Page 19 of Dedicated
Les:Porter’s spirit animal is Gollum. That’s all you need to know.
Chapter 15
“No.” The single word grated out of Evan’s mouth like it’d been wrenched with force from the infinitesimal spaces between his clenched teeth.
Silence followed. Painful, thick silence. If Evan’s anger was animated, it’d be something like a gryphon, a wide-jawed beast ready to swoop from its perch and attack me. A vein bulged threateningly in his forehead, and I was becoming seriously concerned for his health. If he stroked out, the nearest hospital was miles and miles away. “It’s bullshit for one, and it takes away from the music.”
More silence, and on the other end of the line, I imagined Levi was recalibrating, trying to figure out how to attack from a different angle.
After another beat, Levi spoke again. “Do you have your laptop nearby?”
“Yes,” I chimed in, sitting up in the bed. My head felt like a dam about to crack, but I pulled the computer back to me since Evan didn’t look like he was moving unless it was to reach through the phone and punch our publicist. And maybe me.
“Good, go log in to the back end of your website.”
I did as he asked, though Evan had to remind me of the password, which he grumbled, still seething. My hands trembled a little as I typed, something that didn’t go unnoticed by Evan. His gaze flickered up to me, not exactly condescending, but enough resignation in it that I felt about a foot tall. I needed hydration and food desperately. Vegas had sucked me dry. Or maybe it was the other way around. I probably looked like death.
“Look at your downloads and the hits.”
I wasn’t as savvy at web stuff and tracking as Evan was, but I found the graphs and went slack-jawed, turning the screen so Evan could see it. The frown stuck on his face like it’d been cemented there lessened by a couple of degrees as he looked over the data.
“I’m going to assume by the silence that you’re seeing the numbers like I am,” Levi said. “Guess what? It’s happening everywhere. On Spotify and iTunes, too. Everywhere.”
The download hits started spiking a half hour after the time stamp on the TMZ article and were steadily rising. It was similar to what happened on release days for us. In between albums, the hits would dwindle down and slow but shoot up again whenever we did an interview, posted a live show, or got picked up by the tabloids or something. But it was never anything like this.
I glanced over at Evan, trying to gauge his expression. Was he even a little impressed? It didn’t look like it. He bit the corner of his thumbnail and shook his head, looking like he wanted nothing more than to set the room on fire. I’d heard human combustion was possible but had always been a skeptic. Now I thought there might be something to it.
“It’s just a blip. It’ll pass and then come back again the next time we do an interview.”
“That’s the thing, Evan,” Levi said. “I’m looking at the spikes from all publicity over the last year and they’re declining.”
“But that’s also not unusual. Our fan base is still solid.”
“For now,” he agreed, although there was an ominous tinge to his voice. Then again, he was a publicist; exposure was his life.
“And once we put out the next album—”
“There’s no guarantee. If it’s like the last album, those numbers are going to drop further. And with it, possibly MGD’s interest in supporting you guys.”
Evan cocked his head. “That… is that a fucking threat?”
Levi exhaled a sigh. “No, it’s not a threat, it’s reality. I work for you, remember. So I’m telling it to you straight. Your numbers are going down. Your interviews are spacing further and further apart because there’s nothing to talk about. The last album is a dead horse, and no one’s even interested in picking up the stick anymore. You two have been profiled out the fucking wazoo, and there’s nothing else to say right now. But this? This is something to talk about. You’re not denying it happened, which means it’s not an outright lie, even if the part about the two of you being together is. But the response overall has been amazing in terms of sales. And overwhelmingly positive on other fronts, too. Look at your fan group on Facebook. Most of the response I’ve seen so far leads me to believe a majoritylovethe idea that you’re together.”
While he paused for a breath, I opened a new tab on the browser bar and clicked onto our Facebook fan page, blinking at the buzz of activity happening there. Someone had posted the story into the group and people were going crazy. Levi was right: most of it was positive. Lots of excited squeeing and heart emojis. There were a few naysayers, though.
“Look,” Levi started up again, “I’m not saying you have to go live andtalkabout it. I’m suggesting you just coast on it. Do nothing to discourage the rumors, maybe a few things to support it for a while. It’s not forever.”
Evan didn’t look at all convinced. He looked, if anything, dejected. Dejected and pissed off. The overarching theme was definitely still pissed off. He drummed his fingers in a silent, desperate tempo over the tops of his thighs, restless with energy and anxiety the way he sometimes got before a show when he was all twisted up in his head and just waiting for the outlet of his guitar and microphone to unleash into.
“We’re not the Kardashians,” he snapped.
“You’re right. They’d milk this shit all the way to the bank and premiere their next show to even higher ratings,” I pointed out.
Levi wisely stayed silent.
Evan pushed off the bed, sweeping the laptop up with him. “It’s a fucking farce, and my answer is still no.” He stormed from the room, leaving me holding his phone.
“You still there, Les?”