Page 40 of Wild Fixation
THE MAN LOOMING OVER my shoulder is not Seth. He’s nearly as big, and just as imposing when he crosses his arms over his chest, but he’s not Seth. I keep glancing back there and expecting Seth. Instead of a beard, I find stubble. Instead of glasses, I find hard green eyes.
I turn around, trying to think about my bandmates instead of the bodyguard at my back. Keannen is walking out of the greenroom, waving at a jostling line of fans who scream at the sight of him. He takes his seat beside Dan and Levi at a long table with pens and markers strewn across it. We’ll need every last one of them to get through signing autographs for this many people.
Shawn pats me on the shoulder. We’re the last ones waiting to go out. As his hand lingers, I get the sense he noticed my nervous glances at not-Seth.
“It’ll be fine,” he says, vague enough that it could mean anything, but keen enough that I know he’s talking about Seth.
I simply nod. Then they call for him and he slouches out there, offering a curt wave before he stuffs his hands in his pockets and rushes to his seat. It’s exactly what the fans expect and want from him, but it’s also just Shawn. His shyness isn’t an act. The way he keeps his eyes down, only glancing up briefly to take in the size of the crowd, is not an affectation. He couldn’t be anyone but himself even if he wanted to, and it’s one of the things I like most about him. It helps to have that kind of guy in your inner circle when you suddenly go from a store clerk to a famous musician nearly overnight.
Shawn sneaks another look up, and I could swear his eyes go directly to a specific spot in the crowd, as though he recognizes one of those people waiting for us. That would be absurd, obviously. If a fan ever got close enough toknowone of us, Seth would shut it down instantly.
Unless he was distracted.
I check one last time, but it still isn’t Seth standing behind me. The guy’s name is Ryan, I think. Seth introduced him to all of us before this, said he’d be taking the lead on this event while Seth hangs back. It’s supposed to be good for us, a way to transition to our official security team without leaving a gap in the meantime, but I absolutely hate it.
I shove my feelings down when they call my name and I step out of the greenroom. The fans erupt, battering me with a wall of screaming that’s almost solid in its intensity. That isn’t mere ego. The noise that hits me trembles through me like an earthquake. I smile genuinely. I like the fans. I appreciate the way they’ve changed my life. When I go out there and sing, it really is for them. So I don’t find it difficult to beam at them and wave as I pass my whole band and take my seat at the far end of the table.
The new bodyguard, Ryan, follows me out, silent and grim, and stands behind me. He’s responsible for the entire band, but I’m sure Seth emphasized that he should keep an eye on me in particular. That isn’t just Seth’s paranoia. If I polled the whole band, they would likely agree.
The line starts moving, and we open just about every pen and marker on that table as the autographs begin. We sign shirts, posters, body parts. All the while, Ryan watches us, a shadow looming over our shoulders. Sometimes we have to stand up because someone wants a picture. Okay, not sometimes. A lot. I’m up and down so much my thighs ache, and there’s still a ton of people left.
I glance at Shawn beside me, and he echoes my feelings with a shrug. How did this happen to five guys who were no one a year ago? There was no gradual build up like some people get. Sure, we had some dedicated fans back in our indie days, but nothing even close to the level of stardom we’re experiencing today. No aspect of our lives could have prepared us for what is now our reality.
The next fan comes down the line. He’s bouncing, literally bouncing, with excitement, but for once I’m not the target of all that energy. He directs it right at Shawn, who raises his eyebrows but doesn’t look quite as surprised as I might have expected.
“Wow, hi, um, would you sign this?” the guy says, sliding a T-shirt in front of Shawn.
It has Levi, Dan and Keannen’s signatures on it as well, but I get the impression that Shawn’s autograph is the real reason this guy waited in that huge line. It’s a little odd. I’ve never seen anyone but me and Keannen get targeted by fans or press quite this intensely. It’s not that the others aren’t talented and interesting, but I’m the band’s unofficial frontman and Keannen has his whole “dating a rival drummer” thing going on, so we’ve absorbed a lot of the attention during this crazy rise.
The fan fidgets while Shawn signs, then takes the shirt like it’s made of gold and not cotton.
“Thank you,” he says, breathless. “Wow, thank you so much.”
“It’s fine,” Shawn says in his simple, monotone way, but the fan before him brightens like Shawn handed him a wad of cash.
The man pauses like he wants to say or do more. I can feel Ryan tensing behind us in case this dude’s a lunatic, but after a pause he skips on. He’s the first person in the entire line who doesn’t make me sign something or take a picture. In fact, as he hurries off, it’s like I don’t exist at all. In a strange way, I appreciate it. It’s nice to be ignored for a change.
“What was that about?” I mutter to Shawn.
His face is blank, as it usually is, but this time I get the sense that blankness is careful and deliberate. “Dunno,” he says.
I don’t get an opportunity to prod him for answers. The line keeps moving, bringing us more fans — and these ones definitely don’t forget I’m here. I sign so many shirts and records and posters and odd trinkets that my hand cramps. It’s almost a relief to stand up for the numerous photos and hugs people request. At least it gives my hand a break. A few people ask me shockingly astute questions about our music, about the tour, about our future. I let myself enjoy it. Ryan’s here to look out for anything weird, so why not? These are our biggest fans. They know our music almost as well as I do. Some of them ask really insightful stuff, some nuance about our lyrics that I never thought that hard about.
I find myself talking too long with some of them, which forces Ryan to step in and move them along. His intrusions serve as a reminder that he’s here and not Seth. Seth is still present, but he insisted on remaining in the greenroom, partially so Ryan can get his feet wet and partially so we can acclimate — soIcan acclimate.
I’m not a fool. I know this is about me. About us. About his fear around what we’ve done … twice. I’ll never convince him it doesn’t matter and he can do his job well even if we want to see each other naked once in a while, and thus, I have to sit here “acclimating” to Ryan and biting back my feelings.
Maybe I can confront Seth later, when I’ve proven with actions that everything is fine, but I have to get through this meet and greet first. Once this goes smoothly and I can show Seth that our tryst didn’t summon some sort of calamity, maybe I can have a conversation about what the future looks like. He might disagree, but I’m sure there’s a way for us to do this. We both clearly want to, so we’ll figure it out. We have to.
The line ends, and Ryan helps clear out the room so we can go back to the greenroom and decompress after all that fan interaction. Levi books it out of the room, but I’m not in as much of a rush. I don’t want Seth to think I’m that eager to get back to him. I force myself to linger, taking my time so I seem completely unaffected by the change.
The others follow Levi’s lead. I sat at the far end of the table for the signing, so I’m last in line to escape to the greenroom, but Ryan calls out before I reach the door.
“I’m so sorry,” he says. “I know it’s a little unprofessional, but do you think you could take a picture with me?”
The request surprises me, but I smile in spite of my exhaustion. The others are ahead of me, and I wave them on. If I can be alone with anyone, it should be the bodyguard. It’s basically his first day on the job, so I suppose some excitement over his famous new clients isn’t unexpected.
“Thanks so much,” he says when I head around the table to join him.
