Charttoppers - 19. Cancelled

“Gurl, my social media has exploded!” Anna gestured wildly, waving the brush in her hand. “I have, like, twice as many followers than I had just two weeks ago.”

“People must’ve seen you tagged in my photos,” the singer shrugged. “You better start getting used to it. And calm down before you hit me on the head with that thing,” Samson glanced up nervously at his best friend. He was sitting in a dressing room at the Grand Oak Studios, as Anna was fixing his hair and makeup for his performance at The Vocalist, a new music talent show.

With his star on the rise, Samson was getting booked more than ever. After the success of his new album and song, everyone wanted a piece of him. Hank, who had been considering taking up new clients to expand his portfolio, suddenly found himself having no time for anyone but Samson. Even Anna found people recognizing her and adding her on social media just by association with her friend.

“I haven’t seen you this excited since you scored a date with Austin Douglas,” the singer said, trying to get his friend to spill the beans on the hot TV actor she met at the Stardust afterparty.

“Oh, we both scored,” Anna replied, a playful smirk on her face revealing she must have had a great time.

“Did you now? Bitch, I need details! Disturbingly vivid, if you please.”

“Honey, you’ve seen him shirtless on TV, I don’t need to paint you a picture of how insanely hot he is. I’m pretty sure it was the best sex I’ve ever had.”

“Wow, that’s a bold statement to make. So, he was that good? Will there be a date number two?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Anna nodded, staring dreamily into the distance. “It’s not just the sex, I had an amazing time with him. He’s so confident, but not full of himself, you know? And I think he was into me too.”

“How could he not be, darling? You’re sweet and beautiful and an amazing friend!”

“Aww, you are such a smoothtalker,” the girl cooed, gently patting the singer’s hair. “So, what about you? Are you getting used to all this newfound attention? I’m not complaining, but this is like your third TV appearance this week. You are going places, baby,” the girl said as she carefully combed Samson’s perfumed black locks. “Don’t get all big-headed on me now, ok?”

“Honey, it’s always easy to get used to something better. I have to admit, it feels good. Feels like my work is being appreciated,” Samson said, checking himself in the mirror. “And if I do ever get obnoxious, I’ll have you to bring me back to earth.”

“You can bet your ass on that. Now come on, let me finish your hair so you can go out there and slay!”

The performance of The Perfect Place was followed by thunderous applause and cheers from the audience. The four mentors of the show stood up and clapped, giving Samson a standing ovation. It was another in the line of promotional activities for his latest single, which still occupied number two spot on the charts, right behind Tyler.

“Thank you so much,” the singer smiled as he stood in the middle of the stage, surrounded by his dancers. Kimberly Cook, the show host, joined him a few moments later.

“Samson Flynn, everyone!” the young woman shouted into the microphone, proudly gesturing at the guest star. “Samson, it’s so good to have you here. Tell us, what do you think of our contestants? Any favorites?”

“Ohh, come on, darling. You know I can’t pick faves,” Samson smiled, looking at the group of hopefuls sitting nearby. “But I am so impressed by the talent you have here. I think you could all become big stars one day soon.”

“Do you have any words of advice for them?”

“Umm, I’d say the most important thing is don’t be afraid to take risks,” he replied straight away. He had already thought of the answer the previous day, knowing he would get that kind of question. “And always have people that support you and that you can trust close by. You don’t have to and you shouldn’t ever deal with anything on your own.” He sometimes wondered what his career would be like if he didn’t have Anna or Hank by his side. Would he have had the guts to stand up to Melanie Roy? He doubted it. It was his friends and family that made all the struggles worth it.

“That is definitely very true,” the host nodded in agreement. “Samson, thank you again for coming! Ladies and gentlemen, give it up one more time for Samson Flynn!”

On the way back home, the singer nestled into the back seat of the limo between Anna and Hank. While the manager leaned toward the glass as he talked on the phone, apparently having a heated argument with someone, the two friends sat further away, sipping on cold champagne.

“Oh, the new charts must be out, gimme the phone,” Samson gestured to Anna, pointing at his cell phone. He knew beating Tyler was a long shot, but with all the promotion he had been doing, he still hoped he would somehow end up getting the first number one song of his career.

“Ugh, can’t we check them later? Let’s just enjoy the drinks,” the girl replied unconvincingly, not making any effort to move. Samson eyed her curiously before getting up to reach the phone by himself. She was as interested in the charts as he was, so why was she suddenly acting so weird?

“Umm, who are you and what have you done with my friend?” he asked, frowning at her. “I wanna see if I got that number one.”

