Chapter Twenty-One

Willa

T wo weeks later, I'm in Los Angeles filming the last concert of this leg of the tour. It's going to be a concert movie that we'll be releasing to theaters, which is something I haven't experienced yet. I'm slightly nervous that on one will buy tickets, but I've been assured the outrageous amount of money the film company paid, and the cut of the proceeds I'm getting will be extremely worth it.

"Have a good show," my band leader, Tate, tells me as I pass him on my way to the stage.

"You too." He's been with me since I played my first tour—in fact, most of my band has. There are only been two members I've lost since my teen years. Those losses had hurt, but not as much as they would now.

I walk to the spot that allows me to get under the stage without any of the audience noticing. From here, I can come up in the middle, and it always seems to be a surprise to the crowd even though there's a ton of video footage of my concerts on social media.

My heart pounds as I listen to the music in my in-ear monitors, and the clicks that help me keep track of the beat. This used to bother me so much, but now I don't know where I'd be if I couldn't hear them. Lifting my head, I gaze at the crowd, smiling widely. "Oh, hello!" And then with ease, I move into the first song of the three-plus-hour set.

When it's over, my feet are aching, my face hurts from smiling and singing, my jaw is sore, and I'm a sweaty mess. But I'm happy. Happier than I've been in a long time. Security escorts me to a waiting SUV, helping me in before we take off.

"Do you wish you could do meet-and-greets again?" My PR liaison, Rose, asks, as she sits next to me. She isn't always on tour with me but tends to come to the first and last shows of a leg.

"Kind of, but in a way, no. I've gotten scared," I admit, resting my head against the back of the seat. "There''re too many times I've been threatened by a stalker, or when one has been in my house when I've come in. Back in the older days..." I sigh heavily, wishing for a little bit of the simplicity I used to have. "I was able to do things for fans, be in their presence. That stopped, and I felt awkward, or like I owed them something other than what I'd already given them."

"But you've already given them everything," Rose argues.

"I know." I wrap my arms around my waist. "There are times when I feel like I could retire and be happy. There are others when I think there's more I could give because everyone always wants more. I know it doesn't make sense, and nobody understands it but me."

"No, I do get it." Rose hands me a bottle of water from the SUV's mini fridge. "Everyone asks for more and more from anyone who's a creator. You give them what they've been wanting, and then they immediately decide it isn't enough. They want more, and if you don't give them more, it's your fault. I'm seeing it more than I ever have before."

"What do you think I should do?" I ask after opening the bottle and drinking down half its contents.

"I think you should give what you want. I know at some point you're going to want a family, whether that be with Blake, or with someone else."

Rose knows everything about my life, and I genuinely appreciate every thing she says, and any insight she has.

"You can't go on being this open forever, Willa. At some point, you're going to be happy with your personal life, and not want the public one as much. I think it's time we start getting your fans used to it." She jots down a few notes on her phone. "Do you want your children to be used to groups of fans appearing wherever they go?"

I think about the baby I almost had yet didn't have a chance to. She'd be almost four now. Chances are I might not even be on tour if the pregnancy had been viable, as I'd thrown all my grief into my last couple of albums. Them and my creative process were the only things that kept me sane, especially after Mercer and I broke up. "No, I wouldn't want them to be subjected to that. At least not until they were old enough to make that decision. Like, I'd be okay showing pictures of them, but getting stuck in a crowd, where they couldn't get out? I wouldn't be okay with that."

"Which is why we need to start pulling back slightly from your fans. It doesn't have to mean you go into hiding. You can live your life, but let others post the pictures. Let the media take control, and let them get the heat." Rose raises an eyebrow. "You can let them do all the work for you. Let your friends post the pictures, share the stories, and then let the media pick it up. Your fans can then stop having such a parasocial relationship with you. They'll stop looking for you to be so open in sharing your life. It'll work, and it may seem weird at first, but it's just like turning off your comments last year."

I remember turning off my comments. It had felt like such a slap in the face to my fans, but it was all starting to affect my mental health. I'd had to do something. I'd been backed into a corner and felt guilty no matter what I did. "You're right. I have to take this stand. Can I ask you another question?"

"I'm here to answer all of them, Willa." She laughs.

"If I want to go to a game to see Blake play, how much trouble would that cause?" I say it all in one breath, afraid of what she's going to say.

She chuckles on a groan. "I knew it was getting serious."

"I wouldn't say it's serious, serious, but tomorrow night is the last show of this leg of the tour. I have four months off after this. I want to watch him play, want to be the normal girlfriend who just goes to see her man. Ya know?" I pick at a loose thread on my costume.

"And what a man he is..."

"Stop!" I laugh. "I mean, he is hot, and when you get to know him in a personal way, he's even hotter. He's such a good guy, and does all those things you want the man in your life to do. I almost think I'm gonna be punked—he's too good to be true."

Rose reaches over, grabbing my hand. "That's normal. You've had shitty luck all the way around with men and relationships, but there are good ones out there. I promise."

"That's what Avery tells me all the time."

"Well, we all hope that Avery is gonna get her time with Kevin. I know I'm rooting for her." Rose runs a hand through her hair. "They're gonna be hot together, and if she can get him to take off that button-down shirt and wear something else? She's going to be our hero, won't she?"

I think about what Rose has just said before a laugh bubbles up from my chest into my throat. "You're so right. I don't think I've ever seen him in a T-shirt or a sweater of any kind. He lives in that button-down, and oh my God, when the sleeves get rolled up? He's about to get down to business."

We're giggling like schoolgirls, and it's the stress relief I've needed. "I'm headed home, and I think I'm going to go to this week's game. Is that okay?"

"Whatever you want to do is fine, Willa. You just have to keep me informed so that I can be prepared. There will be questions, there will be requests for statements, and I need to stay ahead of that. I will do whatever I need to do for you. You're one of my favorite clients, and I know I'm not supposed to play favorites, but here I am." She puts her hand over the top of mine, squeezing.

"Thanks. You know I don't let many people in. Hardly anyone knows what I do in my personal life, but you have a front-row seat, and you've never judged me." I look out the window as we head toward the airport. "I've had to fire more people than I wanted to because they did. Even as a teenager, they thought I should be something more, and better. You've never expected that of me. I appreciate that."

Rose rolls her head against the seat. "We're a team, Willa, and a team works together."

I breathe easily, thankful for the people I have in my life.