Fortunately, I had the drums to pound and I internally chastised myself.They’re acting, I told myself.And, besides, what if they aren’t?
I shouldn’t care. Zack and I were history. I was in love with Braden.
Once we’d filmed that scene enough and from every possible angle so that Jean Pierre was satisfied, he said to Zackand Elidi, “You are doing an amazing job, both of you. I could get you jobs in Hollywood tomorrow.”
There was a general wave of noise as everyone, especially the extras, let him know they agreed.
“Would the two of you feel comfortable kissing? It would really sell the story. Would you be okay with it?”
Zack said, “Only if you are.”
Elidi’s dark lips curled into the biggest smile I’d seen from her since meeting her. “Yes.”
If I’d thought I was feeling a green-eyed monster taking me over earlier, I’d been kidding myself. Watching them pretend to fall in love and then genuinely seem to enjoy the kiss made my stomach knot. Over the kiss, the crew kept playing the guitar solo, an upbeat, slightly bluesy but fun interlude, and after the first time, Jean Pierre said, “Excuse me, people. Yes, we’ll befocusingon these two, but you all still need to perform and act. The music is still playing.”
The assistant director said, “I thought you wanted it all to fade away—to still.”
“Well, we obviously got that shot, but the solo is almost twenty seconds and we don’t get back to the chorus again for another twenty—so we need to get shots of everything. So stop gawking and play your parts.”
All of us, extras included, did as we were told. After another take, Jean Pierre told a couple of extras to “go ahead and gawk” in an emotional way. When his direction didn’t elicit the response he’d been wanting, he told a few of the female extras, “Imagine you were watching Cinderella fall in love in front of you. How would you feel? How would that show on your face?” After a second, he said, “No. That’s not realistic. No overacting, please. Try again.” Then, after another pause, he said, “Perfect. That’s exactly what I’m looking for.”
And so Zack and Elidi kissed over and over and over again.It was excruciating…and I nearly made myself sick with a feeling of possessiveness, no matter how much I told myself Zack didn’t belong to me.
Truthfully, he never had.
The last scene was of the three of us playing the last chorus and end of the song on stage while Zack and Elidi “left” to be with each other. They even shot a scene of Zack holding the passenger side door of a red Lamborghini for her to step in, and then they shot someone else driving it quickly down the street. All these scenes were done multiple times until Jean Pierre was satisfied.
Then they got more shots of the crowd jamming out to the song.
By the time we wrapped between ten and eleven, the chain-link fence was lined with fans excited to hear our new tune, even if it was in chunks. Jean Pierre said, using his megaphone, “Extras, thank you for your work. You may go now.” Then he turned to the rest of us. “We areprobablydone but after I view the dailies, I might change my mind. Report here at eight sharp in case we need more.”
After signing lots of autographs for the extras and the crowd outside, I was tired and my jealousy had simmered down.
Until Zack left with Elidi.
Jesus Christ. When the hell would I ever get over Zack?
Before we could barely catchour breath, we were back on the road again for the tour to support our album which came to be calledThe Grind, and I figured that was, at least, the label’s way of acknowledging the original name of our first single. There was one line in the first verse that would at leastexplain to fans where the name came from:I’m goin’ back to the grind, but you know I like it.
And it mirrored how we all felt. Despite how hard our first tour had been, going back on the road was something we were all looking forward to. One cool morning in late September, the four of us climbed aboard a bus much like the one we’d grown used to the year before. This time, however, we were a bit older even though we probably weren’t at all wiser.
Zack and Elidi had been dating, but it wasn’t clear when it had fallen apart. Zack had flown to L.A. twice and I knew they’d met in Denver for a few days between the video shoot and the beginning of the tour. I’d seen photos of them online, several days before the video dropped. I didn’t know who the photographer was who’d figured out they were semi-celebrities and captured their images for some tabloids, but I figured it must have been due to Elidi—because, even though our fans considered Once Upon a Riot to be celebrities, I didn’t imagine anyone else in the world did. Her face was likely more recognizable.
Part of me was both sad and seething that no one in the media knew that Zack had been mine first. No one knew about our history. Instead, the world knew that Braden and I were a couple. Time and time again, I had to scold myself for letting any of it bother me.
Based on our last practice the day before we got on the bus, I suspected Zack’s relationship was over with the model (although I didn’t confirm it until the next day), because of something he said. He made a comment to Cy aboutupping my body count this go round. I turned that phrase over and over in my head as we played until I realized he was talking about having sex with multiple female fans over the next two months.
But it wasn’t until we were on the bus that my suspicionswere confirmed. Late that morning as we drove through Grand Junction preparing to leave our home state, Cy muttered something to Zack to which our frontman responded, “It was good while it lasted.”
Cy said, “Weren’t you afraid you were gonna snap her in half with your bratwurst?”
Zack started laughing. “Yeah. She was sweet and gave good head but shewashard to bang. Plus she never fucking ate. Likenever. I saw her eat a few lettuce leaves once. That’s too weird for me.”
I shouldn’t have been as happy as I felt, taking delight in others’ misery, so I curled up closer to Braden, pretending I hadn’t heard.
It was good to see Mick again, and a few of our old roadies were back with us. Unlike the first tour, I felt more relaxed—and, strangely enough, more respected. When we’d first boarded the bus, we met the new people and greeted the old, and many of the roadies who’d worked for us before smiled at me and shook my hand, just like I was one of the guys.
It made me even happier to be here.
