I could feel the heat rising to color my cheeks. Maybe it was, but I honestly didn’t know what else to do. What exactly was the proper apology for, “Sorry you caught me making out with one of my best friends. I swear, it doesn’t happen often”? I figured buying coffee and breakfast for everyone was the best I could do. Plus, it wasn’t like I didn’t do this kind of thing at least once or twice a week just because anyway.
“I buy breakfast or dinner for the whole crew all the time,” I deflected. “It had nothing to do with you.”
“Okay,” he said slowly.
I could tell he wasn’t buying it, but that was my story and I was sticking to it.
My phone rang, and I groaned when I saw that it was Hugh. But if he was calling me two days in a row, it was probably important.
“What do you need, Hugh?” I answered as Ezra opened the back door of the Escalade for me.
“What the fuck, Daphne?!” he growled.
What in the hell? Lately it seemed like he was snapping at me more than normal, but usually I knew why. Right now? I hadn’t the foggiest idea.
“Um, Hugh, I’m lost. You might have to catch me up,” I chuckled nervously.
“Why the fuck would you kiss some girl in front of everyone? And let someone take a picture of it?” he spat. “That picture’s all over all the fucking Internet!”
A knot formed in my stomach and bile rose in my throat.
Someone had actually taken a picture of me kissing Samantha backstage last night and sent it to a bunch of tabloids? Why? Who would do that to me? I didn’t know anyone who would be that cruel.
Except that I apparently did. And they were in my employment, which meant that they’d signed the same non-disclosure agreement that everyone else had. Like I’d told Ezra last night, it definitely wasn’t meant for situations like that, but those situations were mentioned in it. So that meant they’d violated the agreement and could get fired and fined. Though I didn’t care about the money. I just cared about getting them off my crew so that this never happened again.
“It wasn’t in front of everyone. That was right outside my dressing room,” I said quietly. “I didn’t know anyone was there.”
“You’re there to put on a show, not to make a statement about fucking gay pride! Who the fuck is she, Daphne? Some girlfriend I don’t know about?”
“Okay, first of all, I was with Sam and we were onstage on time. And last I checked, I wasn’t obligated to tell you who I’m sleeping with,” I said, tears of frustration stinging my eyes. “I’ll call Randy and see if I can get him to get the picture taken down because that’s not fair to her, but it’s none of your goddamned business who I fuck.”
I hated that I was talking to him like this. It wasn’t professional and I knew it, but I couldn’t help it. Hugh just pissed me the fuck off. He acted like I was his property, not his client.
“I’m your manager, Daphne!” he exclaimed. “Everything you do is my business!”
“No, everything I get paid to do is your business. And I suggest you remember that if you want to keep being my manager,” I rasped as a few of the tears that had been stinging my eyes trickled out.
I hung up without saying goodbye and immediately called Randy Hopkins, my PR manager. Hopefully he could at least stop this picture from circulating.
“Daphne,” he answered warmly. “Hey, sweetheart. I was just about to call you.”
What the hell was with these middle-aged men and calling me pet names? Just because I was a young woman in the entertainment industry, it didn’t mean I wanted that kind of attention. I paid these men to do a job, not to talk to me like I was their girlfriend.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I shouldn’t have taken my frustration with Hugh out on Randy. He was actually really sweet, if a little overly affectionate.
“Hey, Randy,” I sighed. “I take it you were going to call me about the picture Hugh just got done yelling at me for?”
“He yelled at you for it?”
“Yeah,” I sniffled. “He started grilling me about Sam. And no, I’m not dating her. She’s just a friend. Who I happened to hook up with yesterday.”
“You’re entitled, Daph. You don’t have to explain to me. Have you seen the picture?” he asked.
“Nope. And I don’t really want to. Is there any way you can get it taken down? And find out who leaked it? Because whoever it is violated their NDA.”
“I’m already on it,” he assured me. “Unfortunately, it’ll probably take time and lawyers, so if you know of anyone who was in the area, can you do me a favor and ask around? Most of the time, these stupid media companies won’t reveal their so-called sources, and it’ll go a lot faster if we can prove this person wasn’t supposed to have the picture.”
