Charttoppers - 12. The Big Day, pt. 2

SamsonFlynnOfficial on Twitter:

Stansons! In case you haven’t heard, my new album Night Calls is out NOW! *hyperventilates* I’ve been working so hard on it and I hope you like it. (pls stream it for good vibes, clear skin and healthy roots!) I love u all so much and I’ll see u soon on tour! xoxo

Despite all the setbacks he has been having lately, Samson was feeling quite confident ahead of the upcoming Stardust Awards. He was set to perform his next single, The Perfect Place, a dance ballad that spoke about things that made him happy - mainly, it was a dedication to his family, friends and fans. It was a song Samson wrote himself a few months ago. Even though it was originally not planned to be released as a single, he insisted on it, wanting to showcase a softer, more mature side of himself. The award show was in just a few days, and the young singer couldn’t wait to get up on that stage and perform.

Even though the show producers had told him he was relegated to being the final performer of the night, Samson insisted that he get his original slot back, which was given to Tyler. Hank called them the same day, telling them Samson was prepared to back down from the show completely unless he was given his slot back, or at least a better one. Performing at the end of the show was out of the question.

“They gave in!” Feeling elated, the manager told him the good news that day over lunch at a restaurant. “They started panicking as soon as I said you were not performing.”

“Oh, did they now?” Samson smirked, pleased with the news. “What did the bitches say?”

“They said they wanted to keep you, but… well, they couldn’t give you your old slot back, but you’ll be performing right after Tyler. That’s still a win in my books,” Hank shrugged. “What do you say?”

Samson frowned as he listened to Hank’s explanation. “Well, it’s not as good as I wanted, but good enough, I guess,” he said as he ate his Caesar salad. He had a performance in a few days, so he decided to go on a self-imposed diet. Looking his best was just as important as sounding his best. “This is the first and last time they pull a stunt like this. If I perform again next year, they better not even think about replacing me with some nobody. When did Tyler fucking Edwards become prime-time material anyway?”

“Don’t worry, we’ll make sure they don’t screw you over next year,” Hank promised.

“And they better throw some awards my way,” the singer added. “After they used my name for promo for two years in a row, it’s the least they could do to make it up to me.”

“You know those things are always rigged,” the manager said. “You don’t want to be one of those who buy their awards.”

“I would never do that,” Samson was quick to agree. “The one I got last year was nice, but… You’re right. I’d rather not win than bribe them into awarding me. Getting a trophy like that would mean nothing to me. I just want to be recognized, you know. Respected.”

“You will be, Sam. I mean it when I say this album is going to make people see you’re the real deal.”

“Aw, thank you, honey. I would never have made it without you,” Samson cooed, making the young manager blush - something he always did when he was being praised. The singer quickly changed the subject, putting Hank out of his misery. “Anyway, shall we have some dessert? I’m buying.”

“Aren’t you on a diet?”

“Oh, to hell with it. I’m in a good mood all of a sudden,” the singer shrugged, raising a hand to get the waiter’s attention.

~~

It was June 23 and Samson was a fidgety, nervous mess all day. At midnight, his second album would finally be released and the anticipation was too much for him.

He had woken up at seven that morning, unable to sleep from excitement. After breakfast, he had a long phone call with his sister, whom he invited to his album release party that night. Of course, that prompted an even longer conversation with his little nephew, in which Samson had to explain why the little kid wasn’t invited as well.

“Sweetie, this is just a boring thing for adults, you know? It won’t be fun at all,” the singer said, sounding so convincing that he surprised even himself. “But when I come to visit next week, you and I will have our own party, ok? We’ll do all the stuff you like to do, like play with your toy cars and eat pancakes.”

“You promise?” the boy asked, still sniffling after his crying fit.

“I promise,” Samson replied, fully intending on honoring the deal.

“Ok then,” the boy said, convinced that his uncle would not forget about him.

Anna arrived shortly thereafter, and the two friends spent the rest of the day shopping for new clothes and preparing for the party. Unlike the press conference that came before it, the party was a private affair at a popular nightclub ‘The Arc’. Aside from his closest associates and friends, such as Anna and Hank, Samson also invited his sister and her husband, his dancers and label staff who worked with him on the album.

