How I can let so many people down, including myself, when dreams have no consequences?
“And if you still don’t believe me, if you’re still delusional enough to think you can just float through your life because no one would dare question the Dashing Nick Dashaway—tell me this: Exactly how are you going to sell your bad behavior to your twelve-year-old fans who are madly in love with you? And, more important, how are you going to sell it to the parents of those twelve-year-old girls who supply the weekly allowance that enables those girls to spend it all on Nick Dashaway crap? Huh, Nick? Tell me, how you gonna do that?”
“Um, plead temporary insanity due to an overdose of caffeine and a surplus of supermodels?” I try to crack a joke, but it fails miserably.
“You want to pretend you’re Hugh Hefner, find another fan base!”
“Who?” I squint, and even though the question was sincere, it only serves to infuriate Ezer.
He grumbles under his breath and tosses me the phone so I can get a firsthand look at my wild night, which looks way wilder in pictures than I remember it being. The only moment I can clearly grasp is how excited I felt after bowling six strikes in a row. The rest is a blur.
“Oh, and for the record, those bowlers you kicked out so you could have the place to yourself—”
I return the phone and frown. “What—you mean my fans? They were practically mobbing me. Besides, it was the manager’s call, not mine.”
“Yeah? Well, it looks like they’ve had a change of heart. Didn’t appreciate getting kicked out in the middle of their games, and they’ve taken to the Internet to vent their outrage. Some serious damage control is in order, Nick. I want you in the studio with Tinsley every day, working on a squeaky-clean Christmas love song that’ll—fingers crossed—make everyone forget about the night of Nick Gone Wild. And when you’re not in the studio, I want you lying low. No showing your face at the Starbucks drive-thru in pursuit of free coffee. No dropping into burger joints and sending Sparks away.”
“How did you know about that?” I ask. I didn’t even have my new phone at that point.
“I know everything, Nick.” His expression turns to one of extreme wariness, like all of that anger has morphed into worry.
And since I can’t stand for anyone to be disappointed in me, I do my best to convince him it wasn’t nearly as bad as he thinks. “It really wasn’t that big a deal,” I say. “Behind the pictures, it was mostly all talk. Everyone does that back in Greentree. You know, trying to look way cooler than they are.” The moment it’s out, I realize I never should’ve mentioned Greentree, but since it’s too late to take it back, I can only hope Ezer doesn’t call me on it.
“I don’t know what or where that is, but you’re already cool,” Ezer says. “Now you need to learn how to live up to the responsibility that comes with it.” Even though he’s starting to sound like my dad, like he only has my best interests at heart, he’s been yelling at me for so long it’s hard to make the transition.
“What’s the point of being an International Superstar if I can’t live my own life?”
Ezer turns to me, eyes gleaming, lips curving, as though he’s been waiting for me to ask exactly that.
“The point is to sell records and whatever else you can get your name on before the tide turns, you age out, and someone cuter, younger, and, most important, newer comes along. You want to live your own life? You can either go back to being an invisible nobody or wait until you’re washed up, which, at this rate, shouldn’t take long. You’re no indie rocker, Nick. You’re a squeaky-clean teen dream. You need to start acting like one. Now get yourself together and meet me downstairs. I’ll delete the pics from your account and deal with any immediate fallout. Tinsley’s already at the studio, waiting for you to show up.”
“Did Tinsley see the pics?” I ask, really hoping she didn’t.
But Ezer doesn’t reply, so I do as he says and head for the shower.
UNEXPLAINABLE PHENOMENON
So far, the strangest part of today is the fact that I’m still here.
Still in this life.
Still in this house.
Still getting yelled at by Ezer for being myself.
Clearly this is no dream.
Clearly I’m not slowly freezing to death back in Greentree.
I’d be long dead by now if that was the case.
Which leads me to my next theory.
I’ve seen enough documentaries with the Greentree Dougall about string theory, M theory, vibrating strings, alternate dimensions, time warps, black holes, mysterious portals, and other kinds of unexplainable phenomena to know that weird stuff just might really exist. And while I may not fully understand all of it, I’ve always found it fascinating.
Still, it’s one thing to be fascinated by a concept—it’s another to find yourself living in one of them.