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- 10/29/2019
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- 34 Comments
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Singer - 17. Old Friend
Six years after leaving New York, Chipper was a confident man. His anger at his father’s infidelity and having to leave his hometown had waned. However, the longing to stroll the congested sidewalks of Manhattan had grown. During his time at the University of Miami, he realized he was good enough to make it in the music business and able to plant roots wherever he wanted. That was in the Big Apple.
Greg Nalbo’s attempt to dictate his future rattled him. The entertainment mogul was a roadblock on his chosen path. The call to Ethan Feldman, his long-time friend and attorney, provided a temporary respite from the turmoil.
“Miles’ a good guy, bud. He’ll take good care of you.” Ethan had conferenced Miles Abramonov into the call, and the Los Angeles attorney had made plans to meet with Chipper.
“I hope so, man. This shit sucks!”
“You need some TLC. Get me tickets to next week’s shows. I’m coming to see you.” On Friday before the quarterfinals show, Ethan flew to Los Angeles.
Ethan Feldman, born in Burlington, Ontario to a Canadian father and an American mother, grew up in Roslyn, Long Island and attended New York University for his undergraduate degree. While at law school in Virginia, he met two of the men at The Squad’s core. He was folded into the group and the shared connection to New York led to him and Chipper becoming close.
“Must be nice to just take time off work and travel.” Ethan’s arrival put a real smile on Chipper’s face for the first time since receiving Nalbo’s threats.
“Who says I’m taking time off? You’re a client, and I’ll be working while you deal with rehearsals and whatever else you have to do.” Ethan had arranged to spend time at his firm’s Los Angeles office while in town. “Somebody has to keep your ass out of trouble.”
Chipper was scheduled to perform twice on Monday and his free time over the weekend was limited. However, after the Spago’s confrontation with Nalbo and a rehearsal session, he was ready for a little relaxation. “My ass’ doing fine, it’s my brain that needs help. This shit’s not what I had in mind. I feel like my head’s about to explode.”
“I bet your ass’ doing well, what with a pretty girl and two hunky boys chasing it. So, you already told me about Bliss when we were in New York, tell me about the guys.”
“You’ll meet them Monday. I invited them to sit with you at the show.” Chipper had steered his visitor to EZ on Santa Monica when Ethan suggested cocktails before dinner. Although busier than during his previous visit on a weeknight, the bar was still quiet enough for them to talk.
“You said you met them at Coachella?”
“Yeah, they approached me after I left the stage. They wanted to take a selfie with me. Anyway, Bryce’s originally from Utah. His Mormon family freaked when he came out after high school. They planned on sending him to a retreat for conversion therapy, so he bolted. He knew someone in LA, and That’s where he went.
“Bryce’s the blond, right?”
“Yeah. Zion’s from New Mexico. Part Hispanic and part Navajo. His parents dealt with him being a homo much better. But they’re poor and he didn’t see a future for himself in Taos. He decided to head west and landed here.”
“It figures both would now live in California. It’s the land of opportunity.”
“And douchebags!” Chipper shook his head still trying to accept someone wanting to take advantage of him. “At least Zion came out here with some sort of plan. Bryce was just running away. You know how many teens end up dealing or in prostitution to survive? I mean, you see these young guys around Sunset Boulevard…”
“We have similar areas in New York too, Chipper.”
“Yeah, but did you know here they’ve been trying different things to control it? Like you’re not allowed to make right turns in certain areas at night.”
“To stop people from circling around?”
“And to stop them from driving through the side streets to get BJs in their car, or whatever.”
“I’m glad your friends escaped that fate. They were lucky. I’m kind of looking forward to meeting them.”
“You’ll like them. A little different from most of our crowd. They’re more concerned about the present than the future.”
“Hey! Life would be boring if everyone was like us. So, are you going to be okay taking the stage Monday night? Is this whole blackmail thing messing with you?”
“Shit, yeah it messed me up. After I called you Wednesday, I was a basket case. I fucked up rehearsals big time.”
“Did it get better?”
“It did. Talking with Miles that afternoon allowed me to breathe again. Meeting him and the FBI guy the next day helped even more. Of course, Friday morning I was useless. I’m not sure how I kept my shit together during lunch.”
“At least it sounds like that little sting operation worked. I’m still amazed how fast the FBI pulled it together.”
“Me too! I think that was due to Miles and Crisanto being friends. I like Miles. He seems like a standup guy. And his wife’s great. I’m looking forward to hanging out at their place on Sunday.”
“About that…” Ethan raised his hand and motioned for another round. “The two of us talked earlier, and we’d like to have a little meeting with you. Are you going to win this thing?”
“The Voice? I don’t know, man. It’s all up to the audience, and viewers voting. But I think I have a chance. Not to brag or anything, but I’m better than the rest of Adam’s team. I’m pretty sure I’ll be in the finals.”
Ethan slapped his companion’s back. “You’re bragging, dickhead.”
“Fuck you, asshole. I’m being realistic. Bliss is probably my biggest obstacle. But to be honest, I’m not sure I want to win.”
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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