Adam Levine was lying down on a California King in Cabo San Lucas. He was sipping Patron out of the bottle and watching reruns of The Voice. Caroline Glaser was singing and Adam didn't turn his chair around.
"You fucking idiot," he said aloud, "Look at those blowjob lips!" Adam knocked over a plate of egg rolls as he swung out of bed. He was surrounded by half-eaten plates of room service. He thought he couldn't decide on what to eat but after some under-cooked Chicken Quesadillas he decided that it wasn't his indecision that made him re-order plates and plates of food, it was just that this food fucking sucked. He had called the fifteen year-old concierge and told her that multiple times. He had screamed and screamed at her until she wept but that was hours ago and it was just a vague memory now.
Adam stepped out onto the balcony of his bungalow and watched the many lights of boats dotting the horizon. They must be fishing boats making their morning runs. He remembered what Blake and Shakira had said when he told them he was going to Cabo this weekend. Blake scoffed and asked "Why are you always going out of town, Adam?" Adam wanted to tell Blake to go fuck himself. He went out of town because he was rich and famous and he could do whatever he wanted. He never said that though. He just laughed and said it was for his fragrance or he was taking a special lady out. Adam had no special lady and he could give a shit about his goddamn fragrance Women wanted to fuck him but he wasn't interested anymore. He remembered Jane and the way they'd smoke weed in his shitty apartment in Echo Park and watch episodes of Gilmore Girls. She'd laugh until she cried and he would put his arm around her and kiss her hair. He loved the way her shoulders shook when she laughed. He couldn't think about that now though. Jane was gone and Adam was famous. Now his weekends consisted of doing cocaine in club bathrooms with vacant looking supermodels. It had its perks but he missed feeling warm inside.
Adam didn't want to tell Blake that he went on vacation all the time because he was so profoundly lonely. Adam felt like he didn't particularly like anyone in LA. He liked strangers. He liked shooting the shit with young people who worked for NGOs in dour hotel bars. He hated that Blake teased him though. It made Adam feel like he didn't have a home. Adam sometimes worried he liked traveling so much because he couldn't commit to one person, one home, one job. Adam supposed he technically had two homes. One in Beverly Hills and one in Hollywood Hills. Why did he have two homes in the same fucking city? He wanted to find somewhere real: a place where he felt comfortable, but Adam was afraid that place didn't exist. Adam hit a bowl of weed laced with the tiniest hint of PCP. He had to remind himself that it was the drugs that made him rethink his life and thats not what he really thought when was sober. He stared at the boats receding in the gloomy pre-dawn mist. He hoped that was true at least.