The Sidereus Prophecy Part 9 free porn video

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Part 9 *** Chapter 67 A week after my break up with Ethan, Lauren and the girls came into my dressing room. Lauren said excitedly, "Abby! You need to put your rider together! You hardly ever ask for anything." I shrugged my shoulders and blinked, "What is that?" Lauren replied, "It's like all this stuff you can ask for. It's fun. Like a must-have for all your performances. Everyone's got one. Places think it's weird that you just ask for the basics." I shrugged again, looking disinterested, "Why do I need that though? I have what I need." Lauren smiled knowingly, as did the girls around her, "Because you can! Here look at some of the stuff you can get!" She handed me her phone. It displayed a list of common and uncommon celebrity riders. I raised a brow, "Why would I need a person to get rid of my used gum? That's gross! And ridiculous!" I said, "The air purifier and the humidifiers are fine. But I guess. Hmm." I looked closely, "I mean- it's kind of crazy? But I wouldn't mind having my own private washroom. Like that no one can use." My fear of germs was still prevalent, and in fact, after staying in many different hotel rooms, it had seemingly worsened. At home, I could control the germs. I could control, to a certain degree, who sat on my toilet seats, but in hotels- hundreds, no thousands of people could have sat there, pressing their ass cheeks against the soft contours of the seat. Gross! Lauren shook her head, "No way, Abby! It makes sense to me. So like, you'd want a bathroom only you can use?" I nodded, "As long as you don't think it's too weird. Or if it's too much? I could see it being pretty inconvenient. Maybe pregnant women could still use it. If they really needed to." Lauren giggled, "You're so funny, Abby. Sure, we can put a thing in there saying preggies can use your washroom. But like how pregnant? 4 months, or like about to pop preggers?" I laughed, "Uh, let's say at least six months. Unless she's carrying twins!" The girls laughed, but I saw Lauren looking studious with a clipboard, although her professionalism was lessened by the hot pink nail polish she wore. She was writing down what I was saying, even though I was half-joking about wanting it. OK, I actually did want the private washroom. I hated public washrooms with a passion. Lauren said, "OK, so we'll make sure you get a private washroom. Oh, and every hotel room you go in will have a brand new seat. How does that sound, Abby?" I replied, "I-I'm still not convinced it's necessary." Lauren smiled and said, "Don't worry so much, Abby! Just relax. This is to help you so you can perform without worrying about the little stuff. Can you think of anything else? Like you seemed pretty grossed out last week when that security guard in Boston tried to shake your hand, and he was all sick and gross." I raised a brow, "What are you suggesting? That anyone who is sick has to stay away from me? Come on, Lauren- people will think I have a crazy germ phobia." Lauren said, "You're the star, Abigail. You can do what you want!" *** "I never did that! I never even had sex with him. That video is being taken completely out of context!" Sandra said, "I believe you, Abigail, but you have to understand that once you reach the upper echelons, the height of stardom- there will always be those that seek to topple you." I looked at the television with a frown. A female reporter standing outside an abortion clinic in L.A. stood grim faced and resolute. "Abeille, whose real name is Abigail Grenier, has skyrocketed to fame, shattering previous sales records by Britney Spears, and eclipsing even the Queen of Pop herself Madonna. At only sixteen years old, she is the youngest artist ever to win both a Grammy, and an American Music Award. Her album, Queen B, has already reached gold record status. But, the girl's meteoric rise to fame has not come without controversy. Abigail, near plus-size, shortly before her album debut, lost a significant amount of weight. Shocking stories of fainting spells and hospitalizations dogged the young star, but she denied the accusations that she took diet pills or that she followed a near starvation diet." I shouted at the television, "This is so trashy! None of this is true. It's this faux documentary bullshit. That's all it is. It's written that way to incense people. Just turn it off!" Sandra nodded, "I believe you, Abigail. But it's important still to watch this so we can enter immediate damage control." I sighed and plopped down on the couch. We were back in the mansion in the Hollywood Hills. I was on a three-day break from the tour. My 'rider' was still mostly incomplete, however; Lauren encouraged me to add to it on a daily basis. I was hoping to have a few days of rest, but with the brewing scandal, it was unlikely. The report continued, "Recent reports have linked Abigail with teen heart throb, Justin Bieber, but previous to that relationship, she dated her lead guitarist. A proclaimed virgin, Abigail encourages her young fans to abstain from sex, unless married or engaged. Most critics swallowed this without anything in the way of proof. That is until a tweet from Bieber, surfaced a few days ago. It read: "Sweet time tonite w/ Abby. tonite Girl's a Bieleber!" I despised how the entertainment media took relatively innocuous statements and actions and blew them up into Watergate having sex with Monica Lewinsky, smoking crack and invading Vietnam. Celebrity scandals were treated the same way that credible news casts would treat an earthquake that killed millions. In their world, it was the only news that mattered. While I had accepted life as a celebrity, even enjoying extended tweet sessions with Kim Kardashian, I had come to hate those who hounded me. I had more respect for Kim now, for all celebrities who had to deal with vultures feeding off their fame. I rolled my eyes as the camera focused on the abortion clinic. The reporter nattered on in an overly dramatic voice, "Combined with the seemingly harmless statement from Bieber and reports that she and her guitar player used to enjoy afternoon delights before performances has led to speculation that Abigail is lying about her virginity. Even more shocking and perhaps perfect evidence to Abigail's dishonesty is seen in the following video: Here, we see Abigail arguing with a protestor outside of the D'Angelo clinic on Hollywood Boulevard, a well-known abortion clinic. A clinic staff member recognizes the young star and brings her into the clinic. The girl returns two hours later as evidenced by the time stamp on the video, led away by her friend, Harmony Sweet." The female reporter smiled smugly and said, "Spokespersons for Abeille have not confirmed or denied the accusations that the young star had an abortion, but we here at Hollywood Gab would like to know a few things: was it Justin's or the now ex-boyfriend Ethan Rayner's baby? And what will Abigail's young fans think of their once chaste idol? Is this another good girl gone bad girl story? We'll let you know as soon as we know more. For now, Miss Grenier has a lot of explaining to do." The reporter interviewed a mother and her eleven year old daughter. The mother said, "I'm not going to allow my daughter to listen to Abeille's music any more. She's a terrible role model. She lied about being a virgin, getting all this business- if you know what I mean. If she were a politician, I could forgive it- you know it's expected. But millions of little girls out there love her. And she's let them down." The girl whined in the background, but the mother, told her that it was for her own good. I angrily shut off the television. I shouted, "None of this is true! I mean yes, I was outside debating with the protestor. I was just interested in what she was saying. I've always been like that. And I guess the staff member heard us arguing, and she