Rocked in Pieces (8 page)

“What did almost end you?”

The time Rick answered. “It wasn’t anything as dramatic as a girl or money or any of that. It was us. The same stupid shit we fought about the first year – we’re still fighting about it. And now we’ve got more years of dumb shit to be mad about.”

“Such as?”

He shrugged and sat back, clearly finished. For the first time since I’d asked him a direct question, Matthew spoke. “We’re family. We argue, get pissed about things that don’t matter and some that do. And hell, sometimes it’s just stress, lack of sleep. You take that stuff out on the ones closest to you. Everyone does it.”

“You all seem to be doing okay now. What changed?” I debated with myself and then went for it. “Did the death of your manager bring you closer together?”

Joe answered for all of them. “It did. It wasn’t easy, or like magic. We didn’t go from sad to perfect or anything. But like I said before, this band was everything to Ryan. All he ever wanted was for us to succeed. We owed it to him, really. Always did, but we didn’t see it. But now we know. The best way to honor his memory is to do what we’re doing. Drive to a new town. Play our songs. Party a little, pass out and do it all again the next day. For as long as we can.”

His lip quivered and he averted his eyes. This had gotten heavy really fast and I wasn’t sure what to do. Dex wrapped his arms around Joe and murmured something to him that I couldn’t hear as he held the other man tightly.

I cleared my throat. “Why don’t we take a little break?”

In response, everyone scattered as much as possible on moving bus. I conferred with Steven about a few things and was making some notes when Becca appeared in front of me, her face grim.

“Ellie, Christine would like to speak with you.”

“Um, okay.”

She held out her phone. “She tried to call you, but your cell is off. Here, use mine.”

“All right.” I took the phone and put it to my ear, not sure why the band’s publicist wanted to talk to me when she was in one of the cars behind the bus. “Hello?”

“Hello.” Gone was the obnoxious chipper manner I’d grown to loathe. This Christine was all business. “Ellie, as you know, you were required to get all questions posed to the band approved in advance.”

“Yeah.”

“I believe some of your questions were not approved.”

“What? You mean just now when I was talking to them?”

“Yes.”

“I… well, that’s probably right. But only follow-ups to comments they made.”

“Regardless, we’re going have to ask you to delete any video of answers to questions that were not approved.”

That raised my hackles. “Christine, it doesn’t work that way. It’s an interview, not a lie detector test. Context matters. Follow-ups are expected.”

She was about to reply when Becca took the phone out of my hand. “Christine, we’ll call you back,” she said and shoved it into her back pocket. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know she was going to do that.”

“It’s okay. I guess it’s her job.”

Becca nodded. “Here’s the thing though. She was wrong, but not entirely.”

I sighed. “I get it. Things went farther than anyone expected.”

“Yeah. The guys are working on being more open with you, but I think we can agree
that
was well past what you need for your site.”

I glanced over her shoulder and saw all four of the guys huddled together, looking miserable and worried. “Can I talk to them about it for a second? No camera.”

Becca agreed and let me by.

I went over to them hesitantly, unsure where to start. “Hey guys. Look…”

Joe held up a hand. “I know you’re just doing your job, but…”

“But you don’t want anyone to see what just happened.”

He nodded. “Every part of our lives is so public, but some things should stay private. Don’t you think?”

I did. They were all still mourning and more than anyone, I knew how long that process could take and how it could make your feelings fly out of your mouth at the worst possible times. I remembered being that little girl sitting in front of a camera, telling a world full of strangers she couldn’t see the most painful thing that ever happened to her.

Yeah, I understood where they were coming from. “How about this. You all take a few minutes and we’ll sit down again. Answer some more fan questions. Focus on the fun, light stuff.”

He shook his head. “We gotta ask you not to use that last bit.”

I thought about it. It was the right thing to do as a human being. And maybe, showing them I could be fair would help them trust me, and one day they’d share some deeper thoughts and feelings intentionally.

“Okay, deal. That stuff is gone.”

Rick narrowed his eyes. “How do we know for sure?”

