by B. B. Hamel
She smiles a little as I walk toward her. “Chase, look—”
“No, hold on a second. I want to tell you something.”
She bites her lip. I stop inches in front of her. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you out there,” I say softly. “Is this stupid? Is what we’re doing fucked up?”
“No,” she whispers. “It’s not fucked up. Maybe it’s stupid. I don’t know.”
I want to tell her how I feel. I didn’t even know that I had the words for it, but standing here in front of her, looking into her beautiful eyes, I know it’s obvious. It’s been obvious since the start.
She’s all I can think about. She’s all I care about.
This was supposed to be business. She helped me fix my image and I gave her a recording contract. We’d help each other then move on, simple, easy.
But being with her opened something up inside of me that I’ve been missing. Maybe I’ve just been denying the truth, trying to ignore how I really feel, but I know it’s just not possible anymore.
I can’t run from what I want. I’m not going to. I’m not that kind of fucking man.
I didn’t know I had the words. I didn’t know I could explain it, speak it, whisper it. But now that I’m here, standing in front of her, I know the truth.
“Delia,” I say softly, “I—”
“Wait.” She interrupts me quickly, eyes wide. “We need to talk.”
I frown slightly. The other guys come into the room, Landon making some joke, Nathan laughing at it. Joss and Grace are lost in each other’s eyes.
“Come on.” I take her hand, pull her behind me. We leave the green room and it takes me another couple minutes before I spot an empty storage space. We slip inside, close the door, and flip on a light.
It’s full of chairs and concession stand supplies. Delia drifts over toward a rack of paper napkins.
“I feel like we haven’t been alone in a while,” I say, smiling a little.
“Have we ever?”
I frown, and shrug. “Probably.”
“Listen, we have to talk.”
“Okay. Let’s talk.”
She hesitates, clearly wrestling with something. She looks away from me, not able to meet my eye.
I can feel my stomach start to sink. I know this look.
“I talked to Karl,” she says finally. “About… what I can do.”
“Does he have an idea?” I don’t feel hopeful, though. Not based on the way she’s looking at me now.
“He made a deal with me.”
I raise an eyebrow. “He did what?”
It comes spilling out of her like a torrent. “He made me promise to divorce you and walk away from all this and give up my recording contract. He said he’d be able to fix all this crap online about me if I did it.”
I stare at her for a second. “He can’t make TMI stop publishing. I mean, if he could… why wouldn’t he?”
“Because he wants me to leave you.” She stares at me, almost pleading. “He’s afraid I’ll divorce you and take your money.”
“You’ll do what?” I feel like everything is crumbling now, falling apart beneath my feet.
“We never signed a prenup,” she says. “He wants me to leave you and give up my contract. Then he’ll fix it… I don’t know how, but he said he can.”
“He’s trying to blackmail you?”
“I don’t know. Not exactly.”
“Jesus, Delia…” I shake my head. “I can’t believe he’d do this.”
“I’m not lying.”
“I know you aren’t. It’s just so crazy. I knew Karl was controlling, but this is…”
“I’m sorry,” she says, turning away again. “I didn’t know what else to do. I thought I’d tell you the truth and let you decide.”
“Decide what?”
“Whether I stay or go.”
She turns back to me and I blink, staring at her. It takes me a second to understand.
If she goes and gives up her contract, Karl can fix the online stuff… and that’ll be good for me. All of this continued attention is what’s really wrecking me right now. If it just moved on, I could sink back from the spotlight.
But if she stays, that spotlight stays on with her.
I stare at her for a second, but I know there’s no real choice here. The decision is obvious. I’ve known I was going to have to make this choice from the start and just delaying it now is only going to hurt everyone involved even more.
I step closer to her. She doesn’t move as I tip her chin up toward me.
“You’re not going anywhere,” I whisper. I kiss her, soft at first, but slowly I pull her tighter.
She comes close against me, hugging me hard and kissing me deep. I knew from the start, from the moment we first kissed in Vegas, that I’d never let her go. No matter how things got, no matter what happened, I’d always keep her.
She’s mine now. Nothing can change that, especially not my fucking manager.
We break apart. “Are you sure?” she whispers. “I can go. I won’t make a fuss.”
“No,” I say sharply. “You’re staying.”
“What do we do then?”
I smile slightly. “I have an idea, but you need to trust me.”
“Okay,” she says. “I trust you.”
“And I’m in love with you.”
The words come out without any thought behind them. They’re true, utterly true.
It’s the most honest thing I’ve ever said.
She stares at me, tears in her eyes.
“You don’t have to cry,” I say, smiling sadly.
“I’m just happy. I love you too.”
I grin and pull her against me. I hug her tight, feeling so stupid.
I don’t know why I waited so long to say it. Maybe our relationship is unconventional, maybe things haven’t exactly gone as planned, but it doesn’t matter.
I found her. That’s all I care about.
I kiss her again, again. It’s like I can’t help myself. She laughs, giddy, and I can’t stop smiling.
