Chapter 19 Alexander
Wednesday
“And this is in recognition of your album going double-platinum here in the UK,” the head of the UK label says.
The plaque is impressively heavy as she hands it over to me. Underneath the glass, embossed with my logo in gold leaf, there are two platinum-colored vinyls set against the backdrop of my artwork. The inscription on a small gold plate reads:
All of this is encased in a black frame.
“Thank you,” I say, forcing on my camera-ready smile as the photographer lines up in front of us.
Everyone from the UK label seems to tower above me as they position themselves to pose.
They all dress similarly, too, in black or white shirts and jackets, and jeans rolled up above their ankles as if they’re expecting a flood.
In contrast, Erica and Lucy stand out in their blue T-shirts and jean shorts.
“Someone’s twinning tonight,” I say, once the obligatory photo is out of the way.
Erica and Lucy place the plaque down on the bar beside me.
The UK label people disperse to the black couches, built into the alcoves of the backstage area.
They take a moment to glance at each other and smile before turning back to me.
“Did you hear about Rita?” Erica asks in a lowered voice, her brows furrowing.
“Rita?” My voice is a little too loud as I shake my head, causing a couple of people to stare.
Erica takes two steps forward, motioning Lucy to do the same.
“I overheard one of the label guys over there talking about her.” She tilts her head toward a mullet-haired mustached guy. “Apparently, she’s at the box office kicking up a fuss, claiming she’s on the list.” Erica spins her finger in a small circle by her head.
I take in a deep breath, fighting back the tension clawing at my shoulders.
It’s just one thing after another. Can I not catch a break for one day?
I scan the room for Rob, who’s nowhere to be seen. I automatically reach for my watch.
“Don’t worry,” Lucy says, placing her hand on top of mine and loosening my grip on the time piece. “Security is already on it to ensure she doesn’t get into the building or backstage.”
Lucy is somehow reading my mind.
I don’t need that woman near me again, causing yet another scandal.
“There you are!” The sound of my mom’s voice makes me jump out of my skin.
My face gets hotter with every tottering step she takes toward me.
It’s like she’s cleaned out the merchandise store.
She’s wearing a black hoodie with my logo emblazoned on it, and has tucked her brown hair under a baseball cap—also adorned with my logo.
She’s carrying so much merch in her hands that she’s barely able to wave hi to the various label people as she passes them.
I let out a deep sigh.
It’s like she goes from one extreme to the other.
She hides things at home from Harrison so as not to make him feel bad about my success, but then she overcompensates when she’s out on the road and he’s not around.
“You look exhausted.” My mom dumps the various bits in her arms down on the bar before pulling me in and squeezing the life out of me. Erica and Lucy take their cue to leave me, after saying a quick hi.
“Thanks Mom.” I shake myself free from her grip.
She hasn’t been here for five seconds and she’s already smothering me and criticizing me in the same breath. She’d be a perfect case study for helicopter parenting.
“Give him a break, Carla.” My dad shakes his head as he steps in and gives me a brief squeeze. I leave a slight makeup stain on the fabric of his blue shirt as I pull back.
“Bulking out, I see.” He reaches into the bowl of candy behind me.
I force a smile, not having the energy to push back on his criticism.
“What’s this?” My mom leans toward the bar, trying to pick the plaque up before she realizes its weight. She lifts herself up on her toes to see it instead.
“The label gave it to me for the album. You can have it for your house if you want?”
As great as plaques are, I’m running out of space on the walls of my office and bathrooms back home.
“Would it not be better at your place? We have to be mindful of your brother.” She lowers herself back down and rests her hand on my forearm.
Ugh.
They’re always protecting him. Wrapping him in cotton wool.
Even after he sold me out, they stuck up for him.
And now I have to play down my success so he doesn’t feel emasculated.
What about me? Can’t they be proud of my success in front of him?
Or does it always have to be done away from him?
“Right. Right.” I shake my head as I pick out some of the fizzy cola bottle candies and shove them into my mouth.
“Are you feeling better?” My mom puts the back of her hand to my forehead, feeling for heat.
“I’m getting there,” I manage to say between chews.
I still feel exhausted, but knowing that I only have the show today and nothing tomorrow is helping. Well, that plus three vitamin IV drips in three days.
“Maybe you and I can have a spa day at the hotel tomorrow? What do you say?” She drops her hand from my forehead and sets it on her hip.There’s an expectant look on her face.
