by Riley Scott
He wanted Paul’s insights on how to get through to her. None of them knew how to talk her out of what was coming. Even Paul who knew her so well had no ability to break through her obstinacy. Discussing it with her would only drive her deeper into the usual cataclysmic pattern. As Paul took the last few gulps, he shot Frank a sideways grin.
“Whatever you come up with, I’ll be there fighting with you, champ,” he said, placing a hand on Frank’s shoulder before heading out the front door.
Frustrated, Frank slapped his palm against the counter. “It’s my job to manage this fucking band not be a therapist,” he said, his voice a low, hissing whisper. In the back of his mind, he knew that therapist had always been part of his role.
He thought back to when Raven had first signed with him. She was a punk in her early twenties, thin as a wisp and ready to fight—for or against anyone or anything and at any odds. Having split from her previous manager after three years on the scene, he knew he was taking a risk. But he had a hunch she was a chance worth taking. He had admired the fire in her eyes, but he had since come to realize that it came with a temper and an ability to dismiss people mercilessly. It came with a raging past of bad memories and trauma and it came with a troubled future.
She was and had always been, in a word, hell-bent. Hell-bent on success. Hell-bent on making a change in the course of her life—from rags to riches. Hell-bent on expressing herself. Hell-bent on speaking out in anger. Hell-bent on living as she pleased. Hell-bent on being on her own. Hell-bent on fun. Hell-bent on sex, drugs and rock ’n’ roll, just like the greats who came before her. Hell-bent on making history. Hell-bent on needing no one. And unfortunately, hell-bent on destruction.
The door creaked behind him and he turned slowly. He saw Chris standing in the hallway, disheveled and looking like a teenager caught missing a curfew, and he cursed himself for invading her privacy.
“Uh,” she stammered, her cheeks blushing crimson. “Good morning.”
“Morning,” he said, nodding his head and turning back to face the wall. Even though he knew her professional line had already been crossed, he felt their working relationship had just changed.
He reminded himself that boundaries were nothing in this business. If he had a nickel for every time he had seen a team member in a compromised state, he would never need to work again. He breathed a sigh of relief when he heard another door close behind him, knowing that Chris had disappeared.
Moments later, he heard a door throw open forcefully, hurried steps and Christina’s voice.
“What are you talking about?” she said agitatedly, her words running together. He resisted the urge to turn around, but after he heard, bus door open, he walked closer to the window.
“When?” he could hear her voice rising. “When did it hit? Is it bad?”
His heart rate rose, as he listened in on what had to be a negative call. When she shook her head, his stomach fell.
* * *
Chris’s heart pounded as she listened to her boss. Seeing Susan’s name pop up on her screen had warmed her heart and she wanted to touch base and see how her other clients were doing. Yet the mood had quickly changed.
“Looks like you’re having a blast out there on the road,” her boss had said, her tone only slightly amused, but nonetheless stern.
“What do you mean?” Chris had asked, trying to keep things conversational, all the while running through the list of no-no’s she had committed while on the road. Partying, smoking pot and sleeping with clients were all against the rules, although they had never been spelled out as such. It was just common sense that those things were not ethical or professional.
“Saw you on the cover of a tabloid this morning,” Susan said after a brief pause.
“What?” Chris had felt her nervousness rise.
“Yeah,” she said, “you two look like you’re getting really close.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re making out on the cover of People,” her boss said, her tone still level, but concerned. “You two are trending on Facebook. It’s all over the web. I’m not quite sure what to think.”
Wanting privacy, Chris had fled the bus to take this call. For a while, she had been in her own little cocoon, thinking no one else had a clue of what was happening behind the scenes. She now knew she had been stupid. There was only so much time you could spend with a public figure with such a high value to the paparazzi without being dragged into it yourself.
“We just clicked,” Chris said, deciding it best to not try to lie it away. “I don’t really know how it happened, but it did. I’m still doing my job. I’m still taking care of things. Other things just came up as well.”
“Your personal life is your personal life,” her boss said, softening. “I want you to be happy. We all know you work too much. You and I have talked about our personal lives. I know it’s been a while since you’ve had that connection with anyone. I care about you. You know that.”
Chris could hear the sincerity and reflected on how many times Susan had asked about her dating life, only to be let down that Chris had little interest. “I didn’t mean for it to get out like this,” Chris said, her breathing quickening as she realized what a mess she was in. “I wanted to tell you. It’s just so unprofessional.”
“Yes. It is,” Susan said. Chris imagined her shaking her head and strumming her fingers on the desk like she often did when trying to process difficult information. “Like I said, I’m not sure what to do just yet. I’m trying to put out my own fires over this. And yours is just getting started, I’m afraid. I’m calling for three reasons. I am calling to let you know that I’m figuring out how to proceed. I also want to make sure that it’s not interfering with why we sent you on the road. And I’m calling so you know that this mess is yours to clean up. You’re good at what you do. I’m going to need you to show me that on this case. This is not to interfere with our business back home—or with the work you’re doing on the road.”
