Songbird

by Jamie Campbell

  As usual, I was the last on the bus. My band, Demi, and Ryan were already waiting. They were huddled around in some in-depth discussion. When I took my seat, I heard the big conversation was about how many times they had each been to the Statue of Liberty.

  “What about you, Brier, what’s your number?” Ace asked, including me in the conversation.

  “I’m a Liberty virgin, I’ve never been,” I confessed. I had been to New York hundreds of times, but never got a chance to actually go sightseeing. The inside of studios and concert venues was the extent of my Big Apple experience.

  “Never been? That’s like against the constitution or something,” Ace replied, pretending to be scandalized by the notion. I laughed, Ace was crazy. He had been with me from the beginning, even when hardly anybody was booking me. He was just like a brother to me now.

  They continued on with their discussion of all the landmarks of the city. I purposefully avoided looking at Forest, I didn’t want him to catch me staring at him, it would be too awkward. If we both forgot about the kiss, we could pretend it never happened.

  As the bus barreled down the highway, I put my ear buds in and turned on my iPod. I settled in for the ride, denial was a wonderful thing.

  Chapter Seven

  Boston was a pretty city, so old and historic. Everywhere I looked there were college students sharing coffee and reading. It had a great atmosphere, one that beckoned to just sit and relax. Unfortunately, I would be doing none of those two things.

  The journey had taken longer than expected due to an accident on the highway. As a consequence, I was already running late for my engagements. Demi was in a panic, calling everyone on my schedule to let them know. My job was much easier than hers, I just did as I was told. She actually had to do the telling.

  Within twenty minutes of the bus crossing the city limits, I was sitting in a radio station, large earphones covering my ears, and a shiny silver microphone positioned in front of my mouth.

  The shock jock, Big Randy, was introducing me. He was a little grumpy for the delay. “And with me now is pop sensation Brierly Wilcox who is performing in our humble city tonight. Welcome, Brierly.”

  “Thanks Randy, it’s so great to be here,” I said happily, trying to maintain a positive tone of voice. I had to be happy and bright or people didn’t buy tickets, according to Demi anyway. She always threw in some statistics to make it sound believable.

  “So what can our listeners expect from your show?” Randy asked, not even looking at me. Clearly he was not a fan. It was a bit disconcerting.

  “We’ve got everything, from amazing wardrobe to special effects. I’ll be singing all their favorites as well as some new songs from my latest album. It’s almost two hours of fun and entertainment. I’m so excited about it.”

  “Great. Last time you toured you were dating Braydon Foster and we all know how badly that ended. Any boyfriends we should know about this time?”

  His eyes shot up to meet mine. I smiled sweetly, hearing Demi’s voice in my head telling me not to be baited into anything controversial. They wanted a reaction, that’s how they made it onto the six o’clock news. It was my job to make sure that didn’t happen.

  “I’m happy to report I’m completely single. I’m focused on the music and my fans right now. I don’t have time for anyone else in my life.”

  “Oh, come on, with so many eligible bachelors around? You can’t tell me that tour bus doesn’t get lonely.” What was with this guy? Did he want me to lay out my sex life for all my young fans to hear?

  I laughed, hoping it didn’t sound as fake as it felt. “All my energy goes into making sure my fans enjoy the concert. I usually sleep on the tour bus.”

  “Sleep, right.” He rolled his eyes and looked away again. “So your new album dropped two weeks ago. The reaction so far has been mixed. What do you say to your critics?”

  “Like any art, music is subjective. As long as my fans like it, that’s the main thing. I don’t listen to the critics.” I searched through the window for Demi, hoping she would call a time out if the interview continued down that road. Clearly Big Randy wasn’t going to give a balanced interview. He was looking for his YouTube five minutes of fame. I definitely wasn’t going to give it to him.

  “You don’t think the critics have a point? They said every song had already been done before, there was nothing new and special about your album.”

