"I don't understand!" my father yelled as he walked into the house. "We excelled at our jobs! They're clearly not in the right mindset."
"Exactly!" my mother said, her voice ringing through the house. They took a seat on the couch, facing each other. "It's them that's the problem! I hope they have fun finding people better than us."
"What happened?" I asked, walking into the room after overhearing the conversation.
"Well. . . sweetheart, you know the company that mom and dad work for?" my mother said, her voice suddenly warm.
"Yes? What happened?" I repeated, eager to hear the news.
"Well, let's just say the owner isn't very nice. We were fired," said my father, getting straight to the point. He leaned closer to me. "Remember this, don't ever work for the company we worked for. The owners aren't fair, never will be, and the son? He'll probably be just like them! In fact, he probably already is!" With that, he leaned back onto the couch and began addressing my mother again.
I walked out of the room, confused but angry. They had lost their jobs? Just because of the company? Really, had they done anything wrong? I could feel hatred boiling in the pits of my stomach. It was the owner's fault. Now my family would suffer because of one decision. I hated them. The whole family. Even the son, who was only eight. Only a year older than me. Felix. I loathed them all.
~13 years later~
Felix's face stares back at me as I blankly gaze at the television. The headline states "Billionaire Family's Company Crashes", the news reporter saying something that includes, "bankrupt", "years of struggling," and "market crashing". Shock is the first emotion that I register. I never thought that such a rich and famous family would ever go bankrupt. But the fact remains true, and all the evidence is in front of me, on the small square television screen. I still feel the resentment burned into me for taking away the little income we had. But money is no problem now. I had already made broken multiple world records this year in several categories with my music career, not to mention the uncountable green slips of papers sitting in my bank account. Satisfaction courses through me. The roles are reversed now. How does Felix feel?
I stand up and turn the television off, making my way to the dressing room. Dozens of people are already there, ironing and perfecting my outfit for tonight. There are three separate clothing set ups that I will change into between breaks, all of them laid out on a wide, marble table. The room is filled with chatter and excitement; concert nights are everyones favorites. After quickly thanking everyone for their work and exchanging a couple hugs, I hurry over to the makeup room. The moment I take a seat, three to four people begin applying concealer and eyeshadow to match my outfit. We experiment with different hairstyles, then eyeliners, then lipsticks. After my makeup is finished, I go back to the dressing room to see if my clothes are ready.
Twenty minutes before the concert begins, I slip into my dark blue suit and pull on my black boots. While tying my laces, I can hear the crowd chanting my name. Smiling, I rush out of the dressing room and over to the edge of the two massive screens currently playing my music videos. In front of the screens, thousands of fans are waving my lightsticks around slowly and singing along. The sun had begun to set, the blue lights coming from the top of the stadium starting to shine brighter. Double checking my earrings and necklaces, I hurry over to stairs leading underground. Once there, I step onto the smooth black platform that will rise up once the time is ready. Ten minutes. The sound engineers are making last minute adjustments, increasing the volume of the speakers and balancing multiple sounds.
"Ma'am?" a man's voice suddenly says behind me. "Apologies for the interruption, but we have finally found your new bodyguard. So sorry to do this at the last minute."
I turn around and my eyes fall on a man in a baggy hoodie and sweatpants. Staring at me. My heart drops.
It's Felix.
What the hell? What is he doing here? How and why did he get this job? Who in their right mind decided hire him?
"Why- -?" Before I have time to say anything or even contemplate my manager's decision, the music above stops abruptly, signaling that it's my time to go up.
The crowd is now louder than ever, but it doesn't block the sound of my heart beat. They chant my name again and again, getting louder each time. They chant until my name doesn't even sound like a name anymore, more like a syllable that has no sense or meaning.
"Beginning on the count of three," someone holding a clipboard says, signaling to the controls where a group of people are flipping switches. "One. . . two. . . three. Start the platform."
I hear the first few notes of one of my songs play before the support beams under the platform begin to rise, lifting me to the first floor. The moment the audience can see my head, they begin screaming, shrieking I should say. By now the sky is a dark blue, the same color as my suit. The bright beams of blue are the only light source in the stadium, besides the two enormous screens behind me displaying my face. It is time to shine.