Travis Starnes
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Center Stage - Chapter 14
🕑 Added 2024-06-09 15:00:04 +0000 UTCMonday, I was back in New York, this time for the live taping of The World According To Harlan Nash. Considering it was almost as big as Late Night, the studio was much smaller. I’d always pictured a few hundred people in the audience, hearing the response when they laughed or clapped on TV. Instead, the place held maybe three dozen people tops, which was probably why the cameras never pointed to the audience directly.
I’d taken a late afternoon flight, which got me into the city just in time for the show. I hadn’t even had time to go by the hotel yet and found my way into the studio carrying my backpack and clothes back. I was rumpled and wrinkled from being on the flight, and the wardrobe people looked like they were going to have a conniption fit until they realized I’d brought real clothes for my TV appearance, which I quickly changed into.
Warren and I had spent some time going over what my “persona” would be, as far as clothing went. I’d fought hard against any kind of suit since I had a rock and roll image to maintain. We’d settled on nice jeans, a pair of work boots, and a light brown leather jacket, along with a few accessories that said ‘casual young rocker’ without being too punk. I felt I looked a little too much like half the popular country singers out there, but everyone else thought the look was okay, so we went for it.
I found a place to stash my stuff and they directed me to an area just off stage. The show was already going, and I could hear some piece they were doing about the economy with one of their ‘reporters,’ where the comedian who was acting as the reporter kept saying more and more insane stuff. Normally, I found this part funny, but I was in my own head again, like I was before everything like this, and wasn’t really paying attention.
Suddenly, a person stepped up next to me, also watching the show. I turned to find Alina, who looked like a whole different person than she did that night.
“Hey,” I said. “How are you doing?”
She gave me a sad little smile and said, “Fine, I suppose. As well as can be expected.”
“Yeah. This whole thing sucks,” I agreed and went back to watching the show from the sidelines.
“Aren’t you nervous?” she asked, still looking at me. “I’m always nervous, thinking about how many people will be watching, yet you seem so calm.”
“Sure, I’m nervous, but you just go into show mode when you step out there, and everything’ll be fine. It’s not that much different than being on stage in front of thousands of people. Just gotta stay focused on what you’re doing and plow through, you know.”
“Huh,” she said, still looking at me, nodding slowly.
Before she could say anything else, these two people I didn’t know came up to us.
“We have a list of approved topics we would like for you to stick to,” the taller of the two women said. “There will be no discussion of Alina’s past indiscretions, and you are to avoid conjecture of her being under the influence of any substances while at the party. You are allowed to discuss her state only as she was having difficulty and move on other than that.”
So these were the handlers I’d heard about. Alina looked at me almost apologetically as they handed me a bullet-pointed list.
“No problem,” I said, trying to sound as non-confrontational as possible.
While this was weird, especially considering there was video and pictures of Alina bombed out of her mind, and our entire story hinged on the fact that Alina was incapable of standing on her own, let alone fighting off the two guys, it seemed impossible drug use wouldn’t come up. Us dodging or refusing to answer questions Harlan or anyone else asked about them would be the same as all but confirming what they were trying to bury. It seemed counterproductive.
But it wasn’t like I could offend them. This was my best shot at shutting down GLR’s play, which I wouldn’t be able to do if they pulled her out at the last moment.
The woman seemed to accept it and just gave me a nod, and then a hard look to Alina, before walking away.
“Sorry about that,” Alina said, half embarrassed.
“It’s okay. They’re just trying to protect you.”
“Yeah,” she said, looking away from me back to the stage, a strange expression on her face.
It wasn’t hard to see that this girl had some real problems, and they weren’t all related to drugs. Before we talk about anything else though, Harlan was introducing us, and it was time to go out on stage.
“You’ve probably all seen the headlines by now of the story that broke on Spilled Tea but has started making the rounds through larger publications about supermodel Alina Petrova and her harrowing experience at a party during New York’s Music Week last weekend. Well, we have Alina and the other person in that story, Charlie Nelson, last season’s winner of The Stage, here with us tonight to explain how what you’ve read in the papers isn’t exactly true. So, please welcome Alina Petrova and Charlie Nelson,” he said, standing slightly and clapping along with the rest of the audience as we came out.
