Chapter 4
NOELLE
I covered my mouth as Conor’s pre-recorded voice surged over the crowd. Had the fans even noticed? I scanned the women pressing against the base of the stage, singing the words with Conor—when they weren’t screaming. They didn’t have a clue.
But Conor did.
When Ashley’s part chimed in, Conor moved to the music, waved to fans in the audience, and even smiled...but he was wearing his fake smile. His blue eyes were shooting sparks, laser bolts, actually—and a few of those landed on me.
He couldn’t possibly believe I had anything to do with this. Except you’re the PR rep, Noelle.
Because of Ashley’s tardiness, production told me they’d have to cut the solo songs and go with the duet, but nobody told me they’d be piping in the music instead of going live.
I nudged Hayley, interrupting her fangirl moment, and cupped my hand around my mouth. “I thought this was a live event.”
Shrugging, she said, “That’s up to production. Not my role.”
She ended the sentence on a scream, as the music slowed and Conor and Ashley drew close to mouth the final lines of the song, gazing into each other’s eyes. Was I the only one who saw the murderous glint in Conor’s?
The song ended, and Conor backed away from Ashley as if she had a communicable disease and just spit on him. Hardly the vibe of the reunited couple.
He waved to the crowd, pointed to a couple of lucky girls, and flashed five fingers and then two fingers in the Five2Go sign. Predictably, the audience went wild.
The gesture sidelined Ashley, whose own smile morphed into a rictus grin, as she crossed her arms and gave Conor a death stare. Didn’t matter. Nobody was paying any attention to Ashley Bennett—and that meant trouble.
Hayley and Calvin bounded to the stage, and the lights indicated the show had gone to commercial break. Hayley approached Ashley, but the popstar wasn’t having it. She swept off the stage.
Hayley pivoted to Conor, but with a final wave to his fans, he followed Ashley, hopping off the last step.
With a shrug to Hayley, I scurried after my charges like a mother hen chasing her chicks—angry chicks. Before I even got to the green room, I heard their raised voices echo down the hallway.
I burst into the room to find the two of them jabbing fingers at each other. Then the fingers turned to me, as did their ire.
“You set me up.” Conor’s eyes blazed like blue fire. “You knew I’d never agree to this gig if I had any idea I’d be stuck lip-synching.”
I raised my hands and waved them in front of my face. “I swear. The lip synching was last minute. The way AM LA presented it to me was each of you performing one of your solos live. They had to change because...”
I didn’t want to attack my own client, but the second Ashley didn’t show up on time, the show had to revise everything.
Conor ran a hand through his hair. “Because Ashley was late. Is this the level of professionalism I can expect from you on this tour?”
“Me?” Ashley patted her ample chest. “You out there reliving your boyband days is hardly pro behavior. Is that all you got, Flynn?”
“No. I have a voice that still works, and I want to use it. I saw you whispering to the band and that producer.” Conor smacked his forehead with the heel of his hand.
“You requested it, didn’t you? You never had any intention of singing live, so you sabotaged me when the show switched to the duet.
That’s probably why you swanned in here late. ”
I cleared my throat. The tour hadn’t even started yet, and they were clawing at each other. Was this an enemies-to-lovers thing? Was this renewed passion masquerading as hate?
“Talk about sabotage. Do not re-visit your glory days on my back.” Ashley tossed her head. “If I hear Five2Go one more time, I’m gonna hurl.”
Conor snorted. “Do it. Nobody would be able to distinguish it from your singing.”
Ah, no. This was hate masquerading as hate.
“Time out.” I crossed my arms at the wrists like a referee—felt like one minus the striped shirt. “Nobody is sabotaging anyone here.”
They both swiveled back to me, and I used my clipboard to deflect their anger coming at me in waves.
“How does it feel to have the first kick-off event end in a shitshow, Noelle?” Ashley adjusted her boobs and grabbed her bag. “I’m outta here. I need to report back to Orlando.”
She brushed past me on her way to the door, her threat hanging in the air, and all I did was open my mouth in a silent scream. Dina never would’ve let her leave like that, especially because a report to Orlando meant a blackmark next to my name.
