“Do not test me today!” SSG booms. “If you do not step back, you will be dealing with an angrier version of me. You do not want to be dealing with an angrier version of me.”
A few girls in front of me have become instant friends. It’s awesome how intense experiences like this can bond you for life. They’re bragging about how early they got to the Today show to stand outside and get a chance to see Ethan before he went in.
“I got there three hours early,” says a girl with a pink streak in her hair.
“I got there four hours early,” tops a girl with a Strand bag.
“How close were you?”
“This close.” She pulls out her phone and shows off a picture with Ethan.
“Did Ethan take that?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh my god he touched your phone?”
Strand Bag smiles smugly.
A girl wearing two mati necklaces whips out a CD.
“What is that?” Pink Streak asks.
“A bootleg. Some acoustic stuff Ethan recorded like two years ago.”
Scenarios like this are common at Ethan’s shows. Some superfan throws down authority when anyone else dares to suggest they have a stronger connection to Ethan. Showing off swag is their way of arguing over who’s the number one fan.
“Where did you get it?” Strand Bag demands.
“A used CD place on South Street.”
“I’m going to have Ethan sign this again.” Pink Streak shows a signed 8-by-10 glossy of Ethan.
“You already met him?” Mati Necklaces freaks.
“No, I won it through his fan club,” Pink Streak says.
“You whore,” Strand Bag seethes.
The gate pops open a few inches. A truck is positioned to drive out.
The crowd goes ballistic.
“Step back!” Scary Security Guard yells.
No one steps back.
“Back behind the green line! Step. BACK.” Scary Security Guard’s tone has taken on a primal edge.
Everyone steps back.
The gate slowly swings open. The throng of fans restrains itself from stomping over Scary Security Guard and four more security guards lining the other side of the gate in a stampede of passion.
Because there he is. Ethan Cross. Playing basketball in his board shorts and his T-shirt with the old-school speakers that says MUSICIAN for everyone to see.
“I love you, Ethaaaaaaan!!!”
“Yo, let me play wit you, E!”
“I am burning with desire. This will be our night on fi-YAH!”
I go around to the back gate. Ethan doesn’t see me when I pass by and open the stage door. He doesn’t know that Damien’s waiting for me backstage.
37
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A reporter from The New York Times Magazine has been following Ethan around since Philly. The reporter is doing a huge cover story on Ethan. He told me that he’s most interested in identifying what it is about Ethan and his music that appeals to such a wide audience. I get the feeling he’s hoping to discover a secret formula for monumental success.
The formula is obvious. Looks + talent + kindness = massive appeal.
The reporter rode with us on the tour bus from Philly to New York this morning. He’ll be at Ethan’s Madison Square Garden show tomorrow night. But tonight it’s just me and Ethan. Tonight is all ours.
Ethan presses me back against the tinted window. One entire wall of his hotel room is a floor-to-ceiling window with privacy tinting. You can see out, but no one can see in. His room is the penthouse of a boutique hotel. We’re on the eleventh floor. High enough for privacy. Low enough to hear the screaming fans outside.
“We love you, Ethan!”
“Come to the window!”
“Ethaaaan!”
Ethan slides his fingers through my hair. He kisses my collarbone. My neck. My cheek.
I try to block out the screaming.
“Marry me, Ethan!”
“Come to the window!”
“If they only knew what we were doing,” Ethan says.
He kisses me hard. The screaming fans are momentarily drowned out by a police siren.
“Are you sure they can’t see in?” I ask.
“Positive. That’s the beauty of the blackout feature. Famous people stay in this room all the time and no one ever knows.”
Usually no one knows which hotel Ethan is staying at. Zeke always makes reservations under random names. Someone obviously leaked the info this time, though. The hotel warned Zeke that a crowd of fans had already formed earlier this afternoon. People were posting about it online. Zeke offered to put Ethan in a different hotel, but he wanted to stay here.
Now I know why. Ethan thinks this is hot.
He presses up against me. He puts his hands around my waist and pulls me tight against him. He kisses me even harder than before.
This is how Ethan is when he wants me. On fire. The same way he is with everything else he wants.
Of course I want him, too. I want to be more into this. It just doesn’t feel like we’re alone. It’s like all those fans are here in the room with us. And Ethan’s two bodyguards are right outside in the hall.
I glance at the door.
“Relax,” Ethan says. “No one’s coming in.” His hands go under my shirt. His kisses get more urgent.
“I love you,” he whispers in my ear.
“I love you,” I whisper back.
“I LOVE YOU, ETHAN!!!” a fan screams.
“This is too weird,” I say. I pull my shirt back down.
“Don’t focus on them,” Ethan says. “Focus on me.”
But I can’t. All I can hear is the screaming. Reminding me that I can’t even be alone with Ethan when we’re alone.
38
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It’s amazing how, if you’re a fan of routine, you can slip so easily into a new routine no matter where you go. I’ve only been to a few of Ethan’s shows and tour life already feels familiar. Staying at insane hotels. All Access passes around my neck. The rush of watching Ethan perform for thousands of fiercely loyal fans. I’m only going to one more show after this. But of course there will be other tours. Lots of other tours.