Fashionably late, the singer appeared wearing tight, deep purple pants and a white shirt with tiny, pink flowers all over it. The open top buttons showed off his tanned skin and a string necklace with a black, fang-shaped pendant. All eyes were on him as he took a microphone to greet everyone.

“Good evening, boys and girls! Thank you so much for coming,” he smiled, scanning the tables in front of him with his eyeliner-framed brown eyes. “I won’t bore you with long-ass speeches, don’t worry. My new album’s out and if you’re in this room right now, that means you’ve somehow helped me create it, directly or indirectly. So, I want to thank all of you lovely people and I hope you have fun tonight! And you better buy at least ten copies, ok?!”

As the host of the evening, Samson started off the party by making rounds and greeting all of his guests. He would stop by each booth and table, and sit for a few minutes to talk to everyone before moving on to the next one.

His sister Talia and her husband Tommy were sitting together with Anna and Hank, exchanging stories about Samson. As the singer approached, he could hear his name being mentioned.

“Hey, no gossiping about me,” he said in a faux-angry voice as he slid in next to his sister.

“Yeah, right,” Anna scoffed, sipping her cocktail through a straw. “Honey, this whole night is about you and that includes sharing embarrassing stories, whether you like it or not.”

“Well, I hope no one accidentially mentions the story of when you mistook Kelly Marvel for a waitress at that party last year,” Samson teased.

“Bitch! I’d never seen her in person until then, and she’d just dyed her hair,” Anna tried to explain as if she was being interrogated in court. “Seriously, she looks so different than in her videos!”

“Doesn’t make it any less funny,” the singer shrugged, poking his best friend in the ribs, making her laugh.

After a few more minutes of chatting with his friends, Samson got up and made his way through the club to talk to some of the other guests. It wasn’t until he reached the booth where his dancers were sitting, laughing and having drinks, that he noticed someone he never expected to see.

“Marcus? Well, isn’t this a surprise,” the singer stood there with a smirk on his face. He never thought the dancer would come - mainly because he wasn’t invited, but also because it was Ash’s big day as well. Why wasn’t Marcus by his boyfriend’s side?

“I sure hope you didn’t come to sabotage the competition. Not that that’s something you’d ever think of doing,” Samson added sarcastically. It clearly hit a nerve, as the dancer frowned and moved to leave.

“I shouldn’t have come. See ya, Mikaela,” he said as he got up from his seat, nodding to his friend.

“What’s the matter? Can’t you take a joke?” the singer said, grabbing him by the arm to stop him from leaving.

“Sure you were joking,” Marcus stopped, eyeing Samson with an unamused look. He was already regretting coming to the party, but he needed not to be closed up at home anymore. He knew that if he did, he would spend the entire night just thinking about Ash and driving himself crazy.

“Well, can you blame me? And besides, I was surprised to see you.”

“I know, I was surprised I came. Mikaela invited me as her plus one.”

Samson briefly turned to look at the tall, black-haired girl. She had been his dancer for over a year, yet he had no idea she was friends with Marcus, or that they even knew each other.

“Ok, let’s say I don’t mind you being here, but you know that’s not what I meant. Isn’t… someone else also having a party of their own tonight?”

Marcus glanced at the other dancers at the table before giving Samson a knowing look. It was enough for the singer to realize something had happened.

“Oh… Um, let’s go to the bar, you can buy me a fancy drink with an umbrella.”

“Aren’t you the host? And there’s an open bar,” Marcus grunted.

“Yeah, yeah, details,” Samson shrugged as he led the dancer to the other side of the room, where they could sit away from others and talk without being overheard.

“Look, um, can I apologize first, just to get it out of the way?” the dancer said, looking uncomfortable. He was dressed immaculately, but his face looked as if he hadn’t slept or shaved in a week. “You know, for accusing you of trying to steal Ash. That was rotten of me and I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted,” Samson smiled, trying not to gloat. He was a firm believer in karma and loved it when people who did him wrong came crawling back to apologize. “But why do I have a feeling that’s not the only reason you came?”

