Page 29 of Backstage

After what feels like an eternity, we get in the car, and Max gives me a look that makes me smile.

“I know it wasn’t a brilliant idea, but I needed to show myself getting out of this damn building. I swear I’m gonna sell this apartment sooner or later,” I explain, and this time he smiles.

I’m used to having people around who understand me and don’t judge me. They don’t ask too many questions, trust the instructions given to them, do their jobs well, and know to take orders only from certain people. They’re the perfect employees when you need privacy and you don’t want your business to end up on the streets.

We get to the record company, and this time we go around the basement parking lot. The journalists should all be sitting in the press room, set up on the tenth floor by now, and I take a deep breath to calm down. I’m always nervous before a press conference because I never know what questions they’ll ask. Journalists are like loose cannons. You never know which one will go off first. Sometimes, people you’ve known for a long time suddenly need to earn a promotion or a new job, and they come up with the most uncomfortable and scandalous questions. Whether you answer them or not, whether you are “guilty” or not, the doubt is still there, and you have to stand there and contain the damage.

I come up from the service elevator, which employees use and gives me access to the offices, so I don’t have to go through the lions’ den, also known as the press area, or gossip room. Because, after all, that’s what they do when they’re not dealing with politics or crime news: gossip. I bet I can count on one hand the questions they’ll ask about the album we’re going to release or the tour we’re going to do; none of them have an ounce of expertise or even a desire to find out what they’re going to write about. It’s a bit like me showing up on stage without learning the songs, singing whatever comes to my head.

“No bullshit, today, please,” Evan begs us when we’re all sitting in his office, some in the armchairs and some on the sofa, but his eyes are fixed on me.

I raise my hands above my head as a sign of surrender. He knows I’m the hothead of the four, but it’s not like he can blame me all the time.

“Look, if they ask me something personal, I’ll leave. I already had to fight this morning to get out of my house. I don’t want to deal with any more bullshit.” I make that clear to him right away.

Evan gives me a dirty look but doesn’t tell me anything because he knows I’ll do it. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve left a press conference. The others sneer because they know that it’s easy to get on my nerves today. I, too, have a tolerance limit and, while I try to keep my anger under control, sometimes I simply need to get away from the people who really make me lose it.

“This is gonna be the fastest press conference in history,” Thomas giggles and I give him a dirty look. I don’t need him to fuel our manager’s pressure on me.

We enter the press room in a line: first Evan, then Thomas, me, Michael, and Simon. The seats have our names on them, although I hope everyone in the room can at least recognize our faces. The buzz from outside dies down when the door closes, and our manager gets everyone’s attention. as we sit down. Evan explains why we’re here and what we’re going to answer: tours and upcoming albums. He dictates the rules at the beginning of every press conference, but I can count on one hand the number of times journalists have actually followed them. When Evan announces that the questions can start, almost all fifty journalists raise their hands. He points to one in the crowd, a blonde girl I’ve never seen before.

“My question is for Damian,” she begins in a warm and, I must say, pleasant voice.

Strange that it’s for me, that never happens, I think, but I smile and signal her to continue. The blonde pushes her chest forward and starts talking into the microphone.

“What’s your relationship with Liliane Jenkins? Are you a couple?”

It takes me a few seconds to realize Lilly’s name is actually Liliane, and then my smile completely fades away. She must be new, I’ve never seen her, and I almost hate to wreck her career like this. But to be honest, if she can’t figure out the simple ground rules maybe she should change jobs now before it’s too late.

I see my bandmates and Evan tense up like violin strings and I can’t help but relate. “Are you really sure you want to start with this question?” I give her a second chance and a buzz of hope spreads across the room.

In the front row, Peter is shaking his head in disconsolation, knowing that he’s got his work cut out for him now; I won’t be as willing to answer questions as when I first arrived.

“Yes.” She wants to be firm, but her voice is shaking.

I let the silence hang in the room, looking into the eyes of many of the journalists present—almost all of them I know. “Gentlemen, you can thank your colleague for making your day much harder.” I see her blushing out of the corner of my eye as everyone gets more concerned, including my bandmates. “For me, the press conference is over.”

I stand up, and a roar of protest explodes. The photographers’ flashes in the back of the room go wild. Evan gives me an angry glare, but I know he won’t get up because he’ll want to try and stop the journalists’ protests. He’ll probably continue the press conference as if nothing happened, and after a couple of questions, they’ll all leave, leaving the press there to dwell on their unproductive day.

I wait in Evan’s office because I know he’ll want to talk to me at the end of the conference, so there’s no point in me leaving and then finding him at my doorstep. At least here I can escape when his yelling gets annoying.

*

Two hours pass before Evan enters, without a word, and I’ve had a chance to brood over all the possible scenarios as he’s never left me alone in his office this long. When Lilly comes in too, my concern deepens; I hadn’t really taken her into consideration.

“Couldn’t you just say ‘There’s nothing going on’ and answer that fucking question?” she yells when she sees me. “But no, you’re too important to stoop to such a thing. And so here I am, in the middle of the day, called into an office to get lectured like a little girl.” She is furious.

I guess she saw the press conference. She doesn’t understand that I did it to protect her, not to be a fickle rock star. “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” I say without even looking at her as she sits down. I’m more focused on studying Evan.

“Oh, really? And yet it seems like a very, very simple question,” she fires back at me.

“In this environment, you don’t confirm or deny anything private. Do you understand that or not?” I yell at her, leaning slightly forward, caught up in my fury. I instantly regret jumping on her like this and back off, putting space between us that feels enormous.

“Leaving, though, you’ve made a bigger mess, don’t you think?” Her voice is powerful as she turns towards me, meeting my fury.

“Who cares about the mess at the press conference! I stopped that question so it wouldn’t lead to others, like why you were terrified on that stage. Should I have said you were afraid of Jenna? And when they came knocking at your door asking why, would you have answered? Because even I don’t know why you’re still stressed out over people’s bullshit after all these months!” I scream louder than she does.

“My life and my answers are not your concern. Think about your questions. Nobody asked you to come to save me.”

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