Zach: How did you sleep?
I tap out my reply without looking at him.
Kyra: Fine.
Zach: Thanks for coming by last night.
Kyra: Of course.
Zach: Can I ask you something?
Kyra: What’s that?
Zach: Why did Ben give you his room key?
Kyra: Because he was being obnoxious. I don’t know.
Zach shoots his cousin a dirty look and puts his phone away. I pretend to keep tapping away on mine so that it’s not obvious we were texting each other. A sensation like crawling ants on my skin makes me look up and I see that Ben is staring at me, his eyes glassy.
Logan follows my gaze and says, “You all right, bro?”
Ben doesn’t reply. Just shuts his eyes and leans his head back.
My guess is that he’s just tired and hungover, but Zach seems more agitated about it. Several times during the flight, he tries to talk to his cousin, only to be ignored or pushed away.
Once we’re on the ground in Lisbon, Zach announces that the band will spend the afternoon giving interviews. Rick does not seem happy about this but says nothing.
“No way,” says Ben. “Gimme a break.”
The air outside the plane is hot and so muggy it feels like I have to swim through it. Our surroundings shimmer mirage-like in the heat, and the breeze smells like jet fuel. Brent trains his camera on the feuding cousins.
Great, just great. The band has wanted a concert movie for so long, and here they are, giving it footage like this. I wish there was something I could do, but obviously, there isn’t. Even if Aidan will blur my face out of his shots, there’s always a chance of getting shot by paparazzi when we’re in the open like this. One long-range lens could easily snag pictures of me interacting with the guys.
Thus, I have to make sure I don’t—or if I do, that it doesn’t look the least bit interesting.
“Ben, show a little gratitude,” says Zach. “Fans put us where we are today.”
“Talent put us where we are today,” Ben shoots back.
“No it didn’t,” says Logan.
I wince and all three of the guys look at me. I stay firmly in Brent’s shadow, too close to be shot, and make a cutting gesture across my throat at Logan. The last thing they want to say in their documentary is that they don’t have talent. Maybe some fans will find it adorably humble, but it’s still a bad sound bite. No sooner have I completed the gesture than I realize that here I am, interacting with the band. I’ll just have to hope no paparazzi are watching and that I’m just paranoid.
Logan’s expression goes from obstinate to defeated. “Fine,” he says. “I’ll do the interviews.”
Ben waggles his eyebrows at me. “Yeah, okay.”
I notice Zach’s poised to thank them and I shake my head. Don’t, I think. Don’t make them think they’re doing it for you.
He freezes then says, “’Kay, let’s go get ready.”
The three singers file on past us and the crew, their shoulders slouched. They look exhausted. The rest of us follow the band at a discreet distance, if there is any such thing as a “discreet distance” for a camera crew.
Aidan punches me lightly in the shoulder. “You sure you don’t want to be in this film?”
“Positive.”
“Okay, well, listen. You can’t do any more interactions like you just did without featuring in some way.”
“So keep quiet?” I say.
“Or sign a release.”
Keep quiet it is.
As I help Brent and crew pack up once the interviews are over, Ben saunters on over and tugs on my shirt. The guys in this band have a shirt-tugging thing. We’re in his suite, almost unrecognizable as a hotel room with all the lights and reflectors and backdrop and such.
I turn to see what he wants.
“Soooo, how you doing?” he asks.
“I’m fine, thanks.”
Brent hands me a length of electrical cord and I get to work wrapping it around my elbow and thumb so it can be put away.
“Fine, thanks,” he mocks. “So formal.”
“Can I help you with something?”
“Listen, girl, what are you doing?” He flicks his gaze in Zach’s direction.
“We’re friends.”
“You don’t want to be friends with him.”
“Listen, nothing happened that night—”
“In Albuquerque. I know. Come on, I was just giving you a hard time. I know Zach.”
I finish wrapping the cord and tuck in the end to secure it.
“You know you’re wasting your time on him, right?”
“Being his friend.”
He makes quote marks in the air. “I know about you, all right? Your friends didn’t exactly hold back once you disappeared into his room.”
My body goes rigid with fear and I look up at him.
“I’m not gonna tell anyone,” he says. “I’m just saying, you aren’t his type and you know it. If he knew the truth about you, he’d run.”
“I know.”
Ben’s expression goes from mischievous to pitying. “I’m not like him.”
“Mmm.”
“Kyra, look, I’m not just talking about fooling around, though we could do that too. I’m saying maybe you should spend a little more time with me. Clear your head.”
“I’m not who I used to be,” I say, and turn on my heel to leave before he can answer.
Zach watches discreetly from across the room where he stands talking to the last interviewer. I gather they know each other and are just catching up a little. I give him a quick smile and resume my work.
He finishes up his conversation and walks over. “That man bothering you, miss?”
“Nah.”
“If he’s ever out of line—”
“It’s all good,” I assure him.
