“Thank you very much,” he replies brightly. “You’re not bad yourself. To be honest, I don’t know that I would have been too familiar with your music were you not such a popular media subject lately, but I was able to check you out a while back. I’m impressed.”
“I appreciate that—although, really, I’m just following the formula. ‘Anatomy of a Country Hit’ and whatnot.”
The bartender hands me my drink.
“Sure, maybe with your earlier work,” ACKER replies, “but what you’ve been putting out these days is … different. It’s sort of … raw. In a good way. Don’t be afraid to own that.”
Raw?
I consider my last few songs. They’re all about Harmony of course. “In Harm’s Way,” “Everyone’s a Comedian,” “Truth Ain’t Pretty.” I was pushing my luck with “In Harm’s Way,” since it wasn’t completely on brand for me; it was “close enough,” A&R said, since it featured a femme fatale, which listeners would automatically associate with the same kind of woman I tend to have in my music videos. The other songs? I only got away with those after PR saw potential in the feud, and because from social media analysis it was clear the fans were on board with the idea too. For once no one seemed care if I was keeping up with the genre, because the lyrical conversation between me and Harmony was far more interesting than anything else. But I hadn’t thought about how honest those songs had been compared to my other stuff. I wasn’t trying to please anyone, I was saying what made sense at the time, setting it to a tune that felt right. Yeah, I kept the sound “country,” but that was just a frame on the photo.
“I’ll try not to,” I say, downing a bit of my tequila.
“That last one—‘Truth Ain’t Pretty,’ right?” When I nod, he says, “It’s got a hint of what I saw in some of those videos that’ve been going around. Your old ones.”
He gets his drink now too and sips off the top.
“Old ones?” I can’t think of any old videos of mine that are anything like “Truth Ain’t Pretty” in terms of style.
“Well first there was a HypeSource article the other day,” ACKER says, “‘Twenty Artists Before They Made it Big—Plus Video Evidence.’ A friend sent me the link because apparently I was mentioned. I hoped to God they hadn’t found any of my early trap stuff, but … they did.” He scoffs. “Anyway, you were init too. Some video from like twelve years ago. Lots of ‘aww’ type comments from viewers ‘cause you were so young.”
My stomach tanks. “No …”
“Yeah.” He claps me on the shoulder. “You’re in good company, though. It also featured Katy Perry singing Christian pop, Taylor Swift doing country at fourteen, and Post Malone before he had the face tattoos.”
I drag my fingers through my hair and sigh, then finish my tequila in two gulps.
“At least you weren’t wearing distressed jeans,” ACKER says with a laugh.
My eyes widen. “Wait—you saidvideos, plural. There were more?”
“Just a few. Similar to that one. Folk-pop, indie type stuff. That’s what I meant about ‘Truth Ain’t Pretty.’ It has those wistful undertones, kinda playful too.”
I’m still stuck on the thought that those videos are being shared at all. How did they surface? All this time, after my growing fame and multiple hits, no one seemed to have gone looking for anything like that. My stage name probably had a hand in making them harder to find. The buzz about my “relationship” must be creating more curiosity about my past.
“Well,” I say, swallowing, “it wasn’t intentional.”
“No, I bet it wasn’t. But you can only fake it for so long.”
I glare skeptically at him. “What does that mean?”
He leans in conspiratorially and lowers his voice. “I means you don’t have to pretend around me, man. Trust me, I know a dude who’s playing along when I see one.”
Drawing back, I say, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Please. I’ve been there. I mean, look at me.” He gestures at himself. “You don’t think I was afraid to do what I really wanted to do? To make the music I wanted to make? You don’t think Itried to do what people expected of me, even when it didn’t feel right?”
ACKER’s hard stare dares me to deny what I’m hiding.
He’s got a point, though. Of all people, he would definitely understand.
“I … guess I didn’t think about what it might have taken for you to get where you are.”
“Some people call me a badass now, but they don’t know how much time I spent trying to fit in.” He sips some more bourbon and Coke.
“It’s still badass,” I tell him, “even if it took a while for you to go for it. I’m the one who hasn’t found the courage to take the leap yet.”
ACKER shrugs. “Never too late.”