  Where was Demi? I was starting to burn under the intense spotlight he was shining my way. “My songs are true to my style. They’re what the fans expect and they are how I express myself. Nobody, especially critics who are not musicians themselves, have a right or privilege to pass judgment on that.”

  “Oh, tough words from a girl who won her chance to be a musician.”

  I didn’t even blink, I’d heard it many times before. “I may have won my first recording contract, but I was a musician before that. Being signed to a label doesn’t instantly make you a musician.”

  Finally, Demi appeared at the window – with a half-eaten donut in her hand. She waved at Randy and then pointed at her watch. “Okay, well, that’s debatable but I guess we’ve run out of time. Thank you for visiting us, Brierly. I hope your show goes well tonight.”

  “Thank you, Randy.” I pulled off the headphones and left, not even bothering with the pleasantries that usually followed an interview. He would probably make sure none of my songs got any airtime while he was behind the microphone.

  Demi rushed me out the door, thanking everyone as we went. At least she was good with all the formal stuff. I used to be, but the longer I was in the business, the less I wanted to care about any of it.

  We didn’t stop for the few people that were waiting outside the station. I wanted to but Demi’s grip was too strong on my arm. She pulled me into the waiting car and we sped off.

  “That was a nightmare,” I moaned. “Can you imagine saying things like that to another human being? Let alone live on the radio?”

  “He’s trying to get his ratings up,” Demi replied, patting my back in comfort. “I’m sure nobody was listening to him anyway. You did a really great job of answering the questions though.”

  “You think?”

  She nodded. “You’re getting back to your old self.”

  That was what I really needed to hear. Perhaps I wasn’t making such a big fool out of myself like I suspected.

  We drove straight to the concert venue and Demi did her usual tour through the corridors to reach the dressing rooms.

  “Where have you been?” Ryan demanded as soon as we were in sight.

  “Radio interview,” Demi replied.

  “Well, missy,” he continued, pointedly staring at me. “Now we don’t have time for sound check. Your band did it in your absence and your earpiece appears to be fine. Get your butt into costume because we need to get this show on the road.”

  “But sound check-”

  “Is something we don’t have time for,” Ryan finished my sentence. “Five minutes to curtain.”

  I wanted to curse Big Randy and his entire radio show. I knew a lot of our time was actually lost in the traffic, but I couldn’t exactly curse the guy who was probably lying on a ventilator because of his car accident on the highway. I was sure Randy was tough enough to incur my wrath.

  Demi grabbed my dress and I slid into it. Within seconds, the sound technicians had wired me up and a guitar was thrust into my sweaty hands. So much for warming up or a show circle.

  Before my head could stop spinning, I was hurrying out on stage in the dark, my ears filled with the sound of my excited screaming fans.

  In the dark, I could just make out Forest, standing with a guitar right where he should be. His profile was illuminated from backstage, it took my breath away. Why did he have to be so good looking? Especially when I needed to focus. What was the first song again?

  A single light flashed, signaling the spotlights were about to come on. The show was going to start, with or without me be
ing ready for it. I stared at the floor, shaking out my nerves. Everything would be perfect tonight, it just had to be.

  The spotlights came up and my presence was revealed to the audience. They went nuts, which gave me the boost I needed. I couldn’t say for sure, but it didn’t look like there were any empty seats in the auditorium. At least not big blocks of them, anyway.

  The first set went smoothly. We got further into the show than we did the previous night without having any hiccups. However, halfway through a particularly big song, I completely lost sound. I couldn’t hear a thing over the crowd, not one thing. The band, the backup singers, they were all drowned out by the mass of teenagers screaming.

  I looked backwards at my team, trying to get some help like I had opening night, but they seemed just as confused as I was. I couldn’t go on, something major had happened. It didn’t look like it was just my earpiece this time, everyone was having the same problem.

  I stopped, unable to continue singing when all we sounded like was just a bunch of noise. Even while screaming, the audience would still notice.

