Chapter 42
November - Thursday. The day of the concert
This was GVibes’ first overseas performance since before their military enlistment, and it was being touted as a celebration – whether they won anything at the MCAs or not.
A lot of the tickets had gone on pre-sale for members of their fan club, and resale for above face value had been strictly policed to prevent scalpers ripping off fans.
I was impressed. There weren’t too many performers with the clout to enforce something like that, and it went a long way to reinforcing the idea that GVibes didn’t just appreciate Vibers, they respected them.
It was little bits of information like that that which had allowed me to keep my mind busy, and working in a strictly professional frame of mind as I stepped out into the chilly November morning at LAX.
Becka had offered to come in a taxi to get me, but I’d firmly said I was there to work, and wouldn’t be staying with her.
The press conference was being held at the same hotel I was booked into. The whole hotel had been booked out, apparently. A mix of journalists, like me, and some of the artists who’d be in town for the awards show.
It was one of the big, chain hotels close to the Mayan Theatre, so it made sense to put us all in the same place.
I tried very hard to push down the idea that it might also be the hotel that GVibes were staying in.
The concert was this evening, and jet lag was looming on the horizon.
I felt it dragging my body the same way I dragged my suitcase behind me.
I hadn’t been able to convince the travel coordinator to fly me over a day earlier.
Something about budgets. They may have saved money on the flights, but I was going to pay the price for it.
But there was some comfort in being back in LA. It was like finding an old t-shirt you used to wear all the time. Comfortable, even if it didn’t fit aswell as it used to.
LA had always managed to surprise me, one way or another.
Today, it was that it took less than an hour to make the journey from LAX to downtown. I texted this to Becka, by way of letting her know that I had gotten to my hotel safely.
Becka
Miracles do happen!
[Sent 09:43]
I smirked, replied with a thumbs up and headed into the hotel.
It wasn’t swarmed yet. The Music Choice Awards weren’t for a couple days, so all the press, management and talent hadn’t arrived yet.
I made my way up to my room on leaden legs, though that could just have easily been from sitting in economy for the eleven-hour flight from Heathrow.
One thing I had learned from my relatively numerous long-haul flights was that despite the common advice to sleep early to avoid jet lag, the best thing was to stay up for as long as you could, and only sleep when it was nighttime in the country you’d arrived in.
That advice sucked when you were super tired after a long flight.
Trying my best not to look longingly at the plush, super king bed in the middle of my room, I unpacked. It didn’t take long, I was only going to be in the city a few days.
While I wasn’t staying with Becka, that didn’t mean I was going to be here and not see my best friend, so after I finished unpacking, I changed out of my rumpled clothes and went out to meet her for brunch.
It had been nearly a year since I’d seen her, despite the good intentions we’d made on New Years to see each other more. The simple fact was that she lived in LA, and I lived in London, and we both had busy lives. Good intentions didn’t always match up with the real world.
She looked as she always did – perfect, to me – and I gripped her tightly as we collided in the middle of the street outside a little bistro that smelled like coffee.
“Babes,” she sighed into my hair as she held me tight.
“I’ve missed you, too,” I grinned.
Once we had separated, we made our way into the warm, little cafe and ordered hot drinks and pastries.
“So, talk me through the state of play,” Becka said, neatly crossing her legs under the table, and leaning forward as she took a bite out of her flakey pastry.
I chewed thoughtfully, running over the itinerary in my mind before answering.
“The concert is tonight, then tomorrow is free, so I’ll probably use it to write about the concert, then the next day is the awards show.”
“And when’s the junket?”
“The morning of the awards show. I’m surprised they’re shoehorning it in, actually,” I said, picking at my cherry danish.
Becka frowned. “Why?”
I gave up on the danish, putting it down in favour of picking up my chai latte, wrapping my hands around the ceramic to warm my chilled fingers.
“It’s usually a long process. The invited press and publications – like Frequency – will be doing a round-robin of separate interviews. We’ll each get a few minutes in a room with the group, before the photo call at the end. But because there will be a lot of press, it’ll take hours.”
I’d done a couple of these. It was not a quick thing. Each publication, or outlet, usually got somewhere between five to ten minutes with the artist, and for GVibes, there would be dozens of journalists.
