Hating the Rock Star

by Hamel, B. B.

  I laugh softly. “Thanks. I really appreciate you worrying about me.”

  “Joss, you know what I mean.”

  “No, I get it.” I shake my head and walk away from her.

  I grab a beer and sit in the corner as the guys start mingling with the girls that are already hanging around. I just ignore everyone, not interested in getting into it right now.

  Unfortunately, Karl will not be ignored. He gets right into my line of sight and stares at me.

  “We gotta talk, kid.”

  I shake my head. “Nah.”

  “Joss.”

  I sigh. “Nathan rat me out?”

  “Yeah, he did. Threatened to quit.”

  “What’s new?”

  “Nothing.” He glares at me. “You’re still a dick.”

  I bristle at that, but he’s not wrong. And now I’m blowing Grace off too. “What do you want?”

  “Come talk to me. It’s important.”

  “Fine.” I get up and follow him out of the room. I catch Grace looking at me, a worried expression.

  Another thing to be pissed at myself for. I should never worry her.

  Karl takes me a little ways away from the green room before turning on me. “It’s about the girl,” he says, taking me off guard. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

  I stare at him, not sure what to say. “Are you talking about Grace?”

  “Yeah, I’m fucking talking about her.”

  “I thought this was about Nathan.”

  “Fuck Nathan.” He waves his hand. “He’ll get over it. I’m more concerned with you losing your goddamn mind.”

  I don’t even know what to say.

  I can feel annoyance start to push up against my skin, threatening to bubble over.

  “What do you want, Karl? I have to prep for a show.”

  He grins at me. “Prep for a show? You mean, sit around and drink beer until we tell you to go on?”

  I clench my jaw. “I’m about to lose patience.”

  “Fine, fine.” He sighs, holding up his hands, his garish gold watch and gold rings glinting in the light. “It’s about the girl.”

  “You mean my wife.”

  He grunts. “Yeah, her.”

  “What about her?”

  “She’s a problem.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “I thought you were over this whole Yoko Ono bullshit.”

  He waves that away. “I don’t think she’s going to rip this band apart. If anyone’s going to do that, you’ll do it all on your own.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  “Look, kid. I’ve been in this business a long time. I’ve seen bands come and go, and I know what I’m talking about. You guys are teetering on the edge.”

  I look away from him, down at the grungy carpeting. I know I can’t deny it, even if I want to. I know we’ve been walking on the knife’s edge for a while now, barely getting along with each other, barely stomaching it when we’re all together.

  It’s mostly me and Nathan, although Landon’s not helping. Chase is actually the only sane one out of the group, but he’s too passive to really take control and make us all get our shit together. I try to hold it all tight, but I don’t think I can.

  Not with Nathan hating me. Not with Landon going insane. Not with my own fucking issues.

  Tension, pressure, all directions.

  “There are rumors.” Karl says it flatly, but his eyes never leave me. “Whispers online.”

  “What kind of whispers?”

  “About you and Grace. About your little wedding.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “I thought you were keeping a lid on it?”

  “I’m trying, kid, but you know how it is these days. And with the amount of fucking groupies you guys let in the green room, it’s like fucking my own fucking tail.”

  I frown at him. “So we cut back on the girls.”

  “And risk Chase and Landon flipping shit?”

  “What do you suggest?”

  Karl sighs, leans up against the wall. “Get rid of Grace, Joss.”

  I glare at him for a second as anger ripples along my skin. “Fuck that.”

  “She’s a liability. You have to realize it.”

  “She’s not going anywhere.”

  “Even if she’s not the reason for you guys coming apart, she’s one more catalyst, one more stress. The rumors are happening, Joss, and sooner or later you’ll have to deal with it.”

  “Fuck it. Who cares if the world knows?”

  “Maybe she does,” Karl says. “Ever think about that?”

  I hesitate a second. I hadn’t considered what she wanted. Of course I hadn’t. I’m a selfish piece of shit, after all.

