Teddy Wayne - The Love Song of Jonny Valentine

On the hundredth level of Zenon, every character I met told me how the Emperor was on this level and was this invincible tyrant that no one could defeat. It was only a game, but it was sort of intimidating, the way they talked about it. I had a few hours until my start time, and if I didn’t play I’d get worried about if my father had made it and how I’d see him, which I still hadn’t figured out, since Jane was popping into my room every twenty minutes to make sure I had everything I needed, so I got into the Jonny Zone for Zenon. The Jonny Zenone, where you’re in a Zenon zone because you’re no one. I’d tell that one to Nadine for a Creative Stroke credit if she wasn’t already in Paris with her boyfriend.

Soon I’d worked my way through the level and up to the entrance to this dungeon where the narrator announced that the Emperor lived, which surprised me. First of all, I hadn’t found the level’s gem yet, but maybe the protocol was different since it was the last level, and second, I expected it to be a huge dungeon that takes days to find your way through, but it wasn’t. After you climbed down into the dungeon, there was a door right there, and when you walked a few feet in, the Emperor was in the middle of a room. He was just a normal-size soldier with a giant halberd in his hands and covered everywhere in armor. I couldn’t believe they’d make the Emperor this easy to get to. It’s funny how the tunnels under the Garden were more complicated than the final dungeon in Zenon.

But I soon figured out why. The second I ran up to the Emperor, he deflected my two-handed-sword attack, and with one swing from a halberd damaged me enough to depart the realm. I started over from my saved game and tried again, but the same thing happened. I tried casting spells, using invincibility potions, everything. He blocked my attacks or they didn’t affect him, my potions didn’t do anything, and he damaged me to zero percent with a single halberd stroke. Not everyone had a Major Vulnerability, but everyone had at least a Minor Vulnerability, except this guy. He was like Tyler Beats is as a performer, only Tyler does have a Minor Vulnerability, which is food and his metabolism, and also picking at his acne.

Before I could get too worked up about it, Walter knocked and told me 3 Days Dead was finishing up and it was time. I was sort of glad the Emperor was so tough, because it really did distract me, but once I remembered I had to give a show on live-stream to a ton of people, including maybe my father who I was somehow supposed to meet without Jane interfering, and if it wasn’t a ton of people then that was even worse, my stomach got queasy again and my legs shook like they were postcardio. Walter walked me to backstage, and he must have noticed, since before Jane came over, he said, “Who gives a fuck, right?”

Walter had a way of saying the opposite of what I was thinking and getting me to believe it. “Right,” I said.

Jane brought me over to Bill, who handed me the mike and had me do the last-minute microphone check. I was saying, “Microphone check one-two-one-two,” over and over as he fiddled with the sound device. Jane went to talk to the guy helping with the heart-shaped swing, like she did every show now. I quietly said into the mike, “Microphone check you like being my little slut.”

Bill jerked his head up, with his eyes narrow and wide at the same time. “What’s that?”

“Microphone check one-two-one-two.”

He stared at some equipment a couple seconds and chuckled and made some final adjustments and said I was all set. “Break a leg,” he added.

“If the swing messes up again, maybe I will,” I said, which was stupid, because he probably could screw the swing up if he wanted and make it look like an accident, but it wasn’t worth him getting sued and losing his job and ending up in jail and getting raped by adult predators who were more muscular than him. Maybe he didn’t leak Jane doing cocaine to the press, either. It was probably just some lower-tier staff. People will sell anyone out for money, whether they work for them or not.

I could tell the house lights dimmed as the countdown timer ticked to zero and I heard the announcer go, “Now, what you’ve all been waiting for—”

The crowd buzzed and the tech guys backstage were more worked up than usual since it was the Garden and it was going to be seen everywhere, and I bet even that asshole Bill was getting excited and wanted the show to go perfect.

“—on his last concert for his Valentine Days tour, singing tonight on the day of the year dedicated to love and romance, please welcome…”

“Go!” Bill said, like we’d practiced, and I ran out through the entrance.

“Jonny Valentine!” the announcer boomed, but I hardly heard it because my fans were already chanting my name and the piano of “Guys vs. Girls” was louder than usual since the audio engineers expected the ambient noise to be so high. It’s got a strong instrumental buildup, eight bars where the crowd gets more and more amped to hear my voice, and by the time I get to the first verse, they’re insane. Musical foreplay, Rog used to say. Stroke the crowd. It’s easier live, when you can dance and use your charisma, but the best songs find a way to drive the listener wild with anticipation in the studio version, too.

So I danced in place while waiting for the lyrical explosion, and sniffed the candy in the air mixing with that sweaty arena smell, and thought about the iconic concerts that were held here and now I was part of that, and felt the hot spotlights on just me that were saying, You’re the most talented singer and dancer in the world, everyone loves you, and I unleashed my instrument:

Girls and guys, burgers and fries

All gets ruined with a coupla lies

They couldn’t even hear me sing, I’m sure, but it didn’t matter. My blood was pumping hard and I was as excited as I was on my first tour, not the nervous excitement I normally get but the kind where you’re like, I can’t believe three years ago I was busking in the Central West End and now I’m singing at Madison Square Garden. A few things can still do that.

The same way I wanted Zack to somehow see me with that girl Dana, I wanted my father to be there to see this. Even if we didn’t meet, I hoped he saw what I’d become, and not just on the Internet, but in person.

When it was time for my banter interlude, they’d written me some stupid lines I really didn’t want to say, so instead I was like, “New York City! Will you be my valentine?” They all said yes, and I got down on one knee, like I was proposing to the crowd, and said, “I’m so in love with all of you, but it’ll break my heart if you’re not in love with me. Are you?” They hollered yes again, louder this time, so I said, “Then let me know… by sending an—”

I held out the mike and together we all went, “ ‘RSVP (To My Heart)’!”

A lot of times when I told girls I picked out in the crowd that I loved them, I’d get caught up in the moment and convince myself I did, but I never believed it when I told a whole stadium that I loved them. This time, I sort of did. Like, for a few seconds I had this crazy idea of what it would be like to be in love with twenty thousand people and have them love you, if we all lived together in this stadium and ate the vendor food inside it and wore the clothing merch and every night I’d sing to them and we’d all sleep out here wrapped up in Jonny Valentine beach blankets. We’d never have to leave the stadium.

I kept telling the crowd how I loved them during the interludes and that I’d dreamed about performing here since I was a little kid, which was a lie because I only heard about the Garden before my first national tour when Jane was trying to book it, and I almost told them about the fantasy of us all living there together, but I checked myself. Even my most rabid fans would probably be like, Um, Jonny, we can’t spend all our time with you, we have to go to school and see our families.