  “Sorry guys,” I said to the audience, putting my guitar down. I looked at the band and gave them a quick cut it signal. The entire place went quiet. Deathly quiet. “Sorry to interrupt, it seems like we’ve got a little bit of a sound problem. I’m sure my crew will have it fixed in a minute.”

  Thousands of faces stared at me as I stood there awkwardly. Once, I would have improvised and done a little acoustic with nothing but my guitar. Now all I could do was freeze up.

  It felt like forever passed. I kept looking toward my crew, waiting for the thumbs up. Big Randy would have loved to have seen my failure, I’m sure he’d have a lot to say about it tomorrow on his show. From Star to Zero, the downfall of Brierly Wilcox. The headlines would be unbearable.

  Finally, I got a thumbs up. I put my earpiece back in. “Okay, folks, sorry to keep you. It seems like the problem should be fixed. Can I get a test from my band?” They each tried a few notes in turn, they came through the piece crystal clear. “Excellent, now let’s start from the top.”

  Ace counted us in on his drum kit and the lights went down again. We started the song over, hoping to be able to finish it this time.

  By the end of the show, I was even more upset about the incident. Problems happened all the time in concerts, everything could go wrong. The difference was that most performers didn’t let the audience know about them. By stopping and waiting for the problem to be fixed, I was proving what a poor performer I was. I was letting the audience see through the magic and that was a definite turn off for them.

  Backstage, I was hysterical. “Demi, why do we keep having these problems? People are going to stop coming, it’s going to be all over the internet.”

  She grabbed my arms to stop them flailing about. “It’s just a minor thing. The sound can go at any time, you know that. These things happen to everyone.”

  “But nobody else would stop. I just froze up, in front of everyone. They’re all going to know how terrible I am. I don’t even deserve to be on that stage.”

  “Brierly May Wilcox, you listen to me,” Demi said sternly. She certainly had my attention, nobody used my middle name except my mother. “You are human. Full stop. Things happen.”

  I didn’t believe her. Things didn’t happen to me, I made sure of it. I did everything with perfection so that things like losing my sound never happened.

  Demi somehow coaxed me out of my dress and got me back to the hotel. It was one of the last few nights we would actually be able to stay in a hotel so I should have been grateful for it. The problem was, I was beating myself up too much to care. I didn’t deserve a hotel, I should have just slept on the bus. Or the street.

  Alone in the room with only my misery for company, there was only one thing to do – go online. I trawled through my fan message boards, desperate to see what they were saying about my shows. I needed to hear they had a good time but I feared they were only voicing their disappointments.

  Some performers only checked their reviews with entertainment reporters. But not me, I didn’t care what snobby adults said with their jaded view of the world. I only cared about my fans and they were going to be my true critics. They were my target audience, the people I didn’t want to disappoint. All the industry professionals had probably seen more concerts than I had nights in my own bed.

  There were a few threads going in the message boards, one for New York, one for Boston, and others for venues I hadn’t yet played. They were buzzing with activity, especially the Boston one.

  I scanned through the discussions, like an alcoholic staring through the window of a bar. I both yearned for the comments and was disgusted that I was doing it. Still, I had to know, I couldn’t live another minute without knowing.

  The comments were mixed. A few thought I had seen better days, a few thought it was the best night of their lives. One post mentioned my sound problem but added it was fixed after a few minutes. Had it really only been a few minutes? It felt like an hour to me.

  According to one girl, she thought I looked terrified. I wondered if that was for the entire show, or just while the sound was gone? During the show, I hadn’t felt right because of the rushed start. However, my discomfort could have been for the whole thing.

  I was tempted to login under the alias I used all the time on the boards but I was interrupted by a knocking on the door before I could. Planting some glowing comments on the boards would have to wait a moment.

