Center Stage - Chapter 15

I didn’t get to see the finished results of all the security upgrades or get the walk-through Mrs. Phillips was getting when they were done, but she said she’d show me them and Isaiah said he’d make sure I understood how everything worked when I got back.

As with the last several weeks, at least those with tour dates, Friday we tended to start fairly early, since they spent a lot more night on the sound check and lighting. We checked it all every night, but if something was going to go wrong, it was more likely to happen night one than after we’d already used it, so they always put a lot more time into everything.

What that meant for me was flying out Thursday night instead of Friday morning, which was one more missed day of school and another night in the hotel. But, as Mrs. Phillips said, this is what I signed up for.

Besides, I only had this stop and the final date the following week in Atlanta, and then I was done. After that, we just had to worry about the tour Warren was setting up. I’d spoken to him about it a few times, and he’d already made a lot of changes, as larger venues from even the ones he’d already been talking to had been calling him.

The wild thing was, according to him at least, it was all the stuff with Alina and being in the press about it that was pushing me up. More people had seen our denial of the story than had read the original story, which maybe was what Quinn had been talking about when she said my name recognition was starting to take off.

I still had a few minutes until we boarded and was contemplating trying to run to the little store and get something to snack on for the flight when my phone rang. Surprisingly, I saw Alina’s number pop up.

“Alina, this is a surprise,” I said when I answered.

“Hi, Charlie. I hope this isn’t a bad time.”

“Nope. Just sitting in the airport waiting for my flight to board.”

“Ohh, good. I just wanted to tell you I saw they pulled that article off of SpilledTea after our interview, so it looks like your plan worked.”

“Partially. The article’s gone, but I don’t know if you’ve seen all the gossip about us dating now.”

“Yeah, but that happens anytime I’m seen with anyone. Last month, apparently, I was sleeping with an actor twenty years older than me because we happened to show up at a red carpet at the same time.”

“Ohh.”

“Don’t worry about it, these things blow over quick. They’ll find someone else to gossip about soon enough.”

“That’s what my manager said too. Guess I’m still getting used to all this public eye stuff.”

“Yeah,” she said, a little awkwardly, and then paused. “So that’s not actually the real reason I called. I’ve been thinking about what you said at the end of the interview, about being there if I needed someone to talk to.”

“Of course. I meant it. What’s on your mind?”

“It’s just... I’ve realized I don’t have many people around me who care about me for me, you know? Everyone always wants something.”

“Yeah, that can be rough. That’s kind of what I was saying, that everyone needs someone who doesn’t care about their career, but about just them.”

It wasn’t an unusual sentiment, especially for people with money or fame. Hell, they made movies and wrote books about it all the time. It was a reminder of how lucky I was with the people around me.

“I’m starting to see that. So, I was wondering if I could take you up on that offer? To talk, I mean.”

“I’d be happy to. My plane is about to board, but I should land in Chicago in about three hours, and could be around then to talk if you wanted to do it tonight, or any point I’m not actually on stage.”

“Really? I’m in Chicago now for some shoots tonight and Sunday. Maybe we could meet up?”

I went through my schedule in my head for a second and said, “Yeah, I think I can make that work. How about Saturday before noon, if you have time?”

“I’ll make time,” she said, and I could hear the smile in her voice.

“Great. Since you’re there already, figure out where you want to meet and text me, and I’ll be there.”

Perfect. Have a safe flight, Charlie. And... thanks. For everything.”

“Anytime, Alina. See you soon.”

By the time I got off the plane, Alina had already texted me a vegan restaurant not far from where the concert was being held. While I wasn’t thrilled about that and would have preferred real food, that wasn’t what this was about. Besides, I shouldn’t be surprised someone whose job it was to look good would be on some constant diet or eating regime.

She’d been kind enough to find out where we were performing and then keep it near where I was instead of having me travel to where she was, so the least I could do was eat a salad and not complain about it. Besides, I was certain that doing what she did, reaching out to talk, was hard for her, living the life she must have, with handlers always telling her what to do and where to be.

The show itself was going to be easy. We hadn’t had a crisis, on stage at least, in a month and we’d hit a really solid groove where everyone knew what they needed to do and where they needed to be.

Not that it was drama-free.

I’d just breezed through my sound check and was headed back to my small dressing room to relax for a little bit when I passed Vince, who couldn’t seem to help himself.

