Chapter 3 #3
“You don’t get it.” Her drumming fingers replaced the pencil. “It’s my job to make sure all these promo events go smoothly. A late headliner...co-headliner isn’t smooth.”
“Nobody can put this on you, Noelle.” I held up my hand. “I’m a witness. You did everything you could. The co-headliner’s word should carry some weight.”
A smile hovered at the corner of her mouth. “Okay. I guess you’re right. Standing out here isn’t going to light a fire under Ashley—wherever she is—but assuring AM LA that we have everything under control might help the situation.”
“There you go.” I held the pencil out to her. “Let’s go see about those bagels.”
“I’ll leave the pastries to you. I’m going to have a talk with AM LA’s production team.”
I opened the door and ushered her in first. “Go get ‘em.”
Noelle waved toward a doorway as she continued down the hallway. “Green room in there. Knock yourself out.”
I slipped through the door, holding my breath. You never knew who you were going to encounter in the green room. As I entered, a young bloke with glasses, messy hair, and chocolate on his upper lip turned toward me.
“Oh, hey. I know you from Five2.” He wiped his hand on a napkin before extending it. “I’m Del Delaney.”
I shook Del’s hand, not knowing who the bloody hell he was despite his expectant grin.
I tapped my mouth. “You have a little...”
“Oh, God.” He clapped the napkin over his mouth. “These chocolate croissants are deadly.”
“That’s what I’m looking for, mate.” I rubbed my hands together as I descended on the food spread. I plucked a chocolate croissant from the tray and dropped it onto a plate.
A young blonde with a ponytail poked her head into the room. “Del, you’re up in a minute. Come with me.” She screwed up her mouth. “You have chocolate on your face.”
Del gave me a shrug and followed the blonde out of the room.
I settled in a chair facing the monitor with my croissant and watched Hayley introduce Del. Apparently, he’d made a million quid by the age of 21 playing the stock market and wrote a book about it.
Hell, I’d made a million quid by the age of 21 and could probably make several million more if I wrote a book about my time with Five2—but I valued my friendships too much to try.
Just as the segment ended, Ashley crashed through the door, a string of curses on her lips. “It’s not my fault, Noelle. My stylist fucked up. Brought me something I was not going to wear in a million years. Even you wouldn’t have worn it, Noelle.”
“Whatever.” Noelle rolled her eyes at me. “You both need to get to the stage door, and there’s been a change of plan. Due to Ashley’s...stylist, they changed the program from two performances to a joint one. You’ll be singing the duet you guys did a few years back.”
I nearly choked on my croissant. “By a few years back, do you mean four years ago?”
“I had to make amends. The crowd out front won’t care, and you’ll have time to mention your most recent album, Conor.” Noelle mouthed the word sorry to me.
Ashley snorted Diet Coke out her nose. “You mean the one that peaked at 63 on the charts?”
“It’s better than...”
Noelle shot me a pointed look, and I trailed off. That’s all this tour, and Noelle, needed—the co-headliners at each other’s throats—when we were supposed to be hot for each other.
I zipped my lip and dropped my half-eaten croissant on the plate. “Lead the way.”
On the way to the stage, we stopped at the studio. The show was on a commercial break, so we chatted with Hayley and Calvin, a former US footballer and Hayley’s co-host for the week.
Hayley flashed her famous dimples. “Perfect. We’ll do a quick intro to the performance, and then you two can go out there and tame the feral beast that is the Five2Go fandom.”
Ashley sent Haley a blistering look from beneath her half-mast eyelids. Ever the professional, Hayley made a smooth recovery. “And of course we have a strong contingent of A-Bens too. Haven’t heard this much screaming since Calvin whipped off his jersey and threw a football.”
Production herded us outside, and Hayley and Calvin took the stage first, while Ashley and I stayed out of sight.
I squinted at the stage and counted the musicians in place.
Didn’t seem like they had enough instruments to cover our duet, “Love Me Again.” I guess we could do a pared down version, although I didn’t have high hopes for Ashley's voice these days. She’d even admitted she had trouble hitting notes in the morning.
This was definitely morning.
Hayley introduced us, and she hadn’t been lying about the Five2 contingent. I’d recognize those screams anywhere.
Ashley flounced onto the stage first and whispered something to the band. Waving to the crowd, I followed her as the opening chords of our song blasted from the speakers.
I grabbed a mic and opened my mouth to sing the familiar lines of our duet—the only one of my songs outside of the group that hit number one—as Ashley kindly pointed out to me earlier.
My voice boomed from the stage, but I hadn’t sung one note. I’d been tricked into a lip-synching performance.
How the hell could Noelle have done me so dirty?