“I love you,” I say again. “I really love you.”
“I love you.” She kisses me and I hold her tight.
We stay like that in silence, a single perfect moment.
“What now?” she asks.
“I have an idea. But we’ll have to keep it to ourselves, okay?”
“Okay. I’m guessing Karl won’t like it.”
“Nope. He’s gonna flip.”
“Good.” She grins at me. “Screw him.”
“Come on.” I take her hand and lead her out of the storage room. We head back to the others, where a big party is starting to rage on.
Landon grins and nods at me. Nathan is chatting up a girl. Joss and Grace are sitting together in a corner.
I pull Delia close against me and breathe it all in, because I don’t know if anything can survive what’s next.
21
Chase
“Okay, you got me here.” Ava adjusts her glasses, clears her throat. “What was so important?”
I’m so nervous I could fucking puke. I’ve never done something like this before, let alone on my own. Any media interviews I’ve done were set up and vetted by Karl beforehand, but we can’t exactly involve him in this.
He’d flip fucking shit.
“We wanted to tell you a story,” I say to Ava. “An honest and real story.”
“Okay.” She taps her pen on her notebook. There’s a recorder on the table between us. We’re sitting in a Starbucks down the street from where the bus is parked. I’m wearing a hat pulled down low and Delia’s hood is up.
We don’t want to be recognized, not now, not when we’re about to torch our careers.
Romeo and Juliet, drinking the poison. Except, well, in this version we’re together and doing it at the same time.
“I first met Delia back when we were kids,” I tell her.
“That part is true,” Delia adds. “We really were good friends.”
“U
p until college. We drifted apart after that, didn’t talk for years.”
Ava raises an eyebrow. “Until?”
“Until that article about me came out on TMI and I decided to get married in order to help rehab my image.”
The words come out of me in a rush. It’s crazy to say them to Ava with a recorder running and her pen out. She immediately stops the recorder and stares at me.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” she asks after a beat. “Is this a joke?”
“No joke,” I say. “This is real.”
“Are you…. Sure you want this on record?”
“On the record,” I confirm, nodding, my stomach still a nervous mess.
“Okay.” She takes a breath, restarts the recorder. “So, this marriage then. It’s not real?”
“Not real,” Delia confirms. “Well, it wasn’t at first.”
“It’s very much real now,” I say.
“Okay, okay. Start from the beginning. How did this even happen?”
I grin at Delia before telling the story. I start from the moment I came up with the idea and I take it up through the wedding in Vegas. “And that’s about it,” I finish, taking a deep breath and looking at Delia. “Anything to add?”
“That’s pretty much it.” She hesitates. “Oh, the kiss was awesome.”
I laugh softly as Ava stares at the two of us. “Let me understand. Chase, a bad article came out about you and you decided to… get married? A fake marriage for publicity?”
“Yes,” I say. “Happens all the time in Hollywood.”
“This isn’t Hollywood, and they never admit it when it does.”
I shrug a little. “Obviously I’m not very good at this.”
She laughs softly, shaking her head in disbelief. “Why are you telling me all this?”
“Because we’re tired of the lie,” Delia says. “And because it’s not a lie anymore.”
“It’s not?”
“No,” I say. “It started fake, but…”
“But he loves me now.” Delia leans against me.
I laugh and kiss her. “Yeah, I do.”
Ava can’t help but smile at that. “You two got into a fake marriage, but it turned into a real one.”
“Pretty much,” I confirm.
“How does that even happen?” she asks.
“Slowly and then all at once,” Delia says, and laughs. “That’s how it felt for me, at least.”
“For me, I knew from the start. I knew it the second we kissed.” I know this is career suicide, but I still can’t stop smiling.
It’s like a burden is lifted from my shoulders. Ava listens as we talk more, telling her about everything, about the articles and the pressure it all put on Delia, about almost quitting this entirely. We leave out the part where Karl blackmailed her, of course, but we tell her everything else.
We’re completely open and honest. It’s refreshing, finally not hiding from what we’ve been doing, what we are. I hold Delia’s hand the whole time, and I know she’s shaking, terrified of what this is going to do to Slide, but I don’t care.
I told the guys what we were going to do. Nathan was pissed, Landon was neutral, and Joss said it was the right move. In the end, I think this is what’s best for everyone.
Maybe they’ll have to replace me. I wouldn’t blame them if they did. I want Slide to continue and I don’t want them to have to quit the band just because I made a bad decision.
But this is my decision. I want what I have with Delia to be real, and I can’t keep this bottled up if we’re going to get there.
Ava listens patiently, makes some notes, and looks pretty incredulous the whole time. When we finally finish the whole story, she leans back.
“So you two are happy now,” she says. “Why bother telling the truth?”
“We don’t want this to be fake anymore,” I say. “And I think part of that is coming clean.”
“Plus, we’ll control the truth now,” Delia adds. “No more worrying about what the media thinks about us. Now you all know the truth and we can move on with our lives.”
