Chapter 10
NOELLE
A few of the band members turned their heads to follow Conor’s gaze. My brain screamed:
Run off the stage.
Duck behind the curtain.
Put a bag over your head.
But my feet remained rooted to the floor as the melody washed over me, leaving pure longing throbbing in my veins.
Audience members in the front row turned their heads. Maybe they thought Conor was watching some commotion in the wings. Should I cause a ruckus to warrant his attention over here? I was good at that. I could bring down the whole curtain if I wanted.
I mumbled to myself, “Eyes forward, Con.”
I was seconds away from hiding myself when the song ended and lights splashed across the crowd. This signaled Conor’s closing set and the beginning of Ashley’s, which they’d kick off with their duet.
Thank goodness that was over. Hearing whispers, I glanced behind me at a bunch of dancers, their heads together, occasionally eyeing me over their shoulders. They must be talking about my disastrous turn on the stage during the first rehearsal. Right?
Drawing closer to the stage, arms crossed, I tapped my foot to the opening strains of Ashley and Conor’s duet. C’mon Con. Put your heart into this one. Give the crowd what they want—Conley 2.0.
I held my breath as Ashley started her verse. Would she hit the high note? The high note came and went, and she opted for a lower note, but her fans didn’t notice. Conor didn’t seem to care either.
They sounded good. They looked good. We had this first show in the bag with no major disasters.
As they turned to face each other for the chorus, Ashley touched Conor’s cheek and looked into his eyes. Conor looked past her shoulder at...me.
I swallowed hard and shook my head.
Would Ashley catch on? She spun back toward the crowd and belted out her next verse. She held the mic out to the audience, and the A-Bens sang right back to her.
I swiped at a bead of sweat on my forehead with the back of my hand. Ashley was in her element. Her screaming fans, who copied her hairstyle and fashion, claimed all her focus. She wouldn’t notice if the entire stage fell down around her—not that I had any ideas in that direction.
The song ended, and Conor couldn’t get away from Ashley fast enough. He waved to the crowd, gave Ashley a peck on the cheek, and sprinted off stage...to me.
He grabbed my shoulders. “What did you think? Went well, yeah?
I twisted out of his grip. “So good, Con. Look, I gotta talk to security. You should chill out. Don’t you drink that tea after a performance?”
“You gave us that tea. Always looking after us.”
I couldn’t look into his soft eyes. What had come over him?
“Still doing it.” I waved my hand over my shoulder vaguely. “Need to discuss something with security.”
In my rush to get away from Conor, I tripped on the top step and almost tumbled down the remaining five. But Conor was right behind me and grabbed me around the waist, pulling me against his chest.
He buried his face in my hair. “I guess it’s my job to keep you safe on stage—and in buses...and anywhere else.”
I placed my hands on the arms wrapped around me. I wanted to stay like this forever, but we both had jobs to do, and neither of those jobs included clinches at the edge of the stage while his fake mate performed.
I patted the backs of his hands. “Thanks. Can’t take me anywhere, but I really need to get to security before they move on.”
He released me. “If I don’t see you for the rest of the concert, you are going to Charlie’s after the show, right? He’d be so disappointed if he didn’t see you.”
“I’ll be there.” I tapped my throat. “Take care of your voice.”
I made my way down the steps and ducked into the pit in front of the stage. I huddled with the security team watching Ashley’s performance. I didn’t really have to consult with them, but it seemed as good a place as any to disappear behind their bulky frames.
The stage show was tight—the dancers on point, the band hitting the beat, even the beach background fit the vibe.
Ashley commanded it all like a conductor.
But her voice? She had two or three songs with good vocal quality, and that depended on how much she let the audience carry the load.
But as her set continued, she let the fans take over.
Could she keep this up for a whole six-week tour? Her manager, Orlando, had been worried about Ashley’s image. Maybe he should’ve been more concerned about her voice.
Jackson bumped into me and immediately righted me as if I were a doll teetering on a shelf. “Sorry, Noelle. Didn’t see you there. Did you need something?”
“Just trying to get a different perspective.”
And hide out.
“It’s a good show. Crowd’s loving it.” He swept his arm to the side. “It’s not so bad now, but people were going crazy taking pictures during Conor’s set. Usually, they were quick snaps. I didn’t see them recording a lot of long videos.”
“I’m sure it’s fine. Nothing wrong with a few pics of the show making it to social media.”
