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Chapter 12— The Interview
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For the first time in over a week, I was back in my fishnets, black leather boots, and band tees. For the first time in over a week, I could let my wild curly red hair tumble down my shoulders like the lion’s mane that it was. I could lose the fake glasses and wear eyeliner again. Granted, it was all still a costume, but I wasn’t Jenny Tyler anymore. At least not for today.
The broadcasting room chair I’d been sitting in was awkward and uncomfortable. I’d been adjusting myself for the past several minutes while watching bearded men in dark clothes hook up wires and cables and check microphones. I expected the basic interview questions: what new projects are you working on, how’s the band, what was rehab like…
But, Anarchy Road hadn’t really been in the spotlight since “the incident”. I honestly didn’t fully know what to expect. Luckily, I wasn’t doing it all alone. Sitting next to me in an equally uncomfortable chair was our bassist and one of my best friends Trevor Grey. You know, the one I briefly dated before nearly starving myself to death and collapsing onstage at a concert?
“How ya feeling?” Trevor remarked, squirming in his chair and knitting his fingers together.
Trevor and I hadn’t spoken much since the summer. In the meantime, he’d buzzed off his dark brown hair and got a tattoo of a sickle on his forearm. I’d always admired Trevor for his calming, if not menacing, presence. The way he looked at people either told them he didn’t care at all or he cared dangerously too much. I just didn’t know how he did it.
I shrugged and gave him a fake smile. “I’m alright. Feeling a little weird.”
“Why?” Trevor was truly a man of few words.
“I haven’t done an interview since the tour. I don’t know what to say.”
Trevor sighed and looked ahead of him, leaning over in his chair so his skull necklace hung like a noose around his neck. His dark eyes gazed across the broadcasting studio like he was already bored.
“Then, don’t say much,” he replied, a lazy smirk pulling his lip.
Trevor was a great bassist but not the best hype man.
I held a breath in and nodded, focusing my attention away. Not long after, another bearded man who looked to be the host gave us our headphones and two water bottles. He introduced himself as Cody, the station’s main show host and said he listened to our music all the time. But, the Florence + the Machine lyrics tattooed on his wrists said otherwise. All the while Cody briefed us on the interview, I felt a heavy knot lying in the pit of my stomach. What if I said the wrong thing? What if someone at school heard the interview and recognized my voice? What if it was Angie? What if it was Rodrick?
I looked back through the glass window separating the broadcasting room from the mixing studio. Beyond stood our manager Marcus, arms crossed and chatting away with another radio engineer. Marcus promised me it would all be okay. I knew I had to trust him enough for that to be true. But, what if this interview was just the hammer strike that would break the cracked glass Anarchy Road stood on? What was I without them?
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“Okay, and we’re back. You’re listening to 108-FM The Kiss. I’m your host Cody Lance, and we’ve got two real special guests here in the studio today—Trevor Grey and Philly Emmet of hit punk rock band Anarchy Road. How ya doin, guys?”
It came out forced and nearly choked, but I chirped, “Great, thanks.”
Trevor just nodded before remembering he needed to say something and leaned into the mic to drone, “Yeah, cool.”
Cody looked back at us from across the table and nodded, “Awesome. Well, just to catch up some of our listeners, Anarchy Road has been pretty big amongst teens and youths looking to rebel from their parents or those just looking to feed their inner demons. The band rose to popularity over two years ago and has been on an upward climb ever since their album cut ‘Kissing the Reaper’ made it to the Billboard Top 100. What was that like for ya guys?”
I looked at Trevor, wondering if he was willing to take the question but he reflected back the same expectant and brooding expression I was used to.
“Um, yeah, it was awesome. We never expected that a group of kids like us just fooling around with instruments in our parent’s basement could become what we have. ‘Kissing the Reaper’ has meant so much to our fans, and when it got the recognition it did, we realized that there were people out there who really resonate with our vibe and our music.”
Cody continued to nod and nod, seeming to never stop. “Yeah, yeah, yeah…” he said, a passive and chill lilt in his voice, “Now ya guys started the band pretty young, right?”
“Yeah, middle school,” Trevor finally added.
“Chill. Must’ve been tough getting so famous that young. Kinda like Hannah Montana, right?”
“Who?” Trevor asked, his dark eyes squinting slightly.
I nearly gaped at him and repeated, “Hannah Montana. Like on Disney Channel?”
Trevor shook his head and shrugged while leaning back into his chair.
“How have you never—You know what? Nevermind,” I said, deciding to turn my attention back to the interview, “Getting famous so young has really had its challenges, but the band has stuck together through all of it.”
