“So, talk,” he said.
“As I was saying. I’ve got this all written up and ready to go, more or less. But we still don’t have anything newsworthy to put in it. There’s no story here. I made a freaking spreadsheet to brainstorm ideas. I talked to Yash. But…”
“But?”
Alrighty, here comes the hard part.
Just say it.
I took a breath and admitted, “I’ve realized… that I’m not really sure you actually need a publicist right now.”
There. Said it.
He gave me a look. “What, are you trying to fire yourself now?”
“Kind of?”
He scowled, like I made no sense. “Why?”
“Because the more I go over it… Yes, there’s this scandal in the media. There’s Brianna’s side of it. And maybe soon we’ll hear JC’s. You can put yours out there, too. But honestly… it’s not your public or media persona that matters here, ultimately. It’s not the public that has an issue with you.”
He was listening, so that was something. Even if I’d just sort of fired myself.
“Keep talking,” he ordered.
“Okay. Your PR, in this case, really needs to start, and maybe even end, at home. Literally here in Vancouver. We’re not having this conversation right now because you’re struggling to sell records, or because listeners don’t like you or your music and you’re trying to get more positive album reviews and interviews in magazines. We’re talking because your colleagues are jumping ship right now and that’s a problem for you, right? It’s your colleagues you need to concern yourself with. If you can get your next album out there, the fans will buy it.”
“If?”
“When. When you get your next album out there. But right now, you’re getting doors slammed in your face at the industry level, right here, among your peers.”
“So, maybe I go back to Toronto. I’ve recorded there before. Or L.A.. Or somewhere else. I can pull together the band anywhere and record.”
“First of all, your problems go where you go.”I would know.“These problems will follow you until you address them. You think Cary Clarke and JC, and whoever else doesn’t want to work with you tomorrow, doesn’t have reach beyond Vancouver? And second… you really want to leave your home, what you’ve built here, Shayla, everything… because of other people’s opinions of you?”
Okay, that got to him. I could see it. The gears were turning in his head.
“This is your home, Johnny. You’ve put a lot of money and work into building this, for you and your sister, and for your future. Vancouver real estate is a smart investment. Owning two homes where you can live with your sister, build family and community, is smart. Lean into that. What’s not smart is running away.”
He pushed stir fry onto a plate and put it in front of me. “Who says I’m running?”
“Everyone in the industry, if you leave Vancouver now in the midst of this mounting shitstorm.”
He handed me a fork.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He made himself a plate, sat down across the island from me and started eating.
“You want to make a big deal, publicly, out of Cary Clarke pulling out of your project?” I went on. “You leave town, you just made it into a headline. Right now, it’s pretty buried. Producers change projects all the time. It’s mildly interesting music news, but it’s inconclusive of anything. You leave town and suddenly people start connecting dots. And who comes out looking good in that story? Cary. The producer who jumped ship because of your ‘love triangle’ scandal and your playboy reputation. He’s a family man. And he’s a fellow rock star. One who overcame a huge loss, publicly, to be where he is. He’s a hero, Johnny, in the public eye and among his peers. Your peers. Which, I’m sorry to inform you, makes you the villain.”
He took that in.
I tasted my stir fry. “This is freaking delicious.”
“I’m the villain,” he said, as maybe it sank in.
“In this story right now, yes. Which is why we need to change the story. For you, like I said, that needs to happen at home. Right at the root of the problem.”
