Why Do People Suck? Chapter One

This book helped me with my frustrations. Surprisingly, I think people are great, but sometimes they have to deal with those that are not.

Here is a sneak peek!

Shrieks from the most frightening monsters pierced the air.

My heart hammered, sweat beaded on my forehead as I searched for them. They headed in my direction, chasing their next prey.

I retreated to the grass to let them pass. Those barbarians had once stripped the clothes off a boy band’s lead singer, scaring him into leaving the entertainment industry forever. I couldn’t afford a bodyguard to protect me from the Sol fans, Solar Harmony’s fanbase name, because my manager had stolen my money.

The famous person rollerblading would never lose the teenage girls chasing him without help. Pity rose inside me, and I rolled across the bridge, waiting for them. The bridge blocked my view. They had nowhere to go unless he turned around to face them. I doubted he would.

The guy arrived at the top of the bridge. He kept the brim of his baseball cap low, as if it did anything to disguise himself.

“Under the bridge,” I called to the lead singer of Solar Harmony.

Jordan Space glanced at me and then behind him. He had less than a minute to decide to follow me or not.

“You’ll never lose your fans,” I told him. Maybe he thought I was worse than them, but I had never acted like them, and I never would after experiencing it.

Jordan hesitated and asked, “Which way?”

I gestured for him to follow me, then carefully descended the small dead grass next to the bridge, using the side as support.

He hurried behind me, and we hid underneath the bridge.

The screams from the teenage girls sounded closer.

I missed them at my concerts, and jealousy rose inside of me. I had trusted the wrong person, and he took my stage name, Cam. Jordan had fans loving his music. Well, I had nothing, but I didn’t want them chasing me.

Footsteps thudded on the wooden planks.

Jordan pulled me against the underside of the bridge, pressed his body close to mine, and placed a hand over my mouth. His scent of overpriced cologne wafted into my nose.

“Jordan!” one girl screamed.

“Marry me!”

“I’m marrying Jordan!”

They argued until someone announced, “We can all marry Jordan.” They cheered as they finished running across the bridge and hurried away, chasing after nothing.

I didn’t have the heart to tell them that they all couldn’t marry him. If I did, I would reveal our location. Not like I needed to hide.

Jordan took his hand off my mouth and muttered, “Sorry.”

“Yeah, you didn’t need to cover my mouth,” I told him. Annoyance built inside of me, and I pushed it back down. Faced with overzealous fans, he did what any celebrity would: run, hide, or confront them.

“Sorry,” he said again. From the sound of the word, I could tell he didn’t mean it.

“Are you?” I asked.

Jordan opened his mouth and closed it again. “No. I had to get away. Didn’t want to lose my clothes.” He looked down at the ground, bringing his sunglasses to the tip of his nose and tilting his head as he looked up at me in his classic smoldering style.

I rolled my eyes. “Where are your bodyguards?”

“I’m not famous enough for them.”

I told him, “Surely a man consistently ranked among the top five sexiest men since eighteen doesn’t require fan protection.” My voice dripped with sarcasm. If the magazine lacked principles, it would’ve listed him much sooner.

“You know who I am.” His words weren’t a question.

“And I would like some personal space.” I motioned with my hands for him to move away from me. He didn’t need to stand so close that I could touch him. His scent gave me a headache.

Jordan inched closer, twisting his body to gather momentum before rolling backward. His loose designer gray shirt rustled in his wake. “Most of my fans can’t wait to be near me.”

“Who said I was a fan?”

“You don’t like my music?” Jordan asked. His smile faded from his handsome face. He pushed his sunglasses back up, but not before the hurt expression passed through his brown eyes.

I hesitated. Critics’ negative comments about my work always stung, but I had a grown thicker skin. I wished someone would’ve told me the truth. “I preferred your earlier work,” I answered.

“Not now?”

“Sounds like you’re trying too hard. Please don’t make a Christmas album.”

“What do you mean?” He leaned against the wall.

My legs ached, and I did the same on my side. “Singers make a Christmas album to make money or because they fear their careers are dying,” I answered.

“Not about the Christmas songs. Why don’t you like my recent music?” Jordan asked.

I took a moment to answer him. His latest song missed something, and it was like everything else out there.

“With your latest song, Best of Me, someone has sung it before. Why can’t women succeed alone? Why must you tie her to you? Or any guy, for that matter?” I answered. My cheeks heated. My intention included every love song, not solely Jordan’s. He wrote his own music according to the magazine Music Right Now.

“My song didn’t sound quite right, and I couldn’t figure out why. I didn’t want to release it, but I got outvoted by my band.” Jordan ripped off his hat, running a hand through his brown hair. He sported the classic swept back hairstyle popular among boy band members and actors. “Honestly, I should’ve changed the lyrics to something more like Best of You. Do you write music? What’s your name?”

The urge to escape flowed through me, but my exhaustion prevented me from running away. I hated discussing myself after everything that had happened. “You don’t need to know my name.” Like he would remember my name, Cobie Meine, anyway.

“Why not?”

“You won’t remember me, and we live in different worlds. We should go. Your fans will notice they lost you and circle back to find you.”

Jordan frowned. “You’re right, we should leave, but I’ll remember what you did for me, mystery girl. We live on one world unless you’ve discovered another? Should we go together or separately?”