“Not at all,” Chris said, confident in her answer. “I’m a professional, first and foremost. Well, I usually am…I just got caught up in how good it felt to be around her.”
She was careful not to make an apology. While she knew that it wasn’t the best light in which to be painted, she wasn’t sorry for anything. She had already accepted the consequences and she was—for the first time in a long while—just living.
“Okay,” her boss said. “You take care of the PR if a statement needs to be made. I’m going to trust your judgment here. This is your brief. I just don’t want this to get carried away and hurt your career down the road or to damage what I’ve worked so hard to build. We’re both aware that the press typically follows up on stories this dynamic. I’m sure it won’t take long for them to find out exactly who you are and what your role is supposed to be with Raven. And every one of our clients knows what you look like, so it won’t be a mystery for any of them. It could look very bad for us. And while I will handle talking to the clients, I am relying on you to fix this publicly or make sure it’s not a hindrance.”
The underlying threat was clear. Fix it or deal with the fallout. Chris agreed quickly and moved the conversation on, catching up on her other clients and how things were back home.
She felt more at ease, but only momentarily. Sitting on the ground outside the bus, she realized that she was going to have to be the one to break the news to everyone, unless that was the reason for Frank’s early morning visit. Her hands were shaking and she couldn’t breathe. This was a worst-case scenario. She should have been more prepared for it. You can’t sleep with a rock star for two months and expect that no one will find out. She chided herself, shaking her head and breathing out through tight lips.
Susan was too good to her. Any other boss would have fired her on the spot. Though she knew that would leave Susan in a bind, she also knew that she was more than lucky to have received a slap on the wrist and a “deal with it” message. She should have been overjoyed. Instead,
she felt like she had let Susan down.
Hanging her head, she reminded herself of the task at hand and the busy morning ahead. She found the story on her phone. Reading it as if it were her own eulogy, she looked for anything negative. Thankfully, no one identified her. She was the nameless, faceless woman splashed against the cover photo, the eye candy of the queen, THE goddess of rock. Thankful for the anonymity, she knew that it still wouldn’t matter to Raven. It was emotional exposure. A sign of weakness. It was her being seen connected to someone, instead of standing proudly alone. And she knew Susan was right. There would be investigative stories—who she was, where she worked and more.
She skimmed through the articles again, noting that she had been called “incredibly beautiful,” and that together, they were deemed a “hot couple.” The word “couple” jumped off the page at her, threatening to ruin all she had built in two months and wondered if this was the end of the road. If this was the moment Raven decided that promoting a positive image no longer mattered if it breached her privacy and enigmatic image.
Her stomach churning, she stood, steadying herself against the nightmare coming down on top of her. Gripping the wheel well, she played through what she was going to say to the others, Raven in particular. She knew this was going to come back with a “this has to stop” ruling, but the other part of her wished against all the odds that it could continue, even if only for a while. Whatever the fate of this fast-paced romance might be, she would deal with it and she would do so professionally. Grimly, she climbed the steps and reentered the bus.
Frank and Raven stopped talking and looked at her quizzically.
“What’s wrong?” Raven asked, looking her up and down. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Not a ghost,” Chris said, taking a seat next to her on the couch. Frank sat opposite on a barstool. “I just got off the phone with my boss. Has anyone seen the cover of today’s People?”
She watched their faces fall in an instant. Her phone buzzed again in her pocket and she quickly read the text from Brittany.
“Damn. Get it, girl! You both look amazing and that looks like one hot kiss. Call me and tell me all about it soon!”
She sighed, shoving it back into her pocket and wishing that she could feel the excitement. Of course Brittany would be one of the first to know. It related to Chris’s love life. She had other things to deal with right now rather than feeding Brittany’s curiosity. She felt helpless, anticipating Raven’s wrath.
“So what is it?” Raven asked, pulling her phone out.
“It’s not a smear story,” she answered, holding up her hand. “Don’t worry about that. Actually, I think it’s probably worse for me than it is for you.”
Raven raised an eyebrow, and Frank cleared his throat.
“I was afraid of this,” he said in a gravelly, almost fatherly tone. “I don’t care what the two of you do behind closed doors, or if you want to make it public. But I think it’s time that you talk about it and make a decision about it.”
“What is it a picture of?” Raven asked impatiently.
“It’s a picture of us kissing. A picture from dinner last week in Fresno in that sushi restaurant. A damning picture, with a headline about your new main squeeze,” she said, hating what she had said, knowing that it would only serve to usher Raven out of her life more quickly than she wanted.
Raven stiffened, reacting as though she had been slapped in the face. “I guess it is news to them,” she said, clipping her words. “It’s been years since I was photographed with anyone the press regards as more than a one-off fling.”
“Is there anything negative in the story?” Frank asked, bringing them both back to the meat of the problem from the standpoint of the band—not their romantic interests.
