But the music is honest.
When we’re onstage, we’re wearing makeup and outfits specially selected by someone whose job it is to convey things about us through clothing. It’s the work of several people just to light the band properly. Everything is deliberate.
Everythinghasto be deliberate, because the performers are raw and exposed. Performing live, doing it well, requires vulnerability and trust.
Someone once told me all good stories are true. It’s the same with music. If your song doesn’t come from a place of honesty, it’s probably not very good. It might be fun, it might be catchy, it might even win you a Grammy. But it won’t resonate with an audience the way a true story will.
The problem is that sometimes the truth will break your heart.
Chapter Ten
JEFF WALKEDthree blocks before he calmed down enough to call Carter. He ducked into Starbucks for a latte, carefully avoiding the gaze of the other morning patrons, then stepped back outside and hailed a taxi.
Hey, he sent.Don’t suppose you get the local Toronto morning show up there?
He practiced his meditative breathing while he waited for a response. In, two, three, four; hold, two, three, four; out, two, three, four. Again. Again.
Finally Carter’s reply brightened the screen.Watched the YouTube upload. Should I call?
Some of Jeff’s tension uncoiled.Not yet. In a cab. Call when I get home?
Ok.
He gave the driver a huge tip for making it back to his condo so quickly, then stalked into the elevator, his thumb already hovering over the Call button on his phone. He would’ve pushed it, but he didn’t get service in the elevator.
Finally—
“Hey,” Carter said immediately, before the phone even had a chance to ring. “Are you okay?”
Jeff’s knees gave out and he found himself sitting against the door to his condo, legs straight out in front of him. “No.”
“Which part?”
Jeff thunked his head against the door, swamped with guilt. “Is it terrible if I say I don’t really care about the picture of us right now? I mean. I’m not happy about it, I didn’t know it was going to happen, and I’m going to have someone’s head on a plate for blindsiding me with it. And I’m sorry you got dragged into this.” He paused and swallowed past the thickness in his throat. “Fuck, apparently I do care about that too.”
“Hey, hey,” Carter said gently. “It’s okay. I don’t care, all right? It’s not like people around here haven’t wondered for the past fifteen years.”
Jeff groaned and ran a hand down his face. “Sorry. Again. I didn’t exactly consider the potential consequences for you when I was writing all those songs about how”—in love with you I was—“bad I wanted to bone you.”
Carter snorted. “Apology not accepted. I don’t think that’s what tipped people off.”
Probably not. “Anyway. That’s tangential.”
“You’re angry with Trix.”
“I’m furious with Trix. With Tim too. I specifically told his assistant I wouldn’t be fielding any questions about a new album, and the hosts went ahead and asked anyway, which means either they went against his wishes—possible but unlikely, because they like booking celebrity musical talent—or he conveniently forgot to pass that message on.”
“Or he did it deliberately and Trix was complicit.”
Jeff’s stomach twisted. “Yeah. I mean, of the likely scenarios, that’s the one that’s getting to me.”
“I’m sorry. You must feel really betrayed.”
He felt… yeah. Exactly like that. “I know we’re under contract for another album. I know the deadline is looming. Max and Trix have been bugging me about it. But it feels like it never ends. Album, tour, repeat. They want, like, a two-year cycle. That’s just not enough time anymore. I want to enjoylife.” He wanted to spend time with someone who wasn’t in his band. He wanted to be able to date. He wanted Carter, specifically, and he couldn’t see how he’d ever be happy if he only got to see him a few months of the year.
“Yeah,” Carter said meaningfully. “I know.”
Okay, Jeff thought, going warm. Well. Good.
