“Well, that’s pretty dramatic.” I cocked my head. “She’s probably heard the record, maybe they’re killing her.”
“You’d know more than me.”
My heart constricted a bit, but mostly, I tried not to think about the willowy stunner. “I haven’t talked to Alex in a long time, my brother.”
“The truth is, I wish I could hate her.” Ty fixed his eyes on me. “But, I don’t. I could never hate her.”
“What bullshit are you trying to prove by fucking all of these randoms?” I squinted at him.
Ty shook out his arms and hooked his thumbs in his jeans. “I’m just trying to have some fun.”
“Well, is it working?”
“Sometimes?” Ty scrubbed the dark stubble on his face with his hand.
I could relate, though I couldn’t tell Ty that. When I’d learned that Alex was engaged to the Aussie, I’d gone straight back into fuck ’em and leave ’em mode. Consequently, she and I lost touch after our show in Sydney.
With the exception of her angry demands that I protect Zoey after Z was released, which I did, the airwaves had been radio silent between us. Occasionally I trolled her ’Gram, which nowadays only had pictures of her doing charitable things for various animals.
It sucked. Losing touch with the people who knew you before you were famous was one side-effect of becoming well-known. We were away from our families and friends for years at a time, and life went on without us. When we’d get back home, there was an adjustment period to assimilate back into some semblance of a regular routine. Which was virtually impossible because you missed so much day-to-day stuff.
I was still fairly close with Jen, but I hadn’t seen my parents and other sisters in almost a year. My family’s thrill at my fame waned when fame became “normal.”
But being recognized everywhere didn’t allow us to live like normal people.
Another side-effect (or perk, depending on how you looked at it) was the sheer abundance of yes-men/women who surrounded us. People would do anything to spend time with a famous musician. And because they read about you in the press and saw your photos posted all over social, they really thought they knew you.
Sure, the first couple of years it was cool to be recognized. Mostly because I appreciated the fans so much. It got tougher and tougher because more information was available about us. Not much was accurate. The truth of the matter was no one really knew us. Not really. Everyone just thought they did.
The sex, drugs, and rock and roll lifestyle was hard to resist. Women and men propositioned us relentlessly all day long. We had world-class travel and entertainment at the snap of our fingers. Access to anyone or anything at pretty much anytime, whether it was good or bad for you, was expected. The crew and management staff took care of all of our needs, including grocery shopping and laundry. This was a necessary evil because it became a real pain in the ass to try to do any of this ourselves.
A simple trip to the supermarket for a pint of ice cream could, if you let it, turn into a two-hour autograph and selfie marathon in the best of times. Or, a mob-mentality security nightmare in the worst.
I’d often reminisce about that wonderful day in Barcelona with Alex when I was able to roam the streets without being recognized. I couldn’t think of too many days since where I was able to be fully incognito.
We were making our way back to the dressing room when my thoughts were interrupted by our publicists, Sienna and Andrew, who handed me a laundry list of tasks for us to complete over the next two days. We were also presented with invites to a number of parties all over Belfast tonight and again tomorrow after the show. We’d never been to Ireland, and the red carpet had been rolled out.
A big part of me missed being fully in charge of our marketing, but my day-to-day obligations as a member of LTZ had made it too hard to manage both. For the most part, I still kept up our social. But the new team was professional and had long relationships with the media. We had more press coverage than ever. Was it good coverage? I wasn’t so sure. Everything felt contrived.
In my opinion, their strategy was in direct contrast to our core values as a band and as authentic Seattleites.
My biggest concern, at the moment, was that our manager Katherine was on the verge of staging an intervention with Ty. Sienna, in particular, encouraged him to drink and party because he did stupid things that generated press. In my opinion, our singer’s self-destruction had bigger ramifications than how many views LTZ got on YouTube.
But it wasn’t my call on the marketing anymore.
What I could control was steering things with Ty in a more positive direction. Since the Carter debacle, Zane and Ty hadn’t been as close. Zane had also given up trying to stop Ty from partying.
I planned to try to break through. After the photo shoot, we rode to the hotel together and I resumed our earlier conversation.
“I’ve been thinking. I’m going to quit drinking on this next leg of the tour and start working out instead. Do you want to join me?” I knew that if Ty didn’t clean up his act soon, Katherine would likely send him to rehab.
Ty wrinkled his nose. “I don’t know, Jace.”
“No pressure.”
“Look, I know that my emotions have been all over the map for years. I think I’ve finally run out of gas on the anger thing.”
I didn’t say anything, I just looked at him.
“Tell me this—Why is everyone so freaked out about me finally getting drunk and laid? Isn’t that what everyone expected me to do when we