Marcus sighed. “Yeah, I should be celebrating with my boyfriend, right? Well, wrong.”

“Did you guys have a fight?” the singer asked, making sure to keep his voice quiet. Even though people close to Ash knew his secret, no one else did, and Samson certainly didn’t want to be the one to out him.

“We broke up,” Marcus replied, the hurt and sadness in his eyes all too obvious. It was clear the guy was in love with Ash.

“What happened? I mean, if you wanna talk about it.”

“What I always knew would happen, but never wanted to admit. His job, that’s what happened. He’s never gonna come out… At least not for me,” Marcus said, his voice quiet and sad. “I’m just not enough, I guess… And now he’s got a fake girlfriend too.”

“Kelly… I’ve seen the articles. I’m really sorry,” Samson nodded, offering his most sympathetic look. Even though Marcus could be a big pain in the ass, Samson didn’t really hate him. He didn’t know him well enough for that. And besides, being bitchy divas was something they had in common.

“Thanks,” the dancer offered a half-hearted smile. “I just don’t get it. It seems to be working out well for you, right? Being out, I mean. But Ash is not allowed to. That fucking contract… I wish he would just leave that label, even if he had to go indie.”

“Honey, I came out because I sort of didn’t really have a choice,” Samson chuckled, but there was no humor in his voice. “I mean, do you really think I could pass as straight? I came out because it was already clear as day to anyone with eyes and two brain cells between their ears. But if you think it didn’t affect my career, you’re sadly mistaken. Sure, I’m doing alright for a B-lister, but not nearly as well as someone like Ash or Kelly. Do you have any idea how many doors were closed to me because of my sexuality? Cancelled sponsorship deals with companies, banned concerts in some… less open-minded countries, shady interviews with homophobic reporters, the list goes on. Of course, that doesn’t mean coming out wasn’t worth it. I am free to do what I want, and if someone doesn’t like it, well, tough luck. I wouldn’t have it any other way, but I used to spend a lot of time thinking whether my career would’ve been bigger if people thought I was straight. It took me a long time to accept things as they are.”

“I had no idea,” Marcus muttered. “I always thought you were one of those annoying people who have it all.”

“And now you see I don’t have it all. I’m just annoying,” Samson smirked. “I do feel for you… and for Ash. He’s stuck in a terrible spot and I hope he gets out of it. I’ve been lucky I never had to deal with Cliff Sanders, but I’ve heard a lot of shit about him. Ash doesn’t deserve to have to put up with him.”

The two men sat in silence for a while, drinking their margaritas and listening to Samson’s new album blaring from the speakers while Marcus pondered his words. They helped him put things into perspective, but he still had no idea what to do. As much as he wanted to get over Ash, he wasn’t sure if he was ready to give up on him yet.

“Hey, thanks for listening. I really needed to get out or I would’ve gone insane,” Marcus finally spoke, scratching his chin. He would definitely have to shave one of these days. “I guess Mikaela was right, you’re not all bad.”

“Such praise! Honey, stop, my head’s already too big,” Samson rolled his eyes and giggled in amusement.

“Don’t worry, you won’t hear it again from me,” the dancer replied, and as he did, he smiled for the first time that evening.

~~

It was still hard for Tyler to realize just how much his life was changing. As he laid in his bed, looking at the terrarium with his two pet lizards, he thought about the party from two nights ago and what it actually meant. He just released his very own first album! It seemed like a dream, and half the time he wasn’t sure if he was actually awake or not.

Not even half a year ago he was still just another small guy with a big voice and even bigger dreams. Even though he was recording music and working on his debut record, it all still seemed uncertain, like something that could go up in a puff of smoke, but now it was all suddenly so very real. His album was out there for everyone to hear and there was no turning back. He had officially become a professional singer, and not only that - he was a big celebrity.

