Laughter bubbled out of her throat. When he didn’t join in or even turn around, she stopped abruptly. “You’re kidding, aren’t you? I listen to you perform every night. Dylan, you’re fantastic.”
A fantastic copycat. “That’s Riptide’s music. I’m just stepping in, like an understudy, to an already perfect show.” He looked over his shoulder at her. “What if my music isn’t good enough?”
At least she took his question seriously. Leo had ignored it entirely, too dazzled at the thought of television. Ariel, on the other hand, brought her clasped hands to her lips and stared out the window in thought for a few minutes. Finally, she cocked her head and asked, “Does that matter?”
Not what he’d been expecting. One hell of a letdown of a non-answer. “Of course,” he snapped.
“No, what I mean is, does it have to be your music? Or is it enough to just keep performing with a top-level group? Being considered a top-tier musician?”
Ah. Now he saw her point. And it kept everything in the family, so to speak. “If Riptide offers me Jake’s spot? That’s what you’re asking? If—if—their new concept takes off, and the labels come begging, and they resume their spot at the top of the charts for the foreseeable future? If all that happens and Jake doesn’t return, I ride their coattails?”
“Not when you put it quite as depressingly as that. But yes. Or something similar. Maybe you form a new group. Who knows? I’m saying that you have to be sure of your priorities. Is it getting to perform every night, no matter what? Is it financial security, again, no matter what, for your family? Are you willing to take a huge risk and, yes, possibly fail spectacularly, but be able to look yourself in the mirror every morning?”
Silence beat its own rhythm in the room. They were great questions. She’d verbalized the whirlpool of thoughts circling his brain into workable bullet points. Dylan scrubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “You’re not going to sit there and wait for an answer right now, are you?”
“Absolutely not. This was a good talk. And the best way to finish a good talk is to let it gel for a while in your subconscious. What you truly want will bubble to the surface sooner rather than later. Right now, the best thing to do is not think about it.” Ariel stood. She took a semiracing leap at the bed and rolled across it three times before stopping. Throwing her arms out wide, she said, “I’ve got a good idea of how to distract you.”
God, how had he gotten so lucky? Ariel was so different from all the girls who’d wanted in his pants but never wanted to stick around to talk. Or listen to new song ideas. When they weren’t being snapped by paparazzi or in bed, most of his so-called girlfriends had tuned out on him, or found excuses to leave. Which meant his fame was the only thing that had actually interested them. Ariel liked to work and play with him in equal measure. He couldn’t ask for anything more.
“I can guarantee I won’t be distracted. I’ll be extremely focused,” Dylan promised. He shrugged out of his jacket. Tugged his shirt over his head while he crawled across the big-ass white duvet over to her. Managed to get her shirt onto the floor with one quick roll. Today’s bra was thin, intricate lace. Like seafoam breaking across her breasts. Dylan buried his face between them and growled.
“Holy fucking shit, D.” Jones stormed into the room, slamming the door against the wall with his entrance.
Dylan slid upward to cover Ariel better. “Hey, so not cool to barge in on us. Get out of here. Whatever it is can wait.”
His expression was uncharacteristically sober. “It can’t.”
Grabbing a pillow for wider protection, Ariel angled sideways to lean on an elbow. “What’s wrong, Jones? Is it Jake?”
“No. It’s Big D here. And I mean big.” Jones twisted his wrist to flash them the screen of his phone. “Because I’m looking at a full-frontal shot of him totally naked. It’s all over the Internet. I know you’re on this whole bad-boy kick. But I thought that was just for show. This is…not how we do things in Riptide. We may be rock ’n’ roll, but we’ve still got standards.”
Holy fucking shit was right. “I didn’t release a naked photo, Jones. Give me some credit. Some asswipe with a telephoto lens must’ve snuck a photo through a hotel room window. Lemme see that.”
Jones tossed him the phone. “Not a paparazzi shot, D. You posed for this one. I dunno how long ago, but one of your exes clearly decided to cash in and share way too much of you for a sweet payday. Do you remember taking this? You know who did it?”
