“Are you sure?” Porter asked dubiously.
“I’m very confident. You guys weren’t doing drugs or vandalizing property or breaking any laws. So, I can figure out how to work the PR so that this keeps Serotonin Sindrome in the limelight without damaging the band’s rise to fame.” Cooper flashed me an interrogative look. “Are y’all doing alright though? The thing I’m most concerned about is honestly the invasion of your privacy.”
Porter kinda sagged against me, and I wrapped an arm around his shoulders.
“I’m…completely overwhelmed,” Porter confessed.
“Yeah, I get that,” said Cooper. “Were you out already?”
“Oh, yeah…I mean, to everyone who matters,” said Porter. “My family and roommates and everyone already know that I’m bi. I never kept it a secret or anything. That’s not what I’m worried about, really.”
“What would you say is your primary concern?” Cooper asked. It was kinda funny, because the words coming out of his mouth were Manager Cooper words, but the tone was Cousin Cooper all the way.
“I don’t know…I guess I just don’t know how to deal with the whole world talking about me. I get overwhelmed pretty easily,” Porter said. “And I’ve never even considered that I could be part of a…a…scandal of this scale.”
“Yeah, that’s fair,” said Cooper. “I will do everything I can to protect you, okay? I’m not some corporate douchebag who prioritizes money over the well-being of the people I work with.”
“Okay,” said Porter, letting out a sigh of relief.
“I just need you to tell me what you need,” said Cooper. “Do you think you can do that?”
Porter shrugged. “I can try. I’m honestly not sure what I need right now.”
My heart was kind of breaking, listening to him stumble through that conversation. And I felt like a total asshole for being excited about what this media attention could mean for the band. But he had a good point, you know? I had signed up to have people gawk at me and gossip about my life and send me obnoxious messages on social media. But Porter hadn’t. Up until I wandered into that bar where he was working in Seattle, his life was poised to be perfectly ordinary. He hadn’t anticipated the scrutiny of the entire internet, and I had dragged him into it. All because I was totally high on endorphins and wanted to grind on him at a popular club.
Shit shit shit.
“So, what’s the plan?” I asked, tearing myself away from my maelstrom of thoughts. “How are we going to keep Porter away from all the fans and stuff?”
“Well,” said Cooper, “there are a couple of options. Obviously, Porter, if you feel like you need to step away from the tour, I can help you with that.”
“Wait,” I said, turning to Porter. “Is that what you want? To leave?”
Fuck, it hadn’t even occurred to me that he might just want to bounce. I tried to imagine finishing the tour—which had only just begun—without him by my side. My heart ached.
But Porter, oh my dear Porter…if he needed to go, I wasn’t going to tell him to stay. I couldn’t do that to him.
“No,” he said at once, surprising me with his forcefulness. It almost seemed like he had surprised himself as well.
“You sure?” Cooper asked.
Porter nodded. “I want to be here. I just…don’t know what I should do. I don’t want to freak out or whatever because it gets to be too much.”
“Well, here’s what I’m thinking,” said Cooper. “Nobody seems to have figured out that you’re involved with the tour, so that works in our favor.”
“Okay,” said Porter.
“So, I’m planning to set up an interview with a major publication or radio show. Maybe a podcast, we’ll see who bites. So, Levi is going to talk to them, mostly about the tour and the album and stuff. But we’ll make sure they ask about the photos—I can make sure they ask in a way that works to our favor—and he can say something that makes it clear that he’s not ashamed but isn’t interested in discussing the details of his dating life.”
“I like that,” I said. “Do you think that will keep them off Porter’s back?”
Cooper shrugged. “I can’t say for sure. There are going to be crazy fans and paparazzi who don’t give a shit about the boundaries you’re trying to set, but that’s always going to be true. Hopefully this will shift the mainstream media attention back to the band and away from Porter.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I said.
Beside me, Porter shifted slightly. “It’s worth a shot.”
Once Cooper was gone, I pulled Porter over to the bed and began coaxing his shirt off of him.
“I’m not really in the mood for sex,” he said, his voice flat.
“I know, baby,” I said. “I was thinking I could give you a massage, to help you relax. Does that sound nice?”
He nodded, his posture slackening as he stripped down and rolled onto his stomach. I was wearing one of his t-shirts and my favorite pair of flannel pajama bottoms—the air conditioning was blasting, which it turned out was how Porter liked to sleep, so I was wearing goddamn flannel in June—and there was something uniquely intimate about being fully clothed while he was naked.
I grabbed a little bottle of lavender-scented lotion from the nightstand and poured a liberal amount onto my palm. Then I rubbed my hands together, warming the lotion.
“I wanted to tell you something,” I said quietly as I began to knead at his shoulders.
“Mhmm?”
His face was squished in a pillow, his voice muffled.
“I know we have, like, a ton of external shit going on around us that’s impacting our…relationship or whatever you want to call it.” I found a knot just at the base of his neck and began working it gently, willing it to loosen. “But the things I’m feeling for you…well, they’re big. And serious. And have nothing to do with the fact that the world knows we’re together, even though they haven’t figured out who you are.” The knot seemed to melt away beneath my fingers. “I like you so much, Porter. And I want you to know that I’m going to support you no matter what happens with this whole thing. Alright?”
