Redemption Song (26 page)

“Listen, kid.” Bruce wrapped his arm around Ethan’s shoulders like a big brother, opened the door to the dressing room, and led him into the long deserted hall. “Your buddy Bruce here has your best interest at heart. I’ve told you that before.” Bruce’s voice was like butter, but Ethan had long ago learned how convincing Bruce could be when he truly wanted. “I wouldn’t tell you no if I didn’t care about you. You’re like the little brother I never had. Now take my advice and give up on this whole Jesus-freak bit and go back to how you used to be. I promise, things will be so much easier on you.”

Ethan sighed, giving up on convincing Bruce of anything. “Yeah, okay.”

Bruce ruffled the back of Ethan’s hair playfully. “That's my superstar. You just stick with ole’ Bruce and I’ll rock your world. Mark my words, Ethan Carter. You think you’re big now, you just wait and see what I can turn you into.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Ethan muttered it under his breath as Bruce led him around the corner. In the midst of the hall stood a group of Ethan’s tour crew, with Ted eyeing the halls up and down like a good bodyguard, and his mom wiping tears from beside him.

Bruce returned the glasses to his head, adjusted the collar on his shirt, and murmured in Ethan’s ear as they approached the group. “Okay, do your thing, Bible boy. We’ve got a show to put on.”

The concert was a complete success. Ethan, the band, the dancers, the stage crew, and the wardrobe crew flowed like a smooth running machine from one song to another, until finally, after all of the lights were down and the stadium roared with deafening screams from the satisfied fans, Ethan walked back out and delivered his encore performance.

Now, he stood backstage in the midst of a whooping victory celebration with his entire crew. Trays with elaborate fruit sculptures were being passed around the room. Some drank frosted bottles of Fugi water while others clinked together sparkling flutes of champagne. They’d done it. Seventy venues in eight months. The moment was bittersweet for everyone.

Ethan brushed aside a strand of sweaty hair, still fully decked out in his stage clothes, and took a deep breath. He glanced forward to find his mother pushing her way through the crowd. She approached him with a triumphant grin and embraced him in a tight hug.

“Congratulations, baby,” she said. “I’m so proud of you.”

Ethan smiled. “Thanks, mom. I love you.”

She put a hand to his cheek and held back tears. “I love you, too.”

“Superstar!” Their moment was interrupted as Bruce slid past two of the dancers who were jumping up and down and doing some sort of made-up handshake thing. “That was phenomenal, kid! Your best performance ever!”

Ethan plastered on a fake smile. “Thanks, Bruce.”

Bruce turned to his mother. “Sorry, mom, but I’m going to have to steal your kiddo for a minute. We’ve got a big time press conference to get to.”

Ethan gave his mom an apologetic shrug and turned to follow Bruce down one of the long underground corridors of the arena. Ted, as always, followed silently from behind. After a couple of right turns and one to the left, Bruce pulled Ethan through a doorway into a moderately sized banquet hall of sorts. A brightly lit stage, matching the color scheme of his tour, with a podium in the middle, was placed at one end of the room. In front of it were multiple rows of chairs that were completely occupied by one person after another either holding a pen and pad of paper or balancing a camera on their shoulder. As Bruce entered the room, cameras flashed like wild, lighting the room up like a strobe light. Ethan held back in the doorway with Ted, awaiting his introduction.

When Bruce reached the podium, he flashed a salesman like smile and went into an obviously rehearsed spill about how fulfilling it’d been to work with Ethan, how close they’d become over the past few months, and how much fun this tour had been. Blah blah blah. Now that Ethan’s rock star blindfold had been removed, he saw Bruce for what he really was. Just a young guy living the city life, trying to make as much money as he could off of anything and everything involving Ethan’s label. Bruce didn’t have Ethan’s best interest at heart. The only “best thing” Bruce wanted for Ethan was the thing that would be best for Bruce’s wallet. Ethan couldn’t believe it’d taken him so long to realize it. And as Bruce went on and on about the big plans that were being put into motion for Ethan’s upcoming year—the album, talk show appearances, clothing lines, and colognes—Ethan began to realize that his life would be one giant chess game in which he was just a pawn being shuffled around the board. He had no control of his life or his career. He would never be able to perform his own songs. He would never be able to call his own shots. He would never be able to make the decisions that he knew were right because those decisions would not be the ones that would yield the most money for the people that were controlling his success. This was it for him. This or nothing.