I sank to the arm of the loveseat, and Conor materialized beside me, putting his hand on my shoulder.
“It wasn’t that bad. I don’t think anyone in the audience even realized we weren’t singing live, and Hayley and Calvin didn’t have much time to interview us, anyway.
Would’ve only been a few words.” When I didn’t respond, he squeezed my shoulder.
“Hey, the fans went crazy. I think that’s a good launch for the tour. ”
I shrugged his hand off me. “Maybe the whole thing could’ve been salvaged if you hadn’t stolen the spotlight from Ashley with your Five2...antics.”
“Antics?” He threw his hands in the air. “After being forced to mouth my own words to a song I co-wrote, I had to reclaim my...”
“Dignity?” I pushed up from the arm of the loveseat and paced to the door Ashley had slammed behind her.
“You talk about professionalism—it would’ve been more professional of you not to throw your popularity in Ashley’s face.
You two are supposed to be rekindling your romance on this tour, generating some buzz. ”
“You don’t think the music is enough to create excitement?”
“No.” I leaned in and picked an imaginary speck of lint from his sleeve to soften the negative. “I think the music plus the illusion of unresolved sexual tension are enough to create excitement. Right now, the only unresolved tension between the two of you is who’s gonna lunge first.”
Conor opened his mouth.
I pointed my clipboard at him. “Don’t. I’m not Ashley. I didn’t do you wrong.”
He quirked an eyebrow at me that made the breath hitch in my throat. Did he really believe I set him up with that lip sync fiasco...or did that accusation go deeper?
“You’ve been in this business long enough to understand it’s not always about the music. Everyone knows you have the voice and the talent to sing live.”
“Everyone? Really?” He ran a hand across the scruff on his chin. “You must’ve forgotten that show where production turned down my mic. You were there. You...helped me through it.”
I wanted to bash my own clipboard over my head. Of course, Conor would be sensitive about lip synching. I did remember that night. I remember holding him in my arms. I remember his soft lips against mine and our salty kisses.
“You didn’t have the confidence and experience back then.
Management had something to prove with a boyband manufactured from a TV show, and Ian and Jay were the sure bets.
But you found your place in Five2. You got your solos.
You had your Conor stans. And you established yourself with your solo career. You have nothing to prove, Conor.”
He did a slow clap in front of my face, and I jerked each time his hands met. “You’ve gotten good at this job. You really know how to manage the talent—puff us up, stroke our egos.”
I blinked. Stroke?
“Y-you don’t need any of that, Conor. I just wanted to let you know that I hear you. I understand why you maybe overreacted a little out there. That I remember...”
He huffed out a laugh, breaking the mood. “That wasn’t an overreaction. If I’d kept my mouth closed during my parts of the song or had walked off the stage before it was over—that would’ve been an overreaction.”
“I’m glad you didn’t do that.” I wrung my hands. “You understand what’s at stake here. The driving force behind this summer tour is the story. Former lovers. Former collaborators. One last chance. Fans eat that stuff up.”
“Ashley and I are not former lovers.”
My lips twitched into a half-smile. More confirmation. “You literally wrote a song called Love Me Again together.”
“That was branding.”
“You bought her an Irish horse.”
“It was tax deductible.”
“A horse named Soulmate.”
His jaw flexed. “The horse already had a name.”
I stared at him.
He stared back.
“Okay,” I said slowly. “Honestly, that somehow makes it worse.”
A reluctant grin tugged at the corner of his mouth before disappearing again. “You’re asking me to fake chemistry with a woman who just accused me of reliving my boyband days.”
“You did throw up gang signs for Five2Go.”
“It’s not a gang sign. It’s branding.”
“Oh my God, you and the horse.” I waved my hands in the air. “We will not go that far this time. No new songs together. No horses.”
All pretense.
He barked out a laugh, hearty and full-bodied, and I eked out a little sigh of relief. We’d gotten through the rough patch. For now.
How long could we avoid talking about the past—our past?
I clicked my tongue. “There he is. The charming, uncomplicated Conor Flynn the public adores. I knew he was trapped under all the brooding resentment. That’s Jay, not you.”