As with Late Night, most of this had been pre-arranged and choreographed with the producers, who’d sent a long email the day before with details, including who was to sit where. We walked out on stage, both waving a little to the applauding studio audience, and Alina took the seat closest to Harlan, while I sat in the chair further away.
“Thank you both for coming. I know you’ve been dealing with a lot since the article came out, and I appreciate you making time to talk with me. Why don’t you tell me what happened from your point of view.”
“Well, Harlan,” Alina said, much more confident than she had been off stage. “I will be honest, a lot of that night is a blur to me. I can tell you this, the allegations that Charlie assaulted me that night are completely false. He was, in fact, never alone with me, and his management was in touch with mine, who asked him to help me get back to my hotel. He was either at the party, in the cab with the cab driver, or with the doorman from the hotel and one of my representatives the entire time. One of the main reasons I wanted to come here was to publicly thank Charlie for helping me out of a bad situation. I will say, it is very sad that a good samaritan is slandered in the name of selling clicks or papers, instead of being praised for his actions. People wonder why society feels worse these days, and I would say this is one of those reasons.”
“But you were drunk too, right, Charlie?”
“I wasn’t,” I said. “I actually don’t drink. Ever. My father ... he had his issues with alcohol, and it tore my family apart. I’ve seen firsthand what that lifestyle can do to people, and I steer clear of it.”
“Several sources said you smelled strongly of alcohol though.”
“Earlier in the night, I had a run-in with a somewhat aggressive person who was pretty heavily under the influence. I won’t name names, but she didn’t take kindly to me turning down her offer to go somewhere ‘more fun.’ She threw her drink on me and stormed off. That was why I was coming out of the bathroom when I saw Alina and the guys with her. I’d been trying to clean the drink off me.”
“See, you tell us the gossip isn’t real, and then hint at gossip that is, and won’t tell us who it is. Can you give us a little hint?”
“I didn’t mean to tease you or your viewers, but I really can’t. There were plenty of witnesses, but I’m not here to point fingers.”
“I guess we can let you off the hook, but if anyone knows who that is and wants to drop us a line, I think myself and everyone in the audience would be very happy to hear about it,” he said directly into the camera before turning to Alina again. “So those were the men who actually assaulted you.”
“From what I’m told, although I don’t remember them clearly,” Alina said.
“I do, and they absolutely had their hands in places they shouldn’t, holding Alina up against the wall, pinning her there.”
“Do you think the authorities should press charges against these men?”
Alina opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She was clearly struggling, so I jumped in.
“We don’t know who these guys are, Harlan. But if they did come forward, I think some kind of legal response would be necessary. What they did was not okay, regardless of the circumstances.”
“I know this is going to be a hard question, but you’ve had a history of drug use, Alina. We all thought you were clean after your last rehab, but clearly, you were under the influence of something here. What happened?”
Again, Alina didn’t seem sure what to say. She had this deer-in-the-headlights look. It wasn’t hard to see why her people would have wanted to keep her out of interviews.
“Harlan, can I just say something?” I interjected. “At parties like this, there’s an ongoing problem. My female friends have to be incredibly vigilant, always keeping their drinks covered, even when they’re just sitting there. The fear of someone slipping something into their drink is very real.”
“Are you accusing these men of drugging Alina?”
“No, I’m not making any accusations. But I know it’s a problem, and these guys seemed to have no issue putting their hands all over a girl who could barely stand on her own. They’re welcome to come forward and clear their names, but they should be prepared to answer some tough questions about why they thought that behavior was acceptable.”
“I, for one, have learned my lesson. I’m incredibly grateful to Charlie for helping me out of that situation. It’s a scary reality, going to these events,” She glanced at me, offering a small smile. “Next time, I think I’ll stick to bottled water. Keep a lid on my drink, you know?”
