Chapter 24 Keeley
Keeley
All of the color leaves Jane’s cheeks as she stares in shock at the screen.
I wish I could shield her from this, that we could hide away from the late-morning sun streaming through the curtains and banish the internet forever.
I wish there was something, anything I could do.
But if I hadn’t shown her what was on my phone, she would have discovered it through the hundreds of notifications flashing across her own where it lies face up, charging on the nightstand.
Even I can’t bear to look at what people are saying. This is all my fault.
I should have shut the curtains. God, at least they only caught a kiss. I can’t imagine what would have happened if…no, I won’t go there. It’s bad enough already.
I rise up and begin to pace the wood floor between her bed and the window. Because fortunately, this one has blinds.
“Damn it, I can’t believe I was this careless!” I say.
“It’s not your fault. They came to my house. Oh god.” Jane laughs weakly, but it turns into a sob as she drops the phone onto the luxurious white duvet. “I thought I was safe here.”
I race over to her, clutching her trembling hands. “You should be safe here. We’ll figure this out.”
“How?” she says weakly, gesturing at her rapidly buzzing phone. “Everyone knows.”
“No. It’s one video. We can explain away a kiss.” My mind reels as I try to come up with some explanation to make this right. No matter how much it hurts. “We can say it was an accident. Or—oh! Tell everyone I came on to you. Kissed you without asking.”
Jane gapes, a look of horror replacing the shock on her face. “Absolutely not. I’m not going to tell horrible lies about you. How could you possibly suggest that?”
I swallow back another round of tears. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Jane and I were just figuring out how to be happy. If she wanted to come out, she was supposed to be able to do that her own way, in her own time. The world wasn’t supposed to find out because of Ryan fucking Tate of all people.
That asshole has been targeting the band for years, and I want to fight him for doing this to Jane. The best of us. She doesn’t deserve to have her private life splashed all over the internet. Especially in the vilest fucking article I’ve ever read.
Ryan’s pieces are always salacious, but this one is just hurtful. Not just to Jane, but to me and Riker and even Valerie too. I’ve never felt so exposed in my life…and I dated a pop star for three years.
Usually I’m able to come up with some kind of plan, but I’m frozen. Like if I don’t move, maybe I won’t have to acknowledge this is actually happening, and that article will just disappear into obscurity.
For Jane’s sake, though, I need to get myself the fuck together.
A knock pounds on the front door. I’m still in my sleep clothes, a thin T-shirt and some of those gender-neutral boxers that at least give more coverage than regular underwear, but I don’t give a shit. I launch myself off the bed and down the stairs, nearly stumbling on the last step.
I yank the door open. “Go the fuck away!” I snap, uncaring of who it is. But when I see Caleb, Valerie, and Riker on the step, I burst into tears.
We’re not alone in this. Thank god.
Valerie wraps me in a tight hug as the others come inside and shut the door. She’s an entire head shorter than me, but her embrace is fierce, like maybe she can squeeze out all of the awful things that brought me to tears.
“It’s all because of me,” I gasp weakly, as Val rubs slow circles on my back.
“The fuck it is,” she whispers urgently.
She lets me cry for another minute, then pulls back, placing a hand on either side of my face.
“Keeley Cunningham, it is not your fault that this is happening. It’s that asshole at Gossip Daily.
We sacrifice so much to be in this business, and then vultures like him swoop in to pick off anything else they can take from us.
You did nothing wrong, and you don’t deserve what’s happening. Neither does Jane.”
“Thank you,” I say meekly, because of course Valerie gets it. Ryan Tate practically made a name for himself the day Gossip Daily posted leaked photos of her in nothing but her panties when she was only nineteen.
“What can I do? Punch Tate in the face? Go on a wild night out to distract the press from all this?” She looks me up and down. “Or I could just tell you your tits look amazing, because holy fuck I wish I looked like that without a bra on.”
I laugh a little, despite the gravity of the situation, and I know that’s exactly why she said it. “Keep your pants on, Valerie. I’m just as taken as you are.”
“Okay, but the first two were serious suggestions.” She leads me into the kitchen.
Riker has disappeared, probably to check on Jane, but Caleb is busying himself at her counter, firing up the Chemex and espresso machine in tandem.
There’s a Tupperware container of fresh muffins sitting on the counter too, no doubt baked by Riker in a fit of insomnia.
“We didn’t know what would help, but we figured breakfast was a good first step,” Caleb says.
