Chapter 3

As soon as we landed in NYC, I was bombarded by press and fans. My last album, which was self-titled and topped the US and UK charts for five weeks, featured songs about happiness and living free and finding love. It’s wild to me how different from my life those subjects are, but the songs are radio friendly so my fans’ ages range from young to old. All of the fans that clamor around me don’t realize that I love their support but hate their enthusiasm.

There are memories with fans that stand out though, and the next few minutes were going to be one of those.

Being around fans, I couldn’t smoke beforehand, so I snorted a quick bump before I got off the plane. With the new burst of energy, I put on a bright smile and made my way out of the terminal, signing a few autographs and even giving a few hugs to people. Gotta keep up the image. My bodyguard escorted me to my car but a little girl with black hair and pigtails broke through the security line. I heard her mother calling her, but she ran up to me and threw her arms around my legs. Security let her mom come through, but I put my hand up for her to stop.

“It’s okay,” I smiled and knelt down. “What’s your name?” She looked at me, her dark eyes twinkling with idolization. I felt guilty for being high.

“Izzy!” She yelled. “I’m 8! I’m going to be a singer like you someday.” She hugged me again. Izzy’s mom grabbed her hand and apologized. I ignored the cynicism I felt toward fame and hugged Izzy back.

“Izzy, someday you will be a bigger superstar than I am,” I poked her nose. “My daughters are about your age and they’d get along great with you. Maybe you guys will be friends someday.” I said goodbye to Izzy and her mother then got into the car.

As soon as the door shut, I felt my eyes welling up with tears. I put my face in my hands and let them fall, missing my babies and trying to remember I’m doing this all for them.

These are the memories that stay with you.

But I’m still changing my demographic. My younger fans make me sad.