“Probably a good call,” Harlan said. “Charlie, you’ve had quite a run of controversy lately, haven’t you? First the blackout at your show, then the Dakota Rayne incident, and now this. That’s a lot of drama for one man.”
“I’m not trying for it, I swear. The blackout had nothing to do with me. I just happened to be on stage when it occurred. As for at the party, I was just in the wrong place or right place at the right time.”
“Or maybe the right place at the right time for Alina. After years in the business, I can tell you finding someone at one of these parties who will make sure you get home safe, it’s pretty rare. You’re a lucky woman.”
“I absolutely know it, which is why I wanted to come out here tonight. Charlie very much saved me that night, and it isn’t right he’s caught up in the tabloids, who are looking to make up whatever scandal they can to sell papers, regardless of who it hurts.”
“And there you have it, folks. The bad guy’s really a good guy and the tabloids suck. What else is new. Stay tuned for the nightly rundown, after this,” he said.
The lit sign above the audience that said “live” went out, I guess meaning we were off the air and to a commercial.
“Alina, thanks for coming in,” he said, shaking her hand before reaching over to shake mine. “Charlie, you did a good thing. You should be proud of yourself.”
“I am,” I said, shaking his hand.
“Good. Confidence. I like that.”
He gave us one last smile before leaning away to talk to a producer while a PA came to gather us up and lead us off stage. A much friendlier exit than on Late Night.
As we got to the wings, Alina put a hand on my arm, stopping me.
“Thank you, Charlie. For covering for me out there. I know my ... issues aren’t exactly a secret, but I appreciate you not harping on them.”
I shrugged. “It’s not my place to judge. We’ve all got our demons.”
When she started to walk away, I repeated her gesture, reaching out to touch her arm to stop her.
“Listen, Alina ... what I said out there, about my parents, my past ... that was all true. I do understand how difficult substance abuse can be, the hold it can have on your life. If you ever need someone to talk to, someone who isn’t paid to keep you working ... I’d be happy to listen.”
Alina stared at me for a long moment, her blue eyes searching mine. Finally, she nodded, giving a cautious smile.
“Thanks, Charlie. I’ll keep that in mind.”
With that, she turned and walked back to her handlers, who had just made an appearance from who knows where. Hopefully this put the rumors to rest and would be enough to stop anymore talk of replacing me on the tour.
***
Tuesday night, after band practice ended and the guys went home, I was at the kitchen table doing homework. It was wild that one night I could be on one of the biggest TV shows in the country, and the next, I was just a high school student struggling to do homework.
The juxtaposition was always a little brain-scrambling.
Struggling was also the right word for what I was doing. We still hadn’t found a tutor that would be able to work with my schedule that Mrs. Phillips thought would be a good fit for me. Which was a problem since the longer we went, the more I really needed one. Actually, it had gotten worse as the drama around my life ramped up, making less and less time to watch the lesson videos, let alone understand anything in them.
Not that I’d given up. It just meant that on the days in between touring, I wasn’t getting much sleep, trying to cram in as much study time as possible, and work in some time with teachers after school.
And the drama only seemed to be getting worse. The Harlan interview did squash the assault rumors, and SpilledTea had to pull their article down after a flood of negative comments on it directed at them, but it had started new rumors that Alina and I were secretly dating and that’s why I was at her hotel. Alina had been off-kilter the whole interview, so I couldn’t even imagine where anyone thought there was any chemistry between us, but that hadn’t stopped the internet.
I was just flipping the worksheet over to start the other side when my phone started to blow up again, dinging over and over. I tried to ignore it, but it didn’t stop. I knew I should probably just turn off notifications on it, but I did like it when I could see what was happening after a show, what people were saying.
Besides, after the first ten notifications I ignored, I figured it was enough that there was a chance some new twist on the rumor started. What I hadn’t expected was being tagged in dozens of messages, all saying the same kind of thing.
“Charlie, I think someone leaked your address online!”
“Hey Charlie, be careful, your address is all over Widget and a couple of other sites.”
