Chapter 2

JC stepped into his Mercedes-Benz a half an hour later. He needed to get away from the deafening silence of his mansion and Eric wanted to do lunch. They hadn’t seen one another since JC quit the TV show a few weeks ago. JC knew he would be bombarded with questions about why he left; he’d been avoiding this meeting for that specific reason. Alas, he couldn’t do it forever. Maybe Eric would get off his back after today. He sighed. Yeah, like that’s going to happen. He’s part of the reason I feel this way right now.

Eric had a brilliant mind; his master’s degree was in Business Management from Stanford. Then how could someone so smart be such a douche? He hadn’t done JC any favors as his manager; the guy had gotten into numerous heated arguments with record executives over the content of Schizophrenic. One executive in particular thought the album was “too sexy and no one wants to buy a sex record from a washed out boybander”. Eric has cursed the guy out while pointing out the record was not just about sex; JC had also written songs about the many facets of relationships. He wished Eric hadn’t been so abrasive about making his point; after that conversation, things really seemed to go downhill.

I thought I was getting out of the house to get my mind off my troubles. Yet at every corner, something reminded him of the crushing depression. Sometimes he felt like a prisoner inside his own mind. No matter what he did, he couldn’t break open the lock on the mental door because of the illness. That’s what others didn’t understand. Clinical depression wasn’t cured with a mere snap of a finger.  At times, it was a war to do even the simplest of tasks. JC figured Eric wouldn’t understand; his friend always bragged about any accolade he had, however minute.

He groaned. Remind me why I agreed to this again?

You need to get this over with. You need to talk to him. He sighed in resignation and got out of the car.

A lanky guy with disheveled black hair and tanned skin awaited him in front of the little café. He was intensely focused on his iPhone at the moment; JC hoped he wouldn’t check his texts and emails every five seconds but he knew that was not likely.  At times, JC wondered why he kept Eric around as a friend. If he was being truly honest with himself, it was familiarity. It was comfortable and he knew what to expect. He could control the doses of Eric’s personality he could handle. Truth be told, JC didn’t get all that much out of the friendship; the guy was capable of intelligent and undivided conversations every once and awhile, but he couldn’t remember the last time that happened. Months. Maybe even years. One of JC’s biggest problems was confronting people when he wasn’t happy with them. He’d been like that since he could remember; someone had to reach in the darkest places of his being to evoke a reaction.

Eric looked up from his phone. “It’s about time, C! How are ya, man?”

“I’m making it.” They did a one-armed hug. “How about yourself?”

“Oh, just fantastic. I had a date last night.” He flashed that million watt smile that JC was sure had charmed dozens of women in the past.

JC raised an eyebrow. “And?”

“It was great! I see it going somewhere.”

You say that every time. “What’s so different?”

“I don’t know. She’s just special.”

Remind me why I’m here again. The duo sat down at a small table near the back for privacy.

Eric then furrowed his brow. “What the hell were you thinking? You had a good standing on that show aside from the arguments with that doofus judge.”

JC cringed inwardly. Even though he found D-Trix annoying at times, he couldn’t stand others talking bad about him. The disagreements hadn’t been that intense at first, only differences in opinion about the performance. But one day D-Trix contradicted one of JC’s critiques and said “unlike my stuffy colleague here.” He took that the wrong way and that set off an intense barb fest. Even he was surprised after his resignation sunk in. It was almost like he wasn’t in his right mind.  “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? You had to be thinking something!”

“Dude, I’m being serious. I don’t know. It was on a whim. D-Trix said the stuffy comment and something snapped inside of me. I’m not entirely sure it had to do with him. Anyway, I left. Why do you need a reason?”

“Well” Eric stated in a matter of fact tone, “As your manager, media outlets have been hounding me for any comments from you regarding this fiasco. The show released a PR statement saying you had ‘creative differences’ but everyone knows that’s the bullshit answer.”

JC shrugged. “I don’t owe anyone an explanation, aside from the people I trust. The public and media don’t fall in that category.”

“You’re a celebrity. You should have known people would notice. Next thing you know, they’ll be writing about you having a stage five mental breakdown or something.”

That enraged JC. Normally, he never paid attention to gossip stories about himself. The last thing he needed was someone worrying about what everyone else thought. What about him? Didn’t Eric care about him as a person? Apparently not. “What if I don’t give a shit, Eric? I’m having a hard time right now. And what’s the first thing you ask me? ‘Why did you do it?’ to get people off your ass. Maybe you should have asked me how I was.”

“I did ask!” Eric snorted.

“Yeah, but it wasn’t one of those genuine ones. There’s a difference.”

Razor sharp silence followed. Eric’s frown showed he wasn’t expecting such hostility. JC felt terrible for his response, but at the same time he had long term resentment that he hadn’t addressed.

“Well, you want to go somewhere to get your mind off it?” Eric finally asked a few moments later.

“Is there any events going on soon?”

Eric raised his eyebrow. “Why?”

JC sighed and took a swing of beer. “If I’m going to tell the public anything about this, it’s going to be on my terms. I haven’t been able to do that in my solo career.”

“Fair enough” He picked up his phone “The Westin Hotel in LA is hosting a gala for music education fundraising tonight. You believe in that stuff.”

“Done. I’ll go.”

“Are you sure?” His tone was softer.

“Yes.” JC answered tersely. Your window of caring closed a long time ago, buddy.