thought I was there for- well an abortion. Well I only stayed in there about ten minutes. Some of the girls in there recognized me, and I signed a bunch of autographs. That's it. Ask them! I wasn't in there two hours. That video is doctored." Sandra said, "Then that's what we'll tell them." I blinked, surprised that Sandra would believe me so easily, and accept that no further spin doctoring would be required. I asked, "Really, you'll let me handle this one myself? Why? You've controlled every word that comes out of my mouth pretty much to this point." Sandra replied, "Coming from you, it will sound earnest. And that's the truth, right, Abigail?" I nodded repeatedly, "Yes! I'm telling you the truth. I was waiting for Harmony. She was in some shoe store across the street. And here's the other thing, this was like only a week after my album came out. I can't believe that people are buying this. The footage has been doctored." Sandra said sagely, "With celebrity scandals, people will often believe what they are fed. As much as they love you and want you to succeed, Abigail, they also want you to fail. Do you know why?" I shrugged. Sandra smiled, "They want what you have. So seeing you have these scandals, it makes them think, oh- I don't really want that. They feel better about their pointless existence, but they are still thinking- I want that. They are jealous." I sighed, "I never thought I'd say it, but I miss touring. I miss the crowds. They are amazing. I-I feel incredible when I'm out there. And when I'm dancing and singing, I'm not thinking about this other stuff. You know, the diet pills, the starvation diet, how many people hate me- and now this. Can we go back early?" The smile never left Sandra's face, "I think that can be arranged, Abigail." That night, Mr. Atwater knocked on my door. With his position usurped and his raison d'?tre removed, the man had little purpose, other than to wait patiently for the fulfilment of Sidereus Prophecy, and his eventual end. He was dishevelled, his three-piece suit swapped for a pair of grimy jeans and a t-shirt that hugged a definite pot belly. He had remained in the mansion during the tour, likely at Sandra's behest. He asked, "How are you doing, Abigail?" The humanity in his voice that had once been shocking to hear was common now. His tone spoke of a man who genuinely wanted to know how I was doing. I replied, "I'm OK. Just this abortion thing. It's- ludicrous. It's just a smear job." Mr. Atwater asked, "Since when have you actually cared about your pop career? Wouldn't a scandal like this be exactly what you want? And what is going on with you? You fought me every inch. What's changed? What makes Sandra so different?" There was a hint of jealousy in his words. I shrugged my shoulders, "What do you care? You are getting your way. The Prophecy will be fulfilled, and you can have your rest finally. You had your chance to help me. To break the cycle. And you know what kind of thing Sandra is. So you answered your own question." Mr. Atwater sighed gently, "I suppose I did. I-I think that the Prophecy can be fulfilled without you losing your entire self. I know this may seem silly, but I miss the Abigail that fought a war of attrition with me. The one with the fiery spirit. Since you've come home, I've seen nothing of that in you. She's broken you. You are just a puppet on a string. You will lose yourself entirely if you don't fight a little." I sneered, "No! No, she hasn't! I just- it's easier this way. No one gets hurt. I mean Britney- she could have been killed. She could still die. The poor woman is still in the hospital. You know a machine breathes for her? The accident punctured her lungs. You might think I've given up- but I've done what I had to do. What I should have done all along." I frowned, "You were right from the beginning, there's no beating the Prophecy. I just need to fulfil it and move on with my life." Mr. Atwater shook his head, "I have accepted that as well. There's nothing either of us can do. But you can do one thing, cut that bubble- headed hydra from your side. Those girls will make you one of them. Your friends and family won't- they won't recognize you when they are done." I shouted, "No! They are my friends. They helped me so much when Ethan broke up with me. I wouldn't have been able to get through this time without them. They are my girls." I heard the clacking of heels on hard wood floor. Mr. Atwater said simply, "What are their names?" The sound of the heels grew closer. It was clear that my girls were approaching. I thought about it for a moment. I knew Lauren, and the Latino one, I thought her name was Tiana, or was it Tina? There were two other blondes, a red head and an African-American girl. Their names escaped me. Mr. Atwater said, "I can't tell you what they are. But, just know this, the more powerful they become, the more lost you become." Lauren threw open the door, and eight sets of eyes threw nasty looks toward Mr. Atwater. He paled and immediately left the room. Lauren said, "Grody! What did that old guy want? He's just nasty." One of the girls said with a giggle, "He looks like a hobo!" Another said, "Did you see what he was wearing? Shop at Wal-Mart much? Save money, look like a hobo!" I knew that the actual slogan was: Save Money- Live Better. I replied, "Uh, he was just- we were just talking." One of the girls said, "He was totally checking you out, Abby. He's like some nasty pedo-bear or something. Why's he staying here? Shouldn't he be like asking for change?" The girls giggled in unison. It was a musical horror show that actually caused me to consider whether Mr. Atwater was telling the truth. Lauren said, "Abby, we are going out dancing. We want you to come." I shrugged, "I-I don't really feel like going. You can go though, I'm tired. This stupid scandal has got me all stressed. And I'm not even old enough." The girls moved gracefully toward me, sitting down on my bed. One of them began rubbing my shoulders, while another started going through my closet. Lauren said with a smile, "Stop worrying, Abby. You love to dance, right? You miss it don't you? And like the crowds too?" I blinked, "Uh- yeah, I do. How do you know that though? I never told you." Lauren smiled, "Yeah! Of course you did. You tell us everything! You said how much you missed your fans, and dancing and singing. And especially how much everyone looks at you. You remember that, right?" I thought about it, and it did sound like something I had said. "I guess. I mean- OK, yeah I said it." Lauren said, "If you come out, I bet all the guys will be checking you out. Especially if you wear this." One of the other girls held up a shimmery metallic-looking pink dress with a cute white bow at the back. I didn't remember actually buying the dress, but I loved the look. It took very little in the way of encouragement from the girls to have me put it on, except for a simple, "Try it on!" Once it was on, and I had slipped into a matching pair of heels, I realized I looked amazing. The part of me that desperately wanted attention was already grinding at the exclusive club with some hot guy. Maybe I'd even twerk! I had to admit the part of me that wanted to turn in early had downed a few cappuccinos and was now wide awake. We took the usual limo to the club, an exclusive celebrity hot-spot called the Palamino. I was disappointed when I didn't see Tony. The driver already had the partition closed. I hadn't seen Tony since he drove me to the airport immediately before the album media circus began. Lauren and the girls were right, I was the absolute centre of attention the entire night, and I loved it! I danced with numerous guys, many of them in their early twenties. The girls even let me have alcohol! They were the best! I had a martini, which tasted awful, but it made me feel really good. None of the waiters asked for I.D. either, and they even brought my second martini right to my