Anna glanced away guiltily as he opened the browser. It only took a few moments for the page to load and his face to fall, a mixture of shock and disappointment.

“What?” he gasped, staring at the screen. “How… how can I be number twelve?” He looked over at Anna and back at the screen, trying to understand what had happened. He was at number two for the last two weeks, so how did he suddenly drop ten places? Of course, Tyler was holding firmly to his number one spot for the third week in a row. “Have you seen this?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to ruin the day for you.”

“I don’t get it, the streams are still so good,” he muttered before scrolling down to the chart analysis, searching for his name.

‘The Perfect Place, the second single off of Samson’s new album Night Calls, falls ten places to number twelve this week. Although stable on the digital and streaming charts, the song plummeted on the radio format, going from number five to number 79 in just one week.’

His eyes went wide as he felt a pit in his stomach open. It was Melanie Roy.

“That bitch…” he whispered almost inaudibly, rereading the passage over and over again. There was no other explanation. The woman had clearly made good on her threat and ordered radio stations not to play his music. There was no way they would have just dropped him like that otherwise.

“Have you seen this?” panicking, he turned to Hank, who had just gotten off the phone. “This part right here, look. It must be that cow! What the fuck are we going to do?”

The manager skimmed the article and nodded, his forehead creasing in concern. “Yeah, that’s her handiwork. And I’m afraid she didn’t stop there.”

“What do you mean?”

“I just got a call from the producers over at Radio X500. They cancelled your interview. Apparently, there have been some ‘scheduling conflicts’ and your appearance has been postponed… indefinitely. Melanie’s pulling all the strings she can to get you cancelled.”

“I can’t believe this! What is she, the fucking president?”

“In show business, she pretty much is,” Hank said. “She knows everyone and has connections almost everywhere. And she’s filthy rich.”

“So what do we do?” Anna asked.

“I’m not going down without a fight. That hoe will be sorry she messed with me when I expose her ass!” Samson flared, his eyes burning with passion and hunger for revenge.

“Actually, I think it’s best if we just stay quiet, at least for the time being. If we say anything right now, it’ll only make it worse and she’ll come after you even harder,” Hank advised.

“So what, she can ban me on the radio and I’m supposed to just sit quietly and do nothing? Hank, I can expose her with a single tweet.”

“Sam, I know you’re mad right now,” the manager let out a sigh, “and I am too, but we don’t want to make things worse than they already are. You don’t want to post something and then have Melanie sue us for defamation. You’re on everyone’s radar now, and the last thing we want is a scandal like that. I think our best bet is to just lay low for a while until she forgets about you. She can’t keep a grudge forever. Besides, we’ll be out of the country for months now. By the time we return from the tour, this will all probably blow over,” he explained, not sounding particularly convinced in his own words.

“Let’s hope so,” Samson replied, falling back into the seat dejectedly.

“It’s gonna be fine, you’ll see,” Anna took his hand and squeezed it, trying to encourage him.

“Yeah, I’m not so sure...” he replied, mustering a weak smile. Putting on a brave face was something he was used to doing, but not in front of Anna and Hank. There was no need for that with them.

“Things will work themselves out somehow, they always do. Maybe Melanie gets hit by a bus or something,” the girl added.

The singer chuckled, squeezing her hand back. “You don’t happen to have a bus driver’s license, do you?”

Samson spent much of the drive home silent, thinking of his career. He had acted boldly and stayed true to himself, but at what cost? Now that he’s finally tasted real success, will it be snatched away from him just like that? And all because of one person who has it out for him. He had no clue what to do next, but he did know one thing - he would not grovel at Melanie Roy’s feet. Whatever she did, he would not give her that satisfaction. She may have won this battle, but the war was far from over.

~~

“Sweetie, would you help Lucy wash her hands?” Mrs Edwards called out for Tyler as she prepared roast chicken in the kitchen.

“I can help her,” Kit offered, eager to prove that he is also a big brother who can take care of his little sister. “Come on, Lucy, let’s go,” he jumped off the bed and took his sister by the hand, leading her to the bathroom.

Before Marissa was able to protest, Tyler shushed her, joining her in the kitchen. “Let him, he can handle it.”

“Well, then you can help me set the table,” she replied, handing him a stack of plates.

“Sure,” he took the dishes from her and started placing them on the simple wooden table in the dining room. “Mmm, what smells so good?”

“Roast chicken. I also made some fish and chips, cream soup, and trifle for dessert.”