I’d only found out yesterday that the interviews would be conducted in this manner. I’d been under the impression it would be a room full of journalists, but no.
There would be no hiding in the back of a packed room. I’d considered faking an illness, and I had needed Becka to remind me that I was a strong, independent woman just to get on the plane.
Becka nodded thoughtfully, nibbling her almond croissant.
“And they’re performing at the awards show, as well?”
“Yeah. They’ll probably have to go straight from the hotel to the Theatre to do sound checks and rehearsals.”
“All that on top of their concert tonight,” she whistled softly. “Busy boys.”
I nodded in silent agreement. They were probably at the stadium, right now. I knew from the ticket information that there was a sound check for fans who’d bought VIP tickets. It was essentially a bonus performance disguised as a technical process.
I wondered if they were nervous. I shook my head to clear the thought away.
“How long are you staying in LA for?” Becka interrupted the errant thoughts drifting through my treacherous mind, and I was grateful for it.
“Not long. My flight back to London is the morning after the awards.”
“Fuck,” Becka exclaimed, “they could have given you a bit of breathing room.”
I huffed a laugh. “I’ll sleep on the plane.
We fell silent for a time as we ate, and honestly, I was impressed Becka managed to restrain herself from asking the question I knew she must be thinking. She had the courtesy to wait until the second I wiped my hands off on a napkin.
“So,” she started innocently, “how are you feeling?”
“There it is,” I chuckled.
“What?” She asked, defensively. “I’m just asking.”
“Yeah, sure.” I sighed. “I’m – well, ‘fine’ might be a stretch.” I paused, considering. With Becka, I didn’t need to pretend. Couldn’t, really. My emotions were written all over my face, and she had become incredibly astute at reading them.
“I’m… a professional,” I said eventually. “I’ll be okay, because this is my job.”
Becka’s face contracted – just for a second.
“You don’t need to be okay,” she said, reaching across the table to grasp my hand. I squeezed her fingers briefly.
“I know, but I want to be,” I admitted. “Mostly, I am. It’s been so long. I don’t know if I’ll ever fully be at peace with it, but I figure I don’t need to be.”
I blew out a breath. I’d spent months really trying to figure out how I felt, because I couldn’t keep on living my life in the shadows of my past.
Ever since I’d broken up with Patrick, I’d had to face the reality that I couldn’t keep dragging Jihoon’s ghost around with me, using it as a buffer to keep people at a distance.
I knew I would always feel a type of loss over the life I’d envisioned, but I had done a lot of work to put him behind me.
I’d had to come to terms with myself that I may always feel love for him, but I had to love myself more.
“I’ve moved on. I have,” I said with more force, seeing the sceptical look on her face.
“Contrary to what every TV sitcom would have you believe, I don’t think you always need closure to move on.
” I nodded, more to myself than for Becka’s sake.
“I think sometimes it’s okay just to accept you’ll never get closure. Chose peace and move on.”
Becka shook her head slowly. “You’re a better woman than me,” she muttered.
“I know.”
Becka’s head snapped up.
“You weren’t supposed to agree.”
“I know.”
I didn’t have a press pass to the concert, just a seated ticket, so I filed in along with everyone else.
The stadium capacity was massive, tens of thousands of seats and standing tickets had been sold, making this officially the largest GVibes concert I had ever attended.
It had the unintended effect of making me feel comfortable in my anonymity.
Here, I was just another face in a sea of people, and I felt the tension in my shoulders melt away with the realisation.
The atmosphere in the stadium was jubilant.
It seemed that everyone was well aware of the gravity of this being their first overseas performance.
So many fans had dressed up to match the various themes of GVibes’ past concepts, from their more recent edgy era to their initial preppy look from their debut album.
I even saw a few people dressed up as the group’s Viblets – their plushies – which had made me laugh.
Fans were clustered in groups, and as I moved around them, I saw they were handing out and swapping freebie packs.
I was offered several little gift bags, full of things like stickers, phone accessories, photo cards, sweets, beaded bracelets…
the variety was astounding, to say nothing of the time and money spent on these little gifts freely handed out to fellow Vibers.