Page 2 of My Rock Star Neighbor
She leans in.No way.I move, but she gets way too close with that open mouth.But her focus on trying to kiss me gives me the chance to push her arms away, gently—or at least try to make it look as if it’s done gently in any video captured.I’m free.I turn away from her.There’s the van.
Mr.Muscle is back, sticking his body between us and trying to block her.“Get in the van.”
I make a break for it.I hop into the front passenger seat and check to see if everyone else is inside.Sayo is seated next to Kyla, who has her bass case on her lap, José crowded next to them.
I can’t see if that woman is still outside.The crowd seems to be dispersing.It’s cold and dark inside.I stick my hands into my coat pockets.Mr.Muscle jumps into the driver’s seat.
“That was crazy,” I say.“I remembered just in time to not push her away, because that wouldn’t look good on video if I were to push her or hurt her.”
“Are you okay?”Sayo asks.“I wouldn’t like being grabbed like that.”
“I can’t say I liked it either.”I shudder.“We may need more security.I’ll talk to Luca tomorrow.”Luca is one of my best friends and runs his own security company.“But it isn’t a bad thing that the crowd was huge.It means we’re getting more popular.”
The van pulls quickly away from the curb, or as quickly as it can in New York City.We’re soon stopped at a red light, but at least we’re two blocks away.The streets are mostly empty at this hour.I turn my body so I can see my band members behind me.I’m still wired from our concert.José pulls a beanie cap over his hair, nearly hiding his brown eyes.I high-five Kyla, whose tall, lean frame is wrapped in her long red parka, her black curly hair spilling out over it.She gets cold easily.We sang several songs together tonight, and I’m still in awe at how well our voices blend.The light from outside makes the purple streaks in Sayo’s black hair glow red.Amira is behind them, her head bent over, glued to her phone.
“The MusEn guy texted that he wants to meet us tomorrow afternoon,” Amira says.“This could be it.This could be our big break.”
“We can’t get our hopes up,” I say, although mine are rising.“We’ve been here before—with Vinyl five years ago—and it didn’t result in anything.”
“I have a good feeling about this,” Amira says.“Plus, we’ve been making steady progress during those five years.We’re now ten years into this.We have a solid fan base.It’s not like the early days, when we first started and the only people in the bar where we were playing were the other bands performing.”
“Way to bring us back down to earth,” I say.
“And our friends,” Sayo says.
“And your mom and dad,” I say.But not my mom.
A cab swerves right in front of us.I brace against the dashboard.Mr.Muscle honks.
Amira gasps.“That woman who tackled you—she’s saying she’s your girlfriend, and it’s blowing up on social media.She says she’s the Cara you dedicated ‘Goodbye Cara’ to.”
No way!
“Goodbye Cara” was a song about my ex-girlfriend, Christina.And goodbye was good riddance.This YouTube woman clearly doesn’t get double entendre.
“Look at this footage.”Amira leans forward to show me her phone.“It’s too intimate.You look like you’re whispering in her ear, and then you look like you’re arguing with Mr.Muscle that you don’t want to leave her.”
That’s some good editing.It does look like there’s something between us.
“The flashes blinded me.She grabbed me before I could even react.Can’t you simply deny it?”
“I will.I’ll put out a statement,” Amira says.“I’m sorry.I should have hired more security.”
“It’s not your fault.Nobody expected that, and our fans are usually respectful.”A slight chill sweeps through me.“That was crazy.”
“This video is done so well.And she got it up so quickly on her YouTube channel,” Amira says.“I think she planned this to get her subscribers up.She’s trying to take advantage of your YouTube popularity to increase her own.”
“Isn’t that good?”I ask.“We’ve got a clear motivation for what she’s doing, so it will make sense when we deny it.”
“It’s just that she’s so public and seems to have some skill at manipulating the media.I’m your band manager, not a social media guru.”
“You’ve done well so far,” I say.
“Let me call my cousin,” Kyla says.“She does social media for her company.”As our van weaves through the streets of lower Manhattan, Kyla talks to her cousin, who recommends putting out a bigger story to drown this one out.
“I have a very bad feeling about this,” Amira says.
So do I.She had someone there to photograph that “kiss.”She uploaded this video in less than half an hour.I’d been naïve again, trusting our fans, thinking I shouldn’t hire more security and interact behind a barrier.But I was torn.Our core supporters waiting out in the cold did deserve our attention.