  I expected to see Demi on the other side of the door, checking in on me. She was more stringent than a babysitter. Yet standing in the doorway was Forest, holding a bottle of wine.

  Chapter Eight

  “I don’t drink anymore,” I said, leaning on the doorframe and refusing to budge. It took all of my resolve to be so resolute.

  “Good, I don’t have any glasses,” he replied. “Are you going to let me in?”

  “I don’t think I should.”

  “Is the problem that you don’t trust me… or you?” He flashed me the smile that made me go weak at the knees. My God, there was something about him that was irresistible. If I could work out what it was, I would bottle it and never have to work again because of the profits.

  “Maybe it’s both?” I replied, except it sounded flirtier than I had intended.

  “I guess I’ll be drinking alone then,” Forest said before turning. He only got two steps away before I called him back.

  “Come on in,” I sighed. “I’m too uptight to sleep anyway.” I moved to let him pass and he settled on the plush coffee colored lounge suite. He wasted no time in opening the bottle and taking a swig. I sat beside him, far enough away not to be tempted. If that was even possible. He wasn’t in groping distance, anyway.

  “So do you have a reason for drinking tonight?” I asked, curious what had brought him to my room.

  “We’re on tour, it’s tradition, right?” He held out the bottle for me. I shook my head, I was already bordering on the brink of insanity, I didn’t need to be drunk too.

  “Maybe if we were a rock band.” I shrugged. “About last night, I didn’t-”

  He cut me off with a wave of the bottle. “It’s okay, I get it. You were after some fun, I was there. But just because we made out one time, I don’t see why we can’t be friends. It doesn’t have to be all weird and stuff now.”

  I relaxed, perhaps I wouldn’t have to avoid him for the rest of the tour. “I wasn’t just looking for some fun, for the record. I like you but I’ve been with guys like you before and I got burned. I don’t think I can do that again.”

  He gave me a lopsided grin. “Getting burned is half the fun, it’s how you know you’re alive.”

  “It’s how you know your heart can break,” I countered. I wasn’t a teenage groupie that could be won over by a few little rebellious statements. I was smarter than that, at least I hoped I was.

  “What’s the point of living if you’re not living on the edge?”
/>   “It’s safer away from the edge, somewhere in the middle.”

  “But not as much fun,” Forest continued. He was beginning to make me wonder what we were talking about in the first place. “So what makes me so bad anyway?”

  “Because you’re the kind of guy that attracts trouble, you probably have a woman in each city, and you know how gorgeous you are. Those three things are a deadly combination.”

  “It must be hard knowing it all.” He stared at me while taking another long sip from the wine bottle. “But you don’t know me.”

  “I know your type.”

  “And you got all that from just looking at me?” Forest was challenging me, raising one eyebrow. “Is that why you stood me up at Flannery’s?”

  It was embarrassing being called out on my actions. I had hoped he would forget about it. “Sorry about that, I had my reasons.”

  He leaned in close, I could smell the alcohol on his breath. Oh how I missed the days when that was me – not caring about the consequences and just having fun. It was destructive, but I never found myself alone in my hotel room scanning message boards.

  “If anything,” Forest started. “I think you are the one that is breaking hearts, not me.”

  I guessed he was right. He hadn’t done anything to me and yet I had rejected him twice. If we were keeping a scoreboard of wrongs, I was definitely the leader.

  He held out the bottle for me again. This time, I took it. I downed a gulp of the white wine, it felt so good sliding down my throat. I took another and forgot all about what I was supposed to do.

  The next morning, the alarm pounded in my head like a sledgehammer. I reached over and turned it off in a panic, desperate to stop the infernal racket. I knew I had to get up but I didn’t want to leave the comfortable bed.

  I turned around, hoping to maybe get a few more minutes in. However, I wasn’t alone. Staring back at me was the handsome, sleeping face of Forest Knight.

  I sat bolt upright, desperately trying to remember all the details of the night before. We had been talking, then drinking, then… what?