Chapter Five
RYAN
“So, Oliver, how’s the PR coming along?” I ask, my tone laced with sarcasm.
Oliver’s face darkens as he brushes glitter from his desk, his frown hardening.
“In all honesty, Ryan? Better than you ever managed. For someone so quick to criticize the band’s budget, you didn’t hesitate to blow cash on a prank that destroyed equipment we actually need.
You just ruined a MacBook that doesn’t even belong to you. What the hell were you thinking?”
I lean back, stunned, as the silence thickens. Everyone’s watching, waiting for me to say something, but my mind’s blank.
Finally, I muster a reply, forcing my voice to stay steady. “It was a joke, Oliver. Don’t be so dramatic.”
Oliver’s gaze sharpens, his tone icy. “A joke? At whose expense? You think it’s funny to sabotage someone’s work? It’s one thing to throw a few jabs, but this? This was low, even for you.”
My fists clench involuntarily, heat rising in my chest. “Don’t act like she’s irreplaceable.”
Oliver doesn’t back down, his voice dropping to a steely whisper. “She’s proving to be better at this than you ever were. So maybe it’s not Tillie who’s replaceable doing PR, Ryan.”
His words hit like a slap.
Anger simmers under my skin as I glance around at the shocked expressions.
This isn’t over—not by a long shot.
If Oliver thinks she’s doing better than me, then he’s in for a rude awakening.
This means war!
I’m going to prove she’s shit at her job, and I’m going to push her out in the process!
It’s a win-win in my eyes.
I will devise a plan to put Tillie’s skills to the test. It’s low even for me, but I want to see how Tillie handles PR when push comes to shove.
The meeting continues, and all I can think about is how to execute my plan well enough that I get my old job back, and Tillie walking out the damn door.
Once everything wraps up, I walk out and head home for the day.
I step into my room and walk straight to my laptop and start typing up a bunch of information on myself, describing my medical information and spouting crap about how it’s forcing me to leave the band.
It’s a complete farce, of course, but with any luck, it will be effective, so I take my time to dot the I’s and cross the T’s, maintaining as much accuracy as possible.
With the last touches complete, I send the file to a reporter anonymously.
I know this is low, but let’s see how Tillie handles PR when it’s really hard to deal with.
***
On the drive to the office the next day, I’m grinning all the way. My smile is so big, my cheeks hurt. I know I am being childish, but they don’t call me the prankster for nothing.
By now, Tillie should be in full breakdown mode, and it sends a surge of warmth through me. I can’t help but think they should have never undermined me. This undoubtedly will be what finally gives her the push-out she deserves.
A certain amount of shit will have hit the proverbial fan by now, and I’d like to think she’s left the building already, not knowing how to handle this shitstorm I’ve created. But as I pull up to the office, the media are all pulling away.
I’m confused.
It should be a media circus—cameras and reporters everywhere, Tillie floundering, not knowing what to say—but instead, everyone’s leaving, and there’s nothing.
What the fuck?
I get out of my car and walk up to her as she says her final farewell to the last reporter. She’s smiling and looking calm and collected. Not the frazzled, crying mess I was expecting.
“What’s happening?” I ask.
“I told them all you’re working on your health.
You’ve started a fitness regime, and your diabetes is off the radar.
Your blood pressure is under control, and your fatty liver is being managed with diet, exercise, and no alcohol.
The band is behind you one hundred percent and helping you with your new lifestyle.
Oh, and every Wednesday, we’ll be posting progress reports on your achievements, including clips of you practicing yoga to center your energy and tone your body. ”
I scoff. “You what?”
“Your fans are signing up for a subscription called Recovery of Ryan. We already have two thousand people on board, Ryan, so we can’t let them down, can we?”
“Here you go, off on one of your tangents again, doing stuff without our permission.”
She shrugs. “The rest of the band said yes. So majority rules.”
“You’ve gotta be kidding me!”
Her lips curl into a smile, but there’s a sharpness in her eyes—a hint of sarcasm hidden behind the sweetness. “Nope. And seeing as it’s Wednesday, our first post is going live today when I take you to yoga and live stream it.”
“You can’t make me do this, Tillie!”
“No… I can’t, but like I said, we already have fans signing up to witness your transformation. You don’t want to disappoint your fans now, do you?”
“You’re a witch, Tillie Marks,” I state and storm past her.
“So, I have you under my spell then, Ryan?” She giggles.
