Chapter Thirty-Four – Jamie Vayne, Exposed?!
"What am I supposed to be looking at?" Hearst looked at the screen, his mind racing, as he tried to connect the dots. LiveFeed was doing some out of the box thinking by combining real-time footage with older segments to create a strange potpourri with no clear intentions. The occasional meme or sound effect only made their mashup appear more intriguing and, presumably, more entertaining for the watchers.
"They're going to destroy Jamie," Wen said with unhidden satisfaction. "I sniffed that out from the start. They're not good guys, and I love them."
Hearst continued to watch, the tension in his arms growing steadily. There was only so much he could do not to give in to the temptation to drop the phone and wrap his hands around Wen's neck instead. Why did his brother have it so bad for Jamie? An outsider would think that Wen acted like a jilted lover, but that was a ridiculous thought for anyone who knew the guy well enough. Wen didn't do relationships; Wen didn't do human interactions most of the time, except if it served him and some 'big' story he followed. Could it be that his brother had been more affected by their dad's failure in the business? If he were completely honest, over the years he had distanced himself more and more from the way his dad and his brother viewed things, as if the world was an enemy that needed to be destroyed in battle, their only weapons being pen and paper, the virtual kind, of course.
After college, he'd do something completely different. Although the allure of being all-powerful while typing at his keyboard with abandon had been overwhelming, Hearst simply knew that he had outgrown that phase a lot faster than his brother. Xpress was Wen's baby, and he had offered to be the babysitter, but the chick needed to leave the coop at some point. For him, that point had been reached, only he didn't know how to break it to his brother. Therefore, he was caught in a dilemma, forced to keep up with the charade until the year was over and he'd be free of any obligations toward his family, especially of this sort.
"Stop frowning. You don't get it? Are you telling me you don't get it?" Wen bounced in his seat with growing excitement. "They're exposing him!"
"What are you on about now?" Hearst pursed his lips in displeasure. "They're just putting together some weird cuts. They make no sense. And is this really live? I don't think Jamie would ever consider getting back together with that team of assholes."
His brother leaned back in his chair and stared at him with hooded eyes. On a regular basis, Wen was a mountain of suspicion, but now he appeared to be working overtime at it. The last thing Hearst wanted was his brother catching a whiff of his hidden plans to give up on Xpress and – maybe – pursuing something real with Jamie.
"Not only is he back together with them--" Wen started, leaning over the table and grinning like he had just learned he'd won the lottery.
"He's not. If he is, maybe it's only for this live session," he said. "They must have caught him in a tight spot and now they're taking advantage of his kindness and generosity."
"Kindness and generosity?" Wen guffawed like a silly kid. "I know for a fact that you don't take even an aspirin when your head hurts, so I can't suspect you of being high."
Maybe he was a bit high, but high on his infatuation with Jamie, not on anything unnatural. Still, he had been raised by a family that took pride in being tough on their children and teaching them how tough the world truly was. That meant that he was supposed to have a tough skin and see things for what they truly were. For all his faults, their dad had taught them an important lesson about journalism that somehow must have been lost on Wen: the truth mattered. Xpress was really the opposite of any pretense that truth was to be pursued at all costs. And his brother had created it and then passed it on to his younger brother. Not exactly. It looked like Wen was too much in love with his own creation to give up on it. At the same time, it served as a perfect shield from the real world and all its dangers.
"They are so going to wreck him," Wen said with delight. "Look, look, are you looking?"
"For fuck's sake, I'm right in front of you and staring at my phone." Hearst's frown deepened. The effects added to the parts when the camera focused on Jamie verged on the ridiculous. At first glance, they just looked funny, an added visuals to the way Jamie was hitting the drums, to make the content look more engaging. But they were starting to imply something else, stopping on a frame and zooming in to point something out.
He brought the phone closer to his eyes. Why were they doing that? It made no sense. Along with the meme sound effects to express disbelief and mocking laughter, they were pointing at something indeed.
Damn, he might need an aspirin for the headache he was getting. "This is bullshit," he said. "Why are they making it look as if Jamie really isn't playing?"
"Because they're exposing him!" Wen exclaimed. "What have I been telling you for the last half hour? You're really not paying attention. What, are you too absorbed by those inked arms? I bet a lot of people are. That's why he's so popular, not because he's some cool guy. He's not cool. He's a fake."
"No," Hearst insisted, "this is what's fake!" He pushed his phone into his brother's face. "Why are they doing this? Jamie is one hell of a drummer. I saw him play. I listened to him play. This is a disgusting piece of--"
"It's how you make someone pay for being too arrogant and thinking he's some bigshot when he's not," Wen spat venomously. "And why are you so sure Jamie even knows how to play the drums? And where did you see and listen to him, anyway?"
