The thing is, haters and trolls don’t matter, even if it seems like they do. Sales are the most important thing, and we’re still breaking records. While we still have that, the trolls can talk their shit, but we’re safe. I know that.
I exhale.
As long as we haven’t upset Geoff too much, we’ll survive this. His opinion is the one that really matters.
I run a hand through my hair, pushing it up and away from my forehead. It keeps falling over my eyes lately. I’d definitely cut it if I could. I read more comments, trying to find one positive one. Or one that is positive enough to drown out the dreck. Further down, there are actually a lot of fans standing up for Angel, but those seem a lot quieter than the haters for some reason. They shouldn’t be, though. They should matter just as much.
Ruben slides out of bed, and comes up to me. I minimize the browser.
He starts rubbing my shoulders. I hadn’t realized how tense they’d become. “What were you looking at?”
“Porn.”
“Fun, show me.”
I roll my eyes and load the page.
“Oh God, were you reading comments?”
“I can’t help it.”
“Zach.”
“I know.”
Angel bounces off the bed, and comes up to us. “What are they saying?”
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” asks Jon, then he pauses, having a moment of self-realization. “Am I always such a buzzkill?”
“Only most of the time,” says Angel. “We still love you.”
The four of us huddle around my computer, and scroll the feed, before Angel makes me click on #angelphanisoverparty, which is, unsurprisingly, extra toxic.
“This is wild,” says Angel. “Am I canceled?”
I’m actually so curious to find out how he feels about all this, but he isn’t giving it up. If anything, he’s grinning and his eyes have lit up. I’m not sure I trust this, though. Sometimes I feel like Angel is playing a character even when he’s not onstage. It’s just different from his Saturday role.
A knock sounds on the door.
We all scramble. Jon jumps onto the bed, and changes the channel on the TV. I focus on my frustratingly unaltered page with the “End of Everything” lyrics, and Angel pretends to look out the window. Ruben goes over to the door and casually opens it.
“What’s up?”
It’s Erin, and she surveys the room. We all look totally casual, though. Nothing to see here, folks!
“Phew,” she says. “I’m so glad you’re all here.”
“We’re in lockdown,” says Angel. “Where else could we be?”
I write down lockdown in my notebook. It’s a cool word. My heart is locked down by you?
“Knowing you, anywhere,” she says, smiling fondly as she sits down on the edge of the bed.
“So, what’s happening?” asks Jon, tucking his legs up. “Is Dad mad?”
“Yes, but more than that, he’s worried, we all are. Anything could’ve happened to you while you were out there.”
Everyone goes quiet.
“It’s my fault,” says Angel. “I can call myself out, I know I lost my shit for a minute there. Nobody else should be in trouble, they only came after me.”
“That’s good, but that’s not going to be enough.”
Ruben’s eyes narrow. He’s definitely a lot more skeptical than I am, which I’ve always liked about him. It means he’s a lot harder to mess with than I am, because I tend to accept things at face value. I can see his point now, though. I’m starting to think Geoff is actually beyond furious, but Erin is watering it down. Why would she do that, though?
“So, how much trouble am I in?” asks Angel. “Give it to me straight.”
“I won’t lie, it’s bad.”
“But hey, a little controversy never hurt anyone, right?” says Angel.
“Planned controversy is okay. This is a nightmare for Chorus. Everyone thinks that you hate being in the band.”
“I don’t though!”
“Doesn’t matter. What the public thinks is what is important. And they’re taking your video and running with it.”
“What can we do?” asks Jon.
“Just give us time to figure out how to spin it. And we’ve had to make a change to our security. It’s become obvious things with Keegan and Pauline had become too lax.”
“What do you mean, ‘had’？” asks Jon.
“They’ve been let go,” says Erin.