Chapter 21 #2
Conor turned his back on me, and Rhys followed him down the steps.
I hugged my clipboard and swallowed my tears. I’d done everything wrong since that very first meeting. And I knew why I’d done it.
Sure, the stunt relationship was a guaranteed method for amping up the publicity and interest in a tour, and I knew Dina and Orlando would eat it up. But the real reason?
I wanted to pretend to Conor that I cared so little for him and what we had that I could easily partner him with another woman in a stunt relationship without a single regret.
I fucked up.
We had to end this, and if my career with 92 West ended, then I deserved it for initiating the kind of PR that I typically hated. I allowed my personal feelings for Conor to disrupt my normal business sense.
Jade broke away from the dancers. “Whoa, what was that about?”
“Ashley wasn’t feeling well, but at least she won’t be on the ten-hour bus ride to Austin with us.”
“Sounded ugly out there—and I’m not talking about the boos. Is she gonna be able to finish the tour with that voice?”
“We’ll figure it out.” I blew out a long breath. Maybe everyone thought the boos were for Ashley’s voice. “I’m heading back to the hotel. Do you want to ride with me.”
Jade looked up from her phone. “Uh, some of us are going out. You’re welcome to join us. Conor already left for the hotel, and Rhys went with him.”
“I’m wiped, Jade. But thanks for the offer.”
I went out back and searched for an open car to the hotel. This hotel couldn’t accommodate all of us, so some of the crew decided to bunk in the bus. Quinton had parked it behind the hotel, so I joined a car back to our lodgings already stuffed with crew members.
I searched for Ashley amid the people swarming cars, but she’d vanished. Good thing. I had hot words on my tongue for her that probably needed to melt there.
The people in the car had their own concerns, and they discussed missed cues and tangled rigging and speaker issues. It’s just what I needed to hear. My problems didn’t overshadow theirs...they were simply different.
One of the guys poked my leg. “You okay, Noelle. The tour’s going great. So many freaking people. You must be doing something right. Someone said Austin’s already sold out.”
I mustered up a smile. “I’m fine, just tired. You guys are killing it—so professional.”
Wish the talent could match the crew’s professionalism.
When we reached the hotel, the guys headed for the bus, and I scuffed off to my room. As my lock clicked, Conor yelled my name down the hall.
My muscles tensed. If he laid into me, I don’t know if I could take it—even though I deserved it.
“What took you so long? I was waiting for you.” He stroked my hair. “Are you alright? I’m sorry that happened.”
I leaned my head into his hand for a second—and I didn’t care who saw. “It’s not your fault, Con. It’s mine.”
Reaching past me, he shoved open my door. “I’m inviting myself in for a drink. There’s actually a can of Guinness in the mini bar, but Rhys already stole mine.”
I walked into the room and tossed my bag onto the desk. “I could use a drink...or 25. Why would she do that?”
“We both know why. It suited her.” Conor crouched before the mini bar and whistled. “You still have your Guinness.”
“Who else is gonna drink that shite? I hate it. Did I ever tell you that?”
He emerged from the little fridge with a smile on his face, holding the can of Guinness in one hand and a bottle of white wine in the other. “This okay, or do you need something stronger?”
“The wine’s okay. I’ll chug it from the bottle.”
He cranked open the twist cap and held it out to me. “Let’s sit on the balcony. I love those butte things out there. They look other-worldly.”
“They are beautiful in a weird way.” I opened the sliding door to the balcony and settled into a chair with my wine.
Conor dragged his chair close to mine and cracked open his can. Closing his eyes, he took a sip. “Can’t beat a pint at the pub, but it’ll do in a crisis.”
“This is a crisis, isn’t it?” I squinted at the label on my bottle and took a sip, the wine pooling on my tongue with a surprisingly crisp taste for a twist cap bottle in a mini bar. “Have you ever been booed before?”
“Well, some wankers booed me and the lads one time at an awards show for winning best song for something. I dunno. We thought it was kind of hilarious at the time—well, Charlie and I did—the others were pissed, mortified, and worried. I’ll let you guess who was who.”
“Let’s see.” I raised my eyes. “Javeed was pissed, Sam was mortified, and IP was worried and took it personally. Did I get it?”
“You know the boys as well as I do. They haven’t changed much.”
“But that was a group boo—easier to stomach, especially with Charlie by your side cracking jokes.”
Conor raised his can. “Fans booed me for not doing a Five2Go song in a concert. You know, at the end for the encore after I’ve made them sit through all my solo stuff and they’re screaming their lungs out for Baby Oh and all the other hits, and I wave and walk off the stage...to boos.”
“Yeah, I know that, too.” I shrugged. “The fans get over that pretty quickly. They have to know by now that you guys might not perform a Five2 song, especially at the beginning of your solo careers. All of you avoided those songs like a skunk in heat.”
“We did, didn’t we? I suppose we grew up and realized what we had. Those songs belong to us.”
“Ian added quite a few at his concerts in South America—even with all those hits from his number one album last year. He has his eye on the reunion, doesn’t he?”
“We all do now—except Jay, but you can work on him.”
“You have an unfounded belief in my abilities.” I gulped back more wine. Especially now. Apparently, my abilities sucked. I couldn’t even oversee a six-week summer tour where each act had his and her own manager.
“Always, except it’s not undeserved.” Conor squeezed my knee. “In fact, I was thinking...”
Conor’s phone on the table between us pinged.
I pointed to the phone. “Better get that. Mine’s in my bag in the room, and it could be Jermaine with some tour news.”
He swept the phone from the table and tapped the screen. His eyes widened as he swiped the display.
Then he clasped the phone to his chest as he jumped from his seat. “Holy shit!”
“What? What?”
His expression shifted from shock to something darker. “Everything just fucking changed.”