“Whoever it is, we’ll sue their ass,” Dylan vowed. “They won’t keep a cent.” He picked up the phone. And then let it fall from suddenly numb fingers. His whole body went numb. He remembered taking the photo, all right. Hard not to, since it happened just this week. Sick to his stomach, he looked right at Ariel. “Yeah. I know who took it.”
CHAPTER TEN
Ariel watched Dylan pace around the plunge pool on the balcony. It would’ve made more sense to pace the long length of the suite. But he’d said—yelled, actually—that he needed air. Needed space. What he’d left unsaid—he needed to get away from her—was still screamingly obvious.
In a perfect world, she’d get some time and space, too. Time to absorb what had happened. Space to get away from the accusing stares piling up in the room, all aimed at her like klieg lights. Kyoko and Tony had swung by to catch a drink before hitting the town. Well, no need to go anywhere. They’d stumbled into the start of one heck of a show right here. Then Kylie bounced in, wielding her iPad and ready to give them the lowdown on the night. Instead, she’d gotten the lowdown from Jones as to the epic horribleness unfolding.
They’d left Ariel alone long enough to put her shirt back on and call her boss to straighten things out. But now everyone wanted answers. Starting with Cam, who’d just come through the suite’s door like thunder.
“I can explain—” Ariel barely started before Cam cut her off with a slash of his hand across his throat.
“Oh, you’re going to explain.” He turned to Tony. “Get D in here. He deserves to hear all of this. I’m sorry, guys, but I’m pulling rank and shutting the door on this conversation. Just until we get everything straightened out.”
“We’ve got your back when you need us,” Kyoko said with a glare at Ariel that could’ve cut her like a scalpel. It certainly stung as badly.
“We’re losing precious minutes of spinning this thing. Making it go away or embracing it for a wild ride. You’ve gotta give me a direction,” Tony insisted.
“Soon. As soon as we decide. I’ll text you.”
Jones waved him away. “Go ahead and hit the tables, but don’t leave the Hard Rock casino.”
Kylie kissed Cam on the cheek, then swerved over to hug Dylan before leading Tony and Kyoko back out the door with a harsh swish of her hair.
Cam and Jones flanked Dylan. Great. The three of them were united in a single line across from her. Against her. Standing in the middle of the living room felt more like being on the witness stand in a courtroom. But she didn’t blame them one bit.
A vein pulsed at Cam’s temple. He stood, legs spread, in head-to-toe black, and as intimidating as she’d ever seen him. “Is what Jones texted me true? Because I’m finding it damn hard to understand how my sister would pull a stunt like this. My sister, who’s had an inside view of exactly how crappy it is to be followed and spied on by people. To not know who to trust. To rarely be able to let your guard down. My sister would never, could never, forget all of that and betray one of her friends, one of us. Right?”
He was so right. “Never. I’d never betray any of you.”
Jones turned to ask, “Dylan, did you let Ariel take your picture? Balls-to-the-wall naked?”
“Yes.” His answer couldn’t have been more clipped if he’d pulled out a pair of scissors. And every vestige of warmth was gone from his face.
“Did you give her permission to release it to the public?”
“Hell, no.” Ever since the first moment she’d walked into his manager’s offic
e, Dylan had always looked at her with at least some fraction of wanting, even if veiled. Not anymore. And it broke her heart. A heart she hadn’t realized was so completely wrapped up in his—until he tore it away.
“It sounds pretty cut-and-dried, Ariel.” Jones crossed his arms.
Cam took up the interrogation. “So why’d you do it?”
“I didn’t do it.” God, she couldn’t get the words out fast enough. She’d denied it the moment Jones dropped the bomb on them, but hadn’t even known how to explain it until after talking to her boss. Though her brother asked the question, Ariel aimed her answer at Dylan. “I swear I didn’t. I was hacked.”
