Ross Rockit is going to be a star again and all I can do is hang on tight.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Ross
“What’s it like being the frontman for Onyx Knight?” The journalist is a bald, middle-aged guy with two arm sleeves of tattoos and more piercings than I’ve seen on anyone in my entire life.
“I mean, how do you answer a question like that?” I ask with a smile. “This is the dream—everyone’s dream. And even though I’m just filling in, it would be silly to pretend like I’m not having the time of my life. The crowds they draw are some of the best, most devoted fans in the world, and I’m grateful they’ve been as understanding as they’ve been.”
“Rumor has it, Kingston is on the mend. What does that mean for you?”
I smile. “As much as I’ve loved my time helping him out, I also love my job as their tour manager. It’s not like it’s some kind of punishment to go back to that.”
“That being said, when can we expect a new Ross & the Rock-its album?” His grin is meant to be disarming but I just find it smarmy.
I tense, just a little, and manage not to smack the smirk off his face. “There has never been a plan for a new Rock-its album. If there’s any new music, it will be solo music by Ross Rockit. And that’s just something we’ve been batting around.”
“Why not have Onyx Knight be your back-up band?” he asks, laughing like he’s funny.
Once again, I have to bite back a snarky response and just laugh along with him. “I think the guys have more than enough to do without backing me. Know what I mean?”
I don’t remember journalists being this annoying twenty years ago.
Or maybe it’s just me.
I’m older and a lot crankier.
“Well, rumor also has it that you’ve met with Hart Records about this.” His voice drops conspiratorially, like I’m going to confide in him or something.
Fat chance, dickhead.
“You like rumors, huh, Eddie?” I give him a pointed stare. I’m polite but my tone indicates I’m not thrilled with this line of questioning. “Look, I’ve been talking to the people from Hart Records but I’m committed to finishing this tour with Onyx Knight. So right now, it’s all just theoretical.”
“But do you have music for a new album?” Eddie presses. “Like, if you made that decision?”
I smile. “That’s a conversation for another day. Thanks, man.” I turn and head out even though I essentially left him hanging. I don’t know why it annoys me so much when people ask about the idea of doing another album.
It would be amazing to put out another album, but I think it’s the idea of finding a new band that’s tripping me up. I don’t want to replace my friends, and I also don’t want to work with the equivalent of hired help. It feels disingenuous somehow, even though lots of solo artists do it.
I don’t want to work with anyone else, and I’m not sure why that is. Until I can figure it out, I can’t make a decision.
For some reason, it feels like everyone is pushing me to do the solo album, go on tour, dive headfirst into being a rockstar again.
And I’m starting to feel like I don’t want to.
“You look like a man carrying the weight of the world,” Kingston says to me as I grab a bottle of water. He’s close to coming back full-time so this might be one of my last nights singing in his stead.
It’s a bummer because this has been the most fun I’ve had since the accident. I knew it had to end but I’m not ready. Especially with Wynter leaving soon and me having to make a decision that’s got me twisted up in knots.
“I don’t know what to do,” I blurt without looking at him.
“What do you want?” he asks quietly. “Deep down in your heart of hearts, what do you really want? Take away all the bullshit, the money, everything else. In a perfect world, what does your heart want?”
I turn to him. “Can I be honest?”
“Absolutely.” There’s a faint smile playing on his lips, like he knows what’s coming.
“I want to be you.” I hold up my hands. “I’m not stupid. I know that’s not possible. Onyx Knight doesn’t need another singer, and you’re one of the best. I just don’t know if I can start over. I’m older, and things are?—”