But Zach catches me by the elbow and makes me look him in the eye. “Seriously, if he ever makes you uncomfortable. If anyone does…”
He thinks this is the first time I’ve ever had to put a guy off and that Ben’s star status actually means something to me. “I’m fine. Really.”
He lets go of my arm with an uneasy look in his eyes and I turn away as if he’s just another guy on the tour. Halfway through the motion, I sense I’ve made a mistake. Perhaps I’m misreading, but Zach’s got a jealous vibe. I remember how he insisted I never lie to him.
But I’m not lying, I think.
When I head back to my room, though, I get a call from Chloe.
“Hello?” I answer.
“Hey, Kyra. So…somehow the paparazzi got a picture of you and Zach in Libby somewhere in Albuquerque.”
Not what I need just now.
“And the photographer sold it to People,” she continues.
“What?” I all but shriek. “No. They can’t…they—”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know you and he were…um…”
“Friends,” I finish off. “That photo can’t run, okay? Triple Cross is having enough trouble as it is in the media. If that photo is made public, people will find out about me and the press will use my past to ruin Triple Cross’s reputation and everything will be wrecked.”
“I don’t think it’d be that bad,” says Chloe.
“You don’t know about my past. Not in detail.” That was the thing about Chloe being relatively new to the family. She only knew some of the highlights of my past.
“Okay, listen, I hope you’re wrong about that. I’ll talk to Jason or Dave or…I dunno. If there’s a way to stop the picture from being published, we’ll find it.”
“Thank you.”
“But are you guys just friends? Why was he in Albuquerque?”
/>
“He was stopping through.”
“Uh-huh.”
“We’re close, you know?”
“Right.”
“I’m serious!”
“Hey, what? I didn’t say anything.”
I slump against the wall. “He thinks of me as just a friend.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah.” My throat is tight, and that comes out as a whisper. I trudge the last few steps to my room and let myself in.
“I take it that’s not mutual?”
“No.”
“I’m sorry. I know how that goes.”
“You do?”
“Yeah. Before Jason and I got together, I fell pretty hard for a friend of mine.”
“You did?”
“Yep. It burns.”
“So what should I do?”
“I think the generic advice is that you should tell him how you feel.”
“So is that what you think I should do?”
“If I were you…I’d probably worry so much about losing what I have that I’d clam up and suffer on.”
I can’t help but chuckle at her honesty.
“But Jason told me how he felt, you know? Told me he didn’t really want to be friends. It worked out.”
“I don’t think I’ve got the guts.”
“I hear that.”
“Please get that photo pulled from the magazine.”
“Yeah, we’ll get to work on that.”
We sign off, and I wish I could say sharing my pain eased it, but it didn’t.
Triple Cross has only one show scheduled for Lisbon and it begins in fifteen minutes. There’s no sign of Ben anywhere.
Zach tears up and down the concrete halls backstage. “Does anyone have a clue where he is? You just let him wander off?”
Logan is calmer, but I gather he’s letting Zach bear the brunt of the stress. I’m in his dressing room with Aidan and Brent, which means Logan’s on camera and he feels the need to say something. Even though this documentary’s been shooting for a few days, the guys aren’t yet comfortable enough to just go on with their lives with a camera crew tailing them.
Logan stares at his reflection in the mirror then turns to look at me.
I motion to Brent not to put me in the shot. I might not be recognizable in the zoo footage, but if I keep appearing, people will realize it’s the same person every time. They’ll see my dark skin tone and the fact that I’m a brunette.
Logan doesn’t notice this silent exchange, though. He just looks at me as if we’re alone and says, “One thing I’ll say about my mother. This kind of stuff never happened on her watch.”
That statement prompts me to answer, but I don’t want to interact with him on camera. Aidan can ask the follow-up question, I think.
Only he doesn’t. He’s tapping away on his cell phone.
This moment will pass, I think. It’s not that big a deal. Only, he needs to not talk about his mother. If there’s any chance of this candid moment going public, even through leaked footage, that is not good.
“She kept track of us at all times. If we sneaked off and she didn’t know where we were, she’d come down on us like a ton of bricks.”
I shake my head, but Logan’s not looking at me now.
“She’d threaten to cancel shows or report us as no-shows to the label. I don’t agree with it, you know? It was way too harsh, but it was effective.” He glances at his watch and winces. “I wonder if Ben really is gonna be a no-show.” His cell phone is on the counter, and he picks it up and dials. “And he’s not answering.” Logan puts the phone down with more force than necessary.
At the same moment, Zach bursts into the room. “Anything?” he demands.
“No, man.”
With a curse, Zach kicks the wall. On the monitor, mounted in one corner, we can see the lights dim onstage and the opening act begin.
Zach runs his fingers through his hair and clenches his fingers, as if to rip it all out by the roots. “Anybody else called him?” His gaze turns to me.
I really want to stay out of this, but one look at the desperation in his eyes makes me pull out my phone. The line rings twice, and then Ben answers, “Kyra?” Music blares in the background.
