26. Chase
Their concert in Pittsburgh broke rock news the very next day. Chase found out not from the articles journalists had magically churned out between seven p.m. and five a.m., but from the call he received from Trevor one hour later. First to his cell—which he ignored—and then to the hotel phone, which he reluctantly answered.
“I can’t decide whether to kill you or kiss you.”
Chase cleared his throat, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the sunrise peeking through the window shades. “How about neither?”
“Everyone loved the show last night—”
Zak tossed beneath the sheets, her eyes still closed as she grumbled, “Who the fuck are you talking to?”
“—well, okay, big guy. I guess the ladies, in particular, loved the show last night.”
Trevor shared a snicker with him that Chase partook in, for once. Given that the real punchline was the other man’s cluelessness about which lady Chase had in his bed.
“I’ll make it quick. The only thing hotter than your album right now are the rumors about you and your little guitarist. I’ll let it slide as long as we’re making money, but between the two of us, it’s not making you look good.” It sounded like he was slurping on a hot coffee. Car horns blared in the background.
“Saint of Spades may be topping Abstraction in record sales, but Izzy’s public approval ratings are off the chart. She’s sexy as hell for the men, she’s an inspiration for the ladies, she’s a ray of fucking sunshine, and she’s pulling in demographics this genre has never seen before. Have you heard of sixteen-year-old girls listening to thrash metal? I never had. Not till Izzy Sartori. So long story short, you fuck her over, you’re only fucking yourself in the public eye. Or Zak, if that’s something you care about. The other woman always takes the heat for shit like this.”
The other woman who had her ear pressed up against the the handset to listen to his and Trevor’s conversation.
“What’s your point, Trevor?” Chase asked. “You wouldn’t call just to give me a heads up.”
“You’re right. Here’s the good news. Audio Insider wants to do an exclusive interview at five o’clock this evening. They want you and Zak to talk about the Pittsburgh show, and they want you and Izzy to talk about how you fell in love while filming Amped and all that shit. Congratulations, we’ve signed you all up.”
That didn’t sound like good news to Chase, but there was a silver lining. This was the most organic media attention he’d gotten since an ice-skating blade had shredded through his Achilles, and it was the most positive coverage the band had gotten surrounding their album release. Rumors of cheating aside. Though even those were weirdly validating.
Chemistry had always felt like an invisible entity between him and Zak, but then again, maybe that feeling had been born from years of her denying they had any. Yet, in the span of a few comments and conversations spread out between twenty songs, the nature of their relationship had become an object of speculation.
“And here’s the bad news,” Trevor went on. “Consider yourselves on probation. I don’t care how much people like your music. There are plenty of starving musicians out there looking to get signed. We’re under no obligation to keep one that’s constantly causing problems. Tell your guitarist he’d better learn to play high, and he’d better learn fast. Just like every other strung-out druggie selling tickets.
“Tell your bassist to adjust his medication or some shit. Or better yet, replace him, because anyone with seven fingers and two brain cells to rub together can play that instrument. And tell your little lady friend that refund announcements come from corporate and are processed through the venue. That wasn’t information for her to publicly announce until we decided next steps. This was cute for a one-time special edition, but nobody is paying for Coffeehouse Rock and the One-Legged Loverboy.”
How quickly Chase had turned into someone powerless again. However, this time, it had more to do with not knowing where to begin.
Did he start with the way the leaders of this industry took no accountability for the drug culture that ran rampant within it? Did he start with the fact that Trevor insinuated discriminating against someone with a disability tosomeone who also had a disability? Did he call Trevor out for being a dick, despite being one-hundred percent sure Trevor knew he was a dick and didn’t care?
Chase heaved a deep breath. “And why are you telling me all this? You can’t call a meeting and say it to their faces?”
“What do you want me to do?” Trevor laughed, the sound muffled by whatever he was eating for breakfast. “It’s all in that contract you fought so hard for. I’m talking to you because you are the talent, and you have the power to make better choices the next time around. It’s nice and wholesome that you think these people are your buddies. A real feel-good success story. ‘Star athlete befriends a bunch of degenerate losers to break into the rock scene during its dying years.’ But here’s a trick of the trade: you can always make new friends. You can’t always take out the trash to free up some royalty shares. Word to the wise, take care of yourself first. That’s what they would do if they were in your position.”