“Well, if it isn’t the big man,” Vince said in a mocking tone. “How’s the new girlfriend?”

I stopped and turned to see him smirking at me, looking at a few of the people around us as if to say ‘got him.’ He only lost the smirk when I started to walk toward him, pulling himself back a bit like he thought I was going to swing at him.

I confused him by instead smiling at him and putting a friendly hand on his shoulder, “Vince. Buddy. Are you really trying to insult me by insinuating I slept with a supermodel?”

He shrugged off my hand but didn’t say anything.

“No, I get it. A guy like you probably can’t even imagine what it’s like to have a woman actually wanting to talk to him, let alone touch him, at least without putting something in her drink. Maybe try to turn down the date-rapiness a notch or two, see how that works,” I said, and then gave him his own smirk back.

Vince’s face turned an impressive shade of red as he balled his fists, puffing out his chest like he was going to take a swing. I’d had enough of him. Anyone just a little smarter would see that, but Vince couldn’t see two inches past his own ego.

Instead of deescalating or backing down, I stepped up to him in one swift motion, causing him to flinch back, “You sure you want to do this, Vince?”

He hesitated, glancing around at the growing crowd of onlookers. He clearly thought better of it, taking a step back and trying to play it off.

“Whatever. Have fun with people showing up at your house. Maybe if you weren’t such a loser, someone wouldn’t have had to post your address online. How’s that working out for you?”

The smirk left my face as I stopped playing with him and got serious.

“Sounds like you know something about that, Vince.”

He shrugged, feigning innocence. “I don’t know anything, man. Just heard about it, that’s all.”

“Really? Because there aren’t a lot of ways someone could have gotten my address, and my security people are pretty sure it originated from here on the tour. I wonder, if they started checking, had the police subpoena computer records, if they could track down where the anonymous user posted from and who he is?”

Vince paled slightly, telling me, and anyone else looking at him, that he was the one who posted it. Several of the other singers and crew were looking at each other uncomfortably, as this suddenly went from two people being mildly insulting to something real.

I wasn’t going to swing at him, though. I had a better idea.

“You know, it’s funny you should bring that up, especially in front of all these witnesses. Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t doxing someone a crime? Like, the kind with actual jail time attached?”

I didn’t actually know if it was even illegal, let alone could get him jail time. What I was almost completely certain of, however, was that he definitely didn’t know.

“I... I don’t know,” Vince stammered. “I mean, I didn’t...”

I held up a hand, cutting him off. “You know what, Vince? I don’t really care.”

I turned and started to walk away, but Vince just couldn’t let it go.

“So what?” he called after me. “You can’t prove anything!”

I turned around and stepped up close to him, right in his face and said, “You’re too stupid to be this confrontational, Vince. It’s gonna get your ass kicked or land you in jail one day. It sure as hell isn’t going to get you on stage. You have zero charisma, and the crowds can see it. You’re a decent enough musician, but not good enough to make up for a shit personality. At best, you’ll be working small gigs the rest of your life. Maybe not even that if you keep pissing off everyone you meet.”

Vince’s jaw clenched but he said nothing.

“So how about this, don’t screw with me again or even talk to me the rest of this tour, or I’ll make your life a living hell. Don’t believe it? Which one of us is on TV doing spots? Which one of us is getting ink? Look around. You don’t have any friends here who’ll get your back. It’s your call.”

There were maybe a dozen people around, including a few singers, and none looked like they’d have Vince’s back, which is what happened when you tried to act like the big man on campus, throwing around weight you didn’t have.

We stared each other down for a long moment. Finally, Vince broke eye contact. I gave him one last hard look before turning and walking off. As I did, Dexter, who’d been one of the people watching all this happen, walked past him on the other side, toward his dressing room.

“Wanker,” Dexter said offhandedly, not even looking at Vince as he went.

It was like a punchline to the whole confrontation. A few snickers broke out from the onlookers. Vince looked around and then hurried away, out of sight.

***

The show Friday night went well, and Vince kept a distance from me the whole night. I did get some weird looks from Julie, but everyone else acted the same as always around me, I guess proving my point that no one wanted anything to do with Vince or would back him up in any way.

My only real concern was GLR, but Phoenix wasn’t around for this leg of the tour, and no one said anything else to me. For once, it seemed like I was able to stand up for myself and actually be allowed to get away with it without the world coming down on me.