  “It doesn’t matter,” I say finally, annoyed with myself.

  “Of course it does. Or do you not give a shit about her?” He arches an eyebrow. “If that’s the case, get rid of her. We’ll find you a new toy.”

  I clench my fists. “She’s not a toy.”

  He nods slowly. “Even worse.” He sighs and steps closer. “Listen to me. The girl is a problem, and I need her to go away.”

  “She’s not going anywhere,” I practically growl at him.

  “If you don’t do it, I will.” Karl doesn’t back down, doesn’t break eye contact. This is what I like about him and hate about him. “The girl’s going, whether you like it or not.”

  “Don’t threaten me.”

  “Don’t fuck up your fucking career, you idiot.” He finally backs off. “Make it happen. Tonight.”

  Without another word, he walks off, and I’m left standing there, staring after him.

  How the fuck does he think he can threaten to get rid of Grace like that? If I want her around, she’s going to be around. Fuck this tour, fuck this band. I’m not doing this shit if my own manager is going to be threatening me.

  I go back to the green room, raging on the inside. I grab another beer and sit myself in a corner, ignoring everyone that tries to bug me.

  Except Grace. “Are you okay?” She sits down in the chair next to mine.

  “I’m fine.”

  “You look pissed.”

  “Karl’s just being a dick again.”

  She frowns a little. “Your manager, right? What’s wrong?”

  I sigh, not sure how I can even explain this to her without sounding like a bastard. I don’t want to shove a spike in the heart of this but I suspect telling her our manager wants her gone will do exactly that.

  “Nothing,” I say. “He’s just being a controlling twat.”

  She frowns at me, but doesn’t push. I lean back and sit in silence, not wanting to open my mouth. I’m seething, so fucking angry, and I’m afraid I’ll say something stupid if she gets me talking.

  I hate that the bastard threatened me like that. I don’t know how he thinks he can threaten to throw Grace out like that, like I don’t fucking matter, like she doesn’t matter. He’s an arrogant fucking bastard.

  We’re called out for soundcheck, and that goes smoothly. Grace hangs out near the side of the stage, watching as we run through the songs. I stay focused, ignoring her, ignoring everything around us. When we’re done, it’s back to the green room for some more bullshit.

  The minutes slip past. I can hear the crowd outside in the theater, practically rumbling the walls as the place slowly fills.

  “Packed show tonight, boys,” Karl says, giving me a look. “Better keep it tight.”

  Everyone’s getting giddy, that pre-show excitement running like electricity, arcing between everyone.

  It only makes me angrier.

  Every second I sit there, slowly sipping a beer and staring off into space, causes me to feel more and more pissed off. I’m angry at what everyone wants me to be, at Karl threatening me, and at the fact that I can’t seem to keep myself from fucking everything up.

  I’m angry. I’m pissed as hell. Sometimes I wish I could be as free as Landon and just smash shit when I get upset. Sometimes I even
wish I could be as unfeeling as Nathan.

  Instead, everything stays internalized.

  “It’s go time, boys,” Karl calls from the doorway. We all stand and look at each other.

  It’s fucking go time.

  “You okay?” Grace asks me softly.

  I nod at her. “I’m okay.”

  “Good luck out there.”

  I stare at her for a second and suddenly a decision clicks inside of me, like a relay suddenly switching open.

  “Stick near the stage,” I tell her. “Somewhere close.”

  She nods. “Okay. I’ll be there.”

  “Good.”

  I turn and walk away, joining the other guys. Landon has his usual nervous energy and I try to feed off that, trying to get myself as spun up as he always is.

  We walk out onto stage and the crowd explodes.

  It never gets old. The screaming, the cheering. We take our positions, but before Landon can count us down for our first song, I grab the microphone.

  “What the fuck is up, New York?”

  The people go insane. Nathan stares at me before glancing back at Landon. His drumsticks hang in the air. He’s supposed to count us down to get everything started, but I’m going off script.

  It feels right. I know I’m doing the right thing.

