41. The Podcast
41
THE PODCAST
O’CONNOR
My publicity manager, Paolo, was supposed to be in the VIP suite with me, but he’d taken one look at the surging crowd and had disappeared into it, swept up in the undeniable Aftermath magnetism.
So, I watched their entire show in silence.
Alone.
My cameras recorded every minute, and I could see by the numbers that even people around the world were watching. They’d come for my big announcement and stayed for the free concert they never thought they’d get to see.
And Aftermath did not disappoint.
Ian was a silent wizard in black, his fingers moving so fast on his guitar that at times they were just a blur. Mal worked his drums until he was drenched in sweat, and yet he never became machinelike. His personality was always present. I could hear those drums blindfolded and know it was Mal.
Charlotte posed like a statue. She watched the audience, ears forward, until she sat at Archer’s command. She was regal and charismatic and funny and stunning.
And Archer.
He was radiant. No duster for this show, and I supposed I knew why he’d left it off. He didn’t need it anyway. His white T-shirt was tight and showed off his beautiful body. His faded denims hugged his ass, his thighs. And the lights held him like a lover, knowing he was even more brilliant than the spots.
Thank god I’d spoken to Bella, because if I’d been in the dark when he told the crowd he was in love with her, it would have crushed me.
As it was, I just smiled. What else was he supposed to do? He didn’t know what I knew.
They played on and I danced alone, watching and waiting.
When they were done, I turned the primary camera to face me, took a deep breath, and began.
“Hi,” I said. I hadn’t come up with a better opening, so I just went with simple. “I’m Opinionated O’Connor, and I wanted to make an announcement.”
Beyond the camera, I could see the audience hadn’t moved to the exits. Most were facing me, watching me through the glass. They were easy to see; most of their faces were lit by the phones they had in their hands.
They were watching the podcast. Well, okay.
“You may know my publisher has announced the must-have Christmas gift this year will be my copy of the tell-all I wrote about Archer Armstrong, the lead singer you just saw from the band Aftermath. They were amazing, weren’t they?”
I’d thought the question would be rhetorical, but the live audience in front of me apparently still had some excitement in them, for they broke into spontaneous applause.
I laughed and turned the camera around to show them. That brought on a wave of even greater excitement as they saw themselves on their screens. The people pressed closest to the glass danced and waved in delight.
“That’s the audience at the Bellwether in Los Angeles, where tonight’s concert was held.” I turned the camera back to me. “As you can see, they’re very enthusiastic. Which you might expect, after such a great performance.” I checked the counter and reported what I found. “I see that there are some eleven million people watching right now, which is the biggest live audience I’ve ever had, not counting the guys in front of me at the Bellwether. So, thank you all for tuning in. Let me get to what I wanted to tell you.”
Through the glass, I could hear shouts of encouragement, including one high voice that shrieked out, “Tell it, sister!” That made me grin.
“The value of a tell-all is that you get the full facts all laid out for you, neat and tidy. It’s a page-turner. And my book also includes my personal photos of Archer Armstrong, so you know it’s going to be worth your precious dollars. But I’ve been thinking about the entire genre of books. The tell-all, I mean.”
I hung my head, gathering my thoughts and my courage. Fists banged lightly on the glass. “Keep going!” someone shouted, the sound muffled but still clear.
“The problem with a tell-all is that they succeed or fail on the scandals they hold. And what do you do if you don’t really have any scandals?”
The noise from the audience died away. Things got quiet enough for me to hear my own heart beating.
“What I found when I looked into Archer Armstrong’s life was a young man who was astonishingly vain.”
The crowd laughed and cheered. This was old news to my followers and, apparently, the audience as well.
“But Archer is only vain. He doesn’t seem to think his vanity entitles him to preferential treatment. He’s kind to others, a loyal friend, god knows he loves his dog.” That comment was a big hit in the club. We all loved his dog. “Oh, I uncovered some adolescent indiscretions that I think he’s now very ashamed of, but the only way I could make you think they were scandalous enough to buy a book would be to stretch the truth mercilessly.”
“Stretch it!” the voice cried, but she was immediately shushed.
“Haven’t we had enough of fabricated scandals? I think we have. The real ones are bad enough without making something up. Now, you might know that Archer is famous for taking a groupie into the locker room of the stadiums where he’s played—or the bathroom at these clubs—and showing her a good time.”
Wolf whistles. “He can take me!” the voice called.
“But guess what I found out when I looked into it?” I didn’t wait for the woman in the crowd to answer. “He doesn’t seem to have been with any groupie in months. If anyone wants to prove me wrong, you’ve got my contact information. I’d like to hear from you. But I’m pretty sure no one will speak up because Archer Armstrong seems to have reformed himself. No sex with groupies. I can’t find a single one since the day he and I went on the date I won in a charity auction. Not one.”
As if I’d given her cue cards, the unseen woman in the audience screamed through my window, “He’s in love with Bella! He said so tonight!”
I repeated the comment for viewers who couldn’t hear her. “Someone in the audience has just pointed out that we all saw Archer tell us that he was in love with Bella Southdown, my fellow influencer. You’ll find her feed at Southdown’s Variety , and I encourage you to check her out. She’s a really good person.
“But she’s not dating Archer Armstrong. She told me so herself. So, I know Archer was fibbing tonight.
“Scandalous enough to publish a book? I don’t think so. That’s why I told my publisher yesterday. I’m sorry, and it will probably tank my publishing career for the rest of my life, but I’m not publishing my tell-all. You’ll have to find another batch of lies for your must-have Christmas gift this year.”
The hubbub in the crowd was the energy every online personality hopes to generate, and I let it flood the club—and the internet—before I offered my last thought.
“One more thing, if you don’t mind. A few months ago, I told you that Archer kissed with his teeth. That was not a lie—but I can also tell you that it is no longer true. Archer is by far the best lover I’ve ever had. I fell hopelessly in love with him. And whether or not he ever forgives me, I will always love him. And that’s what I want you to know.”
The door to the VIP suite slammed open with a crash.
Archer stood in the door.