Max

Freefalling.

It's called that for a reason. You're free. Free from stress, from your unavoidable mistakes, from the shit life likes to make you overcome. But it's also called falling for a reason. Because that's what it is you're doing. You only have that sense of freedom because eventually, you will hit the ground. Sometimes that landing is slow, soft and peaceful, with the assistance of a parachute. Sometimes you might get caught in a tree, delaying the inevitable. And other times, other times you just fall flat on your face.

I'm pretty sure I've hit the pavement. I'm pretty sure this is what it feels like to settle on the proverbial uneven gravel of rock bottom. The coursing ache radiating throughout my entire body tells me I've hit concrete, the inability to force my eyes open tells me this very well could be the end to my story, and the fact that there's some foreign ringing in my ear tells me I'm living in hell.

"Someone please make that horrible sound stop," a petite voice beside me sounds, making me wonder if I'm taking the walk to hell as a duo because apparently we both hear the sound.

"It's not mine," another quiet voice beside me whines.

Okay, so I'm definitely not alone. There might even be a chance I'm alive too.

I start preparing my body to move. Begin actually telling my limbs to lift from whatever surface I might be occupying right now. Though my extremities aren't exactly responding as they should, I can now feel the soft surface I seem to be taking residency in. It most certainly is not the pavement.

The gentle ringing eases, but the fallen silence is only temporary as a loud pounding on the door fills the room. A pounding that is much worse than the ring, for the pounding seems to echo throughout my head, awakening my arms as I bring them to my forehead, applying whatever pressure I can manage.

The next few events play out rather quickly. The door flying open prompts voice number one to my right to spring from the bed. That motion has my eyes finally stretching open to take in the sight of a very naked back half of a blonde. That's when voice number two complains beside me, groggily pulling up the sheet to her neck as her red curls cascade around her face. Not a single name comes to mind. Not one fucking name for either of the girls surrounding me. Fuck.

I guess none of that matters because the next event that comes into play is the warmth of the sheet that's keeping my naked body shielded being quickly ripped off of me.

"What the fuck, Hal?" I yell at the man standing at the foot of my bed.

"Jesus, Max," he huffs before throwing the sheet back over me. "Do you even know what the hell I've been dealing with this morning?"

The blonde disappears into the bathroom as the red headed one pulls herself from the bed, taking the only sheet with her. I don't bother covering up. Not because I prefer flashing my agent, but well, shit the thought of standing up to find something to cover myself with sounds like a lot of work right about now.

Hal is quick to respond though, reaching for one of the throw pillows on the couch and tossing it to me. I will my fingers to grasp the corner, pulling it to my lap. My other hand manages to run through my hair to feel the tangled mess matted there.

"Do you even have a clue of the mess you made last night?" he questions, now pacing the room. His staggered steps suddenly make me feel like I'm on a boat in the middle of a storm.

"No, but I'm sure you're about to fill me in."

He looks at the girl now fully clothed before looking over at the other one emerging from the bathroom, also now layered in clothing. His stern, semi-threatening look causes both of them to turn away, shuffling through the door. I guess I probably should have said bye, made sure they had a ride or some shit like that. But if Hal is here, that means Vivian is close behind. And if Vivian sees two girls leaving in club attire, she'll make sure they get home safely, not to mention discreetly.

"Damn it, Max. Two more fucking shows. That's it. You couldn't last two more shows then disappear for the summer, could you?"

I still have no idea what the fuck he's talking about. Actually, where the fuck am I?

"What town are we in now?" I ask, ignoring the story he's currently trying to convey.

"For fuck sake, Max," he exhales before heading to the window. Pulling the blinds, he fills the room with a blinding light, one that causes me to shut my eyes tight.

When I finally manage to ease them open, I take in the large sign outside the window. Fucking Tennessee. The place it all began. I remember now. I went out last night to celebrate with some old friends. Ones I met when I first came here eight years ago. The very ones that stuck by my side, showed me the ropes. We started at a bar, got up for open mic night, then left to another one, doing the same thing. At one point the alcohol wasn't enough, just as it rarely is anymore. That's when Isaac pulled out the good stuff. It's also about the time where my memory becomes a lot more hazy.

