Chapter 12
Cynhadledd i’r Wasg - Press Conference
Lucy
‘Excuse me, love, but can I come in?’
The voice drifts to me from the doorway I’m blocking. I must look like a right idiot, mouth wide, eyes glassy. Slumped. My gaze moves slowly to the voice’s owner, as if roving through treacle. He holds a wet flat cap, but his press pass hangs around his neck.
Conferences like this are my bread and butter. I usually thrive off repetitive tasks.
Today, I’m distracted. Although who can blame me with the way Rhys tore into me earlier.
‘Of course you can,’ I say, shaking off my funk. Now’s not the time to wallow. I can do that later, once I’m finished with work. ‘Thank you for coming today.’
I check his pass, tick his name off on my list, then show him to his seat. I repeat the process, the tension easing off my body as I get into the flow of it all. If a gap comes between visitors, I force myself to stand tall, ignore the grumble of my belly.
I couldn’t even look at lunch. The day I turn down food is the day you know there’s something seriously wrong with me.
What I don’t do is look at Rhys, who has chosen to spend his time hovering directly opposite me on the other side of the room. Watching the door. Not me. My scalp prickles every now and then, like his gaze has drifted. I tilt my body more towards the door, away from him. I have no time for bullies.
A stuffy know-it-all… a damn rod up her arse… I fucking hate her.
His words tear across my skin, hurting as much as they did this morning. I scratch my arm with the corner of my clipboard. If it wasn’t for Gethin, who came straight to my office to check I was okay, I might have gone.
The final journalist arrives, and I cross the last name off. ‘Welcome,’ I tell her. ‘Please take a seat. You’ll find a press release on the chair with all the tour details. It won’t be long until we make a start.’
I wait until she’s sitting, then push the talk button on my walkie. ‘That’s the last one in. Is everyone okay for me to get Cai?’
A series of ‘all good’s’ reply. The talkie crackles, then Rhys says, ‘I’m closer to the green room. I don’t mind grabbing him.’
‘It’s my job to check if he’s ready,’ I say. ‘Just concentrate on what you need to do.’
There’s a polished rhythm to these things. We stick to our tasks, and the event runs smoothly. He doesn’t get to disrupt all of that to hand me an olive branch I’m not ready for. Not yet.
The plush red carpet muffles the click of my heels as I cross the room and open the side door.
Cai and Gethin perch on a battered brown sofa, and they both look up at the same time.
I hate how forced their smiles are – too wide, too sweet, too many teeth showing.
They want to keep me here, and I’m determined to stay, but only if things return to normal.
I need them to treat me like this morning never happened.
Like they did yesterday, before Rhys woke up on the wrong side of the bed.
‘Heya.’ My voice is bright, shiny, probably way too over the top, but if they notice it, they don’t react. ‘The press are all in, and we’re ready to go. I put water on the table and the room temperature is set to nineteen, exactly how you like it. Is there anything you need?’
‘Nope.’ Cai gets to his feet, not bothering to mess with his hair or check his reflection one last time. Not like Topaz, who’d only venture out in public if he was absolutely perfect. ‘Let’s go.’
He follows me out of the room, taking a left to climb the stage while I go straight to my seat.
Once he’s in his chair next to Gethin’s, I settle, preparing to take notes on today’s questions and answers.
My minutes will help me fact-check tomorrow’s news stories and blog posts when they go live.
I won’t have anyone posting anything that wasn’t discussed in this room.
Retractions and forcing the press to write apologies are another one of my specialities.
Not like any of these lot would dare. You see the same people at the same events, and they ask the same repertoire of questions.
‘Jasper Reynolds. The Sun.’
My head snaps up from my notepad, and I twist in my seat to see the latest journalist get to his feet, his arm outstretched with his phone in his hand, ready to record.
Jasper Reynolds isn’t on my list. He’s not part of the usual crowd.
I flick through the papers on my clipboard to double-check.
The list confirms my suspicions. He’s an intruder.
On lifting my head, I find Rhys staring across the room at me, his eyebrows heavy and low on his forehead. I don’t need the question in my ear to know what he’s asking, and when I shake my head, he nods in reply.
He pushes off from the wall, his attention now fixed on Jasper.
‘Is it true,’ Jasper continues, pushing his shoulder-length grey hair out of his eyes, ‘you’ve rekindled your relationship with Bethan Pritchett, your bodyguard’s much younger sister? What does that mean for Topaz? Or do you plan on stringing them both along?’
