My reclusive image cast aside, I was now a bad boy who treated women like shit and broke their hearts. Crazily, the fans ate it up and so did the companies who paid me handsomely to endorse their products. I partied with celebrities and athletes, went to the best restaurants, vacationed in elite locations, flew in private jets, and indulged in whatever experience came my way. Andrew and Sienna were often along for the ride, on the band’s dime of course.
After a couple of years of bad behavior, Jace offered to get sober with me. I almost took him up on it. Unfortunately, right before he left for a vacation in Italy, he showed me that Zoey’s Instagram account had been reactivated. There was only one recent picture of her. She was stunning. Her hair was wild. She had cute librarian glasses perched on her nose, a cocked brow, and her striking hazel eyes stared into the camera in front of a guy tagged @nickmartin. He appeared to be her boyfriend, considering he was hugging her from behind. The only caption was #lawschoolgrads.
It set me back big time.
Before long, I was off on another European tour full of debauchery. One night I attended an afterparty and went on a bender to end all benders. The next morning, I woke up feeling like death warmed over, but I was not alone. Glancing over at a familiar body in my hotel bed, horror overtook me with the realization that we were both naked. Relieved to find a used condom on the floor, the experience jolted me out of my insanity. I knew that I had to make a change. There were too many nights that I could barely remember. Too many unidentified naked women I’d find in my bed.
I started on a journey to get healthy. Which translated into me stopping drinking completely, changing my diet, adding in workouts with Jace, and putting all my efforts into music again. The timing worked out well because LTZ management had been on my case to clean up my image and demanded that Andrew and Sienna change tactics.
Even at my worst, I’d been religious about protecting myself and getting tested, so I wasn’t facing any little Tys or disgusting diseases. Once I pulled my head out of my ass, I was ashamed to learn that many of my escapades had been widely posted on social media. A simple Google search pulled up thousands of photos of me in various states of depravity. Mortifying. Humiliating. Excruciating.
I realized that I was living a lie, trying on other people’s lives for size. They didn’t fit. At least getting the decadent perks of success out of my system helped cement what was important. I fought hard to escape what could have been a tragic existence. Wasting the opportunities of our achievements was no longer appealing in any way, shape, or form.
To fill up the void once I was through with partying, I wrote songs for artists outside of LTZ. Discovering that I had a talent for all types of music outside of my genre increased my songwriting and publishing portfolio. It also kept me inspired. This entire new wave of creativity also influenced my writing for the band. The four of us collaborated more often and the results made our entire team proud.
More LTZ hit records meant the touring and publicity cycle started all over again, although this time we kept a better control over our schedule to allow more downtime. During our breaks, I worked with artists all over the world as a writer and a producer resulting in hit records and significant royalties for me outside of the band. It was comforting to know that I would never have to worry about my finances again, no matter what happened with LTZ. I was finally secure beyond my wildest dreams. Forever.
And yet, I’d never felt more alone in my life.
Sensing my loneliness, the publicists insisted on setting me up in a “relationship” with a beautiful, kindhearted sitcom actress named Veronica “Ronni” Miller. Ronni had been around the band a couple of times during events and award shows. I liked her a lot and decided that it was time to take a stab at a relationship.
Our romance ended up being only for show. On our first meeting, I went back to her house in Malibu. Ronni’s full, lush lips were made for kissing, but I felt nothing when we tried. Neither did she. After our failed attempt at romance, we sat back on her couch overlooking the ocean and laughed uncontrollably. With absolutely no sparks between us we became good friends and milked the PR ride for all it was worth.
To the world, we “dated” exclusively and were deeply in love. In real life we rarely saw each other but coordinated schedules to be at other’s respective red-carpet events and other Hollywood functions. Our publicists were ecstatic because the tabloids and entertainment world went batshit crazy at the thought of the two of us as a couple. “Tonni” became our moniker, and my bad-boy image improved. Paparazzi followed both of us separately and together wherever we went. Rumors of weddings and babies and cheating followed us everywhere.
As much as I had initial hope for Ronni and I to have a real chance, the fake relationship only served to highlight that I still was in love with Zoey. Like a masochist, I’d saved her voicemail to the cloud, but I only allowed myself to listen to it once in a while. Each time, my anger subsided just a little. I’d abided by her wishes to let her go, but something inside me hoped that she’d change her mind someday.
I’d have very Zen days and sometimes I’d feel like a huge idiot. Until I got
