Love Songs & Other Lies(17)
Jenn introduces us to our camera guys, Tad and Dave, and goes over the itinerary for the first week, telling the guys how they’ll have to tape at least one “confessional” interview each day, answering questions from production crew or her assistants, Kaley and Priya.
Ten minutes later, Jenn leaves us in the bus lounge.
Jenn gave us a lot of information, but all I have is questions. “So where are all the other girlfriends, if they’re allowed?”
Reese grunts in amusement. “Mine’s in storage.”
“There’s Jaclyn,” Logan says.
“Jaclyn’s in the band.”
Anders has gone back to lightly tapping his drum. “This is a music tour, Vee. Who wants to bring a girlfriend along?” Then he turns apologetic. “No offense.”
“I’m not a real girlfriend, you can’t offend me.” But he’s right. God, does this mean I’m on a bus with ten single guys? I look at Logan, still holding on to my arm. Nine. I let out a deep breath and force myself not to obsess over this. I should be relieved. “I’m not leaving.” And I think I’m telling myself, more than them.
*
The real madness starts in the afternoon, when the crew starts filing off of their bus. There are twelve full-time camera guys—two assigned to each bus—and all day they’ve been pulling the guys away to do interviews. When they aren’t getting ready for their first show, they’re talking into thin air, responding to questions and trying to act natural. They’re pretty much nailing it, except for one overly anxious drummer. Anders is the absolute worst at acting natural. He’s one of the biggest attention-whores I’ve ever met, but once he gets in front of a camera his body goes rigid. Every sentence that comes out of his mouth sounds like it’s been mixed in a blender. Maybe I’m not part of the actual publicity team, but I know I can fix this. He’s going to be my pet project; my pièce de résistance as an aspiring publicist.
CAM
It’s hard to breathe when the camera is pointed at me like a firing squad rifle.
“You all went to high school together, right?” Priya prompts me.
“Right, well, except—”
Priya cuts me off. “Don’t tell me”—she points to where Tad is standing beside her—“talk to the camera,” she says, for probably the nineteenth time. “And be sure to include the question in your answer.”
Like a freaking Miss America contestant. I nod. “Me, Logan, and Anders were in a high school band together.”
Priya is waving her hand, encouraging me to keep talking, but I don’t know what else to say.
“What do you think about Logan bringing his girlfriend on tour? Is that uncomfortable?”
“Why would it be uncomfortable?”
She points to the camera.
“It’s not weird at all that Vee’s on tour—Vee’s always been part of the band. We all love Vee.”
Priya turns to Tad. “Time?”
Tad looks at his screen and quickly replies, “7:42:06.”
Priya makes a note on her tablet.
“What’s the time for?”
Priya shrugs, “We just like to note places we may want to come back to for editing.” She smiles and continues. “So let’s talk about Logan. He said he’s fine with being considered co-frontmen. How do you feel about it?”
When the interview finally ends, it feels like I’ve been in the little makeshift room for an hour, but it’s been more like twenty minutes. Vee is waiting outside, and Priya waves her in as I leave.
VIRGINIA
They talk to the guys one-on-one, in pairs—as a group. Jenn didn’t make it seem like I would be in front of the cameras much, so when I’m included in the one-on-one interviews, it’s strange and unexpected. It’s even stranger when I start getting questions about being Logan’s girlfriend. Ugh. Girlfriend. Whenever I think the word, I cringe. Logan’s girlfriend—a title I once actively avoided. My interview is mostly about my involvement with the band. My experience as their high school manager, what I did during their time in LA, and when I met them. Specifically, when I met Logan, and how long we’ve been together. It feels like a slippery slope to lie, and the truth—we’ve been together one day—isn’t an option. I stick to the details of our friendship and don’t veer too far from the truth. Still, every time I hear that word—“girlfriend”—I get this ache in my gut. I may not have the courage to be an actual musician, but I’m not a glorified assistant anymore. I’ve been feeding Logan songs for the last year. In the fall, I’ll be interning at a PR firm in Chicago. That’s a huge deal for a sophomore. But for now, I’m nothing but an accessory standing in the wings again. A glorified groupie along for the ride. Maybe hopping on a bus based on a too-good-to-be-true job offer from Logan wasn’t my best choice ever. Who knew, right?
CAM
The cameras are a serious adjustment. At first, I notice them everywhere. They’re outside our bunks when we wake up, sitting in the lounge while we talk through new songs. It feels like they see everything. Like they are literally everywhere, even though there are only two cameras to follow all twelve of the people on our bus. There’s this one cameraman in particular—a tatted-up guy named Tad—who seems to be with our band constantly. The other cameraman hops between Caustic Underground and The Phillips. I can’t help but wonder what makes us so damn interesting. Then I remind myself that the coverage is good—it’s what we need. It’s weird to even think of us as a “we” again. In a lot of ways, we’re still all getting to know each other again. And now we need viewers to get to know us too.