Jaded (Rock Star Trilogy) - By Mercy Amare
Monday, September 1
Los Angeles, California
If he weren't my dad, I would fire him.
“That's it,” I scream, putting my foot down. I am so irritated, I don't even care that I am acting like a spoiled three year old. “I'm taking a break!”
My manager, Mason Ryan, who also happens to be my dad, spews out his third non-fat latte of the morning all over the desk in front of him. “Stop being dramatic. You're Scarlett Ryan, the hottest thing on the music scene. If you take a break, when you come back, it will be too late. Your moment will have passed and you will be nothing.”
Maybe I don't care anymore. Maybe I don't want to come back, but I don't tell him this. I'm not ready to have that conversation with him. “I am 19 years old, and I still haven't graduated high school. I've been touring nonstop the past four years. I need a break.”
“Who cares about high school?” He half-screams at me, but quickly lowers his voice. “You have more money than you know what to do with. Another year or two won't hurt. And you're 19 years old. You don't need a break!”
I roll my eyes. He has absolutely no clue what I want, or need. I really don't care about the money. I care about the music. But Mason seems to have forgotten this. “This isn't up to you. It's up to me. And I am choosing to take a break so I can finish my senior year of high school. I need to reevaluate my life.”
“You can finish high school on the road. We'll hire you a tutor. And if you need to reevaluate your life, we'll get you a shrink, or a yoga instructor. You don't take a break during the height of your career! If you do, all that hard work will have been for nothing!”
He doesn't get it, though I didn't expect him to. He's 47, but acts like he's 20 most of the time. I swear, if he weren't my dad, I would have fired him a long time ago.
“I need a break.” I use my serious tone of voice with him. I know that he will ignore me, but I need him to know how serious I am. “It's not up for discussion. My mind is made up.”
With that, I walk out of his office slamming the door behind me, and book the first flight I can out of California.
Monday, September 7
Whatever you do, don't fall in love.
My alarm clock goes off at an ungodly hour. I start to hit snooze, but then I remember what today is, and sit up. Today is my first day of high school. Which is kind of ironic, considering I am 19 years old, but still, it doesn't make it any less exciting.
I shut off my alarm, get out of bed, and hop in the shower. After my shower, I blow dry my hair and straighten it.
My hair is long, like past my waist long. And it's a shocking platinum blonde. The weird part is that it grows out of my head like this. I have always wanted to dye it, any color besides blonde. I hate the color of my hair. But my record company won't hear of it. Apparently they want a rock star who looks like Malibu Barbie.
Not that I look like a Barbie. Trust me, I'm not that perfect. Don't I wish...
I'm thin. Almost too thin. I blame it on lack of time to eat. Everything about me is too small, except my man arms, so says Perez Hilton. But I like my arms. They're very muscular... Not like bodybuilder muscles... More like, I help my band carry heavy equipment kind of muscles. You see, just because I'm a rock star doesn't mean I'm too good to help. Besides, setting up the stage is fun. It helps keep me grounded.
I also have small boobs.
Well, they're not that small. I wear a B cup, which works for my small body. But apparently the Hollywood sharks don't think so. Gossip blogs tear me apart. They told me I need to get a boob job. No thanks. The day I read that, I cried for an hour straight. The next day my song, I Won't Change for You, hit number 1. Very fitting. I kind of like to think of it as my way of giving a middle finger to the Hollywood sharks.
I'm also very short. 5'1”. Which sucks sometimes, but most