Bonus
Andrew
The band I’d played with said they were tired of my antics. They said I was too crazy and didn’t like that I wouldn’t let them advertise who I was. That I sang with the band using a pseudonym name and disguised myself, instead of shouting to the world that I was a Silverman, pissed them off.
Fuck them.
Rock music, along with some hip-hop mixed in, was supposed to be eccentric. So, two months ago I’d started my own YouTube channel. I used a disguise, wanting to show that I had the ability to get into the industry on my talent alone, and not just my name. I knew that I could say who I was and become a huge mega star by using the Silverman name and connections associated with it. I didn’t have much to do with my cousins in America, but Orion was a huge Hollywood movie star, and our family name was known all around the world, and my cousin wasn’t the only famous Silverman. There were others, and although I and my closest family were even less close to them than our American cousins, I knew if I wanted to use my name, they’d help me become a mega star without even a second thought.
I was nervous now though, because I’d done something that could give me away. I’d toned down my usual disguise, no elaborate makeup, just my blond, shaggy wig, blue contacts, and black clothes. I kept my stage name, Dark Love. The video of my new song I’d just posted to my channel was more stripped back than most of the songs I’d put up over the last couple of months. I already had a large following, but I had a good feeling about this one. This song was the one that would get me noticed. Now I just had to share and sit back and let what will be, be.
My phone awoke me at five-something in the morning. I wasn’t a fucking morning person. Everyone knew I didn’t get out of bed before ten—well, now that I didn’t have school—unless someone was dying, or in my family’s case, had been kidnaped.
Not bothering to look to see who it was, I pressed answer and growled, “Someone better fucking be dying or have been kidnaped again, because you know I don’t do mornings. Is this even classed as morning? On weekends, this is when I fucking go to bed.”
“Are you done whining yet?” Oakley, my cousin, best friend, and the only person in my family who knew of my double life, snapped.
“No, I’m not. You do know I’ve only had like a couple of hours sleep. I need my beauty sleep.” I checked the time again on the phone and covered my eyes with my arm and groaned. “What the fuck are you doing up at this time anyway?”
“I haven’t slept yet. You didn’t get my messages?” His voice got higher, and I knew something big was going on.
Holding the phone away from my ear, I see a bunch of messages from Oakley. Not bothering to read them, I put the phone back to my ear. “That’s a lot of messages. Just tell me ’cause I ain’t reading them.”
“You’ve made it, Andrew. You’re a music sensation.”
Oakley kept talking, but I zoned out and focused on the first four words he’d said. Blinking to wake myself up more, I pulled the phone away to check YouTube and my latest post. I dropped my phone on the bed as I jumped out of it to yell, “Fuck yeah.” My newest song had over two million views and was climbing close to three million. Holy shit. I’d made it.
I didn’t even bother hanging up on Oakley. I was going to make plans for my future.
I should have listened to the rest of what Oakley had said, because I would have learned that it had been discovered that I was a Silverman. The comments were mostly good, but the others were not just bad, they were brutal, saying that I’d used my name and money for all sorts of things, like auto-tuning my voice, paying to be noticed, and other shit. It was fucked. The reason I’d disguised myself and used my stage name, Dark Love, was so I didn’t have to hear anything about the Silverman name. I wanted to show people I had fucking talent.
Twenty-four hours ago, no one knew who Dark Love was, and Andrew Silverman was just some guy with a family that was famous for being rich with some talented people among them. Now my mobile wouldn’t stop, and my message bank was full. I didn’t even know I had a fucking message bank until I received a message to say it was full.
My mother was on the warpath. I was her baby. The youngest of four. I got away with a lot, but my mother was a social butterfly and made the papers all the time for her charities and fundraising parties, and my new persona wasn’t anything like the squeaky-clean image we portray to the world, or in my case, the goofy, partying, playboy image.
Dark Love was just that—dark. It was where I let go, talked about my gilded cage, the curse on my family, and the love I was becoming surrounded by. It was all my fears and anger rolled in dark punk rock music.
My parents were the public image of the Silverman family in Australia. I knew my mother would come around soon. She’d gotten over Mason choosing to further his boxing career and make it big with that. I knew she’d come around to my chosen career; it would just take her a couple of days, maybe a week, until she came down from the shock and not even knowing I could sing. I think that was the real reason she was upset with me. Not the punk look, music, or that I’d kept what I was doing a secret, it was that she didn’t know first that I could sing.
Richard had visited my penthouse apartment just after lunch, bringing my nephew Sebastian, who was adorable and a much-needed distraction from the chaos my life had suddenly turned into. Richard let me play with Sebastian, who was walking, but on wobbly feet. With how baby crazy my family was, I was surprised the poor kid knew how to walk, because he was picked up and cuddled or held onto by someone almost all the time.
I was thankful to have older brothers who were business savvy. Richard answered all my questions, and he didn’t judge me about not telling him I could sing and the music I made. He understood why I wanted to try to do it all on my own.
Now I had to figure out what my next move would be. It had happened—I’d made it big. And now I had to grow up and look out for my future and where I would take my career next.