Oreos for Breakfast: Chapter 28

Oreos For Breakfast: Chapter 35
By the Paperbag Princess and Pumpkin Coach

Were the Billboard Music Awards the most bogus awards in the world or what? They were awards for chart positions. It's not like you didn't know the winners already. No one even voted.

They said people voted by buying albums.

I wouldn't know. I was just here because it was a big publicity cluster fuck and I needed the publicity.

At least it was in Vegas. I liked Vegas. Vinnie was off losing my money while Cynthia led me from interview to interview.

It was funny, how when you were waiting to be interviewed by Us, there were copies of Us in the waiting room.

I never used to have to wait.

I picked up the nearest copy and flipped through it, looking for anyone I knew.

I guess normal people didn't look at Us for people they knew, did they? That's probably why Us had the 'They're Just Like You' section, which was celebrities doing really boring things.

Rachel loved to joke about that, when we were shopping or seeing a movie or something, that we'd end up in Us. We never did.

But, look. She got there with her normal fucking boyfriend. I guess that was it. You didn't get to be 'just like' anyone when both of the couple were famous.

Rachel and… Ben? Ben Lawson. At least that's what the caption said. Rachel and Ben were Christmas shopping. That was normal.

I'd never seen Rachel look that good when we shopped. Those few weeks when we were both in New York recording, we'd shop all the time, go to Chinatown or the Village, and she'd wear jeans and sneakers, and no one would recognize us.

In this picture, taken on Fifth Avenue- we'd never gone to Fifth Avenue. She didn't like Fifth Avenue. Too upscale. She liked little weird places in the Village.

Anyway, she was on Fifth Avenue with her new boyfriend, who must have money, and she was wearing high boots and a little skirt and a sweater, holding Ben's hand, and he had a bunch of bags in the other.

She never wore skirts with me. She didn't like skirts. She liked jeans. Jeans were more rock-n-roll.

Now she looked like a New York girl, all fashionable and pretty and happy with her new fucking boyfriend.

"Nick?" Cynthia said. "They're ready."

"Great."

Backstage at the Awards was insane. Every time I turned around, I saw someone I recognized because they were famous, not because I knew them or anything. I kept wanting to say hello to people, but I didn't know them.

I would not find a girlfriend here. I needed a normal girlfriend. Or maybe not. Because Cori was crazy, and she had seemed so nice. Famous people couldn't be secretly crazy.

Could they?

"You've got like ten minutes, Nick." Anna said, and I hugged her.

"What?" she asked, her voice muffled because I was squeezing her.

"Why can't you be my girlfriend?"

"Because it would fuck up the band, dude. Were you reading Us magazine today?" I let her go with a pout, and she laughed when she saw my expression.

"We'll find you another nice girl, Nick."

"But Cori seemed nice, and she was crazy."

"True," Anna admitted. "But you never let me check her out. I could have told you she was crazy if I'd met her."

"Okay," I promised. "You get to check out any girlfriend candidates."

"Nick!" a familiar voice called, and Anna and I both turned to see Paris making her way over to us.

"I hate her," Anna said out of the corner of her mouth.

"You need to get to know her. We'll go out tonight. She's nice."

"There's nothing to-"

But she didn't finish, because Paris had joined us. Paris… she'd be good. She was a nice girl, even if she did have this habit of dancing on tables. And she didn't need anything from me, because she had way more money that I did. That was good. I liked that.

And we'd be all over the media, and that would drive Rachel insane.

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