“Tell me, do you know how it is to be a liar?” He asked, taking a sip of his third glass of whiskey that night. I laughed at his joke. “Of course I do, we have all been a liar once in our life. Even people who have told little ones.”

“No,” he raises his voice slightly, “I mean do you know how it is to be a forever liar?” 

I laughed even more at the ridiculous question he was asking. “There is no such thing as a forever liar because even some lies can be true without knowing.”

He looked at me with the stoic face that he had been while asking these questions. Till a smile started to appear on his face and chuckles.

 “You’re right Boss, you’re right,” he says, finishing the glass of whiskey in his hand. 

Setting it down on the table in front of him, it made an echo in the dressing room fitting in the awkward silence between us. He slapped his hands on his thighs and said, “Well don’t I have a show to do.”

He stands up and walks past me, closing the door behind him. So it was only me and the dressing room. That was the first night that I ever saw the real Damian Fisher. Not the comedian remembered in the worst way. It was the one that no one knew about. Because to this day, I still wish I had known that version more. 

…

The first time I saw Damian, he was performing at a small standup comedy bar that I go to on a normal basis. When he came on it felt like he was illuminating. His blonde hair glowed as the light shined on him, his blue eyes shimmered, and his voice echoed throughout the room full of laughter. The whole audience couldn’t take their eyes off him. From that, I knew he was going to be a star. I have to recruit this guy. 

When Damian was done with his performance. I went straight towards the back area as the next person went on. The crowd was still laughing after Damian’s performance. As I passed by, normal regulars said our hellos and simple conversation. I bump into a taller man putting on his coat. I turned my body right about to apologize. Till I noticed it was the same glowing blonde hair and bright blue eyes staring me down. I pointed at him. “You!”

“Me?” He says pointing at himself and looking at me with utter confusion. “Nah, sorry brunette, you got me mistaken.” 

“No, you! You were amazing. Trust me I have never seen a crowd laugh so hard in my life,” I say, jumbling my words together. 

He looks at me still with wide eyes and an awkward smile. “Thank you.”

Damian slowly backed away from me. Shoot, I’m losing him.

“Let me be your manager,” I blurt out of nowhere. Reaching my hand and grabbing his arm with a tight grip.  

“Excuse me.”

“My job,” using my free hand to find my business card. Touching random pockets. Till I feel the smooth paper. “My job is being a manager for actors. But with talent like yours, I can make an exception for a comedian,” 

Damian makes a tsk sound slowly shaking his head. “Sorry, don't do managers.”

I tighten my grip on his arm. “Just think of it,” I state, puffing out my chest and fixing my posterior, piercing the business card to his stomach. Starring Damian directly in the eyes. “I promise to you. I can make you a star.”

Damian takes the card from my hand. Looking all around the card the front and the back. 

He says to me, “I’ll think about it.”

I slowly loosen my grip. Taking a step back to give him more space.

 “Thank you,” I told him. I turned my back on him. Walking away I still had one more thing to tell him. I yell to Damian over the loud crowd of the bar, “I’m expecting a call from you.” 

When I got outside of the bar and into the city streets. I looked up at the clear night sky. Every star shined on its own. 

I received a call later that night at an absurd hour. I race towards the ring of my home phone. I hated the sound it made. When I picked it up. I angrily grumble, “Hello, who is this?”

“I’m in. What’s the next move Boss.” Damian, I thought. His voice echoed in the room like at the bar. He always had this enchanting voice, between a chuckle and a sarcastic comment. Damian hung up the phone. All I hear is the silence of the other line. 

The nights would go by as I found shows for him to do. It came to the point where he was my only client. Once one critic saw him and so did the others. News got around and soon the people started to learn the name of Damian Fisher. Damian and I only had one shot to make the world know his name. Filmed for them to see. The largest number of fans and critics we have ever had. At the most famous theater in the country. One shot with all eyes on him.

“Where is he?” I yell around the backstage of the theater. 

I strolled all over. I know at times he tends to hide before a show but Damian can’t be doing this now. I looked up and down everywhere. Till I realize there is one place I haven’t checked. I raced up the three flights of stairs. Becoming out of breath after the first. I reach the door pushing it forward slowly. If I made a sound it may scare him. When I entered through the door I noticed Damian by the ledge of the roof.

