Going out on the promotion circuit is increasingly making me feel old.
Back in the day, I was out there with the four guys and we were young guns (except Chris, old fart that he is). I wasn't even twenty. The people we ended up doing TV spots with were people our own ages - Britney, Christina, Backstreet Boys, the whole teen pop crowd. We were the up and comers, the new frontier, the ones to watch out for. The older artists were keeping one cautious eye on us, lest we started snapping at their heels. Now, I'm nearly thirty. I'm usually a good five to ten years older than the people I wind up doing shows with. It's okay if I go on the bill at a hip hop show or with somebody like Maroon 5, then I don't stand out so much. But the mainstream stuff is now all these young kids when it seems like only yesterday that I was the fresh faced seventeen year old, making my first million before I was legal. I'm the veteran; I'm the old guy now. That's fucking weird.
It also makes me supremely uncomfortable when the media asks me for advice on how to survive the industry. What wisdom I'm supposed to offer I have no idea, half the time I still feel like it's on the verge of sending me crazy. I ran away and hid in Europe for two months because I couldn't take it last year, who the hell am I to give advice to Miley Cyrus or whoever? I screwed up plenty of times - more times than most people know about. Lucky for me I just had some smart people around me who managed to cover for my ass. Fuck, I'm still screwing up now.
That video was a prime example. Since Lily told me that Kate (my co-star) looks like Addy, I can barely stomach seeing the damn thing - which is a problem, because clips of it are everywhere and naturally since it's my new single people ask me to talk about it a lot. Trace told me I was stupid and oblivious for not seeing the similarity before, but since Addy has surpassed me in the blindness stakes by still not seeing it the heat's come off me a little. He and Rachael have had more than one conversation on how this could possibly be, but Justin Timberlake will not be looking the gift horse in the mouth. You can bet your ass she'd kill me if she realised, so the longer she remains in the dark the longer I continue to live and breathe.
All that is the least of my worries though - my gamble on the single choice has yet to pay off, and the label's starting to get twitchy. This may sound horribly arrogant of me, but it's actually come as kind of a shock. The previous issues I put down to the label's choice of songs, but now I've made the choice and it's still not happening. Am I losing my touch or something? It's cocky as all hell of me, but it's not like my track record doesn't back me up so why is it different this time? What am I doing wrong, what have I missed? Have I read the audience wrong, have I not publicised it enough? That's why I'm here at this TV studio, doing even more promotion than usual. Previously I had got to the point where I could be a little more discerning about where I appeared or who I chose to speak to, but now I'm whoring myself to pretty much everybody.
I've been forced to take a bite of humble pie and let me tell you, it's no Granny Bomar blueberry crunch.
Oh well. House of Suarez has been getting some great comments on the outfits, so at least I can have confidence that the announcement of Elena's William Rast diffusion line will be greeted with more enthusiasm than my latest single. Things are going well on one front, at least; they've come up with some great ideas but they've been very accommodating about changes that Trace and I have requested, and nobody gets precious about it if we criticise something or ask for a piece to be scrapped. It's nice to work with professionals who actually behave professionally; you'd be amazed how many don't.
"Okay JT," my make up artists tells me as she throws her last face wipe in the trash. "You're all done."
"That's it, I'm free?"
"Free to go." She smiles and gives me a friendly pat on the arm before turning back to her various pots and tubes and starting to put them all away in her case. I'm not sure which I hate more, having make up put on or waiting for it to be taken off. I know it's necessary on camera, but that doesn't mean I have to enjoy it.
"Alrighty then…" Rachael finally looks up from her date book and pulls herself off the counter where she was patiently waiting. "We need to get you to the airport. Flight leaves in two hours."
"I'm definitely all packed?" I ask as I ease my body out of the chair and wince at my protesting limbs. I've been doing such early starts and late finishes that I can really feel it. I'm older than I used to be, I don't bounce back so quickly.
"Yeah, they're all in the car and ready to go."
I like the way she looks when she concentrates. She purses her lip and keeps flicking her fringe out of her eyes with her fingers, only to have it immediately fall back over them again. Rachael always has such an intent look on her face when she's thinking - I always joke to her that in the back of her head she's Napoleon trying to work out which country to conquer next. She always gets irritated with me, but I think it's cute. You can almost see the cogs in her brain whirring.
"What ya doin'?" I ask. I was going for congenial but my tone comes out weary.
"Making plans."
"Plans?"
"Plans."
"What kind of plans?"
"Plan-y plans. Plans of planning."
Clearly she's not telling me. Which either means it involves girly shit I don't want to know about or it involves my shit that she doesn't want me to know about. If she weren't a friend of Trace's I'd give her benefit of the doubt and assume the former.
"Plans for how to keep from killing yourself while I'm away because you're so lonely without me?"
"Plans to extend your trip as long as possible."
"Damn woman," I complain as I sling my arm around her neck. "Harsh."
"Well quit being so fucking nosy then." Rachael tosses her date book in her bag and throws her arm around my waist harder than she really needed to.
"So sue me for being interested in my darlin' cousin."
"No, I'll sue you for being a nosy bitch."
"You could at least say bastard."
"Who would I be kidding?"
Needless to say, our relationship is mildly abusive. Sometimes it worries me that I enjoy that.
"Seriously, you guys aren't going to trash the joint are you?"
"Oh for fuck's sake, Mom, get a grip. Has your house ever blown up when we've been in charge?"
Okay, I did NOT blow the house up - just a few fuses and the lights. "I know my Nick award didn't walk off by itself."
