“I-,”
“You’re a coward, Julian! And you’re afraid of what love could bring so you became ruthless when it came to breaking hearts and Amber was just another victim in your game,” the venom in her voice was so evident that it made me shiver in fear, “and if something happens to Amber, I swear to God, I will find some way to avenge her from the heartbreak that you cause.”
The guy that had restrained her came in between us and pushed her slightly back, looking at her with a concerned gaze and then he turned back to look at me. The unmistakeable flash of disgust in his eyes were clear but he kept his cool, compared to the girl. “I think it’s best if you leave, Julian.”
“Look, I’m not here to start something. I just really want to know if she’s okay-,” I could feel my own annoyance flaring up as well and slowly simmering into anger. I knew I made a mistake but I am not the heartless monster this woman was making me seem.
“You don’t have the right,” her voice was ice cold and I could feel the pinpricks of each syllable on my skin as she looked at me, her gaze harsh, “remember that you broke her, Julian Hudson. Remember that because of that, I will hate you until my last breath, even in my next lifetime.”
At that moment, I felt José pulling me away but I felt transfixed in my spot, staring at her and unable to comprehend the amount of anger she had towards me, the animosity. Shaking José’s hands off of me, I looked at Audrey straight in the eye, boiling with the same rage that matched hers. I had such a bad day, with another rejection and this news about Amber, and now she literally wanted to cap my day with this crap.
“And I hope that you will also remember everything you just said to me and pray that there will never come a day that you’ll need me.”
1
Julian
5 Years Later
My head was throbbing when I woke up and the ray of sun in the room only made it even worse when I opened my eyes. I groaned, finding the remote for the blinds in my room to shut them so I could go back to sleep peacefully blanketed by the dark but I couldn’t find it. And then I heard someone clear his throat and I sat up quickly, the pillows falling off the bed as I sat upright and my manager came into view.
Pete didn’t look happy. Pete never looked happy since he had been managing us for the past three years. But then again, it was understandable since we never really followed what he instructed us. Born from Ashes may be a popular band worldwide but just like other bands, it was hard to reign us in and make us follow what our label wanted us to since we all followed what we wanted to. Maybe it was part of being an artist.
“Julian,” Pete’s voice was icy cold and I could hear the irritation that seeped through it as I smiled at him sheepishly, “as I remember, you have a scheduled meeting with Mr. Wayland and Miss Ross at the WR Records Company at 11. It’s currently 10:30, you haven’t eaten breakfast or taken a bath and obviously suffer a massive hangover at the moment.”
He was trying to sound patient but failing miserably at it. His early morning annoyance towards me only triggered my own annoyance as I grabbed a pillow and chucked it at him. “Do me a favour and fuck off, please.”
When I opened my eyes, he had caught the pillow and was staring at me expressionless. “You’re not a fucking child, Julian. You’re a full-grown adult with responsibilities. Get your ass off of that bed and head to Wayland and Ross. They have something important to discuss with you. You have thirty minutes left. I’d appreciate it if you won’t come late.”
He threw a tiny medicine at me that was meant to relieve my headache but I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. He sounded like Milo, my oldest brother, every time he woke me up for school when I was still in middle school. Milo had taken on the mantle of being the father-figure for his three younger brothers.
I swallowed the pill and then headed straight to shower to wake myself up with cold water. In ten minutes, I was out of the shower, dressed, but my hangover had barely subsided. I called around the house for my other bandmates but the house was deserted and I couldn’t find a single sole. It was odd, as we all lived here together and surely if it was a meeting with W&R Records Company, they would be there. Just then, my phone buzzed in my pocket with a text from Pete telling me to get my sorry ass to the company, asap.
I made a face. I hated being nagged at and our manager nagged me just as much as my brother, Everett, did. With another last attempt of looking for at least one bandmate in the house to give me a ride, I finally decided to drive my own car to the records company despite the throbbing pain in my head and how the sunlight made me dizzy. The location wasn’t too far from the apartment we lived in which was in downtown LA but still, I didn’t exactly arrive on time for the meeting. I decided to stop by Starbucks to get some coffee but the drive-thru held me up for a couple of pictures, to which I happily obliged. I was ten minutes late to the company. And honestly, I just wanted to annoy Pete for not waiting up for me at home, even when he knew I had a hangover.
But much to my dismay, it took them another ten to finally arrive at the conference room where I had been waiting for them.
“Mr. Hudson, it’s nice to see that you’re on time for once,” Wayland greeted me as soon as he stepped foot in the conference room. I had been spinning myself on the chair for the past five minutes, waiting for them. I stood up, gave him a handshake. I wasn’t the biggest fan of our bosses but my mother raised me to be polite, even if it meant being polite to people who didn’t deserve it.
Five years ago, the band and I were at our wit’s end. We’d sent demos to various labels, hoping that we would get picked up to sign a record deal with one of them but we were always considered too mainstream. Even the songs that I’d written were mainstream for everyone. We weren’t ‘bankable’ enough, as they all had said. Although…
Once, there had been a label that wanted to sign me. Just me. Not the rest of the band. They wanted me to sign as a solo artist with them, and they told me that I would rise to fame given my looks and voice. But I rejected them. My dream was for the band to shoot to fame, not just me although admittedly, it was flattering and I almost wanted to say yes.
At our wit’s end and with no longer anything left to lose, we used YouTube as our platform until Pete Conwell found our channel and signed us up with W&R Records Company for a five-year contract. And the rest is history. We skyrocketed to fame, doing tours and concerts and having fans all over the world. It was insane, the height of fame that this company brought us which was why despite the fact that I wasn’t a fan of them, I was still grateful.
“Thought I’d surprise you guys for once,” I replied casually, sinking back into my seat, “although I’m surprised that I’m the first one here. The boys weren’t in the house when I woke up and I thought they beat me here already.”
Wayland and Ross glanced at each other as they took their respective seats cross from me. Ross cleared his throat and then brought his hands together on the table. He was a man nearing his sixties, short and stout with his hair almost disappearing and his beady eyes always reminded me of a pigeon.