Saturday, I headed to meet Alina before I had to be back at sound check. I’d made sure to eat a very late breakfast, so I didn’t spend the whole meal thinking about how hungry I was. My trips to LA had already proved to me I wasn’t cut out for the Hollywood style of eating. I was a rural southern boy and needed real food, not what the rich and famous, or those who hoped to be rich and famous, thought of as food.

Alina was already at the restaurant when I got there, sitting at a table in the far corner of the restaurant, almost near the bathrooms. I would have thought someone of her stature would have gotten a better table than that, but what did I know. She waved at me enthusiastically over to her table.

“Hi,” she said, sounding a little nervous as I sat down. “I’m glad you came.”

“Of course. I said I’d be here, and I am.”

“You’d be surprised how uncommon that is in our world,” she said, and then waved the waiter over so we could order.

As I expected, it was all bird food. I couldn’t help but notice there wasn’t a price anywhere on the menu, which meant this was going to be an expensive conversation. I wasn’t actually worried about the money, which was a weird feeling for me. When Warren said we’d seen a bump in our streaming numbers, he wasn’t kidding. Even giving a chunk to the distributor, paying the security company, Benny, Arthur, Warren, and now Quinn, we were still making as much as we had at the highest point working for MAC, and that didn’t even count what I was making off the tour, which wasn’t huge, but was still decent.

I’d entered this strange place where I didn’t really have to worry about money. I couldn’t go crazy and start buying sports cars or anything, but after a life of poverty, it was a change. Every time I saw the price of something and started to think ‘I can’t do that,’ I’d realize I could and have to wrestle with myself to justify it, even though I didn’t have to.

“I really appreciate you taking the time to listen. It’s been ... a lot lately,” she said as the waiter left.

“Cause of the article?”

“Partially, although that’s just one hit piece I’m featured in. It seems like there’s a quota where every week someone has to make up a lie about me to see their paper or website. I’m glad we got that article taken down, which I can tell you is very rare, but it seems like fighting back has just made me more of a target. The number of people trying to take my picture and catch me in a moment, it’s getting crazy. I got a call this morning that someone tried to break into my apartment in New York. They arrested the guy, and he had these small wireless cameras I guess he thought he could hide there. It’s nuts.”

“I can’t even imagine,” I said. “I’ve only just started to get a taste of that, and I hate it.”

“The worst part, I think, isn’t even all the strangers trying to get a piece of me. I think the worst part is the people around me. They seem more interested in protecting the product, the image, than the actual person behind it.”

“What do you mean?”

“My managers, the agency… they’re all concerned about maintaining this image they made of me. Sometimes it’s hard to remember who I actually am anymore. And it’s not just the press. It’s everything. My career, my body, my finances, who I can talk to. I’m afraid I’ve lost me, and I’m just some stupid robot who struts up and down runways and tries to look pretty.

“Why don’t you switch to someone else? Someone you can trust? I mean, if they’re that bad.”

“It’s not that simple. This is the life I’m stuck in. I started modeling when I was fourteen and my mother set everything up, basically giving the agency complete control over me and my career, with the only way out to walk away, in extreme debt because of what I’d be forced to pay the agency back for backing out of the contract. It’s set up so I don’t have anyone to take my side in it. They assign me managers and accountants and publicists, and everyone really only cares about getting the most money out of me. I don’t even know how I’d be able to untangle all that.”

“There has to be a way around it,” I insisted. “Maybe if I talked to…”

“Charlie,” she said, reaching across the table and putting a hand on my arm. “I appreciate your concern, but I didn’t ask to meet so you could try to fix my problems. I just... I needed to say these things out loud, to someone who wouldn’t use them against me.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. That’s a bad habit I have, always trying to fix everything.”

“It’s okay,” she said, giving my arm a squeeze before pulling her hand back. “It’s nice to know someone cares. And it feels good to get this off my chest, even if there’s no easy solution.”

I did want to help her find a way out of that because it sounded awful, but I also knew it would take a major commitment and willingness to get hurt to back away. While I was confident in the decisions I’d made for my career the last couple of years, many of them had at first looked like major mistakes, and I could have easily balked at what looked like losing everything. Hell, the jury was still out if saying no to GLR was a good or bad thing yet. So far, the distribution deal was working out, but it was also unlikely it would get us much further than we were now.

Our food arrived, and we shifted the conversation to lighter topics - our favorite music, funny stories from our travels, the quirks of the entertainment industry. She seemed genuinely relieved to just be able to be a person, talking with a friend, instead of a commodity. There was one other thing I wanted to talk to her about.

