Songbird (15 page)

Chapter Sixteen

I
couldn’t sleep. I was used to getting up early, it was a hard habit to break now. We were staying in Miami for three nights, for once I didn’t have to run to meet the tour bus.

I let Forest sleep beside me, he looked so peaceful I couldn’t bear wake him. I grabbed my phone from the nightstand and started flicking through my messages. There were hundreds of them, just like there was every day. I ignored all the ones from my agent and tried to find anything that might be deemed important from my friends.

Invitations, Facebook updates, an email from my lawyer about a potential contract issue, and spam. Nothing screamed that it needed my immediate attention. I brought up a game instead and tried to get to the elusive next level.

My phone vibrated with an incoming call in my
hand as I played. Caller ID said it was Mom. I answered. “Hey, Mom.”

“Honey, I’m so glad you answered. Are you okay?” She sounded relieved. I dreaded the conversation we were about to have, my gut told me something was up.

“I’m fine. Everything alright there?”

“I’m watching the news.” I groaned, that was never a good thing.

“And what’s on the news?”

“Brierly, you’d tell me if you were having problems again, wouldn’t you? You’d ask for help?” She asked, her voice full of concern.

“Of course, Mom. What are they saying about me now?” I considered flicking on the television myself but knew it would probably only make me angry.

“There’s a picture of you eating a piece of pie, they’re saying you’ve gone on a binge. They say you’ve relapsed.”

No matter how many times I told my parents not to believe a word the media said, they always did anyway. If my own parents believed the media was gospel, I had no chance of convincing anyone else they were only reporting lies. It was ridiculous to think me having a snack was headline news.

“Brierly, maybe this tour is too much for you,”
Mom finished.

“
Mom, I had some pie when I met up with Mikayla yesterday. It wasn’t a big deal. I’m absolutely fine, seriously. Demi has been watching me like a hawk, and even if she wasn’t, I’m doing really well. I have no intention of going back to how I used to be.” That was probably the fiftieth time I had told my mother those same words. She always pretended to believe me but obviously it only lasted until the next scandal was reported.

“Brierly, don’t feel like you have to continue on with the tour,” she continued relentlessly. “Your health is worth more than any ticket sales.”

I slapped my forehead with my hand as Forest stirred to life beside me. Perhaps I should have gone with my instincts and awoken him for some fun instead of answering the phone. Where was that time machine when you needed it?

“
Mom, everything is going really well. I haven’t felt this good in ages,” I tried desperately to reassure her. “I love being on tour. It’s tiring, but it’s good. I’ll have no trouble finishing it.”

She sighed. I could picture her sitting in the kitchen of her house in Los Angeles, staring out the window that overlooked the large back lawn. She was probably sitting on a chair, wondering what she was going to do with her problem child.

Forest got up as I waited for her to continue. Without a stitch of clothes on him, he crossed the room to check his own phone. He was hot clothed, but naked he was glorious. Clothes should be banned, I was going to make it a new rule for my room.

“Honey, how about you come home for a visit next time you have a few days off? I can
organize it with Demi.” Mom never completely understood how crazy my schedule was. She thought I spent half my days getting fake tans and my hair done.

“I’ll think about it,
Mom.”

Forest flexed his muscles as he caught me staring. He put on a show for me, pretending he was a bodybuilder. He was way better than a bodybuilder.

“Do think about it, your father and I really miss you. We’d love to have you for a whole weekend,” Mom continued. I almost forgot she was there for a second.

Forest lazily wandered over to the window, peeking through the curtain. He opened it before I could stop him. “Forest, don’t-”

“Forest, who’s Forest?” Mom asked.

“I have to go.
I’ll talk to you later, Mom,” I closed the line, scurrying over to the window and snatching the curtain so I could close it. As I did, I caught a glimpse of what I was hoping I wouldn’t see – photographers on the ground with their lenses pointed directly at my room. “You shouldn’t be by the window, do you know what you’ve done?”

“Whoa, calm down,” Forest said, taking a step back like I was a wild horse about to buck. “I was just checking the weather.”

“And now a million people are going to know I had my naked guitarist spend the night.” I no longer wanted to be naked. I lunged for the robe and quickly put it on, throwing the other one at Forest. I wanted to strangle him with the belt. “Demi is going to go ballistic when she hears about this.”

“I’m sorry, Brier, I didn’t know they would be out there.” How could he not know? Rule number
one when around me: expect photographers to be
everywhere
. They didn’t give up just because I went indoors, that’s usually when they grew bolder and pulled out the super telescopic lenses.

“Of course they would be out there, they are always out there. You’ve been with me long enough to know that.”

“Calm down, don’t you think you’re overreacting a bit here? So they got a picture of me, it doesn’t mean anything,” Forest said. His efforts to settle me down weren’t working. Just saying ‘calm down’ didn’t calm someone down like magic.

“Overreacting? Your naked photo is probably right now being beamed around the world for all my fourteen year old fans to see. What are their parents going to say?” I waited for the answer, but he didn’t have one. No, nobody ever thought about the consequences of something no-one else would have to consider.

“I should go,” he sighed. He angrily grabbed his clothes and took off without changing. He slammed the door behind him, making the picture on the wall rattle.

He could be angry, fine, it didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to be the one dealing with the fallout. He wasn’t going to be the one fielding questions about his new lover and what kind of an example he was setting for his young fans. An eating disorder was one thing, choosing to sleep around was something else entirely.