Now that Tyler was bringing in a lot of money, they didn’t have to save every penny and eat cheap meatloaf every other day. It was something everyone in the household appreciated, especially the pickiest eater - Lucy.

“Say, love, I saw an advert for Samson’s concert this morning. He’s coming to London in a few months. Are you going to go?”

“Um, I don’t think so,” Tyler replied hesitantly.

“How come? You’ve always been a fan.”

“Yeah, but I don’t think he’s a fan of me.”

“What makes you say that?” Mrs Edwards suddenly stopped and turned to look at her son. “Why would he not like you?”

“Remember the Stardust Awards? We met there and he would barely talk to me. Seemed very peeved, and even said I basically ruined his night,” Tyler explained, shrugging. “I don’t know what I did wrong.”

“Well isn’t he a twit! He must be jealous.”

“Mum, you think everyone’s jealous of me,” the singer rolled his eyes.

“Of course he is, trust your mother on this one. You’re a great singer and a superstar. I bet he wishes he could sing half as well as you,” Marissa stated firmly, pointing a wooden spoon at her son.

“Yeah, that’s got to be it,” Tyler replied half-mockingly. He knew better than to try and correct his mother when she got stuck on something. The best thing to do was just shrug it off and move on.

It didn’t matter anyway. He would just keep doing his thing and Samson can do his own. Whatever the guy’s problem was, there was nothing Tyler could do about it.

It was early next morning when Florence met with Tyler. The boy had barely even woken up when his manager was calling him on the phone, letting him know she would be there in a few minutes.

Even though he was not working a nine-to-five job five days a week, Tyler was quickly starting to learn just how demanding being a singer was, and Florence was not making it any easier for him. The workaholic manager always kept his schedule busy. Even on days when he was supposed to be off, she managed to sneak in a short magazine interview, a club appearance or a photoshoot for one thing or another.

This particular morning, Tyler’s driver David was taking the singer and his manager to the O2 Arena, the most popular venue for concerts and sports events in London. The plan was to scope out the venue and meet with the management to discuss booking it for Tyler’s potential upcoming tour.

Both his manager and his record label were eager to get the singer on the road as soon as possible as the demand for his music was off the charts. Ever since he debuted earlier that year, he always had at least one song in the top ten in the UK and USA, as well as many other major music markets across the world. His debut album had already sold over a million copies, becoming the best-selling album of the year. All the signs indicated that if he were to announce a world tour, it would sell out like hot cakes. There were even mentions of him doing a stadium tour. The label was firm in its belief that the demand for Tyler was so high, he could easily fill up stadiums across the world.

The only person who was unsure was Tyler himself.

“Ohh, this is…” he muttered softly, suddenly lost for words as he stepped on the stage of the O2 Arena. He had been inside it several times, but only as a concertgoer. Standing in the crowd with thousands of other people was completely different to being on stage, looking at the vast arena before him. Its capacity was 20,000 people. That would be 20,000 pairs of eyes on him.

He stared into the distance silently, feeling a hole in his stomach. In a flashback, he was back at the Stardust Awards, escaping through the bathroom window because he was too scared to perform. He eventually came back and did it, but it was no easy feat. If he went on a world tour and had to perform at arenas, or even worse - stadiums, would he have the courage to do it? How long before he broke down and escaped for good, leaving hordes of fans waiting?

“Well, superstar, what do you think?” Florence walked up next to him, roughly putting a hand over his shoulders and patting him. “You’ll have this place filled out in no time! Teenage girls, boys, their parents, everyone eating out of your hand,” she added, making a sweeping motion with one arm in front of them.

When Tyler failed to respond, she took him by the shoulders and turned so that she was facing him.

“Hey, what’s the matter now? You’re not going to give me that scaredy cat crap again, are you? I thought we were over that by now. You’ve performed how many times now? Who knows, I stopped counting after one hundred. The point is, shake it off because you can do it! You did it at the Stardust Awards and you almost crapped your pants there. But you went on that stage and did it anyway. A true inspiration, I’m so proud of you.”

“Hmm…” Tyler frowned, not knowing how to respond. Florence had the habit of saying exactly what he wanted to hear, but was it really true? “I wish it was that easy. I’m serious here, Florence. I don’t know if I can do this again. Can’t we do smaller venues? Maybe theaters or something?”

“Theaters? You are way too big to be wasting your time and talent on theaters, ok?”

“Well, at least I won’t feel like jumping through a window every night. I’m just not sure…”

“Well, you’re going to have to be sure very soon because I have a surprise for you - I already booked the arena.”

“You… what?” Tyler blinked, at a loss for words. “When?”