Matthew put a hand on his shoulder. “Ellie gives us her word, right?”

“I do. You have my word. We’ll edit those last questions out, they won’t even go to our office.”

“Thank you,” Joe said.

“Anytime.” I felt good about my choice and went to fill Steven in. He frowned when I explained, but didn’t argue, and I pretty much forgot about all the drama.

The rest of the bus ride was uneventful. We got to our new hotel in the tour’s second city and all separated for the evening. I ate dinner and debated with myself about whether I was bold enough to call Matthew.

It turned out I wasn’t, and I spent the rest of the night watching movies and calling myself a coward.

When I turned off the television I swore that tomorrow would be different. And I was right. But not at all in the way I wanted or expected.

I woke to the sound of someone pounding hard on my door and stumbled groggily over to open it. I blinked a few times at the sight of Becca with tears in her eyes, face red with what looked like rage.

“We need to see you downstairs in the conference room, please. Right away.”

“Uh… can I get dressed?”

“Ten minutes.” She spun on her heel and was down the hall before I could say anything else.

What the fuck.
I wasn’t supposed to have anything until this afternoon. The band had rented out the hotel’s bar to host a meet-and-greet with some super fans, and we’d be shooting that, but otherwise, it was a slow day until show time.

I pulled on clothes and brushed my teeth, baffled, and checked my phone to figure out what was going on. All I saw was a ton of emails from the office about the footage Steven had sent last night. They were awfully excited about some silly stuff, but whatever. Happy bosses were a good thing.

When I got downstairs, Becca, Christine, and a few men in suits were waiting for me.

“Hi,” I said lamely.

“Sit down,” one of the suits said. He pressed a button on a laptop and the flat screen on the wall lit up, with the
HSTV
website on it. He hit another button and the video from yesterday began to play.

I was about to ask a question when I heard Joe’s voice coming out of the speakers.

Oh no.
It was the stuff we’d promised not to show. The footage that wasn’t supposed to ever leave the camera’s memory card.

“H-how did this happen?”

Stoney faces greeted my question.

Christine stood up. “That is exactly what we’d like to know, Ellie.”

“I have no idea. God, I’m so sorry.” I thought about the band. Especially Matthew. “Where are they? Where are the guys?”

“Upstairs in their suite.”

“I need to talk to them.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Becca said softly. “You’re the last person they want to see.”

She was right, but it didn’t matter. I had to see them. “I’ll come back once I understand what happened. I’ll figure this out.”

But as I rode up to the top floor, I knew there was only one way this could have happened. Steven sent all the footage by accident. He probably just forgot. But I was responsible, and there’s no way I was going to leave him to take the blame alone. I’d just apologize, call to get the video taken down and everything would be okay. It had to be.

When I got to the suite I knocked. No one answered so I tried the door and it was open. I went inside and saw chaos. Empty bottles of booze everywhere, sticky drying liquid on the floors and tables. There were even a few shards of broken glass next to the door as if someone had flung something delicate at it. This was worse than I thought.

I walked through to the small kitchen area, where the four members of the band were sitting. No one said anything.

“Guys, I just heard. I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry?” Joe spat. “You’re sorry. Do you think it’s that easy? You think you can betray us and just apologize? What kind of person are you?”

Rick crossed his arms and glared at me. “She’s not a person. She’s a fucking vulture. We knew this. Yesterday just confirms it.”

That pissed me off, and my frustration exploded. Everyone made mistakes and they were acting like I’d killed someone.

