When the reporter asked, “What inspired the new single?” I snorted without meaning to do it audibly. It just slipped out and all three of them looked over at me for a second.
I wanted to crawl into a hole and die.
Zane crossed an ankle over his knee and sighed. “It imagines someone who’s moved on from heartbreak and one day discovers their ex’s life sucks. It celebrates that spiteful side we all have that goes…you know what? You deserve this.”
My stomach twisted into knots and that too familiar fear that I was going to puke crept back to the surface.
The reporter nodded sagely. “And is it about a particular ex?”
I held my breath.
Zane spread his hands. “I think it’s a pretty universal experience a lot of people can relate to.”
The reporter pushed, “I just wondered…since your early music is well known to have been related to heartbreak you experienced, whether the new album reflects a new stage to that experience, a genesis for you as an artist in terms of your sound but also personally of moving on…?”
How weird was it having people know this much about your life? People knew I’d turned down a proposal, but they didn’t really care about it as it related to me personally. They weren’t analyzing the food I cooked to see if they could tie it to some deeper meaning about my past they all knew about.
Zane thought for a second. “It’s definitely a new direction for us musically, leaning more into a blues sound than a rock sound, but we’ve really enjoyed trying something new.”
An artful dodge.
Zane was so charming, so perfectly comfortable in his own skin that you couldn’t take your eyes off him.
When had that happened?
He’d always been charismatic, but he used to be less certain, a little less assertive. He was larger than life now, a true lead singer.
It wasn’t like he took up too much space in an obnoxious way where that was his intention, more like he was the sun shining on all of us. He couldn’t help being brighter, being that source of warmth and light we were all drawn to.
The reporter seemed to take a hint and pick a different angle. “When Kelly first found you heartbroken, playing in a studio storeroom when you were supposed to have been rehearsing, could either of you imagined that all this would come of it? That you’d be selling out three nights at the new arena here in London?”
I’d never heard the story of how they met. If something good happened as a result of harm I caused, did it lighten the blame?
It was the only reasonable outcome. I did what was necessary.
If I said it to myself enough times, maybe I’d start believing it.
Zane smiled, looking for all the world like he’d never stopped to consider how successful they’d been in ten years. “It’s been a wild ride and I don’t think any of the three of us could’ve imagined where we’d be. We didn’t think the kind of music we wanted to make was the kind of music that became this popular. It wasn’t radio music or chart-topping music, but we hoped we’d find a niche. It turned out we were wrong about the size of our niche…”
The reporter laughed.
“We’re going to wrap up there.” Zane’s publicist swooped in from the doorway.
They plugged the upcoming tour dates, signed off, and said their goodbyes as the reporter and camera guy grabbed their stuff. Gabriella spoke quietly with Zane, seeming to have forgotten I was even there.
When the others closed the door behind them, she tugged on Zane’s jacket. “Can we show a little skin for this one? You’ve got great arms and never so much as wear a tank top. I bet if you played this in your undershirt it would go viral.”
Zane shot her a look. “We’ve talked about this shit.”
She pouted. “We have. But one of these days you’re going to cave and the views will be worth it. Type Zane into a search bar and the second most searched thing that comes up is ‘Zane shirtless.’ Bitches are thirsty.”
He rolled his eyes. “What’s the number one search?”
She smiled. “‘Zane girlfriend.’ Happy to revisit that one too whenever you’re ready.”
His scowl returned.
She shrugged. “I’ll go see if they’re ready.”