“I thought we were going to check out the sites?” My dad scowls at her.
“That can wait,” she says, waving away his look.
Seeing my parents quarrel never gets any easier. And though I’m mostly shielded from it these days since I’m away so much, it still leaves me feeling unsettled.
Thankfully, my attention is diverted by the sight of Rob’s towering frame entering the room.
Everyone seems to naturally move out of his way, such is his command of any space he finds himself in.
The heavy feeling of my parents’ spat instantly lifts when Christopher steps out from behind Rob, along with a woman that I’m assuming is his sister.
“Hey,” I say.
“Hi,” he responds.
Fireworks go off in my chest.
Just hearing that one word leave his mouth makes me feel giddy like a teenager.
Katy Perry’s Teenage Dream plays out in my head.
It’s like his British accent flips a switch inside of me.
And ever since last night, it feels like something else has shifted within me too. He’s more than just a craving.
I take a moment to absorb how handsome he is. Tonight he’s got a prep look going on with a baby-blue button-down shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, khaki trousers, and brown boots.
“This is my sister, Kelly,” he says. His hand brushes her long wavy auburn hair as he reaches around behind her to rest his hand on the back of her green dress.
“Great to meet you. Christopher tells me you’re getting married this weekend. Congratulations!” I lean in for a hug.
He looks so much like her. She has the same hazel eyes, the same flick at the end of her nose. The freckles on her face are the only difference.
“Aren’t you going to introduce us?” My mom looks down her nose at me.
In the daze of seeing Christopher, I’d almost forgotten that she and my dad were there.
“Oh yeah,” I say, whacking my forehead to appease her. “This is Christopher and his sister, Kelly. Kelly, Christopher, this is my mom and dad, Carla and Bruce.” My hand waves between them.
“Nice to meet you,” Christopher says, holding out a hand for my parents to shake. My mom bats that away, pulling both of them in for a hug.
“What do you do round here, Christopher?” Her eyes are like a scanner, moving from head to toe.
In the midst of everything else, I haven’t had a chance to tell her about Christopher yet, about who he is. She wasn’t the most welcoming when it came to Samuel. It almost seemed like she was jealous that he was spending time with me and taking time away from her.
“I’m Alex’s dialect coach,” Christopher says. A look of confusion appears on his sister’s face.
“Oh my God. I’ve always wanted to speak like that old woman in Downton Abbey.
Can you teach me?” My mom’s giddy excitement almost knocks Christopher off his feet.
She grabs hold of him, and I can’t tell if the discomfort on his face is because of my mom’s grip or his inability to play along with the role.
His eyes dart toward me—Help me—etched in them.
“It’s okay,” I say, looking at Christopher and then my mom. “He’s like Samuel.”
I choose my words carefully. A couple of the people lingering in the background, helping themselves to another drink at the bar, seem to be hovering a bit longer than one would expect.
“But Lucy was just here? Is she leaving you?” My mom’s forehead wrinkles.
She’s never been one to pick up on a hint. Her naivety is both a blessing and a curse.
“No. Not like Samuel in that way.” I shake my head.
“Oh. Ohhhhhh.” The penny drops and she takes two steps back to take Christopher in fully.
“Well in that case, scrap the old woman from Downton Abbey. I need to know everything about you.” She interlinks her arm with his, attempting to pull him away.
His widening eyes scream Rescue me!
I do love my mom, but sometimes she gets too involved in my life. Almost as if she is living vicariously through me. Like she’s making up for a life she didn’t get to lead.
“Mom, can you give us a moment first, please?” I reach for her shoulder.
“Come on, Carla, let’s give the kid some space. And anyway, we need to go find Paul and sort out replacing our tickets.” My dad motions her away as she releases Christopher.
“Why do you need to replace your tickets?” I ask, letting out a sigh. I already know about my mom’s penchant for helping fans out. They beg and plead with her to help get tickets or pass on fan mail to me. She’s always been a sucker for a sob story.
“Your mom gave them away to some actress at the box office outside.” My dad shakes his head in disbelief.
“Yeah, poor woman, was meant to be on the guest list, but it seems Paul left her off.”
My heart leaps into my throat.
“Please tell me you only gave her your tickets and not your backstage passes too?” My gaze quickly darts to both my parents’ chests to ensure they have their triple-A passes on them. My ass cheeks clench together.