Rebel Rockstar

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Rebel Rockstar Page 10

by Marci Fawn


  I really hope that photographer didn’t get a good shot of her, despite what I said to him—I don’t like the idea of the whole world getting to see my beautiful girlfriend like that! Especially not in a sleazy men’s magazine…

  “Oh, shit,” Jem calls out, tossing her head back in ecstasy. As she shuts her eyes and begins to lose herself, I realize that I need her looking at me. I need to feel connected to her for this to be real. I like seeing her face fully contorted in pleasure, and I don’t want to miss another chance of experiencing that.

  “Look at me,” I plead. “I want to see you.” At my request, she snaps her eyes open and sends me the sweetest smile I’ve ever seen. As she rides me, angling me for her pleasure, I an intensity grows in her face. She’s growing closer by the second.

  Just as I’m about to explode, she screams out my name as she orgasms and crumbles above me, fueling my own pleasure in the process.

  As we lay there, panting next to one another, I feel grateful all over again that she’s giving me another shot, that she hasn’t let those silly rumors bother her. But something else is plaguing me. There was something about the way Lola spoke to Jem on the phone that has me worried—and I’m not sure what for. Am I concerned that she’s going to twist things? Or is it because of what she said about heading down a self-destructive path herself? When I first met Lola, she seemed like a happy, well-rounded girl. Definitely not someone who would kiss her friend’s boyfriend. Something must have changed inside of her. But what?

  Or who?

  It’s a mystery I need to solve.

  17

  Jem

  A couple of days later we prepare for yet another stop. This time it’s more of a historical island, rather than the picturesque heaven we were in last time, but I’m excited all the same. It feels like a nice getaway, stepping off the ship into another place and another culture, and I can’t wait to do that again. And after all that we’ve been through recently, I really feel like Nate and I could use the time to reconnect. The last stop-off worked wonders for us, and I could really use that sort of luck again.

  I’ve been focusing on Nate, trying to push everything else to one side for the time being, but it keeps cropping up in my mind over and over again. The awful photo shoot, Kim’s annoyance at my “diva attitude,” the weirdness with Lola, even my confusion about Tonya. They’re things I’m going to have to deal with, but I’m not quite ready for them just yet.

  Nate knocks on my door and comes in to see me. “Are you ready?” I smile at his cute t-shirt-and-board-shorts combo. With me in my pale, floaty summer dress, we really will look like the sweetest couple ever.

  “I’m ready.” I slip my hand into his, and we head toward the exit. Before we can get there, Nate’s manager Paul comes rushing in, holding a newspaper above his head. He’s red and sweaty and looks more stressed out than I’ve ever seen anyone look before.

  “What the fuck is this, Nate?” he cries out in frustration. “Haven’t I had enough bullshit from you? And then you go and do this to me? What about your new image? Everything I’ve been working for? You’ll never work again at this fucking rate!”

  “Whoa,” Nate replies, his eyes wide with shock. “Whoa, Paul. What the hell are you talking about? What’s going on here?”

  “The fucking headlines.” He slams the paper down in front of him. “Nate Romero kissing a fucking minor! Nate fucking drunk out of his mind again. Nate drinking with a fucking underage starlet.”

  I stare down at the page, my heart in my throat. There’s an image of Nate and Lola kissing. To me it seems clear that what Nate said is actually the truth—that this was only a split second of awkward shock before he shoved her away (I can see it in his face)—but to the rest of the world this looks bad. Really bad. Combine that with the images of the whiskey, and the drunken photographs, and the quotes from a “reliable source” and it doesn’t spell for a happy ending, to say the least.

  “Oh, my God.” I gasp, then clap my hand over my mouth. Are the horrible things that keep happening to us ever going to end? Every time things start looking up, something else is thrown our way. “What’s going to happen?” I know full well how a story can spiral out of control. The media leaps on things quickly and it snowballs before you can even defend yourself. People get involved and sell fake stories supporting what’s been said, just to earn themselves some cash. I can already see this finishing things off for Nate, and I have no idea what I can do about that. I’m dreading what the Internet is already saying about this. “Can we speak to Lola? Maybe if she goes public…”

  “It’s too fucking late for that,” Paul exclaims, running his hands through his hair. “There’s a fucking picture here. You can clearly fucking see them drinking and kissing. Nothing anyone says will help with this.”

  “I didn’t kiss her!” Nate shouts angrily. I think it’s finally hitting him what this could mean for him and his career. “She kissed me. I pushed her off. That’s it. Yes, I was drinking—I might have acted like a fucking dickhead—but I didn’t let Lola drink anything. This is bullshit.”

  “You have a reputation. This isn’t going to surprise many people.” Paul sighs and sits down in the nearest seat. “I’m sorry, Nate, but the event’s organizer has already seen this. She’s made her decision—her cruise ships can’t be associated with something like this. It could damage them forever.”

  “What does that mean?” I can hear the anxiety in his voice, which absolutely petrifies me. I have no idea what’s about to happen. “What’s next?”

