Chapter Twenty-Six
Jonathan
“Oh my God,” Gabby whispers to me. “This is so cool. I can’t believe you’re friends with Charlotte James.”
Grinning, I pull her in for a kiss. We’re backstage after Charlie’s concert. She hooked me up with amazing tickets and backstage passes for Gabby and me. Charlie’s been wanting to meet Gabby since our lunch at the beginning of the summer, but she’s been touring the summer festivals and been out of town pretty much the whole time Gabby’s been here.
On our way to Charlie’s dressing room, we dodge road crew members dressed all in black rushing around, already tearing everything down and getting ready to load it out for the next venue. Gabby’s still staring at everything wide eyed, allowing me to lead her in the right direction with my arm around her waist.
We pass through the greenroom filled with waiting press, a few fans who must be waiting for their meet and greet, and a table along one side bearing picked over fruit, veggie, and deli trays—all the cheese is gone, as usual—plus bottles of water on one end. The short hallway on the other side of the greenroom is lined with closed doors, the lights still low. Leading Gabby down the hall to the door marked for Charlie, I knock twice then crack the door.
“Charlie? It’s Jonathan. Is it okay to come in?”
The door flies open, Charlie standing there, a happy grin on her face. “Only if you brought Gabby, loser.” Her blue eyes light up when she notices Gabby pressed against my side. She extends both hands and pulls us into the dressing room. It’s small but comfortable, with a plush couch on one wall, a lighted mirror on the opposite wall, and a coffee table in the middle littered with plates, napkins, water bottles, and Charlie’s half-eaten post-show snack.
She sits down on one end of the couch and motions for us to make ourselves comfortable. She still has on her heavy show makeup and the clip-in streaks of hot pink in her platinum blonde hair, but she’s changed out of her last costume into cut-off denim shorts and a pink tank top with her concert tour logo on it.
I sit on the opposite end of the couch, Gabby between Charlie and me. Gabby sits as close to me as possible without climbing in my lap and keeps shooting me anxious glances. Fighting a smile at her nerves, I wrap my arm around her, hoping that’ll help her relax.
“You guys hungry?” Charlie asks. “I could have someone bring plates for you, too.”
Gabby shakes her head, mute.
“I’ll take a water,” I say. “We ate a big dinner before the show, so we’re good. Thank you.”
With a nod, Charlie stands and grabs two bottles of water off the counter in front of the mirror, handing them to Gabby and me.
Charlie looks Gabby over as she resumes her seat, her wide smile back in place, her eyes lingering where my hand rests on Gabby’s hip. “I’m so happy to finally meet you, Gabby. Jonathan could barely talk about anything but you the last time we saw each other, which is saying something, considering he has a new album coming out soon.”
Gabby visibly swallows. “Hi.” Her voice comes out breathy, and she clears her throat before speaking again. “It’s nice to meet you too. I’ve been a fan of yours for years, but haven’t ever been able to go to a concert before. Much less go backstage. I can’t believe you’re friends with Jonathan. He didn’t even tell me until that picture of you guys together showed up everywhere in June. And he said that you wanted to meet me, but with your busy tour schedule he wasn’t sure it would be able to happen, since I was only supposed to be here for like two weeks. But then I started playing for studio recordings so I convinced my parents to let me stay for the whole summer so I could take advantage of the opportunities. And oh my God, I’m talking so much, and I want to stop but I can’t.” The flood of words finally stops when Gabby presses both hands over her mouth, shaking her head. “I’m so sorry,” comes out muffled, but understandable through the barrier of her hands.
Charlie’s eyes dance with amusement as they cut to me and back to Gabby again. “You’re fine. Talk all you want. I don’t mind.”
Pulling her hands away from her face, Gabby takes a deep breath. “I babble when I get nervous.”
With a laugh, Charlie pushes on Gabby’s leg. “Don’t be nervous. Anyone important to Jonathan is okay in my book. He’s like the big brother I never had. So when he can’t stop talking about a girl, it makes me curious. Tell me about yourself. I know you play the violin. You’ve been getting studio work? That’s awesome. How’s it going?”
