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“Hey!” Mickey shouted. “I am talking to you. Show some respect, asshole.” Arsen looked at him calmly but underneath he seemed anything but.
“Mickey. This is not about you. So shut. The hell. Up!” Arsen wagged his finger at Mickey.
“See this fucking guy? That’s why I can’t work with him anymore.” Mickey turned to the other guys and complained. He seemed like someone who always wanted to be the center of attention, even in a serious situation like this.
“Then don’t? I’d like to see you find someone else who will put up with your bullshit,” Arsen snorted sarcastically.
“Oh yeah! I will. Don’t you worry about that. I am the soul of this band and there is no Insurrection without Mickey Nicks.” He looked at Lizzy for an approval of his statement, but she was too intimidated by this confrontation to say anything. For Rory, however, this was thoroughly entertaining.
“Say Mickey, how is the weather up there in delusion land?” Arsen said with a huge grin on his face. It even made Rory snort and Mickey noticed.
“That’s it. I am taking you down.” Mickey took off his sunglasses and rushed toward Arsen. Rory could tell that the tension between these men wasn’t just born right at that moment. It had simmered for far too long, waiting to boil over. The other two guys rushed to hold back Mickey. Arsen was already on his feet, ready to launch a punch.
Rory imagined how badly his ankle must be hurting right in that moment as he got up, but he didn’t show any sign of it on his face. Like a wounded tiger, he stood there, ready to take on the fight. You gotta admire a man for that.
“Fellas! What is going on here? I can’t be away for one second without y’all getting into some trouble?” A short, fat, balding man with an air of authority entered the room.
Arsen was fuming inside. He was a second away from knocking out Mickey, and deep inside he felt that it was high time he did so.
He was sick of Mickey’s extravagant ways. He was sick of dealing with an unprofessional hack. Whatever happened to the guy who lived and breathed music?
Don’s presence calmed him down. At least now he knew that everything would be taken care of, and soon he would be back to his regular life. The life that I’m trying to run away from?
The accident last night had shaken him. He didn’t remember when he had passed out, but he had nightmares all night long. Every little sound in that old house woke him up from his slumber. It didn’t help that the girl who lived in the house came down to keep watch on him at least three times last night. Who does she think I am? A thief?
The girl’s smug attitude and her self-righteous way annoyed him. Her glances made him feel as if she were constantly judging him. Even right now she is sitting there self-satisfied, perhaps laughing inside at how dumb these rockstars look.
Shame that someone with such a pretty face has such a shitty attitude, he thought.
The moment she walked in this morning, he had realized that she was even prettier than she appeared in the dark of the night. He loved her shiny, long, auburn hair and the fact that she wasn’t skinny beyond belief. Real women were curvy, he always believed, and back home in LA, they rarely were.
The other girl had been terribly sweet to him, but she was too chirpy, too bubbly, and way too completely in awe of the fact that he was a celebrity. Arsen knew tons of girls like that. Nonetheless, he was thankful to her for all that she had done for him.
The other one, Rory, is so damn serious. But haven’t I had enough of party girls already? he pondered. He was intrigued if there was more to her than met the eye. Why is she living all by herself in this enormous house? What is behind that hidden glimpse of melancholy in her eyes? Behind that overbearing tone of worry in her voice?
“Hey kid, are you all right? What’s going on here?” Don came and sat right next to him on the couch and asked in his usual tone of fatherly concern. Arsen paused to reflect on his thoughts before he spoke.
“Just a little accident.” Arsen paused as he heard a scoffing sound from Rory’s direction. What’s her deal? he wondered. Sarcastic beyond belief and constantly mocking. “I crashed the Ferrari into the back wall out there and damaged my ankle a little.” Another scoffing sound from Rory.
Arsen looked up and stared at her. She stared back, something she’d been doing all along, as if they were in a staring match. “Perhaps Rory here can do a better job of explaining the events than me.” He smirked back at her.
“Hello there, Rory. I’m Don. I assume you’re the owner of this house?”
“Yes.”
“I am sorry about the accident, sweetheart. These things happen, but I do promise you I will have it fixed for you tout suite.” Rory nodded at Don’s reassurance. No scoffing sounds this time; those are reserved only for me, Arsen thought.
“I am sure Arsen is sorry for all this. So am I. We shouldn’t be disrupting your life like this.” Don made the apologetic face that he was so good at making. One of the reasons why he was the best in the business. He always adapted to the situation instantly and made himself appear whatever he needed to be.
“Thank you so much for taking care of my boy here. Y’know how boys are. They can get rowdy sometimes.” Don spoke in a matter-of-fact tone and Rory nodded in agreement. Arsen knew that Don could sense some hostility between him and Rory, and he was irked at the stupid picture Don was painting of him. But what do I care what she thinks of me? I’m never going to see her again.
“Thanks, Don. That really paints me in a favorable light,” he couldn’t help but mutter. Hell would freeze over before he’d have himself called silly in front of that proud girl. Don gave him a stern look as if to say, “Shut up and let me handle this.” Arsen merely shrugged.
“Are we fucking done here? Don, you said we were just coming to pick up Arsen and then we’d be off. I left the hot tub running back at the villa,” Mickey whined.
Always the selfish one. I knew you didn’t come on your own, you jackass. Don made you come here. Don was desperate to patch things up between his two superstars but so far, he’d failed miserably.
“Take it easy, Mickey. Why don’t you go outside in the garden and let me handle this,” Don said in his authoritative tone.