  I can’t let Karl take her away.

  “I don’t normally do something like this,” I say to the crowd, my voice projected a thousand feet tall. “Normally we dive into the music, because who the fuck cares what I have to say, right?”

  Crowd goes insane. Bastards.

  “But here’s the thing. I did something recently, something huge, and I want to break the story myself, my way.”

  More cheering, more screams. I look over to the wings and spot Grace. Her eyes are wide, her mouth hanging open.

  “I got fucking married!”

  The crowd erupts. The guys are staring at me. Nathan looks sad, Chase looks shocked, Landon’s laughing madly.

  Grace is blinking fast, her mouth hanging open.

  “I got married to a beautiful woman named Grace Carter!” I shout at the crowd. “Why don’t we bring her out so you all can meet her? Do you fucking want that?”

  The crowd screams. I look back over to the wings, trying to spot Grace again, but she’s gone.

  She’s gone.

  I turn back to the crowd. “Maybe not. She’s shy. Landon, let’s play some fucking music, eh?”

  Landon counts us down and the song starts as the guys drift into the set, bodies moving based on muscle memory.

  But I’m staring off to the side, off to where Grace was.

  Blinking her eyes. Mouth hanging open.

  Shit.

  13

  Grace

  I wasn’t famous before I met Joss. I wasn’t anybody. I got maybe a few calls a week, a few texts a day. I had friends, family. That sort of stuff.

  I wasn’t famous until I married Joss.

  My phone won’t stop ringing. Ten minutes after that insane announcement, I get like fifty calls. Some of them are from reporters, and those I just hang up on. My mom calls me, my dad calls me, friends call me. Even my freaking cousin calls me, and I barely talk to her.

  My social media blows up. Hundreds of people follow me on Twitter. Hundreds more friend me on Facebook. Even my Instagram gains followers, and I never post on it.

  In the space of ten minutes, my whole freaking life blows up.

  I can’t stay at the show. I leave as fast as I can. Karl meets me as I’m hurrying away.

  “Come on,” he grunts at me.

  “Excuse me?” I glare at him, blinking tears from my eyes.

  “You wanna get outta here?” he grumbles at me. “I’ll take you to the hotel where the guys are staying.”

  “Screw that. I want to go home.”

  “Home?” He laughs, shaking his head. “Way too late for that. You never should’ve married a rock star, sweetie.” His face softens a little bit. “Come on. I’ll take you to your room.”

  I follow him, not sure what else to do. I have my credit card and I guess I could go buy a plane ticket home, but I can’t bring myself to do it. I could barely afford it anyway.

  Besides, I don’t know what would happen to me if I ran away now.

  Karl flags a cab and we get in the back seat. The venue is packed but fortunately the traffic isn’t bad. The hotel is just ten minutes away, practically around the corner in New York terms. It’s tall and glass and modern. Karl rides up with me on the elevator.

  “Did you know he’d do that?” he asks me softly.

  I shake my head and glare at him. “Do I look like I knew?”

  “No.” He sighs. “This is probably my fault.”

  I hesitate a second. “Your fault?”

  “I get a little… intense sometimes. Especially with Joss.” His eyes narrows. “The kid just doesn’t listen to me, no matter what. I’m looking out for him, trying to keep him relevant, but does he care?” Karl sighs, clenching and unclenching his fists.

  “What are you talking about?” I ask him.

  He sighs, relaxes a shade. “Joss has always been pretty level-headed. Oh, the kid has his vices, pussy chief among them, pardon my French.” He gives me an apologetic look but continues. “He’s the glue that keeps this little group together, even if that shit with Nathan won’t ever seem to go away.”

  “What does this have to do with me?” I ask him, inching away.

  He doesn’t seem to notice. “You’re making him irrational. You’re distracting him. These long, important tours are all about keeping focused. It’s easy to travel from place to place, play the songs, get fucking paid, and go home. The hard part is keeping your goddamn mind occupied and involved. Otherwise, you wander off into sex and drugs and a million other self-destructive habits.”