“You’re telling me that some random hacker happened across your private photo cache, looked through all of it and then got smart enough to release Dylan’s pic to coincide with our big show in Vegas? Because that doesn’t sound coincidental to me. Or spontaneous. That comes off as stone-cold PR strategy.”
“It was. But not mine,” she hastened to add. “My phone automatically backs up to a server in my office, because ninety-nine percent of the photos I take are for clients. Because it is for work, my boss was able to get our IT department to use the administrative override to get into my account.”
“Why would they? Why would they suddenly get a yen to look through your photos without asking? Something set them off, Ariel.”
Jones scowled. “You’re not telling us everything.”
True. She’d hoped that she wouldn’t have to do so. That they’d be as outraged by Bart’s breach of privacy as she had been when he admitted to it on the phone ten minutes ago. That it would be enough to fracture the hard line they held against her. No such luck. “I guess I accidentally might have led him to believe that such a photo existed.”
Dylan let his head roll backward slowly. The cracking noise his neck made reverberated through the charged atmosphere like a bolt of lightning. “You guess? Might have? Stop dancing around the truth. Tell me exactly when and why you decided to sell me out.”
Never. She’d never do that. Not to any client, but especially not to him. “Dylan, I didn’t. I swear. Right after we took that photo, when you were busy with the sound check, Bart called to threaten me again. Said you weren’t getting enough coverage yet. That I hadn’t pushed the limits enough with making the world see you in the reverse of your old, perfect image. And if I didn’t get you as the lead story on every entertainment show and website within a week, I’d be fired.”
His glacial gaze scanned across her face, probing to be sure she spoke the truth. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
That one was easy. Embarrassment at being seen as a failure…which, come to think of it, was the same fear Dylan had just shared with her an hour ago. How come he’d been brave enough to do so, and she hadn’t? It didn’t matter now, though. With a helpless shrug, Ariel said, “What good would it have done?”
“He can’t threaten you over my good or bad behavior. You’re not my keeper.”
“He can. He did. It scared me. If I lose this job, I’m not sure anyone would go out on a limb to give me a third chance. So, out of desperation, I asked him if a naked photo of you would be enough to satisfy him. I would’ve asked you first before giving it to anyone. Cropped it, of course, to hide…things that should stay private. Once he jumped all over it, I realized that I’d made a mistake. I backpedaled. I told him it didn’t exist. I was just looking for parameters.”
It’d been the stupidest mistake she’d ever made. Why hadn’t she just deleted the photo? Well, Ariel knew why. She’d kept it for purely selfish reasons, to have as a reminder of their time together. As if she could ever forget a second of time spent with Dylan Royce.
Jones whistled between his teeth. “He saw right through you, didn’t he? That’s why he hacked your account.”
“I didn’t know. I didn’t know it happened or that he released it.”
Dylan strode forward until he was so close that she had to tilt her head back to look him in the eye. In a low voice, he said, “You picked your career over us.”
Us? Us implied forever. Us implied a commitment, a white picket fence, at least a shared cup on the bathroom sink with two toothbrushes in it. It had been less than a week since Dylan had convinced her that he wouldn’t dump her once they slept together. She believed him, but that was a long, long way from accepting the possibility that he was truly in it for the long term. Especially with him not even knowing what he’d be doing or where he’d be going in a month.
No. He didn’t get to lay that at her feet. “There is no official ‘us,’” she said hotly. “There’s just a right now. And I only asked the question for your career, to get you noticed.”
“Don’t lie. Don’t bother.”
It wasn’t a lie. She had been thinking of Dylan. Riptide’s sound check had been in the background. She’d been able to hear Dylan’s voice, watch him move sinuously across the stage. He deserved attention, notoriety, platinum album sales. He deserved it all. What if she hadn’t tried her absolute hardest?
“I worried,” she said, choosing her words with extreme caution, because it seemed this might be her last chance to have this conversation with Dylan, “that I’d held you back. That because I’m falling for you, I had been, um, proprietary about your body. Which is a huge selling point. You’re young, hot, and that makes women want to buy your music. I worried I’d gone soft.”
