Page 3 of Stuck Behind Her

“You do have a friend, Val.” He counterattacks my argument.

“Yeah, three hours away.”

“That still counts,” he insists, crossing his hands in front of him.

You formal asshole.

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Oh, and you mentioned dating someone once back in Portland.”

I lower my eyebrows.Stop. Please, stop.“Why are you like this? I’m trying to make a point.”

He stares into my eyes, squinting, and I frown in response.“Val, the point is the fans and media don’t understand. But the thing you’re forgetting is both the fans and the media are everything,” he reminds me.

“Yeah, I know. Live to the population’s expectations or you can’t expect them to help you with yours.” I mutter, crossing my hand on the table before dropping my head onto them.

“Great. We’re on the same page. Now, on to the second topic,” he announces. There’s another topic? Did he forget I’m tired.

“Oliver, can’t we do this another day?” I ask in a dying, slightly muffled voice. “I really don’t have the energy.”

“We have time right now, and time is a precious thing,” he quotes. I frown, raising my head and sitting up straight. “What’s wrong?” he asks.

“I wonder? Do you know? I’m honestly clueless. It’s not like I’ve been out of the house since the break of dawn and was caught by fans, or like I’m barely keeping my eyes open.” I cheer, sarcasm filling my voice as I dramatize my act. Obviously, the sarcasm doesn’t please Oliver, as he gives me yet another annoyed look, tilting his head slightly.

“Oliver, I am half conscious and half asleep. The coffee in front of me is a big indication. That means you have a quarter of my attention right now,” I explain to him, gesturing to the white mug with both my hands.

“I’m going to continue.” He ignores me, his chair screeching on the floor’s tiles. He gets out of his chair and walks to one of the shelves on his side to grab a file. He comes back with a lightpurple file, opening it and setting it on the desk before sitting down again.

“New Year is soon. We need an event,” he states. He has such bad timing. I cover my face with the palms of my hand, leaning closer to the table. I need sleep. “Come on, you always come to me with ideas. I know you can find one in that brain of yours.”

I take a deep breath, then take a sip of my coffee. “Okay, give me a second,” I tell him, waving my hands at the side of my head, trying to get something. After a while, one of my old ideas comes to mind. Thank God.

“Okay, we have a contest. Most likely an indirect one because those are fun. Like, no one will know how or where to participate. We find two winners, and they go with me to New York this year for my Holiday event. It’s expensive, but I think we can afford it.

“Anyway, all costs will be taken care of, as well as hotels and if we go out anywhere. They can bring a guest with them because every trip has that, from what I know. They can have backstage access to the concerts and be treated like VIPs. That way, I’m not a loner for the trip.” I end on another sarcastic note.

“For God’s sake, stop,” he whines, “It’ll be expensive, but I think we can work it out. As long as you’re willing to sacrifice for the cost. Now what kind of contest do you have in mind?” Oliver asks. He really doesn’t want to let me leave. I give him a hurt look, then go back to thinking. If I’m going to find winners, they can’t be too older than me because that doesn’t solve my problem.

“Okay, so we run the competitions in school. I can fake a passing grade for some classes, it’s easy. I enter as a junior, that way I find winners close to my age. I’ll choose them for their kindness, I don’t care if it’s cliché, I’m too tired to think. It’s whoever I make friends with,” I tell him.

“Junior?” he asks.

“I can fake passing classes, but it’s harder to hide the failed ones.” He raises both his brows. “Leave it!” I order, which he does. He lowers his head, shaking it, before returning to the initial topic.

“How are we going to take them alone if they’re under eighteen?” He questions. Oh yeah, I’m under eighteen. I mean, Mom’s signed me permission for all tours or traveling events, but I don’t think that would work with two others.

“I’ll try finding a senior, it’s not like they have to be the same grade. And I’m sure if the second winner gets a waiver signed, they’ll be fine. We have you, and all the security guards,” I point out. He nods his head, but not fully convinced.

“And the guests? What if they’re young?” I’m convinced he’s working against me right now.

I close my eyes for a second, regaining some energy. “Take your wife with you. You seem against the idea of having to deal with so many people alone, she’ll keep you company, and help us make sure there aren’t too many problems. Even though I’m sure we can deal with that ourselves.”

He hesitates for a second. “I’ll ask her. But there are still holes in the idea. What if you find more than two winners?”

“Oliver, let me find one winner first, then we’ll think about that.”

“Okay, I know you’re going to kill me if I don’t let you go, so let’s conclude everything,” he announces.

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