“A few days ago. You’ll be performing here in five months. A big concert that will cement your status as a superstar!”

“Florence… How could you do this without telling me? I can’t believe you!”

“Tyler, you needed a push. This is for your own good, trust me. You’re braver and stronger than you know. I’m just helping you realize that,” the woman replied, ignoring his concerns. “And besides, you have five whole months to prepare for this. So, if I need to hire you a therapist to help you get through whatever fears you have, let me know so I can find you one,” she concluded, leaving no room for discussion.

The drive back home was beyond awkward, the air thick with tension. In no mood to talk to Florence, Tyler remained quiet in the back seat, pretending to be napping. It wasn’t until the driver dropped the woman off that Tyler finally opened his eyes. He glanced at David, the driver, wondering if the man could tell something was wrong.

“Busy day, huh?” the older man asked.

“Yeah,” Tyler mumbled, not sure what to say. “I’m glad it’s finally over. I just… want to go home and crawl into bed.”

As he looked at David, Tyler didn’t miss the way the driver’s eyes darted around, glancing back at the singer every now and then as if he was concerned for him. For a moment, Tyler wondered if he should strike up a conversation, but decided against it. He was simply too angry and tired to talk. Maybe some other time.

~~

Alma de Leon was the host of the biggest daytime talk show in America. Her eponymous show had been on air for over fifteen years, but its ratings had not dwindled despite its age. On the contrary, it seemed that it was only getting more popular, especially among people in their twenties and early thirties. That was exactly Samson’s demographic, so it was only natural that he was thrilled when he received the offer to appear on the beloved show. He eagerly accepted without much thought, knowing it was an excellent opportunity to promote his new album.

Now that the day had finally come, the singer found himself feeling a sensation he hadn’t felt in a while - he was nervous. Performing and doing interviews came easily to him, but appearing on the biggest talk show was something else. He didn’t want to mess anything up.

“Well, you’re awfully quiet,” Anna noticed as they walked out of the car along with Hank, heading toward the entrance to the studio where the show was being filmed.

“Oh, I’m just thinking about the show,” Samson replied, as if only then realizing Anna was next to him.

“Nervous?”

“Yeah, a bit,” he giggled. “Good nervous, though.”

It was then that he noticed a big group of people, probably about fifty of them, mostly adolescents, waiting in a fenced area outside the studio. A soon as they noticed him, they started shouting, trying to get his attention.

“Samson! We love you!”

“Can’t wait to see you on the show!”

The singer’s face lit up like a Christmas tree, and he just had to stop and wave at his fans. They had probably been standing there for hours, waiting to get inside and be in the audience when the show is filmed.

“I love you all so much! See you inside!” Samson shouted back, blowing kisses at them.

As soon as he entered the premises, the singer was welcomed and quickly escorted to a dressing room, followed by Anna and Hank. The place was busy, teeming with people. Most of them went their own way, not paying attention to Samson or anyone else. They had work to do, so they had no time to stop and admire the many celebrities that came and went on a daily basis.

Once they finally reached the dressing room, Samson went for the door, but was abruptly stopped by a tall, gangly woman. She looked apologetic, as if she was about to tell the singer she had crashed his car or ruined his favorite shirt.

“Samson, hi, my name is Vendy,” the woman extended a hand. The laminated card hanging around her neck read ‘Vendy Fleming, Executive Producer’.

“Um, hello,” the singer shook her hand, looking at her questioningly.

“I am terribly sorry to have to do this, but I’m afraid we’re going to have to reschedule your appearance.”

“What?! Are you kidding me with this?” Samson snapped, causing several people to turn their heads and stare at him.

“And you didn’t think to let us know beforehand? You waited until right before the shooting!” Hank raised his voice at the woman, serious and firm.

“I know and I apologize a million times, but I just found out about it myself,” the woman tried to apologize.

“You’re the executive producer,” Hank pointed at her card. “How did you JUST find out about it?”

“Believe me, this is highly unusual, but we’ve had some technical difficulties and…”

“Let me guess, technical difficulties named Melanie Roy?” Samson replied angrily. “Please, spare me the bullshit.”

“I assure you, we’d be more than happy to reschedule your appearance at some later date.”

“And when would that be?” Hank asked.

“Well, I can’t give you an exact date right now…”

“Of course not,” the manager cocked an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Ms Fleming, our lawyers will be in touch with you. I just hope whatever Melanie is paying you is more than what you’ll have to pay us for this.”

On the way back home, Samson found himself fuming. One moment, he was cursing and wishing for Melanie’s hair to fall out, while the next, he was silently staring through the window, murderous rage in his eyes.

