She was as poor as they came, a matchbox girl as they called her, living at the sides of gangster-ridden streets, winding her way through life by begging. It was a sorry sight but there was no way out. Her father was taken from her when she was just a tiny tot and her only other breadwinner, her mother died in a car crash 3 years ago leaving her with no one to support her.

He was a famous celebrity, a hunky rock star whom millions of women adored. The screaming was far beyond loud once he granted the stage his presence. Women were scavenging his thrown clothes until by the time they got a hold of it, it was tattered beyond recognition.

‘Taylor come and get your breakfast’ a very fussy mother beckoned out from the kitchen below. He rubbed his eyes and gave himself a well waited for stretch, his body aching from the 11 hour nap he had. He woke up to his black satin sheets and gold-framed mirror, which he admired himself in every morning. His sexy deep set glassy blue eyes, which had ever changing qualities in colour, chiseled jaw line, perfectly heart-shaped face and who could deny falling in love with that cute button nose.

‘Taylor, get your breakfast before it gets cold. Everyone has finished theirs’ came that naggy mother of his again, deafening Taylor. Even though she came from a floor beneath and her small exterior argued otherwise, she had an inner strength that projected though her every yell. He made his way down after 1 final flip of his comb afraid to hear another one of her complaints for coming down late and taking as long as a girl to get ready.

‘Wow, you’re up early’ his sarcastic mother eyed him from the corner of her eyes as she continued busying herself that morning with the cookies baking in the oven for tea.

The whole gang was seated around the table. Zoe had all her food thrown everywhere except her mouth. The bib she was wearing looked like it was made of the apple struddle she was eating, entirely covered in it like the big red apple monster had thrown up all over her. Avery and Jessica were playing a game of see who can make the biggest mess. Orange juice was dripping off the corner of the stained tablecloth, unaware by everyone except him. And broken pieces of toast and bits of scrambled eggs were thrown as far as the other end of the table where no one was sited. But this was as old as history. Everyday it was the same thing until 1 day Diana shut up with the food fights and let nature take its course while she busied herself with something more controllable.

‘Uh so where’s my breakfast?’ Taylor asked when he saw the leftovers of what looked like sausages and bacon on his plate. He looked up only to be greeted by 5 cheeky guilty grins excepting the baby. It was excusable for the younger ones but he was astounded by the childishness of his 2 siblings of which were constantly referred to as his peers in front of millions of viewers.

‘It’s Okay, we’ve got to get going anyway, DON’T WE?’ he stressed his annoyance as he gave a hard stare at both his brothers. ‘Uh, right-O’ Zac said as he rose from his seat and caught the edge of Ike’s sleeve and pulled him up from his smashed meal which he had been playfully picking on.

‘Dad says we’re holding another show in Oklahoma City in a few days’ Taylor informed. ‘Another 1? Didn’t we just do one 2 days ago?’ Zac said puzzled by the inconformity in scheduling that their father was usually rigid about. ‘Yup, but this ones for charity’ Taylor enlightened as he turned the knob to his keyboard, fine tuning it for the big day. ‘We have these once in a while. He says us being Christians, donating as a part and parcel of the give and take process’ Ike added his take on the situation. The others just nodded robotically and returned to setting up the instruments.

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