Ruin Porn (32 page)

“Why you offended, Miah?” Finn continued. “You are our supposed leader. But you must be losing your touch, ’cause you definitely weren’t leading anything except a suckfest on that stage tonight.”

Miah stalked toward Finn, and Mark put a hand to his chest, stopping him. “We’re gonna do this here, huh? Can’t even get to the table to have a civilized dinner anymore, hey, boyo?”

Ritchie stayed rooted to the spot. A week ago he would have tried to stand between them or talk them down. But obviously getting in their way wasn’t cutting it anymore. Maybe what they needed to do was really have it out.

“Civilized,” Finn scoffed. “That implies you have higher brain functions and you’re not just a monkey attempting to spew your jizz on every continent.”

Miah’s eyes narrowed. “Says the man dragging his piece of ass across the world with him so he has a place to make his own cum deposits.”

Ritchie reeled back like Miah had struck out at him. “Miah!” he began to reproach him, but Finn was already going for him and Alessandra was having no issue defending herself with a verbal onslaught, both of them being held back by the extra security Sid had brought in.

He felt a tug on his shoulder, a hand restraining him, and realized Evin had a fist balled into the fabric. Ritchie could have pulled out of Evin’s grasp with ease, but that touch was just enough to remind Ritchie this wasn’t
his
fight.

“What the fuck was that shit tonight anyway?” Miah screamed. “This was the worst concert we’ve performed by fucking far and none of you seem to give two shits that you not only fucked up, but that you fucked my rep over. And I don’t just mean you, Reese. All of you fucked up tonight,” Miah continued, pulling Ritchie and Evin directly into the line of fire.

Ritchie had been quiet up until then, but Miah was going too far. He stepped forward and put a finger in Miah’s face. “You’ve reached your lifetime limit on the amount of bullshit you can spew and still be forgiven for getting caught up in the heat of the moment.”

Miah shook his head. “This isn’t bullshit and you know it.”

Evin gave an audible intake of breath behind Ritchie, but Ritchie was laser-focused on Miah, his anger long-coiled inside him and each of Miah’s words like a saw, cutting through the ropes holding it all together.

“You know what the VP of Talent Development told me? No one at KMA Music expected us to get this big. They think this is a fluke.” Miah sneered and Ritchie knew—he knew with dangerous clarity—that what was coming out of Miah’s mouth next would be unforgivable. Miah’s blown-out eyes tracked each one of them as he said, “You know what I think? He’s right. You’re all more replaceable than you want to believe.”

Finn went still. “You know what? Fuck you. All you’ve ever done is fucking threaten us, beat us down, and pretend like you have the biggest fucking cock in town and everyone is begging to choke on it.” Finn was visibly shaking, and Ritchie wanted to side with him, wanted to comfort him, but still couldn’t find his voice. His oldest friendships were falling apart in front of him, and he didn’t know how to hold them together anymore.

“You remember that clause Ritchie and I have in our contracts that gave you final say on all business decisions when it came to Rez?” Finn said. “We did that shit because we trusted you. And for the fucking life of me, I can’t remember why the fuck I ever did. So go ahead, Thade. Exercise your fucking contractual rights and bounce me. Tell me to get the fuck out and I will.”

“You fucking coward,” Miah seethed through a snarl. “You’ve never wanted this—”

But Ritchie didn’t hear one more word. He pushed through the doors and back into the chaos of the fans. The possibility of being trampled to death was more appealing than listening to one more thing either of them had to say.

E
VIN
STARED
at the ceiling of his hotel room, a dull ache of tamped-down unease crawling through his veins. Every time he tried to think, to piece together what the hell he’d seen go down tonight between Miah and Finn, to try to understand if Miah really meant what he said about all of them…. His brain protested the activity and simply shut down.

He stared at the white ceiling, watched the red and blue flash of some LCD billboard glowing through his window, and listened to the nothing that filled his room. For once he had a room to himself, but even that development was for all the wrong reasons.

There was a soft knock on his door, and Evin remained lying down, his heels pressed into the comforter, palms flat on his belly. There was no way in fuck he was moving to see who that was. He wouldn’t open that door for any of the Detroit 3 tonight.

The knock came again—two soft taps in quick succession—and Evin clamped his eyes shut. That sound was too gentle, too unobtrusive, to be any of the three men he didn’t want to see but desperately needed to talk to. Too polite to be a fan. Too insistent to be someone who would just leave him the fuck alone if he didn’t answer.

The double tap resounded through the room again, and Evin rolled off the bed and trudged to the door. He was met with a familiar and completely unexpected face when he looked through the peephole. He undid the safety lock and opened the door for Shonda.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Hey,” she said. “I know we didn’t spend much time together in France, but I’m not here in an official capacity. Both Sid and Mark have cleared me if you need to run it by them.”

Evin huffed and stepped back so she could come in. “Off the record
and
approved by management? This should be entertaining. Come on in. It’s not like tonight can get any less fucked.”

Shonda settled into the chair at the desk. She slipped off her shoes and swiveled around to face Evin.

“There are rumors spinning that Finn is gay and Alessandra is his beard. The whisperings are just that—relatively quiet for now. For the most part, they can be buried by your PR agency. I was in town for your show anyway, so I talked to Sid to let him know. That, Ev, is why I’m here.”

Evin scratched at his beard. “Okay. But why are you
here
? In my room?”

Shonda used her thumb to twirl the rings on her right hand as she studied him. “Because the same rumors are starting up with you too.”

While the Evin of a few months ago would have blushed or put his head in his hands and avoided saying anything that could be incriminating, this version of Evin had no problem flashing some smoke and mirrors. He’d seen enough of it lately.

