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A Rock Star Christmas Carol

Chapter 2: Ten Years Present

Christmas Eve

Ten Years Present:

“Liam? Have the girls made it to their destination for the video shoot?” Louis asked, his lips pursed with annoyance and his cold eyes focused on the pad of paper in front of him.

There was a long pause at the other end; which meant Liam had taken his ear away from the cellphone.

That meant no and no meant hit the decks in Liam’s experience; hence his quick reflex after the initial question.

“LIAM! WHY AREN’T MY GIRLS AT THE VIDEO SHOOT?! I PAY YOUR BUTT TO GET WORK DONE, NOT GIVE ME EXCUSES!” Louis exploded, making the young lad in the chair in front of him jump up and run towards the exit like his pants were on fire.

Louis hit a locking mechanism on his desk to lock the office door; thus, stopping the potential money making singer from running to freedom.

“Kid? Sit down, I was yelling at my assistant, not you, but that will quickly change if you don’t get the bloody hell back here.” Louis gritted, turning his agitation to his cell phone. “Liam?” He called, hearing no indication that his assistant was going to say anything.

“Liam? You have two failed marriages and alimony support out the ying-yang, mate. Now, I can garnish your wages by two hundred pounds a week for the next year and make your life a living hell fire or you can GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF YUR ARSE! I pay fairly, yes? In return I expect a competent assistant, not a skiver. Now, why aren’t they there? I gave specific instru – “Louis’s rant was cut short by Liam speaking from the other end.

“Ms. Amherst had an emergency, sir. Her sitter canc – “Liam tried to excuse, but Louis didn’t buy excuses. He gave them.

“Tell Allure that she is the bread and butter of One3One and if she insists on being late, I will sue her for the advancements I gave in order for her to pay for her brat’s medical bills. If she wants to be a singer, wonderful. If she doesn’t, then she can go to the local bloody church and let them give her a handout. I deal with talents, not street trash.” Louis quipped harshly, eyeing the young sixteen-year-old boy that was sitting back in front of him looking nervous.

“I – I can’t tell her that, Lou.” Liam murmured sympathetically, knowing the medical bills were piling on faster than Allure was making – even with Louis’s contractual pay.

Louis scoffed.

“Of course you can’t. So, allow me to finish my business here and I will be down to the location as soon as possible to tell her myself.” He concluded.

“Louis – “Liam started but never got the chance as he pressed the call end button, directing a faux smile to his next victim – Jamie Trenton.

“I’ve seen your performances, Jamie. I know what sells and what goes out with the rubbish next season and you have a very prominent future ahead of you – at least for a time. Your blonde hair and blue eyes with that feminine touch will draw the ladies to you like flies. Keeping your hooks in them is quite a challenge after, because let’s face it; weaker minded sub-humans have very low attention spans. How you keep your adoring party is your responsibility.” Louis gestured about carelessly, pouring himself an amber drink into a black coffee mug.

Jamie swallowed nervously.

“How much do I get for each consignment? Each unit sold is profited by every item. So if say, three million worth of music alone is downloaded or one CD per distribution is purchased, what would be my earnings of that three million?” Jamie asked, his high voice breaking out in different tones as he asked.

Louis’s smile grew wider still, he looked absolutely manic.

“A lad after my own heart. You know your business acquaintances for sure,” Louis said, rubbed his temple and downed the rich and bitter amber liquid. “To answer your query, mate; if you tallied in three million pounds, your signed contract to Syco Entertainment would be ten percent of each unit plus whatever revenue you brought in from shows and concerts. If you did a yearlong tour and each stadium sold seventy-five to a hundred percent, given the size – you could be profiting three hundred thousand pounds from the music and because the revenue is slightly higher for shows – five million pounds, possibly more with merchandise.” Louis explained, chuckling at the kid’s reaction. He was just a young and stupid boy from Edinburgh, completely clueless when it came to knowing the process of how profit worked between employees and music executives.

Jamie’s eyes went wide and Louis didn’t miss a beat to continue to wrap his tentacles around the poor soul.

“You of course can look for another label, but don’t expect them to sign you on for a ten album contract. You’re good, but you aren’t meant to stay as a hot sensation – take it from me,” Louis chuckled, extending his hand. “So do we have an accord? Ten albums with the possibility of a contractual deal to expand if you continue in success? No less than eight legs of tour done in a timeframe of four years with each two legs being a full year and no less than three albums per year?”

