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“Of course.”
Her eyes trail behind me to Liam, who’s now sitting at a table only one away from us. He glances at us then around the room in a routine of sorts.
“I’m sure Gia told you about my bodyguard. He’ll be with us the entire time. Like a little shadow,” I say. I raise my voice just a bit so that Liam can hear me. It’s petty, but I do it anyway.
“She did. And it’s no problem, would you like a drink? I think lemonade sounds good.”
“A lemonade would be nice,” I smile.
“I’ll get them,” Gia cuts in with a wink.
I turn my focus back to Tawny; her blue eyes are alight with excitement. She must be a fan. That makes me feel a little better. I’m also happy that she isn’t making eyes at Liam like Katelyn from Waves Magazine was last night. Not that I should care, but again, I’m showing no signs of rational thought since yesterday afternoon.
“So, Birdie, I’m so glad we’re finally getting to do this. The interview is going to be super straightforward; your publicist already gave me the rundown. I promise it will be painless. Just be yourself.”
“Great.” I relax a little. I’m happy that Gia told this woman what’s up. I don’t want another day to be ruined by this stupid stalker.
“First, I’d love to talk about your upbringing. Tell me a little bit about yourself.”
Immediately I feel Liam’s eyes on me. Even though it’s been a decade since we’ve been in the same place together, I still know exactly when he’s watching me. I guess he wants to know what I have to say. I take a sip of the cool and sugary lemonade that Gia just brought over, and let my tongue do the talking.
“I’m sure you’ve heard most of this before, but before I was born, my mom decided that her kid was going to be famous, and that she intuitively knew her baby was going to be a girl. When she was one month pregnant, she decided to name me Birdie Wilder. Thought it sounded like a famous name.”
Tawny laughs. “Really?”
“Yep, really.”
“It’s a great name. And your mom turned out to be right on all fronts.”
“That she did. Which she always likes to remind me of.”
“And when did you start singing?”
“Gosh, from the time I was maybe... two? My mom loves The Beatles, so I grew up singing a lot of their music, and of course I fell in love with Mama Cass’s voice too. I get compared to her a lot, but I don’t mind. She was a musical genius and an icon.”
Tawny raises a perfect eyebrow up at me. “Do you think that’s just because of your sound?”
I tense up. Is this chick for real? The air becomes thick, and I force a smile on my face. “If you want to say it’s because I’m fat, be a woman about it and say that.”
Gia gasps at my words, but I’m not in the mood to deal with fatphobic bullshit today. Or any day for that matter.
Tawny cheeks turn pink. “Oh man. I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean for it to come out that way.”
I tap my fingers on the bar methodically. “Mama Cass was a victim to the music industry and to society. She was a brilliant artist, and it’s a shame that people still focus on her looks and how she died instead of her talent.
“I fight every day to make sure that I’m remembered for my music and not as ‘that tall fat Grammy winner.’ I just hope that when I die, I’m not remembered for my body, but for what I gave to the world. I think most of my fans recognize my true value and worth, and I’m grateful for it. I’ve been blessed with success and notoriety, but make no mistake, I fight to be taken seriously every day. Even by reporters.”
Tawny is the same color as a strawberry, and I think she may want to cry. I was probably too harsh, but I had to say that. I can’t stand by and let people walk all over me, even if they don’t realize they’re doing it.
After a few heavy moments, she finally speaks, but I can tell she’s choosing her words carefully. “Again, I’m so sorry for how that came out. But thank you for sharing that experience with me. It’s not every day an artist gets so candid so quickly with me. I do appreciate it, and I will try to be better with my words.”
“Thanks. No hard feelings.” I give her a small smile because I can tell she’s genuinely embarrassed. I’m not sure her apology is meaningful, but at least she tried. Which is more than I can say for most people. Because it’s true, no matter how famous I am or how many Grammys I win, I still get put down for the way I look. If I had a penny for how many issues ofWorst Beach BodiesI’m on, I’d be richer than Oprah.
“Good. Next question?” she asks hopefully.
I nod. “Next question.”
fourteen