His expression narrowed. “Careful. I’m not as unproblematic as I used to be.”
Actually, he’d always been a big problem for me. Would he be a bigger problem now?
“You can be problematic, as long as you’re cooperative.” Rubbing my hands together, I said, “I need cooperation—from both of you—to keep this tour on track and get everyone hyped to attend.”
“Then maybe you’d better talk to your other...charge.” He popped the remnant of a chocolate croissant in his mouth. “She’s the one who needs an image overhaul, and her actions today prove she’s not serious about it. I’m not going to do all the heavy lifting for Ashley—on or off the stage.”
“You’re right.” I nodded so hard I gave myself a headache. “I absolutely will have a talk with her...or Orlando.”
“Chicken.” He patted his lips with a napkin, missing a fleck of chocolate in the corner.
My tongue darted from my mouth as I imagined his sweet lips made sweeter by the chocolate. Talk about chicken. I should grab his face in my hands and lick off that chocolate.
“What?” His eyebrows shot up to the lock of blond hair curling over his forehead. “You look like you’re ready to attack. Go ahead and talk to Orlando first. I don’t want you tangling with Ashley. She’d kick your arse.”
“She could probably kick your arse, if it came to it.”
“Hey—” he pounded his fist against his solid chest “—I’ve packed on some muscle since the last time you...saw me.”
I swallowed as my eyes trailed down his body. He wasn’t lying. He left a skinny boy and came back...a man. “Well, you could definitely beat her in a singing contest, but you’re playing nice from now on, right?”
Holding up his fingers in a peace sign, he said, “I’ll be on my best behavior...for you.”
“For moi?” I tapped my chin. “It’s your show, Conor. Yours and Ashley’s and Ji-yoon’s. You three will kill it.”
“But you’re the one who needs this tour to be a hit so you can climb that ladder of success. I want that for you.” Turning away, he crumpled his napkin and tossed it in the trash. “Always did want the best for you, Noelle.”
Then why’d you run away to Australia without a backward glance?
While he still had his back to me, I swiped my hand across my stinging nose, avoiding a sniffle.
The door to the green room swung open, and we both jumped.
The PA, her blonde ponytail swinging behind her jabbed a finger at me. “You’re the PR rep for Ashley Bennett, right?”
“Yes, and I’ll get her to do an interview with Haley if that’s what Haley wants. Things were a little chaotic this morning.”
“Things are still a little chaotic...” the PA jerked her thumb over her shoulder “...and Ashley’s doing her own interview—without Hayley.”
I exchanged a wild-eyed look with Conor and grabbed my bag. “What do you mean? Where is she?”
“She’s in the parking lot surrounded by press, holding court out there. Looks like they’re hanging on her every word waiting for a bomb to drop.” The PA tapped the side of her head. “She’s a loose cannon, that one.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.” I jerked my head toward Conor. “You coming?”
He squared his shoulders like he was entering battle for king and country. “I’m not letting you enter the lion’s den on your own.”
I thanked the PA as I rushed out the door, Conor hot on my heels. As we rounded the corner of the building, Ashley’s low, flirtatious laugh floated through the air.
At least she wasn’t screaming.
She spotted us and shoved her sunglasses into her hair. I could see the glint in her eye from here—and I didn’t like it.
I murmured under my breath to Conor. “Uh oh.”
He hooked his pinky finger with mine for a brief second and said, “Don’t worry. I got this, Nollaig.”
Then he strode toward the swarm of reporters circling Ashley—pulsing in the middle like entering the eye of the storm—and spread his arms wide. “There she is. That’s my girl.”
The press made room for Conor, and my mouth dropped when he grabbed Ashley in a clinch worthy of Tom Holland rescuing Zendaya from the paparazzi.
Ashley’s eyes widened for a second and then she melted into Conor’s arms.
As Conor stroked Ashley’s blond waves, a reporter called out. “Are you two back together?”
Conor raised his eyes from Ashley’s face and pinned me with a challenging gaze. “We’re working on it.”
And just like that, I got everything I needed from this PR campaign...and lost everything I wanted.