Page 76 of Your Rhythm
Whether orchestrated as a misguided PR stunt or simply the product of uncontrolled excess, Ace Turner’s alcohol-fueled antics have shifted media attention away from the band’s actual accomplishments. As Pearson himself says, “lately I haven’t felt like it’s my music that’s had an impact on anyone.”
Some fans have even turned their backs on the band altogether. In a public Facebook post that recently went viral, Emily Laframboise, a Montreal mother who purchased tickets for her sixteen year-old daughter to attend Sherbrooke Station’s upcoming Metropolis show, demands “a refund, since this event obviously isn’t somewhere it’s safe for my underage child to be,” and urges other parents to do the same.
Unimpressed fans, label drama, and an unfortunate knack for being around the wrong camera at the wrong time all spell out a recipe for irrelevancy. The band’s career hasn’t yet laid the foundations to support the drama they’ve surrounded themselves with, and they’re bound to wear out the patience of fans by playing the role of entitled rich rock stars—long before they’ve earned a sense of entitlement or even gotten rich. The group has as much staying power as that ‘Ace Turner Gets Punched’ meme you probably saw, shared, and promptly forgot.
Sherbrooke Station might be the next stop on the line, but it certainly won’t be the last. It’s safe to say that when their five minutes are up and the fame train starts rolling again, these amateurs will be too busy sorting through the quagmire of their own meagre success to even bother hopping on board.
* * *
I flipthe sheets of paper closed with so much force one tears away from the staple.
“She didn’t write this.”
David shrugs. “That’s her name on it.”
“Where did you even get this?” I demand.
“We keep an eye on what the press is saying about our bands,” he answers cryptically. “We saw the article inLa Gareback in March and looked into it. We had to shut down one of Kay Fischer’s stories in the past.”
She never mentioned anything about that.
“I don’t believe she wrote it,” I repeat, louder this time.
I toss the article onto the table before I can start ripping it to pieces in front of everyone here. The rest of the guys are only just finishing now. Cole looks up at me and the corner of his mouth twitches.
“You told her all this?”
JP doesn’t show any reserve in mashing the papers into a ball and tossing them over his shoulder.
“Câlice.Bien sûrshe wrote this. Who else would know all this shit? I told you she was a snake.Tabarnak,Matt, if you hadn’t been thinking with your dick—”
David coughs to cover up a laugh.
I wheel on him. “Is something funny here?”
“Not really, no.”
I glare at him until he seems threatened enough to give some kind of explanation.
“Kay Fischer tried to get us on plagiarism accusations last time. She was...seeing one of our interns during her research.”
A bomb goes off in my head, the explosion so loud it leaves my brain ringing.
“That’s enough,” Nadine interrupts.
I can barely focus on what she’s saying. Kay never told me about an ex at Atlas.
Does he still work here? Have I met him before? Why would she hide that?
“We’re not here to talk about Kay Fischer,” Nadine continues. “WhatLa Garesays about you, good or bad, doesn’t matter. It’sLa Gare.” She waves her hand like she’s swatting away a mosquito. “We’re here because you went against your agreement to refer all contact with the press to our PR department.”
“Hold on.” Cole leans forwards in his seat. “Thiswasall agreed to by PR. If some journalist you approved wrote an article you don’t like, we’re not at fault.”
“You never received approval to communicate with Kay Fischer.”
“Yes we did!” JP crows. “Matt said...”
His face falls as the realization catches up with him.