He made an affirmative sound. My hands moved to another tense spot beneath his left shoulder blade.
“I hope this isn’t too much for you,” I continued. I had to take a deep breath before finishing my little speech. “I hope I’m not too much for you. Because I have a gut feeling that we could have something really spectacular if you’re willing to stick it out with me.”
He turned his head to the side so that I could hear him more clearly.
“I’m so glad I’m not the only one who feels it,” he said softly. Then he flopped back into the pillow.
I must’ve rubbed his back for an hour at least. I worked away every little bit of tension I could find, and when that was done I just let my hands drift over his warm skin, feeling kinda awed at the fact that he was mine to touch. Mine to care for. Mine to love.
Well, shit.
I loved him.
Cooper worked some goddamn magic and managed to score me an interview with Carolyn Fitzpatrick, renowned music journalist for PunkWire. It actually worked out really well, because our next show was in Pittsburgh, where PunkWire was based.
I had only ever heard Carolyn’s voice on the radio and various podcasts, but I had never seen a picture of her. I don’t know what I was expecting, but she was goddamn beautiful. I’m talking fantastic bone structure, stunning blue eyes, dark wavy hair that cascaded halfway down her back. She was wearing a red jumpsuit and blue canvas shoes and had the sweetest smile. I wanted to be her best friend.
She served me fucking cookies—fresh out of the oven, chocolate chip cookies—while she tested levels and got everything set up for our interview. Once the equipment was ready, however, she was right down to business.
“So, Levi, thank you so much for joining me today,” she began.
We were sitting in insanely comfortable chairs, and I bounced slightly in mine.
“Th
anks for having me,” I said, my stage persona peeking its head out.
“It’s always exciting to get the chance to interview a musician I’ve been listening to on my commute every morning,” she said brightly, and I crinkled my nose at her.
“Oh, come on, you probably say that to all the boys,” I said.
“You would think, but I’m actually telling the truth,” she said with a smile. “I try to keep an eye on the pop-punk artists that are up-and-coming. And you, my friend, have an insane amount of talent.”
“I really appreciate that,” I said, all composed and shit. If I hadn’t been in performance mode I probably would’ve been fucking swooning.
“So, let’s cut to the chase,” she said, and my stomach clenched. But instead of asking me about Porter, she said, “James Descartes blew up Twitter with his praise for Serotonin Sindrome earlier this week. You must be over the moon.”
“I am, yeah,” I said. “Dalton and Eddie and I found out just before our show in New York City that he was in the crowd. Our manager told us right as we were getting ready to go onstage.”
“That’s nuts,” said Carolyn. “Were you flipping out?”
“Not externally,” I said. “I mean, there’s kind of a mindset that I go into when I’m performing that’s separate from my normal self. If that makes any sense at all.”
“Oh yeah, I’ve heard a lot of musicians say that,” said Carolyn.
“Cool, I’m glad it’s not just me,” I said with a laugh. “But yeah, once I finished the show I was freaking out. I mean, it’s not every day that James fucking Descartes is watching you. And he actually came to our show because he was already a fan.”
“That must have been really gratifying to hear,” Carolyn said.
“It was,” I said with a smile. “And it’s been amazing to see how much his commendation has affected our popularity. I’ve been obsessively checking the number of plays on our most popular songs on pretty much every streaming app, and they’ve increased tenfold in just a couple of days.”
“Wow,” said Carolyn. “How does that affect you in the here and now?”
“Well,” I said, biting my lip, “it makes me really fucking excited. Oh shit, am I allowed to curse?”
“I’m not complaining,” Carolyn laughed.
“Right, uh, so I’m obviously stoked. But I’m also really…I don’t know how to say it exactly. Humbled? I guess? That so many people are engaging with our music. It makes me realize how lucky we are to have the opportunity to reach an audience of such huge proportions.”
“Was this something you expected when you found out you would be touring?” Carolyn asked.
“God, that’s tough. It kind of goes both ways, you know? Like, I dreamed about this, but I definitely didn’t expect it to happen. I wanted it so badly, but I had no idea if I was going to be one of the lucky ones. Because there are a million bands out that there could totally dominate the charts, but for whatever reason they don’t have a chance to get any significant exposure.”
“Have you encountered any of those bands while you’ve been working on your career?” asked Carolyn.
“Oh, for sure,” I said. “I’ve been to a ton of house shows or open mic nights where artists just blew me away, and then I looked them up online and they have twenty plays on their songs. One of the things I’m actually looking forward to if Serotonin Sindrome gets really big is the chance to promote some of those groups.”
Carolyn smiled at me, all straight white teeth and gentle eyes. “That’s one of my favorite parts of my job as well. I’ve been able to help a lot of people get some traction as they’re starting out, and it’s always gratifying to see them go viral.”
“God, yeah, that sounds amazing,” I gushed.
“How did you go about launching your career?” Carolyn asked.
