Chapter 2
NOELLE
I bit my lip as all eyes at the table shifted to Conor, swiping his phone’s screen, a big grin claiming his face. Feeling the weight of our stares, he glanced up, the smile fading.
“I’m sorry. Did I miss something?” He held up his phone. “Just saw something the Bizzy Blondes posted.”
I clutched the edge of the table, my knuckles turning white. My strategy might impress Orlando and Dina, but it wouldn’t fly with Conor. Would it? The entertainment press would see right through this farce. Wouldn’t they?
Orlando sat back in his chair, his arms folded over his skinny bare chest, a satisfied smile on his face. Dina nudged my foot with the toe of her shoe and nodded. They liked it as I knew they would. Now they expected me to sell it to Conor.
I tapped my pen on my clipboard. “The road to Ashley’s redemption runs through you, Conor.”
“What?” Conor scratched the scruff on his chin. “What are you on about, Noelle?
I ran my index finger up the bridge of my nose, but I didn’t even have my glasses for cover. “We...I believe a showmance between you and Ashley would rehabilitate her image.”
Ashley clapped her hands. “I love it. What better pairing for the pop world’s newest sweetheart than with Five2’s squeakiest clean member?
No drugs. No boozing. No flings with every It Girl.
No punching the paps. No weird hibernation from the world in a farmhouse.
No tattoos. It’s perfect. It’s not like we haven’t played this game before, Conor. ”
Bingo. Their previous relationship was fake.
“I-I’m not sure how that would help, Ashley.” Conor ran a hand through his blond locks—a darker gold from what I remembered. “Maybe if you just put on a good show with no drama and treat everyone with kindness, you can win people over.”
“Aw, what’s the fun in that?” Ashley jumped from her chair and planted herself behind Conor, rubbing his shoulders.
“I think this is the way forward.” Orlando slipped his sunglasses from the top of his head to his face. “I mean how perfect is it for the co-headliners on a tour to be hooking up? We can all see the benefit in that. Good call, Noelle. I feel comfortable leaving this tour in your hands.”
Conor’s head jerked up at the term co-headliner. He’d gone from possibly third billing to co-headlining. The implication was clear.
The other implication was clear and in case I didn’t get it, Dina, beaming like a proud mother hen, was poking me again to bring me to my senses.
“Right.” I snapped my laptop closed. “This plan has legs. The fans will love it. PopWiz will go wild, and it’ll be Conley all over again. Isn’t that what the shippers called you two.”
I batted my lashes at Conor, mostly just to dissolve the tears that threatened to flood my eyeballs. Willing him to reject the ridiculous plan.
His pale Irish cheeks reddened, and he lifted his shoulders. “If you lot want to put that out there, I guess it’s okay with me. I’m not seeing anyone right now. Nobody will get hurt.”
Except me. Right now. I folded my hands in my lap so tightly, my fingers were in danger of breaking.
“Conley it is, bitches.” Ashley raised her arms in the air and gave a whoop. “Now that all the PR is done, let’s make some music. The band is getting restless.”
As Ashley made for the stage, Dina pulled me in for a quick hug and whispered, “You did good, babe. Orlando and Ashley loved it.”
“I just threw it out there because I knew Orlando would approve, but I didn’t really think Conor would go for it.”
Dina tilted her head as she hoisted her Birkin over her shoulder. “It sounds like you’re complaining. You did a good job selling it to him. He trusts you. And you got on Orlando’s good side. You got this, sweetie.”
I stuck my finger in my mouth to pretend-gag.
“I told you before, Noelle. This tour is make or break for you. You can’t be an assistant forever. You either move ahead...or you’re done.” She winked to soften the ultimatum.
Then she left—with me in charge.
Ashley belted out some warm-up vocals, and Ji-yoon rolled her eyes at me, as she retreated to one of the trailers with a cup of tea, her phone to her ear.
K-pop was no stranger to showmances, and Ji-yoon hadn’t seemed surprised by the shift in plans.
If she resented Conor jumping ahead of her to co-headliner, she didn’t show it.
She probably had an edict from her own manager—go along to get along.
“Do ya really think pairing me and Ashley is a good idea, Noelle?”
I spun around at the sound of Conor’s voice. I’d ached to be alone with him since he first walked onto the grounds, but now the prospect terrified me.
“Orlando seems to think it’ll work. We might as well give it a try.” I tucked an errant lock of hair behind my ear. “D-do you not like the idea?”
