I Wouldn’t Love You Even If You Were a Rockstar

I arrived at my house with an envelope in my hand. I just stopped by the post office to get my mail, and saw this letter sent by my dad.

In it were two first-class tickets to DC tomorrow evening. He just throws away money, I could settle for an economy-class ticket. As I took the tickets out, a photo fell along with it. I picked it up cautiously, scared of what it may be.

It was a picture of my mom, my ‘dad’, and me when I was only 7 years old. There was also a small sheet of paper, and this is written in my mom’s handwriting:

Dear Soraya Leah,
I miss you very much, as much as I love you. When you left, I knew that it was time to let you go, because if you want to leave, it means that I brought you up well and you were ready to face the world. My love, the world is a big place. You can go anywhere, but I know that you will reach your dreams. Aim for the stars, and you will soar. After Washington DC, maybe you’d like to visit me in Beverly Hills? I live there now, I’m sorry that I haven’t told you. I’m afraid of what you’ll think. I now work at a prestigious acting company, being an agent of some rising stars.
I would like you to know that I am very happy that you didn’t make the same mistake I did. I gave birth to you when I was 18, Soraya, and your father left us alone. I asked him to give you this letter after we met so he could ask if I would let you go to the Oval Office. So he still cares about my opinion. Aya, you’re my miracle. Make me proud of you. Make me know that my daughter reached for the stars and got there. Don’t let anyone down. I love you.
Lots of love,
Sarah Fawzi

Tears dripped down my chin as I read the familiar handwriting that my mother uses. I wiped them away hurriedly and got my phone out. I dialed Krysha’s number and the phone rang two, three, four, five times.
“Hello?” Krysha’s voice is heard from the other line.
“Krysha, can you pack some of your clothes?”
“Err…why, exactly?” she asked.
“I need you to come with me to Washington for a week, then to Beverly Hills.” I said.
“Sure, see you!” she said and put the phone down.

Krysha was in the same situation as me. She started working at age 18 because her mom wanted her to, and now she’s supporting herself. Within half an hour, she was at my doorstep. She looked at me for three seconds, and rushed to hug me, leaving her suitcase blocking the door.

“Storm…” she hushed. I just cried into her shoulder. She was like a sister to me.
“Mom’s still alive. She sent me a letter by dad and asked me to go to Beverly Hills.” I said. Krysha smiled and wiped my tears away.

We went downstairs with our stuff and we gave the keys to the watchman for my house. We got into a cab and drove off to the airport.
---

We’re already on the plane to DC from New York. First class, and Krysha is starting to get drunk from drinking too much champagne.

“Are we there yet?” Krysha slurred. I rolled my eyes. We have been on the plane for 3 hours, and I’m more bored than ever!
“No, Krysha, there’s still 2 more hours to go.” I groaned for the twentieth time. She has been asking that for the past hour!
“Oh. Ok.” She looked out the window like a sane person…I doubt that she is…
“Ma’am would you like more champagne?” the steward asked us. Krysha brightened up and put up her wine glass, but I pushed it away.
“No, thank you. We wouldn’t like anymore champagne for the rest of the flight, please.” I said to him. He nodded and gave us soda instead.
“But I wanted…” she started whining.
“No, Krysha, or I’ll throw you out the window.” I laughed. She chuckled and then fell asleep in a snap.

Without her bothering me, I started to slowly fall asleep, too.

---

“Miss, are you still alive?” a deep, husky voice asked me. I opened my eyes slowly to see a gorgeous guy. Well, I think he’s gonna be gorgeous under the sunglasses, scarf and hat.
“Yes, I am.” I laughed. He smiled a dazzling smiled at me as I looked around.
“Err…where are the other people?” I asked him nervously. He chuckled.
“The plane landed 30 minutes ago, and I was doing the same as you until a stewardess woke me up. Come on, I’ll come with you.” He offered me a hand. I took it and we walked out of the plane together. The guy and I separated once we were in the airport, and went to two limos. It turned out that this driver from the White House has already taken my bag, with Krysha.
“Bye!” I said and waved at him as we both got into limos. He was in a limo…maybe he’s rich…

“Where were you?” a not drunk Krysha greeted me from inside the limo driving us to the flat.
“I fell asleep and you didn’t wake me up, you dumbass.” I cursed at her. She pouted, but then I remembered about the guy.
“Thanks, Krysh.” I hugged her.
“For what?” she had a confused look on her face.
“Nothing…just…forget I even said that, okay?” I told her, looking out the window to avoid looking guilty.
“Sure, whatever you say.” She shrugged and looked out the window again.

The limo stopped in front of a high-rise building and the driver let us out, with our suitcases, jaws dropping at the luxury flats. Krysha and I squealed and ran inside, making way to the receptionist’s desk.

“Name, please?” she said, looking at her computer.
“Soraya Leah Simmons,” I said, she nodded and gave me a bunch of keys.
“Room 208, 20th floor, 8th room to the left.” She said with a smile and a bellboy helped me and Krysha with our bags.

The elevator ride took 3 friggin minutes! Maybe being in the top floor isn’t that good. WRONG. The view was AMAZING. It showed the whole city and…well, the White House was just a few blocks down.

“Oh my God, holy bitch, this is amazing!” she screamed. The bellboy left our suitcases in the living room and left after I gave him $50 dollars for a tip.
“No, shit, you gave him $50?! I should’ve brought our bags so I can get the money!!!” she screamed when the door was closed. I laughed and went around the house.

The flat was amazing. It was a two-storey condominium, and there are three rooms. One was mine; another was Krysha’s, and one guest room. The kitchen was all white and black, with checkerboard tile flooring. There was a door leading to the living room, and it was full with books from ceiling to floor and there was a spacious balcony. There were also two bathrooms downstairs, one blue, and one green. I climbed up the stairs and there were four doors: a master’s bedroom, second master’s bedroom, and a guest room. Everything was already furnished and was all good. The upstairs toilet was colored cream, and both of the master bedrooms have bathrooms.

“Whoa, your dad went so far with this one.” Krysha chuckled. The phone rang and I got the extension upstairs.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Soraya, do you like the house?” my dad said from the other line.
“Yes, dad, very much.” I replied. I actually meant what I said.
“Great, I’m going to come over and I’m bringing something with me.” he said and put down the phone.
“Hey, what was that?” Krysha asked me. I told her what my dad said and she went away to watch some TV.

The doorbell rang, and I went to open it. My dad was there, surrounded with bodyguards and handed me an envelope. I let them in, but my dad refused.

“No, just remember that you have to go backstage after the concert at all costs.” He winked at me and headed for the elevator.

I stood there, looking at the closed elevator doors. I closed the door and sat on the sofa, beside Krysha. I opened the envelope slowly, afraid of what’s inside. I took the two pieces of paper out and they were tickets to…