My phone beeped with a reminder, telling me it was almost time to leave for the day. I took a few deep breaths, had a shower, and put my game face on. The media could smell fear and I couldn’t let them know they got to me. I had to be in the right frame of mind to shrug off their questions with a laugh. If they got a hint of worry, they would latch onto it like a Pitbull.

By the time Demi was pounding on my door, my hands had stopped shaking and I could talk without clenching my teeth. There was no way I was going to give her a reason to give me a lecture about dating
Forest. She already disapproved enough, I didn’t want to give her any more ammunition. She could see the photos with the rest of the world.

“Ready?
” She asked, her usual stressed-out-but-perky self. I nodded and we headed downstairs. My driver was ready and waiting to take us to the venue.

“I’m here all day, right?” I asked as we approached. There were already easily a thousand
people milling around the fenced off field. They weren’t all there to see me for a change, I was sharing my audience with a lineup of artists as long as my arm.

The Miami
Rockin’ Music Festival attracted all kinds of performers. From the mainstream like me to the completely out there, there was something for everyone. Which is why the festival was on the must-do list for most music lovers.

“Yes, all day,” Demi replied, tapping away on her phone. “You have a few appearances in the meet and greet tent where they’re expecting you to pose for
limited photographs and sign autographs. In between, you’ll be performing on the main stage a total of three times. It’s important to keep a track of your schedule, the lineup is too tight to miss a cue. They’ll skip right over you and expect you to wait for another spot.”

She rambled on about keeping time and not letting them down for another twenty minutes. I tuned her out, it didn’t matter anyway. She would be running around after me, telling me where to go and for how long all day. As long as she knew what was going on, I didn’t need to.

As soon as we arrived, I was shuffled along to the meet and greet tent. Long lines of young festival goers were already waiting. I took one of the ten tables and started getting through them.

I loved days like that. Any time I got to spend one on one with my fans, I would accept and do happily. Performing was a buzz, but meet and greets were a slow burn. Everyone was always so nice to me, I could barely believe the kind words they said.

“You’re the reason why I started playing the guitar,” one girl of about sixteen started shyly. “The first song I learned was
Sea Green Eyes
.” That was one of the first songs I ever wrote.

I stood up and gave her a hug across the table. “That’s so wonderful, thank you for coming and telling me that. How long did it take you to learn to play?”

“About six months. I’m not great, but I’m getting better. Is it true you’re going to release an acoustic version of your album?” She looked at me so eagerly, she was the cutest person ever.

“I was hoping to, but it might end up being just a few songs tacked onto a bonus disc or something,” I answered, pretty much honestly. I was going to release an album like that but my record label put the brakes on it. Apparently it wouldn’t fit in with my image, or some crap like that.

“I can’t wait to hear it.”

“Thank you.” I returned her smile with a genuine one of my own. I got
the
look
from my helper and moved onto the next person in the line. I wasn’t allowed to spend too much time with any one person or the line would get too long. People thought celebrities do whatever they want, but we seriously have more rules than you would believe.

I continued on through the line, hearing the same complim
ents from one of my biggest fans after the other. They were all so cute, it definitely put me in a better mood than the incident that morning. Forest and his naked escapade was a problem pushed to the side for a morning.

At lunchtime, I was taken backstage for a break. I could have kept going but I wasn’t allowed to do that either. The schedule said I had a break, so therefore I must have a break.

The backstage area was a large tent with tables set up on one side with all the food and a series of couches and seats spread along the other side. A few television monitors were attached to the walls that played the main stage outside. As far as green rooms went, it was a pretty good one.

As I entered, I was conscious of my band already waiting there taking up a few couches as they sprawled out. I met Forest’s gaze briefly, not long enough to know what was going on inside his head.

Deciding ignorance was bliss, I grabbed some food and found a table. There were none completely empty so I sat at the least populated one I could find.

Sitting across from me was Consentino Mercurio, lead singer of the band Bad Idea. I had met him a few times before at various events. I didn’t think much of him, he seemed to perpetually live with the mindset that
he was God’s gift to the world.

For some reason, he didn’t like me and wasn’t afraid to show it. I had seriously chosen the wrong table. If I could do it without making it obvious, I would have moved somewhere else.

I gave him a smile when he looked up to see who was game enough to invade his personal space. He
humphed
and turned his attention back to his meal.

“They really do let anyone do these things, don’t they?” He asked his chicken salad. His voice was lowered, but not quite enough for others not to hear. Which I’m sure was the point.

I ignored the comment. “Fantastic weather for the festival out there, huh?”

“Didn’t really notice. I was in the zone, the place where real musicians go.”

He had chosen the wrong day to mess with me. “Your insults are getting real old, you know that? If you have something to say to me, you really should just come out and say it.”

He stared me down, his brown eyes burning with a loathing of me. I didn’t look away, I didn’t even blink. I could play that game all day long.

Consentino finally took a deep breath. “Fine then, Brierly, you asked. You are not a musician.”

“I play five musical instruments, I write all my own songs, I sell my songs to other performers, I sell out thousands of venues, what part of that doesn’t make me a musician? I would love to know.”

“You are a reality show wannabe.” He speared a piece of chicken with his fork, attacking it with more fervor than it warranted.

So many people had the same attitude toward me because of how I got my break. So I battled it out for ten weeks on a singing competition, bit my nails through every single elimination, all so I could live the life I knew I was made for. I had probably worked harder than a lot of other pop stars who called in
favors to get their start. I would love to know how Consentino would go on the show. I doubt he would even make it through the first round.