"I'm guessing by the look on your face, the night is beginning to come back to you?" he asks, but I don't respond. To be honest, I can't fucking respond. Yeah, I know where I am. I know I went out last night, but that's about it.

"Well, let me paint a picture of the mess both Vivian and I are cleaning up right now." Great, can't wait. Vivian is my publicist. She's also a master at spinning the stories I keep feeding the press. I'm the paparazzi's biggest prize at the moment. It's quite the fucking accomplishment. "You decided the whole downtown area needed a little impromptu concert," his voice keeps going.

Sounds about right.

"So you borrowed a guitar, stumbled your high, drunk ass into the middle of the road–"

This is getting interesting.

"Then proceeded to play songs that haven't been released yet. Songs that the label already denied you from placing on the next album."

That's fucking right I did that. This shit ass label has been controlling the songs that I sing for way too long. Always choosing that sappy love shit. The happy ending kind of crap that makes the ladies swoon. Life's not all butterflies and rainbows and love sure as hell doesn't always end in a fairytale. Love fucking hurts. It rips your heart from your chest and never returns it. It forces you to wander the rest of your path with a hole in your chest and causes you to lose your moral compass, like messing around with women hoping that maybe, just maybe, one of them will begin to fill that void. FYI, they don't.

"I don't see the problem. Those songs are good, Hal. You know that," I attempt to defend myself.

"Doesn't matter," he proceeds. "You know what matters is what they want. The very people who gave you your career. They own you. Whether you like it or not, this is what you signed up for."

I let out a deep breath. This was never what I signed up for. I didn't want this, not this level of fame or control over my music. I just wanted to play, to be able to sing for the world.

"I never fucking wanted this, Hal. You know that!" I yell now. He doesn't deserve my anger. He's actually been the one person who's been with me from the beginning, well, him and Vivian. But Hal was there in my living room, promising my mom he would watch out for me. He's kept his promise to the best of his ability. I haven't made it easy on him, or Vivian for that matter. Last night is a prime example of that.

He drops his head before falling into the chair behind him now. "I know, Max. I do. But it is what you signed on for. You have a contract, one that you clearly broke last night."

I know he's right. As much as I want to ignore it, he's right. "Alright, so what? Am I fined? Do I need to issue some fake ass public apology? What is it this time?"

The thing is, this isn't the first time I've broken the contract. I try to comply, I really do. Sometimes it gets really fucking draining trying to be someone you're not. The restrictions on my music aren't the only battles I've been losing either. When I first took this gig, I had an image to uphold. I was labeled America's Heartthrob. I was meant to be the all American Goodboy Next Door.

That was fine at first. I didn't mind staying clean, keeping up appearances. That is until I began to spiral. When late nights and early mornings began to wear me down. And when this long traveled road began to feel a bit too lonely, I found myself some friends. I found an escape. It didn't take long to gain the title of another young star caving under the limelight.

Yep, I became a statistic.

"It's a little more complicated this time," Hal begins.

What the hell does that mean? "Okay? Care to elaborate on that statement?"

He sighs before reaching for his phone. "I think it's better I show you."

He tosses me his phone and I hesitate. Looking at myself in the street, guitar in hand, eyes fucking glossed over, barely open. My hair is in disarray and somehow I'm missing a goddamn shoe. The sheer volume of views in a mere few hours tells me this isn't good. I take a breath before hitting play.

"That was a good fucking song, wasn't it?"

The drunken audience claps and cheers.

"Fuck yeah it was!" I shout out, my body wavering. "And you know what that shit label said? They said it was too removed from my general audience. That they wouldn't understand. What do you think about that?"

The crowd goes crazy, shouting out, defending me, tearing down the label. For one, I want to give drunk me a high five. I want to stand back up on my soapbox and tell them to take a good look at the support for me, for my music, not theirs. Unfortunately, that's not where my night ends.

"Well, you know what I say to that?" I shout, the crowd eating out of my hand at this point. "I say fuck them!" Everyone cheers, chanting out those exact words. "They can all kiss my ass!" I shout again, causing more screams to erupt. I don't stop though. I watch with one eye as I begin to undo the belt around my jeans.