  “You think I’m going to cause them to do drugs?”

  He gives me a look like I’m an idiot. “You’re a distraction. I get it, you didn’t know him before, but I can already see the cracks forming. I guess it’s my fault, threatening him the way I did, but…”

  The elevator stops, the doors ding, and they slowly slide open.

  I frown at him as we step into the hallway. “You threatened him?”

  “To send you away. And I still might fucking do it.” He glares at me for a second and sighs. “I know, I know, it’s not your fault.”

  “Yeah,” I say softly.

  “You didn’t know he was going to pull that shit up there, did you?”

  “No,” I say firmly. “I would’ve told him not to.”

  “Good.” We stop outside of a door and he uses a keycard to unlock it. He opens it and lets me step inside. It’s a nice room, but pretty basic.

  “Thanks for bringing me here,” I say.

  “The guys are staying nearby.” He doesn’t follow me into the room. “Just so you’re aware.”

  “Got it.”

  He watches me for a second. “Nothing personal, you now that, right?”

  “Sure.” I hesitate a second. “But it is personal, right? I mean, he picked me. He married me. I just don’t know why.”

  “Don’t ask me. Never could understand these fucking rock star types.” He shrugs and slips out, shutting the door behind him.

  I sit down on the bed and stare down at my phone. Twelve missed calls, twenty texts, more social media notifications. It just keeps vibrating. It takes me a few minutes but I finally work up the nerve to silence it completely.

  I’ll talk to people in the morning. I’ll explain to my mother, my father, all my friends. I don’t know what I’ll say, but I’ll say something.

  I want to go home. That’s all I really want. I don’t know why Joss would announce this fake marriage to the entire world like that, but there’s no taking it back now.

  I’m so angry, but really I’m just exhausted. I crawl onto the bed and manage to get my head on a pillow before staring up at the ceiling, suddenly so tired that I can’t fall
asleep.

  He should’ve asked me first. This was never part of the deal. I said I’d come along on the tour, and at the end he’d divorce me. We never discussed telling people anything about this. We never discussed anything.

  He just does whatever he wants, the freaking bastard.

  I don’t keep track of time as I stare up at the ceiling, my mind a raging mess of conflicting emotions. I want to scream, I want to cry, I want to disappear. I can’t even imagine what people are saying about me, and I really don’t want to know.

  I feel like such a pathetic moron, and it’s all Joss’s fault.

  But the more I think about him, the more conflicted I feel. I keep coming back to that kiss, that incredible kiss back in Philadelphia. He looks at me like I’m the only person in the whole world, and his lips tasted like honey. I want more of him, so incredibly badly. It’s just stupidly complicated.

  Nothing’s ever simple with a rock star.

  A knock at my door pulls me from my self-pity. I glance at the clock and am a little startled to realize that it’s after midnight. I must’ve fallen asleep after all, and as I sit up, my bedhead pretty much confirms that fact.

  I stumble to the door after a second knock and pull it open. Joss is staring in at me, his eyes sunken and haunted.

  “You ran off,” he says.

  I try to slam the door in his face but he pushes his hand against it.

  “Let’s talk. Please.”

  “Go away, Joss.”

  He just looks tired. “Please, Grace. I should’ve asked you first, I know—”

  “That’s right, you should’ve,” I say to him, feeling my anger coming back, along with my tears. “But instead you got on stage and you told everyone we’re married. Do you know what you did to me?”

  “I didn’t think,” he says softly. “I knew I should’ve asked, but I didn’t think—”

  “You didn’t care,” I snap. “I know Karl threatened to send me away, but you couldn’t let that happen. You’re so selfish, you’re willing to do anything to get what you want, aren’t you?”

  His eyes are so hollow, I feel like he barely hears me. “Grace, that’s not what I meant. I was trying to keep you around. I’m just so sick—”

  “I’m so sick of this,” I snap at him. I suddenly push past him, out into the hall.