He tugged on his earlobe where he used to wear a gold ring. I always teased him that he wore the hoop in his ear to look badass, as unlike the other members of the group, he was afraid of needles and refused to get a tattoo.
“Does anyone ever like these kinds of games?”
I jerked my thumb over my shoulder where Ashley had gone from warming up, to some breathy rendition of one of her forgettable songs. “Ashley seemed hyped for it.”
“Ashley likes the drama, and she’ll do anything to get the good press now. She thought she could play the bad bitch, and people would still stream her music, give her awards, and invite her to all the cool places. But it didn’t work out that way.”
“And you?”
“Me?” He widened his baby blue eyes.
“Will you do anything to be a co-headliner instead of taking second billing?”
That’s one thing about my wild plan I didn’t regret. It boosted Conor’s profile on this tour.
Conor twisted the silver ring on his right middle finger.
I didn’t have to see it to know what it was.
All the Five2 members, except Conor, had gotten the Roman numeral LII tattooed on their bodies.
As a concession, Conor had gotten the number engraved on a ring, and he was still wearing that ring—and still twirling it when he got uncomfortable.
“I’ll go along with pretty much anything if it helps my career—I mean, nothing illegal. The lads and I have sort of been discussing a reunion tour, and I want to put myself in a good position to increase the likelihood of that happening.”
My mouth rounded into an O. “I haven’t seen any news about that. The Five2 fandom will go wild.”
“Shh.” He put his finger to his lips—and I flashed on how soft those lips felt against mine. “I don’t want to be the bad guy if it doesn’t come off. Jay hasn’t agreed to anything yet.”
“My lips are sealed, but my heart is racing.” I fanned myself with one hand.
He squinted at me. “You’re taking the piss, aren’t you, Nollaig.”
My heart raced even faster at the nickname he used to call me—the Irish word for Christmas—a play on Noelle.
“I am not. If I ever got the opportunity to work on the promo for that tour...” I kissed the tips of my fingers “...I’d be a made woman.”
Shoving a hand in his pocket, he said, “Still ambitious, I see. This tour will be good for your career.”
“Only if it works out well for Ashley.” I held up my finger with my newly manicured nail. “If it doesn’t, I’m toast. So, be a good boybander and play along.”
Was that a wobble in my voice? I placed my hand against my throat.
Conor ran his thumb along the scruff shadowing his jaw. “Are we good, Noelle?”
He heard the wobble.
“Good.” I shoved my non-existent glasses up the bridge of my nose. “Good. Yeah. Couldn’t be better. Great. You?”
“I mean...” he grabbed the back of his neck “...we ended things kind of suddenly.”
Suddenly? My longing for him lasted months, maybe even years. It didn’t feel sudden to me. Or was he referring to the way he cut me when Five2 headed to Australia for their first overseas tour? I never even got a g’day out of that one. Not one shrimp on the barbie.
Flipping my hair over one shoulder, I said, “You left for Australia and then New Zealand and then South America. Baker Street wouldn’t have assigned a junior member of the team, like I was, to any concerts outside of the UK. Talk about long distance.”
That didn’t explain why he never called or texted me...or why he never responded to my texts.
“I guess I figured we’d keep in touch, but you were busy with your career—and that other stuff.” He circled his hand in the air in a vague wave to encompass the other stuff.
I didn’t even know what he meant. My career? I’d been willing to give it all up for him. I’d approached Gordon Cooper, head of Baker Street, at the time and told him I wanted to follow Conor to Australia, knowing full well I’d have to give up my dream job to do it.
Once I’d made my intentions clear, everyone, including my father, did their best to dissuade me from trading my profession from PR assistant to groupie. Even Conor. How did he not remember that?
I cleared my throat. “It was a crazy time—for both of us.”
He shoved his hair from his face and emerged with a grin. “Glad that’s settled and out of the way. Now we can get down to the business of delivering a successful tour—for both of us.”
Settled and out of the way. I wish. I was more unsettled, and he was more in the way than ever. I swallowed. “Of course. Sure. Successful for everyone.”
“I’m going to look over some songs.” He rubbed his hands together. “Now that I’m co-headlining, I’m going to see if I can add a few to my set.”
“Good idea.” I laughed for no reason and thrust out my hand. “Looking forward to working with you...again.
Nothing could be further from the truth and when he grabbed my hand, that statement became an even bigger lie, as the warmth of his skin against mine and the callouses on his fingertips from playing his guitar almost brought me to my knees.
Realizing my mistake, I tried to tug my hand back, but he squeezed it, intensifying our connection. Did he feel it? One more pull, and I’d fall into him and never stop.