Despite Cai wanting to keep his private life private, he did let the press know when he was seeing Topaz. Had to, when they were caught falling out of a taxi together after a particularly boozy awards ceremony. But Bethan is on the list of banned topics.
Rhys’ face clouds over, and he quickens his pace, stepping over outstretched legs and abandoned bags as he moves along Jasper’s row. The tips of his ears burn red. On the stage, Cai switches off. His face turns blank, and he pushes away from the microphone. Brain emptied. Conference over.
Jasper either hasn’t noticed or doesn’t care.
He continues to fire questions. ‘Will Bethan be giving up her job at Chelsea FC to go on tour with you? Is she happy with being a groupie for the rest of her life? Is it true you fired one of your bodyguards, Richard Smith, because he spoke up about his awful working conditions?’
I should get to the stage, help Gethin shut this down but my attention is firmly on Rhys. He yanks Jasper along his row by the collar of his corduroy jacket and I’m impressed with his strength. Jasper isn’t exactly fat, but he’s tall and sturdy-looking.
I abandon my clipboard and hurry to the door to open it. The sooner we can get this trash out of the room, the better. And yeah, Rhys has been an arse, but I’m going to help him anyway to protect Cai.
Plus, with how angry Rhys looks right now, I wouldn’t put it past him to punch the guy. The last thing we need is to deal with a battery accusation as well as whatever comes from Jasper’s reporting. Although could I stop him from brawling? Probably not, but I’d give it my best shot.
The journalist fights Rhys’ attempt to move him, digging his heels in. ‘Are you happy that your staff work in awful conditions?’ he shouts, squirming in Rhys’ grip. ‘Long hours, low pay, no benefits?’
Rhys hauls Jasper down the corridor towards the nearest exit, his toes barely grazing the carpet.
‘Delete your files,’ I shout at Jasper, working overtime to keep up with them. ‘You don’t have permission to be here, so you don’t get to keep the responses from all the other questions.’
‘Deleting them won’t help. My story’s practically written. Had an interview with Richie first thing. Amazing how much people’ll spill for a bit of cash. It’ll be on the front page tomorrow morning either way.’
I jab my finger at him. ‘And I’ll be straight in touch with your editor for a retraction.’
Rhys pushes open the fire exit, but the journalist spits at me. I move my leg with more speed than I thought I was capable of, and the wad of phlegm hits the floor inches away from my shoes. Spitting is disgusting, but I don’t expect much else from a cretin like this.
Rhys shifts his grip, slamming Jasper into the door so loud I’m sure the whole stadium hears it. He has hold of Jasper’s lapels, his face bright red. ‘Don’t you dare fucking spit at her.’
I’m not strong enough to yank Rhys off of Jasper, but I give it my best shot, wriggling in between them enough for Rhys to release Jasper’s coat. I face him, not Jasper, my hand on his chest as if I could move him further away. As if I was strong enough. The guy’s built like a mountain.
‘Let it go, Rhys,’ I say. ‘He’s not worth it.’
He takes a breath, his eyes trained on me. It takes a moment, another breath, but eventually he nods, cooling down. The storm passes.
‘Ow!’ Jasper winces, holding his cheek although nobody touched him.
With his spare hand, he snaps a picture of me restraining Rhys.
‘Can’t believe you fucking punched me,’ he shouts, as if calling the empty corridor as his witness.
‘But at least I have another story to run, a picture to include. Cai’s bodyguard – resorting to violence for absolutely no reason, and the fat cow who encouraged it. ’
‘You absolute scum.’ I dive for him, but Rhys clamps his hand on my shoulder, holding me back. I snatch the phone from Jasper. Throw it on the floor. Grind my heel into the screen until it’s in a million pieces.
I stare at the shards. My chest heaves. I hope I stopped everything from uploading to the cloud.
‘Fucking hell, Lucy,’ Rhys breathes out. ‘You badass.’
‘She’s a fucking bitch,’ Jasper snarls, lunging at me.
Rhys steps in front, arms folded over his body. ‘Leave. Or you’ll be dealing with more than a report to the IPSO.’
Jasper eyes us once more, then steps through the doorway. He straightens his clothes, pushes his hair out of his face. He mumbles as he leaves, but I’m no longer tuned into anything he’s saying.
‘You all right?’ Rhys turns towards me, his eyes flitting from tip to toe to check for himself.
