Chapter 16
The day of the awards show came quickly.
Never having seen them live and onsite, I had no idea what to expect—but I was excited.
I was slated to talk to ten bands and had little notecards with questions…
and, out of all the questions on those cards that were pre-approved by PR teams, Tom told me to ask the most important question first, because I might not get another chance.
And I had some big fucking names on my list.
One of the bands stopping in front of our Ferocity backdrop was going to be Once Upon a Riot. As I got dressed that afternoon for the event, I remembered the text message Braden had sent me, asking if I’d be there.
Was he going to avoid me?
Well, there was nothing I could do about it if he did. Even if he wasn’t with the band, I’d still get to see Dani, Zack, and Cy—and I’d get to wish them luck. I was pulling for them, because getting an award like this could potentially lead to more prestigious awards.
Not that there was any shame in being nominated for an American Alternative Music Award.
I checked myself once in the full-length mirror in my bedroom as sunlight filtered through the filmy curtain. It would be dark by the time the musicians and other nominees would be walking the red carpet, but I and my crew—literally just a videographer—had to arrive a couple of hours before that.
I hadn’t had any say in what I wore, and I wasn’t complaining about it, because I looked very professional—and I would be on camera.
The videos shot tonight would be on Ferocity’s website and YouTube channel, not to mention other social media.
I had on a tailored black suit with a white silk camisole and professional ankle boots—nothing that would distract from the colorful outfits some of the celebrities walking the carpet would be wearing.
And my jewelry was sedated—two small hoops, one in each ear, and a simple silver chain.
Nothing else. There was no missing my tattoos that appeared at the cuffs of the blazer, and I figured that signaled that I belonged.
I didn’t care what anyone thought. I knew I did.
Not wanting to mess too much with my hair, I pulled it into a professional ponytail, again not hiding the purple streaks, but showing more of my face. And I made my makeup a little lighter than usual, knowing that I’d be on camera.
When I arrived at the venue, Jeff, a big guy with short blond hair, and I met up just outside and then we went through security and getting our credentials before being shown where our spot would be.
Fortunately, Jeff and I had worked together before at the occasional festival when we wanted video in addition to print and pictures.
It all depended on the schedule and where our videographers would potentially get the best videos of the most wanted bands.
But I realized that I’d probably be working with them lots more now as my own star rose.
So it was nice to get to know him better.
It took a bit to get our backdrop set up properly and then get the rest of the tech set up. I had one mic that I would be either handing to an interviewee or holding toward them and when I saw Ferocity in its stylized font both around the mic and on the backdrop, I felt like I’d arrived.
Stupid. Don’t let your ego and eagerness take you off your game.
I had to focus.
Still, it was hard to not get caught up in all the energy and buzz surrounding us.
Although Ferocity hadn’t done many red carpet events in the past, we were well-respected in the industry, and I felt like our placement reflected that.
We weren’t first, not where Entertainment Tonight and Vogue were, but at least we weren’t last either.
We were close to Rolling Stone and Kerrang!
so I felt like we were right where we belonged.
A magazine like ours would never be at the front.
Tom had told me that, as showtime got closer, publicists might rush the artists through the line and, because of where we were placed, we might not get everyone we’d been planning.
And I had to be okay with that.
When the first musicians exited a limo at the end of the carpet, I felt a surge of adrenaline, making my vision sharper and my hearing keener. I asked Jeff, “Do I look okay?” After helping him set up the backdrop and tech, I wanted to make sure I was camera worthy.
“Well…I’m more used to your rocker chick look. For a normal person, I guess you look fine.”
Rolling my eyes, I set the mic on the small table and pulled my phone out of my pocket, ready to switch the camera to a selfie. “That’s not what I meant. I meant is my hair fucked up or do I have a piece of spinach in my teeth?”
“You eat spinach?”
“Dude,” I said, feeling exasperated, smoothing the hair at the top of my head. It would have been fine, but I wanted to look extra okay, like I had my shit together.
“I said you look fine.”
“Thanks.” My smile was a little pinched, but that couldn’t be helped.
Tucking the phone back in my pocket where it wouldn’t be seen, I picked my mic up again.
Tom would be back at the Ferocity offices with another crew member where they’d be taking notes.
I had an earpiece in my ear as well so he could communicate with me. Jeff had one too.
As I watched a few bands walk up the aisle toward us, I tried to keep my inner fangirl tamped down.
I loved the music and respected the artists, which was part of why I’d gotten in this business in the first place.
Lots of pop artists walked by—ones that I hadn’t been scheduled to speak with anyway—but it was bizarre being surrounded by celebrities of their caliber, people I knew were truly self-made millionaires and billionaires, having appealed to the ears of millions of people on the planet.
My first few interviews went well, especially because there wasn’t much pressure at first. But, by the time Once Upon a Riot started walking the carpet, showtime wasn’t too far away.
Braden was with the band.
Although I didn’t know what that meant, I did know I could be completely professional—and I knew he could too. I realized as they made their way toward us that maybe he’d asked so he could be mentally prepared.
It took me a second to realize that the woman walking with them had to be Pam, their publicist, but she was nothing like what I’d pictured.
