The Lucky One
Ch. 1: They'll Tell You Now, "You're The Lucky One."
His hands are stuffed in his pockets as he walks. A smug smile is playing on the corners of his lips. And if it weren't for his shades, you'd be able to see a glimpse of his ego in his eyes. He knows what moves to pose and in what order. He's an expert in saying the correct words in the right way to make people worship the ground he walks on. Getting followed by a group of people with their cameras isn't weird to him anymore. Nowadays, it makes all of this look like a beautiful dream.
He laughs at the appropriate times and tells jokes to keep them enchanted. He knows how to make them feel comfortable. He knows all the right moves to deal to keep him in the game. After all, he's been doing this for quite too long. He's been in this business long enough to see others rise and fall in matter of seconds. And he's learned from those people's mistakes that if he doesn't want to turn from a well-known to a has-been, he needs to be two steps ahead from everyone.
He answers a few questions in the most interesting way possible. That's all he's ever known how to do. Since a young age he's known that everybody loves cool. He's been practicing since he was five on how to grab a crowds attention. Talking about himself is second nature now as he uses it to help him stay in spotlight.
As always the crowd is star struck. They are mesmerized with every little word he says. He captivates them as he makes it seem like they're long lost friends. They might as well be considering that they know more about him than he does himself.
But everything good must come to an end. And as they hear him say the beginning of his goodbye, the crowd starts to panic. They scramble to get his attention as the last few words leave his mouth. They all want one more minute, one more second in the presence of him. They want him as bad as the world does. They want to know him as much as he'll let them. They just want to know everything.
He can't help but smirk at their reaction. He waves one last time to the crowd before he turns around to get ready for tonight's concert. But as he opens the door and is about to step in, someone shouts out, "You're the lucky one!"
And for that split second he loses himself. He stumbles on his footstep as the strength of his legs disappears. His throat gets dry and he can't control the rate of his heart that is jumping out of his chest. His breath is jagged and he sees how everyone keeps talking but the only thing he can hear coming out of their mouth is the phrase of, "You're the lucky one." And he can't ignore them as he shuts his eyes tight.
But this all occurs in a blur. It happens in a blink of an eye because no one is talking and everyone is still smiling at him when he opens his eyes. They just stare at him as they wait to hear the last few words of this unexpected ten minute interview. They are so intrigued of being in his presence that they don't notice the stutter in his voice when he thanks the person, or how he seems to want to be out of the spotlight for the first time.
As he walks away he can't shake off this feeling. He makes sure to shut the door as he hears the last few clicks of the cameras and sees from the corner of his eyes how the flashes slowly fade away. He feels like he's survived a close encounter with death. It feels nice to have a sturdy door between him and the person who mentioned those four words. He takes a big gulp air as he closes his eyes again in relief this time.
But he can't relax for more than five seconds; because security guards are coming towards him and are leading him to his dressing room. And before he knows it, the time has come to preforms. He is in his wardrobe room with his hair perfectly imperfect. He wears the first clothing of the ten changes that he is planning to make. Yet all he can do in these last few minutes is stare at his reflection for the last thirty seconds that he will have for himself for the next three hours in a half.
He hopes for the best as he runs his fingers through his hair. Letting out a sigh he closes his eyes, and the next time that he opens them there's a sea of people in front of him shouting his name. They are holding signs of all shapes and sizes that express their love for him. And although this makes him smile in the most genuine way, he can't help but wish that he was back to square one. When he was in high school dreaming of being a singer. Back when the people who talked to him did so because they cared.
In the end it doesn't matter which city he's playing at or how many people come, because he can search as hard as he wants when he performs, but there's one pair of brown eyes that he'll never see.