Jamie was doing quick calculation in his head and it sounded like a lot to put on his plate, especially only being sixteen and inexperienced, but what he didn’t realize was the immense pressure Syco Entertainment put on these artists before the window of opportunity passed and their cute looks and poppy sound was no longer enough to wet the appetites of young and impressionable girls or boys.

To be blunt, it was a vicious cycle. The artists were worked like slaves until they outlived their usefulness and then promptly discarded without a care or crutch to lean on. Louis produced hundreds like Jamie in his short ten years as head executive and he’ll produce hundreds more before he retired.

“Yes! God yes!” Jamie exclaimed, the nervousness completely gone from his demeanor.

Louis shoved the already drawn up papers towards his next ant worker and gave him a red pen to finalize on the dotted line – the coppery ink symbolizing the blood and sweat of the young lad in front of him that will no doubt soon start to spill.

Jamie signed with a huge smile, standing up on shaky legs.

“I’ll get to writing new songs right away!” He yelled and grabbed Louis’s hand to shake again, bounding towards the door.

Louis hit the mechanism on his desk and the door unlocked, allowing the kid to leave without further delay. He got what he wanted and there was no further reason to hold up the lad’s departure.

“I’ll give the kid a ring tomorrow, give him his work detail.” Louis murmured to himself, picking up his pen and calculating the income from future earnings and based on the demographic of studies, Jamie undersold himself by at least fifteen million – not that Louis would be telling him that. It was his thing and he was good at what he did.

“Build them up, break them down. Name of the game eh, Simon?” Louis chuckled, pushing his leather office chair out and standing up with a stretch. “Time to go visit my beauties in their gilded cage…and give one of them a piece of my mind.”

Louis started toward the long upright rectangular doors with the pure white stained glass, its gleam reflected by the large square glass across from it by the dark ebony wood desk.

Across the room on the left was a large alcohol selection and completed with a large ottoman couch to make the stress of the business days ahead more tolerable.

He sighed contently, looking down at his reflection in the black onyx and diamond-gold encrusted tile. A gift to himself upon the first anniversary of Simon’s passing that cost him nearly twenty million pounds and the following year was the ebony desk with the plush furniture and pure painite gemstone chandelier.

That alone set him back nearly five hundred million pounds, but with his earnings from the time he had in the spotlight to all the blood he had bled from his current clients…well, he made a wage above most in London and he was not one bit ashamed of it.

“Coffee first though,” Louis said decidedly with a smirk, dying to get his caffeine fix. “Maybe Zayla is working today.” He hummed as an afterthought before walking the original path to the tall penthouse doors and heading down his private elevator to the ground floor.

Once there, he stepped out the rotating doors and into the bustling streets of London humming carelessly all the while.

“I’ve got friends in low places, yes I’ve got friends in low places.” He started to sing, working his way up from the continuous hum he had going.

A tap on his shoulders at the crosswalk made him go quiet while simultaneously turning around to see what cretin decided to disrupt his merry time of self-loathsome contempt.

“Hi!” A woman in a green, red and white striped elf costume greeted him cheerily.

Louis looked her up and down with a halfcocked smile.

“Hello, luv.” Louis greeted, thinking she was a fan or at the very least a local prostitute out for a little trick.

“I’m from the local children’s hospital, I am dreadfully sorry to bother you Mr. Tomlinson, but I’m out taking donations to help the families of the kids that we are currently treating and your name came up on this year’s list! Mr. Cowell valued– “Her explanation was cut short by the hold up of his hand.

“Simon may have seen your organization as a good cause, but I am most certainly not him and he has been dead for ten years – a decade ago today if memory serves. How time flies, hm?” He chuckled and turned to be on his way and would have if the woman had not put her hand on his arm.

“Sir? It is only but once a year that we collect for the kids. If you can spare me some time, I can explain – “She tried again, but Louis was having none of it and turned back to her small frame sharply.

“My time is valuable and would only just be wasted. I do not donate to children’s charities. They could not help my son in the time that he needed, so why the bloody hell should lost cause be directed at my pocket for the expense of the sick when their chance of survival is low to begin with?” Louis demanded, anger smoldering like a burning coal in his usually cold orbs.

The elf girl looked about ready to break down into tears then and there.

“Mr. Tomlinson, these children didn’t ask for anything in life so far that has happened to them. If you felt the need to see the hospital – “ She tried for the final time, only to be interrupted yet again with a small push of his hand over hers so her touch was no longer a restriction to him.

“My son didn’t ask for what he got either! I do not need your pathetic explanation on why these children are sick or dying. If they need to be healed, let them go to a church and pray. After all, God is the almighty healer of this Earth, yeah? Let him heal if he is so willing. I’ve better things to spend my money on and it isn’t on some snot-nosed little ligger.” Louis dismissed with gritted teeth, his octaves dropping a little deeper.

