Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 88586 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88586 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
After two radio spots, three shows, a press conference, and an epic meet-and-greet in Austin, we were all ready for a little downtime. We huddled around high tables at a dive bar on Sixth Street, listening to a grizzly bear of a man sing twangy covers of top-ten hits on a battered six-string. I tapped a beat against the glass in my hand and took in the scenery while the guys chatted about the press conference Charlie had organized earlier that day.
The reporters were hungry for information. Some of it was music oriented. Who are your influences? When is your next release? Do you plan to record any songs with Jealousy? But a lot of questions were personal. Who was gay, straight, bi, single? Did we travel with our girlfriends or boyfriends? Did we hook up on the road and if so, how often? Basically, a bunch of shit that was none of their business.
And yes, one reporter asked Dec if there was any truth to the rumors about him and the drummer from Zero. Charlie had anticipated it and gave instructions on how to answer that particular question.
“Don’t answer. Smile, wait a beat, and then say, ‘Next,’ ” he’d advised.
Dec did as he was told. However, his smile wasn’t an ordinary smile. It was a mischievous lopsided grin with a bit of steel behind it. A nervous twitter flitted around the room. The reporters held their cells high while I held my breath.
“Next.”
I sighed against the wall with my arms crossed, blown away by his poise and freaked out by my lack of composure. Why was I so fucking nervous? We hadn’t done anything wrong. Our game of cat and mouse was innuendo-based speculation at the lowest level. The slightest tease to spark interest and sell a hint of story to bring attention to our music. It was a page out of Sebastian’s handbook.
But if it was a game, I kinda sucked at it. Thank God I wasn’t in the spotlight.
“Was that ‘press conference’ fake?”
Justin spared me a sideways glance as he bopped his head to the beat. “Define fake.”
“Not real,” I deadpanned.
“It was half fake, half real. Charlie orchestrated it. He invited his contacts and suggested questions. They peppered in a few of their own. Two were legit music writers, but the other four were social media hounds.” Justin sipped his beer, then turned to face me. “This business is weird. Everything is half fake. The only thing that’s real is the music and the fans. The rest is puppetry. Charlie’s pulling strings behind the scenes to get us noticed. And I want to say it’s fucked, but it’s reality. Everyone is screaming into the void, waving their arms, hoping someone hears them or sees them. The ones who are heard and seen give pieces of themselves in the process. This whole tour is a social media blitz. Have you checked Zero’s Instagram and Twitter accounts lately?”
“No, I hate that shit.”
Justin grinned. “I get it, but we’re blowing up…in a good way. I’d prefer to have fewer photos of my dog and my boyfriend online, but personal shit is what it’s all about. We’re all voyeurs. Thus…you and Dec. How’s that going?”
“Fine, I guess,” I replied casually.
“Hang in there, dude. I know this isn’t your thing. You have a few days to chill. Enjoy the calm before the next storm. What are you gonna do? Stay in Austin or go to Vegas?”
“I might go home,” I lied, feeling like an asshole when Justin nodded in sympathetic understanding. I thought about clarifying that my mom was doing well, but it was easier to let him think what he wanted than tell him the truth. Ahh, maybe I was on to this social media BS. “What about you?”
“I’m meeting Gray in Vegas. I’m on the same flight as Ky and Char, but we’re staying at different hotels until the band meets up on Saturday. Johnny’s taking the Vegas bus. I don’t know what the Jealousy guys are doing,” he replied, gesturing toward the group gathered around the dart board in the back of the bar. “They might not want to go anywhere soon.”
Oh, to be young, drunk, and stupid. Bobby J was making out with a pretty blonde in cowboy boots and painted-on jeans while Gill and Frank were chatting with a cute brunette. And Dec was with—
“Hey, I know that girl. The one hangin’ all over Dec. Penny, Polly…Petra! She’s the reporter or a music critic. The one I spilled a drink on at that vodka party a few months ago.” I squinted in the semidark as though that might help me get a better look at her.
“Holy crap. I gotta meet her. C’mon. We have to find out what Dec is up to.”
I grabbed Justin’s sleeve. “Hang on. He’s not ‘up to’ anything.”