Tonight is the big Madison Square Garden show. Ethan is surrounded by a million people backstage. His crew is asking him questions and Aixa is holding jackets up for him to choose and everyone is shoving paraphernalia in front of him to sign.
“Ethan!” a gorgeous blonde girl shouts. She has an entourage of three girls with her. The other girls are pretty, but this gorgeous girl blows them away.
“Hey, Marion.” Ethan hugs her. Then I make the connection. She’s Marion Cross, Ethan’s cousin. He told me she’d be getting backstage passes tonight. Ethan waves me over to meet Marion.
“I’ve heard so much about you,” Marion tells me. She’s even more gorgeous up close.
“Good to meet you,” I say. “You live here, right?”
“Yeah, in the West Village. Do you know that area?”
“Ethan had a show there a while ago. But I want to go back. It’s such a beautiful neighborhood.”
“It really is.” Marion looks around. “Is Damien here?” she asks.
My heart sinks. “You know Damien?”
“Zeke said I could ask for him to show us around. Since this one’s too busy for me.” Marion indicates Ethan by circling her finger in the air with attitude.
“Sorry that some of us have a show to do,” Ethan teases back.
“That’s okay. We came to see some hotshot rock star anyway. See you at Christmas, loser.” We watch Marion teetering off on her outrageously high platform heels in search of Damien, her entourage trailing behind.
“So that was Marion,” Ethan sums up.
“I noticed.”
Every guy Marion passes practically breaks his neck to keep watching her for as long as possible. Two stagehands are falling all over themselves to help her with whatever she’
s asking them.
Normal rules don’t apply when you’re that gorgeous.
The reporter from The New York Times Magazine is lingering at the edge of our thank-you circle to observe. All the key players who work so hard putting Ethan’s shows together hold hands in a circle right before every show starts. Ethan says a few motivational words to everyone. They all get psyched for the show. I’m included in the circle, standing next to Ethan.
“This is the Garden,” Ethan says to everyone in the circle. “Welcome to the big time. Ladies and gentlemen, we have arrived.”
Whoops from the circle.
“I can’t thank you enough for everything you guys have been doing to make this tour a success. Liz, you rule for busting my ass every day. You are relentless and magnificent. Zeke, thanks for always having my back, man. Aixa, not only do you make it possible for me to look like a real rock star, wardrobe malfunctions are no match for you. Thanks for your grace and insight. Drew, Stefan, and Gage . . . you’re the best band mates I could ever hope for. Thanks for tearing it up like a beast every single time.”
Drew and Stefan look excited for the show. But Gage doesn’t. The glare of resentment in his eyes is hard to miss. Right before Marion arrived, Ethan and Gage had a huge throwdown in Ethan’s dressing room. I was there. I saw the whole thing.
When Gage busted in, I was sitting on the couch trying to resist eating the entire box of Jacques Torres chocolates Ethan’s mom had sent.
“Can I talk to you?” Gage asked Ethan.
I got up to go.
“No, stay,” Ethan told me. “Whatever Gage has to say, he can say it in front of you.”
“Fine,” Gage said. “I want to play a bigger role in the band.”
“How?”
“You know how. I want some of my songs added to the set list. Maybe just ‘Aluminum Rain’ to start. Being your backdrop is getting old. I want more cred as a musician.”
“And if we don’t play your songs?”
“Then I’m out.”
I couldn’t believe Gage was threatening to leave the band. He plays keys for Ethan Cross. Did he know how many people would kill for that opportunity? The same opportunity he was totally taking for granted?
“Are you really going to let your jealousy spiral out of control so much it kills your career?” Ethan asked.
“My career isn’t over. Not by a long shot. I’m just getting started.”
“Not if you walk out on us. How do you think a rep as a quitter will benefit your career?”
“People will support me for standing up for what I believe in. I want more for my life than to be a backup nobody. I should be in the spotlight, same as you.”
“You could get there if you had a more positive attitude like Drew and Stefan. They’ll be successful for years to come. They’re loving the attention. You know how many girls want to hook up with them. And you. Why are you acting like no one knows who you are?”
“The number of people who know my name is nothing compared to you.”
“Are you going to spend the rest of your life comparing yourself to me? Why isn’t what you already have good enough for you?”
“Because it isn’t!” Gage yelled. “When guys like you switch band members, most people don’t even realize anything changed. Only the most hardcore fans care. Most people don’t know my name. And at this rate, they never will.”
Ethan shook his head sadly. “I feel for you, man. I really do. But you need to focus on appreciating what you have instead of being miserable about what you don’t. You’re being set up for life here. What you’re building now could make you happy forever.”
“No. What you have now will make you happy forever. I’ll still be living in your shadow.”
Since Gage is standing right here in the thank-you circle, I guess he decided not to walk out. Yet. But it leaves a huge question about what’s going to happen to the band after this tour ends.