table The highlight of the night involved a semi- dance off between Lauren and I, where I managed to completely school her. OK, the actual highlight was when I made out with this super cute guy. I didn't actually get his name. I think it might have been Patrick. No one said anything about my supposed abortion either! I stumbled into the limo, giddy and giggly, alongside my girls who were in a similar state. I wasn't hammered, but I was feeling really good. A massive smile appeared on my face as I saw who the driver was. I shrieked, "TONY! Yay, it's Tony!" I lowered the partition and jumped into the front seat. In a terrible Italian accent, I said, "Hey, To-ny! Wassa matta you?" I put my arms around him and hugged him tightly. The middle-aged man, with a teenage daughter of his own, frowned. At a red light, he turned back and regarded Lauren angrily, "Did you give her booze? You know she's underage right." One of the girls said, "Calm down Hitler, stop being such a fashionista! This is a free country. Abby can do what she wants. Right, girls?" They nodded their heads in unison. Tony didn't move the car forward. I obnoxiously poked him in the arm saying, "It's green, green, green, green- GREEN!" I shouted in his ear, but he didn't budge the car. He said, "If you want to sit in the front, buckle up, Abby." Tony then turned his attention to Lauren, "I'm sure her parents would be interested in knowing their sixteen year old daughter has been drinking. And I doubt Miss Walker would want you girls taking her out like this and keeping her out late at night." Lauren scoffed and flipped her hair, "Whatever grandpa. You're just the driver, you don't get a say in any of this. Abby's old enough to make her own choices." I nodded my head in agreement, but Tony wasn't convinced. Tony said, "No, but I'm a concerned parent, and I care for Abigail. I don't like what you girls are doing here. She's just a kid. I-I'm going to have a talk with Miss Walker about this." The red head rolled her eyes, "Just drive monkey!" Cars were passing us, honking angrily as they did. I bounced in the front seat and said, "I have to pee! Like really bad!" Tony said, "OK, OK, we'll go. There's a gas station on the corner here." He pulled away from the light. My eyes widened in horror, "Are you serious? To-ny, we don't roll that way anymore. I only use private washrooms now. Ones only I use. You know, less of a chance of getting sick! Right?" Tony raised a brow, "And how are you gonna use a private washroom away from home?" He cleared his throat, "Abigail, can I drop your "friends" off somewhere, so we can have a chat?" He looked at me firmly. I stuck my tongue out, "You aren't my Dad. Or Mr. Atwater or Miss Walker. I don't have to listen to you." Lauren nodded in agreement, "Yeah! You're just the hired help. And we are staying with Abby in the mansion. So you can drop us off there." Lauren crossed her legs, and the other girls followed suit. Then they crossed their arms underneath their modest chests. Tony's eyes widened, "What the-...goddamn Stepford Wives?" He stared intensely at the girls. He was honked at again for idling at a green light, and quickly pulled away, jumping onto the expressway at top speed. I crawled into the back, feeling increased pressure to relieve my bladder. I said, "Faster! I'm gonna pee my pants!" Tony shouted, "I'm-I'm already going twenty over! There's too much traffic! Honestly, Abby, did you really have to make such a big deal about going in a public washroom? Just hover like my wife does! Or lay toilet paper over the seat. Suck it up, princess!" Lauren shouted, "How dare you talk to her like that! Just drive the car and shut your mouth, and if she pees in your car, well I guess you clean it up, right monkey?" I heard Tony swear under his breath, and I felt the car speed up noticeably. I started to do the pee dance, but in the confines of the back seat of the limo, it mostly consisted of me closing my eyes and shifting back and forth a lot. One of the blondes said, "Nasty! He's checking you out in the rear view mirror, Abby! What a gross pig!" Tony shouted from the front, "I'm just checking to see if she's OK! It seems like she's had a lot of alcohol. She's not herself." Lauren said, "Eyes front, monkey." Eventually, Tony pulled into the long drive way of the mansion. I sprinted out of the car without saying goodbye, and I spent the better of the night in the bathroom. My girls were fully supportive, holding my hair (when it was time), gently dabbing my forehead with a cool sponge, and soothing my pain. I was not a pretty puker. I screamed, held the edge of the toilet, and kicked the door. It used the wake up Am?lie, who would run into the bathroom, usually just in time to see me puking my guts out. Through it all, my girls were amazing. They didn't even flinch as I threw up the boiled chicken I had for lunch- in small bite-sized chunks. Lauren offered me some room-temperature spring water, apparently it is was imported from Chile. She said, "Your driver has a lot of nerve. The girls and I agree with you though, you should definitely have some kind of rules for the people driving you around." I breathed heavily, feeling flush- the red head gently applied the moist sponge to my head, while one of the blondes rubbed my shoulders. "I-I don't remember saying that." Lauren said, "Sure you did, Abby! You said it right after you finished peeing. You said it was so gross how that driver was leering at you." I frowned, "Tony is a decent guy though. He was probably worried about me." Lauren frowned too, "I-I didn't want to tell you this, Abby, but after you ran out of the limo. That Tony guy, he said that he would refuse to drive you if we were in the car." I furrowed my brow and then leaned over to clutch my stomach. One of the girls, gently pulled my hair into a ponytail and held it in preparation for what was to come. Weakened as I was by my self- inflicted sickness, Lauren's words started to make sense. I knew that Tony was upset with my girls for feeding me alcohol, and for my behaviour, but it was clear I needed to have a talk with him. Thankfully, my nausea passed, and I was able to sleep, but it still left me exhausted the next day. Sandra scolded me, but she said I could sleep on the plane. We were leaving for the airport to restart the tour, and mercifully, I didn't have a performance until tomorrow night. I hadn't had alcohol in months, and my body's tolerance was terrible on the best of days. Still, I loved dancing! I understood now why girls went to clubs. It was so men could stare at them. I felt incredible after all the hot guys in the club ogled me all night long. I was glad though that they couldn't see the aftermath in the washroom. I still had a bad taste in my mouth over what had happened with Tony. Was it true that he had told my girls they couldn't ride with me? I needed to have a serious talk with him. Just after noon, I slipped into the limo, surprised not to see any of my girls. This caused me to scrunch my nose and pull my lip into a slight sneer. I barked, "Did you tell my girls they weren't allowed to ride with me?" Tony turned back and regarded me severely, "OK, Abigail- it's time we had a serious talk." He put the car in park. I said expectantly, "Did you tell my friends they couldn't ride with me? Where are they, Tony?" Tony said, "Bing, bing, bing- level 2." I glared at him, "Answer me! Now!" I crossed my arms underneath my chest and moved my heeled foot up and down impatiently. Tony replied, "Level 3." I shrieked, "Answer me now, or- you- you're fired!" Tony said, "BING, BING, BING- Level 4." I nearly spat as I yelled, "What the hell is your problem?" Tony replied, "You said when I first started driving you around that you wanted me to call you on any, and I quote "bullshit diva" behaviour. Well Abby, you are channelling Cher, Streisand and Celine Dion- Lopez, all in one whiny, spoiled breath. What's happened