He strode back to the guys, huffing out a breath. “That’s what you call acting ethically? Going soft?”
“No. I mean, only for a minute. The concern crossed my mind, and that’s why I blurted out what I did. But the minute the words came out, I knew they were a mistake. I never intended for this to happen. You have to believe me.”
“Fear of being fired can’t drive every decision you make, Ariel. Your job isn’t your life.”
“Yes, it is.” She jabbed her index finger at each of them in turn. “You three, of all people, should know that. In this business, we live, sleep, eat and breathe our jobs. There’s almost zero delineation between working and the rest of life. I know I screwed up. I’m so sorry. I’ll do everything I can to make it right.”
“Millions of people have already seen my dick, Ariel. How are you going to make that right? The only thing that can be done is make damn sure that you never see it again.” Dylan grabbed his key card off the coffee table. “I’ll be down in the venue. I need music right now. I need to make music.”
“Go ahead.” Cam nodded.
Dylan walked out, leaving the confetti of her tattered heart in his wake. Jones grabbed the six-pack on the bar and jogged after him.
Once the door snicked shut, Cam said, “You fucked up, Ari.”
The disappointment in her brother’s voice unleashed the flood of tears she’d worked so hard to choke back. With a racking sob, she threw herself into his arms. After a long exhale, he began patting her back.
“He h-h-hates me,” she got out between sniffles.
Cam pressed a kiss on the top of her head. “Right now, for sure.”
Surprised laughter broke through the gasps and cries enough for Ariel to get herself back under control. Falling apart in front of Cam wasn’t ideal. But at least she hadn’t let loose the waterworks in front of everybody else. “You suck at cheering up.”
“Maybe that’s because I’m not done yelling at you yet. That was one hell of a bad decision, Ari.”
“Before you go back to being Riptide’s lead singer, could you just be my brother for a few more minutes? I really need that guy right now.”
“Okay.” Hands on her shoulders, Cam pushed her away to look her in the eyes. “As your brother, I gotta ask. Did you really not know?”
Ariel shook her head so violently her neck cracked. “I swear. I pinkie swear. I swear on Mom’s famous strawberry waffles.”
“Then I’m sorry—as your brother—that your boss just royally screwed you over.”
“Thanks.”
“And as much as I don’t love the
idea of anyone boning my little sis, I’m sorry this split up you and Dylan. You were a good pair.”
That was too fast and far a leap for her to accept. “You really think we’re over? Just like that?”
“Uh, yeah.”
Why did Cam have to sound so sure? She burrowed back into his embrace, needing the comfort. “Doesn’t everybody get one mistake? A do-over? If I apologize enough times?”
“You broke his trust. Which was a damn special gift that he gave you in the first place. I’ll book you another room for tonight. You can’t stay here.”
“Thank you.” Ariel sniffled back the last of her tears. “And I know this reflects poorly on Riptide. I’ll call in every favor I can—just tell me what message you want to put out. I’ll spend all night on the phone fixing this.”
“That’s up to D. He gets to make that call. When he does, I’ll let you know. You’d better not come to the show tonight, either. Give him some space.”
Desperate for an excuse to see him, to talk to him, to apologize a million more times, Ariel grabbed at the only thing she could. “What about the raffle?”
“Kylie will handle it. The last thing Dylan needs right now is his ex-girlfriend handing him off to women who probably have that picture saved as the new wallpaper on their phone.”
So she couldn’t start fixing it…yet. Which left her plenty of time to either wallow, or figure out how to fix their broken relationship. Or if it’d be more caring all the way around if she left him alone. Because this decision had to be about what was best for Dylan. Not what she wanted so desperately in her heart.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Three o’clock in the morning on the Strip meant it was bright enough out on the balcony that Dylan could read the label on his beer bottle. The same bottle he’d been nursing for half an hour. Jones had encouraged him to go on a bender. He’d said it was both good sense and a time-honored tradition to drink yourself stupid when a woman let you down.
The Reverse of Perfection (Bad Decisions Book 2) Page 10
