Chapter 24
CONOR
Ashley’s scream was more piercing than a live mic next to a stage speaker.
The photos.
Someone leaked the photos.
I covered my ears and met Noelle’s eyes, giving a slight shake of my head.
Did she do it out of some misplaced loyalty to save my career...at the expense of her own?
I quirked an eyebrow at her, and she mouthed the word, No. Relief loosened the knot in my chest.
As I navigated to the PopWiz account, Ashley cursed, shouted, and kicked an amp with the sharp toe of her stiletto. That had to hurt.
“Who did this? Which one of you took those fucking pictures? I will make sure you never work in this business again.”
The backstage crew, musicians, and dancers all shuffled. A couple of them slinked off the stage. A few grinned broadly, enjoying the show after the show.
“It was you, wasn’t it, Conor?”
I jerked my head up at Ashley’s accusation.
“I know you had the pictures because right before my set, Noelle told me she had them. I’m sure she shared them with you.” Ashley jabbed her finger at me. “You couldn’t take a few boos for a couple of shows. Try living in my stilettos for a few years.”
She kicked her leg in the air to show off her shoes, and one flew off her foot and nearly hit Rhys on the head. He ducked and caught it with one hand—those fast drummer reflexes.
“I did have those pictures.” I folded my arms. “I deleted them. I wasn’t burning Noelle’s career to save my own.”
Someone gasped. Was it Noelle?
“Ha!” Ashley threw her head back, emitting a strangled laugh. “You’re telling me you had the means to end the hate against you, and you deleted them.”
“You did?” Noelle folded her arms across her midsection and almost doubled over.
“You told me you could fix it, Noelle.” I shrugged. “I believed you.”
“I believe you, too.” Noelle glanced at her buzzing phone. “Neither Conor nor I sent those pictures to PopWiz, Ashley. Why would I do that? The exposure of you and Tomo just put my job on the line—I mean, even more than it already was.”
“Wait. Wait.” Jade waved her hands. “Why is this on Noelle?”
“Because...” Ashley limped over to Tomo who held out her shoe to her. “...one of her jobs as publicist for this tour involved boosting my image—not trashing it. The release of those photos just put a big F on her forehead—for failure.”
Holding onto Tomo’s pumped-up bicep, Ashley bent her knee and slipped the shoe onto her foot. “Although I honestly wouldn’t put it past you to sacrifice your career to save Con’s. The two of you don’t seem to possess one cell for PR hype between you.”
“I take that as a compliment.” I picked up my guitar. “Because if you expect me to start bad mouthing you on stage in retaliation, that ain’t gonna happen. I’m ready to get on with this concert and deliver a good show.”
“Easy for you to say now that public opinion is swaying back to your side.” Ashley whipped out her phone and tapped the screen.
“Oh, look. Here we go already: Can you believe Ashley was doing a dancer before Conor even kissed that publicist? Ashley hasn’t changed one bit.
She made Conor look so bad when she was the one cheating. ”
She held up one perfectly manicured fingernail. “Here it is. Here’s my favorite. Ashley’s such a bitch.”
I slid a sideways glance at Noelle, her hand covering her mouth. She looked like every one of those comments was aimed at her. They might as well have been.
“Here’s a good one.” Tomo bent over this phone. “At least the guy she cheated with is a hot dancer.”
“Yeah, that’s my saving grace.” Ashley pushed Tomo’s shoulder. “I have good taste in boytoys.”
I rolled my lips inward to stop them stretching into a smile. “You are a pro, Ash.”
“Just because I’m laughing on the outside, don’t for a minute think I’m gonna forget that someone betrayed me.” She pointed two fingers at her eyes and then turned them on the remaining crew members still swiping through their phones.
“I guess we both got played, Noelle. And Conor Flynn comes out on top—as usual.” She grabbed Tomo’s arm. “Get me outta here, hot dancer.”
Draping my guitar strap over my body, I turned to Noelle. “I’m sorry.”
“I mean, at least it wasn’t you.” She glanced at her phone once before shoving it into the side pocket of her bag. “Why did you delete the pictures?”
“I don’t know.” I took two steps toward her and hauled her bag over my other shoulder. “What are you going to do? Did Dina fire you already?”
“Not yet. Big meeting tomorrow.” She pinched her bottom lip between her fingers, smearing her pretty pink lipstick. “There has to be a way to frame this. Ashley was spiraling after what happened with Nico...”
“Do you hear yourself right now?” I cupped her elbow with my hand.
She jerked away from me. “It’s my literal job, Conor. Ashley is in a worse place now than when she started this tour I was supposed to manage.”
“That’s on her, Noelle. She took a risk with her own PR stunt, and it backfired on her.
You didn’t tell her to start a pity party on stage.
We all could’ve ignored those pictures of you and me and played up the connection between me and Ashley—although that was a grind, I tell ya.
Our anonymous donor never would’ve gone public with those other photos of her and Tomo.
” I peered around the mostly empty backstage area—just a few stagehands packing up the set.
“Who do you think posted those pics? The same person who took them and sent them to me?”
“I have no idea. Someone with a grudge against Ashley...and me.”
I nudged her back. “Let’s go. At least we don’t have to try to stay away from each other in public. I’m Conor Flynn, the Teflon prince again.”
