Page 7 of Rock and a Hard Place

“You do realize they both died of drug overdoses,” Garrett added.

“Yeah, and you should be very sad about their wasted talent. Now show it to me on your faces,” the photographer said with a pointed look.

The threesome switched gears and slid easily into character. Peter thought about his dream to be a career musician, not just part of a boy band with the shelf life of a ripe banana. Jamieson had been fortunate with great reviews and success beyond his dreams, but this was a fickle industry. He wanted to have a lifelong career likethe rock greats before him. Their careers had legs, and so would his. Giving a serious expression wasn’t so hard after all.

Twenty minutes later, the primping and posing ended and they headed off set.

“Guys, grab some lunch while we go over details for the rest of the day,” their middle-aged manager, Wally, instructed.

A few minutes later, with their plates piled high, they, along with their entourage, gathered around a large table in a meeting room at the studio.

“We have another busy day ahead of us,” Wally said, scratching his balding head. He opened a binder filled with tour information. “The CD signing begins in one hour. We’ll bring you in through the side fire exit.”

“That’s good,” Adam interrupted. “We’ll know where to get out when the fire starts. ’Cause we’re so hot!”

“You are such an idiot,” Peter said.

“Security is already in place,” Wally continued, looking at Roger, their personal security manager. “So, hopefully, we won’t have any problems like in Miami. Roger has been working with store management. You have two hours to get the crowd through the signing. We can’t go long because you have a live interview with WABC-TV at four. Sound check follows that. Oh yeah, tonight we’ve got a kid from Make-A-Wish who will shadow you until after the concert. Anybody want to take lead on that?”

“Boy or girl?” Garrett asked, wiping mustard off his fingers and onto Adam’s sleeve.

“Don’t you have respect for anything?” Adam shook his head, dabbed at the smear of mustard with a napkin, and tossed it into Garrett’s soda.

“Let’s see.” Wally ignored them and looked over his notes. “It’s a twelve-year-old boy. His name is Jacob.”

“Nah, I’ll pass, but when you get a hot eighteen-year-old chick, she’s all mine,” Garrett said.

“I’ll take him.” Peter signaled, his mouth stuffed with turkey and cheese. He grabbed his soda, took a long drag, and swallowed. “What’s he got?” Seeing kids suffer broke Peter’s heart. He remembered his own hospitalization for appendicitis at age fourteen. He’d been terrified. He couldn’t imagine how scary it was for kids who were really sick.

“Some kind of cancer. It doesn’t look good,” answered Wally shaking his head sadly. “Roger, anything you want to add to the schedule?”

Roger, their trusty bodyguard, was tall and built like a giant oak. Whenever they were out and about, he became a constant companion. Peter loved having him around. Roger had served in Iraq for a while and didn’t want to settle into a regular job when he returned home. Working for Jamieson was anything but regular.

“Yeah, the crowds at the record store are huge, and the entry space is tight. We’re gonna have to make a fast in and out. No time for shout-outs or photos.” Roger stared at Adam. “And, yes, that means you.”

Adam loved to let the girls fawn over him, and it drove Peter nuts. He held the group up constantly with his friendly banter and willingness to pose for photos with every single fan. Roger constantly had to shoo the girls away. Probably his most difficult job on the tour.

Peter loved the fans for their enthusiasm and support, but that’s where it ended. There was a fine line with fans, and he wasn’t interested in crossing it. It was impossible to connect with a girl who’d screamed your name moments before and then trembled with nervousness—or worse yet, cried—the whole time she talked to you. Touring wasn’t a normal way to make friends. He wanted to meet someone the old-fashioned way, not under the guise of fame.

Peter thought of Libby. Meeting her felt normal. No crowds, no cameras, just two people hanging out. She looked so beautiful and relaxed sitting under a tree with her long, blond hair blowing in the autumn breeze. He loved that she didn’t know who Jamieson was. Even if she did, he wasn’t sure it would make any difference. He wouldn’t mind seeing her again.

Wally interrupted Peter’s thoughts. “We’ve got a busy day, so let’s stay on task. That’s all I’ve got.” He snapped the binder closed.

# # #

After hours of hand-cramping signatures, a limo whisked the brothers, their publicist, manager, and bodyguard toMadison Square Garden, where the roadies finished their stage setup. Including lasers and pyrotechnics, it took a crew of over thirty more than twelve hours to create the enormous stage and set.

Peter was proud of their show. They’d worked hard to make it one of the most impressive concerts on tour, and performing at Madison Square Garden was the pinnacle of venues. This was a dream come true.

The interview team from WABC was in place and ready to film. A half hour in hair and makeup and the Jamieson brothers were ready to roll tape.

They sat in matching directors’ chairs and faced the interviewer, Andrea Jacobs, an attractive, young redhead who wore masterfully applied thick makeup. She probably looked better without it.

Two cameras were set among the many lights. The news producer stood close by and began the countdown. “Five, four . . .” He signaled the last three counts by pointing his finger on each beat.

“This is Andrea Jacobs, reporting live from Madison Square Garden. Joining me today is the chart-topping teen sensation, Jamieson.”

Peter hated it when the press reduced their sound to a teenybopper boy band. The camera panned across each of the brothers and then back to include all three as a group.

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