Trevor hung up, leaving Chase holding onto the phone trying to process the most insane wake-up call he’d ever received.
“I guess they’re not letting me anywhere near a microphone again,” Zak said, her voice hoarse.
“That’s alright. You can borrow mine.”
She propped herself up in bed, the comforter bunching beneath the weight of her breasts. He was so tossed around by that conversation, he latched onto the first pleasant distraction.
There was something wrong with him. They should be having a serious conversation right now about how they were in hot water with the people who managed their careers only two months into their first tour. But she was so fucking beautiful, it was hard to think about anything besides the joy of being up there with her last night.
It had been the first time they spoke those cryptic languages to one another with the cipher on hand to decode everything. He’d never felt more himself, more in love with her, or more passionate about what they were doing. Never more in touch with the fans who gave meaning to fame and fortune.
She smiled back at him, smoothing down her unruly hair. “That was a lot of information to take in without caffeine. Want some?”
“A double. And I want to make it very clear,” he said, though nothing was very clear to him as she crawled out of bed and padded to the coffee machine. Naked. Focus. “I don’t agree with a single word that man just said.”
“I kind of liked the name he picked out for our folk duet. A little long, but memorable as all hell.” She finished scooping grounds into the filter and hopped up on the desk. “I guess there are certain skill sets that come with his job. Band naming and negotiating and generally bullying your way to the top so you can trade artists’ livelihoods around like stock shares.”
“You’re unbelievable. In absolutely every way.”
She filled their cups and crawled back underneath the sheets. He took hers from her hand and laid it on the nightstand. Cupping her neck and kissing her like it was a regular person’s Saturday morning, and they had time to relax with one another. In reality, they had a bus to board in half an hour, a radio interview to give in Philly this evening, and another show the next day.
She sighed as his fingers drifted across her collarbones and down, to where the subtle fade of ivory to golden pink marked the center of her breasts. “If I would have known that flirting with you on stage was going to boost our album sales so much, I would have been doing it all along.”
He tasted the stain of fresh coffee on her bottom lip. “I knew I wasn’t the only one who enjoyed that mouth of yours.”
“Don’t think anyone enjoys it the same way you do.”
“Mmm. I hope not.”
He splayed his hand over her hip and pulled her in. “It was amazing watching you own the music like that. It’s always felt like yours. It is yours. When I sing it, I hear your voice, your stories. I see all the moments of your life that I missed, and I see your strength. I don’t think I would sound half as good if not for the fact that I’m determined to do your words justice.”
“That’s a lie.” The pads of her fingers pressed into his shoulder blades. Soft and demanding all at once. “You sound just as incredible when you’re singing other people’s words. And that’s the highest compliment a singer could get from me because I hate covers.”
“All covers?”
“They’re never as good as the originals.”
He played with the ends of her hair as he racked his brain. “‘Red Red Wine’?”
“Diamond’s is way superior. The cover strips away the sadness and hopelessness from the original. UB40 turned it into a vapid party song.”
Chase raised his eyebrows. “‘Man Who Sold The World’?”
“Rest in peace, Kurt, but no. Bowie’s has that odd, ethereal feeling to it that I don’t think anyone could match.”
“Looks like we’ll have to agree to disagree on that one because I think that song was meant for grunge and just didn’t know it yet.”
“You trying to start a fight?” she asked playfully. “This early in the morning?”
“I’ll fight if you want, but it wasn’t what I had in mind.” He leaned in closer, her automatic sigh kicking his pulse up a notch. Then it hit him: “‘Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door’? ‘All Along the Watchtower’?”
Zak cringed like she’d been caught in a terrible lie, and he knew he had her. There was no way she’d prefer a Bob Dylan original over Guns N’ Roses or Jimi Hendrix. “Surprised you know about the second one.”
“Thought we established I like music. Is that a concession?”
“I don’t think it has tobe a concession because Bob Dylan’s always been a better songwriter than a singer-performer. It’s hard to have the trifecta. He probably intendedfor his music to be covered all along.”
He chuckled. “Now you’re grasping, my angel.”
“Fine. Maybe I don’t hate all covers.” She fell back onto a stack of pillows and gazed up at the ceiling with the barest smile on her face. “Last night was… different. I’m not used to being the one doing the talking, but it came easy.”
“Course it did.” He held her hand up, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “This is you. If they appreciate the music, it’s because they appreciate you.”
