CHAPTER 45
Now you’re in the world of wolves
Argh... My head was throbbing and it felt like I’d swallowed a skunk. What the hell even happened last night? I cupped the sides of my head as I sat up, realizing I was wearing a shirt that didn’t seem the last bit like the ones I owned. Slowly, and unwillingly I turned my head to see none other than Ryan sleeping next to me. Shit... Fuck.
I really don’t remember much after Connor left and me and Chris went to that stupid meet and greet. Was that tequila I tasted? Holly shit, it was. Jesus Christ why did I drink tequila? And why was I in one bed with Ryan? Don’t tell me I was too drunk to go to the suite which was next door...
I think I was about to throw up… sevenfold.
A loud bang sounded throughout the room. "Knox, open up!"
Ryan moaned as he turned to his side.
"I know you’re in there, so open the fuck up!"
"Son of a-" I heard him mumble, before he kicked the sheets away and jumped to his feet. He was wearing only boxers and I started feeling even sicker, remembering I threw those boxers across the room yesterday. He opened the door, "What?"
Jason’s eyes fixed on me as he stormed in with Jay and Pat hot on his heels. "You two have some fucking explaining to do,"
Explaining to do? I frowned, pulling my knee up, before resting my forearm on it. "Look guys, we’re happy you’ve finally managed to put your differences aside, but what the hell, guys?" Jay spoke as Ryan managed his way back to the bed, scratching the back of his head.
"What exactly are you talking about?" I squinted my eyes on Jay as Ryan went to slide open the door to the balcony, before taking a cigarette and putting between his lips.
"Google your name and see what comes up." Google my name? With a frown I took Ryan’s iPhone from the nightstand and opened the browser just to type in ‘Megan Hills’. Okay? I didn’t see nothing out of the ordinary. I looked up at them clear confusion written all over my face.
"Your other name," Jason explained. Oh, my pornstar name. Okay, dad... I searched up ‘Raven McQueen’ and holly shit... My eyes went wide. I was really a fucking porn star! How fucking cool was that? Not the slightest.
"What is it?" Ryan asked, taking the phone away from me. He had that look on his face which claimed he knew what the deal was. God damn you tequila, now there’s probably some kind of porn traveling around the web.
"Look, the picture’s decent, you can’t see shit, so I don’t get what’s the big deal..." Ryan shrugged, giving back the phone just for me to have the opportunity to keep inspecting the picture. Who knew I was this flexible?
"Can you both just stop bringing your dirty laundry to the public? Is that too much to ask?" Jason snapped, snatching a cigarette from Ryan’s pack.
"Save the fucking lecture, Jason..." Ryan took a deep drag, before walking off to the balcony. Wasn’t he cold? Like... at all? It was freezing cold outside!
"Raven, can you imagine what they’re gonna write about you? My ear is burning up from all the calls I get. They consider you the Paris Hilton of rock ‘n’ roll..." Pat explained, a concerned look on his face.
"Whoa, hold up! Paris Hilton?" Dude, anyone, but Paris Hilton!
We had to do something about this. But why the fuck was he so concerned? As far as it went for him, he was still a manager and dealing people like Paris Hilton only gave him points of credit in the showbiz.
"Since Knox burst out about your life in that gentlemen’s club combining with your extravagant taste in wardrobe and now this? Add in Devious Knox as an item himself who if I may add doesn’t have the best reputation and you come out as a—"
"Cheap whore..." I mused.
"Maybe not a cheap one, but a whore nonetheless…"
"Why can’t they just butt out of her life and enjoy the righteous riffs she’s creating? They have no right--" Ryan had returned from his little journey, pulling a pair of dark denim’s over his legs.
"No right Knox? They’re just a bunch of piranhas, sure you can sue whoever took the picture, which is... if you know who did it and judging by your face – you don’t." Jason explained, blowing out the smoke. How the fuck did this all even happen?
"So what’s the conclusion? This whole thing leads to what exactly?" I fixed my eyes on Pat, brushing my fingers through my birds’ nest of a hair.
"We’re not sure... There are two options, either the fans go batshit crazy, especially the guys or the fanbase disappears in a very quick pace." Fuck, well... weren’t we all just about taking things to the extreme, huh?
"Fuck, man... I’m so tired of being in the center of this nightmare. Why can’t they just leave me the fuck alone? Go torment Lindsay Lohan or Justin Bieber... They’re far more interesting than me." I sighed, brushing my hands over my face.
"Now that’s a lie and you know it." Ryan smirked as he put on a black v-neck t-shirt.
"So what are we gonna do now?" I looked around, hoping at least one of them had an epically brilliant plan.
"Well, there are a couple of options... We can stick with your bad reputations and spit everyone in the face; we can change your character entirely – no lingerie, no drinking, no smoking, no drugs or we can just call it off to someone’s stupid joke and incredibly well photoshop skills." Pat explained.
"Like they’re gonna believe that’s photoshopped..." I snorted.
"So then you’re going sober?" Jason questioned.