“So, ladies and gentlemen, we thank you for your time and now I am very proud to present to you . . . Ethan Carter!”

Bruce’s introduction snapped Ethan’s attention back to reality and he stepped hesitantly onto the stage. Bruce gave him a brotherly slap on the back, flashed one last grin to the cameras, and murmured near Ethan’s ear. “Drive it home, kid.”

Ethan approached the podium, and gave a slight wave. The cameras went wild. Ethan didn’t even realize it was possible for one camera to snap that many photos in a single second—and the room was full of them. After the buzz of photos finally settled and he raised a single hand to hush the onslaught of questions, the crowd slowly quieted and he chose his first reporter for inquiry.

From there he answered one question right after another. He told the media sharks where the ideas for his stage setup came from. He let them in on some behind the scenes stories that he thought were humorous. He talked about the hours his band and crew had spent in dance rehearsals and sound checks. He thanked his choreographers and dancers and wardrobe team, not to mention the lighting guys and stage crew. All in all, the conference went quite smoothly. But as he was wrapping up his time on stage, one final question was asked that silenced Ethan for the first time all night.

“Mr. Carter!” The young female reporter in the back had been jumping up and down throughout the entire interview trying desperately to get his attention. “Mr. Carter, back here please!”

Ethan pointed to her and the room fell silent . . . sort of. “Uh, yeah, you in the back,” he said.

“Yes, Mr. Carter, I just have one question. Word has it you were forced to postpone several shows in the midst of your tour. Can you give us a few more details on the cause for those postponements?”

Ethan’s stomach tightened and he opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out.

“I . . . I’m not quite sure I understand the question,” he said.

Truth be known, Ethan understood the question perfectly. Problem be known, Bruce had already told them a story and now they were checking to see if his would match up. Reporters never took a story that’s only skin deep. He should have known they’d press for more details about his sudden absence. And the second Ethan stalled the question the reporters knew they had him. The room went silent and all eyes focused on the audacious journalist in the back.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Carter. Maybe I should have explained myself more clearly. Reports were made that you suffered from a rather serious case of laryngitis. Can you give us some details of what that experience was like for you? Maybe even the name of the doctor you saw for treatment?”

“Right . . . laryngitis . . .”

Ethan’s mind reeled. He was stuck. He could go along with Bruce’s lie or he could fess up and let the world know that he’d messed up. Ethan stared blankly as the hungry eyes zoned in on him from every angle. He turned to where Bruce and Ted stood in the doorway. Bruce, eyes practically bugging out of his head, was pointing over and over again to his throat, signaling for Ethan to hurry up and elaborate some fake details toward the laryngitis story. Ethan ignored him and focused on Ted. Ted was a rock, but when he was sure Bruce wouldn’t notice, he offered a slight smile and a wink.

Ethan’s mind flashed instantly to the night on the deck of the ocean view cabin. The night Ted led them in such an awesome prayer. What was it he’d said regarding Ethan?

"Lord we pray you will be the central focus as we’re trying to figure out what kind of people we will choose to become. "

Ethan had never forgotten his words.

This was Ethan’s moment. This was his time to choose what he was to become. Was he going to be some little puppet on a string controlled by Hollywood idealism or would he choose to be his own person? Make his own decisions? Do only what he knew in his heart was the right thing to do?

His mind flashed to Alaina. Beautiful, strong-willed, stubborn, adorable Ali. Would he choose to trust God enough to not rely on lies to win his battles for him?

He knew what he had to do.

Ethan stood up a little taller, turned his focus back toward the gawking reporters, and took a deep breath.

“The truth is . . .” he began again. “The truth is that I never had laryngitis.” Ethan heard Bruce’s gasp over the sound of the fanatically clicking camera flashes. “The truth is that I got a little carried away with fame and made some bad decisions. I had to take a few weeks off to regain my focus and learn a few lessons.”

The buzz of questioning came all at once. Ethan went to quiet the reporters one last time in order to explain everything, but as they calmed, Bruce ran up on stage and practically pushed Ethan away from the microphone.

