Chapter One
Harley
What happens when the most successful boy band on the planet breaks up?
How about twenty thousand screaming fans yelling my name.
Only my name.
The atmosphere of a stadium show is indescribable. I’ve never gotten used to it. Not while in a group, and definitely not as the focus of everyone’s attention. No matter how much previous fame I had, no matter how many dollars line my pockets, and no matter how many Grammys I have on my mantel.
The awards wouldn’t mean shit if not for the people in this audience tonight.
Constant flashes go off from cell phone cameras, the people at the front try to push their way closer by pressing themselves against the barricades, and the whole stadium is buzzing with a high that’s more addictive than any drug.
The pulse of the crowd beats through my veins. I can taste it in the sweat on my top lip.
It’s the part of the set toward the end where I slow things down and have a chance to take it all in. I sing a slew of ballads from my backlog of mostly peppy, teenybopper songs.
I’m on my last show of a short tour, so I need to take a breath and savor it because it’ll be a while before I’m on the road again.
All the long hours in a recording studio, all the painstaking interviews and promotion for the tour, it all comes down to this. And the payoff is so worth it.
When I strike the opening chords on my acoustic guitar to my latest single “Confusion,” the crowd goes wild and Pride flags appear from all corners of the audience.
Since the track dropped as a surprise release six months ago, I’ve become somewhat of a queer icon. My label and public relations team have worked overtime for years trying to keep the truth of my orientation a secret, but with one song, speculation is everywhere. A simple google search will bring up countless articles and blogs questioning my sexuality.
Of course, releasing a song with the guy who broke my heart wasn’t exactly subtle, but whenever I’m asked about the meaning behind the song, I point them in Radioactive’s direction and to my ex, Jay, who cowrote this song. He’s already an out and proud artist.
I give nonanswers, making sure I stick to ally-focused vocabulary.
It’s the most freedom my label has allowed me. It’s not much, but as I stare out over the crowd and see the support and love they have for this song, my heart feels full knowing I’m doing something to contribute to the community. My community.
People have tweeted me when they’ve come out to their families and thanked me for inspiring them.
Pride fills my veins knowing the song has been received so well, and as I glance offstage to where my manager and assistant are standing, my heart sinks at the reminder they’re the only two people I have to share this moment with.
People I pay to be here.
I close my eyes and concentrate on the song when my voice cracks with an unintentional rasp.
You help me escape
A life I can’t lead
A life I need to hide
I swallow hard at the heartache attached to this song and at the empty spot next to my manager, Gideon. A spot I wish I could fill with someone who chooses to be there. Who wants to be there.
It’s something I’ve craved nearly my entire career. For a while, I had it.
And then I lost it.
Because I chose this life over one filled with love.
After the song, I finish the rest of the set with the kind of energy my fans deserve from me. It involves a lot of jumping, a lot of using as much of the stage as I can so each person in the audience can get a piece of me.
“Great show,” Gideon says as I finally leave the stage after my third encore.
As far as managers go, he’s a good one, but he’s extremely business oriented. He’s your stereotypical suit. Always immaculately dressed with his phone permanently attached to his hand.
“Uh-huh.”
My assistant hands me a towel to wipe the sweat from my head, and then I want to kiss her when she passes me a packet of M&M’s.
We walk through the halls of the arena to my dressing room so I can shower and change before doing VIP meet and greets with fans who have paid an insane amount of money to chat with me for three minutes and get a photo.
It’s hectic, but it’s my life.
And