Chapter 1
Kent smiled and took a bow as the crowd roared with applause. He stood back up with a beaming smile. He loved to bask in the attention of his fans. He listened to all of the fans that were chanting his name.
"Kent McKinley will be backstage signing autographs for any interested fans," announced someone from a far off control booth.
Kent rolled his eyes, yet none of his fans seemed to notice. This was the part of the evening that Kent hated the most. He hated signing autographs and getting to meet his fans. They were always overly excited to meet him. Some of them would scream so loud when they saw him that it would make him suffer from headaches. He also detested meeting wannabe singers who were hoping that he could give them an edge in somewhere. They had to suck it up already and realize that they weren't as good, and never would be, as good as him.
Some members of the crew backstage offered to take care of Kent's guitar while some offered to hand him a towel to wipe away the sweat with. Instead of being grateful for the towel and the guitar handoff, Kent pushed them both back demanding that they give him his space. He shoved the guitar at a crew member standing off to the left and yanked the towel out of another crew member's hands.
"Mr. McKinley sir, your fans are waiting for you," said the voice of his manager.
Kent released a long, drawn out sigh into the towel and threw it at another crew member, who stumbled back in surprise as the towel hit him. His manager led him through the crew members, who were busy dismantling the set and packing it up for the next location, and to a table that was situated by the venue entrance. In front of the table were hordes of teenage girls screaming his name. When they saw him, it just seemed to make the screams grow louder.
"I'll be back to relieve you of your fans in an hour," said his manager with a slight smile as he turned and walked off.
Kent turned and watched his manager walk off, thinking, "An hour in my hometown of London with a bunch of screaming girls? WHY?!"
Kent turned back around to look at his adoring fans and placed a fake smile upon his face. He knew that he couldn't show his fans that he was unhappy to see them if he wanted to keep receiving their money. He knew that he couldn't afford to show them what a monster he was.
He signed autographs and took pictures with fanatic girls for a bit; the time seeming to stretch on and on. It wasn't until this teenage girl stood in front of her that he snapped out of his time warp. She had on a pair of faded blue jeans and a brown corduroy jacket. Some black boots that were on her feet had dried mud caked on them. She had an acoustic guitar strapped to her back; a notebook clutched tightly in her hands. Her auburn colored hair was tucked into a ponytail on the top of her head; her hazel eyes peeking out at him through thick, black framed glasses.
"Hi. My name is Belle," said the girl sticking her hand out.
"Hi," I said staring at her hand instead of shaking it.
Belle blushed and quickly withdrew her hand from in front of me. She used both hands to hug the notebook tight to her chest as if the book were about to explode.
"I'm such a fan of your work...,"
"Why thank you," said Kent interrupting Belle.
"...and I was just wondering...I know you're local talent and I was just wondering..."
Kent glared at Belle.
"You're asking me for help boosting your music career, aren't you?"
"Yes...I mean, it would greatly help...I mean, no one wants to give me a shot because I...
"Let me guess! It's because you ramble so much, right? I mean, if you ramble in your speech, you must ramble in your songs! I'm sorry. I can't help you. I'm very busy."
Belle tried to choke back tears, not knowing what to say. With tears brimming in the corners of her eyes, she turned and walked away.
Kent watched Belle walk away. He smirked. He knew that she wouldn't have a shot in the music career. The girl that was next in line looked like a punk. She had dark black hair and black eyeshadow outlining her bright blue eyes. She had an odd black skirt on with a purple t-shirt. She was wearing converse sneakers with purple and gray socks.
"Can I help you?" asked Kent after the girl just stood there glaring at him in silence for a couple of minutes.
"No, but maybe you can help yourself," said the girl.
Kent was puzzled by what the girl was saying. What was she talking about?
The girl placed her hands on the table and leaned forward toward Kent, close enough so that only Kent could hear what she said.
"None of your other fans heard the transaction that just occured between you and Belle. In their eyes you're still their perfect angel, yet I know clearly that what lies within you is not a heart of gold, but a heart of thorns."
"What are you doing sticking your nose where it doesn't belong?" hissed back Kent. "You can't tell me how to run my life. You're not the boss of me. Now scram. I'm not about to have a lecture from some freak."
The girl smiled a coy smile and said, "We'll just see who the freak is."
She leaned forward and gripped his hand before he had time to yank it away. Her hand was only there for a mere moment, yet when she took her hand off his hand and walked away, she could still feel its presence burning there. What did she mean?
Unbeknownst to Kent, he would find out the answer soon enough.
