Brando by J.D. Hawkins Page A

first time, or maybe she knows I’ve
never been able to resist the taut curve of her neck when her head’s
turned. We don’t
speak until the cappuccinos are in front of us, as if we both need
time to adjust to the other’s
presence again. When Lexi takes out a pack of cigarettes and lights
one, I know shit’s
serious. International pop stars don’t
smoke in public. I always thought it was a disgusting habit, but I’d
forgive Lexi anything. Almost anything.
    “Things
aren’t going well,”
she says, before blowing out a
long plume of smoke.
    “Funny,”
I say, “’cause
the last time I saw you and leatherface you seemed pretty pleased
with yourselves.”
    “That
was nearly a week ago. This is now. A week’s
a long time in music – you
know that.”
    “Your
album is at number one in the charts. I don’t
see the problem.”
    “ Was number one. Now it’s
dropping like a stone.”
    She
holds the cigarette in her fingertips and leans over her coffee cup.
Something about the gesture makes me shake inside, like a hammer
hitting a bass piano note. Suddenly I’m
not here anymore, not in a fancy beachside LA café,
drinking ten-dollar cappuccinos out of oversized cups. I’m
right back at the start, sitting with Lexi in a run-down twenty-four
hour Brooklyn diner, drinking bitter black coffee from styrofoam
cups, planning how I’m
going to take her to the top.
    “How
the hell does that happen?”
    Lexi
laughs sadly before taking another deep drag, her pink lipstick
leaving elegant marks on the cigarette butt.
    “Because
it’s not about the
music to Davis. The music’s
just a tool; I’m the real commodity. Everything was about getting a number one album.
He had this big plan for it. Big launch events all over the US.
Social media campaigns. Made-up controversies to keep it on the news
sites. I think he even hired a company to boost the online hits,
leave fake comments, that kind of thing. It was all planned out. Like
a military operation. Propaganda.” Lexi
pauses to take another deep drag and gaze at the foam in her cup.
“But the music
sucked. The music always sucked. With the singles it was fine. All he
had to do was put me in the video doing something hot. Or release a
song with a controversial lyric that went just a little bit further
than what the last empty pop star had done. You hear anything enough
times – even by
accident – and
you’ll start humming
it. But now that it’s
all out there—now
that people can hear the album and judge it for themselves…I
guess there’s
nowhere to hide.”
    I
slowly sip my coffee, eyes fixed on her, anger rolling inside of me
like a gathering storm.
    “So
what do you want from me?” I
say.
    “A
friend who might understand? Advice? I don’t
know.”
    I
continue to stare at her as I take another sip.
    “Believe
it or not, I don’t
want us to be strangers, Brando. I heard you’ve
got a new project – I’m
really happy for you. Honestly. I want to see you do well. Seriously,
your latest fuck-buddy is cute enough, and I’m
sure with enough work you can fluff her up into something
half-decent, right?”
    For
a moment I say nothing. You know what the worst part is? It’s
that Lexi isn’t even
being malicious. This is just the way she thinks. In her mind, she
just gave me a compliment.
    I
drain the last of my coffee and pull my wallet out of my pocket.
    “What
are you doing?” Lexi
asks, surprised at my gesture.
    “I’m
gonna pay for the coffee.”
    “Where
are you going? We haven’t
even spoken properly—”
    “I
used to think you were perfect,” I
interrupt, putting the money on the table and looking straight at
her, “so when you
left all that time ago, I thought it had to be me that was the
problem. I thought Davis knew something I didn’t.
That maybe I couldn’t
make you a star like he could. But now I know I was right all along.”
    “It’s
not like that—”
    “You
wanted this, Lexi. You wanted to be bigger than the music,”
I growl,