Ethan finishes his thank-you circle speech. “Everyone else . . . you are the ones who make all of this possible. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.” He squeezes my hand. “Bring it in.”
Everyone stacks their hands in the center of the circle. Together we chant, “One . . . two . . . three . . . forever!”
My seat is at stage left. That’s where friends and family sit at the Garden. The performers enter and exit stage left, right in front of the little friends-and-family section. I find my seat. Marion and her friends are sitting next to me.
“Hey!” Marion says when I sit down. “Are you psyched?”
“Totally. Did you find Damien?”
“I did. He’s a cutie, huh?”
My heart sinks again. Not sure why that keeps happening. Why should I care if Marion likes Damien?
“He’s . . . okay,” I say.
“Okay? Oh. Is this like a loyalty-to-Ethan thing? Because you’re allowed to think other guys are cute.”
I’m trying to come up with a decent response when the lights dim. The crowd screams. Ethan’s band comes onstage. Then Ethan comes out.
The crowd goes ballistic.
His fourth song is “Now and Forever.” The song he wrote for me. Watching Ethan sing our song to thousands of other girls is kind of heartbreaking. But it’s also really cool. No matter how bad my insecurities sometimes make me feel, nothing feels as good as being Ethan’s girlfriend.
39
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“Hello?” Damien says.
“Hey. It’s me.”
“Hey.”
“Can you talk?”
“Of course. What’s up?”
“I have good news and bad news.”
“Always lead with the good news.”
“I got into the University of Vermont.” I just found out. Damien was the first person I wanted to call.
“Sweet! Congrats!”
“Thanks.”
“That rules. I’m so psyched for you.”
Of course I’m psyched, too. But I should be more psyched. The latest Ethan drama is like a dark cloud hanging over everything.
“Why do I sound more psyched than you?” Damien asks.
“Ready for the bad news?”
“Hit me.”
“Did you see that interview with Ethan in Entertainment Weekly?”
“No. Why?”
“He said some things that . . . just weren’t him.”
“Like what?”
“Um, I think the worst quote was, ‘I’m a baller now. Money, clothes, girls . . . who wouldn’t want my lifestyle?’” Tears spring to my eyes. Whatever happened to always being genuine, no matter what? Whatever happened to his promise that he would always be my Ethan? “I’m worried that The New York Times Magazine reporter is going to write an unflattering article.”
“Can you call him and defend Ethan?”
“Defend him how? Everything he said is already out there. I can’t take it back for him. He can’t even do that.”
“That sucks.”
“Maybe the reporter won’t include it. Maybe he didn’t even see the interview. He has more than enough material already.”
Damien makes a disapproving grunt.
“Sorry I’m like calling you and venting all over the place. I can shut up.”
“No, I want to know how you’re feeling.”
“It’s so weird that we’re hearing from colleges and Ethan isn’t even going.” I thought he was in a totally different world when Georgia and I were doing our college apps. But that was nothing compared to how different our worlds are going to be next year.
“Yeah, well. World-famous rock stars don’t have to go to college.”
“I’m just worried that he’s forgetting who he is. Did I tell you he actually pulled the ‘Do you know who I am?’ line at a restaurant in New York? He wanted to take me to The Waverly Inn the night before the show. It’s impossible to get into. You have to make reservations weeks in advance. But Ethan thought they’d let us in because he’s Ethan. And they were
like, ‘I’m sorry, sir, but we physically don’t have a free table to give you.’ He was mortified. I guess that’s why he got obnoxious. But still.”
“How are you doing, though?” Damien asks. “I mean, aside from Ethan?”
It’s been so long since someone asked about me, I don’t even know how to answer.
“Okay. I guess my life has been revolving around Ethan for so long, I kind of forgot to have a life of my own.”
“Have you given any more thought to those cooking videos?”
“Sort of. But I’ve been so swamped with traveling to Ethan’s shows and keeping up with his stuff online that I’m crazy behind in school. It’ll take me a whole other year to make everything up.”
“May I speak freely?”
“Um . . . yes?”
“What I’m hearing is a lot about how Ethan comes first in your life. And I get that. He’s your boyfriend and you love him. He’s very lucky to be your number one priority. But I’m wondering when you’re going to take time for yourself. When do you get to be the priority?”
I don’t know why I didn’t realize this before. But Damien’s right. When did my life become all about Ethan? Has it been this way since we started going out? Why did I not notice that my own life was taking a backseat to his?
And what can I do to fix it?
40
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I stare at the magazine again. I can’t believe what I’m seeing.
There’s a picture of me in the style section. Not just any style section. The style section of the leading women’s magazine.
Was it really only six months ago when I saw that first picture of me and Ethan in a magazine? I hated how I looked back then. My style has changed so quickly I didn’t even realize it was happening.
Aixa has hooked me up with a whole new wardrobe. The pieces Ethan asked her to buy for me combined with gifts of clothes and accessories from designers have resulted in a closet filled with beautiful things. Every time I open my closet door or a dresser drawer, I can’t believe I’m in the right room. My wardrobe could belong to any A-list celeb. It’s unreal.
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