“Yeah, I know how it works. That’s how that picture of me and Blaine in the damn hot tub got out a while back,” I remembered. “There was only one other person around last night that I saw. I’ll ask him. Thanks, Randy.”
“That’s what I’m here for. And you do know it was a pretty tame picture, right? It could have been a lot worse,” he said.
I snorted. “Still not the image I want to be sending, no matter if it was with a man or woman. There’s a bunch of little girls who look up to me. I want to give them something positive to look up to, not pictures of me kissing random people.”
“I know. You’re one of the good ones. You know that?”
“I try to be,” I told him, unable to stop myself from smiling. “Thanks again. I’ll talk to you later and let you know if I find anything out that could help you.”
“Thanks, Daph. Break legs,” he said before hanging up.
Great. Now I had to bring the kiss up to Ezra again. Because he was the only one in the vicinity when it happened. At least the only one I saw. But I knew it wasn’t him. He’d looked so uncomfortable when I first saw him—really, for the rest of the night—and he’d had his head turned, like he didn’t want to see it at all.
I turned to look at Ezra, and he looked…not really upset. More uncomfortable, or saddened.
“I hate to ask you this, Ezra, but did you see anyone else around last night? When Sam and I came out of the dressing room?” I mumbled.
He half-smiled. “I saw the picture on my Facebook feed this morning. I just didn’t want to say anything and upset you even more. And I’ve been racking my brain trying to figure out if I saw anyone else there, before or after, but I can’t think of anyone. I should have paid more attention. I’m sorry.”
I chuckled weakly. “It’s okay. I kind of figured as much. I just…I feel violated, you know?”
“I would too. I’m sorry you have to deal with this. You don’t seem like the kind of person who wants stuff like this getting out.”
“I don’t. I like to keep my private life private. And I usually don’t do stuff like this for it to get out. Which is why it’s such a huge deal to the tabloids when it does happen, and they always act like it’s Girls Gone Wild or something. It’s only happened a couple of times, all with boyfriends or girlfriends. No, actually, there was one time someone caught me kissing Taylor on his cheek and everyone wondered if I was dating someone. I shut that down by posting a pic of me with him and his fiancé, Alex, and he had his tongue down Alex’s throat,” I giggled.
Ezra laughed. “That’s one way to shut people up.”
“Yeah. It worked pretty fast,” I agreed.
When I walked onto the stage for the sound check, Samantha was already standing there. I ran over to her and threw my arms around her neck, a few tears leaking out.
“You saw,” she said softly.
I shook my head and pulled back to look at her. “No. Hugh called yelling at me about it. I’m so sorry, Sam. I’m an idiot.”
“It’s not your fault, babe,” she murmured. “It’s okay. I always knew something like this was a possibility. I knew what I was signing up for when our relationship got physical.”
“You shouldn’t have to deal with i
t, though,” I sniffled. “Especially when we’re not even dating.”
“Daph, you didn’t do anything wrong.” She pulled me back into a hug and ran her fingers through my hair. “It’s not your fault that someone took and shared that picture.”
“I talked to Randy and he’s trying to get it taken down, but the chances of that happening are slim to none,” I sighed.
“Even if he doesn’t, it’s okay. You weren’t the only person there last night. I kissed you back, and I don’t regret it for a second,” she said, giving me a quick brush on my lips.
Sometimes I wished I could develop feelings for Samantha that were more than just friendship. She was the one who had made the move to take our friendship to a more intimate level, when we were both drunk off our asses after a show one night, and I’d gone along with it because I needed rebound sex after breaking up with Blaine. When we talked the next morning, she’d said that she was fine being friends with benefits, but I had a suspicion that her feelings for me went deeper than mine did for her.
I knew she would have been an amazing girlfriend. She was sweet and compassionate and caring. And, hell, I already knew we were sexually compatible. But I just didn’t see her like that, and it made me feel horrible for sleeping with her at all. It felt like I was taking advantage of her.