He had a cigarette in his hand putting it up to his mouth. He turned his head up at the sky letting out the smoke. He hums a song I never heard of. It was sweet. A kind of song a mother would sing to her child to fall asleep. I quietly crept towards him. Making the tiniest of steps in hopes he didn’t notice my presence. When I finally stood beside him I told him in a sarcastic tone, “You know smoking is bad for you.” 

He turns his head down to look at me, with a snicker he asks, “Since when?”

“Since forever,” I tell him, widening my eyes like he should know it. “Or that’s just what my parents told me.”

“Well, my Mom never taught me that,” he says to me looking out into the city. He was about ready to put the cigarette in his mouth. I quickly took it from his hand. When his fingers touched his lips. He had a realization that made a shocked face. I tried to hold in my laugh. He slowly moved his head again seeing me smoke. Looking at me bewildered. “You just said that those are bad for you,” Damian tells me.

“Yeah, but I’m the one who can damage my wonderful voice. Unlike you,” I say back to him.

Damian laughs. He smiles at me. It felt genuine, not the one he put on for the crowd. It was just meant for me.

“You're right boss, you're right,” Damian says to me, putting his hands up like he is giving up. 

There was a moment of silence between us as the city sang its harmony. Filled with car horns, chatty birds, and yelling of anger.

“You go up here often?” I ask him.

“I go up here all the time before and after shows.”

“Cool.”

Silence again. 

“Today is the day. I’m going to finally fulfill my promise. The one I made to you the first day I met you,” I say to him. It feels so unreal that today is the day when all my hard work can pay off. 

“And what was that?” Damian asks me with a half smile. 

That question surprised me. It has been what we have worked to achieve for years. “I promised you I would make you a star.”

Damian’s smile fades away. “I never asked for that.”

He looked into my eyes with a dead face before he turned and stomped away. Opening the rooftop door. Slamming it behind him. So it is only me and the outside world. 

Before I could process what just happened I felt a burning sensation on my fingers. “Aaaahhh,” I shout, dropping the cigarette. 

Rubbing my fingers to make the pain go away. Stomping on the cigarette with my foot till I see no glowing light from it. I stay on the roof for a few more minutes leaning on the cement ledge. Looking out into the city. What's so special about you? 

I eventually went down to the first floor and to the auditorium in a nick of time. When I pushed open the doors the light had already dimmed from a warm glow to complete darkness. Walking down that aisle with a few strange glances.  I wasn’t sure if it was because I was late or smelt like an ashtray. I reach my seat in the front row. I normally sat in the front row. If I get the venue, then I can choose whatever seat I want. The people around me start to clap and cheer. Seeing Damian come onto the stage. He was illuminating. His blonde hair glowed as the light shined on him, blue eyes shimmered. Damian was also dragging a wooden stool. Strange because he has never performed with one before. Damian gets to the middle of the stage for everyone to see him. Here we go. One shot. 

“Hey everyone. It’s you know who. I’m so not ready for this,” Damian projects his voice into the room. However his voice wasn’t right, it sounded like it was full of worry, shaky. “I’m telling you right now I have never been in a place like this before. My mother said our blood wasn’t good for it. But I’m here now.” 

The crowd gives a small laugh thinking it was a joke going to lead to a better one. Something is wrong, I thought.

“I would love to tell her grave that I made it,” Damian continues, “This is how today’s show will work. I say something and you're supposed to laugh at the lie because who knows what the truth is anyway.”

 I move my head side to side seeing the confused reactions of people’s faces.  This isn’t Damian. The rest of the show will be a blur. As he rambles on. There was shouting and aggressive hand movements as he told the truth, doing it all with a grin on his face. Second by second, my leg bounces more. Stuck in my seat, forced to stare at Damian. At one point, Damian picks up the wooden stool and throws it into the crowd. Milliseconds after there were screams from the crowd as the stool landed on some people on the right side. By this time the security guards have come in grabbing him by the arms, shoving and pushing him off the stage. Damian repeats over and over, “I have more to say. I have more to say. I have more to say!” 