The four of them—Chase, Zak, Izzy, and their host, Carrie Archer—crowded around a small, kidney-bean-shaped table in the windowless, wood-paneled recording room at the Audio Insider radio station. Waiting quietly for the On Air light to flash red over the glass viewing pane to the sound mixer’s room.
“Next up, to get you through rush hour, we’re getting an exclusive look backstage with the two up-and-coming bands that have divided the spotlight on their international tour,” Carrie Archer said enthusiastically into her microphone. “We’re here with Chase Payton and Zak Parker of Saint of Spades, and Izzy Sartori of Abstraction, to talk about that wild show last night in Pittsburgh… among all the other wild things happening behind the curtain.”
“Don’t know if ‘wild’ is the right word for an acoustic concert, Carrie.”
Zak sounded as confident as always, though she hated these things. She was probably waiting for the moment she would have to defend herself, or someone else, and wondering whether their fans would hate her for it when that time came. And for good reason. Trevor had primed them about the rumors and made it clear there would be consequences if the gossip didn’t go away.
Carrie offered up a serpentine smile. “Legendary, then. Everyone is talking about it. Can you tell our audience a little more about the moments leading up to the show? What happened, and what made you decide to continue with the performance?”
Chase considered that question a softball as far as these things went, but it still made Zak fidget in her seat.
“Nothing too serious,” he said with a practiced calm, remembering Scott’s words and recalling the tone he’d used to answer every sports reporter’s favorite post-loss question: “What happened out there tonight?” “Concerts always have cancellations on tours. It’s pretty difficult to make it through all those months without anyone getting sick or having personal matters come up. But on such short notice, people were already in the stadium when we found out we’d have to reschedule. We wanted to try to put on a show for them still, even if it wasn’t the same show they purchased tickets for.”
Carrie seemed satisfied with that response for now. “I would say it worked out. Fans are demanding a release of some of those acoustic covers. Are there any future plans to put out stripped-down versions of your songs—particularly the ballads, like ‘The River’?”
Zak happily took that one. “We’re more focused on releasing new songs than re-recording old ones right now, but we’re not opposed to the idea. It’s just that we happen to have a lot of homeless songs. We did our rounds in Southern California for years before getting to share our music with the world through Amped, and we were writing new material all the time.”
“I know fans are eagerly awaiting that new release after how well this one has been received,” Carrie said. The flattery, so impersonal and so early on, screamed red flag to Chase. Interviews were like fair rides. There had to be the perfect balance of soaring highs and abrupt drops to keep people interested. “What a dedication at the end, too. Amped viewers learned early on about the tragic loss of your founding singer, and to see that come full circle last night was touching. I’m sure that was an emotional moment for both of you.”
“Of course,” Zak said. Unemotionally.
“What would you say to the listeners who are wondering if last night’s concert may have come about as a response to darker influences? Members of your band appeared to be struggling with drug addiction during your time on the show, and there hasn’t been much talk of it since. Understandably, with everything you all have accomplished. It leaves us wondering, though, how are you all handling the drug scene while on the road?”
“Didn’t Chase already answer this question?” Zak shot back before he could salvage the situation. “Personal matters means exactly that. Personal. I thought we were here to talk about music? Unless they’re calling the station ‘93.4 Snorts’ now instead of ‘93.4 Rocks’.”
“We’re here to talk about everything related to your band.”
“Could’ve fooled me.” Zak laid her palms flat on the table. “It sounds like you’re looking for a recommendation for a heroin dealer.”
“While we’re talking, Zak,” Carrie transitioned, unphased by the daggers Zak glared at her. “I might as well bring up the hottest question on viewers’ minds: the heat between you and Chase on stage.”
There it was. The drop.
Chase laughed passively, hoping listeners would think his next comment was a joke even if their interviewer could sense the hostility polluting their small recording room. “Is there a question somewhere in there?”
“There were a lot of smiles and jokes going on last night, and many fans aren’t just wondering, but claiming that there’s more to your relationship than professional. Speculation that stands to reason when, during your pre-tour interviews, you credit a longer-standing history between you and Zak for your joining the band.”
“A longer-standing history of acquaintanceship, yes. We went to high school together. How close are you with your old classmates from high school?” he deflected.
“It’s been a long time,” Carrie said jokingly. The set of her sharp jaw hardened. “But people are less interested in how you met than they are about what your relationship looks like today.”