She was an older woman, probably in her fifties, but she looked all business: short light hair—I couldn’t tell if it was light blonde or white—and a charcoal suit with a red blouse.
She seemed pretty discreet, standing back when the band got in front of the cameras and lights flashed or mics got shoved in their faces.
I imagined it could be exhausting for the stars.
Dani looked absolutely stunning. She wore a sleeveless black evening gown that looked appropriate for any celebrity walking the carpet while still maintaining a hard rock edge.
And I didn’t miss that she and Zack were still hands off.
It made me sad for them, because they were continuing to punish each other by respecting Braden’s feelings.
I knew grief worked differently for everyone and no one should have the nerve to tell Braden to get over it, but it had been a year and a half since Dani had run from the wedding.
I knew she and Zack hadn’t gotten together right away and I completely understood why they weren’t displaying their affection, but I felt sad for them.
Until I realized that they might also be doing that to keep the focus on the music and away from drama.
After all, even though the publicity from the wedding fallout had helped the band long term because more people were paying attention, I knew Dani had always struggled to find acceptance and respect as a drummer without being qualified as a woman.
The same could be said of being viewed as a love interest.
Finally, Riot was pausing at Kerrang!’s spot, and I pulled the notecards from out of my other pocket, finding the one for them.
Fortunately, when the band came my way, my professional reporter side took over and Jeff signaled me that he was recording.
The four of them lined up in front of our backdrop and I smiled into the camera while speaking.
“So good to see you guys,” I said, then turned to look at Dani, then Zack.
“Congrats on the nomination. It was well earned. You’re done touring for now, but I’m guessing the fans are curious to know: what’s one song on any of your albums that feels different live than it does on the album? ”
The way Dani, Braden, and Cy looked at Zack told me they were deferring to him. “I’d say ‘Sweet Love,’ and it’s not ‘cause we play it differently but because of the fans. They really get into it.” All three of the other band members nodded their heads in agreement.
“So what’s next for you guys? Another leg for your tour or are you looking to record a new album?”
Zack nodded at Cy, indicating he’d give me an answer, and I realized that Zack had become far more diplomatic since becoming sober.
Of course, I also knew that from conversations I’d had with Dani, but it was nice actually seeing him be less of a control freak.
Cy said, “We’re already working on the next album—so you tell me. ”
I grinned and heard Pam behind me say, “Let’s go.”
Zack said, “Thanks, Roxy.”
Dani said, “We’re gonna hit some of the after-parties. Text me later so we can meet up.”
I smiled at my dear friend, wishing I could hug her, but Pam was all but pushing them down the line.
Braden, however, lingered behind. Pam said, “Braden, we’ve got two more stops.”
“I’ll be there in a minute.”
My throat went dry and my heart began thudding in my chest. What the hell was he doing?
He turned to Jeff. “Is your camera still rolling?”
“It can be.”
Braden didn’t indicate either way what he wanted, but before I shifted my eyes back from Jeff to Braden, I noticed the little red indicator light come back on.
As if a last-second decision, he said to Jeff, “You might want to get this.” Then he turned back to me.
“If you don’t have plans after the show, I’d like to take you to dinner. ”
“Um…” I got ready to tell Braden that wasn’t such a good idea—because I would not be strung along again. After all, this was the guy who’d let go of my hand like I had leprosy when we were leaving that restaurant back in Boston—and now he wanted to say something in front of a camera?
But the words got stuck in my throat and Braden continued speaking.
In that tiny fraction of a minute, though, I finally assessed him.
He wore a black suit with a white shirt and blue tie, looking very business like, and it made him look all the more handsome.
He wore his brown hair naturally, not pulled back, but long and straight and beautiful.
He was breathtaking—and I had to remind myself that I had set a boundary and I had to keep it.
“I want to take you to dinner publicly. I want to date you. And I don’t care who knows.”
“Braden, let’s go!” barked Pam’s voice not far off.
But Braden wasn’t done talking. “If you’re interested. If not, I completely understand.”
That fangirl feeling I’d been suppressing all night had welled up in my throat, transforming into a smitten girl who was all but head over heels for the guy in front of her.
Was Braden actually saying what I thought he was saying?
But my tongue wasn’t fucking working. And he added, “You probably have to go to some after-show stuff, right?”
“Um…no. I can go to dinner.” My words came out clipped, almost like a robot, as I forced them out.
But I’d managed to say it.
Braden smiled and pulled me into an unexpected embrace, and I wrapped my arms around him, still gripping the mic. Then he turned and faced the camera while Pam began marching toward us.
Braden, one arm around my waist, said into the camera, “You got that? I’m dating Roxy French.”
My eyebrows all but jumped off my forehead as Pam literally grabbed Braden’s wrist, but I couldn’t miss Dani in the background clapping her hands together with glee.
“Come on,” Pam ordered, but Braden wasn’t offended by her behavior in the least. Instead, his eyes looked soft and dreamy… and my heart swelled in response.
“I’ll call you later.”
The rest of the red carpet? I couldn’t remember a damned thing. I was grateful that the professional reporter in me kicked in and took over…
Because the rest of me was a giddy mess, on the verge of happy tears all night long.