Rachael's mouth drops open in disbelief. I wish I had my phone out so I could take a picture; she looks stupid. "You're like a little old lady. You're gonna be 92 and sittin' on your porch telling your kids for the millionth time about how your stupid Nickelodeon award went missing in the summer of '06."
"Way to avoid admission without denial."
"Dear Lord you need to get laid."
Heh. She can try and prevaricate all she wants, but I know that thing didn't go missing all on its lonesome. They had a party and some idiot stole it, I know it. I just can't really prove it. They think they're real sneaky, but the truth is that James Bond won't be calling them for stealth work any time soon. They think I don't notice that my stuff gets put back wrong, or with wear and tear it didn't have before? I know I'm pretty but that doesn't make me stupid.
Normally I wouldn't flip out over such petty things, but the way Trace and Rachael tell it I'm some spoiled kid who won't share his toys. They conveniently forget to mention that I only banned them after a truly disgusting day trying to clean vomit off of the trampoline and a very expensive pool cleaning bill. I have a large pool, so when it gets filled with trash and the cleaner gets paid by the hour it adds up. The fact that I can afford replacements doesn't make it okay to trash my shit.
It's all forgotten as we reach the car and I heave a sigh. I don't think there's anything I less want to do than this promotion, I'm going to be zipping through too many cities in too short a time frame, but I have little choice. Barry's not being an ass or anything, but he is breathing down my neck a little bit about the record. Naturally they're a little annoyed that I can write hits for people on other labels but that I can't write them for them. I keep telling him that he needs to trust and we'll find the right way to push the single, but it's a good thing I can act as well as sing because it required more conviction than I actually have right now.
Fuck, I need to stop being all 'woe is me.' It's depressing.
Before I know it Rachael has pushed me into the car, kissed my cheek and raced off: so much for a tender familial farewell. It's just as well because my phone is ringing. I hate the ring on it, it's obnoxious, but I only just got an iPhone and I can't work it out. Trace refuses to help because he says if I'm too stupid to get it then it's more educational if he forces me to fight through my incompetence. Sometimes it makes no sense that he's my best pal.
"Hello?" I never actually say my name in my phone greetings; more than one fan has managed to get through.
"Hey Justin, it's Lily."
It feels like my eyebrows just hit my scalp. "Uhh, hi."
"How are you?"
"Good, you?" I ask evenly.
"Peachy. Anyway, you're probably wondering how I got your number…" Yeah, really really am. "But I kind of stole it from Addy's phone. I hope you don't mind."
"Depends."
"Oh, it's nothing bad, promise." It's funny listening to her voice as opposed to Addy's. Despite her years on Adora Addy's is much more what you think of as 'proper' English, where Lily's is really relaxed and has more of an accent. She's not one to care if she doesn't pronounce a vowel or two.
"Go on." I'm still non-committal.
"Well, actually, I kind of want to call in a favour."
That's interesting, because as far as I know I don't owe her any favours for her to be calling them in. I barely know the woman. "Go on."
"Well you know Addy's birthday is the fifth, so I…"
I interrupt. "It is?"
"She didn't tell you?"
"Would I be asking if she had?"
"Lord, somebody overdosed on sarcasm today." A tinkling laugh sounds out at me. "But yes, it's her birthday on the fifth, and I have decided that I am going to throw her the most outrageous My Super Sweet 16 style party ever. Only without the pathetic attention whoring aspect because if I made some guys carry her in on a throne or whatever she'd kill me and then curse all of my bloodline."
I have to say I agree with her on that, but what does this have to do with me apart from my potential attendance? "So what do you need me for?"
"I have my heart set on somewhere outrageously exclusive and expensive but the downside to that is that they keep telling me they can't accommodate me."
"And you're thinking if Justin Timberlake asks they might suddenly have an opening?"
"You catch on quick, mate."
I do catch on quickly. The question is does she - Addy is not a person who likes splashy or ostentatious things. The happiest I've seen her was at a simple beach barbecue with her brother and a couple of friends, drinking wine and listening to cheesy 80s pop while Dante did a spoof Thriller routine. When Alex gave her a pay rise, I offered to take her anywhere she wanted to celebrate; after arguing with her for an age about whether or not it was okay for me to pay for dinner we wound up hitting Denny's after a movie. I'd been thinking a nice sushi place and we wound up with burgers and popcorn.
Point is, Addy is a simple person who does not enjoy spotlights… that's why I've been so damn twitchy over the video. A big blow out party is not her idea of a good time, even if Lily can afford it.
"If you want to go into Addy's phone one more time and steal Rachael's number, she'll set something up. Tell her I said to call."
"Ahh you're a legend, thanks JT. I know you're away for a while, will you be back for the fifth?"
"Should be, unless they extend my trip."
"So I can count you as first on the guest list?"
"Sure." I may disapprove, but if that's what's happening for Addy's birthday I'll be there to support. Besides, from the sound of things she may appreciate having a famous guy around to deflect some attention from her.
"Wicked. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go hit up your friend Rachael for catering contacts and then convince Alex that it's a brilliant idea to give everyone the afternoon off on the fifth to prepare. Ciao."
"Bye."
Scary thing is I bet she'll probably manage it. I'm starting to get the impression that you either jump on the Lily train or get the hell off the tracks. She'd probably pack a harder punch than a freight train, come to think of it. I just hope Addy's up to this… no, I meant up for it. Not up to it, for it. And that's not a Freudian slip.
Author's Chapter Notes:
I'm sorry that my return from slacking isn't more dramatic, but... well. I'm wearing sleeves, put it that way. *lol*
Story Tags: Be the first to add a tag to this story