Hearst rolled his eyes, pretending that his brother had gotten everything wrong. "I've been following him around for quite some time, don't you remember? I watched him jamming at that club."
"Oh, yeah, with that chick who thinks she's some long forgotten mother of rock'n'roll," Wen said promptly. "Come on, let's watch Jamie's fall from fortune together. Don't you find it at least a little bit exciting? You're such a big bore."
"Isn't it exhausting to hate everyone?" Hearst asked. "I find this shit disgusting."
"You've written plenty of similar things in Xpress."
Well, touché. He couldn't deny that, and blaming it all on his brother's bad influence wasn't like him. After all, there was some darkness buried inside him too that sometimes took delight in poking fun at other people's misfortunes. However, he wanted to be a different man so he could have a chance with Jamie. A real chance.
"Yeah, but I wasn't spreading that kind of fake information to people who actually expect to see something real when watching reality TV."
Wen snorted with disdain. "Do you really think there are still bozos like that left in the world? No, no, no, my dear baby brother, the world doesn't work like that. We all suffer from compulsive schadenfreude. That is the world we're living in."
"But what's their reason for doing this? Why portray Jamie as if he's some fake drummer?"
Wen shrugged. "They don't like him. They want a certain someone to win – I mean, this is how these shows usually work – and they won't let any other competitors get in the way. It looks to me like Jamie's in the way. Oh, no, what a shame," he added, cupping one cheek and shaking his head like an old lady hearing about the woes of people she secretly hated.
"Wen, why does it seem to me that you knew about this stupid prank LiveFeed is pulling on Jamie beforehand?" He needed to end this meeting, and if his words made his brother consider cutting it short, that was all for the better.
"I didn't." Wen was a natural liar, so it was hard to know when he was telling the truth and when he wasn't. "But with shows like this, it's not difficult to realize the direction they take. It's just how these things work. I'm surprised you haven't realized it yet. And I thought you'd be interested in seeing Jamie from other people's perspective. He's not a guy you ought to admire."
Hearst felt his eyes open wide. "Are you kidding me? Are you jealous? What now? So, you're not my hero anymore. To be frank, I don't think you've ever been, not even when we were kids. I mean, I used to look up to Dad, because at least he had some principles, but you're a completely different thing." He got up and searched his pockets. He'd pay for his brother's meal, like he had so many times before. "Make sure you send me the new password. If you lock me out of Xpress's kitchen, I won't see you again. And you can kiss these pizza meetings goodbye." He didn't mind rubbing his brother's nose in the dirt a bit so that he understood his position in the world, after all.
"Are you threatening me?"
"You started things by changing the password. This blame game doesn't work on me anymore. Have a nice one," he said, pointing at the phone in Wen's hands. "It looks to me like you should stop watching these stupid shows and start touching grass. You need it."
"Stop being such a condescending prick." His brother fumed, but it was all for the good. He needed to get a little serving of truth so he would hopefully consider changing his ways.
"I can't. It's my nature," Hearst replied breezily. Acting like an asshole came naturally to him, and it was another thing he had learned by being raised by his family of fuckups.
***
Even jamming with assholes could be fun, Jamie realized, as he fell into the exciting rhythm set by the drums.
"Can you give us a solo, Jamie?" Mitch the Voice asked, uncharacteristic for him.
Jamie grinned. "Don't mind if I do," he replied while rolling the drumsticks on his fingers with practiced ease. He wasn't the sort to grab the spotlight as he believed that the power of good music involved other people, but since he was getting a direct invitation to present a show of virtuosity, he wouldn't say 'no'.
He had to remind himself that these reality TV people knew what they were doing. He had been suspicious of them for no reason. They were interested in creating an exciting show for those watching, and Jamie didn't want to get in the way. After all, he was playing his drums and having fun with the Mitches watching him, which meant that bygones were bygones and they could still continue to make music together.
Would they welcome him back if he asked them to? He didn't focus on that much, absorbed as he was by the thunderous symphony emerging from his hands. With one last stroke he finished his solo and smiled at the others. An unpleasant chill moved down his spine momentarily. The eyes looking back at him were blank and the occasional sneer boded nothing good. Had they expected him to screw up, seeing that they hadn't played together in a while? They knew he had a lot of discipline when it came to practicing, so their attitude was unfathomable.
Whatever. He wasn't going to jump the gun and ask if they still wanted to be a team; after all, those punches had been thrown, and no one could ever take them back. This had been just another chance for him to show the LiveFeed audience that he, Jamie Vayne, was, before everything else, a musician, not a gigolo who broke hearts left and right for want of anything better to do.
