Page 57 of Once Upon a Boyband
For good or bad, my feelings about performing are all tied up with my feelings about Mom. No matter how good it felt to sing with him last night, I’m not sure I know how to untangle them. Singing in my living room is one thing, but going back on stage? Performing for an arena full of people? Hot shame claws at my throat every time I think about it, tightening around my vocal cords like a vise.
“I just don’t think I’m built for it,” I say. “Not like you are.”
Freddie studies me, the hand holding his half-eaten burger resting on his knee. I don’t miss the hope hovering in his eyes.
I lift a shoulder in a shrug I hope looks casual, even though my gut is already tensing, anticipating the direction our conversation is headed. “Besides, why do they need to listen to me when they’ve got you?”
He huffs out a sardonic laugh. “Yeah, well, they aren’t listening to me as much these days.”
I grab a few fries, accepting the inevitable. I knowFreddie didn’t come all the way out here to eat fast food burgers and hang out. We might as well get it over with now. “Yeah, Kevin said something about that. What happened?”
“I didn’tdoanything. That’s what so stupid about all of this. Well, I did have a small scuffle with this guy at a bar, but he was way out of line, putting hands all over Ivy?—”
“Your assistant?” I ask, and Freddie nods.
“They’d been talking at the bar, and she seemed into it, but then he started grabbing at her, really violating her space, and he wouldn’t let her get away. So I stepped in and shoved him back, and enough people gotthatpart of the altercation on film that entertainment news went wild, throwing around terms like drunk and disorderly conduct, talking about rehab. Which is stupid because I hadn’t even been drinking when it happened.”
He rubs a hand across his face, then keeps going.
“Just when all that started to die down, I was visiting my parents in Connecticut, and we drove down to New York to have dinner at their favorite restaurant. This woman approached our table with her daughter, wanting selfies and signatures, and they kept asking all these questions, but I really just wanted to focus on my family, so I said no. When they kept asking, Wayne, my security guy, escorted them out, and the owner of the restaurant stepped in and wouldn’t let them finish their dinner, which totally pissed her off. Turns out she was some big influencer on Instagram and was hoping to get content for her page. Which…she did. The kind that made me look like an egotistical jerk too famous to care about his fans.”
“That really sucks,” I say.
“Yeah. The new label isn’t happy. The album is supposedto drop next month, but they’re pushing it out, worried this is going to impact sales.”
“Come on, man,” I say. “You’re Freddie Ridgefield. Your concerts sell out in minutes. A few grumpy fans aren’t going to mess with that.”
“They’re already messing with it,” he says. “The Instagram lady started a petition, asking people to boycott my music to help me learn some manners, and it’s gotten something like five-hundred thousand signatures already.”
“Isn’t that a form of slander? Can you sue?”
“Yeah. ’Cause that will really help my reputation.” He crams a handful of fries into his mouth. “My publicist thinks if we can put something else out there to grab people’s attention, it will be a lot easier to make this lady and her false claims disappear.”
I sigh. There it is.
“Something like a Midnight Rush reunion concert,” I say.
He hesitates, like he senses the weight of our conversation as much as I do. “You have to admit, it’s a solid plan.”
I run a hand through my hair. “Freddie, I can’t do it. I meant it when I told Kevin no. I feel for you. You know I do. But when I walked away, I walked away for good. That hasn’t changed.”
“It’s one show, man. One night. They want to have it in Nashville, so it wouldn’t even be that big of a trip for you.”
“You know stuff like this is never just one night. There will be promo interviews, photoshoots. You’ve done this a lot more than I have, Freddie. You know I’m right.”
He holds my gaze for a beat before he finally caves. “Fine. You’re right. It would be more than just one night. But we can’t do it without you, and I really need this to happen.”
“You can do it without me,” I say. “You should.”
“Nah,” Freddie quickly says. “We aren’t Midnight Rush without you.”
He just doesn’t understand. He can’t know what it felt like. How gutting it was to have everything pulled out from under me in one night.
“This is about your mom, isn’t it?” Freddie says. “She’s why you don’t want to do it.”
I slam the truck into gear and back out of the parking lot, turning us around so quickly, Freddie has to grab his drink to keep it from tipping over. I don’t know how we got here so quickly when two minutes ago we were talking normally and everything was fine. But suddenly, I can’t get away from Freddie fast enough.
This is the worst kind of emotional whiplash, and I just want it to stop.