“Some asshole doxxed you, Charlie.”
“Shit,” I said out loud to no one.
I clicked over to Widget and started searching. Sure enough, there was my address, along with a photo of the house that looked like it was taken years ago. I couldn’t tell who actually posted it, since nearly every message was referencing that they’d found “this posted.” Some were malicious, people who still decided I was in the wrong from the Alina thing, but most were people who seemed to be trying to help me, let me know it was out there, while inadvertently spreading the post further by copying it in their post to me.
“Shit, shit, shit!” I said, running up to Hanna’s mom’s room.
She’d gotten home about ten minutes before and had said she was going to lay down for a bit.
I may have knocked a bit too urgently, because she opened the door and said, “Charlie, what’s wrong? What’s the matter?”
I held up my phone showing one of the posts.
“Oh, dear.”
“Yeah.”
“We should call your new security people,” she said, which is probably what I should have thought to do right away.
“She grabbed her phone and dialed the number she’d apparently already programmed in, once again showing me how unprepared I was. They’d already had me install the tracking software and panic button app on my phone, and yet even then, I hadn’t even thought about putting their number in my phone.
After a few rings, Isaiah picked up and said, “Hi Jennifer. I’m going to assume you’re calling about the leak, right?”
“Yes. You know about it?”
“Our team just found it about ten minutes ago, and we were looking into it. I was just about to call you, actually.”
“What happened?” I asked.
“We don’t have all the answers yet. About thirty-five minutes ago, an account that was just created on the social media app Widget posted your home address, a picture of your home taken from what we believe was the original listing when it was purchased ten years ago, and a reference to the article on you on the site SpilledTea, along with a suggestion that those who still believed that article could find you at home and take it up with you. We’ve already spoken to the social media company about taking it down, as it violates several federal laws, but I do not believe that will solve the issue, given the nature of the internet.”
“Yeah, I saw that,” I said. “People who were messaging me about it were accidentally copying the message, so it’s now on their account. Do we know who put it up?”
“Not yet. We’ve requested that from Widget, but they are standing behind their privacy rules. The only real way to get it would be to sue them and subpoena the information, but since they took down the violating post, they could claim they moderated the content within the scope of the law, which would get any lawsuit thrown out before it got to discovery. Sites like this tend to be very much for strong privacy when it comes to requests from the private sector. We might have better luck by looking into criminal charges, and we’ve reached out to some former colleagues, but that’s honestly a long shot.”
“Damn.”
“In the meantime, what do we do about our security here, Isaiah?” Mrs. Phillips asked.
“We still haven’t finished the full security plan for your home, but I’ve already put in a request to expedite it. Even still, it takes time to order the systems and get them installed. We will try to move faster. For now, we’ll do what we can to secure your residence with what’s there. I’ve already spoken to Deke, and I will be heading that way shortly. I’m prepared to stay nearby or on-premises, which you and I will figure out together, Jennifer, until we get the security systems in place. My next call will be to Sheriff Gibbs, to let him know what is happening, so he’s prepared to come out to you quickly, should there be any issues. Until then, I want you to keep the doors and windows locked at all times, look around before you step outside, and try to not come and go from the residence after dark. Again, that might only be for today, until I can get out there.”
“Okay,” Mrs. Phillips said, clearly not loving the solution, but at least understanding it. “Thank you, Isaiah.”
“Sure,” he said, and hung up.”
Mrs. Phillips hung up the phone and let out a long sigh. “Well, that’s not ideal, but at least they’re on top of it.”
“Maybe we should stay somewhere else until they get the security stuff figured out here. Like a hotel or something.”
“No. I’m not going to be run out of my own house by some internet troll with too much time on their hands.”
“But what if someone actually shows up here? What if they try to break in or something?”
“Then we’ll deal with it. Isaiah will be here for some time, Sheriff Gibbs will know about it and isn’t far, and soon they’ll have better security on the house.”
“I guess,” I said. “It just feels like such … I don’t know, like I can’t keep anything of myself just here. Paparazzi hanging around taking pictures and then spinning things out of proportion, crazy people who think we’re friends or something even though we’ve never met.”