“Furthermore, if the parents cannot afford the bills without paying something into the pot themselves, then their children are better off dead so the rest of us don’t have to pick up the taxes going into these useless foundations. Life isn’t free, we all pay in some way or another and I chose not to enable the kids, feel free to pass that onto the parents, yeah?”

Louis took long strides across the street without giving the elf-girl another moment of his attention. He had bigger things to focus on, like his desperation for a good caffeine fix and Allure’s severe ear lashing.

Crossing the corner, he found the Starbucks packed with people out the door and he didn’t give a rat’s arse one way of that, because he was Louis and these people weren’t. Simple equation in his mind.

He squeezed passed the commoners and through the door of Starbucks, walking nonchalantly to the start of the line.

“Morning, Zayla!” Louis called with a wink, seeing her busting around to make the order of the haggard bloke beside him.

The man looked absolutely irate when Louis invaded his personal space and that just made Louis giddier.

See, misery loved company and he was determined to spread as much cheery misery as possible and if he accomplished that, it warmed his icy insides a couple degrees to know he pissed someone’s day to Hell and back.

Zayla gave him a wide smile.

“Morning Lou! I’ll be with you in just a sec! I’m a little behind this morning.” Zayla called, rushing to the back again and back out with a bag of tea leaves.

“Excuse me.” The old bloke responded, turning so he and Louis were face to face as the younger man had already moved his body sideways to watch Zayla run back and forth like a frantic mother chicken trying to find her peeps.

“Oh, no problem, mate,” He patted the older one’s shoulder in mock friendliness. “You’re excused, happens as we age, yeah? Body functions and whatnot. Personally, I don’t find anything indignant about it – if you gotta let one rip, go on about it then I always say.”

The man’s mouth dropped open.

“You, insolent little punk! The impertinence! How DARE – “He started, but Louis’s smirk only got wider and with gently fingers, he clapped them on the man’s shoulder to silence his rant.

“Calm down, the last thing I need you to do is keel over dead from a heart attack because some lowly record executive raised your blood pressure. I came simply to get my coffee and be off, just like you. Would you mind if we skipped the dramatics? I don’t have the energy to start a coffee brawl with an old man and my time is not to be wasted on anything but productiveness and there’s too much to list on that particular subject.” Louis explained, seeing the man’s stare derail off him, a scoff leaving his mouth at seeing the extra coffee girl coming from the back, checking her phone as she walked past them – Louis did too and that actually pissed him off. There were two workers supposed to be on-call at every given time, no wonder there was a holdup.

“Hey! Mountainous mammoth! Lazy Lucy with the phone! You’re supposed to be working, the bloody forking parrots is wrong with you?” Louis demanded, angered that Zayla was working on taking orders by herself without help.

Louis hated people, but not Zayla. Zayla was one of the good ones and in turn, she was the only soul that the thirty-four-year-old could consider human.

“She’s on her break, Lou, calm down. You’re next,” Zayla called, shooting her co-worker an empathetic look before coming to the counter and laying a tray down in front of the old man. “I am very sorry for your wait.”

“What do you mean she’s on break?! You’re back there yourself doing circles! Hey! Wally wobbles, get your ass back in there and help her or I’ll see your supervisor and tell him what a lazy little urchin you’re being!” He continued to antagonize while the other customers around him went unnaturally quiet.

After all, when Louis Tomlinson raises his voice, people tend to hear him a mile down the street – if Zayla were to take bets, she would guess at least the next five blocks heard the spectacle he was making.

“Louis! Its fine, let me get your coffee and pastry, huh? Will there be anything else for you today, sir?” She frantically asked the old man while trying to calm Louis down at the same time.

“Nope, I’m getting out of this squirrel house. I need to go visit my wife, she’s in hospital and I promised her a coffee and a pastry. All I came here for, all I needed. Thank you, luv,” He turned toward Louis and clapped his hand on his shoulder as the younger man had done to him earlier. “As for you, son, I hope God gives you all the time in the world. Though, I doubt it would still be enough time to learn respect, but they say miracles happen every day.”

With that he turned and walked briskly out the door, a round of applause following him as he went.

The girl with the phone looked back down with a placid expression, merrily typing away a text as if she was not just insulted and that in itself just made Louis angrier. So he did what any normal and sane bloke does, he walked calmly behind the counter and up to the table she had set her fat ass on, ripping the phone from her hand, slamming it to the ground and doing the foot stomp down on the fragile glass until he heard a satisfying crunch.