I laughed and rubbed the back of my neck as a plan formed. “I realize you may not be keen on the idea, but we should depart the park together, holding hands. No one will suspect you’re on a date with me.”

“Why not?” Jordan asked me.

“You’re you and I am me,” I answered him.

“You’re beautiful.”

I plastered on a fake smile. “Thanks. We should go.”

Jordan rolled toward me and held out his hand.

I took his hand, and my heart picked up speed a little. Yes, I could verify that Jordan was a heartthrob.

We glided out of the tunnel and followed the path. His clammy hand had calluses on his fingertips from playing guitar. He worked hard. I shouldn’t have told him his songs sucked. I really was a fan of his earlier music.

“Can’t believe this is working,” Jordan whispered.

“I told you no one would believe you were on a date with me,” I reminded him.

“Why wouldn’t they? You’re totally my type.” His hand clenched mine, and his body stiffened as we glided past a group of teenage girls searching. Probably for him.

I half laughed at his statement.

Jordan glanced down at me and motioned with his head.

We steered away from a rather large pack of hyenas. They shrieked and laughed so loud that everyone nearby covered their ears. A few had broken off, making me suspect there might be others.

“This way,” I told Jordan. I tugged on his hand. We needed to find the exit.

Near it, more teenage girls waited. Another group joined them. Had they told others Jordan was at the park? They’d have swarmed him if they had.

Jordan released my hand and braked. He must’ve spotted his fans, too. After I stopped next to him, he pulled me into his arms.

I protested until he touched my face.

“They’re looking over here,” Jordan told me. Of course, he wouldn’t actually want to kiss me. “Thank you for saving me.”

“Thank me when we leave the park,” I whispered.

“Is there another way out?”

“Yes, your fans are probably there, but I may have another way.” I had snuck inside this park a few times after needing a break from touring. Someone might’ve fixed the board. If they had, I would leave him and tell his fans he was somewhere else.

“You don’t need anyone to rescue you.” Jordan smiled at me, and I bet his eyes twinkled underneath his sunglasses.

“I’m my own knight in shining armor.” I had to be after my parents kicked me out. They wanted my money, and since I was no longer their meal ticket, they had no use for me.

“Not me. I’ll rely on you. Why won’t you tell me your name?” Jordan asked.

I stared up at him. “Because I don’t want to be another notch on your belt. Let’s go when your fans aren’t looking.”

“You could never.” He touched the small of my back and pressed me against his chest. “We have an opening; however, I’m reluctant to mention it. I enjoy holding you.” Despite his words, he released me.

I guided him until we ended up behind the bathrooms. I took the overgrown path. We got lucky with the board being loose there. I peeled it back.

“I don’t want to leave you like this,” Jordan said as he bent. He had a hole near the knee of his blue jeans.

“Like what?” I asked, confused. I hunkered next to him.

“Not being able to thank you.”

“You did earlier.”

“Yeah, but I want to give you tickets to my concert or your favorite handbag, or something.”

“I need nothing,” I told him.

“I like you,” Jordan said.

My breath caught in my throat. “Sure, you do. Why didn’t you kiss me?” He had the chance more than once.

“I will on our first date.”

“You should go.”

“You’re not coming with me?” Jordan asked.

“Who else will lead your fans away from you?” I asked him.

“Again, you saved me, and I can’t do anything for you?”

“You can do something for me.” I realized I wanted something else. “Actually, two things.”

“What?”

“Don’t make a Christmas album,” I answered.

“Why not? You don’t like my music,” Jordan pointed out.

“Not now, but I did before.”

Jordan sat up straighter, and he brushed his knee against mine. “What if I make the album for money and never quit making music?”

“Then you’re doing it for the right reason.”

“What’s the second thing?” Jordan asked.

“Only release music you’re happy with,” I answered.

“I had already planned it after our talk. Goodbye, mystery girl.”

“Goodbye, Jordan.”

He squeezed my knee before he climbed through the hole. I was a bit surprised he fit through it, since his shoulders were so broad.

I waited for a minute and stood with my knees cracking. My feet ached, and I needed to remove the rollerblades, but I kept my promises. I rolled toward the center of the park. After getting there, I screamed Jordan’s full name and took off.

He had given me a new perspective on life. I could either stay angry or I could sing like he did, but I wouldn’t forget.

Once I got home, I tore off the eviction notice on my door. It would wait. I searched online for a talent show, any talent show, to perform. One happened next week, and I had enough money for the tram fare. The repo company repossessed my vehicle after I missed a few payments.

If you wonder what Why Do People Suck is about?

Cobie Meine, the world’s top singer, is abandoned by her manager who stole her money, fans, and stage name, Cam, after she decided to remove her mask. Left with nothing but her clothes on her back, she no longer sings until she saves a well-known musician from a horde of teenage girl fans.

Jordan Space leads Solar Harmony as its singer and songwriter. He'll always remember the woman who saved him from his fans, even if she doesn’t like his music anymore. He follows her advice to only releasing songs he’s happy with. Someday, he hopes to thank her.

However, fate, overzealous fans, lawsuits, Cam's impersonator, and the music industry continually drive Cobie and Jordan apart, leaving them questioning why they can't find happiness?

https://mybook.to/WDPS