I laugh, but it comes out half a sob. “Don’t you have to work today?” I ask.
He steps away from the food and coughs dramatically into his sleeve as Valerie takes over at the espresso machine. “I’m sick.”
“Wow. Very professional.”
He waves a dismissive hand, carefully measuring coffee out of Jane’s hand grinder and scooping it into the conical filter, then pouring water over it all from the steaming kettle. “This is more important.”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t go getting fired for me, Sloane.”
As the coffee begins to percolate, he steps over and squeezes my hand. “It’s fine. How’s Jane?”
Leaning against the cabinets, I shake my head. “I honestly don’t know. We slept late, and by the time we woke up it had already been all over the fucking internet for hours. We literally just saw it. I think she’s in shock.”
“Understandable,” Valerie says, pouring shots into a cup. “Nothing quite prepares you for this.”
She would know better than any of us, even if Ryan lost interest now that his favorite subject is boring and married and deliriously happy. Now, he’s turned his eyes to us. “God, I don’t even know what to do,” I say.
“Have you talked to Lacey or Wade?” Caleb asks quietly.
I blink, scrubbing a hand over my face. Of course, that’s the rational thing to do. Call your agent, figure out a PR angle. “I didn’t get that far yet,” I say, wincing a little at the admission.
“That’s okay. We can help,” Valerie says.
We sit in silence for a few minutes while Caleb finishes pouring the coffee, and Valerie makes up a few iced oat milk lattes using Jane’s extensive collection of Mason jars and reusable straws.
I accept one of the lattes from Valerie gratefully, but I don’t take more than a sip.
Vaguely, I recognize the pangs of morning hunger, but it’s hardly more than a passing thought.
The coffee alone sparks my anxiety into even higher alertness.
I can’t even imagine trying to hold down food right now.
Everything that’s happening is making me nauseated.
Finally, Jane makes her way down the stairs with Riker in tow.
When they get to the bottom, he wraps an arm around her shoulders and steers her into the kitchen.
My shoulders tense a little at the casual contact between them, but I try to remind myself this isn’t about me. These two have always been close.
And if he can give comfort to Jane on this awful day, it’s fine.
“Oh thank god, coffee,” Jane says meekly, accepting a mug from Caleb.
Caleb plants a platonic kiss on her forehead, and Jane sighs a little, leaning into his shoulder. Everything sucks, but I’m so grateful for the people in this room. Our family.
We’ll figure this out together.
“You okay?” Valerie asks, as Jane and Caleb part.
“Ask me again in a few hours. I’m still processing.” Jane shrugs. “I don’t even know how I want to handle it. Lacey is in back-to-back meetings all morning, but her assistant is working on cancelling as many as she can so we can debrief and figure out our options.”
“That’s good,” I say. “The agency will know what to do.”
Jane lets out a shaky breath, collapsing onto one of her barstools. “I’m honestly not sure that they will. What’s done is done.”
While the others eat, I let Valerie cajole me up the stairs to take a shower, as if she can somehow sense I need a minute alone to process everything.
By the time I’m out and towel-drying my hair, nothing can convince me I haven’t colossally fucked up Jane’s entire life.
I change into gray sweats and a hoodie before heading back downstairs, choosing comfort over anything remotely presentable.
Just as I reach the landing, there’s another knock on the door. Great.
“I’ll get it!” Riker calls, but I’m already pulling it open and gritting my teeth.
My vision goes red as I take in the person in the entryway. In her signature business-casual style, Mary Kate Hampton is wearing wide-legged navy trousers with an ivory silk shirt, her long brunette hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail.
Mary Kate has been a longtime friend of the Glitter Bats. She’s covered us from the start for Buzzword, a much less inflammatory—but still celebrity-focused—website. I like Mary Kate plenty, but the last thing I want to do is talk to the fucking press.
And how did she get Jane’s address?
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I snap, using my body to block the doorframe.
Mary Kate raises her hands in surrender. “I come in peace, Keeley.”
“That doesn’t answer my damn question,” I grit out.
“I invited her,” Riker says, over my shoulder.
I whirl around to glare daggers at him. “This isn’t a press day or even a fucking karaoke night, Riker! What the hell?”
I glance over to Jane, whose face has gone pale, but she nods. “It’s okay. Let her in.”
Clenching my jaw so hard it might crack my molars, I swing the door wide and dramatically gesture for Mary Kate to come inside.