Page 5 of The Wiener Across the Way

I pulled the wig off and shoved it into a shacket pocket but kept the sunglasses. They didn’t need to know I wasn’t wearing any makeup. I did give my cheeks a little pinch though, to give them some color. The cameras liked when my face was rosy and smiling. So that’s what I’d give them.

We stepped out into the world of flashing cameras and shouting reporters, and I put on my best smile. One day, I’d find a way to really walk tall, not just faking it for the media.

Pen wasn’t kidding when she said we had a full day. We went straight to the studios of one of the local news stations for a press junket that entailed six ten-minute interviews, back to back to promote the tour. Thank goodness they had hair, makeup, and wardrobe ready for me.

Too bad none of the reporters cared a lick about my music or the concert. They sure did care about Jake Jay. The number of times I had to tell them that no, I hadn’t seen his latest movie, and no he hadn’t drunk dialed me like the rumors said, and no we were never, ever, ever getting back together, was exhausting.

He had drunk dialed me. A lot.

I really needed to block his number.

After escaping the relentless barrage of relationship questions, my screwed-on smile literally ached. All I wanted to do was take Pooh for a quiet walk, away from the cameras, and then crash in our posh hotel in Peachy Creek.

But first we had another press conference. This one for the reporters who hadn’t scored the one-on-ones. Two things I knew that got people cranky were feeling left out and being hungry. Same.

While I knew they were all waiting in the studio area, I motioned for Penelope. “Can you arrange for catering to bring them snacks, please? Get them some charcuterie boards. Everyone loves those things.”

Well-fed reporters were much kinder to me. Although, god forbid they see me eat.

We recorded the fifteen second spot that would play during prime time for the next couple of days, and I had the makeup artist give me a quick refresh before I psyched myself up onemore time to face a sea of reporters. They were all itching to ask about my love life, but I had a different plan.

I walked through the side door to the studio and into a barrage of questions. The snack table was pretty much eviscerated, but I snagged a couple bits of cheese on my way up to the table with the mics. Pooh wagged her little tail as I set her down on the stool set up especially for her next to me. She knew what was coming.

Just as the first reporter geared up to ask me a predictable question about my dating status, I leaned into the microphone with a conspiratorial smile. “Before we start, I just want to say I’m thrilled to announce a new love in my life.”

Penelope and my agent, Skeeter, looked at me with giant bug eyes straight out of a sci-fi romance novel. I gave them a conspiratorial eyebrow waggle. They hated when I went rogue. But I knew what I was doing. Time to win the reporters over.

The room went silent, every reporter ready to pounce on the juicy tidbit. Flashes popped and recorders clicked on, capturing what they thought would be a sensational revelation.

“Yes,” I nodded, my smile broadening, “I’ve fallen head over heels for... cheese.”

I reached for the little plate of food on my right and popped a piece into my mouth, and then fed a tiny sliver to Pooh.

There was a moment of stunned silence when I thought I might have just blown it. I rarely talked about food and never ate in front of anyone else. There was just too much harassment from people who thought they knew my body better than I did. But something about today made me say fuck it. Before I could completely overthink it, the room erupted into laughter. Some reporters looked confused or surprised, others amused.

“I mean it,” I said, chuckling along with them. “Have you tried the brie here? It’s life changing. And don’t even get me started on the gouda.”

A reporter from a well-known entertainment magazine raised her hand. “Kelsey, are you saying your love life is... cheesy?”

Yes. I got ‘em.

“You could definitely say that.” I flashed them my best smile, as close to a genuine one as I could give. “Okay, and now that you know my deepest, darkest secret, can we talk about my tour? I promise it’s going to begrate.”

The air quotes and my super dorky joke made them all putty in my hands. And not a one of them said anything about how I was glorifying obesity by eating a piece of cheese. Huh.

The rest of the press conference went better than normal. Reporters asked about my show and the upcoming festival in Aspen, tried to get me to tell them which songs from past albums I’d do, and, of course, my favorite cheese pairings. It was refreshing and, honestly, a lot of fun.

I left the room feeling lighter than I had in days. Who knew a little humor could turn the tide of an interview? Maybe I should start taking my relationships with dairy products more seriously. Although, there would inevitably be the haters who, once again, would tell me to eat a salad.

After a quick appearance at a shopping center, where I sang my first hit, “Book Boyfriend” to thousands of screaming fans who also knew every word and sang along, we finally got to the hotel and I went straight to my room and changed into day jammies.

The luxury and quiet of the place were a stark contrast to the chaos we’d just left. I slumped into one of the plush chairs, my exhaustion manifesting not just in my body but in my soul. Skeeter and Penelope were already waiting in the suite’s spacious living area, their expressions a mix of concern and anticipation.

“I’m so done with every single reporter only wanting to talk about who I’m dating—or not dating.” I understood the nature of parasocial relationships, but honestly, why did they care so much? “It’s like my music doesn’t even matter to them anymore.”

It used to be about the music.

Skeeter, with her ever-business over emotion demeanor, flipped open her tablet and tip-tapped away at whatever secrets it held within. “Kels, you know how this industry works. Your personal life has always been a big sell. Maybe we should give them something to talk about. A new relationship, perhaps?”

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