The girl looked at him in shock, mouth dropping open in silent aghast.

“Louis! Lou, you can’t be back here!” Zayla exclaimed, running to him and wrapping her arms around his back.

He ignored her touch and put his finger in the girl’s face.

“Now, you listen here Wally Wobbles – if I EVER come in here and Zayla has a line out the door because your fat arse wanted a break, I will not only destroy whatever electronic device you posses with you at the time, I will END your employment here. I’m connected with the ower and he is a man after my own heart. Furthermore, a place of this size should have two workers AT ALL TIMES,” He threw his hands angrily behind him to make a point. “Ms. Gretchen was running back and forth exhausting herself and you couldn’t even bother to HELP your fellow man during this sorry excuse for a festive season? I’ve met animals with more compassion. Get your shit together and GET THE HELL BACK TO WORK!” Louis finished with a boom, watching the girl jump, especially when his fist came down an inch from her when he smashed it down on the metal table to make a point.

The girl ran from the room to get her apron back on and in record time returned to start filling the customer’s orders.

Louis took a deep breath and turned around to embrace Zayla.

“Good morning, luv. How’s about I spare you a tick and we have a coffee, yeah? I could truly use one.” Louis exhaled in a now calm and weary tone.

Zayla nodded and went to get him his usual, returning with a raspberry pastry.

“Alright, I have a minute. Happy birthday, by the way.” She smiled softly, not wanting to agitate his already somber mood. This time of year was rough on the both of them, but the only difference was that her heart had not blackened to stone. She doubted there was any salvation to be had for Louis and though she tried to stay optimistic, she could only cry invisible tears for him at the person he let himself become.

“Don’t bloody remind me. Another year older, a less year wiser and richer than a king. Christ, Zayla, how can you stand working here? You are a GODDESS. I mean, I could have you in the Winter catalogue shoot by tomorrow. Why do you enjoy being poor? Why do you like running around and have nothing to show for it? It’s positively disheartening to see.” Louis walked with her to the furthest corner of the crowded Starbucks and sitting heavily into the cheap wooden chair.

He winced when the sharp surface met his bum.

“I enjoy meeting new people and hearing their stories. I’m a dreamer, Lou. I meet people and their day’s events help to remind me that my life could be a lot worse. I got a job, a roof over my head and my cat Fluffy. I am richer than the richest family in London. I love my life and can’t see it any other way. Besides, models are miserable twits, why would I want to be disconsolate?” She chuckled in good nature, drinking a sip from her steaming coffee.

Louis shrugged.

“Money. Why else would anyone become a model?” He quipped back, following her lead with his own cup.

“Money means nothing if you don’t have a purpose. We don’t live forever and we can’t take it with us.” Zayla shrugged.

“This is coming from someone whose boyfriend beat her Two-year-old child dead and only got three years because evidence was corrupted? A purpose must have reason, what’s yours, Za-Za? Hm? Working yourself to death so you don’t have to think about Isaiah?” Louis snapped, though he was oblivious to the pained look that ran across the woman’s face.

He bit into his pastry, meeting her dulled eyes.

Hers narrowed, but she still held the same disconnected softness as she always did when he went too far.

“I work here because I love people, I enjoy their company because someone has to care about others. I am only sorry you do not know what that’s like.” Zayla murmured, standing up and tightening her apron behind her. “I got to go help Mara; after all, what type of person would I be in this detestable season of giving if I didn’t, yeah? Goodbye Louis. May all your wishes come true today.”

“Poppycock! You’re trying to fill your void with company, just like Wally Wobbles apparently likes to drown her sorrows in cake – and tubs of butter.” Louis folded his arms across his chest in a stance to suggest that he was trying to make a point that Zayla simply didn’t get.

“Maybe I am!” Zayla exploded, her vibrant green eyes sparking with visible anger then. “Maybe I’m moving on and trying not to let my heart turn to stone. Louis? I love you like a brother, but the path you’re going down is damning your soul into this eternal flame that no one can reach in to pull you out. You have to make the effort to reach out, otherwise, no one is going to be able to help you and despite what a humongous jerkoff you are, there are people who still love and care. So hold them dear, because if you let them go, then there’s truly nothing left,” She told him leaning forward to kiss the top of his head, breaking her lips from him and scowling. “By the way, you owe Mara a new phone.”

With that she abruptly turned and walked away before Louis could retort.

Louis watched her go with a snort, standing up and grabbing his pastry, taking another bite out of it in agitation.