Add that to the long list of reasons why yesterday never should have happened.
“Hey, Daph,” Ezra called as I was opening the door of my dressing room after the sound check.
I stopped and turned to look at him, a little relieved that he was talking to me again. I didn’t know why it mattered so much to me, but it just hadn’t felt right last night, not having the usual easy rapport with him. If nothing else, I’d gotten used to our friendly working relationship.
“Hey, Ezra,” I said with a smile. “What’s up?”
“I wanted to let you know, I talked to my guys. None of them saw anyone in the vicinity of your dressing room last night either,” he sighed. “I’m sorry. I wish I could have been more help.”
“It’s okay. It’s not your job,” I told him. “Thanks for trying.”
“Are you okay?” he asked.
No one on my crew had ever asked me that in the middle of a publicity nightmare like this before. Not that this was that much of a nightmare, but still. Everyone was always just so focused on how to stop it and cover it up, and they never thought to ask me how I was handling it. Again, I was a brand, not a person. So who cared about my feelings on the situation?
Apparently my insanely good-looking bodyguard with the kind smile. That was who.
“I’ll be okay,” I sighed. “It kind of sucks, but honestly, I’m used to being the center of attention. I feel bad for Sam more than anything. She’s not used to it. And she’s my friend, not my girlfriend. We just happened to hook up yesterday, and I was stupid enough to kiss her where people could see. And this is a lot harder to cover up than it was with Taylor. Because that kiss actually happened, and there’s no other way to interpret it. I feel awful. I should never have put her in that position.”
Like it was just a reflex reaction, Ezra pulled me into his arms. And I couldn’t believe how right it felt as I returned the hug. Probably because I needed this more than I’d realized.
“I’m sorry, Daph,” he murmured. “For how I acted yesterday. I don’t have any bullshit excuses to try to justify it. I was an asshole, and I’m sorry. But you? You have nothing to be sorry for. You didn’t do a damn thing wrong. You and Sam were both consenting adults, and it’s not your fault that someone violated your privacy and posted that picture.”
I didn’t know why, but hearing him say that made my eyes sting a little. Maybe because I wasn’t used to people remembering that behind Daphne DeVille, the performer, there was Daphne, the human being who had feelings and emotions just like everyone else. I squeezed my eyes shut, determined not to cry in front of him again.
Ezra didn’t let go of me for a good couple of minutes. It was like he could tell how much I needed the hug, and he wanted to give me as much comfort as I needed. Finally, I took a deep breath, inhaling the distinct scent of cedarwood, and pulled back.
“Thanks for that,” I chuckled awkwardly. “I needed a hug.”
“I could tell,” he said with a smile. “Now, go get ready to meet your adoring fans.”
I smiled and turned to go into my dressing room, pulling out my phone and checking my notifications. The first thing I saw was a text from Taylor.
Taylor: So, how are things with Mr. Hot Stuff today?
Me: He has a name, you know.
Taylor: Yes, I know. Mr. Hot Stuff. Back on speaking terms, I take it?
Me: Yeah. Did you see the picture of me and Sam floating around?
Taylor: Yeah, Alex showed me. He’s jealous she got to snog you and not him. ;-) J/K. Are you okay?
I laughed. Despite how close I’d gotten with Alex, I was still his celebrity crush. Apparently I was the only woman on the planet that he’d ever go straight for a night with. And, ever since Taylor had told me about that, I’d always thought it was hilarious. But I guessed I shouldn’t have been shocked, because he was the president of my unofficial online fan club.
Me: I’m fine. More upset for Sam than anything else. Anyway, Ezra took it upon himself to ask around to see if anyone could find out who took the picture, and he just gave me a huge hug. Out of nowhere. Not even going to lie, he gives the best hugs.
Taylor: Good! I’m glad Mr. Teddy Bear gave you a hug. Tell me, think I can get one of those when I meet him?
Me: *laughing crying emoji* I don’t know. You’d have to ask him.
