reputation

by Dr. Rebecca Sharp

  Ash was sprawled on the chair next to the couch in the sitting room that adjoined the bedroom. The same chair that I’d been sitting in the night before while his little sister rode my dick, her breasts bouncing in my face.

  My head ducked for a moment. Fuck. Pull your shit together, Parker.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, stepping farther into the room.

  “Please, take a seat,” Bruce said, motioning to the couch.

  Ash still hadn’t said a word.

  “Is someone going to tell me what the fuck is going on?” It looked like someone had died—someone Ash hated, the way his expression was pitch black and blank—like black steel. The look was so eerily calm that if someone hadn’t already died, they were about to.

  “Yes.” Bruce raised a hand and cleared his throat into his fist. “We’ve asked you here because there’s a problem.”

  “What do you mean? Problem with what?”

  “With Blake. With the plan.”

  My heart thumped in my chest like a gavel coming down to announce my guilt.

  “Mr. Tyler,” he continued with a flick of his narrowed eyes over to Ash, “has been contacted by some members of the press. They’ve found out that this whole thing is a sham.”

  “What? How the fuck did that happen?” I dropped onto the couch, yanking off my hat and pulling my hair back from my face.

  Not what I was expecting to hear. And nowhere in the realm of what I thought was possible. Very few people knew that this had all been for show. There was no way they could have found out unless someone told them.

  My mind raced through and dodged thoughts like they were linebackers on a football field as I tried to find my way to a solution that kept Blake safely in my arms.

  “The point is that we don’t have a lot of time. They are threatening to go public with this information.” He cleared his throat again, holding up his finger like there was more. Of course there was fucking more. “Let me rephrase. They are going to publish this story one way or another. They’ve given us the night in case we want to be the ones to break the news to the public.”

  I squinted at him. “Awfully fucking considerate of them…”

  Something wasn’t right here.

  I looked to Ash but his eyes were still on Bruce—ignoring me—with the slightest hint of a smile on his face, like he was just waiting for what the man was going to say next.

  “So… how do we tell them? What do we do?” What else could I ask? I wasn’t about to blurt out that it was now the truth and we could tell them that—not without Blake’s permission.

  “We aren’t going to tell them,” he informed me.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You are going to break up with her.”

  The world came to a screeching halt. I couldn’t have heard him right.

  If I was surprised before, well this… this took the fucking cake on that.

  This was like sophomore year in college when we’d played Alabama. Ash had thrown me the ball—a perfect pass; I had everything lined up—the catch, the landing, the path to the end zone. Perfect. I caught the football, my feet touched the ground, and as I turned and pushed off, I ran into a mammoth of a man. I don’t know if it was the angle, the momentum, or if he was just that large, but I bounced right the fuck off of him, falling back to the ground—at least that’s what I assume. As soon as I hit him, I remember the shock registering through my body but then my world went black.

  This was like that. Solid. Out of nowhere. Knocking me back.

  The only consciousness I had was that I was about to lose her.

  “I don’t understand,” I rasped, trying to grasp onto the straws of rationality that screamed at me: They don’t know that what you have is real!

  “I’ve been discussing with Mr. Tyler and we feel that this is the best way to handle the situation,” he replied calmly; I tried not to blame him as he didn’t realize he was asking me to carefully and purposely slice my chest open and take out my heart.

  “Why? Won’t they just publish it anyway?”

  “Unlikely. How would that look?” And here began the reasoning. “Blake Tyler gets her heart broken and the press insists that it was all fake? That would be like them publishing a video of the reporter kicking a puppy, Mr. Parker. They want a good story; they don’t want to destroy their career; they don’t even want to destroy her. They want a sensation and a broken heart is more sensational than fake news.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

  “In fact, I think this will turn out even better than the original plan. It’s one thing to prove that Miss Tyler does have a heart, but to show it being broken? I can’t think of anything better to garner more sympathy or support.”

  This was so fucked up.

  “Wait. What do you mean ‘show it being broken?’”

  And then for the first time in the past fifteen minutes, Ash spoke. “You’re going to break up with her on stage tonight and then ZPP is going to leave the tour.”

  “No.” The word left my mouth like air left my lungs. Without thought. “No fucking way.”

  “Why, Zach?” He questioned, raising an eyebrow at me. “Why would that be a problem? You’ll have saved Blake’s rep and ZPP’s popularity is off the charts. Isn’t that what you’re here for?”

  I glared at him, wondering if he knew—not just what happened, but what he was asking me to do. He dared me. The fucker was daring me to rage that I was in love with his sister and there was no fucking way that I’d publicly break her heart.

  My fists flexed. I wanted to. Every cell of my body itched to.

  Every breath I took geared me for the fight of my life—the fight for my heart.

  But then Bruce spoke again.

  “Mr. Parker,” he said, but I still didn’t take my eyes from Ash. “I’m sure that you’ve seen the stories that have been written about the two of you recently. I’m also sure that being a young, impressionable girl that there is a chance that Miss Tyler may have developed some slight feelings for you. However, if you were to think about the consequences if you do not do this, I believe, knowing how close you are to, well, the whole family, you will understand that this is the right course.”