“I’m sorry everyone!” he called to the chaotic crowd, having difficulty pulling off the fake smile he’d previously flashed. “My boy here has had a long day and I’m afraid we’re going to have to call it a night!”

In that moment, Ethan realized that it was all or nothing. He wasn’t going to be able to keep one leg in Bruce’s world and one leg in his own. It was time to make a choice. A passage from Luke that he and his mom had read only that morning flashed into his memory. Jesus said that anyone who doesn’t give up everything he has for Him cannot be His disciple. Ethan had questioned himself while reading that passage. He’d wondered if he would ever be presented with that situation—if he would ever have to choose between living his dream or serving God. It seemed God wasn’t giving him much time to prepare an answer.

Ethan braced a foot and gave Bruce a little shove, taking back his position at the microphone. “Actually, before we wrap this up, I’ve got an announcement to make.” Ethan placed a hand over the microphone, muting his next words as he turned to Bruce, their faces only inches apart. “Bruce, I know who has my best interest at heart, and buddy, it’s not you.” With that he removed his hand and faced the reporters once more.

“I would like to announce that as of this moment, I am officially no longer a client of the Bruce McCloud Agency or any of its affiliates.”

A reporter in front screamed loudest. “Ethan Carter, what are you saying?!”

Ethan smiled the first real smile he’d felt since those long nights in Fairhope, and for possibly the first time in his entire life, he felt peace. He was being obedient. He wasn’t being a coward. He was being the person that he wanted to be, not the person that was chosen for him. “I’m saying . . . I quit.”

Once again, the chaotic room erupted in flashes and screamed questioning. Ethan didn’t bother to stick around. He turned toward Bruce, gave him a swift pat on the back, and said, “They’re all yours now. Drive it home, kid.”

Bruce’s mouth gaped open and Ethan exited the stage to rants of “You don’t know what you’ve done! I’ll ruin you!” and “You’ll regret this, you pompous little teenage . . . !”

Ethan dismissed Bruce’s temper tantrum and bolted for the door before the reporters could get it completely blocked, but he didn’t quite make it fast enough. The cameras and microphones closed in on all sides. Ethan jerked his head side to side, trying to find a way out, about to resort to dropping to his knees and crawling through legs to the door, when he felt a hand enclose around his arm. Before he could tell who it was, he was being drug toward the door. Once there, he was flung into the hallway, the door slamming shut behind him. The hand on his arm never released as Ethan was tugged down the hallway.

Finally having a moment to breathe, Ethan peered to his arm, noticing the ebony color of the hand of his rescuer.

“Ted!”

Ted released Ethan’s arm and Ethan continued to run after him down the hall. Reporters were exiting the banquet room now and running after them in pursuit of a fuller story. Ethan had to admit, he’d defiantly given them a lot to write about.

“Ted, what are you doing? You heard what I just did in there. You could lose your job for helping me!”

Ted smiled, his white teeth shining brightly as they continued to run. “I heard what you said. And that is precisely why I am helping, Mr. Carter. Anyone who shows as much guts as you just did deserves to be helped.”

Sounded good to Ethan. Anything to get him away from those cameras. “So where are we going?”

“I’ve got a secret car parked not far from here.” Ted grinned at Ethan’s glance of curiosity. “It never hurts to have a backup plan, Mr. Carter.”

Ethan caught his breath and let out a laugh. “Wow, you’re good.”

A loud bang resounded in the hall behind them as a few of the more persistent reporters found the latest door in which Ted and Ethan had bolted through.

“Uh . . . Ted . . .”

“Don’t worry! We’re here!” Ted raced Ethan down one last hall. There was a heavy metal door at the very end. When they reached it, Ted pushed the handle and busted them through to the outside. They were in an underground garage of sorts where only a few cars were parked. Ethan slammed the door completely shut behind him and ran after Ted toward a black Lincoln parked next to the lot exit.

“Where are we?” Ethan called out.

“Private parking deck,” Ted answered. “Security staff only.”

“Ted, you’re a genius!” They were about half way to the car when Ethan had a terrible thought. “What about my mom?! She doesn’t have any security with her. If the reporters find her, they’ll mob her with questions and she doesn’t even know what I did back there!”