This special occasion is a contest run by Prosper, the mega-conglomerate that owns a share of Galactic Records as well as a few dozen other companies. A magazine owned by a different subsidiary of Prosper ran a contest in which the winners would get to meet us, and in order to keep them happy, Geoff sent us.
Our bus pulls into the back lot of the theater. Two Chase guards climb out first, to check the area, and once they say it’s safe we all get out, and go into the backstage area of the theater. We’re led straight down the hallway, toward the stage.
Erin turns around, blocking our path.
“Hey, boys. Given our situation, we’re going to do this a little differently for group shots. Ruben, you’re going to stand next to Jon, and Zach, you’ll be next to Angel.”
Ah.
Our new formation.
It seems it’s extending even past the video.
“Okay,” says Ruben. “This is ridiculous. We can all see what you’re doing.”
“It’s just until Russia,” she says. “For your safety, we want to make sure word doesn’t get out until then.”
That sucks, but it does make sense.
Ruben crosses his arms, but doesn’t say anything. Erin spins, then leads us out onto a stage. In the seating area, a line has formed, made up of about fifty contest winners, mostly teenage girls and their parents. They’re fenced in by dozens of security guards, like they’re dangerous.
The screaming starts.
It’s almost deafening. Some of them start crying. A bunch of them have brought homemade signs, along with bags filled with things to give us that I know we won’t be able to keep. They must know it, too, but they still bring it. Maybe it’s because the thing that matters to them is the act of giving it to us. Or maybe they think their present will break through the slush, even though, honestly, it never does, which is another thing I feel guilty about.
The cameraman is already in position, so the four of us line up, in our new, freshly approved order, with Ruben and me standing as far apart as possible.
The first girl comes up onto the stage. She’s in all black, and her hair is clearly dyed raven-dark. Her mascara is thick, and she has leather bracelets on.
I would die for her.
“Hey,” she says, nodding at the others before coming right up to me. “Zach, I made you something.”
“Oh, that’s so nice! Thanks.”
She hands me a paper bag. I open the bag, pulling out a hand-stitched piece of art, with the lyrics from the chorus of “Fight Back,” my favorite song. I relate to every single line Randy Kehoe wrote for it. I answered an interview question years ago asking what my favorite lyrics are, and she’s clearly remembered.
“Oh my god,” I say. “I love this!”
“Really? I’m not the best at stitching, and it’s a bit wonky in the corner, I’m sorry.”
I clutch it to my chest. “Don’t be sorry, I love it, thank you.”
“Falling for Alice is my favorite band,” she says, before her eyes widen. “Besides you guys!”
I laugh. “They’re my favorite, too.”
Erin clears her throat.
“Sorry,” says the girl, and we line up for the photo. The camera flashes, and she leaves the stage. “It’s so nice to meet you!”
“It’s nice to meet you, too!”
I know I’m going to get scolded by Erin for what just happened. By giving this much time to her, I’ve set up a precedent that every other person in the meet and greet is going to expect that much attention. And we can’t have that, because we have a show tonight, and that means we need to be at the stadium in an hour. So people are going to be upset, and upset fans upset Chorus.
I get all of that. And making Erin mad at me is terrifying.
I’m just not sure I did anything wrong.
SEVENTEEN
RUBEN
“The next question we have for you boys is about romance within the band!”
As the word leaves our interviewer Elisa’s lips, time screeches to a halt. Beside her, her very-blond colleague, Moritz, tents his hands, apparently eager to see where this is going.
We’re at Array Magazine in Vienna, the four of us sitting in a row of single metal chairs, with Zach and I placed on opposite ends of the row, as per Erin’s instruction. While cameras are fixed on us for recording purposes, none of the footage is making it to the public eye, so until this moment our postures were relaxed. But now, I shoot up straight, feet planted on the floor and my hands on my knees. I see the others stiffen similarly in my peripherals.