I know it basically went directly against the “just listen, don’t meddle” point she asked, but I felt it was important, and something that needed to be discussed. I waited until after we finished eating, however, because this was what she’d really wanted, and I didn’t want to say something that might take away this little bit of joy.

“So,” I said as we finished up our meals. “About that night at the party…”

I paused, still a little hesitant to change the subject back to something serious.

“What about it?” she asked, equally as hesitant.

“There’s one thing I didn’t find out. I’m sorry for turning the topic back to something uncomfortable, and you don’t have to answer. I promise I won’t bring it back up if you don’t want to discuss it, but… how did you end up in that situation? You were really out of it. Did someone put something in your drink?”

“No,” she said, sighing and picking up her napkin, folding it and unfolding it. “I just… I hate those parties. They’re so, I don’t know, suffocating. Sometimes, taking something is the only way I can get through them and stay sane.”

“I get that. But, considering some of the people you’re trying to avoid while there, that seems like a pretty dangerous strategy for coping.”

“Believe me, I know. That night scared the hell out of me.”

“Maybe you could bring someone with you to those events?” I suggested. “Someone to watch your back or just run interference?”

Alina laughed humorlessly. “If only. When it is possible, it’s usually another model, which doesn’t help much. We’re all in the same boat.”

I started to offer another idea but caught myself. She looked uncomfortable, and she’d been pretty clear she didn’t want me fixing her problems. At least not before she asked for help.

“It’s so… it’s not just the pressure and the expectations. There’s this constant flow of drugs, a lot of it coming from our managers. It’s easier to fill us full of Xanax than deal with the stuff that is causing our anxiety and depression. Which isn’t great in an industry full of creepy men, and women sometimes. You’re this pill zombie at a shoot, and there are these guys. Photographers, brand reps, just people who get brought along as guests to stare and ogle. It’s hard to ever feel truly safe,” she said, and then threw her napkin on the table. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to unload all that on you.”

“Don’t apologize. I’m glad you felt you could share it with me. I can’t imagine dealing with all that.”

She gave me a small, grateful smile. “Thanks, Charlie. For listening. For not judging. It means a lot.”

“Anytime. I mean it. I’m here if you ever need to talk, or even not talk about it. We could steer clear of all the serious subjects and just bullshit.”

“I might take you up on that. Lord knows I could use more normal human interaction in my life.”

We sat in slightly awkward silence for a moment, sipping our drinks. I glanced at my watch and realized I needed to head back for sound check soon.

“I hate to cut this short, but I should probably get going,” I said apologetically.

“Of course. I don’t want to make you late.”

We settled the bill and she called for a rideshare, saying she wanted to wait until it was here to go outside. It made sense. Someone with her profile, it probably wasn’t usual to have people wanting to get an autograph, or just stare at you. It might have been why she picked this place to eat. It was crazy expensive and catered to a high-end clientele, that would be more likely to leave her alone.

As we stepped onto the sidewalk, I noticed a small group of photographers gathered near the restaurant entrance. They immediately started snapping pictures and shouting questions. She wasn’t kidding about there always being someone following her around.

“Alina! Are you two dating?”

“How long have you been together?”

“Is it serious?”

Nearly all of the questions were directed at her. Only two were to me directly, both insulting in their own way, although maybe it was a step up from having no questions directed at me the last time. I figured Alina would just ignore them and get into the car.

Instead, just as we got to her rideshare car, she stopped and said, “I don’t discuss my personal life or who I may or may not be dating.”

With that, she ducked into the car and I shut the door behind her. I had to stand there a minute, while they snapped more pictures at me and shouted questions, waiting for my car I’d ordered to show up so I could get back to the venue.

I didn’t even hear them. Instead, I was struck by the odd phrasing Alina had used. She’d very specifically not denied we were dating or refuted it. If anything, the way she’d answered would make them more likely to speculate, and end up with another article, this one probably suggesting we were together.

I’d mentioned the lunch to Kat when we’d had our call last night, before I went on stage, but I’d have to call her again and give her a heads up about what was about to happen. She knew people were talking about me dating Alina, but this would take things up a notch.

I actually felt bad for Kat, since she was a bystander in all of this. I knew she trusted me and didn’t believe the rumors, but it still wasn’t fair to her. At some point, I’d also need to talk to Alina and find out why she hadn’t just told them no.