Gabby glances at me, and I give her an encouraging smile and a squeeze. Turning back to Charlie, she gives a shaky grin. “Good. It’s going good. The music hasn’t been too difficult. I’m taking lessons from the principal violinist, and she’s been making me work more on sight reading. At every lesson she makes me read something that’s really hard. Random orchestral parts, solo stuff, movie score parts, all kinds of crazy stuff. But it’s good. Really good. And I can’t believe I’m already building my resume at nineteen.”
Charlie’s grin pulls sideways at Gabby’s last statement, and Gabby falters when she notices, looking between Charlie and me as we exchange a look.
“Oh, right,” Gabby continues. “I guess starting a resume at nineteen isn’t that impressive when you make it big at like twelve or sixteen.”
Clearing her throat, Charlie has the grace to look abashed. “No. That’s not it. Not exactly. It’s more that I wouldn’t know what it’s like to get work like that based on my musical abilities, rather than some connection my parents made in the industry when I was a kid.” She shrugs, her eyes still on her plate. “I mean, I know I have a nice voice, and I have some skill on the piano, but I haven’t had the opportunity to develop it since, as you said,” she lifts her eyes to Gabby, “I started performing at twelve. I was a cute kid, pretty, and that’s had more to do with my success than any actual talent or skill.”
“Charlie.” My voice holds a note of warning, and she looks at me, her mouth twisting.
“Come on, Jonathan. We both know it’s true. It’s as much why you and your brothers got picked up at the same time. Except once Colt’s voice changed, you lost your cuteness appeal and couldn’t quite transition to sex appeal. With the way little girls are sexualized basically from birth, it’s easier for a girl to make that transition. Even if it comes with a lot of media backlash.”
She swallows and looks down again on the last statement, and my stomach twists at the unhappiness written on her face. We’ve talked about some of this stuff over the years. I know that early fame has taken its toll on her. My brothers and I were only in the spotlight for a little over a year, and it took a toll on us. I can’t imagine what it would do to a kid—especially a girl—to go through puberty in the public eye. Everything she’s done over the years has been dissected, pulled apart, criticized ad nauseam. She usually brushes it off like it’s no big deal, but at times like this, I realize how much of an act that is. Even for me. Ever the performer, she doesn’t want to bring down our conversations, so she puts on a smile and brushes it aside.
Like she does right now. It looks false at first, at least to me because I’ve known her long enough that I can tell, but once the conversation changes, it’ll become real. That’s the way Charlie works.
“Sorry,” she says. “That’s not what we’re here to talk about.” Her eyes focus on Gabby’s. “I’m so happy for you. It sounds like you’ve had an amazing summer. Are you going to go on any of the legs of Jonathan’s tour with him? I know he said you’re planning on going back to school, but I didn’t know if you might be able to take some time off or something.”
Gabby freezes for a second, staring at Charlie, holding herself stiffly against me. Charlie glances at me, her face a silent question. Finally, Gabby relaxes, just a little, but she answers Charlie’s question. “Um, no.” Her voice sounds hoarse, and she clears her throat again, throwing an indecipherable look my way. “No, I won’t be able to join Jonathan for more than a concert here and there. I’m planning on going to the ones close enough to Spokane to get to easily, but I can’t really take time off from school. The music theory classes are only offered once a year, so if I took off even a semester, I’d be a year behind with my major classes.”
Her brows drawn together, Charlie opens her mouth, and I know she’s going to ask another question about why Gabby can’t make it work to join me on the tour. But she catches the shake of my head. Tonight is supposed to be about having a good time. Not thinking ahead to how difficult things will be in just a few short weeks.
Closing her mouth for a second, Charlie swallows, then says, “I guess I didn’t realize that.” With a crooked smile, she says, “I wouldn’t have any idea about college schedules. I’ve only had tutors since I was twelve. And every time I’ve talked about taking a break and maybe going to school, or even staying in one place long enough to take some piano lessons for a while, my parents, my manager, and my agent all gang up on me and tell me it would be career suicide.” She sighs, and rubs at her eyes. I notice the bags under her eyes for the first time, her rubbing smudging the heavy makeup enough that I can see the faint discoloring of dark circles. She looks exhausted.
Concern has me scooting forward. “Charlie, are you okay? If you need to take a break, you should take a break. You’ve been around for years, putting out more albums in that time than most artists. If anyone deserves a break, it’s you.”
