slight chuckling from Manager #2. Why was he laughing at a time like this?
"Well, honey, in that case, I'll cut you a deal. Sign the contract and he's all yours." Manager #2 replied, more enthusiastic than #1.
It was tempting. But was it enough to sacrifice all of her, and her family's, dignity?
(Then again, there was no doubt that her family would destroy their own dignity anyways, but would come quicker with this new deal.)
She stayed silent, trying to contemplate the difficult situation, while Manager #2 continued to explain. "Anna. You have an easy role. Travel the country, promote companies, model, have fights with your parents and siblings, go on family vacations, film a couple days a week. Stuff like that. Just sign the paper, and you can spend as much time with your brother as you want."
And somehow by Manager #2 saying that, it made the whole thing seem that much simpler. (Except it definitely wasn't, but Anna had no idea what was right or wrong anymore.)
Anna sighed, finally making up her mind. Despite the warning bells going off in her head, she surrendered all her freedom in one simple sentence.
"Take me to him."
A/N: OKAY THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR STAYING WITH ME THIS FAR :D
I can guarantee you that the next update won't take as long as this one - I just had a bit of writer's block but now I'm back on track!! Thanks for being such amazing (& patient) readers :)))
if you haven't voted on the previous chapters please go back & vote!! it helps more than you think :)
VOTE/COMMENT/FAN PLEASE!
- A