I should talk. My leg was doing the same thing, only not as pronounced.
“That’s easy for you to say. You’re genetically pleasing. I got nothing.”
“Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself. Without the ugly in the world, there would be nothing beautiful. Thank you for your sacrifice.”
He laughed. “Fuck you.”
“Besides, no one’s going to be watching us anyway. We’re an unsigned band.”
“With big potential.”
“I had big potential withNext in Line,and look how that turned out.”
“Because that wasn’t meant to be. Sketch Monsters, man. That’s the future. Besides, we’ve only been a band for a few weeks and look where we are already.”
Mike was right about that. We’d come far in the past three weeks. Nearly every night was a new city where we’d perform a mini concert with our four measly songs at bars and smaller venues. We were getting our feet wet, Tucker said, proving to the studios that we could pack a room. There were parties and radio shows and heavy interest from labels, but still no firm offers.
And then Tucker got us this—theToday Showinterview. How he’d done it I wasn’t sure. We weren’t big enough to warrant an interview on our own merit, so I had to suspect it was one of two things they wanted to focus on: my meltdown onNext in Lineor my proximity to rock’s biggest star. But Tucker reminded me that we took all publicity no matter the reason it was given to us. It was a hard pill to swallow, knowing that for the foreseeable future my success would be tied to things other than the music the guys and I were creating, but Tucker hadn’t steered me wrong yet, so I agreed to the televised interview, with conditions—no, discussion about my family or my past. They were the same conditionsNext in Linehadn’t honored and the same ones I was pretty damn sure this show wouldn’t honor either.
“Dude,” Mike continued. “We’re on the frickin’Today Show. How many other unsigned bands can say that?”
I nodded, not wanting to burst his bubble by telling him the truth. We weren’t here because of Sketch Monsters. We were here because of Jake. Because of his tragedy. Because of my stupidity. My family. My drama. But we weren’t here for our music. We just weren’t.
I hoped I was wrong… and maybe I was. I couldn’t deny this time felt different. There was an energy in the air, but so far, we hadn’t managed to harness it. Don’t get me wrong; we’d come a long way since standing in front of my parents’ house as I issued my non-apology toNext in Line. As Tucker predicted, the free world press had loved my honesty, splashing it on news feeds and drawing the support we needed. Who knew sympathy could be such a powerful aphrodisiac? My feeds were flooded with women promising to fix my tattered soul. It would’ve been funny if it hadn’t been so mired in truth.
But that worship led to followers, and those followers led to buzz, and that buzz led to views and clicks and sales, so that by the time the music video for our first single, “A Fine Mess,” dropped, we already had a growing fan base, which pushed the YouTube views into the millions. More surprising, the single we’d independently released began climbing up the rock charts. And that was allbeforethe nepotism kicked in with endorsements from some of the biggest names in music. My camp, as well as Tucker’s, had really come through.
Sketch Monsters was launched.
* * *
Cameras began to roll. The introduction was followed by the obligatory back and forth banter. It was easy. Fun. I got in a few barbs at the guys and they on me. Everything was going fine until the beat dropped, the fun-loving faces of the hosts morphed, and I knew… I knew what was coming.
“Of course, the creation of Sketch Monsters came from you stepping away fromNext in Line,Quinn. Do you ever regret the way your time on the show ended?”
“I think everything happened for a reason. The show wasn’t right for me. This band feels like home to me. So no, I don’t regret anything.”
“Speaking of home… you have been uncharacteristically open about your struggles. In a family that’s as famously tight-lipped as yours, has there been any backlash to your speaking out?”
Backlash? Who did they think we were, royalty? We had no rules that needed to be followed. My family was like any other. We kept to ourselves because it was no one else’s business. But I could almost hear Tucker whispering in my ear:Easy, boy.
“No, no backlash. I’ve always been a wild card. My family knows I speak my mind and they’ve never faulted me for it.”
“Why haven’t we heard from you before, then?”
“Because I’ve never been in the position where people cared to listen.”
“I disagree. I think a lot of people would like to hear from you.”
“Sure, but they only want to hear about my family, my past, my brother. They don’t want to hear about me.”
It was a moment of weakness, revealing my insecurities on national television. I had a bad feeling I was about to pay the price for my honesty.
“Fair enough. Tell me then, Quinn. Who are you?”
I sat up, surprised. “Really?”
The interviewer’s face softened. “Yes, really.”
