Page 80 of Knot Their Opening Act

* * *

“We’ve got a doctor coming to the hotel in the morning, and then we head out to Paris. Two days off should help, but we’ll get a professional opinion on whether you’ll need to miss any shows.”

Ash is sitting down with me, sipping a coffee in my dressing room. I’m curled up on the sofa as Fable is playing out their set. I’d given each of the guys a hug and a cheek kiss, and squeezed their hands as a thank you before we walked off the stage together. Kai had looked out onto the crowd and into the mic said, “Go get a drink, you lot! Fable will be on in twenty minutes.”

Then to me, as Caylee and Ferny and Shay had flocked to my side in the wings, Kai had whispered, “We all meant every word of that. Think about it. Please. We want you to be our Omega, Jez. Not as an apology or way to make up for the shit we’ve done. But because the role of serving you as your Alphas would be a higher honor than anything the public could give us.”

With that, he turned away, seemingly afraid to see my response, but I think Steve had words for him, and if I’m not wrong, a rearrangement of the setlist. I waved at the guys as they looked over their shoulders at me, and let Caylee bring me back here.

I nod as Ash continues telling me about the travel itinerary. Tour bus to Paris and then straight into hotel rooms and free time to roam, eat, whatever.

Fable’s been to Paris a handful of times. I’ve visited once as a tourist, and a second time playing a big indie festival where I had what was essentially a booth. I sat on a small stool that one broken leg and played to whoever walked past. Most people asked for covers of overplayed songs by British artists, which was fine but at the same time, not what I was trying to be known for.

Since then, I’ve never played a cover at a live gig. It stole my taste for it.

But it’s ironic this is on my mind as I get a hot shower in the venue’s facilities, since the bus’s shower leaves a bit to be desired and we won’t reach the Paris hotel until the early hours. Public is the way I want to think now. Not because I believe I owe them anything specific, or an open door into my personal life. But because I’ve always sworn by honesty as the best policy, both in my private and public lives. And yet the one thing I’ve hidden all this time is the thing that’s caused me the greatest trouble.

If I’d just shared it years ago—even beforeTen to One, I could’ve potentially saved myself a lot of struggles. But that’s not the reason to share it. The reason is to let even one other person out there know that they shouldn’t be ashamed. They’re not alone. And there is understanding, if you reach for it. Even in unlikely places.

* * *

“You ready to go?”

I nod. I’ve hardly used my voice at all in the past day. The Bristol doctor gave me the all-clear to perform again at the next gig, as long as I followed the strict regimen she placed me on. And I have. I’m not missing a show if I can help it.

Caylee checks the lighting one more time, fusses with my curled hair, pulling it behind my shoulders then draping it over just my left. I give my head a shake and it all tumbles every which way, and then I grin and point at it, looking at her. She shakes her head and rolls her eyes, but then smiles as she checks my phone on its tripod.

I’m not going live but recording a message, only in case I start to honk and squeak again. I’ve been writing everything I’ve needed to communicate down on a pad of paper Ferny gave me, and it’s been great. Resting my voice is actually more, well, restful, mentally, than I realized it would be. It’s almost like being given a pass to check out of the world’s problems for a minute.

Not that I’d want to lose my voice every day.

The lozenge in my mouth dissolves and I nod at Caylee. She hits the button on the tiny remote and my phone starts recording.

“Hi guys, Jez Jacobs here.” I swallow the last of the lozenge and catch Caylee pushing my paper cup of tea forward on the counter beside me, out of view of the phone’s camera but there in case I need it. I nod slightly.

“I wanted to take a moment to thank you all for being so supportive through my stumble last night in Bristol, whether you were at the show or one of the people writing beautiful messages on social media. Thank you for taking the time, you’ll never know how much it means. And Bristol folks, I’m going to arrange a make-up show for you sometime after this tour ends. Stay tuned.”

Caylee gives me a signal and I pause for a second then take a sip of tea. Then she starts recording again. The idea was get it out as quick as I can so I don’t ramble or lose my will. Or my voice.

“Something you all deserve to know has been in my heart and mind for a while now. The truth is I’ve been lying to you by not sharing it with you since day one. Any of you who’ve stuck around this long might have some inkling, or might even know. There’s no way to know how well I’ve hid it, but it’s never gotten out to the media. As many of you probably also do, I struggle with anxiety. Generalized anxiety disorder is what they call it, GAD, but arm-in-arm with that is claustrophobia.” I pause again but Caylee doesn’t stop. I just swallow. And then take a breath.

“This isn’t something that’s ever stopped me from reaching for my dream of being able to perform for you the songs I write. The reason I wanted to be straight with you at last is the hope that you’ll see any hurdles in your own lives as just that—parts of life you deal with, but not walls without doors. There have been times, especially recently, where my anxiety levels rose, and so my claustrophobia struck in moments I wouldn’t have expected, along with situations where it was pretty normal. Like getting stuck in a lift. Yes,” I say. “That happened. But I survived—thank you, Edinburgh fire department. And Thomas.” I smile and fight the urge to twist my hair between my fingers.

“I want you to know that this is me. Not because an artist owes every part of their lives to the public, but because you guys have stuck by me, and I’m meeting more and more of you who’ve discovered me through Fable on Fire, and I’m grateful you’ve stuck through my shows even if it wasn’t your thing. To each one of you I want to say, don’t ever feel you have to hide who you are, because the more people speak about the things they work to overcome, the bigger a team of supporters we’ll all have. And if I’d spoken sooner, maybe I could’ve helped even one person believe they have as much value as the next person, no matter what struggle they fight in their own life.”

I take a breather for a second, relieved to find my voice is strong enough to handle this. The medicine and the rest is helping, and hopefully by the day after tomorrow, I’ll be strong enough for my set.

“No matter what anyone says, please remember, your worth is not in someone else’s eyes. That eye of the beholder stuff makes it sound like you’re only as valuable as the value someone else attributes to you. That’s bullshit. Your value is in your existence, and your power is in the purpose in your heart. Thanks for listening. Love you lots.”

Caylee presses the button and sets the remote down. She shakes her head, smiling. “That was perfect. You sounded sure and strong. And I think Viv’s going to adore it.”

When I told Viv earlier what I was planning, she nearly teared up. She said, “Jez, when I say it’s about time, I don’t mean you’ve been slacking off all these years by hiding this. It’s your truth, so you choose when to share it, and with whom. What I mean is, it’s about time that someone else entered your life who made yourealizeyour truth is valid. You are more powerful the more you release this stuff, you know? And I’m still going to be here, every step of the way.”

I take the phone and make sure the video’s saved properly, then send it straight to Viv in a text.

Here it is. Let me know. And send me a pic of that beautiful face when you get time. We’ll chat tomorrow still, yeah? Love you.

I hand the phone to Caylee and let her upload it to my socials with the text I typed up earlier saved in a note, and I climb into the bed, lean back, and close my eyes. No matter what the world thinks of me, I have a support system—five people who have my back. And it’s taken me far too long to see that that really is what it’s all about.

---