  “Oh I will?” I ground out, vibrating with the need to hit something—anything—within reach.

  “Miss Tyler has been falsely accused of many things in the recent past—the whole reason we are in this situation. The press has tried to portray her as flighty and uncaring and heartless—unable to keep a boyfriend because she doesn’t care. If they publish this story and reveal that the only relationship that has truly seemed real to the world is the one that was faked, she will never recover from that; her reputation will never recover.”

  I hated him. I hated Bruce Pillars with his pinched eyes and wiry glasses. I hated him for his schemes and the way he directed Blake’s life like she was just a pawn instead of a person. Mostly, though, I hated him because what he said dug its claws into my mind and whispered how it was the truth.

  “For all these momentary issues,” he continued, rubbing his hands together, “Miss Tyler is the most… the best… singer… performer, I’ve ever had the pleasure of working with—and I don’t mean that because of how popular she is or how much money that she makes. I mean that because she truly cares about her fans and how they see her. Every album, every show, she gets up there and she gives them all of her. It’s rare, in this world that is overrun with the weeds of falseness, to find someone who continues to be so true.”

  My throat tightened. Of all the things he could be saying, I wasn’t expecting this. I still hated him for what he was asking me to do, but my anger at him was quickly falling like sand through my grasp.

  “She is a role model to so many. She is truly a light shining brightly in this messy, very messy, night. And for as much as they love her, she also loves them. She does this for them. She has blossomed into the person she is for them.”

  I tore my eyes from Ash, finally raising
them to Bruce who stood there no longer with the calm composure of an agent, but with the rare trace of emotion on his face that validated every word of praise that he spoke.

  “If this story runs, Mr. Parker, all of that will be gone. You and I both know that we all thought this plan was for the best at the time—because we thought it was the only way to show everyone the part of Miss Tyler’s heart that gives easily and freely, to give them proof of what they should already know. If they find out that in order to do that, we had to give them something false, they will crucify her. No. Matter. What.”

  I fought against the words, swinging to hit them away as they flew at me. But it wasn’t enough. I was overwhelmed by them and their stupid fucking truth. The press would eat her alive for doing this. They fed on scandal, fed on it like they’d been starved of food for years. They were gluttons. They were rabid. They would devour this until there was nothing left to her, let alone her reputation. And for a scandal like this, their memory was long. It would forever be a lingering taste on their tongue, easily and expertly able to be recalled at a moment’s notice.

  And Blake, with her heart that was far too big to fit on any sleeve, would be crushed. And I would be responsible.

  Like a crack of thunder, what I needed to do crashed and boomed inside my mind.

  “What do I need to do?” I rasped hoarsely, keeping my eyes trained on Bruce. In my periphery, I saw the small beginning of a satisfied smile tip Ash’s expression.

  And even if we told them the truth? We’d still have to admit that the truth started as a lie—a lie that would still do her in.

  I listened numbly. Words were spoken and just directly absorbed, not heard.

  “She can’t know, Mr. Parker.” The phrase was repeated numerous times. “It needs to look as real as possible. Mr. Tyler has already booked the band flights back to Nashville tonight. The quicker you are gone, the less chance for questions.”

  I stood abruptly. I didn’t need to hear this anymore. I knew what I had to do. I fucking hated what I had to do.

  And, just like nine years ago, I was going to do the right thing. I hated how the right thing always meant I had to hurt her for her own good. For a brief, moronic second I thought about just telling her—talking to her about it. And maybe if I didn’t know her like I did, I would’ve. But she’d give it all up for me. She’d tell me she didn’t give a shit about what anyone said or wrote. ‘Who reads those things anyway?’

  She would lie.

  And I couldn’t live with myself knowing that I’d been responsible for her fall. She was too damn bright for that.

  “Mr. Pillars.” With a curt nod to the empty space between Ash and him, I stalked towards the door.

  Before I could open it, Ash’s palm held it shut. My head jerked, meeting the cold stare of my oldest, best friend.

  “You. Promised.”

  Two words lifted the fog.

  Ash knew.

  When… how… it didn’t matter. What mattered was that he knew which could only mean one thing.

  “You looked me in the face and swore you Wouldn’t. Touch. Her.” He snarled. I wanted to punch him for what he’d done, but I realized that’s exactly what he wanted: a reason to fight me. “You’re lucky you agreed tonight otherwise I would have fucking ruined you. Now get the fuck out of my sight and away from my fucking sister.”

  “Is that what this is about?” I demanded, my voice cutting like steel. “Punishing me? Then do it. Punish me. I deserve it. I broke my fucking promise but I think love is a damn good reason. You want to hurt me? Go right ahead. I deserve it. And I’ll take it, for her.”

  He sneered. “Tempting. But I don’t need to hit you to hurt you. Actually, as much as I want to, not kicking the shit out of you is going to make this hurt you more, so that’s what I’m going to do.”

  He reached and yanked the door open.

  “One day you’ll realize that we didn’t do this to hurt you,” I said with a low voice. I may have submitted for Blake’s sake, but that sure as fuck didn’t mean that I was going to do it quietly, especially if this was all because of him. “Right before you realize what a fucking piece of shit you are for doing this to her. Again. For making me break her heart. For her. For you. Again.”

