The Pop Star and the Child Prodigy

Angie’s beautiful, angel face, softened and misted by camera filters, with its own million dollar smile – a cute, slightly shy smile – flashed across the small screen of his phone. He allowed himself to contemplate that image for a moment, before pulling back, nervous, tightening his jaw.

He should have had his own children by now, if he had not been married to his career. If he had his own children, perhaps he could be more sanguine about Angie, or at least that was what he tried to tell himself. “After this tour, after this tour,” he thought to himself – after this tour he would finally have to focus on his non-existent love life. He must not keep telling himself that career was more important or cling to Celia who was clearly now never coming back. This oddness, this obsessiveness he was feeling about Angie, this was due to his neglecting his own need for love and family, or at least that was his thinking.

He tried not to think about how aroused he was becoming, looking at Angie’s picture. As painful as the memory of Celia was at this moment, he tried to focus on it instead, and the keepsake in his pocket.