“Nothing negative. It mainly just poses questions, like ‘who is she’ and ‘is the queen of rock settling down?’ But there’s nothing in the story that smears. In fact, they write that it’s nice to see a bit of a more personal look into Raven’s life. It was all very positive, just more than we want.”
With each word, she could feel an increasing chill from Raven, as if any indication of a commitment between the two of them—even if it wasn’t Chris’s doing—was grounds for immediate termination of their business agreement.
“I see,” Frank said, standing from his stool. “Then, you two figure out if a response is needed, or if we just ignore it and let it stand as the gossip that it is. I’m going to leave you two to figure out next steps. You’re the public relations expert, Christina, so I will let you handle this. However, I think it’s time for you both to consider the fact that, if this is to continue, the public will find out. You need to decide if that’s what you both want.”
“What do you think?” Raven asked, turning to face only Frank.
“It doesn’t really matter what I think,” he said softly. “It’s your life. Everyone already knows you’re a lesbian. That’s no shocker. Everyone already knows that you can pull beautiful eye candy.” Chris cringed at his use of the word “pull,” but let him continue. “The only thing that remains for you to decide is if this is something you want made public. If it is, go ahead, post a picture on social media of the two of you together. If this is something that you both deem better to keep behind closed doors, then do that but stop kissing in public places. Paparazzi are everywhere. Everyone can be paparazzi—or at least get paid for their photos.
“I will say that it wouldn’t hurt to have a little more of you shown to the public. They’ve never photographed you with a woman of interest before. It may actually help your image. It would help to make you more relatable. However, since this is your personal life, I won’t recommend that you make dating decisions based upon what is best for your career.”
He turned to walk toward the door, stopping only before he grabbed the handle. “Good luck kid,” he said, nodding in Raven’s direction. “You know I’ll support you whatever you decide. I always have.”
Frank walked out of the bus, leaving the two of them alone, sitting in silence, their fate hanging. Chris glanced over, attempting to make the first eye contact with Raven. Raven sat, motionless, eyes staring blankly at the wall.
Chapter Eleven
Taking a deep breath, Chris didn’t care that it was only ten o’clock in the morning. She needed a drink. Making her way to the kitchen, she mixed two tequila sunrises and walked back to the couch, setting one in front of Raven.
“Something to clear your mind a little,” she said, hoping her playful tone would shake Raven out of whatever funk into which she had disappeared.
“Thanks,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.
“Look,” Chris said, sitting down next to her and positioning her body so that Raven had to look at her. “We don’t have to talk about this right now. We can keep doing what we’re doing for now and we can play it by ear. There’s nothing saying that everything has to be black and white by the time we walk out of here today.”
“What is it you want?” Raven asked after a moment. “What is it that you think will be best?”
“For your image? For you? Or for me?”
“All of the above,” she said, averting her gaze once more and setting her jaw as if she was ready for a blow.
“I think that your image is off the charts right now,” she said. “I think that nothing written today took a toll on any of that and I think that the work we’re doing together is really making a difference. Hell, most of what has been printed lately has you in pictures with puppies. They are mostly fluff stories talking about what a badass you are—a badass with a huge heart. That’s awesome. What we’re doing is working. This image campaign is fine, regardless of whether or not you and I are sleeping together. As far as what’s good for you, only you can decide that. Frank said it’s not his place to give advice and it’s not mine either. That’s all you.
“As for me and my career, I’m just fine. My boss said as long as it doesn’t impact negatively on me or the
firm, she’s fine with it. I’m fine with it. Does it blur a line? Probably. Actually, yes, it does. But at the end of the day, I’m an adult and I wanted to fuck you. I’ve wanted to fuck you every time I’ve gone to bed with you, so I got myself into this and I’ll keep fucking you as long as that’s what you want and as long as it’s what I want. I’m an adult and I make my choices.”
“What about the rest of what they said? They called you my girlfriend. They said that you were the one who could change me. After all, look what you’ve done to my image in your time with me. They said it looked as if I had finally changed my ways and decided to settle down.” The words were heavy and Raven’s darkened eyes spoke volumes. If she was looking for a fight, she was going to find it with Chris. She seemed to want a reason to push Chris away.
“Fuck what they said,” Chris answered, waving her hand through the air dismissively. “These are the rags that report alien sightings and stuff like that. There’s no weight in what they say—especially when it comes to someone’s personal life. They should have no influence over any of your actions. As long as they don’t have pictures of you in compromising positions—say snorting coke off a stripper’s chest or something, I think we’re fine.”
“So, we don’t need to talk about it?”
Chris watched Raven carefully. She wasn’t sure if she was more relieved or disappointed to not be put on the spot and having this all-important chat about their relationship, the definition of “couple” and exclusivity.
“No,” Chris answered, shrugging her shoulders. “As far as I’m concerned, they can write what they want. If there are follow-up stories, we will deal with those like we’re dealing with this one. We can talk about it then. And if you’re fine with it, I’m going to fuck you now and stop having this conversation.”
