Faking Smiles

I don't know how I ended up here. Well, I guess I do know, but I still just don't get how I ever was put into this position. Let me explain from the very beginning:

Oli Loke is the most famous teen on Earth. I'm not even exaggerating; he tours all over the world and basically all of his concerts are sold out within five minutes of the tickets going on sale. He's a singer, dancer, is starting to take up acting and all around is a great kid.

Or at least that's what he wants you to think.

Within the last year, he has started to party all night, wake up late, coming into the studio still hungover and slightly high. Of course none of the general public knows about this. If the paparazzi were to find out about Oliver's reckless partying, his career would go down the toilet.

So how do I know about all of this? That's an excellent question.

I was auditioning to be one of Oliver's back-up dancers on his next tour the day it all went down. I was wondering around a building, trying to find the audition room, when I ran into Mister Oliver Loke himself. He was high.

I just stared at him and waited for him to say something, but he was too far gone. Eventually I had sighed and took him to the closes bathroom to splash water in his face. That would sometimes help me when I still did stuff like pot.

I knew I was going to miss my audition, but I had it in my mind that if I helped Oli, maybe he would help me. Of course in the end, his version of me helping him wasn't just making him look presentable that one time. We'll get to that later.

I spent almost an hour in the bathroom with him that day. We had gone in, I had him sit on the counter, I grabbed I bunch of paper towels and wet them, I wiped his face some, and then I just sat in there with him and talked until he came off it somewhat. I would have him splash water in his face every now and then once he was able to think.

God, I'll never know what possessed him and put the idea in his head that he just had to become extremely trashed that day.

Once he was able to speak without jumbling his words too much, he took me back to his private dressing room and sat me on the couch while he went to take some meds that would help him focus better. That's when I figured that the drugs thing wasn't a one time deal with him.

Once he had come back, he told me he had an idea.

He found out in the bathroom that I was there for the dancing auditions and he told me that as long as I went along with his idea, he would make sure I got a position as one of his dancers.

That's what had gotten my attention.

He told me that he's been having some problems lately and it would really help him if he had me, not someone like me-it had to be me, on tour with him. He wanted me there to help him get out of the haze he always gets after partying all night. I guessed that what I had done for him earlier had actually helped him.

So it was decided I was going to go on tour with him as a dancer, but then he got an even better idea.

If I was going to be helping him everyday, then I couldn't stay on the tour bus that had all the other dancers on it. I would have to stay on his bus. That's when he decided it would be best to have everyone believe I was his girlfriend. It would make sense if I was going to be around him a lot, right?

We would have to fool everyone. He said he couldn't let anyone know that I was hired just to help him sober up for just a few hours a day. He didn't want his parents to know, his friends to know, the crew, other celebrities, and especially not his fans. We had to make it look like we actually romantically cared for each other.

What would tell everyone, you ask? I was going to audition to be a dancer when I ran into him (literally) and we just started talking and never stopped. It was already really late into the night by the time we realized I had missed the audition (that would be rescheduled) and it was way to late for me to be wondering the streets of Los Angeles by myself. So supposedly, Oliver took me home around one in the morning and we exchanged numbers and even after we left each others sides, we continued to talk through text till I fell asleep.

It's kind of a cute story if you didn't know the truth. Sure, it's based on the truth. I truly didn't get home till really late and we had exchanged numbers, but we didn't talk again till the next morning and whenever we were talking it'd usually be for someone else's benefit or it'd be about how to fool the next person coming our way.

We haven't had an actual conversation since the day in the bathroom and that was three weeks ago.

Tomorrow is the day we leave for Oliver's four month country-wide tour. This should be fun.