to you, Abby? You're like one of...them." I said, "Nothing happened to me, OK? And I don't appreciate you talking to me like that. Don't you work for me?" Tony cleared his throat, "Technically, I work for Sid Burton- he's the owner of the company I drive for. Now, let's get back the problem here, namely those girls." I shouted, "I knew you hated them! I knew you told them they couldn't come in the limo anymore! What gives you the right?" Tony calmly said, "I didn't say anything like that. I'm telling you the truth, Abby. Look I've seen what happens with these entourage types. They aren't there for you, Abby- they are there for themselves. They are feeding off your fame." I said, "They are the closest thing I have to friends now! They are the only ones I can trust." Tony replied, "Because they tell you what you want to hear. I've seen it all, Abby. Surround yourself with empty people, and you become empty. It's real simple. It's starting to happen to you, and you don't even see it. Well I'm not going to let you turn out like the others. You're different. Please, Abby, come on you can trust me." I narrowed my eyes, "Like when you held me down at the hospital so the doctors could poke me with a needle! Yeah, I can trust you. Sure." Tony said, "I didn't do that. You were almost completely out of it. Harmony called for the doctor, and I just made sure you didn't fall out of bed." I shook my head, "No, I remember you holding me down. I was fighting against you." Tony said, "I was trying to keep you in bed. The orderlies came, and I let go of you. They held you while the doctor gave you the needle." I said, "I don't believe you. I think you are just like all the other ones. You want a piece of me. I could see you looking at me in the mirror last night." Tony was exasperated, he fumbled with his words, "I-I don't know- where to even...you are my daughter's age. I want to help you, Abigail- help you understand that this road you are going down, it's not right, and those so-called friends of yours. They are pushing you down that road- and they've got you on a leash. Believe me, I've seen it before." I said, "You don't know me or my friends! Just- just drive!" Ten minutes into the drive, I caught Tony looking at me in the rear view mirror. I shouted, "Sick! You pervert! Stop staring at my chest!" I hit the button to close the partition, and I didn't lower it again for the rest of the ride. I didn't say goodbye as I exited the limo. After boarding my private plane, I texted Sandra: Me: i dont want tony driving me again hes a gross pervert fire him do whateva i dont care Me: in my rider i want this no driver is allowed to look backseat thru rear view mirror A week later, after a driver asked me about my supposed abortion and tried to get into a debate about it, I added the following stipulation to my rider, which was now a full page in length: -Driver will not start a conversation with Abigail -Driver will not speak to Abigail's friends -Partition will stay closed at all times -If driver needs to speak to Abigail, he/she will use the intercom system (required) Then, when a driver rudely left me waiting for ten minutes, I added this: -Driver will tell Abigail how long he/she plans to leave for, will arrange suitable replacement if Abigail left waiting longer than ten minutes And finally, after a driver had the nerve to ask for an autograph when I was already late for dinner (I was starved!), I added this: -UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES WILL DRIVER ASK FOR AUTOGRAPHS *** I was facing a legion of press. Cameras flashed constantly, and expectant journalists from around the world sat in a three-hundred seat theatre waiting to ask their questions. It was my first solo press conference. Sandra had removed my training wheels, and before I was stared down by rabid journalists, I was grateful for the opportunity to tell my story. It would not be filtered through my public relations department. I would not be reading off a script, and the questions, unlike those in the music and entertainment interviews, would not be given beforehand. I was a tightrope walker without a net. "Did you have an abortion?" I replied, "Absolutely not. You know it's really none of your business, but I'm still a virgin." Another reporter asked, "Why were you seen going in the abortion clinic then?" I replied calmly, "Because, like I said in my statement. The staff member thought I was there for an abortion and that the protestor was bothering me. The woman- she and I were having an informed debate. I was just curious about her views. I wanted to know why she was against it." The reporter asked a follow-up question, "Are you pro-life or pro- choice?" Again, I answered calmly, "Pro-choice." A young woman looked at me incredulously, "Abigail, you have a reputation for having some of the most ignorant, and, frankly, stupid sounding tweets in the industry. The reporter cleared her throat and read, "What's with this middle east thing? They can never get along! Whateva! Watching season three of keeping up with kardashians kim's my girl!" The woman shook her head, "Hurricanes suck and all but powers out can't charge my phone, harmony text me." This after a hurricane struck Florida, injuring a number of people and causing millions of dollars in damage. The reporter said, "Are you telling us that you were having an informed debate about abortion? For two hours?" I glared at the woman. I couldn't exactly tell her that I was simply a pawn in a sadistic plot to control the hearts of minds of the world. My Twitter feed was actually the work of a team of writers, trying their best to make me sound like an entitled princess who cares only about her own world. Yes, there were obligatory shout outs to fans, but my tweets had become legendary for their ignorance and outright stupidity. I said, "Yes. I'm smarter than I look." Laughter filled the room, but it is was derisive. Another reporter asked, "So you just happened to "debate" the issue with a protestor, and then you went inside and did what for two hours? You say you visited with fans. It's awfully convenient that you just happened to be inside during the usual recovery period for a standard abortion, Miss Grenier." I clenched my teeth. I hated everyone in the room. They were all below me, just parasites. "I did not have an abortion. Do you want me to get up in stirrups in front of all these cameras so I can prove it to you? Will that make you happy? That is my statement. I've told you the truth. No more questions." Very few of them bought my story, and over the next few weeks, the story absolutely blew up. I appeared on morning talk shows, late night television- and while some seemed to believe me, either way- I was a constant point of conversation. The water cooler effect was significant. I trended on social media and entertainment sites, the National Enquirer ran a story accusing me of promulgating a lie, and they apparently had proof in the form of doctor's records, but they sensationalized the whole thing saying I slept with the doctor to avoid the story being leaked. The thirty-seven year old doctor. Yuck! The woman who I had initially debated with did not back up my story, but I continued to hammer away with the truth. The media were relentless and at times, I forgot portions of the story, or I told small lies because it was easier than to face their pursuit of the "truth". I was booked on television shows where I was butchered by parents groups and religious groups, pro-life and pro-choice groups. It felt like the world hated me, but with every probing question, I hated it back. Still, with as many people who hated me and carried signs to my concerts denouncing my actions and the supposed string of lies I told, there were many who staunchly defended me, and they numbered in the millions. As a collective voice, they were my "Bees". Lady Gaga had her "little monsters", Justin his "Beliebers", and I had