  “Well, you’re off the cruise, for starters.” Paul holds his head in his hands, and for a second I feel sorry for him. That is, until I realize the magnitude of what he’s saying. Nate’s leaving. He’s been kicked off the ship, which means I’m going to have to do the final three weeks without him. I’d leave with him if I could, but I know for a fact that I’m under contract—Kim made it very clear before I stepped on board that I would have to do the entire time, no matter what. “Then we’re going to have to have some serious meetings with your public relations team. See where we can go next…”

  I tune him out as he continues to plan Nate’s future, wondering what the hell this is going to mean for us. We just got to a good place, but I’ve been very worried about what the future holds. Now I’m not even going to get that final time to solidify things between us. Plus, we’re going to have this scandal to deal with. Not to be selfish, but how will it reflect on my career if I’m the girl he cheated on with a minor? Whatever the true story is, that’s how the world will see it.

  Kim won’t allow it. I don’t want her to rule my life, but there’s no doubt that she does—all for the good of my future, apparently. She’ll never go for this, no matter how many times I tell her that I’m in love. I’ll be a washed-up nothing in moments.

  Before I know it, the tears are flowing down my face. I’m absolutely gutted that I’m going to have to say goodbye to Nate right now, and I’m also upset about what he’s going to have to face alone, without me. The vultures will tear him apart—and that’s without even considering the Internet. People online are vile at the best of times, never mind when something like this has happened. They’ll be calling him all the names under the sun, and there won’t be a damn thing I can do about it.

  I grip his hand, wishing I had the answers, wishing I could say anything to make it right. But what the hell can I say to this? I don’t think anyone could make any of us feel better right now.

  “You’re going to have to come out the back way with me now, Nate,” Paul finishes sternly. “There are a lot of paparazzi waiting out there, and I’d much rather avoid photographs if I can.”

  “Yeah, me too,” Nate murmurs sadly.

  “I’ll come with you,” I announce quickly. “I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

  “I’m sorry. You can’t,” Paul jumps in. “Kim wants you to stay here. She doesn’t want you to get involved in this at all. Plus, there’s nothing you can do anyway. We’ll be
racing into a car and getting away from here as quickly as possible. We have so much to do. We can’t hang around. Sorry, Jem. I know this isn’t easy.”

  Nate drags me into a hug, and I’m racked with sobs against him. This is too much. It’s too painful, and I won’t even get to say a proper goodbye to him. This has to be the worst thing to ever happen to me!

  “Come on, Nate.” Paul eventually tears us apart. “We really have to go. We can’t wait any longer.”

  Then he’s gone, and I’m standing on this massive ship by myself, weeping like a pathetic mess and wondering what’s next for me.

  18

  Nate

  The next few weeks pass in a torturous blur. Of course, as with all media stories like this one, everyone jumps on it and it quickly spirals out of control. I can’t even stay at my own home—people have been camped outside it for days, and they’re showing no sign of letting up. It’s a freaking nightmare! It’s like a circus that I didn’t sign up for, and that I have no chance of escaping from.

  Paul has been running around like a headless chicken trying to sort everything out, but it seems like a hopeless cause. No one wants to have anything to do with me anymore. The advertising campaign for an aftershave he had lined up for me based on my new clean-cut image has fallen through. Even the talk shows I’ve been asked to go on have been a no-go because they all just want to tear me to shreds. Paul has batted away every single offer, telling me that silence is the best strategy right now. I’m prepared to do interviews, to defend myself, but he’s having none of it.

  I haven’t spoken to Jem or even Lola since all of this started. I have the feeling that if I could just communicate with her, she would be able to help me fix this hellish nightmare, but Paul won’t back down and agree, no matter what I say. He keeps telling me that he knows best, and maybe he’s right. He certainly knows the media better than me, at any rate.

  Unfortunately, none of it makes any difference. Nothing Paul and my amazing PR team do helps, because after a while I’m served with a notice that the prosecutor is bringing charges against me. I’m being tried for inappropriate activity with a minor. This trial will end my career for sure. No one can come back from a scandal this huge.

  I have no idea where my life will head after this. I try to imagine myself after a stint in prison, trying desperately to get a job, but my imagination is too stunted to make that happen. I even attempt to picture myself getting the charges dropped and trying to restart my career, but in all honesty that prospect isn’t much better either. People always say that there’s no smoke without a fire.

  I’m a little shocked that my current team has stuck with me this long—I’m sure there must be a get-out clause in the contracts (I really should have read those) in case of subjects like this.

  “Right, Nate.” Paul looks older by the day as more and more stress piles up on his shoulders. He’s currently preparing to leave me for the second time since all of this happened. I’m in a crappy motel, one that no one would suspect me of staying in, and he’s been with me for the majority of the time. But now he needs to go and hire a legal team for the upcoming trial, and that’s something he can’t do while he’s also babysitting me. “I’m off. Stay here, get some sleep, and do not get into any trouble.”