His voice faded away as he was taken off the stage. Then the speaker will shout, “I’m sorry right now we need to take a break. Please stay in your seats. Repeat, please stay in your seats. Paramedics are coming to check on those who have become injured.” 

Chatter starts to go around the seats. But I had no time to listen to it. I needed to talk to Damian. I quickly stood up calmly, left the auditorium, and went backstage. 

Where is he? I ran around backstage. Looking in every dressing room. Asking every person. I ran everywhere. I yell his name each time getting louder, “Damian. Damian. Damian. Damian!” 

‘I go up here all the time before and after shows’ 

I hear a whisper in my head, the roof. 

I ran up those stairs at full speed. My chest starts to hurt as barely any oxygen comes to my lungs. The stairs feel never-ending. When I reached the door, I sprinted towards it. Pushing the door like I was trying to bring it down. When I land on the roof, I see him. Damian. A sense of relief came to me. He was walking on the rooftop ledge. It was a thick cement block that had to be a foot wide and four feet tall. He had his arms out, stepping at a time as if he was on a tightrope. I could hear Damian singing, 

“Of the moon, of the moon. 

I dream of you every night. 

Of the moon, Of the moon—”

“What was that?” I shout across the roof, finally getting the courage to interrupt him.

He didn’t answer my question, he instead asked me, “Don’t you just love the stars?” Turning his head up at the starry night sky, a small smile grew on his face. 

“What are you even talking about?” I say back to him rubbing my eyes from irritation, I can’t with this guy. 

“You know I always wished to be a star,” he says looking up at them with a bright smile slowly fading away, “but I knew I would be too selfish wanting to be the moon instead.” 

When he finished his sentence I froze. My body tensed up, I couldn’t even move my mouth. I stumble on my words, “How…how much have you had to drink tonight?” 

“Enough,” he nonchalantly answered my question. 

I repeat, “How much have you had to drink tonight?”

Raising his voice the same as the first time I saw the real him, “It was enough.”

He finally stops walking on the border of the roof. Damian looked frozen for a second. He turned to face me. With a smirk on his face. “It was enough.”

“Then answer me when I ask you what I just saw,” I yell to him. Taking one step at a time moving closer to him. My legs started to shake as I heard his answer. “It was me.”

“That was not you.”

“Then it was the real me.”

“Then be the fake you. I know you lie on stage but I never thought it would be a problem. People are wasting their money on you. So when you get on that stage you have to be whatever the crowd wants you to be.” I was disgusted by the words that came out of my mouth. 

“You know, if I take one more step soon people will forget the name of Damian Fisher,” Damian paused for a second. “I mean you saw how they looked at me. They thought I was a monster. Even you. Come on, I saw that look in your eyes. It was full of fear. That your product was failing.” 

Product? He was no product, he was everything. Damian put his hand on his chest grabbing onto his neat dress shirt with a firm grip. “I thought I could trust you. I thought you were different. I thought you understood me. I thought you—”

“Can you just get down,” I cried. “You're scaring me.”

“See that was the look. That’s how you looked at me,” he states pointing at me with a smile of the insane. 

“Can you just get down?” I yell again, tears almost coming down my eyes. “It’s just going to be bad news for a week.” 

I repeat one more time. “Can you just get down?”

He stares at me. Till his eyes started to widen realizing what he was doing. Then his act starts again. His voice changes back to calm and collected and a fake warm smile appears on his face. “You're right Boss, you're right.”

He jumps down from the ledge. Landing on his two feet on the roof ground. Coming closer to me, placing his hand on my shoulder. Moving to my slick-backed hair messes it up. Damian hesitates to wipe the tears that have now fallen down my cheek. “Come on, let's go back to the hotel.” 

He walks to the door. I hear a click and slam. Leaving only me and the stars above. 

We never talked about what happened on that night. Everything went back to normal. People did talk about the mess-up show. The news exaggerates it. But even after the news got around the people still enjoyed him. But there was always something in his eyes that seemed Damian never loved this line of work. Damian and I both knew he would never be happy as a star. Damian was a liar fit for the stage, doing what he does best.