my "Bees." When the world wasn't discussing my alleged sexual indiscretion, it was raving about my diva-like behaviour. To distract me from the near constant bad press, the sordid tales where I apparently had a threesome with members of TWO different boy bands, my girls filled my world with luxury. They encouraged me to finish my rider, and exhausted from performances at night and press conferences by day (always with the same questions asked!), I fell easily into the waiting embrace of entitled celebrity life. I quickly gained a reputation as a world-class diva. My rider grew from one solid page of mostly reasonable demands, to four, and then eight- and sixteen and finally thirty-two pages. I learned that being a bitch, being a demanding petulant spoiled brat got me exactly what I wanted. For instance, if I had a do-not disturb sign on my door, if I was bothered, I would fine the hotel ten thousand dollars. As my star grew, so did my entourage. The original group, my eight girls, who had quickly become my best and most trusted friends became ten, then twenty, and by the time my world tour stopped in Japan, I had an entourage of fifty people. None of them had jobs. They just hung around, the nameless empty beautiful people. But I loved them, they zealously defended me against verbal attacks sometimes even physically pushing journalists aside. As for my performances, they were controlled insanity. Concerts sold out instantly when extra shows were added. It was like Beatlemania. It was bedlam. Every night, I basked in the adoration of my fans, sometimes performing, two or even three encores. Amongst the sea of hate that was the press, and the lies they spewed about me, my fans were heaven sent. I loved them, and every second I was out there, I felt alive- electric. Between my diva-like behaviour, my passionate performances and my denials in the face of continued scandal, I was a polarizing tour de force to say the least. I was on the lips of nearly everyone, and I adored it. As I arrived in my hotel room in Japan, my phone buzzed, indicating a text message. And another. And another. I looked down at my phone with a glare. Am?lie: Abigail you need to stop the concerts stop your interviews everything the prophecy I think it's close it's winning Am?lie: you need to figure out a way to stop it now Am?lie: the 24 hour news stations they've got an update on you every hour Am?lie: please Abigail it's past just us our family this is the world we are talking about Am?lie: these protests throughout Europe over a ban on Rebellion's Mask CDs they aren't even getting any coverage Am?lie: last night i was at laura and andrew's place and everyone was talking about you, it's like everyone is obsessed with you Am?lie: why won't you answer Am?lie: come on you used to care about this stuff Am?lie: please you need to just stay out of the public eye just for a few days until the protests start getting coverage As I looked through the texts, I started to feel guilty. The beast that I was birthing into the world, the fulfilment of the Sidereus Prophecy, it was actually changing how people thought. It was changing what was important- what was considered newsworthy. My scandals were seemingly knocking legitimate news off the front page. I texted back: Me: is it rlly that bad Am?lie: all the entertainment news networks they are starting to beat the credible news station in ratings Am?lie: from the research Ive done ive noticed that all of the credible news stations having to run stories about you in order to compete Am?lie: the nightly newscast here you were the top story for ten minutes last night Am?lie: its like entertainment news is taking over and worse there are more channels coming two devoted only to celebrity gossip like a 24 hour TMZ, there's going to be a show only about you then a show after that to talk about the show Am?lie: the scary thing is no one seems to notice i guess cause i know the truth i can see whats happening Am?lie: please you need to listen to me The moment I started texting Am?lie back, feeling an inkling of guilt, Lauren and the girls entered the room. They all wore their perfect smiles, sitting down on the couch and chairs across from me, smoothing their skirts and then crossing their legs. Lauren said, "Abby, look at these couches. They aren't what you asked for in your rider at all. Do you want me to call up the manager so you can yell at him? The guy who dropped your luggage kept bowing. It was really funny! Total LOL moment." I replied, "Uh- no not right now." I looked back at my phone and rapidly texted: Me: its status quo remember what my dad said i dont have a choice either Me: u dont know what Sandra is like Amelie: if there's any part of you in there that's Darren you'll fight this you'll take the chance Me: what do u want me to do Am?lie: cancel your performance stay off the news dont do anything for a few days let the real news come back Me: but my fans they love me i cant do that Am?lie: there was an election recount i was following in the ukraine it isn't even being covered anymore Am?lie: a bi-election two days ago in Toronto had the worst voter turnout since the late 90s Am?lie: on news websites the comment section for articles about you have ten times the amount for legitimate news, the top read articles are all entertainment related Am?lie: ive been tracking these trends since you started hitting big and what ive realized is two things Am?lie: people are starting to care less about well anything really and the other its making people stupid complacent and it only seems to be getting worse Am?lie: even people who hate you are talking about you that's the problem Me: but itll reach a point where people just get sick of it right theyll tune out Am?lie: but it might be too late by then Lauren said, "Abby, are you listening to me? Hello! Abby!" The young woman smiled as I looked up at her, turning away from my phone. She said, "What are you shopping or something? You never look that intense on your phone. You are like super serious girl. What's up?" I replied, "It's nothing." The red head girl said, "Is it a boy? The cute one you met last night at the press conference?" I nodded, "Sure, yeah- it's a boy." Instead of leaving me be, the girls quickly crowded around me, trying to see my phone. I sighed gently, realizing there was no need to try and hide this from my girls. They were my friends. They would understand my trepidation. I asked, "What do you guys think about all this? All the craziness that has happened. These scandals. Do you believe any of it?" Lauren shook her head, "None of what they are saying is true, Abby. You've never told any lies. Right, girls?" The girls nodded their heads in unison. I frowned, unconvinced. I booted up my state-of-the-art laptop, and it took only a few minutes to realize that Am?lie was right. Stories involving my alleged sordid antics were reported on before anything else, and because of the nature of newsworthiness and the concept of timeliness in journalism, there was an abundance of other news involving celebrities behaving badly. Even the BBC, the New York Times and the Washington Post, bastions of journalistic, integrity were inundated with these stories. The other news was there, but no one seemed to be paying attention to it. It seemed that everyone was salivating for more sordid celebrity misbehaviour. I looked up during my research, noticing my girls sporting worried looks. They were all texting rapidly. After ten minutes, Lauren interrupted, "Hey Abby, there's a marathon of Keeping up with the Kardashians starting in five minutes. You must be tired after the flight, why don't I order a massage for you, we'll brew some Camomile tea, get you all relaxed for bed. You've got a big day tomorrow. A huge press conference, a tour of the Imperial Gardens, a meet-and-greet session in downtown Tokyo and then a sold-out concert! You shouldn't be worrying about this stuff. It doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is making you happy and relaxed. Right, girls?" Again, they nodded their heads. I looked at my girls seriously, "I know I have a big day tomorrow. But- I just want to know, do you think all this, you know all this stuff I ask for, how I act, the crazy amount of press everything gets from this tour, do you think it's bad? One of the blondes asked, "Bad how? Like for your career?" I shook my head, "Bad for the world. What if it makes people not care about things that are important? Things they should care about." Lauren replied with surprising severity, "I never want to hear you talk like that, Abby. You are a sweet, sweet girl, and what you do makes people happy. You bring this, um, light into their lives. You know?" The red head said, "Yeah exactly. What you do is really, really important. Without it, people would be really sad. Like totally depressed- all the time." Lauren added, "In a lot of cases, in my opinion, you keep people going. Without you, they have nothing." I raised an incredulous brow, "Really? But I mean, what about the other news?" Lauren replied, "What like killing and politics and junk? It makes people mad, and it makes people hate. You are like the opposite of that. The world needs you." I shrugged my shoulders, "I-I don't know about that. I think maybe what I do distracts people. From what is really important." Lauren said, "Relax, Abby. You worry about way more than any teenage girl should! What does it matter as long as your fans love you? You love performing for them, don't you?" I frowned, "Why can't teenagers worry about stuff? I care about the impact I'm having on the world." One of my girls brought me a Camomile tea. Then another slowly guided me to the table where my personal masseuse waited. I hadn't even seen them bring the table in. Expert hands were soon working out my kinks, the stress and worry that I carried in my neck and shoulders. The other blonde turned on the massive plasma TV and soon enough the adventures of the Kardashian family were being broadcast into my brain, dulling the immediate need to deal with Am?lie's concerns. I fought the urge to watch, and said, "No, this is important. I want to have an intelligent discussion with you girls. Do you think I'm a bad influence on the world? On girls? I mean look at some of them, even in middle school, showing their panties and thongs! It's kind of- well it's disgraceful. Right?" I was waiting for my girls to agree with me. Instead, Sandra walked in, the masseuse left, and the TV was turned off. Teetering on their high heels, my girls left a few seconds after. Sandra entered the room with a frown, "What is the problem here, Abigail?" Sandra rarely had to admonish me these days. The threat of becoming an obese nothing and the near constant distractions from the tour, my girls and the rigours of fame had removed much of my rebellion. I said firmly, "I-I don't like- I don't like how the Prophecy is changing things. How it's influencing people. It-just feels wrong. And people are writing such nasty things about me. I hate it! It makes me feel like I'm horrible." Sandra smiled, but she maintained firm contact with my eyes, "I've asked you not to read those nasty articles about yourself. They are all lies." I said, "No- not really! I read one about the interest in the upcoming US Presidential election- people are hardly paying attention to it. They did a poll and half of the people they asked said they weren't even voting! I-I'm starting to see what the Prophecy is doing. Don't you think it's wrong to do this people?" Sandra replied, "Let me explain something to you, Abigail. The people who succumb to the Prophecy are weak minded. They would never amount to anything either way. The intelligent ones, the critics and cynics who sit atop vaunted perches to pen venom about you, the ones who reject what you stand for, the message in your music, they are not swayed by the Prophecy. But they are in the minority." She added, "Without the Prophecy, the balance is ruined, and these essentially stupid people, they become very dangerous because of their numbers. The Prophecy exists to control them. Without the order that the Prophecy brings, there is anarchy. So without you, and the Kim Kardashians of the world to hold their feeble minds, they band together, but without purpose and without cause. It would be the end of civilized society if the masses were given a voice." A tiny smile appeared on Sandra's face, "So you see, Abigail, you exist to save the world from itself." I blinked, regarding Sandra with incredulity, "I-I do? Really? Why should I believe you? Of all people. You have the biggest stake in all this. Mr. Atwater, he said if the Prophecy isn't fulfilled, you die." Sandra asked, "Well- what did Lauren say about this, and the other girls? About how important you are?" I sighed gently, "Lauren said that people need me, they depend on me." Sandra nodded and smiled, "And you believe her, right?" I shrugged, "Well kind of. I really trust my girls, especially Lauren. But I have some doubts." Sandra said, "What happened before you really started to become popular, what was happening in the world? Do you remember?" I nodded, "There were lots of protests. People speaking out against their governments especially. I remember that Rebellion's Mask was at the heart of it with their anti-establishment message, and people were grabbing onto that. I remember there was even a coup somewhere in South America. Some people died." Sandra replied, "And it would have only gotten increasingly worse without your influence. You are the stabilizer. The fringe and fanatics have no one to bring under their banner now. You are so special, Abigail- you are maintaining the age old balance. You are more important than any president or prime minister. Once the Prophecy is fulfilled, the world will be saved from the anarchistic element for a decade at least, maybe longer if your influence is lasting. It's all you, Abigail. Only you." These words fed my self-love. Of course, I didn't really have an ego. I was still the same down-to-earth girl that I had been before becoming an international pop sensation. That is what my girls always told me, and now that Sandra and my girls were seemingly speaking the same language, she was making a lot of sense too. After all, she was the one who had demonstrated what a fat cow I was. I knew I looked better now because my girls always told me I looked amazing. Thin and pretty. Perfect. I still had one last niggling thought before I could fully bury my conscience. "When the Prophecy is fulfilled, everything will go back to normal, right? Am?lie, she'll get her job back. Alyssa will stop having the nightmares, and my parents' money problems too- they'll be gone, right?" I regarded Sandra severely. Sandra nodded her head, "Absolutely. Even poor Alexandre and V?ronique. They'll be returned to their former selves once the magic is completely spent. And that harridan social worker too. Oh, and let's not forget Miss Spears." Sandra asked, "So, do you understand now, do you understand your place in all this? I smiled and nodded, "Yes." I was basically the most important person in the world. *** Chapter 68 A few days later, after we had arrived in Australia, Sandra disappeared. My girls couldn't explain why beyond, "She went back to the agency." On my way back to the United Stated, I picked up a litany of awards for best new female artist, best single and best album from various European and Asian countries, and one other interesting record- I had officially become the most talked about and viewed person on the entire Internet. My YouTube channel had over a billion hits, and whenever a new video was posted, it received well over a million hits within a few days. During my Australian tour, I also went house shopping. The lease was up on the mansion/recording studio where I stayed during my first few