a short story about adam levine part 6
Adam Levine lay in bed at 2:30 AM as his roommate, Gene, screamed in the living room. Gene had broken a glass and couldn’t find the broom. Adam and Gene didn’t have a broom. Gene didn’t know this because Gene was drunk. Adam could get up and help him but Adam could also do a lot of things. He rolled over and hugged his pillow tight to his chest. Adam had smoked a joint and watched a few episodes of Saturday Night Live earlier but he stopped a few hours ago feeling that he really ought to go to sleep. The problem was Adam couldn’t sleep. It had been a long time since Adam had slept without the aid of booze and Xanax. He was trying to get into better habits. So, tonight Adam lay awake regretting smoking weed, wondering why he smoked weed in the first place, because all it did was make him uncomfortable in his own skin.
Adam often wondered why the socially acceptable form of courtship was going to an overpriced bar and having a few drinks with a stranger as they assessed if they wanted to bang each other or not. Sometimes a girl would say something Adam didn’t like such as “Why would you want to drink a 40 on your porch?” or “I love the website College Humor!” and Adam would immediately dismiss them. He told himself that not everyone could be like him but deep down he wondered: why couldn’t they?
Adam wished he could get to know a girl without the pressure of sex and intimacy. Adam couldn’t face rejection in any form. Adam got upset when girls he didn’t even like in the first place rejected him. It sent him in a tailspin of calling them at 5 AM until they broke under his overwhelming fame. Adam genuinely felt that everyone ought to like him and if they didn’t he would make them like him. This was how he woke up in bed next to some model named Irina last night with a pounding headache and a profound sense of remorse.
Adam had read in a fucking gossip magazine of all places that Miranda Lambert had told Blake that he was a “bad influence” and that Usher was a “great role model.” He knew it was probably a lie but Miranda was such a horrible bitch that it might be true. Adam liked to think he had a good head on his shoulders. So what if he and Blake sometimes snorted ADHD medication before the battle round episodes of The Voice? Who didn’t? He had to keep on his toes and he had a disease, okay? He and Blake were prescribed to ADHD medication. So what if he wasn’t technically supposed to snort it. You only live once. Miranda was just a judgmental whore. He hated having dinner with her because after his second glass of wine she would go “Oh! Another? Really? Don’t you have to drive home, Adam?” Adam was a fucking millionaire. He’d call a car if he had too much to drink. Jesus fucking Christ. If there was something Adam couldn’t stand it was when people were passive aggressive. Usher a great role model? Usher had fucked every single intern on the show and insisted he shouldn’t have to wear a condom because it felt like “slapping a Big Mac wrapper on his dick.”
Gene was calling Adam’s name now. He had just been in the bathroom vomiting up the nice French meal Adam had treated them to earlier. Adam lay motionless in his bed feigning the deepest sleep he could muster. If he got out of bed he knew he would never go back to sleep and Adam detested the thoughts he had after 2 AM. After he was sure Gene was passed out on the bathroom floor he opened his laptop and navigated to the “Adam Levine is so hot” facebook page and flipped through various pictures of himself shirtless. At least somebody loved him unconditionally.