“Is that why I didn’t see you all day? Honestly, when those pictures of Ashley dropped, your involvement crossed my mind.”
“Hey. I thought you believed me.”
“I did...I do, but for a second it made sense. You were hiding from me this afternoon, and then the pictures appeared.”
“I was hiding from you...” I placed my hand on the small of her back and guided her off the stage “...because I decided to go all in on convincing everyone that Ashley and I were still a thing—until she pulled her shite on stage again.”
“You saved that song. You and Ji-yoon save the show every night.”
“I know, which is a bigger problem than Ashley’s image.” A driver jumped from one of the waiting Escalades and loaded my guitar and Noelle’s bag in the back. “What in the bloody hell is Ashley going to do about her voice?”
“I guess she was relying on PR to pull her through.” Noelle climbed into the back seat of the car. “Or she plans to lip sync.”
“She wouldn’t have the balls.”
Noelle poked me in the arm when I landed beside her on the soft leather seat. “She had the balls to call you out on stage. Don’t underestimate her. She may still get ahead of this latest disaster.”
“I hope she does.” I toyed with Noelle’s fingers on the seat beside me. “For you.”
“She wouldn’t do it for me.”
“I know, but she wouldn’t care if her solution had that unintended effect. Ashley only cares about Ashley.”
“Agreed. As long as she doesn’t claw her way to the top on your back again.”
I settled against the seat and closed my eyes. After the roar of the concert and the chatter afterward, I let the silence wash over me, the hum of the highway diluting the adrenaline in my body.
I exhaled the words on my lips. “For a second, I thought you posted the photos.”
“I already told you. I felt the same about you—just for a second.”
We both laughed...without much humor.
“Deleting those photos was one of the hardest bloody things I’ve ever done in my life.”
“I can understand why you didn’t use them—because of me, but why’d you delete them?” She turned her head to peer at me in the darkness.
I welcomed the shadows as I admitted, “So I wouldn’t be tempted to post them if you couldn’t come up with a plan.”
“That’s stronger than you think, Con. And even braver to acknowledge the reason.”
“And in the end, I didn’t have to do a thing.” I dug my phone from my front pocket and scrolled through my socials.
The photos of Ashley and Tomo had flipped the narrative on its head. People gushed over my integrity for not calling out Ashley for cheating first. They loved me again. They took back all the nasty, hateful things they were spewing about me earlier in the day.
I had my redemption arc.
Noelle’s phone buzzed in her hand, and she barely glanced at the message.
It buzzed again, and she didn’t even look at it.
Her phone rang, and she tapped to ignore.
I asked, “Is it bad?”
“It’s manageable.” She placed the phone face-down on her thigh.
It vibrated again and nearly danced off her leg.
I grabbed it and turned it over. My eyes popped open. Twenty missed calls and a stack of unread text messages. A weight pressed against my chest. I almost wish the photos hadn’t rescued me.
I got my reputation back, but whoever released those pics just destroyed hers.
***
We didn’t speak much the rest of the ride. How could I apologize for something that wasn’t my fault? Even though I couldn’t accept the blame, I also didn’t need to crow about my salvaged image.
The car dropped us at the side door of the hotel, and I grabbed her bag and my guitar. I walked her to her room and stood awkwardly outside.
It didn’t seem fair. We’d—I’d shrugged off one heavy mantle only to have another suffocate us.
She flashed her card key and grabbed the door handle.
I leaned in to kiss her. Her mouth opened beneath mine, warm and ready. Then her body stiffened, and she pulled away.
“Not tonight, Conor. I’m happy you’re out from under that black cloud, but I still need an umbrella.” She slipped into her room and shut the door.
I stood in the hallway for a second and ambled toward the elevator just slowly enough in case she changed her mind and threw open that door.
Didn’t happen.
I punched the button and took the car to my floor. A few dancers at the end of the hall waved, and I waved back, wondering if they were the ones who leaked the photos. I saw everyone on the tour as a suspect now.
Once in my room, I showered, changed into a pair of gym shorts and a T-shirt and flopped on my bed with my laptop.
I read a message from Sam asking how I’d managed to go from fuckboy to saint in a few hours and begging me for tips. Wanker.
I brought up my songwriting program and tried to channel some of these feelings into new lyrics, but social media kept drawing me back with its siren’s song of positive energy.
Justice for Conor
Don’t mess with our pookie
Ashley lied, Conor cried
Time to fire the publicist
Five2go Forever!
Where was Noelle’s justice? This afternoon these same fans painted her as a homewrecker, a sneaky link, a sidepiece. Didn’t she deserve her own redemption arc? It didn’t feel as if even Noelle could fix this.
I jumped when my phone rang and sank against my pillows when I saw Toby’s name on the display. “Hey, Tobe.”
He whistled. “That was a close one, lad.”
“Yeah.”
“Did you post those photos of Ashley?”
“Fuck are you talking about. Of course, I didn’t.”
“Well, whoever did, saved your Irish ass. You’re out of the woods now.”
“Doesn’t feel like it.”
“What do you mean? Have you been checking the socials? You’re everyone’s fair-haired boy again. You don’t even need to address it. Keep quiet.”
I paused.
“Don’t do anything stupid, Con. You’re in the clear.”
I swallowed as the silence stretched over the line. “I am. But she’s not.”