months in Hollywood, so I was eager to find something suitable to my expanded taste. I chose a veritable palace in the Hollywood Hills, just a few doors down from my BFF, Harmony. It featured an indoor swimming pool, tennis court and a full-sized theatre- not to mention, a professional recording studio that made the one I recorded my album in look like an amateur basement operation. I bought it immediately, without even seeing it in person. In Sandra's absence, Lauren became my new guardian, and she loved to shop. She and I bought mountains of shoes and clothing online and in exclusive boutiques, and while the house was a huge purchase, I didn't care. I wanted it, and I would have it. I wasn't sure exactly how Lauren managed to do the mortgage, but I didn't worry about the details. We performed concerts in Brisbane, Adelaide, Perth and Melbourne and finished with a huge show in Sydney with massive laser display in front of the Opera House. It was an exhausting three weeks, but I enjoyed myself, despite the near constant attention from the paparazzi. By this point, they were hounding me on a daily basis. Anywhere I walked, I was followed by hundreds of media. On the flight back to North America, Lauren gave me an envelope. Inside was a letter from Sandra, and a gorgeous diamond necklace. I looked at it in my private cabin. The letter read: _______________________________________________________________________ _______ Abigail, my angel: I have left this for you to show my full appreciation for what you have done. The necklace is yours to keep, and when you arrive at your new home, there will be a surprise waiting for you in the driveway. Don't speed too much now, but enjoy yourself! Though your road was not easy, you have become a shining star, more brilliant than any of those who came before you. Your reach, with the invention of mass media and the rapid transit of information through the Internet, is unprecedented. Revel in your victory, Abigail, for you have ultimately saved your brethren from a pointless extinction. Congratulations, to you my beautiful, talented angel, your work has fulfilled the Sidereus Prophecy. Though those below you will never truly know of your work, you will forever be their saviour. Enjoy your life- the gift bestowed upon you by the Prophecy. Love, Sandra _______________________________________________________________________ ______ *** To say that Alyssa was excited to see me was an understatement. She stood in the lobby of my Ottawa hotel suite practically hovering in place, her body rigid, yet her arms flailed wildly. She embraced me tightly, to the point where I struggled to breathe momentarily. Then, she looked at me with a goofy grin and practically gushed, but she didn't say a word. She was having trouble formulating a sentence. I took the initiative. I smiled, "Hi." Alyssa responded with a garbled collection of syllables strung together into something that was barely English. I said, "I'm still the same person, Alyssa." Alyssa shook her head resoundingly, "No- you are- I can't believe that I'm getting the chance to- I just love your music so much Abby. Seriously- it's all I think about sometimes. Like when I'm in class in get the lyrics in my head, and I'm like, Like WOW, girl you kiss so hot! I just- I can't...I can't believe I'm finally getting to see you! You were like in my classes, and we were like best friends! Can I really go to the Junos with you and Lauren? That would be so amazing!!! I don't think I'll be able to sleep at all the night before!" She wrapped her arms around me and said with vigour, "I'm so happy to see you!" Alyssa was going to accompany me to the Juno Awards, the Canadian music awards. Alyssa said, "I kept telling my mom, Abby's coming back for me! I'm going back with you, right? Your tour's only got a few months left though, right? I can come this time? Please?" Sandra and Mr. Atwater weren't around any longer, and Lauren and I agreed about everything, so I didn't really see a problem with it. Plus, Alyssa worshipped the ground that I walked on, so it was hard to say no. I smiled, "Of course. You can definitely come with me. I mean your mom, I guess she'd have to let you go." Alyssa asked, "How come you aren't staying at your sister's? The hotel is nice, but- I thought for sure you'd go there. I mean- don't you miss them?" I replied, "We don't really get along anymore. She doesn't like what I'm doing. And she thinks I've really changed. I think she's just stupid, I mean- I offered for her to come and live in my new house in the Hollywood Hills. You'll love it when you see it!" Am?lie and I had barely spoken since her text asking me to lay low. I told her about the Prophecy being fulfilled and how she would likely be able to work again. Alyssa shrieked, "I can't wait! Oh my god, I can't believe this is really happening. No one believes that we were ever friends! Stupid V?ronique too, last week, she was like, Abby was my BFF. God I hate her so much! I'm so happy you are here, Abby! School sucks too. I miss you so much! Ethan tries to help me, but he's not as patient as you. He gets mad at me. I can't help it, but I'm just really tired a lot still." I raised a brow, "Really? Are you still having nightmares?" A small lump formed in my throat. The Prophecy was fulfilled, and yet, V?ronique was seemingly still a bitch, and Alyssa looked only slightly more rested than when I saw her last. Alyssa nodded her head, "Yeah. But it's not every night. My mom, she saved a bunch of money, and she's been sending me to this sleep therapist. She's really nice, and she's definitely helped a bunch. Like she has me go through these relaxation exercises. A lot of weird breathing, but it works- sometimes." I said, "Let me- let me send you to the Mayo clinic or something. It's one of the best in the world. They can help you. I'll pay for all your sessions too." Alyssa beamed, "Wow, Abby! You are so nice! I can't believe there's so many mean stories about you! I stick up for you at school. Like if someone is talking, like saying, oh her music is crap, or like when they say you are so fake and stupid or whatever, I'm like- no that's my girl, and now I know it's true." I smiled, and Alyssa said, "So I noticed you like don't wear Ethan's necklace anymore? All the pics I've seen of you lately, you've been wearing that beautiful necklace- um, do you think, do you think you guys will ever get back together?" Before receiving the diamond necklace from Sandra, I had continued to wear the necklace with the two crossed guitars- my sweet sixteen present from Ethan. My girls had encouraged me to forget Ethan, to wear something else, something that wasn't a cheap trinket. A part of me had hoped that he was still looking at me in publicity photos. The same part that sent desperate and somewhat risqu? 