Chapter 22 #2
I strolled to the balcony to retrieve our clothes and picked up my phone from the table outside. The last photo still glowed on the screen—Ashley and Tomo tangled together backstage.
Whoever sent those pictures just tossed me a grenade.
Now I just had to decide who was going to pull the pin.
***
The next day, we had a ten and half hour bus ride to Austin. We usually took off in the afternoon and traveled at night, but some genius had scheduled the concert on the night we arrived, so we had to pack up early in the morning and hit the road—and then perform.
The trip was going to be brutal, so most people planned to use some pharmaceuticals to sleep on the way. I already found out from Rhys that almost everyone had partied the night away. They might not even need their sleep aids to conk out.
Noelle and I had found our own way to party.
She insisted on kicking me out of her room in the wee hours of the morning so nobody would see me doing the walk of shame down the hallway.
And even then, I had to make a run for it.
Because of our early departure, some of the crew never went to sleep after bar hopping.
I heard them out at the pool as I slipped into my room.
My bags packed and loaded on the bus, I pulled my phone from my pocket to thumb through the pictures of Ashley and Tomo again. Posting them would solve my likeability problem—and create a new issue for Noelle.
I clicked off the photos, finished my coffee, and headed to the bus.
When I stepped on board, I already heard snoring, and I raised my eyebrows at Quinton. “You’re kidding.”
He shook his head. “Some of these guys didn’t even make it to the hotel. They crashed here after boozing.”
“I hope they got all their stuff on board last night.”
“Jermaine made sure of it.”
Quinton and I fist-bumped before I hoisted my bag upstairs. I didn’t think I could sleep after the night I spent, but I had a few songs going through my head I wanted to get down.
Jade met me on the stairs, and I made way for her to squeeze past me.
“If it isn’t the bad boy.”
“Hilarious.”
Yawning, she said, “You missed a good time last night.”
“Yeah, I don’t think so.” I winked at her and continued upstairs.
Maybe I should lean into this whole fuckboy image. Someone had to take over for the happily settled Sam and Jay the recluse.
My phone burned in my pocket.
I hooked a finger at the edge of the curtain surrounding my bunk and tugged it aside, peeking into the bottom bunk. Empty. I hoped Noelle didn’t miss the bus.
As I hoisted my bag into the compartment at the foot of my bed, I heard her tinkling laugh while she chatted with Quinton, and my shoulders relaxed. The phone in my back pocket cooled.
I jogged downstairs, and she smiled when she saw me. That smile made everything right.
I pointed to the stationary table and chairs in the corner by the front door. “I’m going to do a little work down here while everyone’s sleeping off their hangovers. Wanna join me, or do you want to sleep?”
She patted the bag over her shoulder. “I have some work to do. I’ll join you once I stash my overnight.”
“Ashley make it to the airport okay?”
“She and Shanice took a car this morning.”
“Ji-yoon on her way?”
“She’s already there. Poor thing had an early morning interview in Austin, so her manager whisked her from the concert to the airport.”
“I remember those days. They wear on you.” I placed my laptop on the table and dropped into a chair. “I hope someone’s taking care of her, but I doubt it.”
“Maybe you could talk to her, Con. You know better than anyone what she’s facing.
” She put her foot on the bottom step and twisted her head over her shoulder.
“Imagine how different it could’ve been if Five2Go had someone in their corner—someone who really cared about your mental health and emotional well-being. ”
As she climbed the stairs, I murmured, “I never would’ve lost you.”
By the time Noelle made it back to the first level of the bus, Quinton had steered us onto the highway and the long crawl across Texas. And I’d nailed down the first verse of a new song.
Noelle took the seat across from me, flipping open her laptop. “Are we the only ones awake on this bus?”
“I think Quinton is.”
Quinton called back, “Don’t be too sure about that.”
Noelle’s fingers flew across her keyboard, but the buzzing of her phone interrupted her every few minutes.
I tipped my chin toward the phone. “Putting out fires?”
“It’s Dina.”
Knots tightened in my gut. “Is she happy Ashley’s playing the victim of a love triangle, or is she pissed one of the points of that triangle is the tour publicist?”
“A little of both. She just wants me to make it right.”
“Or else?” I had to struggle to keep my eyes from my own phone resting beside my laptop.
“Implied.” She hunched forward. “But those photos aren’t the answer. Posting those would solve one problem but create a whole host of others.”
“The pictures mean we’re not the bad guys. I didn’t cheat, and you didn’t betray your client.”
“They also mean Ashley Bennett hasn’t changed her spots, and people are going to drag her for shitting on you—and then I’ve basically failed at one very important aspect of my job.”
“It sounds like you lose either way, Noelle. So, why not lose in a way that benefits me and not Ashley?”
Did that sound as bad as it felt saying it?
“Because I still think I can work this out. Maybe if we let Ashley know we have the pictures, she’ll back off. You two can go back to pretending you’re the loving couple, and I can slip into the background—where I belong.”
“I’m not doing anything...yet.” I sank back in my chair. “While we’re on the topic of anonymous texters. I haven’t heard anything from my other one. I’m assuming Louise never answered your question, either.”
“No, but we have our answer. It was Gordon. We always suspected him, and Louise confirmed.”
“But my anonymous texter advised me to follow the money. How would that implicate Gordo?”
She shrugged. “Gordon pushed the image of five single, available lads singing songs directly to their fans—and made millions doing it. You guys were his cash cows.”
“I suppose.” I tapped my fingers on the table. “All these anonymous messages, DMs, random photos appearing on my phone—doesn’t anyone ever communicate face-to-face anymore, human-to-human?”
“With jobs, NDAs, careers, and reputations on the line, why would they?”
“It’s...soulless.”
Quinton dimmed the lights, and someone in the back pulled down the last open shade on the window. Rhys had fallen asleep in front of the TV, and the bus hurtled through the Chihuahuan Desert.
Noelle snapped her laptop closed and stuffed it into her bag. “I’m going up to my bunk to get some sleep. Do not...” she wagged a finger in my face “...follow me there.”
“Promise.” I drew a cross over my heart. “I’m going to work on some music—just in case my reputation survives this onslaught and someone actually wants to listen to it.”
“I’ll make it work.” Noelle glanced around quickly and dropped a kiss on my cheek.
As she walked away, swaying with the motion of the bus, I pressed my fingers against the spot to preserve the feel of her lips a little longer.
A text from Toby came through, and I groaned when I read the words:
What the hell is going on out there?
Now I had my manager on my ass. This could end right now.
I navigated to my own anonymous email account—ironic how I was just complaining to Noelle about faceless bots behind keyboards. I’d become one.
I brought up PopWiz’s page for submitting tips. How many celebrities before me had used this page to control their own destiny? Did I have a tip for them—including the pics to prove it. They’d eat this shit up.
I drafted the message and brought up the incriminating pictures of Ashley and Tomo. Ashley would survive another scandal. Not sure Noelle would survive her first.
My thumb hovered over the Attachment button. I wiped the back of my hand across my mouth.
One tap. One tap and I'd have my reputation back. The boos would stop. We could launch the reunion tour with all our fans behind us.
I switched back to the photos and eyed the trashcan. Another tap and the pictures were gone forever. Noelle could manage this in a different way, one that didn’t set her career on fire.
My thumb landed on the trash can. One last prompt. Was I sure I wanted to permanently delete 3 photos? Was my phone trying to torture me?
I stared at the screen until it dimmed.
Then I hit Delete.