Alex
There is no hell like the backstage area of the Grammys.
It’s chaos and bodies and noise. The air is thick with overly priced cologne and sweat and even though every other person is a celebrity, I’d much rather already be in the limo headed to a low-key after party.
It wouldn’t be such a tedious environment if Riah were by my side, but it turns out that after an artist wins an award and takes to the podium, they disappear afterward to be interviewed and photographed and generally adored.
Don’t get me wrong—I’m as ecstatic as anyone that Zyah won Best New Artist, and she deserves the adoration. I knew she had it in the bag, but she was so surprised when she won that I don’t think she heard a word I said after they announced her name. She seemed to be in genuine shock when she embraced me. Then she gave Claude a quick hug as well before she walked in a daze up to the stage to make her acceptance speech.
I haven’t seen her since.
Which is fine. It’s not my night. I am truly awed by her and incredibly happy about her win, and I really don’t need her to acknowledge our relationship publicly, but despite al that, I’m still a petty jealous asshole that envies every person who gets to celebrate this moment with her while I’m stuck in a crowded hallway, being pushed up against the wall to make room for Celine Dion to pass by with her entourage.
There are so many voices speaking at once, I almost miss the call of my name over the roar. “Alex!”
I lift up to peer over the heads of the people around me and spot Claude beckoning me. “Found her.”
A handful of seconds later, I’m trailing after Claude as he leads me to the post-win interview area. Billie Eilish is on the red carpet currently with her brother Finneas, an interpreter for the deaf off to the side repeating all the questions and answers in sign language. Just beyond him is the line of artists waiting for their turn to be interviewed, including Riah, clutching to her award like it’s a newborn kitten that might wriggle away.
I wave and do a little move hoping to get her attention, but she seems too in her head to notice me.
I, on the other hand, am too antsy to keep still so I pull out my phone and find her award speech has already been uploaded yet to YouTube. Sound down, I push play and read the captions because yes, I did just see it in person, but—she doesn’t need to know this—I’m going to be the boyfriend who watches it over and over until I have it memorized.
“Oh my goodness, I don’t remember how words work.” She’s shaking and flustered as she tries to center her thoughts. “First, I would like to extend my deepest gratitude to my manager, Claude, whose unwavering dedication and belief in me has brought me to this incredible moment. The team at Topaz, your passion for music and tireless work ethic has truly elevated every aspect of my career, and I am forever grateful for all that you do. To my sponsors at TekTech, thank you for your support and for helping me bring my music to a wider audience.
“Jake Dunham, your unique talent for capturing sound and producing music that resonates with the soul has been instrumental in shaping my sound and defining my artistry. I am honored to have had the opportunity to work with you and I look forward to creating more magic together in the future.
“Whitney, my dear sister, your unwavering love and encouragement have been my guiding light through this journey. Your belief in me has given me the strength to push boundaries and strive for excellence in everything that I do. Mama, although you are no longer with us, I feel your presence guiding me every step of the way. Your love continues to inspire me to reach for the stars and never give up on my dreams.
“And lastly, to the man who helped me find my true vision, you know who you are. Your wisdom, guidance, and insight have transformed me into the artist that stands before you today. Thank you for believing in me even when I struggled to believe in myself and for encouraging me to own my sexuality. This Grammy is as much yours as it is mine. Thank you all from the bottom of my heart. Let's continue making magic together in front of the world as well as behind closed doors.”
Admittedly, I replay the last part several times. Apparently, Hunter isn’t the only Sebastian with an ego because I’m feeling some deep ass pride right now.
When I look up to see how long before Riah’s turn, she finally spots me.
Actually, that’s downplaying what she really does, which is leave her spot in line, fly over to me, award in hand, and kiss me like we’ve been parted for months rather than just an hour. No complaints here, but it’s such a spectacle that even Billie Eilish pauses to ooh and awe about the gratuitous display of affection.
Needless to say, if the world hasn’t figured out the no-named man in Zyah’s speech wasn’t the man who came with her tonight, they know now.
“Well, fuck,” I say when she lets me up for air. The smattering of applause that follows is accompanied by flashing photography, and while I really did mean it when I said I was good with not claiming her publicly as mine, I’m absolutely here for her claiming me as hers. “Well, I guess that clears up some confusion.”
Her cheeks flush. “I could kiss someone else to unclear the confusion.”
“Uh, hard no.”
“I think my brand manager would want me to stay true to my overtly sexual brand.” She looks around the room and spots one of the Ryder brothers. “Nick looks available.”
My grasp around her tightens. “If you want to stay true to overtly sexual, I can fuck you in the corner, but like hell you’re kissing another man.”
She grins. “I think I need to do some interviews first. Raincheck for the after party?”
“Oh, I’ll fuck you at the after party all right.” Little does she know that I have a certain custom designed butt plug in my pocket since I knew we’d be spending the night celebrating.
But first, she has her audience to attend to.
“Go,” I tell her. “They’re waiting.”
She kisses me again then runs back to her place in line.
Later, wrapped in her arms, in the dark, we’ll claim each other in a way that no public declaration ever could. Completely and totally, she’ll belong to me.
Right now, though, she belongs to her fans.
I stand back and watch her shine.
A note about the music in Brutal Arrangement
Years ago, in what feels like another life, I was a songwriter. I started writing songs as soon as I could talk. By the time I was in high school, I had ambitions to be a recording artist and even attended the most prestigious songwriting school in the nation—-Berklee College of Music in Boston. On scholarship, no less.
Obviously, my life has gone in a different direction, as lives tend to go, but I do occasionally sit at my piano and write something these days. Some of the songs in Brutal Arrangement, in fact, were written specifically for this book, though those aren’t complete. Other songs, because I’m lazy, were grabbed from songs I’d written before. One such song is “Breaking”, the song Riah writes when she’s sad and heartbroken after Alex isn’t there after her show on the day her album releases. The real song doesn’t fit the situation at all nor does the style match what I envision Riah’s music to sound like, but I happen to have a recording of the song and thought I’d share.
Now this recording is old. It was one of my audition songs for Berklee. Back then, home studios were only for the rich, and so I had to book time in a professional studio to record, and I left with the finished song on a tape because that was the format that Berklee required at the time. The piano I played on was a Steinway and it was in a standalone garage that added a really haunted sound that I liked to the song, but all that does lead to a pretty “noisy” recording today. If you can stand the hum in the background, here’s “Breaking”, written and performed by yours truly. Enjoy!