'selfies' that featured me and only part of a bikini, and the necklace. I had wanted him to know that I still thinking about him. Now, I didn't care. Mostly. I shrugged, "What does he say about me?" Alyssa bit her lip gently and kicked her legs back and forth. She threw herself back on the king-sized bed and sighed heavily. I said firmly, "Tell me." Alyssa frowned, "When I talk about you, he rolls his eyes. He says you are a fake, a poser He thinks you've completely sold out and that you have, in his own words, minus twenty-five thousand rock credibility." The girl sighed heavily, "I hope you two will get back together soon! You guys were perfect! And it took you SO long to get with him! Almost a whole semester! What- what happened between you guys anyway?" I said, "He didn't tell you?" Alyssa said softly, "I want to hear you say your side of it, Abby." I replied, "Well we snuck back to my hotel room after rehearsal. I went into the bathroom, got the hot tub ready and- I put my bikini on." Alyssa asked, "The one you were wearing in those 'Here's what you're missing' pics?" I nodded, "Yeah. Exactly. Well I go out there, looking amazing and everything, and he's in the bed and watching TV. He's barely paying attention me." I continued, "So I go up next to him, and I'm like climbing on him, kissing his neck and everything, and he's sort of getting into it. And then he gets like all weird all of a sudden. Basically, he likes fat girls. That's what I think. He couldn't handle the new me. But it's like a sickness in his head. I was like that too before- I mean you remember, I was actually OK with being that weight." Alyssa frowned, "Yeah, but you had trouble with it too. I remember lots of texts you sent me about feeling fat. But when you were with Ethan, it was like it didn't matter. That's what you told me, Abby. I'm not sure you're right about Ethan either. And why is it bad to like girls who were your old size? I hate being so skinny, I would rather look like you used to look, Abby. No offense. I still have like no boobs. It sucks." I shook my head, dismissing Alyssa's words as fanciful, "Anyway, I'm all over him, and I caught Ethan watching TV! I ask him what the hell is wrong, and he basically tells me that he liked the old me. So the fat me." I added, "He's not even on my mind anymore. I've got so many guys who are into me. Every time I go out dancing with Lauren, there's like twenty different guys who try and get my number. It's like- I never would have gotten that kind of attention if I was still a fat ass." Alyssa said, "Well you are a celebrity now. A lot of guys probably like that." I said, "Yeah, but I mean, look at me. Celebrity or not- I think guys would want this. Don't you?" Alyssa seemed to consider her response, and then replied gently, "Sure, Abby." *** It was the day after the Junos. I was a winner again, bringing home best Canadian female artist, best new artist and album of the year. I performed too. I was disappointed that the crowd wasn't as frenzied as usual, but with award shows, it was a mixed crowd. I caught the eye of musicians in the audience that I respected, whose music I loved, staring at me disdainfully- hating me. To cleanse my mind of the realization that my musical heroes hated me, I went to an after party with Lauren. In the tumult of the crowd, the ever present paparazzi and my awards, Alyssa was mostly forgotten. I thought nothing of it because, after all, I had allowed her to come. She got to see me perform, and that was reward enough. I sat in the limousine outside the girl's home, trying to decide whether or not to take her with me. I hadn't invited her to the after party because, honestly- the girl was tremendously embarrassing. She gushed over every performer before me and chatted with celebrities in the audience that didn't want to be bothered. She was an annoying fan- the kind of fan I despised. For this reason, I was having second thoughts about bringing her on the tour. Even though she was an interminable super fan, it was a hard decision to make because she was Alyssa- my one-time school saviour, my confidante, my pre-Hollywood BFF. I texted her: Me: hey Alyssa: hi Alyssa: going to apoligise for yesterdy Me: what Alyssa: u left me @ the junos Me: i told the limo to get u Alyssa: no u didnt i waitd 45 mins u never answered ure phone Me: i was out w lauren i really thought i sent the limo for u Alyssa: u didnt abby im rll sorry i went u ignored me all nite Me: i thought u wanted to go to the awards really bad Alyssa: i wanted to spend time w u abby Alyssa: u had autograph siging tv show then u went shopping wo me Alyssa: i heard they closed the store for u Me: yah so people just come up to me all the time even w bodyguards Me: im tired of being bothered all the time i love performing but i just wanna try on jeans in peace Alyssa: u dont get it u r supposed to b my friend abby Alyssa: i got to talk to u for like 5 mins in ur hotel Alyssa: and u ignored me in the limo u were on ur phone the hole tiem Me: i was tweeting w people its important u dont get it Alyssa: rlly u were talking to kim about a new diet u 2 r on Alyssa: i just wanted to spend time w u that all abby hang out like we used to Alyssa: i got mybe ten minutes and u were here 3 days I was growing angry with Alyssa's tone. I stared down at my phone. Lauren, who sat across from me, asked, "What's up, Abby? Are you going to leave this shit stain you call a hometown? We going to Malibu tomorrow? Tour doesn't start up for a few days still!" I nodded, "Soon. And yeah, I wanna show off this bikini body." It would be one of the few times I would actually welcome the paparazzi. Snap, snap, smile! Me: r u coming or not Alyssa: no my mom wont let me Me: well screw her just tell her u r leaving w me is she worried about a tutor ill get a stupid tutor for u Alyssa: she dont even remember giving me permisson Alyssa: even if she did i dont think i would want to go Alyssa: i just luv being ignored all the time by someone who i thought was my friend Me: come on alyssa im ur friend Alyssa: i dont feel that way i think ethans rite Me: come on ur mom can come along if she wants i dont care she should try this new diet ive been on Me: dont tell me shes happy that way Alyssa: sometimes and sometimes not like me and like u used to be anyway i dont wanna go Me: why cause youll miss ur mom i thought u said u hated school dont u wanna go on the road with me Alyssa: no Me: why not Alyssa never texted back. *** By summer, I had only set foot in my new home a few times. Out of the goodness of my heart, I offered to move Am?lie and Chloe to the new house. While touring, I would see them rarely, but at least they would have had a stable home. Without a job, and without my parents' support, I couldn't understand how she kept the house. Worse still, the woman refused any of my attempts at charity. I offered to buy the house for her outright. No monthly payments- nothing. She vehemently refused. Since the fulfilment of the Prophecy, we had barely spoken. I had sent her texts asking about Chloe. Am?lie would always respond with the same question, "When are you coming to see her?" I missed my daughter, and even Am?lie, but there always seemed to be something going on. Whether it was parties at the Kardashian-West residence, press conferences, dinners with Harmony, or two and sometimes three- hour workouts. Not to mention the tour. There just wasn't time to fly home and see my family. I still talked to my parents now and then, mostly on the phone, but as with Am?lie, something else always came up. I suppose it was a weak excuse, but I had been indoctrinated in the celebrity lifestyle- the celebrity existence. My life basically never stopped. The tour was exhausting, the press junkets with their endless flow of questions/accusations and the paparazzi that made it their life goal to document my existence- I was living in a constant blur. There was another reason I didn't want to see Am?lie and Chloe. I knew that Martin had become a permanent fixture in Am?lie's life, and while I had moved on since Ethan, enjoying flings with some of Hollywood's most prominent young men. I still hated the idea of Am?lie being with someone else, and that man raising my daughter. Instead of facing the problem head-on, seeking a solution where I could see Chloe more often, I ignored it. While touring South America, I received a text from Am?lie: Am?lie: Are you back in North America on the 8th? It says on your tour page that you are Am?lie: I need to see you then, it's in two weeks Me: ill be going back home to Cali then im singing at a sweet sixteen party for one of the Kardashians Am?lie: When's the party? Me: i dunna like august sometime Am?lie: Well can you fly down to my parents' place on August 8th weekend Me: maybe not sure prob not cause im supposed to see harmony that weekend Am?lie: well can you check? Me: im pretty sure I cant Am?lie: Can you please check? I really need to see you Me: cant we just skype or whatever Am?lie: I need you to sign the divorce papers Me: im p