“I see.” Ava shakes her head. “Well, it’s the most insane story I’ve ever heard, but… you two look happy. I wish you both the best of luck. I’m rooting for you.”
“Thanks, Ava,” I say. We shake hands, she turns off the recorder, and she leaves.
I watch her go for a second before Delia speaks up. “Was that the right decision?”
“Who knows.” I sigh, tilt her chin toward me, and kiss her. “All I know is, I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“Think Karl will keel over when he reads her article?”
“Probably.” She grins wickedly. “I hope we’re there when he spots it.”
“Me too.” I stand and stretch a little before helping her to her feet. “What do we do now?” I ask.
“Let’s go back and finish the tour.”
“Okay.” I hold her hand as we leave the Starbucks. We walk down the street together, back toward the tour bus.
I squeeze her hand. The truth is out in the world now, and there’s nothing else we can do about it. No more worrying, no more stressing. The truth is setting us free.
No more pressure. No more worry.
Just Delia, and how much I love her.
“We’ll be okay,” she says, looking up at me. “I promise. I’ll love you anyway, even if we’re not.”
“I’ll be fine as long as we’re together.”
She smiles and kisses me on the cheek. We keep walking together, and neither of us looks back.
22
Delia
One Year Later
I don’t think anyone could’ve foreseen the absolute shitstorm that happened after Ava Blue’s article came out in the Rolling Stone.
People were pissed, shocked. Fans felt betrayed. We got angry letters full of death threats. Karl canceled the last two dates, afraid that we were in actual danger.
I didn’t care. I had Chase.
It was like we existed in a blissful little bubble. While the world exploded around us, all I wanted to do was touch my husband, the man I love.
As soon as the dates were canceled, we left for Europe. Nathan was still pissed, but Joss and Landon seemed okay with everything. “He’ll come around,” Chase said about Nathan, and he was right.
We traveled for three months. I can’t even remember now where we went exactly, but it was all over. Brussels, Prague, Helsinki, Bruges, London, Paris. We lived in Munich for two weeks, and we even rented some studio time.
It was creative, it was beautiful. We fucked like newlyweds, ate and drank like morons, and made a lot of music.
I think it was the best time of my life, those three months.
I couldn’t keep away from the internet entirely, though. I saw a lot of what people were saying. Thinkpieces came out about our fake marriage, about the pressures rock stars face, all that shit. And then the counter thinkpieces came out, denouncing us, talking about how we’re awful liars, and so on.
Then more couples came out. At least two prominent couples admitted to being PR stunts, and although they were both already divorced, people went ballistic.
The whole world was slowly blowing up, but we didn’t care. I had Chase and that was all that mattered.
Eventually though, that had to come to an end. We came back to the States and Chase immediately bought a house in Philly. We moved in and started our life in earnest. He rented time at a local studio where we both made music together, and we basically did whatever we wanted.
I guess it is still pretty perfect.
I roll out of bed, blinking away the sleep. Chase is already up, like he always is. I can smell coffee on downstairs.
I use the bathroom, brush my teeth, and head down. He smiles at me, looks at me like I’m the only woman in the world, like he always does. I get that same thrill when I kiss him.
“Hungry?” he asks. “I made pancakes.”
“My favorite.”
“I was thinking,” he says softly.
“Uh oh.” I raise an eyebrow. “You were thinking?”
“About the songs we’ve been working on.”
I raise an eyebrow. “What about them?”
“I think they’re ready.”
I don’t say anything. We’ve been making music together this past year, and while I think it’s really good, we both agreed to keep it under wraps until our notoriety died down.
We’re still in the news sometimes, but not really nearly as much as we were six months ago. Now it’s mostly a passing mention when a new Hollywood couple gets a divorce and admits to being fake.
“I don’t know,” I say.
“Trust me. It’s good.” He leans forward, kisses me. “I can send the stuff to my guy at the label and just see what he thinks.”
“What if he hates it?”
“Then he hates it.” Chase shrugs. “So what? We can send it to someone else, or we can start our own label, or do whatever we want.”
I bite my lip. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
I take a breath. “Okay. Send it out.”
“Awesome.” He kisses me again, and as he pulls back, the doorbell rings. He hesitates but pads down the hall to answer.
I hear him talking to a delivery guy and sign for a package, still digging into my pancakes. I’m nervous about our songs potentially going public. They’re raw and emotional and some of the best work I’ve ever done, but I’m afraid to share it.
Really, I’m afraid to fail, but I don’t know how I could with Chase on my side.
He comes back in a minute later, carrying a big, rectangular package. It’s long and thin, and he places it down on the floor next to me.
“For you,” he says, totally mystified. “I dunno who it’s from.”
I get down off my chair and kneel in front of it. I don’t recognize the name or the return address. I rip it open carefully, pulling open one end.
“It’s a guitar case.” I slide it out of the box. It’s wrapped in plastic bubble wrap, and I have to slowly unroll it. When I’m done, I’m looking at a vaguely familiar black case.
