Disclaimer: My FL especially cusses a lot, and she can cross the line into being rude and a flat out asshole. That's her character, and it'll get better over time. Don't hate her lol. Thank you for reading.
"Bitch, fuck you."
"Camilla!!!"
My manager, Adam, a man in his late 20's with somehow already developing alopecia, screamed after I flipped off an old woman who had been glaring at me.
I just wanted to smoke, the fuck was wrong with that? Ten bucks said she was a pro smoker back in the day.
Bloody hypocrite.
"Yeah, don't be rude. Got it." I drawled, flicking the finished cigarette onto the cement floor.
Then I climbed into the black and sleek vehicle waiting for me at the sidewalk.
"Cam, you really gotta reel it in!" Adam said as he followed me into it, and then closed the door. "You're already treading on very thin ice."
The vehicle was wide enough for both of us to sit opposite each other. I crossed my legs and looked out the window as Los Angeles passed by us, glowing buildings, people drinking and living life.
"Camilla." Adam said my full name again, and his voice had dropped several octaves. Oh. That wasn't good.
"I will drop you, if you keep this up."
Wait. What?
My ears perked up and I nearly flew out of my seat from the shock.
"What?! You'll drop me?! You can't do that! I still have 2 more years in the contract!"
Adam pushed his hand through his dyed purple hair, his face lined from stress. When I first met him, he could have deadass been a model because of how hot and sharp his features were.
Now, he looked…..well.
I wonder whose fault that was.
"Yeah, you do. But you have brought more losses than profits to us in the past five months. The executives are asking me for a solution, and I'm afraid the only thing I could think of was—"
"To drop me?!" I interrupted him, my eyes widening. "I'm not even that bad. Sure, I—"
"Camilla." Adam looked pissed now. "You flipped off an old woman less than ten minutes ago. You've trashed a hotel room, cussed out a reporter, and showed up DRUNK to your sophomore album release party!!" He yelled, and I flinched in my seat. Okay, maybe I was that bad.
"But you can't drop me! Please, I'll do anything. Don't drop me." I had to pinch myself hard to prevent tears from slipping out of my eyes. I couldn't go back THERE. To them.
My parents.
I couldn't.
I had spent my entire life clawing my way out of that house. Trying desperately to get the fuck away from them, and pave my own path without their control and judgement.
I couldn't go back.
"Please, Adam. I'll do anything. I'll fix my image, i'll—please just don't drop me." I pleaded with Adam, hating how pathetic I probably looked.
I was THE Camilla Rossi.
Unapologetic, crazy Camilla Rossi, two time Grammy winner, Rock revival Queen. At the mere age of 23.
And I hardly begged for favours.
But here I was.
Adam considered my words, using a hand to stroke his goatee. Then he sighed, and nodded his head. He leaned forward, his blue eyes twinkling.
"There IS something you could do. A reality show."
Ugh???!
"A reality show?!" I exploded, my acrylic nails nearly scratching his face from how I randomly raised my hands up. "I can't do that! They're for wannabe famous folks, cringe. I can't do it." I protested.
Adam shook his head and rested back, folding his arms across his chest. "Then you leave me no choice. Your contract will be termin—"
"Wait!!!"
My exclamation startled even the driver and we nearly hit an incoming trailer. The car swerved violently, and then came to a halt.
"Mr Gray," the driver started, his voice shaking. "I demand double payment for this! She nearly caused an accident just now, and I'm too young to die over some pop rockstar!" He stated, before starting the engine once more and moving.
Adam groaned and muttered to himself, rubbing his eyes with his left hand.
"I'll do the reality show! I'll do it, Adam!" I said, cussing myself out in my mind for even considering something as silly as that. But I didn't have a choice. It was either a reality show….or...
For the first time in maybe two months, a smile crept onto Adam's lips, and he nodded his head in approval. "Now, we're talking. I'm glad you're seeing things my way now."
Seeing things my way, my foot. Asshat.
"The show is Love & Lies, a new dating show Global Core is sponsoring. Your goal, is to go on that shoe, and rebrand yourself."
"Rebrand myself? But—"
"I'm not done, Camilla." Adam hushed me with a finger raised to his lip. "You WILL rebrand yourself. You'll get rid of this chaotic and destructive persona you have somehow built and calcified into your public image. You will behave, and pair up with someone on the show."
Pair up with someone? Where was the sense in that?
"But why do I have to pair with someone?" I whined, tapping my nails on the leather chair. "I don't do love, remember? I'm asexual."
Adam stared at me. "We'll see about that. Myself and the executives have our reasons for insisting on this, and we believe it will yield positive results. So, Miss Camilla Rossi, you WILL participate in the show. It holds for eight weeks at a villa. If you somehow manage to get kicked out for terrible behaviour, we're dropping you. Good luck, Camilla."
Fuck my life.