"How was it?" he asked, directing his question to Angus, seeing how the Mitches were now looking like a pack of hyenas, the way they grinned and showed all their teeth.
"Perfect," the producer replied. "We've taken enough of your day, I think. I'll take you back to your place, Jamie."
That seemed a bit abrupt but, supposedly, producers were busy people and most likely Angus had other places to be and other people to see. Jamie had no business lingering anyway, since the Mitches didn't seem very keen on the reconciling thing now their little jam session was finished. A free ride back to his place sounded like a much sweeter deal than trying to awkwardly repair things with his former bandmates.
***
"Don't look at your feed for now," Angus advised. "I know it's a bit overwhelming and it is exciting to see the number of likes going up, but it can be an unhealthy obsession. Chill for now and let's see where we should take your fame next."
"It looks to me like you have this thing down pat," Jamie said, putting his phone back into his jeans pocket. "I mean, I thought you guys were setting me up for a fight with my former bandmates. They played well, by the way. I hope they find a great drummer."
Angus laughed, gripping the wheel. Despite his usually carefree attitude, he seemed a nervous driver. It was a great thing that the car's manufacturer had planned for all the possibilities regarding the types of drivers that would get behind the wheel of their creations, because it looked like the vehicle could easily compensate for its owner's jerky movements, making for a relatively smooth ride despite the person behind the wheel.
"I suppose you're not thinking of getting back with them."
"I don't think so. I mean, it's clear that we still have our differences."
"Yeah, yeah, I've heard about that punch. So, didn't you feel tempted at all to come to blows with them again? At least a little?"
"Tempted?" Jamie laughed. "Okay, maybe I was. I mean, it's not nice to think like this, but sometimes a punch will solve a lot of issues. You know, break an old habit and all that."
"What old habit?" Angus seemed to have forgotten that he wanted to share some new strategies for making him into an even bigger sensation than he already was.
"I should have left that band a long time ago," Jamie confessed. "I mean, it was clear as day that they wanted another Mitch, and I wasn't one." He laughed again. "That thing is kind of silly, don't you think? All of them having the same name? But don't tell them I said that," he joked. "They're pretty serious about it."
"I see. Well, to each their own, right?"
"Are they going to be a part of the show from now on?" Jamie asked, cautiously testing the waters. He didn't need Angus to spring another meeting with the Mitches on him out of the blue. Playing together again had been pretty nice, but that was already water under the bridge.
"Oh, for goodness' sake, no," Angus denied right away. "We wanted to shake things up, get you out of your shell, Jamie."
"I think I live pretty much all of my waking hours outside my shell," Jamie said in turn. "Come on, what makes you think that I'm a closed-minded individual?"
"You're not that," Angus agreed as he navigated the traffic with the same sudden moves that made the car jolt from time to time and put its systems to the test. "But you're too comfortable, if you know what I mean. You always do the same things. Okay, I get it. You've done them plenty of times before, and they feel great. Like an old coat. But stars in the making don't wear the same clothes more than twice or thrice. Do you get what I'm saying, Jamie?"
"I guess." Jamie shrugged. If he were honest, he didn't dare guess anything about how the minds of these guys worked, because they seemed to belong to a different species entirely. Apparently, one that only thrived on reality TV and breathed that atmosphere as if it were the freshest air.
"You'll get used to it. You'll be famous, Jamie, and you'll get people talking. That's what the success of this kind of show depends on. Just keep that in mind. You don't have to worry about a thing while we're at the helm, guiding your career. I'm not saying that it's going to be smooth sailing, and we'll go through plenty of troubled waters, but in the end you'll thank us."
"You're talking about all the people on the show?" Jamie couldn't easily imagine himself being thankful to Fez and the camera guy.
Angus let out a snort. "No, of course not. Most of the people involved are nothing but grunts. They follow orders, and if they ever think they have a thought of their own, they'd better not. I mean, they are, let's say, terribly uninspired. I'm talking about me and Arthur. We're the real players, and don't you forget it, Jamie. We will take you high, high up the ladder. Ah, it looks like we're here. Get some rest and enjoy what's left of your day. Leave the numbers to us. They'll grow."
Jamie murmured his thanks as he got out. Just in time even, as Angus took off in a hurry, pushing the pedal to the metal and making his sports car roar. Would he like to have one of those one day? Anyone would want that, he told himself.
Although, as Melinda had told him, not everyone was after the same thing. Jamie saw nothing wrong with wanting to both make music and become a big star. After all, so far they aligned just fine.
TBC