She gives me her forced smile again. “Thanks for the concern, Johnny B. I’m fine. I’ll be fine. I have some time off coming up soon. Three whole weeks. I think I might spend it sleeping, because I haven’t been doing much of that lately.”
Gabby looks between us, her brows furrowed, and I know she wants to say something, but since she doesn’t know Charlie that well, she keeps her thoughts to herself. Now that her initial nerves have passed, so has her babbling.
Turning back to Gabby, Charlie pats her hand. “Tell me about studying music in college. I have a million questions. What’s it like? What classes do you take? What’s your favorite part?”
“Oh, um,” Gabby looks at me again, a little thrown by the quick change, but I give her an encouraging smile.
“Tell her about Dr. Lolo. I always love your stories about him.”
With a snort and a crooked smile, Gabby turns back to Charlie and tells her some of my favorite stories about her Sight Singing and Ear Training professor. I crack up like always at her impression of him, the high pitched voice, the fake accent, garbled by her own soft southern drawl, the way she holds her hands in front of her like they’re resting on top of something and says, “Sol-ti-re-fa! It’s so easy! So easy! You are music students. You shouldn’t have free time. If you are not in class or rehearsal, you should be in the practice rooms. Otherwise you will never succeed.”
Charlie cracks up. “Seriously? He actually says stuff like that?”
Her expression solemn, but her eyes dancing, Gabby nods. “All the time. My roommate and I keep track of the crazy things he says in a notebook. It’s hilarious, but also kind of scary, because he’s completely serious. He truly believes that we shouldn’t do anything except go to class and practice.”
Charlie’s laughter dies, her smile slipping away as her head cocks to one side. “Yeah, well. A career in music takes a lot of dedication. I can see where he’s coming from.” Her eyes are unfocused as she stares into the distance, thinking. Then her gaze sharpens, her smile pulling at her mouth. “Still, it sounds like you have fun. I’d love to have the chance to do something like that. Being on the road all the time gets lonely. I’m surrounded by people, but I don’t have a lot of friends. Even if I had a crazy professor, having friends to laugh about it with sounds like a dream come true.”
Silence greets her words, and I don’t know what to say. I had my brothers on tour with me, not to mention the fact that I was older when we started playing. And Charlie’s been touring since she was barely a teenager. Sure, she takes breaks. But between recording new albums, and then the tours to promote each one, she’s been working almost nonstop for years. Her words make me wonder how much of that is motivated by her, and how much is her being pushed by her parents and manager. While my mom sometimes goes a little too far, she was never the pushy stage mom you hear horror stories about. Charlie’s mom, though? She was exactly that stereotype. Which is why Charlie’s career took off so early.
We had fun touring with her as kids. And her comments about being lonely on tour make me understand things in a way I didn’t as a teenager. She’s Brendan’s age, so she fit right in with the three of us. But she always sought us out, tried extra hard to make us feel welcome when we opened for her, and hung out with us whenever we all had downtime. It’s harder to force that kind of camaraderie with your opening acts as you get older and your star power grows.
She looks at me then, her blue eyes pointed, like she knows I’m starting to feel sorry for her. Don’t is clearly communicated in her expression.
Clearing my throat, I hold her gaze. “You should do it. Take some time off. Enroll in school. Dye your hair brown or something so people don’t recognize you and study music for a year or two.”
Her mouth twists, a cross between amusement and derision. “Yeah. That’ll go over like a lead balloon when I try to float that idea. And where would I go? Hmm? Even if I change my hair, I don’t think I’d be able to hide in plain sight around here for long. Someone would figure it out, and the paparazzi would never leave me alone.”
Gabby glances between us. “Well, Marycliff was really good about dealing with the paparazzi when Jonathan’s video went viral last year. I bet you could blend in if you tried. Not many people realized who Jonathan was before that video.”
With a snort, Charlie shakes her head, but I know her well enough to realize that she’s doing it as a defense mechanism. The idea appeals to her on some level, she just doesn’t want to think it might be possible and get her hopes up in case there’s no way in hell it’ll ever work. “No offense, Jonathan, but you guys weren’t quite as recognizable as I am. Especially since you were out of the press for a few years before you went to college.” She waves at herself. “Everyone knows what I look like on and off stage. The hair and makeup and everything, this persona I wear on stage is supposed to make it easier for me to be incognito off stage, but you know it doesn’t really work. The Hannah Montana effect is a cute idea, but it never works out that well in reality. Not for long, anyway.”