  I watched pure rage vibrate through him and I felt pity almost as much as anger. Ash was my best friend. He was there for me through everything—high school, football, college, ZPP. He was like a brother to me. And that meant I knew better than anyone just how deeply rooted this sense of loyalty ran. I tried to make him see over the years what it had cost him—friends, girlfriends—but he couldn’t… wouldn’t. Now it was going to cost him our friendship and I had a sinking feeling it was going to cost him his sister.

  “You know what Ash? Nine years ago, I chose to stab myself in the heart rather than stab you in the back. You’d think that by now you’d realize that I wouldn’t have fucking done this if I didn’t love her with every goddamn breath in my bones.” I watched his nostrils flare and I knew I’d struck a nerve. “I hope this was worth it. I hope your pride was worth it.”

  Ash didn’t care what this did to Blake. He thought she’d survive my leaving her just like the last time. But last time wasn’t like this time. The last time I hadn’t known that she was all I needed.

  It was when I punched the elevator button, needing to get outside and get some air, that I realized I’d been holding my breath, knowing that letting it go meant time was ticking closer to the moment when I had to break my girl’s heart—and my own.

  At this point it didn’t matter what the truth was—whether Ash had made up the entire thing about the press knowing or whether he’d convinced Bruce that this was the only way to resolve it. I wasn’t willing to risk it—everything that she’d worked so hard for. I wasn’t worth it.

  She was going to hate me.

  I was going to hate me.

  But at least they would still love her and still look at her as though she were made of pure starlight.

  My hat was so twisted in my hands, it should have broken by now.

  I watched her. Watched her as she stared blankly out at the stage, like she somehow knew it was the fucking plank she was about to walk onto—a plank that I was going to push her off of.

  My fingers were still chilled from walking outside for the past half hour. After that meeting, I needed to get out of there. I needed to think. And I needed to make sure that I didn’t run into her because she made me fucking weak. One look. One word. And I knew I would give in. Touching her would convince me to say to hell with her career—her life—and take everything that she was and keep it for myself. Nine years of starvation had turned me into a selfish, greedy bastard. I’d prided myself on always doing the right thing. With her, the lines blurred on whether it was the right thing—or just the right thing for me.

  Two roads. One destination: losing Blake. There was no good option. At least if I was the one to break it off, she wouldn’t lose any more face in front of the world. At least I’d be able to give her that.

  The thought that I knew we should have told Ash was no consolation now; that fucker would have thought we’d betrayed him no matter how or when he found it.

  It was the one thing that had surprised me though—I thought I’d care more about what Ash thought. He was my fucking best friend, I should care if I’d hurt him. But if I did, it was nothing compared to what I felt for his sister.

  Again, I felt like kicking myself for running from her all this time.

  My Blake. My North Star.

  And then I heard it. The crowd chanting for her, begging her to come on stage. She didn’t realize it—too lost in thought—but an unconscious smile appeared on her face hearing them; they lit her soul.

  I wouldn’t take this away from her.

  I wasn’t worth it.

  Track 18: Falling Stars

  “Speeding. Burning. I never learn.

  I wonder, can I wish on my own falling star?

  Because wherever
I fall, I hope it’s where you are.”

  STIFLING ANXIETY. NOT THE ‘I’M-ABOUT-TO-GO-ON-STAGE’ butterflies. No, this was the nervousness that rubbed like sandpaper over every inch of my skin, taking my calm and rational layers with it.

  It was fine that I hadn’t heard from Zach since he’d gone to meet with my brother.

  I was sure it was about ZPP.

  So sure.

  Just like I’d been sure about Xavier. And Levi.

  I’d been so sure about them.

  Until I wasn’t. And then the uncertainty invaded my insides like poisonous weed, growing, climbing, tightening… consuming. And that’s what I felt now. The thickness in my throat that I kept trying to swallow as I tried to talk to Tay like nothing was wrong.

  “You ok, B?” She adjusted my black sequin party-looking dress, tucking the cord of my mic down the back.

  “Just nervous.” My eyes focus on the two stools on stage. I would be out there in five and I hadn’t seen Zach yet—which wasn’t the norm.

  “Not the normal nervous. If you were normal nervous, you’d be smacking on a piece of gum right now.” She came around me and crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Nothing.” I ducked my head, glancing around—looking for him—before I confessed miserably, “I-I just wanted to see Zach before the show but he couldn’t because he was meeting with Ash. I’m just… worried. Maybe Zach was right. Maybe we should have told him.”

  My lower lip replaced the gum I didn’t have.

  “Oh?” Her brow scrunched. “Stop chewing on your lip. You’re eating away the red.” She pulled out the rouge lipstick that Lin had put on me from her pocket and dabbed some where I’d rubbed it off. “You know, I saw Ash a little earlier, but he said he was meeting with Bruce…”

  My eyebrows rose. Well, that was news. I rubbed my freshly-coated lips together.

  “I doubt that if he knew, he’d confront Zach in front of Bruce, don’t you?”