Tomorrow, he will start his promotional tour in the USA, starting with Stardust Awards in Los Angeles. It was the biggest music event in the world, but he barely had time to mentally prepare himself. After years of watching the show from the comfort and safety of his bed, he would now have to appear on stage and perform live. Just thinking about it caused a feeling of dread in his stomach. He was confident in his voice and the quality of the song - after all, it was number one in over thirty countries. But could he actually get the courage to get up there and sing? He didn’t even have time to think about it, as quick footsteps down the hall jolted him out of his thoughts. Suddenly, there were two loud knocks on the door, followed by his little brother Kit bursting into the room and rushing over to Tyler’s bed.

“Ty, get up! Mum’s made eggs and sausages for breakfast,” the kid shouted excitedly, as if they were going to Disneyland. Tyler smiled and took his brother’s hand as Kit pulled him out of bed. He knew why the little guy was so excited and how could he blame him? That afternoon, the entire family was taking a flight to Los Angeles to stay there with Tyler for a whole week as he did his promo tour. Since he had never been outside of England, little Kit was over the moon, telling anyone who would listen how he was going to America.

“Are you excited to fly on a plane today?” Tyler asked as he was being dragged to the kitchen, still in his pajamas.

“Yes! Will we get movies on the plane? And snacks?” Kit asked. If there was anything about planes he learned from watching TV it was that people always get to watch movies and eat unhealthy food on flights.

“You bet, buddy,” Tyler nodded as they entered the kitchen.

“Kit, did you just go and wake Tyler up? I told you not to do that!” Mrd Edwards turned around and glared at the boy.

“It’s ok, mum, I was already awake. What are we having for breakfast?”

“Scrambled eggs, bacon and sausages. Toast is already on the table,” Marissa replied, standing by the stove and flipping the sausages.

Mr Edwards was the next to enter the room along with the youngest kid, the four-year-old Lucy. Unlike Kit, who would eat anything at any time of day, the Edwards daughter was very picky with her food and would often cry when she had to eat meat - unless it was hot dogs. She preferred pies and all kinds of pastries, especially if they were filled with cheese or jam.

“Sorry, young lady, but we have no time for a fancy breakfast today,” Marissa said sternly as she served the food to her family. “We’ve got to finish packing and be on our way. Unless you want us to leave you here alone?”

“NO!” Lucy immediately sat up straight as her father chopped her food to small bits. “I want to go too!”

“Then you have to eat. Come on, open up,” Eric said and started feeding her. “How are you feeling, superstar? Ready to conquer the world?”

“Dad, don’t overreact. It’s just a few appearances. Not like I’m the next… um, who would be the male Madonna?”

“How about a young, blond, British lad by the name of Tyler?” Marissa jumped in, squeezing her son’s shoulder.

“Ugh, you two are obnoxious,” Tyler shook his head, but couldn’t help the smile that crept upon his face. His parents certainly had a lot of confidence in him, and as much as it could be embarrassing, it was mostly just really sweet. He was grateful to have their support.

It was only a few hours later that the entire Edwards family found themselves in the back of a limo, taking them to the Heathrow Airport from which they were to catch the afternoon flight to Los Angeles. The Stardust Awards were tomorrow night, and everyone was excited to attend the show, mingle with celebrities and see their own Tyler perform. Everyone, that is, except Tyler himself.

He spent most of the drive quiet, pretending to play games on his phone, when he was actually worrying about all the ways the performance could go wrong. What if he suddenly gets a cold? Or forgets his lyrics? What if he has to go pee in the middle of the performance? The possibilities for everything ending in a disaster were endless.

The young singer would have probably spent the rest of the trip getting worked up had his phone not buzzed with a new message which caused his face to light up like a Christmas tree. It was a text from Stacy.

“I saw the video, u were amazing. Good luck on Sunday, I’ll be watching!”

Grinning like a lovesick teenager, which he wasn’t too far off, Tyler wasted no time in replying.

“Thanks! I’m so glad you liked it. Wish you could come with us. <3”

As he pressed ‘send’, the realization suddenly hit him. Why couldn’t she come to the award show too? He had all this money now, buying one extra ticket was nothing.