“I can’t just stay quiet. My fans are going to think I stood them up. I have to say something.”

“Then tell them exactly what we were told,” Hank suggested. “That they cancelled it for technical reasons.”

Begrudgingly, the singer took out his phone and started typing out a tweet.

‘Stansons! I’m so sorry to say my appearance at @AlmadeLeon show has been cancelled for technical difficulties. Just found out today. Will make it up to you, I promise! Love u all so much! xo’

With his schedule suddenly cleared up after several of his interviews and appearances got cancelled for ‘scheduling conflicts’ and other vague reasons, Samson found himself with a lot of free time on his hands. His world tour wouldn’t begin for another week, so he decided to take some of that free time to visit his sister. Talia would always cheer him up, and after everything that had happened lately, he needed her support and comfort more than ever.

“I can’t believe you’ll be gone for five months,” the young, slim woman cozied up next to her younger brother, handing him a cup of fresh, hot coffee. Even though he tried to be all smiles, he suspected she could sense something was bothering him. “That’s so long. Have we ever been apart that long?”

“I don’t think so. Unless you count that year in high school when you shaved your hair. Because honey, whoever that person was, it looked nothing like my sister!”

“You bitch, I was experimenting!” Talia laughed, pretending to hit him over the head.

“I am gonna miss you and Tommy. And especially Jakey. I wish you could all come with me on the tour.”

“We’ll miss you too, honey. But we’ll keep in touch,” she replied. “So, other than being heartbroken for leaving us, is everything alright?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” Samson smiled, patting his sister’s arm gently. “I’m gonna go check if Jakey’s up, ok?” he added, getting up from the couch.

“Alright. Just be quiet in case he’s still asleep. I’ll go make us some sandwiches,” Talia said and went to the kitchen.

After making Samson’s favorite - turkey sandwich with lettuce and tomatoes, she brought the food back to the living room, but her brother was not there. She quietly went down the hall to her son’s room, where she found Samson standing in the doorway, quiet as a mouse. Even though there was a big, beautiful smile on his lips, his eyes were wet with tears.

“Hey,” she whispered, startling him. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing, I just…” Samson shook his head, hastily trying to dry his tears with his hands. Unable to finish the sentence, he started sobbing. All of the feelings finally catching up to him, he could no longer keep them inside; he needed to vent. As Talia approached and enveloped him in a warm hug, he squeezed her back, breaking down in her arms.

“It’s alright, sweetie,” she whispered as she gently stroked his back. “Come on, let’s go sit and you can tell me what’s going on if you want to. If not, we can just sit and watch Netflix.”

The two siblings returned to the living room and sat back on the couch. Samson stared at his hands, still sobbing. He could feel his mascara running down his cheeks; he must’ve looked so ugly. Ugly and stupid. There was not a trace of confidence in him left.

“I messed up… badly,” he stuttered, not daring to look his sister in the eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“I did something dumb and… it could ruin my career. I just… I don’t know what to do.”

As Talia held his hand comfortingly, Samson told her all about how Melanie Roy tried to blackmail and threaten him, how he rejected and insulted her, and was now paying the price. Just as he had gotten his time in the spotlight, his fifteen minutes of fame were already up.

“I really thought I was untouchable. How could I have been such a fucking idiot…,” Samson sobbed, wiping his tears. “I just wanna crawl into my bed and not go out… ever again. The worst part is, mom and dad were right. What was I thinking, believing I could have a career as a singer. Took me long enough to screw it all up,” he scoffed, before Talia suddenly pulled him by the hand.

“Hey, that’s bullshit. Mom and dad were not right and you know it. They’re just miserable because they never followed their own passions in life. Or do you think their dream was to be lawyers? But you did what you always dreamed of doing and you’re amazing at it. And this thing, with this... Melody bitch, it’s just a small setback. You’ve had plenty of those and you always get through them.”

“But this time it’s different. I just don’t know what I can do…”

“Maybe you don’t have to figure it out right now. Go on your tour and have fun. Five months away from here, it’ll be a good distraction. You’ll get to reconnect with people who adore you - your fans. You always say how the crowd at concerts feels electric and gives you energy and positivity. Well, maybe that’s what you need right now.”

“I really can’t wait to go out there and perform again,” Samson nodded, a small smile returning to his lips. “But I’m gonna miss you so much.”

“I’ll miss you too. And you know Jakey, he’s going to force me to video call you every night.”

“You better,” the singer replied, hugging his sister tightly and soaking her shirt with his tears.