“Bloody women and their bloody logic. I don’t need help. I need competence and there seems to be plenty less of that going about today than normal.” Louis glowered, standing up and heading to the exit.

A man in a Santa outfit held the door open for him, tipping his head with a warm smile.

“Merry Christmas!” He called cheerily, making Louis spin around and shove his cup of coffee into the man’s chest with force.

“If I hear one more idiot wish me a Merry Christmas, I’m going to shove this down his trousers and see how merry it is for them. I am sick of that who-ha and if I had my way; Santa, the Easter Bunny, Tooth Fairy and father time would all be neutered, stuffed in a stew and boiled alive! So go on, say Merry bloody Christmas to me again and find out what happens fat guy!” Louis yelled, again catching the other customer’s attention.

The guy simply shrugged with another warm smile.

“Happy Hanukah then! May your days be blessed.” He attempted to correct himself.

Louis grunted and walked out the door that was still being held open for him without another word, after all, what was the point? He’d only just be mocked.

Once back out in the busy streets, he turned to walk around the corner and stopped abruptly when he crossed paths with three young kids in earmuffs that had walked up to him.

“Hello, sir!” The youngest boy quirked with a large grin.

He had bright green eyes and brown curly hair – though there was something quite off with him that Louis could just not place. He was pale and his skin seemed shrunken in, like death warmed over.

“If you’re from the hospital, I already told that Elf-bird of yours that I am not interested.” Louis said, attempting to walk passed them, but failing when they took a step forward simultaneously.

“Oh, we know all about that, but that’s not why we’re here.” The little boy with black raven hair and a short bob cut returned with a grin.

Louis folded his arms across his chest.

“Okay, then what’s your game, lads?”

The one with dyed blonde hair and blue eyes with the dark circles around them simply smiled and said nothing.

They all seemed to stare each other down for moment before Louis ended it with a simple distained grunt.

“Alright, well that was my time good and wasted. Thanks, kids. Excuse me.” Louis dismissed, walking around them to keep going, but the curly haired boy spoke again.

“I’m your Twelve o’clock appointment.” He giggles, making Louis turn back around with a raised up brow.

“I don’t have any appointments today at noon.” Louis rolled his eyes, thinking the kids were just simply trying to pull a prank on him.

Raven hair pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and a lighter from his other.

“Not noon, dumbass. Midnight. I’m your one o’clock and boy are we going to have fun,” He said tauntingly, lighting the tip of his cig, holding out the pack to offer Louis one. “Fag?”

Louis’s mouth dropped open at this kid. He was no older than six by the looks, standing there in the middle of the sidewalk and lighting up a cigarette – his parents need to give him a good wallop and ground him until he’s eighty.

“No!” Louis exclaimed, catching a few people’s attention from his outburst.

The raven haired boy shrugged and took another puff, the smoke leaving his mouth like a ghostly apparition.

“For the best then. I heard smoking can kill you.” He winks with a deep chuckle, making the quiet one of the group wheeze out a small sound that was a cross between a laugh and a cough.

Louis’s attention went to the dyed blonde. He simply pointed to himself and then held up three fingers with a mischievous smirk.

Louis had enough at that point. The Christmas music was giving him a headache and Santa’s donation bell from the next street over grated his last nerve to the point he was about to give Santa a little Holiday present that would require local surgery to remove something from somewhere that shall not be mentioned.

“Fun is over lads, go find your parents and torture them. I need to be somewhere.” Louis responded curtly and sidestepped the three, careful not to get too close.

The curly haired boy waved joyfully.

“See you at twelve!” He sang when Louis walked passed.

Louis whirled around to give their ears a good ringing, but his rant dyed on the tip of his lips when he saw that there was absolutely no one there.

“What the bloody parrots is going on today?!” Louis yelled, grabbing a woman’s arms gently and pointed to where the boys had been standing. “Not to sound crazy, which I’m not, but I was wondering if you saw three dead looking children standing right there? One was about six years old and smoking a cigarette, the other lad had curly hair and was way too happy in a creepy I’m going to murder you like Jeffery Dahmer sort of way and I think the blonde one was related to the reaper.” He rushed to explain, looking at the woman with a stoic look that soon gave way to shock when she hit him in the face with her purse and ran away.

“Bloody perfect! Hey!? Whatever happened to a simple no?!” He called after her running figure.

Louis growled and looked at his watch, eyes going wide at the time.

“Perfect! I’m late!” Louis yelled and stepped to the edge of the curb to hail a taxi.

Notes

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