“I know, honey. But unfortunately, this is part of what you signed up for when you decided to be in the public eye. It’s the price of fame. You could always stop, go and be a doctor or something.”
“No, I couldn’t. And you know that. You know, I just had a thought. What if GLR was behind this? After the interview, Warren got them to back off on kicking me off the tour, but they’ve been trying one thing after another, and I get the feeling they wouldn’t just let it go so easily.”
“Do you think they’d stoop to payback?”
“I don’t know. Vince might. I’m not saying they did, just that it feels like too much of a coincidence. They’ve been predatory from the start, trying to pressure me into signing with them. Maybe I should just let them put Vince in my place, give them what they want so they leave me alone.”
“Now that would be a mistake,” she said. “The tour is almost over. If you quit now, not only have you taken everything up to this point for nothing, but you’ve made it easier for them to do the next time. Quitting now only hurts you.”
“Yeah, I know. It just stinks.”
“I know it does. You’re just going to suck it up and do what you need to do. I guarantee this won’t be the last dishonest person you meet in Hollywood.”
“Yeah,” I said, a little dejected.
“I picked up some ice cream yesterday. How about we have some. Make ourselves feel better.”
“I’d like that,” I said.
***
When Isaiah said he’d expedite getting our security system installed, he wasn’t joking. Just two days later we had contractors all over our house. By the time I got home from school, they had completely transformed the place into a fortress. A tall, wrought-iron fence now surrounded the backyard that looked pretty nice and had spikes at the top to make climbing harder. They were also cameras all over the place, most with motion-activated floodlights attached to them.
Isaiah had explained that we would have a monitor in the house where we could see any of those, access the cameras from our phones, and their offices would also monitor them as well, so that if someone was on the property, we didn’t need to go outside to deal with them. And they’d call the sheriff for us as part of their response plan if they saw something happening on the video that warranted it.
Beyond that, they’d also replaced our front and back doors with ones that looked kind of similar and still nice, but were actually reinforced steel on the inside, along with reinforced door jambs and multi-point bolts to make it all but impossible to kick in. They were also in the middle of replacing all of our first-floor windows with shatter-proof ones that were sealed shut permanently, to make it very difficult to get in that way.
It did occur to me some of this was a fire hazard, as we would be more limited on how we could get out of the house, but he said that was one of the reasons the upper-floor windows were left alone.
Hanna’s mom, however, was a bit in a tizzy watching them work, pacing back and forth across the living room, agitated.
“I don’t know about all this. I mean, the house looks like a prison now. It’s going to kill the resale value.”
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to cause so much trouble,” I said.
It was my fault all of this had to be done. And she was right, this was … extreme. I didn’t think it looked bad, especially the fence, but the cameras everywhere and the windows that wouldn’t open definitely gave it a prison-like feel.
“No, sweety. It’s not your fault people out there can’t control themselves. I knew what I was signing up for when I brought you into this house, and what your goals were, so I didn’t go into this blind. It’s just … a little bit of a shock.”
We were out front, watching them put in the last of the windows, when Warren’s car pulled up and he, Benny, and a woman I didn’t know got out.
“Benny? What are you doing in the middle of nowhere?” I said.
Benny made it a regular point to make little jokes about how I lived in, what he called, the “ass end of the world.” It didn’t bother me. He was a big city guy and it was just his style, which I’d started to grow used to.
“My job, kid. Only reason you’d ever find me out here. We found someone to manage your publicity. This is Quinn Chandler.”
“Hi,” I said, shaking her hand.
She was a lot younger than anyone I’d expected them to bring along. If I had to guess, she was in her mid-twenties or maybe early thirties. They’d spent some time searching for the right person, and this wasn’t what I expected.
My tone or maybe how I was looking at her must have given away what I was thinking because she said, “I’m young, but my portfolio speaks for itself.”
She had a very strange accent. It wasn’t really regional, or at least not a region I’d ever heard. It seemed very … classy, maybe. But not exactly in the British way, since it was still very much American.
