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“Colt, I say this with love, but you need to stop giving so much oxygen to what others want from you. What do you want? If you want to make music for the rest of your life and nothing else, then of course it’s enough. If you want to make the world a better place, you can do that too. You’re richer than god and you can make whatever you want happen.”
∞∞∞
Willy’s words followed me for weeks after, echoing in my mind as I crawled into bed at night and stared at the ceiling. However, while they may have been Willy’s words, they came back to me in a different voice.
I’m not sure when it started, but my moral compass always sounded like a certain husband of mine these days.
What do you want, Colt?
I wanted to be the type of person that Gray would have been proud to call his. With a little nudge from Dr. Vangari, I had begun to understand my own shortcomings. For so long I’d been clinging on to this victim mentality, certain that I didn’t need to change because Gray had wronged me. Coming to the realization that if I never accepted the things I might have done to contribute to his change of feelings, I’d forever be stuck like this:
Lonely. Angry. Bitter.
I’d spent so long wallowing in self-pity that I hadn’t even noticed the huge changes in my life. I’d become so privileged that I’d completely forgotten that I used to go to bed hungry every single night of my life. My younger self would be disgusted in me right now. I had the money and freedom to not only do what made me happy, I had the resources to really make a difference for other people.
It was time to grow up. Being a snarky bitch who cussed out anyone in their way may have been cute as a teenager, but now? Who would love this pampered diva I’d become with this constant “woe is me” attitude.
Certainly not the man I wish I still had.
∞∞∞
“Finally, I’ve scheduled your interview with GQ on Friday morning at nine,” Carl concluded droning on about my boring as batshit itinerary for the upcoming week.
I’d zoned out during his monologue—Carl’s tone dull enough to put a baby to sleep—but that last detail pulled my attention back to the present.
“No, no. I already told you. I’m busy on Friday.” I tried to keep my voice level despite being pissed. Because I hadn’t just told him. I’d reminded him several times already when he’d tried to change my plans anyway.
Taking a deep breath, I willed myself to calm down by reminding myself that I couldn’t fire Carl. Not yet, at least.
It turned out change was both terrifying and incredibly difficult to achieve. Willy may have overestimated my negotiation abilities. I’d taken his advice and informed the label executives my next album would be vastly different from the generic crap I’d churned out for the past few years. I wanted to say I laid out my terms and that was that. But in actual fact, Carl had played a huge part in bridging the gap and getting them to agree to a new contract I could live with.
I now had total creative freedom to produce the music I wanted and in return, I was their show pony to parade out at every conceivable function to sing their praises and line their pockets.
Hence the current grueling schedule, all part of the rebranded Colton Ray publicity tour. Like a good little puppet, I’d spent the last month drumming up anticipation for my upcoming album, even though as Willy pointed out, it was completely unnecessary. My fans would purchase anything I decided to put out into the world.
Carl sneered down his nose at me. “You don’t say no to GQ. You can reschedule your little dogooder event.”
God, I couldn’t wait for the day I had the balls to fire him. I smiled imagining the lovely eggplant shade his face would turn with indignation.
“You’re right. I’m not going to say no to them. You are. Because I already told you I’m unavailable Friday, and I told you long before you booked that interview. So either you fix it or I’ll find someone else who will,” I told him firmly, my heart rate increasing with nerves at finally standing up to him.
Ooh, yes. There it was! Carl’s complexion reddened to an unhealthy level and I tried my hardest to suppress my glee.
He leveled me with a glare that used to intimidate me and I realized I might be closer to being ready to stand on my own than I thought.
“My mistake,” he said tightly before turning on his heel and exiting my lounge room.
∞∞∞
The camera flashes alerted me to the fact that my efforts to sneak into the concert hall unnoticed were in vain. Not that my chances were great to begin with, with the solid wall of muscle surrounding me in all their hulking unsubtle glory.
I was already conflicted about being here tonight, the extra attention heightening my anxiety. But, then I remembered the awestruck responses I’d received from tonight’s winners, and I knew that I had to show up for them.
It had taken me a while to decide how I wanted to begin using my influence in a positive way. After all, something about throwing some money towards the less fortunate just seemed icky. The last thing I wanted was to be praised for doing the bare minimum, making it seem like I only wanted to boost my own profile.
But Willy’s words had come back to me time and time again. I had to stop caring what other people thought of me. Before becoming famous, I literally told people to go fuck themselves to their faces. When did I lose that inner confidence?
Because, in the end it didn’t matter what people thought. Regardless of what I did, they would speculate on my motives. I knew my reasons and that had to be good enough.
