“Why would I judge you?”
“Are you kidding me?” He pauses, hesitating, as though what he has to say is hard for him. “People change when they find out I’m K. Taylor. They go crazy, especially once they realize I have money. I can’t risk telling someone I don’t trust who I am, out of fear that they might go to the papers and seek their own five minutes of fame. People think because they know my name and read made-up stories about me, that they know me. They don’t.” He grimaces, and his expression contorts into one of disgust. From up close, in the bright lights of his truck, I can see every line on his face. The tiredness. The frustration. “You have absolutely no idea what fame does to people or how far they’d go to get it. I’ve reached a point where I can’t trust anyone. It has nothing to do with you. I just can’t trust people. Too many have betrayed my trust and invaded my privacy. The only people I can trust are the ones I grew up with, and they are here in this town. My brothers. A few close friends. Sharon.”
That’s not a lot.
I’m sorry for him.
At last, I draw a deep breath and let it out slowly before I say, “You still could have tried me. I would have understood.”
“Yeah.” He cringes. “Except you hate Mile High, and you’re a journalist. That’s a great combination.”
“I don’t hate Mile High,” I protest weakly, ignoring the latter part.
“You said you did. Do you want me to reiterate your exact words?” He lets go off my arm. “You called us a boring, over the top, overrated, untalented bunch of idiots.”
I did?
I cringe at my choice of words. “I’m sorry. I might have said all of that, and I admit it’s horrible. The truth is, I think you have an amazing voice. I do. But I never really listened to any of your songs. My parents made me biased toward the music business and anything commercial. Toward music in general. But just because I’m not a fan doesn’t mean I hate the band. I just didn’t care to give you guys a try. That’s all. And I’ll be honest with you, just because you’re the lead singer doesn’t mean I’ll change my opinion about what the music industry stands for.” The words are out before I can stop them. I can feel the offense in the air, and I couldn’t blame him if he turned around and left without a look back.
I expect Kellan to unleash his annoyance with me, but he just laughs.
“I know, and I would never expect you to,” he says. “Look, it’s hard for me, too.”
I frown at his words. “What’s hard for you?”
“To like the business. To be excited about it. I hate my job.”
Unsure whether I’ve heard him right, I stare at him. “I don’t understand. I thought it was your dream. You and your brothers had a band.”
“There’s a difference between a hobby and doing it for fun, and a job, which basically forces you to sell your soul and kills any creativity,” Kellan says. “Now don’t get me wrong. I’m grateful for what I’ve accomplished, but this job, this lifestyle—” he shakes his head “—it didn’t turn out like I expected. I still enjoy making music. I love writing songs, but in the end, the label decides which songs are recorded. Most of them aren’t even mine.”
I remain quiet as he continues, “The pressure. The fame. The constant traveling. Being stuck on a tour bus. Not able to sing my own songs or play my own music. It gets to be too much. I kind of realized that being famous and under the wings of a huge record label isn’t how I envisioned my life. My own songs being buried just because they wouldn’t appeal to thirteen-year-old girls sucks.” He sighs. I sense more is coming, so I remain silent out of fear that pushing him to open up might have the opposite effect. “Look, there’s no denying that I love singing and playing the guitar, but I don’t want to do it professionally. Everything you saw up there, on that stage…that’s not me. Not the real me anyway. It never was. I just stumbled into it. Ask my brothers, and they’ll tell you how I was discovered.”
“How?” I ask softly.
“We used to play the weekend gig at the local bar. It was our way to connect with friends and family. Someone uploaded us on the Internet. One day, a scout saw us live, and he liked what he saw. The next thing I knew, I was offered the lead singer position in a band he was working on creating. I took him up on the offer, because—” he sighs again “—well, I was young, and vain, and yes, I wanted to be rich.”