Part 3If Love Is a Lie

Clarity Entertainment was a titan in the industry, a behemoth of power, connections, and resources. It was the dream destination for countless musicians. But after three years of being crushed under its heel, how could I possibly stay?

I continued to pack up my lyric sheets and compositions.

Anna pleaded, “Jayce, you need to think this through. Once you leave Clarity, your stage name, your songs… they’re all gone. Are you really willing to give all that up?”

My hands froze. It was a question I had asked myself a thousand times during a thousand sleepless nights. I didn’t even dare to hum the melodies of the songs I had sung millions of times during the day. If my fingers so much as brushed against the piano keys and the intro began to play, I would break down completely.

The moment they became leverage to be used against me, they were no longer mine.

I walked out the door and didn’t look back. Anna ran after me, her voice laced with desperation. “Jayce, if Clarissa doesn’t give the green light, who in this industry will dare to sign you?”

I didn't turn around. There was nothing left there for me to look back on.

That night, my phone vibrated.

A message from Clarissa: [Have you made up your mind?]

I didn’t reply.

I became a blur of motion, a frantic spinning top whipping itself into exhaustion, running from one meeting to the next. I knew it would be hard. Even though three years had passed, no company in the country would risk signing an artist with my kind of baggage. Even without the active pressure from Clarity Entertainment, the hashtag #ZaynGetOutOfTheIndustry was still a permanent fixture on Twitter.

“Zayn, you’re still singing?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Evans, but this market is all about fan engagement. We’re just not willing to take the risk.”

“Jayce, we recognize your talent, but you have to understand, so many of our partners have ties to Clarity…”

As I walked out of the last agency, the heavens opened up. A torrential downpour blurred the world in front of me. I opened my umbrella, a lone black boat adrift in a storm, swept along with the tide of commuters at a busy intersection.

I knew starting over would be difficult. I just didn't realize it would be impossible.

To scrounge up a gig, I drank glass after glass with a wealthy producer, enduring her cloying hands on my shoulder, her brazen lips on my cheek. I drank until I was heaving over a toilet, the bitter taste of bile burning my throat.

“Don’t be an idiot. They’re just messing with you. Who would actually dare to use you now?” The producer’s assistant, her own makeup perfectly intact, glanced at my pathetic, slumped form in the mirror.

I hung my head, my hair a tangled mess, the world a blurry wreck. I don’t know what’s been wrong with me these past few years. The tears are always there, right behind my eyes, ready to fall the second I look down. I squeezed my eyes shut, but the hot, stinging tears pooled and overflowed, tracing desperate paths down to the hopeless ground.

The assistant, who I’d only just met, hesitated for a long moment before sighing, pinching her nose, and helping me to my feet.

“You should go,” she muttered. “If you stay any longer, it won’t just be about drinking.”

The next day, my name was a trending topic on Twitter.

SHOCKING! Former Pop Star Zayn Sings for His Supper at Private Party to Fund Comeback!

The video showed me standing before a crowd of drunk socialites, singing an a cappella version of my breakout hit, “Radiant Days,” at the producer's request. Everyone else’s face was blurred. Except for mine.

I knew what these women were about, their cruel little games. I could even see the sickening desire in some of their eyes. But I still stood up and sang. What if this was a chance?

I just hadn't expected that my leaving early would piss someone off enough to send the video to a gossip blog.

“So Zayn has officially become a rich cougar’s plaything?”

“Gotta say, though, his three-octave high notes are still unmatched.”

“Hate to admit it, but the person above is right.”

“Why is this jinx still trying to crawl back? Can’t he just stay buried with his dead career instead of coming out and disgusting everyone?”