“Hey, would you like to come to USA? I’ll buy you a ticket. Pls say yes.”

He typed as quickly as he could, hoping she would agree.

“Are u serious? :O What about your label?”

“Idk we’ll deal with that later. Pls come, for me! We’ll have such a good time! You have a few days off, right?”

“I guess… If ur sure. I don’t want u to get in trouble.”

“You won’t! Yay!!! I’ll send you the details soon! xx”

His mood visibly improved, Tyler waved in front of his manager’s face, trying to get her attention.

“Hey, can you check if there are any seats available on our flight?” he asked Florence, who was sitting opposite him.

“Huh? Why?” the woman asked, frowning suspiciously, as she held her phone in one hand and her e-cigarette in the other.

“Um, I know it’s last minute, but I was thinking of inviting Stacy to come with us,” he replied, biting his lower lip. He didn’t need his girlfriend to read his horoscope to know how Florence would react.

“You cannot possibly be serious,” the manager rolled her eyes, struggling not to lash out at Tyler in front of his family. “The plane leaves in less than two hours. Have you not heard of planning in advance? For goodness’ sake, I schedule my haircuts two months in advance!”

“Really? I always assumed you wore a wig…” Tyler shrugged his shoulders as he eyed the woman’s unnaturally perfect bob.

“Anyway,” the woman took a deep breath to compose herself, “it is such a short notice, there’s no point in trying.”

“Are you sure there’s no way-” Marissa started to ask, glancing between Florence and her son. “What about tomorrow’s flights?”

“There are three seats left on tomorrow’s flight. First class though,” Tyler exclaimed, looking at the schedule on his phone. “I bet we can snag one of them if we hurry up.”

“Alright, alright, I’m on it,” Florence rolled her eyes as she tapped on her phone, opening the airline’s website. “We’ll have to send a driver to pick her up at the airport when she lands in LA. Great, just another thing to add to the list,” she muttered in the end.

“Awesome, I’ll let her know,” Tyler replied, choosing to ignore her last remark.

“And remember what we talked about,” Florence warned him. “Once we’re out there-”

“I know, I know, no PDA,” the singer repeated what he heard at least a hundred times in the last month. After the enormous success of his first single, the record label had great expectations for Tyler’s album. However, they were very strict with the kind of image they wanted Tyler to have, from what he would wear at appearances to how he would answer questions at interviews. It all had to fit in with the ‘Tyler brand’ they wanted to promote. His manager Florence was always there to guide him in the right direction - or at least what she and the label thought was right.

“Just making sure we’re on the same page,” the manager nodded, eyeing him with a look that told him she is not to be messed with.

“What’s PDA?” Lucy suddenly asked, lifting her head from the phone for just a moment.

“Nothing, darling, just some… singer stuff. Something Tyler has to practice for his performances,” Marissa jumped in, smiling at her youngest child. Chuckling, Tyler scooted over to kiss his little sister on the head.

“We still have a lot to cover, superstar in the making,” Florence continued, ignoring the family discussion happening in front of her. “Tomorrow’s the big day, of course. The most important one! We’ll get you all nice and pretty for the red carpet. You can watch the show opening with your family, and then we’ll go backstage so you can prepare for the performance. Have you thought about any special requests for your dressing room? They’ll give you pretty much anything - gaming systems, champagne, caviar, a dozen puppies to play with, you name it. Whatever it takes to make you happy and satisfied. We wanna pull out all the stops and make sure you’re the talk of the night. Anyone who’s anybody will be there and we can’t let them steal the spotlight. We gotta show them us Brits can put on a show too. But I don’t have any doubts about you, I know you’ll rock their socks off,” the woman blabbed on, her loud voice grating on the ears.

“Yeah, no pressure,” Tyler mumbled, looking out the window as he felt his throat drying up. Once again, he started to wonder if he had bitten off more than he could chew.

Not even noticing his uneasy look, Florence unlocked her phone and sent a message to David, the driver who was part of their entourage.

“I have a special task for you tomorrow, you’ll get a fat bonus for it. Say a word to anyone, and you lose your job.”