Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87933 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 293(@300wpm)
“Will you ever learn?”
“No.”
“Let me guess, a whole lot of ‘They should’ve stayed broken up,’ a few homophobic slurs, death threats. Maybe something about sinning?”
“If it makes you feel any better, there’s way more supportive comments than negative. Woah, eleven million views now just in the time we’ve been awake. This is crazy.”
“Welcome to boy band mania.” I lean up on my elbow and kiss him good morning. “Is it weird that I’m thankful but also overwhelmed? Any minute now, Harley’s going to call with some crazy other idea, and it’s going to be nonstop for the foreseeable future. I haven’t gotten a break in ten years.”
“You and me. Two weeks on some tropical island somewhere. I’ll make sure to get my team to schedule all studio meetings for two weeks after the tour.”
I was kind of hoping for longer than that, but I would never hold Jordan back from what he wants, and if he wants to get into directing, he needs to build relationships with other studios. He’s already taking time out to follow me on tour, so two weeks is more than I could ever ask for. “Deal.”
My phone buzzes on the nightstand, and I reach for it. “Oh, look at that. It’s Harley.” I answer it and put it on speaker. “What’s up?”
“Pack a bag. We’re going to New York.”
I look at Jordan and give him my I told you so face.
I’ve been backstage at talk shows a million times before, so this is nothing new, but the butterflies and wariness in my gut are.
I thought we’d have more time to prepare for this interview, but in true Harley fashion, it’s full speed ahead twenty-four hours a day. It’s a whirlwind, but I have complete trust in him and what we’re doing.
We’re doing it right this time. We’re being ourselves. We’re being honest. And we’re putting our happiness and truth first. It will probably cost us sales—we know that. But there are more important things than money.
Jordan, who came along for the ride to New York, wraps his arm around my shoulder. “You look nervous.”
“It’s the first time we’re performing together in years.”
“Didn’t you do a tribute to your old manager a few months ago?”
“Okay, yes, but that was a spur-of-the-moment thing. This is … daunting.” Even though this is supposed to be all about us, years of being in the business have me questioning What if they don’t like the new stuff?
We’ve accounted for some dip in sales, but there has to be a bottom line. What if it tanks so badly, we can’t even afford to go on this tour?
“Is it having to address your sexuality on national TV? Because yeah, that’s daunting,” Jordan says.
“That hadn’t even crossed my mind. But now it has, so thanks for that.”
“You guys will kill it out there.” He kisses the side of my head, and I revel in the small gesture in a public place. I want to be able to kiss him whenever I want, and after this airs, I’ll be able to. Within reason. I don’t really have any desire to let paps sell photos of us doing it and get rich from them.
The other guys are close by. We’re all ready to go onstage. Our earpieces are in, our clothes are uncomfortable but look amazing—according to Jordan—and we’re just waiting for Sean Rushton to introduce us.
We’re filming ahead of time. It will go performance, interview, tour information, and I have a feeling we’ll be here all day and night. Gideon prepared us for the questions Sean’s going to ask, and if he does cross any boundaries, it’s in our contracts that we can make them edit them out. But I’m still nervous.
After three years of Eleven being apart, we’re back.
Three years might not seem like much, but in Hollywood years, it’s an entire marriage. Maybe two.
A production assistant tells us we can go onstage and take our places in front of our microphone stands. I haven’t met Sean yet, but the set lights go up, and he’s there behind his desk.
“Welcome back to the show,” he says to the camera. His red hair and young looks remind me of when Conan O’Brien started out. “Boy band mania swept the world once again when these guys dropped an exclusive single yesterday.”
The studio audience goes nuts, and I feel it—like a lightning rod to the gut. Adrenaline fills my veins, my heart thumps, and the thrill I always had performing with these guys alights.
Gone are the nerves; all that remains is the need to give the best performance of my life.
“It’s official,” Sean says. “Eleven are back. And here to sing their new single! Boys, take it away.”
The lights illuminate us from above, each of us under an individual spotlight.
The music video plays on screens behind us. Harley opens the song, and we each sing our little verse or bridge or chorus. I’m usually relegated to backup vocals, which I’m happy to do, but even I get a little solo in this song. Harley insisted we do things fair and square this time around.