“I was actually really lucky,” I said, “because our manager is my cousin. He’s been working for Pigeon Kiss Media out in LA for almost a decade, so when I started making noise about becoming a professional musician, he was able to tell me what I needed to do in order to have a fighting chance.”
“Has he been your manager for long?”
I shook my head. “He wasn’t going to just hand us a contract, that’s for sure. He gave me tips, even helped Dalton and me find a place to stay out in LA, but then he said to hit him up once we were in a position where his company would consider offering us a contract without his influence.”
“He wanted you to work for it,” said Carolyn.
“Exactly. Nobody wants to manage a band that expects to have everything handed to them. So, the first thing Dalton and I did was set out to find a drummer. Eddie was a perfect fit, so from there we launched into playing gigs at any bar that would take us. We worked our asses off for months, and then we sat down with Cooper and asked him to formally recommend us for a limited touring contract.”
“And Pigeon Kiss Media offered you one right away?” Carolyn asked.
“Nope,” I said. “They had a whole laundry list of things we needed to do before they would invest that kind of time and money in us. So, it was back to work for another few months. It took quite a long time before we actually signed any paperwork with them.”
“It sounds like you’re pretty well prepared for the challenges of being a touring musician,” she said. “Did you ever resent having to put all of that work in?”
“Not at all,” I told her. “Honestly, I was grateful for it. I want to be the best at what I do, and that takes a ton of work. It’s not all sex, drugs, and rock’n’roll. It’s a hell of a lot of work, and I’m proud to be able to say that I did that work myself rather than riding on my cousin’s coattails.”
“What do you find the most challenging at this point?”
We had discussed this before the interview—she was giving me an opportunity to segue into the photo issue myself rather than being asked point blank. I was grateful, but also super nervous. I mean, goddamn, I was about to tackle the issue that required the most delicacy out of anything she might ask me during the interview.
“Honestly?” I began. “It’s the lack of privacy.”
“Are you a particularly private person?” she asked.
“Not really. I’m an open book, I always have been. But there’s a difference between not hiding things, and having people stick their noses into your business uninvited.” I swallowed thickly before continuing. “Earlier this week somebody took pictures of me with another man at a club in New York.”
“What was your first thought when that happened?”
I sighed heavily. “There were a lot of thoughts going through my head. First off, I was confused about why anyone would bother to spread that photo around. I’ve never hidden the fact that I’m gay, so I didn’t see the scandal in dancing with a man. But I was also frustrated by the fact that someone was being thrust into the limelight who hadn’t volunteered for that. I’m trying to become a famous musician—a certain amount of gawking comes with that. But the man in those photos with me is not famous. He’s not somebody who has stepped into the public eye willingly.”
“Have you spoken with him about this?” asked Carolyn.
“I have. And I think it’s important to drive this point home: he is not somebody who would have chosen to be the center of the internet’s attention. He’s a wonderful man, and he deserves his privacy. I would like to respectfully request that the media move on to gawking at someone else.”
“I really appreciate you saying that,” said Carolyn. “I think a lot of times people feel like the celebrities and musicians they love kind of belong to them somehow, and they forget that these are real people. And so often random people get caught in the crosshairs of the media just because they were interacting with someone famous, and it can wreak a lot of havoc in their lives.”
“Oh, absolutely,” I said. God, Cooper definitely picked the right person to conduct this interview. “I’ve always found it really annoying when people act like they have a right to
know about someone else’s life. I’m happy to share pretty much anything about myself, but I’d much rather share those things myself than see them splashed across a headline.”
“Is there anything else you want to share before we wrap up?”
“There is, actually,” I said. “I’m really excited to have the opportunity to tour the country, and I’m looking forward to meeting fans from all across the United States. Tickets are pretty much sold out for the rest of the tour, but we’ve reserved a few VIP tickets for several major cities. We’ll be selling them exclusively on our website beginning at midnight tonight.”
11
Porter
Various Cities
Pittsburgh was a blur for me. I mostly hid in the hotel, trying to keep away from any rogue fans that might try to track us down. Whenever I had to the leave the room, I wore sunglasses and a baseball cap. It was like being in witness protection, disguising myself and freaking out every time I had to go somewhere.
I didn’t go out with Levi or Eddie or Dalton. Their popularity was only rising, and I didn’t want anyone to see me with them and make the connection that I was the man from the club. I mostly spent time with Cooper, or skulking by myself. I read three books and cleared out my email inbox. I ached for Levi when he wasn’t with me—and more often than not he had an obligation outside of the hotel.
There was his radio interview, a couple of press conferences, some record company party. And all I wanted, the only thing that could have made me feel better, was him. But how could I ask him to push aside his obligations for me? His career, the thing he had dreamed of for his entire life, was blossoming. I watched his dreams come true and tried to forget that I was living out my worst nightmare.
Philadelphia was not much better than Pittsburgh. I was too afraid to go out and explore on my own, but I was starting to get stir crazy. One hotel room or another didn’t make much difference…I was trapped by four small walls, stuck staring at ugly pastel prints and wondering when the comforters had last been washed.
The Limelight Page 13