Rock StarA Story by Michael MaverickBeginning of my novel-in-process. It will be about a son of a rock star, who lives celebrity life. He doesn't study, doesn't work and soon his father is sick of it. His father soon is sick of it.Episode 1 **** The birthday party was awesome as always. There were naked chicks, a lot of drink and loads of drugs. Cocaine, methamphetamine, weed, acid, whatever. What else do you need for a great party? It took place in my house. As all the quests had parked their Mercedeses and Porsches near the fountain, the party began. Not a usual fountain, but a statue of me puking with water - my dad's birthday joke. At first I was confused, but then it started making me feel different. King like. God like. After my friends came inside, they grabbed me upstairs, saying: "Are you ready for a surprise?" After walking two dozens of stairs, pulled by two guys, I couldn't take a single breathe when I saw her. "Holy s**t..." She was lying on my bed in lacy underwear, smoking hot. One hand up, the other on her hip. Oh, that look, that waistline, those legs... A dream-girl, right in front of me. I asked: "Is that?.. Is that Megan Fox?" They nodded. I was about to faint, walking into the room. As the door was closed, she invited me with a finger, slightly smiling: "Are you coming or what?" The only way I could look away from here long thin legs was to look into her amazing bluish eyes. "Hell, yeah, I'm coming." **** Though it wasn't as cozy to sit on a marble stair as it could be on a bench, I was enjoying my first smoke and beer that day, my back to the front-door. All you could see from that position were the lake Ontario, gleaming under the morning sun, and a dozen of luxury cars parked around the puking statue. Silence, accompanied by the sound of water in the fountain was making me the most peaceful person in the whole world. I drew the poisonous tobacco smoke and gave a pleased look at the wavering lake surface. Slight wind coming from above the deep, dark water was making the temperature cooler, despite the heat of the June sun. As I wrapped up my chest with the bathrobe on me, I thought about Megan. About last night. What a woman... I couldn't even dream about sleeping with her ever. Not in this life, at least. I drew from the cigarette again and sipped some Bud from the bottle. Wait a second. I am nineteen, and my father's wax statue is standing in Rock-n-Roll Hall Of Fame, right near Angus Young's one, so that's what I'm really supposed to do - sleep with the most beautiful girls in North America! For some reasons, the only things I used my status and money for were cars, guitars and prostitutes. I should have fucked Megan long time ago. The front-door opened. "Well, the next target is Scarlett Johansson." I recognised Zack's voice from behind. "Yay!" I smiled to him. His face was practically shining from happiness, as he sat down on the same stair and asked: "So, how was she?" "Dude..." I breathed out. "I couldn't even dream about such present! That is the best one in my entire life." Still shining, he answered: "Good for you, man. Elliot wanted to get you a new Gibson, but I thought, it would be much better to present you with the most pleasant thing - sex." "I love you, guys." Zack drank from his bottle, he had brought with him, and continued: "We hesitated between Emma Stone and AnnaSofia Robb, but Robb wouldn't agree, she is too young, and Elliot then said it would be great to invite Megan Fox and we stopped on here." "AnnaSofia Robb? Damn, she is awesome." "Yeah... But you'll have your chances in several years, I guess." he said in a cheery voice. I answered thoughtfully: "Yet, that would be amazing." still thinking of Megan. I gave a pleased look at the lake surface. Again. Sparkling water was beckoning me to come closer, to touch it, to dive in it. I imagined how great it would be to feel its cold on your face, on your back, abdomen. Before I could analyze my actions, I have walked ten stairs down to the fountain. "Where are you going?" I waved Zack to follow me. When the statue closed the sun above me, I let my hands swim in the crystal clear water. Its cold spread all over my face, as I washed it in the liquid. Right after the white bathrobe faced the sand-colored floor, I heard Zack: "Are you feeling alright?" I squinted at him very attentively. As I was standing in my underpants, looking into his bright brown eyes, I wondered, has he ever done anything crazy? After a several-second silence, sparkling drops severed the cool fresh air and hit Zack's face. It wrinkled and was immediately wiped with a free palm. "Oh, you wanna play?" I repeated the procedure, giggling. Zack poured pretty big amount on me and I winced, as it felt really cold on my bare skin. In a second we turn into kids. Like we are twelve and dabbling in a crystal-clear puke of the statue was too much fun to avoid. Huge amounts of water spread all over the air and the parking lot. Hundreds of drops are facing both of us, as well as some cars, standing nearby. Suddenly, I feel as happy as never before in my life. Only at that moment of spontaneous splashing I understand, it's a great luck to have a chance to splatter some water from your own fountain, at your own three-storied house, with all those Corvettes and Aston Martins parked nearby. And I feel like a king. A king, which is being lifted by an athletic-built friend and about to face the pool. Splash. My body feeling the pleasant cool of the crystal-clear puke. When my face came up to the surface, I realized, I was still holding the wet, falling apart cigarette in my teeth. I spit it away and burst out laughing, so did Zack. "Satisfied?" he asks, touching his wet shirt, stuck to his skin. He was laughing so genuinely I've never seen him before. In a minute, I was still in the fountain, smoking another cigarette. We finished laughing and fell silent. I felt pleased to sit in a waving water, shoulder to shoulder with my best friend after having a blast. I go: "Hey, where is Megan? Is she still in bed?" "Let's go find out. I need to change my clothes anyway."
© 2013 Michael MaverickAuthor's Note
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