The Price of Fame
written by: Deryn Graham
The fans’ shrieks were reaching a crescendo as Jonty stepped out of the wings and onto the darkened stage. He took his position. The band was already plugged in and ready to strike up the first chord of his current number one hit single. The houselights went down and for a moment it was pitch black, and still, and he was totally invisible to anyone. Jonty wished for more moments like these. Instead, he summoned up the energy levels he would need to sustain him through the next 90 minutes.
The opening riff of the song threw the crowd into another wild frenzy, and Jonty felt the collective swoon of all the women present as he sashayed into the spotlight and grinning, shouted, “Hello, Houston!”
Jonty settled into the rhythm, literally and figuratively of the song, almost on auto-pilot as he repeated the same words and moves he’d performed for every concert over the last twelve months. He was nearing exhaustion and couldn’t believe there was a single person left in North America who hadn’t watched him live in one town or another. In the world, almost, but the Asian leg of the tour was still to come, then he’d have pretty much covered the globe.
The tour had moved over from Europe to the USA six months ago, and Jonty had left his friends and family behind, although one or another of them occasionally travelled across to spend a couple of days with him. The reality was that the pace and schedule were gruelling, and few people were cut out for this kind of life.
On top of everything, it was reported mid-way through a series of dates in Scandinavia that he’d broken up with his on again, off again girlfriend and mother of his child, and the media scrutiny was, and continued to be, intense. Now with the time difference, early evening sound checks, and concerts that left him physically and emotionally spent, it was hard to stay in contact on the phone, so they had drifted even further apart, unable to resolve their differences. Jonty missed her and the comfort and grounding their relationship gave him and hoped they would be able to fix things eventually.
His final concert of the USA tour was next – Madison Square Garden, and then he was on to the most gruelling leg of the tour in Japan and South Korea where fans really took things seriously, mobbing airports, hotels, and concert venues, never letting up. They were ably supported by the paparazzi who gained access where mere mortals feared to venture and so he was ready for his every move to be scrutinised and photographed and splashed on the front pages of magazines and websites all over the world. He’d been there before.
His set was coming to an end. There were no encores, or fake departures from the stage that just served to whip the crowds into further paroxysms of hysteria – once he was done closing with what had been his very first release, he could leg it as fast as he could to the waiting car and be whisked to his hotel. The days of hectic after parties were long over, Kate and the baby had seen to that, and these days he preferred to come down from the adrenaline high with a long shower and a cup of hot tea with lemon and honey. It was a long way from the heady days of the band.
Some of his former band mates were still rabble rousing around the world, gigging in small towns, trading on the name they had made for themselves singing together as naïve teenagers. Jonty’s was by far and away the most successful – and lucrative – solo career and although they all remained friends there was an undeniable tension that existed between them since they had broken up. Five years later and there was still talk of a get together – almost as much press coverage of purported reunions as there was about their respective love lives, whose successes were as disparate as their musical achievements as individual artists.
As his security detail hustled him into the limo that was sitting idling at the team entrance to the stadium, his personal assistant handed him his phone. There were thirty messages waiting from his agent, his mom, Kate, the record company, the tour manager, and one from each of the other four boy band members. It was strange that they each were sending him a text on the same night so, intrigued, he started with those.
“Jonty-boy!!!!” started the one from Joss. “You’re going great, bro! Me an’ the guys have a plan.” The message didn’t elaborate.
Jonty clicked open the next one from Abby. “Well jell, dude! Another no.1!!! Need some new backing singers in NYC? Me and the boys thought we cud accompany you. Like the old days!”
Jonty was beginning to get the drift and moved quickly to Lawrie’s message.
“Hey, my brother. How you keeping?” Lawrie was always the more measured of them all, thoughtful and kind and he never failed to inquire how Jonty was actually doing. As usual, his messages formed a long thread, each thought a text of its own.
“The boys and I are missing you.”
“We threw an impromptu jam session together last week – went well.”
“They’re thinking we should sing one track together in NY nxt wk when you’re at MSG.”
“No pressure.”
“Let me know.”
The last message was from Seb, blunt and to the point.
“Hey Jonty. The rest of us need a favour. Please won’t you give us a bit of stage time in NY- we can perform one song – your choice (but obvs we’re thinking It’s Me & You 4Ever). We need a kick start. The fans will love it and it’d mean a lot to us. Call me.”
Seb, the ringleader and spokesperson. Always the most eloquent, with the most to say, but Jonty respected that, as they had each carved out a role for themselves that set them apart as individuals. Jonty’s was the god given musical talent, melodies and lyrics penned by him, but with song credits shared between them. That was one of the reasons Jonty had wanted to leave the group, to take more control of his compositions and build his song catalogue as a singer/songwriter in his own right. He was fed up of enriching others.
He sighed and leaned back into the plush leather car seat, his eyes closed.
“All OK?” Daphne, his PA enquired, gently.
Jonty handed her the phone and she silently read each of the messages.
“What are you thinking?” she asked.
“They need me. Just one song. Can’t hurt, right?”
“If that’s what you want, I’ll get on to it first thing tomorrow. Sleep on it for tonight, though.”
Jonty sighed. He wasn’t sure he could handle the drama of the five of them back on stage together but he felt a debt of gratitude to the four boys with whom he had grown up in the limelight of fame. Fortune these days was his alone and the boys needed his help to get back on their feet. Maybe he could give them their glory days back, even if only fleetingly.
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:
Inspired (if that’s the right word) by the sad, premature death of One Direction’s Liam Payne in 2024, and the crazy schedule of Taylor Swift’s Eras tour, this story looks at the cost and price of fame and fortune and how they don’t necessarily bring happiness.
- The Price of Fame - April 30, 2025
- Thin is The New Thin - January 22, 2025
- Spotlight On Writers – Deryn Graham - January 11, 2025