“Where are you?” I ask.
“Just out. Hanging.”
“You know you’re on in fifteen, right?”
“Oh. Yeah.”
“Well, get over here.” I put as much force into those words as I can.
“That an order?”
“Yes.” I have no idea why he’d take orders from me, but it’s all I’ve got. If he doesn’t show, then that’ll be a major embarrassment for his cousins.
“All riiight.” He sounds like a kid being dragged out of bed for school in the morning. “Um, I guess I’ll get a cab or something.”
“Where are you?”
“I dunno. Just this place.”
All I can tell from where I sit is that it’s a place with music, probably a club.
“See you.” He hangs up.
Everyone in the room stares at me as if I’m a doctor about to announce whether or not they’re terminal. No pressure or anything. I shrug. “He answered and said he’d get a cab and come here. He doesn’t know where in the city he is, so I have no idea where we could send a car.”
“He better show,” says Zach, “and he better be sober. Could you tell if he was?”
I shake my head. “He might have been drunk, or he might have just been acting like it.”
“Well, thank you,” he says. The way he speaks, we could have only just met, but his fingers fidget and his shoulders are tense.
I nod as if I barely know him. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do more, Mr. Wechsler.”
“Whaddya know, whaddya say?” shouts Ben’s voice in the hall. I wonder if he even needed a cab or if he was somewhere right next door, acting out for the fun of it.
“I will kill you!” Zach yells. “I swear. This is not cool.”
“Aw, what? You gonna fire me?”
“Maybe we should.”
Ben appears in the doorway, his face red as a beet. “Good luck with that.”
The camera crew is getting all of this, and alarm bells go off in my head. All this footage they have of the band acting out is worth a TON of money, and it seems like a bad idea to let them have it.
“Get ready,” says Logan. “We’re on in ten.”
“I’m ready.” His clothes are rumpled and his hair isn’t styled. I doubt he’s wearing any stage makeup either.
Both Zach and Logan look ready to strangle him, so I intervene.
“Come on.” I grab his wrist and tug him back out into the hallway. “Your dressing room is down here.”
He comes willingly enough and smirks at me as I select an outfit for him. The Wechslers are wearing red and blue, so I select a shirt that’s a bright turquoise and some nice jeans, which I toss at him. “I’ll step out for exactly three minutes, and then I’m coming back in to make sure your makeup gets done.”
“Yes, Mother.” He snickers.
I shut the door behind me and make a run to craft services for a large cup of coffee. “Large and strong,” I direct them.
Two and a half minutes later I’m back outside his door with the makeup artist tailing me, and the schedule’s so tight I don’t bother to wait the extra thirty seconds. I don’t knock either—I just go in.
Ben spins away from the mirror and looks at me in indignation. “Excuse you.” At least he’s dressed in the clothes I picked out.
“Coffee.” I hold up the cup. “You will drink it.”
“I need a straw. It’ll stain my teeth.”
“Aw, and ruin that pretty face of yo
urs?” I march towards him, pinch his cheek, and shove the coffee into his hands. “Drink. It. Now.”
“All right, all right.” He takes a swig and gags. “I need sugar.”
“You need caffeine. Drink it.”
He scowls at me, those green eyes of his glaring in offense, but he does what I say and gulps down more coffee.
I turn to the makeup artist. “I know it isn’t much to work with, but see what you can do.”
She chuckles, sets down her case, and gets to work.
Miraculously, Triple Cross steps onstage ten minutes later with no one the wiser. The opening act did one extra song to fill the gap. Aidan claps me on the back, but I suspect I didn’t make that much difference. My guess is that Ben timed it all in order to freak his cousins out. I doubt he’d ruin a show.
“Of course he would ruin a show,” says Zach several hours later. We’re in his room, eating popcorn. “He doesn’t understand that if he loses this gig, that’s that, you know? You’re lucky to get this far once in your career. You can’t just drop something that’s working and pick up something else and expect to have fans show up to your concerts.”
“If you’re so concerned about this band, why do you give the film crew guys so much freedom to film whatever they want?” I ask.
“That’s how concert movies work.”
“No,” I say. “They work however the contract says they work. Jason was in talks with a company to film behind the scenes of his last movie and he called the shots—literally.”
Zach looks up like I just poked him in the chest. “So he could eliminate any evidence he was having an affair?”
I drop my handful of popcorn in surprise, the little white puffs scattering all over my lap and the couch. “He wasn’t having an affair.” I gather up my popcorn, the light kernels barely registering against the skin of my palm. “He and Vicki Hanson are old friends, so if someone shot them hanging out together and stuff, they could make it look like they’re together all the time, but they’re not.”
“You don’t know he didn’t have an affair.”
“Yes I do,” I shoot back. “And you don’t know Chloe.” His antagonism has blindsided me, though. This was a friendly conversation only seconds ago.
Break It Up Page 11