  “Trust me,” I reply wearily. “I have no intention of doing that.” I wouldn’t go outside even if I wanted to. Who knows who I might bump into? And, since people seem desperate to get a story out of me, it could never go anything but badly. “I’m just going to rest.” I feel like I’ve done nothing but sleep, yet I’m still tired all the damn time.

  “I’ll be back in the morning, okay?” Paul has always been a hardass with me in the past, but he’s been great recently, and I’m grateful to have him. I would have fallen apart without him.

  As soon as I’m alone, I lie down on the cool sheets and allow a single tear to fall down my cheek. All I’ve wanted for a very long time is Jem, and I almost had her. She was practically my girl all over again. Then this had to fucking happen. Thinking of her on that ship without me is killing me. I have no idea if she’ll want anything to do with me after this. If she’ll even be allowed to go anywhere near me.

  I’m terrified that this will be the thing that ruins every aspect of my life forever…

  After the first day of my trial, I really am falling apart. The prosecution absolutely tore me to shreds, bringing up every single nasty aspect of my past—as if those things somehow prove that I’d fool around with a minor. I tried to defend myself at every twist and turn, but everything I said just made it worse. The problem is, I have done some bad things in my time, but back then I never thought it would come back to haunt me. I would have behaved a lot differently had I known this was going to be my present.

  As I step outside the courthouse, a million and one cameras flash in my face, and questions are yelled at me from every direction:

  “How do you defend your behavior?”

  “How do you feel like the trial is going?”

  “What’s next for you?”

  “Did you know she was underage?”

  “What do you have to say about Ana Rogan?”

  Ana Rogan is someone I went to school with. She sold a story about me doing something similar before with her. It’s all a complete fabrication, but of course that doesn’t matter to the rest of the world. The fact that she’s obviously a money-hungry bitch means nothing. I’ve never spoken to her, never mind anything else, but it’s useless. I’m the target of the witch hunt, and that’s all everyone cares about. Ana Rogan can say whatever the fuck she wants about me, and the rest of the world will lap it up as pure fact.

  By the time I get to my hotel room, which is a brand-new one (I’m having to move on a daily basis now), I can’t do anything but collapse onto the bed in a stunned silence. For the first time since all of this happened, I’m starting to think that I might not be able to get the truth out there. People might be convinced that I’m guilty. I could end up in prison. I know I considered that in the past, but only as a hypothetical outcome. Now I’ve realized that it could happen. Dealings with a minor have terrible consequences, and I might have to face them.

  I imagine myself in prison scrubs, and it fills me with chills. I could be locked up with some of the worst criminals alive for something I didn’t even do!

  What I can’t understand is why Lola isn’t here. She’s supposed to be the reason for all of this, but there hasn’t been any sign of her. She could still be on the cruise for all I know. I never bothered to ask if she was being kicked off too. It makes no sense for all of this to be happening without her. They’ll have to call her to the witness stand at some point, right? This entire trial cannot happen without her. That would just be too unfair for words.

  Oh, God. It might be the solution to all of this, but I can’t bear the thought of having to face her up there. I picture Lola discussing our friendship, that night out, the kiss…it fills me with dread. Even if she has to do it from another room it’ll be awful. Especially if they’re as rude to her as they’ve been to me.

  I feel so cut off from the world that it’s unreal. I can’t speak to anyone. I can’t switch on the television for fear of seeing my face on the news. I certainly can’t go online to the trolls’ playground. It’s just me, stuck in a revolving door of four white walls, just waiting, with my future in limbo.

  Waiting…

  Waiting…

  Waiting…

  This is a goddamn mess. It’s like a nightmare that I can’t wake up from, and I cannot wait for all of this to be over. To be honest, I’m at the point where the anticipation is the worst part. I’d rather know, either way, how this is going to go so I can start preparing myself for the future. Even if that future is the worst possible outcome…

  With that thought in mind, I spin around in my bed and grab some paper off the nightstand. If I do go to jail, then Jem needs to know how I feel. I might not be able to say it in person—I can’t imagine that she’
ll want to visit me—but I can write her a letter. I’ll ask Paul to deliver it for me. That way, at least I’ll have managed to say goodbye.

  Dear Jem,

  I’m so sorry that this has all happened. I hate that you got dragged into this mess with me. I just want to say that I understand if you can’t see me anymore, but I want you to know that you were, and always will be, the best thing that ever happened to me. Our road was rocky, but it was amazing and I’ll never forget all the great memories you gave me. Our time on the island was the best few days of my life, and I’ll never ever forget them.

  I’m glad we found our way back to one another—even if it was only for a short time. You’ve always been perfect for me, and if you decide that you need a clean break from us to keep yourself happy, then I hope you have the best life ever. You really do deserve it. Just know that you’ll always be in my heart. I’ll never forget you.

  I love you. I always have and I always will.

  Nate xo

  I know my note is a little morose and worst-case scenario, but I need to plan for the bad now. It really could go that way, so I need to be prepared. As long as Jem knows how important she is to me, and how much she’s affected my life, I’ll be able to cope with the rest. I’ll be able to tackle it all in a much calmer way.

  At least, I hope I will…

 

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