“I get it, I’m terrible. Scum of the earth. Whatever. But what you guys like to forget it, people like me are part of why you’re here. Your fans want to know everything about you. And the more they hear the more they want. And the more they want the more they buy your music. And concert tickets. And t-shirts and fucking mouse pads and stickers and hats and all that. Then they wear it around and all their friends want the cool shit too so
they
start paying attention. Talk about the music and your lives. And buy products who use your songs in their commercials. And go to movies with you on the soundtrack. All of that snowballs into making you the kings of the world you are right now. And do you think all of that would have happened without ‘vultures’ like me? No, it wouldn’t. You’d probably still be playing dive bars for beer and shots if Joe’s little waitress hadn’t captured public and press attention when he wrote that song about her. If Dex’s demons weren’t compelling stories that kept your faces and names out there. It all gives people a reason to listen to your music who wouldn’t otherwise. That’s how you sold millions of records. So before you try to burn me at the stake, think about where you’d be without the gossip. It helped make you.
I
helped make you. Fuck, I don’t want or expect you to thank me for it. But you can stop acting like I’m ruining your lives.”

I was breathing hard by the time I finished that speech. And not feeling any better.

I sighed. “Look, it was a mistake. And I’ll fix it if you just wait a minute.”

“Mistake? Is that what you said?” Dex asked.

“Yeah. Of course it was.”

“Matthew, mate. Read her the email.”

I startled. “What email?”

“The one
Hot Sheet
was kind enough to send when our label tore them a new one overnight. The one from your cameraman promising explosive footage they needed to see right away. Complete with times-tamps.”

“No,” I whispered. It was impossible. Steven had done it on purpose. Went behind my back and against my wishes. And turned me into the amoral monster they thought I was.

I thought I might throw up. “Excuse me,” I muttered before running off to the powder room I’d spotted nearby. Inside I locked the door and splashed cold water on my face until I could breathe normally again.

When I came back out, only Rick and Matthew were still in the room. The former was continuing to rant about me.

“Come on, it’s ridiculous. She isn’t even a real journalist, why would we expect her to have ethics? She’s just some chick who got a lucky break. All she ever wrote that wasn’t bullshit gossip was that thing about Ryan. And now the whole world is lining up to lick her ass for it? That’s stupid and everyone who works for us who agreed to this is stupid too. We should fire them all. Every last moron.”

“Don’t you think you’re being a little harsh?”

“No I don’t. Why do you?”

“You just said we should fire everyone. That’s overreacting.”

“Overreacting? How long do you want to let them do this to him? How many stories do you want to read about Ryan dying like it only matters because he worked for us.
Worked
for us, that’s what they say about him. That prick built this band from four piles of shit he found in the gutter.”

“I know that.”

“If you do, you’d feel the same way about all of this.”

“I do, but I don’t think hating Ellie is the solution.”

“Fuck Ellie. She’s just like the rest of them. Her and that cameraman she’s banging.”

“The –
what
?”

“Come on, you’ve seen them together. They’re totally fucking. She’s probably bouncing on his dick and plotting ways to trick us into telling them shit they can use to get a few more website visits.”

Matthew’s face went pale as death. And that’s the moment he looked over and saw me. The look he gave me sliced through me like a sword.

Rick wheeled around, snarling. “Of course. Of course you’re fucking lurking in the shadows. Want another scoop, gossip girl? Here’s one. Get the fuck out of here or I’m going to wring your neck.”

I ignored him completely, barely taking in his words. My attention was entirely dedicated to Matthew and the sadness and betrayal playing across his handsome face. And the worst emotion, the one that almost doubled me over, was resignation. Like he wasn’t surprised. He expected me to be everything Rick had said.

Matthew’s mouth opened, but he didn’t speak at first. He just looked at me. And then, his words cut deep. “That’s why you stopped things the other night. You’ll do almost anything to get our trust, but you drew the line at actually fucking me. Was that a professional thing or you didn’t want to cheat on your boyfriend? I’m trying to figure out what’s the line for someone like you.”

“It’s not true,” I said weakly. “None of that is true. Me and Steven. He’s… he’s my brother.”

Rick jumped in. “You crazy bitch. Is lying all you can do? You’re telling me that black guy you’re always hanging all over is your brother? And what, you’re the albino member of the family?”

“What? No, we-”

But he didn’t bother letting me explain. He stalked over and got in my face. “It doesn’t matter who you’re fucking or not fucking. You’re done. Over. I don’t care who I have to call or how many people I have to pummel. You’re off this tour and out of our lives. Today.”