suffer broke Peter’s heart. He remembered his own hospitalization for appendicitis at age fourteen. He’d been terrified. He couldn’t imagine how scary it was for kids who were realy sick.
“Some kind of cancer. It doesn’t look good,” answered Waly. “Roger, anything you want to add?”
Roger, their trusty bodyguard, was tal and built like a giant oak. Whenever they were out and about he became a constant companion. Peter loved having him around. Roger served in Iraq for a while and didn’t want to settle into a regular job when he returned home. Working for Jamieson was anything but regular.
“Yeah, the crowds at Virgin Records are huge and the entry space is tight. We’re gonna have to make a fast in and out. No time for shout-outs or photos.” Roger stared at Adam. “And yes, that means you Adam.”
Adam loved to let the girls fawn over him, but it drove Peter nuts. Adam was so damned cute with his sily grins. He held the group up constantly with his friendly, banter and wilingness to pose for photos with every single fan. Roger constantly had to shoo the girls away. Probably the most difficult job on the tour.
Peter loved the fans for their enthusiasm and support, but that’s where it ended. There was a fine line with fans and he wasn’t interested in crossing it. It was impossible to connect with a girl who’d screamed your name moments before and then trembled with nervousness the whole time she talked to you. Or worse yet, cried. Touring wasn’t a normal way to meet and make friends. He wanted to meet someone the old-fashioned way, not under the guise of fame.
Peter thought of the girl, Libby. Meeting her felt normal. No crowds, no cameras, just two people hanging out. She looked so beautiful and relaxed sitting under a tree with her long blond hair blowing in the breeze. He loved that she didn’t know who Jamieson was. Even if she did, he wasn’t sure it would make any difference.
He wouldn’t mind seeing her again.
Waly interrupted Peter’s thoughts. “We’ve got a busy day, so let’s stay on task. That’s al I’ve got.” He snapped the binder closed.
# # #
After hours of hand-cramping signatures, a limo whisked the brothers, their publicist, manager and bodyguard to Madison Square Garden where the roadies finished their stage setup.
Including lasers and pyrotechnics, it took a crew of over thirty more than twelve hours to create the enormous stage and set.
The television crew from WABC was in place and ready to film. A half hour in hair and make up and the Jamieson brothers were ready as wel.
They sat in matching directors’ chairs and faced the interviewer, Andrea Jacobs. The attractive young redhead wore masterfuly applied thick makeup. She probably looked better without it.
Two cameras were set among the many lights. The news producer stood close by and began the countdown. “Five, four . . .” He signaled the last three counts by pointing his finger on each beat.
“This is Andrea Jacobs, reporting live from Madison Square Garden. Joining me today is the chart-topping teen sensation, Jamieson.”
Peter hated it when the press reduced their sound to a teenybopper boy band. The camera panned across each of the brothers and then back to include al three as a group.
“In a few short hours this arena wil overflow with thousands of teenagers and adults too! What is your secret to attracting such a diverse crowd?”
Peter lifted his microphone. “It’s realy the music. Our sound appeals to a wide audience.”
“No argument there,” Andrea responded. “Your latest single is climbing the charts at record speed. Last week it debuted at number seventeen and this week it’s at number five. Is it true you write your own music?”
“Actualy, Peter is the genius behind our music. Adam and I contribute, but Peter’s instincts are on the pulse of what’s great,” Garrett answered.
Despite Garrett’s many flaws, he always gave Peter credit for their song writing success. Peter appreciated it.
“That’s incredible for someone your age. You’ve written some amazing hits. How about Adam and Garrett? Do you have a specialty?”
“Adam is master on the guitar,” Peter offered. “His guitar licks are awesome, and he has a natural talent. Without him we would be a mediocre bar band.”
“And Garrett?” Andrea asked. She licked her puffed-up, gloss-covered lips as she eyed Garrett in a way that made Peter uncomfortable.
“I play bass guitar, drums and sax. In addition, I work on the business side of things too. We’ve been working a long