Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 112917 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112917 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
I’d had a pang of sympathy when I’d first read his story, as anyone would. Admiration, too, for what Zane had made of himself.
But that afternoon on the flight from LA to Toronto, listening to Kenji review what had to be millions of dollars in charity funds, I learned just how selfless and generous Zane Hendley was, and I…
I realized I didn’t just have a minor crush on Zee Barlow, the nice guy, killer performer, kick-ass singer, and hot single gay man who seemed to hook up with someone in every town he played.
I also genuinely liked and respected Zane Hendley.
Which was kind of a problem since I’d resolved to keep my professional distance and not allow any feelings to sway me whatsoever.
Hubris cackled, I told you so.
Zane was the kind of man who would pay to fix a backstage crew member’s flat tire when he overheard the guy couldn’t fix it till payday. Who’d stay up all night making sure his closest friends heard his voice first thing on their birthday. Who fell asleep every day listening to an animal facts podcast because his hairstylist’s brother produced it. Who’d stop halfway through a perfect take to encourage his drummer to take a call from his kid. And who asked me—me, the guy who was supposed to be worried about him—before every single concert if I had a comfortable place to sit while he performed.
Was it any wonder I wanted to be around him all the time, to soak up his presence, to protect him for reasons that had nothing to do with my job?
And Zane Hendley needed my protection.
The man bordered on too nice. Sometimes he was late taking the stage because he couldn’t walk away from someone whose feelings might be hurt if he ended a conversation abruptly, so I became the heavy, growling at him to get a move on before he disappointed his fans.
He also refused to be treated like the VIP he was. He insisted on rolling with any punches. He didn’t want his actions to negatively affect anyone, which meant he pretended to be fine when he wasn’t.
Hundred-degree fever and chills? He’d say he was fine to perform the final long set in Detroit.
Suspected sprained ankle after slipping down a wet ramp? He was fine to do that night’s choreography in Anaheim.
Giggling teenager tried to turn a selfie into a make-out session by kissing Zane’s cheek just before she snapped the pic? He was fine to keep the meet and greet going and even dubbed me Bear—a nickname that stuck and managed to hit me in the solar plexus every time he used it—when I snarled at the girl and confiscated her phone to delete the picture.
Learning that his grandmother needed an urgent heart cath procedure right before taking the stage in Munich? He was fine to do the show… but could someone please arrange a quick flight home to be with her before the Zurich show in four days?
No matter what obstacles landed in his path, Zee Barlo made sure to tell everyone on his team he was fine.
But over time, I began to see that Zane Hendley was not fine. Zane Hendley was bending over backwards to look out for everyone except himself. Zane Hendley was killing himself to make sure to be fine so that everyone else around him thrived. Zane Hendley was terrified of letting anyone down.
Zane Hendley was the walking definition of a person who set himself on fire to keep everyone around him warm.
And it began to make me angry. So angry, in fact, that I could no longer keep it to myself.
About six months after I started the job, hubris finally won.
I lost the ability to remain calm and professional with my principal.
We were in Tulsa, Oklahoma, for an appearance at a fundraiser to benefit the victims of recent tornadoes in the area. Zane was joining a group of five local bands as the concert headliner. Not only were the ticket and concession sales going to the cause, but the streaming rights would also produce significant income to help those families and communities devastated by the storms.
It was a last-minute idea pitched to him as we’d finished up a performance in Oklahoma City. He’d immediately insisted on helping any way he could, even though it meant scrambling to fit the event into his already crushing tour schedule.
Halfway from the airport to the concert venue, the SUV we were in was sideswiped on the interstate and sent careening into two other cars in the next lane. The accident happened so fast it was over before my brain caught up with what was happening.
I’d been through simulated vehicle attack training many times during my years with the royal guard, so I immediately went into response mode with my principal, checking his breathing and pulse.