As Ashley headed into her final song of the night, I slipped through the pit area barriers. “Thanks for all your help tonight. I sure hope security at the other shows is as professional as you guys.”
“I hope so.”
I made a run for my car. I wanted to sneak out the back way before the concert ended.
I’d done my part and would leave the rest to Jermaine and his team.
Besides, if I got to Charlie’s place early, we could have a chat before the party started.
I sent him a card and flowers when his mum passed last year but hadn’t spoken to him since—and definitely not since he got together with his childhood sweetheart.
The almost hour-long drive to Malibu gave me plenty of time to think. Why had Conor decided to sing that song, “No Contact,” tonight? Was it some kind of message to me?
In the song, the no contact phrase referred to the woman in the relationship who’d ghosted her man when he had to leave. But that’s not how it went. I texted Conor daily at the beginning. I even called him, and those calls went straight to voicemail.
Was he trying to tell me that he was sorry for going no contact? Was he trying to romanticize this whole second chance thing between us?
Now was not the time or place for that. He had to pretend with Ashley, and he’d done a shit job of it tonight. At least she hadn’t seemed to notice.
Maybe it would never be the time or place. He did me dirty. He hurt me so much, I had a tough time trusting anyone after that relationship. Just because he was Conor Flynn it didn’t give him the right to waltz back into my life, sing me a love song, and expect to pick up where he left off.
Then what?
I was so deep in thought, I almost missed the exit for Las Virgenes Road down to Malibu.
The gossip sites would go wild if they knew Charlie was throwing a party for his Five2Go bandmate. Any publicist worth her salt would’ve ignored Conor’s pleas for privacy and placed a few strategic phone calls.
Noelle Martine’s burning ambition, my ass.
***
I pulled my Prius alongside the valet parking cart stationed on Pacific Coast Highway up from Charlie’s house. The homes along this stretch didn’t look too impressive from PCH, but once you walked inside, the whole house opened to the Pacific Ocean.
The valet parking attendant flicked his cigarette to the ground and jumped to attention when he noticed my car. Good. That meant I was early.
He rushed to the driver’s side and opened my door. Did I need a ticket? A secret handshake? A thumbprint?
I went old school. “I’m here for the Beck party.”
“Of course, miss. Just follow that path down to the road below.” He glanced at my pointy-toed black flats, which I’d substituted for the sneakers I usually wore running back and forth between the stage, trailers, and pit. “Do you need any help walking to the house?”
I eyed the grade of the incline. “I’m good.”
I only slid a little bit on my way to the lower road where several large houses blocked the view of the ocean. I didn’t need to check my phone for the address. Blazing lights spilled onto the road from only one home in the row.
The door swung open before I even reached the porch, and Charlie spread his arms. “Fookin’ hell—if it isn’t Noelle, our little savior.”
My face split into a wide grin despite Charlie’s moniker. My ears and heart had missed that accent. I flew into his arms, and he picked me up and swung me around.
“Fucking brilliant to see you, Noelle.”
Pinching his cheek, I said, “You too, Charlie. I love all the new songs you and Devon are writing.”
“Come on inside and tell her yourself.”
Charlie ushered me into his house, and the view took my breath away as I faced a solid glass wall overlooking the ocean.
Devon poked her head around the corner from what was probably the kitchen, her blonde hair in a high ponytail, an apron tied around her long, lithe frame. “Hey, Noelle.”
“Does Charlie have you slaving away in the kitchen for this party?” I crossed the room and gave her a one-armed hug while I sniffed the scent of butter and sugar floating out of the oven.
“Everything’s catered but the sweet stuff. You know I can’t have anyone else making the dessert.”
“Yeah, I heard you opened a bakery in London several years ago—Sweet Devon.”
Devon made a face that did nothing to alter her beauty. “Not so sweet...it didn’t work out.”
“But song writing has. You two are killing it.”
Charlie slung his arm around Devon’s shoulders and licked a dab of frosting from her cheek. “She’s the best song-writing partner I ever had—just don’t tell Ian.”
An ear-splitting scream from the staircase interrupted our conversation, and a blonde in a pair of shorts and a crop top barreled down the stairs. “Oh my God! It’s Noelle.”
My mouth dropped open as the blonde almost tackled me. “This can’t possibly be Poppy.”
“She and Lily were just girls when you saw them last. Now she’s...” Charlie waved his hand over his sister “...an annoying influencer.”
“I remember the twins, but how do you remember me?”