“Sorry, I wasn’t trying to judge,” I said, leading them into the house.
“It’s fine. I have grown used to it, as have you, I imagine, given your vocation and age.”
“Toche. It’s nice to meet you.”
“I’ve spent some time following your career as I’ve been in talks with these gentlemen, especially the most recent events. While I will say there are things I would have recommended you do differently, you should be commended on how you handled the situation overall. That was possibly the fastest I’ve ever heard of an accusation like this being so completely shut down.”
“I assume you would have done it in a way where people didn’t think I was dating Alina now.”
“I’m not so sure. It actually isn’t the worst thing in the world for your profile, being attached to someone that receives so much more press. It keeps people talking about you in a somewhat positive manner and keeps you relevant.”
“But I have a girlfriend. Wouldn’t that create a backlash? Besides, I can’t do that to my girlfriend. If anything, I’d like to stop the rumors.”
“It will die down on its own as long as we don’t actively fuel them. The worst thing we could do in a situation like this would be to try and quash the rumors. I think you would find it has the opposite effect. The public tends to double down, as it were, on theories when the subjects of those theories try and deny them, seeing the denial as proof of its veracity.”
“Ohh,” I said.
I hadn’t considered that.
“I just meant to say that your method of countering the article was a net positive, even with, or especially with, the rumors that started up in its wake.”
“I see. So, I guess I should ask what your plans are if you take over public relations for me?”
“I’ve planned out a two-pronged approach, traditional and more direct. The traditional route will involve getting you in more interviews, getting your face out there more. The more people hear your name, the better it will be for you. While your ability will take you far, there are a lot of good musicians out there, many of whom, most really, no one will ever know about. The key to getting to that next level is name recognition. There’s a reason you see commercials for sodas or car brands everyone already knows because the key is keeping yourself in front of your audience, to remind them you are there.”
“Okay,” I said.
That had been what I’d assumed she’d be doing since that was what I thought of when I thought of PR.
“The other would be a more retail approach. Keeping you posting on social media, engaging with fans, doing merch giveaways, and generally connecting you more with the people who will buy your product. These days, people really want a parasocial relationship, where they feel like they know the person they’re following and giving money to. But... not too much. They also want the mystery. They like coming up with theories about what this song means and if it’s about that person, and so on.”
“I mean, that sounds great, but right now my girlfriend’s been managing the social media, and I kind of like having her involved.”
“Yes, I was told about that arrangement. Frankly, I think it’s a bad idea. If the relationship goes south, and she has access to your accounts, it could cause problems.”
“It won’t go bad. Kat and I are solid.”
“I’m sure you believe that, but in my experience, it’s best to keep personal relationships separate from business.”
“I get what you’re saying, but Kat’s not just my girlfriend. She’s my partner in all this. I trust her completely.”
“I strongly advise against it.”
“I know, and you aren’t the only one, but it’s important to me she stays involved.”
“You’re the boss. If you won’t listen to reason, all I can do is say I told you so when it’s all over. I would like to limit her to managing only your personal account and letting us take over the band account to keep it in sync with the other efforts we’ll be doing. I also will want access to your account to make suggestions and corrections as needed.”
Part of me wanted to flat out say no, to make sure Kat didn’t get pushed out, but I was also going to be paying this person for her advice. I’d just have to keep an eye on it to make sure she stood by her word and didn’t try to do an end run around me.
“Fine. You’re hired, I guess. Just keep me in the loop.”
“I will. It seems you’ve got a lot going on here, so I won’t keep you. We’ll get to work right away. I know your tour is getting near the end and you’re about ready to break out on your own, which means now is the time to hit the ground running.”
“Okay,” I said, standing up and shaking her hand. “Good luck, I guess.”
Comments
Whicked
I'm no editor, but it is Touche not Toche. Great story so far.
James Bartling
Wow these last few chapters have been an absolute whirl wind of activity, and Charlie is holding on for his life. It is great to see him reacting so well.
