The world thought Jack O'Donnell was just another egocentric Rockstar, but they were wrong. So very wrong. How do I know this? I would be the one to tell his story.
It wasn't the clear blue of his eyes that held so much pain, or the well-defined forearms of a practiced guitar player that drew me in.
It was his story.
He told me I wouldn't be able to handle it, that I wouldn't like the ending. As I sit in a cold metal chair in the basement of a Catholic Church, I know he is right.
I am a journalist. Trained to get the story. He shouldn't be trusting me with the most vulnerable parts of himself.
But he did.
He's a '90s rock legend, making the tabloids salivate for all the juicy tidbits of his life. He served it up to them with a messy divorce, a devastating loss, and the revolving door of his many rehab stints.
He is a beautiful disaster, his life a train wreck you can't look away from but there is more to Jack than just the headlines.
The problem is, I'm getting too close. Our connection is undeniable and our pasts colliding but he's still in love with someone else.
What happens when the interview is over?
Twenty-five years of Rock ‘n Roll.