‘I’m okay.’ My hands shake as I smooth them over my bun.
‘How did he get in?’
‘I–I don’t know. He wasn’t on my list. I checked everyone in myself. He must have—’
‘—snuck in. Fucking Richie.’ He paces away from me, kicks at the skirting board, then returns to me. ‘Bet he’s behind it. I’ll run debrief with the rest of the crew once we’ve made sure Cai’s safe. Then we’ll have to compare notes later, all right?’
‘Yeah, fine.’
My cheeks are hot. He takes a step towards me, and the phone crunches under his foot. Chuffing a laugh, he kneels to pick up the remains. ‘I can’t believe you did that.’
‘Neither can I.’ There have been times when I wanted to, but I’ve always been able to claw back enough control to take a step back, pull in a breath until I’m calm. I can’t let my professional standards slip again. It’s entirely unnecessary.
‘I’ve dealt with some utter bellends in the past, but I’ve not resorted to criminal fucking damage.’
‘You don’t think he’ll press charges?’ A mark on my record will massively reduce my chances of getting a new job. Gethin’s going to be annoyed at me. He hired me to build Cai’s reputation, promote him, and here I am fighting with the press.
Rhys shrugs. ‘No witnesses. Doesn’t have a leg to stand on.’
‘But you’re—’
‘Didn’t see a thing.’
Oh. He’s sticking up for me.
‘Thanks.’
The conversation fizzles out, like the adrenaline that coursed through my bloodstream, leaving me painfully aware that it’s only me and Rhys in the corridor.
Alone. The exact situation I’ve been avoiding all day.
I stare down the hallway, willing for someone, anyone, to come and interrupt us. I need an excuse to leave.
As if he’s had the same realisation, he snaps up straight. He pockets the remains of the phone, hiding the evidence. Then he shifts from one foot to the other, both hands tucked behind him.
‘Lucy, uhm, listen.’
‘Let’s get back and wrap the conference up so we can get Cai home.’ I can’t take his grovelling right now. Or ever. I have a job to do. A pop star to look after. So does he.
I take a few steps away from him. There are a hundred other things I need to do than hear him out. I have to get back to the conference suite, check what Cai needs. Create some space in his schedule so he can speak to Bethan. She needs to be warned, and it has to come from him.
Rhys loops his fingers around my wrist, pulling me to a stop. ‘Please, Lucy. What you heard earlier, I—’
The thin line that Jasper had already pulled tight snaps. I turn around to glare at Rhys. ‘What, Rhys? What did I hear?’
‘I said some things I didn’t mean, and I never wanted to—’
‘To hurt me? To embarrass me in front of my new boss and colleague? Are you trying to say you don’t actually think I’m a telltale, that I don’t have a rod stuck up my backside? Or do you not really hate me because I’m a stuffy know-it-all?’
He doesn’t reply, but his gaze drifts to his shoes and stays there.
I soften my voice before I continue, ‘I deserved none of it, Rhys. I thought we were getting along. That we’d moved past all our differences and were getting to a point where we could work together. Can you imagine how betrayed I feel?’
He carries on staring at the floor. ‘I am sorry, Lucy. Truly. Everything I said was a mistake. I should have come and spoken to you, talked to you about my issues. I-I regret how I dealt with it.’
‘Or do you regret that I overheard your tantrum?’ If I’d not been there, if I’d not caught him as he finished his tirade, what else would he have done? Would he have taken it to Cai and tried to darken my relationship with him?
‘I regret—’
‘From now on, we’ll stick to discussing work. Nothing else. I’ll email you anything that’s not urgent, and put in a meeting to discuss anything that is. And if you have any concerns about any of my plans, you can do the same.’
Even though he’s at least a head taller than me, he’s hunched over. Like if he can make himself as small as possible, I’ll forgive him. Not a chance. The bridge of my nose burns, and my hands are shaking again. And still his words repeat over and over in my head.
The doors to the conference suite open, spewing out journalists. Rhys looks like he’s about to speak again, but he swallows whatever he wants to say. He doesn’t want an audience so all I get from him is a curt nod. He walks past me and up the corridor, eyes trained on the floor.
I wait until he disappears, then follow him, my shoulders heavy and my head pounding. Confronting him hasn’t helped. Things aren’t fixed between us, and I’m not sure how we can. I can’t trust him again. I don’t know if I even want to.