Oh no.

"Let me make it easy for all you up there in your mighty office, making decisions that aren't yours to make. You..." I unbutton my jeans. "Can..." the zipper slides down next. "Kiss..." I pull them down. "My ass!" and there it is, ladies and gentleman. My ass on display for the whole world to see.

"I don't need to see anymore," I shake my head, handing it back to Hal.

"Look, the brightside? Your social media has already gained another hundred thousand followers in the last ten hours. Bad news, the label is pissed. They're threatening to drop you. Deemed you unreliable and a risk to their image."

"So what? After eight years this is what they're going to use to drop me? Come on, you said it yourself, my following is up. I'm assuming my songs are up on the charts too, aren't they?"

He sighs. "Yes. Young Love just hit number one after dropping to number ten last week."

"See. They're upset I didn't comply, but they'll get over it. Money talks, Hal."

"Not this time, Max. They're looking into clauses in your contract. Ones that clearly state they can let you go without paying you out."

"So, what are you saying?"

"I'm saying, you need to lay low. Let this blow over, maybe even attempt to get your old image back. But mostly, just fucking disappear while I work this out. I can't convince them to keep you while you're out making more waves."

Lay low? How the hell am I supposed to lay low? I can't even go to the fucking store without making the cover of Us Weekly.

The door opens now, my eyes flashing to Vivian before looking down at my still naked body. I really should grab some clothes.

"Max?" she enters, taking in my bare skin before turning slightly away. "Sorry, it's just, it's your mom."

Great. Can this day get any worse? I'm sure her and Dad just saw my bare ass online and are dying to give me a lecture. One I most definitely deserve and so crucially need to avoid. I've disappointed them too much lately. As a result, I've found it better to avoid their calls.

"Did you tell her I'm in a meeting?" I question.

"Of course," she replies. "But she keeps calling."

"Vivian," Hal jumps in. "This really isn't the best time. Can you tell her this meeting is important?"

"I did," she insists. "But she said this is urgent. She sounds really worried, Max."

That's when I feel it. When that hole in my chest reminds me that there is actually a heart in there somewhere. When the nightmare I lived through so many years ago comes flashing back into my mind. My mom has been clear of her brain tumor for almost twenty years. There's no way it can be back, right?

I leap from the bed, keeping the pillow firmly in place while grabbing my jeans from the floor. I quickly pull them up before reaching for my phone that still seems to be buried in my pocket. Twelve missed calls. Eight from Mom, two from Dad, and two from my sister. If Lily is calling, something is definitely wrong.

No one says anything as I sprint from the room.

The phone rings only one time before my mom's voice comes through the line.

"Max?"

"Yeah, Mom, it's me. What's wrong?" I hold my breath, waiting for the answer.

"I think you should come home." Her voice is quiet. She's holding something back.

"Why? What happened?"

I can hear her breaths through the phone. She's thinking about her answer. "You just need to come home. Please?"

I don't know what exactly has happened, but the tone in her voice tells me all I need to know. I've avoided home for too long. I've had my reasons. I left when I was eighteen, to live out the dream of becoming an artist. I've done it. I've become a household name, sold more records than I can even keep track of anymore, played at numerous sold out concerts, received various awards at nearly every music award show there is. I've done it all. And yet, I'm on the fucking pavement, scraping up the remains.

"You're okay, though?"

"That depends," she hesitates, and it's within that small pause that my ass hits the floor, waiting. "We miss you," she finally says.

Fuck. The way that drop hits her voice tells me all I need to know about this call. I've heard it every time I screw up. It's why I don't answer. Because I know the only pain she's feeling is in her heart. It's a pain I put there, one that I don't want to carry the responsibility for.

"Mom, I can't–"

"I know," she finishes for me. "But you can't hide forever, Max. This is your home."

I've lost myself along the way. Left my heart in the small lake town with the only girl who ever truly understood me. Walking away from her, from everything and everyone I love resulted in me moving forward as a shell of who I was. I've been empty for a long time. But I know that right now, what I need more than anything, is the comfort of home, even if that means I might have to face the one girl who captured my heart and never gave it back.