Jon’s ready. “To see all our amazing fans. I’m super excited for our concert tonight. I’ve heard Vienna has some of the best music fans in the world.”
Elisa laughs, then turns to Zach for comment. He’s staring into the distance with a look of sheer panic on his face, and he doesn’t notice her indicating to him. Angel jumps in, though his voice is hard. “We don’t have very much time to do much of anything,” he says. Erin’s face clouds. Wrong answer. Angel notices her expression, and something in his posture changes. “We’re just focused on giving the best performances we can. But I’ve seen so many incredible things, I’m definitely planning on coming back to see Europe with more time.”
That’s better. Much more rehearsed. For a moment there it almost sounded like he had a negative opinion.
Now it’s my turn. “The Burgtheater,” I say, trying to keep my voice upbeat. “I’ve heard it’s spectacular, and I’ve always had a love for the history of theater.”
I don’t tell them that Erin approached me a few days ago to gently let me know we wouldn’t have time to see it after all.
I hadn’t really hoped for it too much, anyway.
Just a little bit, I guess.
* * *
“I’m gonna get David on their ass,” Erin rants from her spot on the minibus as we pull out of the parking lot. “Imagine the nerve…”
Zach is sitting across the aisle from me, both of us alone. Last week, Erin asked us to keep our distance better whenever people can see us, and the minibus definitely counts as public. Even now, we’re driving particularly slowly to avoid the writhing crowd of fans who have gathered at the gates outside, hoping to catch a glimpse of our faces through the tinted windows. The screaming and shouting is muted by metal and glass. I can only imagine what it must be like to stand among that crowd without walls up.
We roll through the automatic gates and it—somehow—grows even louder. I wave at the people who make eye contact with me, and they shriek with ecstasy. I’m hit with the familiar, conflicting feelings of gratitude and love for them and their support, mixed with the sense that if I stepped out of this vehicle they would rip me limb from limb to get close to me.
As individuals, they’re all wonderful to begin with, but there’s something awe-inspiring about them as a group. Banded together, they have more power than the four of us and our team ever could. That’s how they managed to raise us as high as they did, I guess. But the flipside is they also have the power to destroy us, if they choose to.
Once we get on the street and join the traffic of Vienna, Erin precariously walks down the aisle, swaying with the van’s movements, and stops before Zach and me. “You two okay?” she asks. “Zach, I know that caught you off guard.”
Zach’s wearing his too-cheerful smile, the one he turns on whenever he lies about being okay. And, as predicted: “It’s fine,” he says. “I get it.”
“It’s not, fine, actually,” Erin says. She strikes me as a motherly figure in this moment, full of concern and rage on Zach’s behalf. But there’s something off about it, something that’s niggling at me. The thing is, Erin isn’t a bad person. But she is a person who values her job more than anything. On the plus side, it means we couldn’t find a harder worker to be our tour manager. But on the other hand, it means that if she has to choose between us and what Chorus expects of her, she’ll pick Chorus.
I don’t know where her line in the sand is. What she wouldn’t do to us if Chorus asked her to.
It scares me to consider that maybe she doesn’t have one.
“We’ll be making ourselves perfectly clear moving forward,” she goes on. “No romance questions, no shipping questions, no questions about who’s closer to who. Period. Ever again.”
I cock my head. “Well, not never,” I say. “Right? Just until Russia’s over and we’re ready to announce? Right?”
Erin hesitates. I see her hesitate. Then she smiles. “Yes. Obviously, Ruben, we wouldn’t keep the block on once you’re ready to announce. But, Zach, there’s no rush there, okay? We want you to wait until you’re absolutely, completely ready to bring things to the public eye. It doesn’t matter how long it takes you, in the meantime, we’ll make sure you get your privacy.”
I glance at Zach, who looks wary. So, he caught that undertone, too? The sudden narrative that they’re keeping this a secret for Zach’s sake, so he can retain his privacy? When last week, they were keeping it a secret for the band’s sake, and for the sake of our safety?