"Fuck no! I don’t give a damn about my bad reputation, if they want a show, I’ll put on a fucking show! I’ll be the next fucking Amy Winehouse... mind the drugs." Otherwise mister Devious Knox here would be thrown rocks at for seducing such a sweet girl like Megan Hills, the one who’s just gone on a sobriety trip to nutsville. Maybe because of this they stop writing shit about Bailey too. I have no problem with being the black sheep of the family. I just hoped my dad hadn’t seen the photo.
"Raven, we suggest you go against your no instagram policy and start posting also..." Pat spoke up. Now that was just plain crazy talk.
"Why the fuck should I do that?" I snapped, getting out of the bed and taking a cigarette between my lips.
"That way you’ll have more intimate connection with the fans, no pun intended. They’ll get to know the real you, instead of the crooked image the paparazzi make you seem."
"But I’m exactly what they make me seem! God-fucking-dammit..." Didn’t we just agree I’ll be the trainwreck everyone thought me to be?
"Do as you wish, but we’re just suggesting what’s best for you."
"Look, it’s all about the fans, right?" Jay asked, getting my attention, "let’s be a bit rational here... You can trash around the paparazzi, you can dis them, send them straight to hell, but you have to keep the connection with the fans and this way the good outweighs the bad, Megan."
"Arghhh! Fine! But I ain’t posting no food..."
"And you have a press conference today..." Well...The good things just keep on comin’, don’t they? What’s next on my planner, a date with fucking Justin Bieber?
________
The press conference was held in one of the conference rooms of the resort and I had showed up in my most wash-out pair of ripped denim’s I’ve ever possessed. Because of the holes in them, it seemed like I was wearing just threads of fabric. I had borrowed a wife-beater shirt from Ryan, teased my hair so it looked like I’d crawled straight from bed and had my best ‘I don’t give a damn’ attitude on as I sat there with my band and the whole group of Midnight Noir, leaned back in my chair, arms behind my head, sending most of the journalists straight to hell when they directed a question towards me. Oh and don’t forget the third Corona I was already emptying.
"The Beautiful Wasteland has recently let out their second self-titled album. Aren’t you afraid your guitarist’s reputation will ruin the potential success of the record?" Well fuck you woman in an overly expensive suit.
"Here’s the thing," Paul started, bracing his arms on the table, "We are who we are and this is rock ‘n’ roll, sweetheart. We’re all adults here and each of us take responsibility for our actions, while Raven in particular doesn’t seem like the role model for the majority of our fanbase, she is who she is and if this is too real for any of you, you obviously haven’t heard of such bands as Guns ‘n’ Roses, Papa Roach or Buckcherry. Our job is not to entertain you all with glimpses of our private life, but with the art we’re creating." God bless Paul and his right choice of words. Although he acts like a dick couple times too many, when it comes to his band, he goes knee deep in the mess we create.
"So you’re saying the fans needn’t know what their idols are after the lights go out." Another journalist implied. Well fuck you too, dude with an awesome Pantera shirt.
"Well... If we’re, as you said, their idols, then they wouldn’t have problems with what we’re doing "when the lights go out," he made an air quote, before continuing, "they would appreciate us for our music and not for the amount of liquor we pass around after the shows."
"And you’re not worried about the bad influence you’re creating. In my opinion your show should be R rated just because of the way Raven McQueen looks."
"Fuck you and your opinion," I took a mouthful, "I’ll listen to your opinion when you’ll have a bestselling CD." Look at that, he shut up. Nice.
"I have a question for Raven..." Oh god no, "When you guys aren’t touring, you, Raven, still is giving classes in the Musician’s Institute. What are you like there? Still looking and acting the same as now?"
"If you mean being a fucking badass – yeah. That runs in the family and I can’t hide it no matter how I try." I smirked in to my drink, "But on the serious note," even tho I want to kick you in the face and feed off to sharks later on, "Raven McQueen is a stage character, so obviously – no. What the hell do you take me for? Some cheap slut? And let’s set things clear, before any of you come up with any fake accusations. Yes, I have worked in a strip club and no, I’ve never been a stripper. I was a bartender. Yes – I don’t give a fuck about none of you, who I care really about are my fans and for christ sake we all are only human, we make mistakes and speaking about the photo that’s traveling around the web, the person who took it had no fucking right!"
"So you all think of a behavior as such as... acceptable?"
Paul was about to answer the question.
"Hold on, Paul," I raised my hand, stopping him from answering, "Behavior as such? Listen, lady, you don’t look twelve nor you look naive. What is behavior as such? So what, me and Knox were having sex in a public bathroom, and for those who haven’t tried it – don’t. It’s fucking uncomfortable, as for you – blondie, grow the fuck up. This is fucking rock ‘n’ roll, let’s switch places and I’ll stick a camera up your ass while your guy’s boning you, let’s see how you’ll like it. Fuck you!" I knocked the empty bottles off the table, ending up in pieces of glass all over the floor. I stood up and walked away, heading straight for Jay and Pat. "So? How did I do?"
Pat held up his thumbs, a radiant smile on his face.
"A little over the top with the ‘f’ word, but that really was perfect." Jay said, a smile pulling on his lips.