I nod, not wanting to push too far and make her mad. Charlie knows what she can and can’t make happen. And she’s the one who has to ultimately decide whether she wants to keep living like this or not.
But I can’t stop myself from saying one last thing. “I know you have a flock of people who have a lot of pull in your decision-making. But it’s really liberating, and a lot more fun, when you decide that you’re okay with walking away. You have a lot more negotiating power from that position. And you get more control over your decisions and your life.”
Charlie’s blue eyes examine my face, the silence stretching between us as she considers my words.
A knock on the door interrupts us, and a dark-haired woman pokes her head in the room. “Sorry to bother you, but you need to be out for your meet and greet in five.”
At Charlie’s nod, the woman leaves. Charlie stands, looking at us. “You guys wanna hang out and come to the after party? Or do you need to get back home?”
With a glance at Gabby, who nods, I give Charlie a smile. “The after party sounds fun. Should we just hang out here till you’re done, or …?”
Charlie grins, looking thrilled that we’re going to the party with her. Dear Lord, I never realized how lonely she really is. “Wait here. I’ll have someone bring you some food. You’ll need it if we’re going out tonight.”
With that she leaves, and Gabby turns to look at me. “Wow.”
“Wow?”
She nods, her eyes searching mine, her face solemn. “She’s great. But wow. I guess I’ve always thought being a pop star would be awesome, you know? But she seems so … I don’t know. Sad?” Her gaze focuses somewhere over my shoulder, and she shakes her head slowly. “No, that’s not quite it. Tired.” She focuses on my face again. “She seems exhausted. Not just tired from all the dancing and singing she did tonight, which was amazing and enough to wear anyone out I’m sure, but a sort of bone-deep weariness with life.”
Her eyes search my face some more, and she looks almost worried, but I’m not sure why exactly.
I reach for her hand, threading my fingers through hers. “What else are you thinking?”
She doesn’t answer. “Nothing. I just … Never mind. Do you think she’ll take a break? I think you’re right. She needs to.”
I shrug one shoulder and shake my head. “I honestly don’t know. I think she really wants to. But she has concerts booked for the next year, so if she does take a break, it might be a while before she can without letting a lot of people down.”
Gabby’s gaze gets abstract and unfocused again as she chews on her lip. “Huh. I guess I never thought about the downside of having an adoring audience. I mean, the paparazzi attention is an obvious downside, but constantly having to work, to produce, to perform. I can see why she’s exhausted.” Her eyes focus on mine again. “Promise me you’ll take care of yourself.”
I pull her closer, then urge her onto my lap so I can kiss her. “I will. I promise. My situation is different than hers. I have more control, since I’m coming into this as an adult. I don’t have to worry about disappointing my parents and my manager.”
Gabby makes a noncommittal sound, and my gaze sharpens. “What?”
Her mouth pulls to the side. “Well, your mom certainly has strong opinions about your career.”
“Yeah, well. She’s welcome to her opinions. That doesn’t mean she dictates what I’m going to do. Charlie hasn’t had the opportunity to be on her own, away from her parents, and learn to make decisions without their input or weighing their desires as heavily as her own, if not more heavily. You know?”
Gabby bites her lip and nods. “Yeah, okay. That makes sense. Marissa’s that way a little bit too. Not as much now since she’s older. But when she was my age, or even Charlie’s age, she took my parents’ opinion into consideration. More than Lance did at the same age. But he lived two thousand miles away, and she lived two miles away. So I get that.”
“Yeah. And her parents have been with her for all her tours, everything. And she still lives at home with them when she’s not on tour. But she needs to get away if she wants to start living life on her own terms.”
I bring her mouth to mine for a kiss. She melts against me, but then pulls back, looking into my eyes. “I don’t like the idea of you being lonely while you’re on tour,” she whispers.
“Well, you’ll just have to visit me as much as possible then.”
Her smile is sad, but she leans in and kisses me again, and I forget all about future loneliness. Because lonely is the last thing I’m feeling right now.