“But, you’re still in school, right, Philly?”
At the very mention, I tensed up all over and felt my throat close up.
“Uh, yeah,” I choked out.
“Well tell us what it’s like for ya. Your teachers asking for autographs and all the boys swooning over ya…”
I began shaking my head and trying to smile through the uncomfortable rigidness in my body. “Not really, actually. I…I try to keep a low profile. School’s never been the easiest for me. I’m much better up onstage in front of an audience.”
“Well that hasn’t really been that easy for ya either, has it?”
I cocked my head slightly and furrowed my brow. “Excuse me?”
Cody gestured to me, a passive and insinuating smile playing on his face. “We can’t exactly have an interview about Anarchy Road without at least mentioning the infamous concert catastrophe of last year, right?”
I froze like a statue, my eyes suddenly glassing over. My breath lodged itself in my throat, refusing to move an inch. I’d hoped and I’d prayed that it wouldn’t come up—that we could somehow get through the stupid interview without mentioning “the incident”. But, I was quickly coming to the realization that this was just a foolish hope. Originally, we’d released a statement to the public saying I was fine and that I was just suffering an intense migraine due to an illness—which wasn’t necessarily a lie—and that I’d be going to a specialist and doctors to help me get better. But, no one outside of our label knew the whole truth; and we planned to keep it that way.
I collected my scattered thoughts and tried to form words, but before I could, Trevor jumped in.
“It was an accident. Philly just…wasn’t feeling well. Touring is hard, man. Not like you could do it.”
Cody chuckled after the blatant insult and leaned back in his chair, a judgmental glint in his eye.
“Nah, man, you’re right. Got it too cozy here in the studio. But, like, that concert was so crazy. Philly just went down like a rock. Smack!” He clapped his hands loudly, making me jump in my chair.
My every nerve was on end, and I knew Trevor sensed it in me. My hands grew sticky and slick with sweat—not a hot look. My skin was cold and clammy against the stiff studio chair. I did the only thing I could and peered over at Marcus behind the studio window. He was looking back and forth between the host and I, a hand curled around his chin. I hoped for some sort of assurance, some sort of message telling me it would be okay. But, I only received expecting stares and dead silence.
“Ya there, Philly?” Cody hooted, “Ya aren’t gonna pass out again, are ya? These floors aren’t really that clean enough for a nap.” He filled the awkward silence with annoying nasally chuckles.
“Shut up.”
I barely heard the word escape my lips before I realized it came from me. Cody stopped his laughing at once and gave me a confused look.
“What?” he grunted.
“I said shut up,” I snapped back, each word burning the tip of my tongue. “I didn’t come here to be mocked and laughed at like some ridiculous circus clown. I came here to talk about the band—my band—Anarchy Road. What happened last year wasn’t a little headache or a cold that we can all sit and joke about now. I was hurting. I was weak. I felt like I was dying. I was—”
My words tapered off as my anger sizzled down. I noticed I was pushing myself out of my chair and forcing my face so close to the mic that I was probably distorting the stupid recording. I didn’t care. But, Cody still gaped at me with that mindless, childish expression.
“I was starving…Look, I have spent the last year replaying that night over and over in my head—beating myself up about it until I physically couldn’t see straight. I couldn’t take care of myself. I didn’t know how. But, Anarchy Road has worked so hard to reach the heights we have. And the band doesn’t deserve to suffer because of me.” I passed a look to Trevor who bore his intense yet understanding gaze into mine. “Not anymore.”
A few seconds of uneasy silence hung over the studio as the engineers considered shutting off the broadcast or keeping it up to capture a few more moments of drama. Cody blinked back a few times as if someone had blown something into his eyes. His mouth hung open slightly and he scratched the side of his head.
“Wow, um, wow.” Cody looked at his producers briefly, perhaps searching for some sort of clue for what he should do next, but they continued waving hands at him and gesturing for him to continue. He turned back to face Trevor and I, a stunned expression overtaking his bearded face. “What a speech. Got it, I guess. So…I’m sure our listeners would like to know. What has Anarchy Road been up to in the past several months?”
After Cody asked the question, I felt the beginnings of a smile creep up on my face. A warm hand rested on my shoulder, and I turned to see Trevor sharing my same look, his dark eyes calming my tightened nerves. The slight decline of Anarchy Road was my fault, no doubt. But, for a second, I let myself believe too that perhaps the band didn’t resent me for it. Maybe we needed the time to grow and learn. Maybe, one day, it’d be okay again. I turned back and saw Marcus smiling my way and nodding a solid sign of approval. I smiled back. But, that didn’t seem to matter as much.
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