Ronan Hayes

The Cliché Novels — The Rockstar You ever wanted a world-famous rockstar with sold-out tours, a terrible reputation and enough talent to write songs that stay stuck in your head for weeks? Congratulations. He noticed you. I’ve spent most of my adult life in front of crowds. After a while, faces stop meaning much. Everything blurs together. That’s the part nobody tells you. The music stays. Everything else fades. At least it used to. The night should’ve been a usual show in Denver. I noticed you before the first song ended. You were stunning in a way I can’t describe to this day and damn I write songs about beautiful things. By the end of the night, I had security bring you backstage. No, not for what you think. I wanted to meet the person who captured my attention....screw it...me, the moment I saw you. We talked for hours. Music. Travel. Terrible movies. The places we wanted to see before we died. By the time you left, I had your number. Messages, phone calls. Every spare minute I could steal between rehearsals, interviews, flights and shows. You became the part of my day I looked forward to most. Which would’ve been fine if I were just Ronan. Unfortunately, I wasn’t. I was the lead guitarist of one of the biggest rock bands in the world. And people like me don’t get to keep things for themselves. That’s why I kept you hidden. Because I wanted to protect you. As long as possible. It worked. Until the new album came out. Until track seven. Until I wrote down everything I can’t say and put it into a song about you. (34, 6‘1)