“Not. Fucking. Likely!” I hoof it inside, leaving her giggling behind me.
This was supposed to test her skills, not backfire, and turn it around on me.
Fuck!
She is good.
Too damn good.
When I walk inside and head to the kitchen, I find Nate making coffee.
He looks at me and smirks. “Tillie certainly owned you.”
I huff. “Yeah, maybe she did this time. But don’t you worry, I’m gonna get her back. Just wait and see.”
Nate snorts. “Man, you two together are hilarious. A great source of entertainment. Keep it up. I’m loving the back and forth between you two.”
“Fuck off, Nate. Go find someone else to piss off.”
He frowns. “Wow! You’re so fucking grumpy. What’s got up your ass and died? What happened to the usual guy running around in his briefs, yelling and laughing at the world? Where’s that guy gone?” he asks, and I wonder the same thing.
“I don’t know, man… I don’t know.” I turn and walk out without a coffee and head to the place that always clears my mind—the fire escape.
Making my way to the rooftop eases my nerves.
Just by opening the door and letting the sun’s rays beam down on my face, I feel like I can breathe again. I’m so on edge lately, and I don’t know why. Yes, Tillie being here is annoying, but there’s more to it. I just don’t know what yet.
Strolling over to my usual bench seat, I plop myself down and stare out across the city below.
It’s strange that a bustling city can be calming.
The squeal of the door hinges disturbs my quiet, and I take a breath, wondering which one of my bandmates has come up to give me a pep talk this time.
It could even be Oliver, and I’m really not in the mood.
I want to be here alone, so I don’t bother turning to see who it is.
“It’s time to go to yoga.” Tillie’s voice startles me.
Out of everyone, I was least expecting her here. But I don’t have the willpower to argue right now, especially not in my space. I don’t want to ruin the harmony of this place, so I stand to face her and flare my nostrils. “Fine,” I say and stomp toward the exit.
She walks with me, but the heavy silence remains for the entire journey back inside, down the hall, and out to the car.
Tillie can push me around all she likes, but the least she can do is let me drive to the damn gym.
“I’m driving,” I state, and she raises her eyebrow, nodding as she tosses me the keys.
Stepping up to the driver’s door, I slide in as she glides into the passenger’s seat and closes the door. I must admit, I feel weird every time I get in a car, but I push it aside as I start the engine and slam it into reverse to head off to the gym, which is only about five minutes away.
Tension ripples through my body, into my fingers that clench harshly onto the steering wheel through the completely silent ride, so harshly that my knuckles turn white from my grip.
I don’t know what to say to her, and it seems she doesn’t know what to say either.
Our words remain unspoken, even as I pull up to the front of the gym.
We slide out of the car in unison, both shutting the doors with more force than necessary. After I lock her car, we traipse up to the door and walk inside.
An instructor leads us to a small room, informing us that Tillie booked a session just for us, so no one else will be in the room.
I look at her with a soft smile. I’m grateful for that.
Even though I know this is going to be seen all over the internet, I still don’t want people in the room watching me.
“So, guys, my name is Lara. I think it’s best if I start with Ryan first to test his flexibility, then, Tillie, you can join in,” the instructor announces.
“I’ll let you know before I live stream, Ryan,” Tillie informs, and I nod.
“Okay, so first things first, we’re going to stretch. Just follow my movements,” Lara directs.
I roll my eyes as Tillie giggles to herself, my cock twitching in my sweatpants, annoying me. I hate to admit the sound is actually kind of cute.
Swallowing hard, I try to discreetly adjust myself before following Lara’s lead, bending and stretching. My muscles are tense, but after a few stretches, the tension releases, and I find myself enjoying it.
“I’m going to start streaming now, Ryan,” Tillie announces.
I look at her and dip my chin in response, figuring I will enact my nefarious plan at just the right time.
She holds up her cell and starts live-streaming. “Day one of Ryan’s yoga class, and he’s doing great,” Tillie says as Lara tells me the next move is called the Downward Dog.
I smile, pressing my ass up high in the air, tensing my butt cheeks, and letting out a massive fart.
The sound resonates through the sparse room, bouncing off the walls and reverberating loudly with its harsh echo.
The room falls silent as I look up, expecting a horrified Tillie, but she’s smiling and bursts out laughing instead, tears glistening in her eyes.
Lara laughs, too, and I grunt as Tillie tries to control herself.