“This isn’t like other jobs. We all spend a lot of time together, especially now that we’re on tour,” Chase said. “It’s not nine-to-five, it’s all the time. You get to know everyone in the band well, and thankfully, we all have a good time together. I have inside jokes with all the guys, too. I’m sure we would have messed around up there if it had been any two of us, not just Zak and I.”
“And they’re not my only friends. Izzy and I have gotten super close since the show,” Zak added. “There are very few women in this scene, and I’m glad to be able to work so closely with one who’s not only someone I respect as an artist, but someone who is a genuinely good person. I would never do anything to hurt her or our friendship.”
Carrie sucked her tongue against her teeth. “Izzy, do you have any comment on the matter?”
Izzy smiled passively. “If I’m not concerned about my relationship, then no one else needs to be either. Zak is amazing, and Chase is one of the kindest people I’ve ever known. And I’m not just saying that because we’re dating or whatever. I don’t know if I’d make it through all the stress of touring without either one of them. We’re lucky to have been able to reach this level of success together.”
Behind her reading glasses, Carrie’s eyes bounced, unconvinced, between the three of them. But random lapses in conversation were like bullet wounds to a radio show. So, she moved on to the next topic. “It’s nice that you three have built that level of trust. It can’t be easy, in a job known for its scandals. Chase, despite your pre-existing celebrity status, this is your longest-lasting, most public romantic relationship yet. Things must be getting serious between the two of you.”
“Izzy’s an incredible woman. An incredible musician, too,” he answered.
“That seems like a pretty generic way to describe your girlfriend of six months.”
Chase had to say something to end Carrie’s line of questioning. Something people could latch onto, otherwise this would go in circles until one of them slipped up under pressure. He shrugged and grinned, hopefully convincingly.“I save the more detailed descriptions for her ears only.”
That one got a brow raise and a small chuckle out of Carrie. “Fair enough. Izzy, will you tell us a little more about what it’s been like on the road?”
Izzy rubbed her arms. “Better than I ever imagined. It’s great getting to see new places and share our music with the world.”
The awkward pause afterward made it obvious that everyone in the room had expected her to say more, but Izzy didn’t fill the silence.
Carrie cleared her throat. “Is it difficult sharing the spotlight with Saint of Spades, knowing they were the fan favorite throughout the competition? Even now, early numbers suggest Missing Link is topping Lovers in album sales by quite a wide margin. Despite initial reviews from critics painting Lovers as a nu metal masterpiece and predicting the failure of Missing Link.”
“Not at all. People can have an infinite number of favorite bands,” Izzy said. “Enjoying one album doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy the other, and Lovers has still seen an amazing reception. There’s plenty of room for both our bands at the top. I’m just happy we were able to come together and give people an unforgettable experience on tour.”
“You’re definitely succeeding at that. On the flip side, Zak and Chase, were you two surprised to see how well Saint of Spades’ first album has done so far? There were some seething comments early on, tossing around every critic’s favorite words: derivative, directionless, uninspired.”
Zak snorted. “We get called derivative, and then we get criticized for doing things differently than other bands. Our album gets called directionless, and then they complain about the theme it does have. They say it’s uninspired, and then ask me why I’ve taken inspiration from Latin, metal, grunge, and blues music. You’re a journalist, Carrie. Tell me, what sort of qualifications do these critics have? Because I don’t need a fancy degree to know none of that makes any sense. It sounds to me like that whole field is about writing whatever’s going to get the most eyeballs on your derivative, directionless, and uninspired opinions.”
On one hand, this was a catastrophe. On the other hand, Chase had no desire to intervene because watching Zak tell people off was refreshing, entertaining, and sexy in a way he didn’t fully understand. So he waited for her to finish spouting off, gave another rehearsed laugh to cut the tension for their listeners, and followed up.
“To answer your question, Carrie, we worked hard to create an album we’re all proud of. And for it to become as popular and well-loved as it is? That’s been an amazing surprise, but not because of what critics might have predicted. It’s tough to make it in music, even on a local scale. It’s tougher, still, to achieve what Saint of Spades and Abstraction both have, and we feel very grateful to our fans for that.”
“And what an album it is.” Carrie nodded to her sound team. “Anyway, we’ll take a short break to hear a word from our sponsors. Stay tuned to find out more about the music from the artists themselves, discover what’s coming next, and call in with questions of your own.”