Taylor: Glad things are back to normal with him. I told you, you were overthinking it.
Me: You did. Anyway, back to trying to cover this crap up. Somehow. It’s not like I can say I didn’t kiss her, because I did.
Taylor: Maybe you tripped and fell on her lips? It happens, you know! I’m always tripping and falling on Alex’s lips. True story! Just ask him.
Me: That’s just not the image of me that I want floating around. Little girls look up to me.
Taylor: I know, Tink. *hug emoji* Well, you know I’m here for you if you need me. I’ll come kick some arse if I have to. Speaking of arses... You got a photo of Mr. Hot Teddy’s arse yet?
Me: Thanks. And keep dreaming.
I backed out of the text thread with Taylor and found a missed call from Randy, so I called him back.
“Daph,” he answered on the second ring.
“Hey, Randy. Sorry I missed your call. I just got done with the sound check. I asked the one other person I saw in the vicinity last night when I kissed Sam, and he didn’t see anything. And I know for a fact that he didn’t take the picture. Any luck on your end?”
“Nope. No one would reveal their, quote, confidential sources. I’m working with our attorneys to get the picture taken down everywhere, but it’s going to take time. Probably a lot of it. I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault,” I said, taking a deep breath. “I was the moron who kissed my friend out in the open. And now I’m paying the price. I just wish she didn’t have to pay it too. Has anyone mentioned her by name?”
“One site, but I did get them to remove her name from the article at least. Sam’s safe,” he assured me.
“Okay, good. I guess that’s the best we can do for now until the lawyers work their magic,” I sighed. “Thanks for trying, Randy.”
I hung up and sank down onto the couch, putting my head in my hands. Logically, I knew that this could have been a lot worse. But, between this and the unwelcome gift I’d gotten yesterday, my nerves were shot. Here was hoping nothing else went wrong during this tour.
As we rode back to the hotel after the show—which was, thankfully, gift-free tonight—Daphne looked up from her phone and turned to me. Her expression was almost guilty, but mixed with hope.
“I really hate to ask this after you and your guys have had a long day, but there’s an awesome re
tro club not too far from the hotel, and a few of us wanted to go out since we don’t have a show tomorrow,” she said.
“And you need some muscle in case you get mobbed by fans,” I finished for her.
She nodded, her gaze darting downward.
“I’ll get a couple more guys to join us. You had a rough day. You’re entitled to have some fun every once in a while, just like the rest of us,” I told her. “When did you want to leave?”
“What time is it now?” she said, checking her phone. “Eleven-thirty. Um…like twelve-fifteen? Is that too soon?”
“Nope. We can make that work.” I pulled my radio off my belt. “Ramsay to Team Angel. Need a couple of volunteers to accompany Angel and a few others to a club tonight. Any takers?”
“I’ll come,” Garth responded.
“I can join too,” Hector said.
“Sounds good. I think three of us is enough. Be ready to go at zero-zero-one-five. Thanks, guys.” I put my radio in my lap and turned back to Daphne.
“Thank you. I know this isn’t in your job description,” she murmured.
“Daph, our job description as your security team is to accompany you everywhere you go. If you want to go to a club, we’re there. If you decide you really need a nonfat caramel macchiato tomorrow morning and absolutely have to go to Starbucks, someone goes with you,” I told her.
She snorted. “Actually, I’m a dirty chai latte person. With two percent milk. Shocker, I know.”
“Noted,” I chuckled. “In any case, this is what we do. Maybe your last security team gave you hell for wanting to act like a normal person and let your hair down every once in a while, but that’s not how we operate.”
“I still appreciate it,” she said.
Two seconds after I knocked on Daphne’s hotel room door, she and all three of her backup singers stepped out of her room. And for a second, I forgot how to breathe.
While Daphne dressed in tight clothing for her show, it was usually modest at the same time. She’d told me on my second night on the job that she did that because she realized she had a lot of younger fans and she wanted to make sure her act was family-friendly, something parents weren’t afraid to bring their kids to.
Falling Angel Page 7
