Page 17 of Love Redesigned
I perked up. My piano playing Elliott Hart had gotten his start on YouTube. He was legit famous—had risen far above YouTube notoriety—but I couldn’t keep myself from asking. “Entertainers like Elliott Hart?”
Isaac didn’t know to make fun of my question or he probably would have. But Alex immediately smiled. He knew firsthand how much I loved Elliott Hart and, from my influence, had quickly become a fan himself. I felt a sudden urge to share the advanced copy of Elliott’s new album that Darius had given me with Alex. The second track was a classical interpretation of a Coldplay song he would love.
“I actually asked the same question,” Alex said. “But we think he might be a little more than we can afford.”
“Even for a charity event?” I said. “It can’t hurt to ask, right?”
“Elliott would be great, but his fans are mostly millennials and younger, the same age bracket wheremyaudience already hangs out,” Isaac said. “But Red Renegade is releasing a revival album next year. I’m kind of thinking a Christmas Eve performance would be a great way for them to reach a new, younger audience.”
“Wait,” I said. “Red Renegade, the band you idolized for all of seventh and eighth grade? Weren’t they kind of old, even back then?”
“They were not old. They were amazing.Areamazing,” Isaac said.
Alex leaned toward me. “Red Renegade is even more of a stretch than Elliott Hart. I’ve tried to reach out to their agent but haven’t gotten a response. From what I understand, the band hasn’t performed together in years.”
I almost asked him if he’d tried texting Darius but thought better of bringing it up in front of Isaac. It would for sure get his hopes up, and even with Darius’s connections, odds were probably still low.
“Either way,” Isaac said, “we’ll figure it out.”
“What charity will it benefit?” I asked.
“It’s an organization called Thrive,” Isaac said. “It focuses on increasing educational and social opportunities for underprivileged neighborhoods through mentoring and outreach programs.”
I nodded. “They have programs in Charleston, don’t they? I recognize the name.”
“The Charleston chapter has been very supportive,” Alex said. “They put us in touch with the Thrive national leadership team, who recommended a corporate event planner who has coordinated charity events for them in the past.”
“We have a meeting with him tomorrow,” Isaac said.
I studied my brother carefully. He was excited, that much was clear. But something didn’t add up. Not with the Isaac that I’d always known. My confusion over his mature handling of our parents’ roof repair suddenly tripled.
“So, what’s in it foryou?” I asked.
Isaac stared without blinking. “You would ask that, wouldn’t you?”
“I’m not judging, I’m just asking. Surely there’s a benefit to you if you’re going to all this effort.” Maybe Iwasjudging. But this was Isaac we were talking about. Isaac who, in my mind, wasn’t all that different than he had been eight years ago at age seventeen. His show and channel had evolved over the years, but it was still basically the same thing, none of which struck me as very adult-like. Climbing into an ice bath full of lemon-lime soda. Setting his own hair on fire. Fitting fifty-seven cinnamon bears into his mouth at one time. A massive charity event just for the sake of charity didn’t feel very...congruent.
It was Rizzo that finally volunteered an answer. “Money,” he said smoothly. “An event generates attention. Attention brings subscribers. Subscribers bring hits, hits bring cash. Simple as that.”
Isaac didn’t look up. “That’s not—” He sighed. “Forget it. You wouldn’t understand.”
“Obviously exposure is never a bad thing,” Alex said cautiously, “and there will be multiple internet personalities involved so Isaac’s fan base does have the potential to grow, but we’re trying to approach this as more of a giving back scenario.”
I was momentarily distracted by the soothing lilt of Alex’s voice, the way his g’s were almost silent, the way his words rolled into each other like tiny ripples of sound. Isaac and I sounded Southern—but not next to Alex. Our mother was from Maine; we grew up sounding more like her than our Lowcountry father. But Alex was all South Carolina. A longing deep and intense swelled inside my chest. I missedhome.
I forced my brain back to the conversation in front of me. To the way Alex had called Isaac an internet personality instead of just a YouTube star. Somehow, he’d managed to give the entire thing an air of professionalism I’d never associated with Isaac before.
“So, will...” I wasn’t sure how to formulate my question. “I mean, I think it sounds amazing, but do you think there’s that kind of money in your viewership? The kind of money that attends charity events? Or buys stuff at an auction?”
Isaac looked at Alex. “See? I told you she wouldn’t get it.”
I backpedaled. “I didn’t say I didn’t get it. I think it sounds amazing, like a really good idea, I just—”
“No, it won’t be the kind of event where people wear LeFranc dresses,” Isaac said with a measure of contempt that made me uncomfortable. “I know it’s hard for you to imagine life outside your fancy, high-end fashion world, but the point of this entire event is for it to be accessible. It’s going to be for regular people. For regular fans. Anyone who can get to New York.”
“And anyone else who wants to watch the live stream,” Alex added. “We had a photoshoot today with Isaac, Rizzo, and the three other hosts to create some promotional material. We’re confident the event will be well-attended, and well-watched from home.”
I had so many doubts. So many questions. So many reasons to think this was a terrible idea, headed for miserable and certain failure. But I knew better than to doubt my brother again. At least not out loud. He had a lot riding on this; I could tell. “I think it sounds really amazing,” I said.
