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“I sing. That’s what I do, Violet. This talk-show stuff isn’t really my thing,” Zack responded.
“Fuckin’ don’t get yourself worked up,” Dylan jumped in. “We play our asses off and then answer some questions. Easy enough.”
I looked at the other three band members and they all seemed to be amped up to get on stage. Their opinions on doing an interview were varied. Their previous managers should have set up more interviews, but then again, they went through managers so quickly, I was going to give the previous managers the benefit of the doubt and say they just didn’t have the time to organize something properly aside from tour dates.
“We’ll get this over and then go out and party,” Ethan added.
“The stage is set up. He’s about to announce you guys, follow me,” one of the stage hands said, waving at the group and motioning for them to follow behind her.
I watched them leave with just a slight amount of concern. They’d rock that stage. They were amazing performers, but Zack’s hesitation to deal with an interview had me worried. Though when it came right down to it, there were five of them so Zack could just sit there and let the others take control. And ultimately, there wasn’t much that could be said that could damage the popularity of the group. If their reputation for partying and womanizing hadn’t hurt them, not much could.
Looking out onto the pop-up stage, I watched the guys as they began to play their current hit song. The audience went wild when they hit the first note and their excitement only increased as the song played on, until the noise from the crowd rivalled the volume of the music.
They did good. And as the song wound down, I could see all the guys had loosened up. They’d do fine. All the nervousness was for nothing. I laughed at myself; Zack had been so paranoid that he actually had me a little nervous.
The song ended to a roar from the audience and the host walking over to the guys giving them praise and asking them to take a seat to start to the interview portion of their segment. The host began asking the guys questions about their upcoming tour and new album. After watching for roughly five minutes, all my stress about this interview had dissipated and a wide smile was on my face. Hopefully after this experience the band, Zack especially, would be able to loosen up and maybe even enjoy interviews. They all seemed to be having a pretty good time chatting away with the host.
“I have a question for front man Zack,” the host said, making me freeze and listen intently as I eyed Zack and his reaction at being pinpointed for the first time in the interview.
“Sure.” He smiled a lazy smile and seemed unperturbed to be singled out. Good, this was very good.
“Social media has been blowing up this morning with pictures of you and a sexy young woman in your hotel hot tub last night.” As he mentioned the hot tub, a picture appeared on the monitor behind the group. Everyone turned to look at the screen as the audience began to go wild.
I knew that redhead. It was me! I could feel the blood draining from my face. The picture was of me and Zack, the only saving grace was that my face was away from the camera. But my hair color was somewhat distinct, and I was curvier than most actresses, models, and singers.
As I stared at Zack, his face also went blank. He didn’t have a damned clue what to say, as the host looked at him expectedly.
When Zack didn’t respond, the host continued, “So who is this sexy young woman? A fan getting an experience of a lifetime or do we have a new musical power couple in the works?”
I wanted to run out on stage and stop the madness, but couldn’t. The last thing I needed was for the world to see was that their manager had bright red hair as well.
Zack had no response. He simply sat staring at the photo behind them. It was Dylan that stepped in and offered up an explanation. “Ah, fuck, picking up groupies again were we Zack?” Dylan began laughing and gave Zack a slap on the back, jerking Zack out of his trance.
Zack looked at the host and gave him a lopsided grin. “It happens. What can I say? How many red-blooded, single men would pass up a beauty like that?”
“True enough,” the host said. “But, we heard that it may not be a fan. It just so happens that you have a beautiful new manager. Violet Hudson. Daughter of the legendary Edward Hudson. A picture of me blinked onto the screen, it was from the waist up. My hair was up in a ponytail in the picture, but the color was a perfect match.
Oh fuck me.
My stomach began to churn. I thought I was going to throw up. I might as well just start putting out résumés at McDonalds, because I was done in the business after this. “Is Violet backstage?” the host asked, knowing damned well I was standing there.
“Can you follow me?” The stage hand that had led the guys out said, placing a hand on my lower back and urging me forward.
“I don’t want to go out there,” I said in a low voice.
“You need to. You’re better off going out there then hiding in the back.”
“That’s not me,” I hissed at the woman.
She smiled. “Then you have nothing to worry about.” She didn’t believe me for a second. I doubted the host would either. She clipped a mic onto my shirt and urged me forward.
“Fine,” I growled, forcing a smile onto my lips as I walked out onto the stage with as much dignity as I could muster and sat down at the end of the sofa next to Salvatore.
“Welcome, Violet.” The host pinned me with a stare.
I nodded. “Glad to be here. Though I think the fans are wasting their time with me.” I motioned to the band. “It’s these talented five guys that everyone is here to see.” I looked out into the crowd and began clapping. “Right ladies and gentlemen?”
“Yes, but Zack’s personal life has always been of interest,” the host challenged. “Right everyone?” The crowd went wild, causing the host to begin laughing. “So come on. If that’s the case, let the news be heard here first.”
