Fucking idiot! You should’ve greeted the audience. Now they are all thinking that you’re an asshole and you don’t know how to properly engage, which makes what Cam said seem more true, and now you’re sweating under the stage lights like an idiot and oh shit—
Brad was staring at me. As if he was waiting for a reply.
Did he ask me something?
He must’ve asked me something.
What did he ask me?
I blinked a few times and shifted in my chair. “I’m sorry, can you repeat that?”
“I said I’m sorry for your loss. It must’ve been a hard one for you to handle.”
Brad wasn’t a big asshole. That was exactly why Tyler set it up for me to go on his late-night show, which was filmed during the daytime. The sun was still out, the birds were still chirping, and fuck. Reply, idiot!
I cleared my throat. “It hasn’t been the easiest year.”
“Understandable. But, I’ve been informed that you’ve been in the studio. Maybe working on some solo pieces?”
“Yes. Slowly but surely it’s coming together.”
“Is it hard creating music without your brother?”
Is it hard creating music without the one person who talked me into doing music in the first place? Is it hard learning how to be a solo artist when you’ve always been part of a duo? Is it hard not hearing Alex’s vocals and guitar on the songs when they come to a finish?
No, Brad. It’s insanely easy.
Don’t say that, Oliver. You’ll sound like a dick.
Damn, it was hot in here. Was there no air-conditioning? I bet Tyler was sweating buckets in the audience. Cursing under his breath about how I was bombing the interview.
The interview.
Answer Brad!
“Uh, yeah. It’s difficult.”
“It’s probably even tougher with the allegations that have come out about you and your relationship with Cam.”
Brad seemed so calm as he spoke. Almost as if he wasn’t speaking about how some lunatic was out to ruin my life after my life had already been extremely damaged from losing Alex.
I don’t want to be here.
I shifted in my chair. I felt everyone staring at me, but I couldn’t figure out what to say. I didn’t know how to speak up for myself. I didn’t know how to sit there and tell my truth to combat Cam’s lies.
“I, uh, I’m,” I started, but I began to get choked up. I grimaced and then scolded myself for grimacing because that would be picked up on camera. “I’m sorry, Brad. Can we take a break?”
Brad looked at the cameras, then to the producers off in the wings of the stage, who were furiously shaking their heads. But before Brad could reply, I was walking off set toward my dressing room. I yanked at the collar of my shirt, trying to take in deep breaths.
I swung the dressing room door open and cussed at the top of my lungs the moment the door shut behind me. “Fuck!”
“Fuck!” was echoed behind me as Tyler walked into the room. His face couldn’t have been redder if he tried. I couldn’t tell if he was pissed off, scared, or felt bad for me. Maybe a little of all three.
He paced for a minute before he stood still and took in a deep inhale. Then he looked to me. “Okay. It’s okay. Shit,” he muttered before taking a few more deep breaths. “Okay. I’m going to go talk to the producers, apologize, and let them know we’ll have to reschedule.”
“This is going to make me look worse,” I muttered in return, sitting down and rubbing my hands against my face.
Tyler didn’t respond, because he knew it was true.
He cleared his throat and patted me on the back. “Don’t worry, buddy. We’ll get it figured out. Not a big deal.”
Translation: a big fucking deal.
I bet the moment this news got out, Cam would be smirking with pride, knowing she’d kicked a dog that was already down.
There was a knock at the door, and Tyler called out, “Yeah, give us a minute!”
“Sorry,” a calm voice said. “I’ll wait.”
Emery.
“Let her in,” I said with a nod.
Tyler moved to the door and opened it. Emery stood there with a sad smile and Kelly’s backstage pass around her neck. That explained how she’d gotten past security.
“Hi,” she breathed out.
I couldn’t even form a word to greet her.
Tyler looked to me, then to Emery, then back to me. “Okay. I’m going to do damage control. Emery—don’t let anyone else come in here unless it’s me. No pop-up interviews, all right? You stay here with him and guard this door until I’m back.”
“Will do.”
Tyler left and closed the door behind him. Emery walked over to me and sat down in the chair beside mine.
“You okay?” she asked.
“You really need me to answer that?”
“No. But still . . . at least you almost did the interview. That’s a step closer in the right direction.”
“I was never good at this. I don’t do well under that kind of pressure. That was Alex’s ball game, not mine. I’ve just made everything that much harder for my PR team too. I keep fucking up, which in turn fucks things up for other people.”
“It isn’t your fault. This is too much pressure for anyone. I couldn’t imagine going out there and having to defend myself to garbage statements that were being made about me. It’s not fair that you even have to deal with this petty stuff after the year you’ve had.”
I shut my eyes and placed my hands on the sides of my temples. “I just need the world to slow down for a minute. I need my brain to slow down. It feels like I’m spiraling.”
“Okay,” Emery said. “Come here.”
She moved to the floor and sat down, patting the spot beside her.
“What are you doing?”
“We’re going to take a minute to slow down. Now come on.” She lay down and grabbed her phone. Within seconds the song “Chasing Cars,” by Snow Patrol, began to play. She tilted her head in my direction and gestured for me to join her.
I did as she said, lying down beside her as the music played. We lay shoulder to shoulder, and she laced her hand with mine, sending that wave of warmth through my system.
How did she do that?
How did she help make me slow down my madness?
The song played on repeat, over and over again, as my thoughts began to slow.
She tilted her head to look at me, I tilted my head to look at her, and I swore somehow I felt her heartbeats.
“Thank you, Emery.”
“For what?”
“Existing.”
26
OLIVER
“What were some of your victories this past week?” Abigail asked at our next meeting together. I took comfort in knowing that after my meltdown on the set, I’d be able to work through some of the bullshit in my head with Abigail. It helped knowing that each week, I had someone assisting me in unpacking my heavy baggage.
Each week, before we dived into my mind, she asked me that. She said it was a way to switch the narrative in my head that every week was a bad week. It was a way to rewire my mind. Some weeks it was easy to come up with the good things that had happened to me. Other times, like said week, that felt almost impossible.