“If fans thinking I’m gay is the biggest issue I have right now, then I’m fucking golden. I’m guessing if you talked to Sid, then you already know that.”

“I do.”

“So why the hell does Sid think I would have any interest in knowing this, let alone talking to you about any of this clusterfuck?”

Shonda leaned back in her chair. “Because I’m a closeted lesbian in an entertainment industry that is still way too homophobic.”

Evin didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t say anything.

“Mark told me you have a couple days off,” Shonda continued. “I know how this PR game works. I know what angle you and Finn need to play to get the right pictures papped to keep your super hetero image in place. But most of all, I know how to do it all without losing yourself. Miah is on his way to Brazil. That leaves you, Ritchie, and Finn…. Let’s get you on a plane to somewhere you can breathe.”

F
INN
WAS
going to die before he got to paradise. Which seemed pretty damn fitting since he was sure that he wasn’t going anywhere near paradise after he died either.

Next to him Shonda yelped and grabbed on to his hand as the plane did another sickening drop into the gray rain clouds surrounding the island they were trying to land on. This was the third time the plane had attempted landing at the Boracay airport and the third time there was a lurch and then the stomach flattening g-force of the plane ascending out of the clouds.

“This is not helping me breathe,” Evin said from the row behind him and Shonda.

“It will be worth it when we get there,” Shonda reassured them. “White-sand beaches—”

“—drinks, nightclubs, and world-class food,” Finn finished as he gripped the armrest and watched the plane circle the cloud-covered island again. “We got it. None of which is worth my life in trade.”

But Finn was eating his words—and a fucking stellar fish pizza, who knew that combination would be so delicious—three hours later when he, Ritchie, Evin, and Shonda were all sitting at a table literally on a white-sand beach overlooking a perfect orange sunset. He was Alessandra-less, had a cold drink in hand, a warm breeze floating around him, live music curling through the air, and Evin across from him…. Well, Evin looked much more relaxed than he had since they’d gotten their tats in Australia. This exact moment was definitely worth more than the current value of his sad, hidden life.

He didn’t know for sure why Evin had been so distant since Oz, but he wasn’t dense enough to miss that Evin avoided him anytime Alessandra was around. Sid had been cryptic when he sent Alessandra home and told Finn and Ritchie to pack up their shit and take a couple days off. That Shonda was traveling with them—almost like their handler—confused him even more. But Sid trusted her, and honestly, Finn didn’t really care to know the why. He was done with thinking.

For the first time in months, they were without an entourage and bodyguards. Maybe it was because no one really did know where they were, or maybe it was because Miah wasn’t with them. They looked like every other group of American college kids partying it up on the tropical island. Baseball caps, sunglasses, and tats were part of the tourist uniform here, and they all blended in more than Finn could have anticipated.

“This place is fucking perfect,” Evin said to Shonda, a wide grin spreading across his face.

She bumped her shoulder against his. “I know.” She wiped her hands on her napkin and waved the waiter over, asking for the check. “Let’s finish dinner. The nightclubs will open up soon. We can walk the beach and hop from place to place.”

Finn swiped the check when the waiter came back. “It’s on me.”

Ritchie and Shonda headed down the beach, chatting and pointing out the gathering entertainment as the sun began to set. Evin walked a step behind Finn and Finn had to do what he could to try to close that distance. He jogged up the beach and grabbed two drinks, bringing one back and handing it to Evin.

“Come on, Ev. Sit. Drink with me and watch the sunset.”

Evin looked around as if he was checking out who was watching them, then gave what appeared to be a reluctant nod.

They sat in the white sand, still warm from the height of the day, and Finn buried his toes in the silk of the beach. He’d never felt anything like this before. He tilted back his beer and stared out at the horizon. Layers of puffy white clouds rolled over the ocean at a far enough distance that they wouldn’t make landfall, but their height brought the vastness of the blue into perspective. They were on the opposite side of the world from Detroit, farther away from home than Finn had ever been, and yet this man at his side was all he needed to be grounded. Why couldn’t they seem to get this right?

Finn sighed. “Sometimes I forget just how big the sky is.”

Evin was quiet for a moment, then, “This would be the perfect place to disappear.”

Finn chuckled. “Too long of a flight. I’ve got this place in Northern Michigan, middle of fucking nowhere on a lake called Shag Lake—”

Evin laughed, then stopped abruptly, seemingly surprised he’d let down his guard enough to laugh.

Finn’s stomach churned, but he kept talking. “Yep, I know. Shag Lake. It’s a for-real place, though. Next to this tiny town called Gwinn. Anyway, not even Miah and Ritchie know where it is.”

Evin hummed next to him and leaned back, his right arm brushing against Finn’s back as he braced himself. It was the first contact they’d had in days, and Evin immediately pulled away again.

“I bet it’s, like, silent,” Evin finally said.

“In the best way,” Finn agreed.

Evin picked up his bottle and downed the contents. “You know, if we’re going to do the wasted tourist thing, let’s do it up right. Finish that and I’ve got the next round.”

Frustrated that Evin had swerved again on anything personal, Finn faked a smile and finished his own drink. Maybe if he and Evin just drank enough, they would be able to get past whatever was inhibiting them. Maybe with a happy buzz, everything that had gone wrong would be wiped away and what was important would come back into focus.

“Okay.” Finn tipped back and his beer and downed the contents.

Beers two through five were interspersed with shots of warm, sweet liquors that sloshed in Finn’s stomach and made his vision swirl. But nothing about him and Evin became clearer—it all just got worse. Evin talked with Ritchie and Shonda. He chatted up random women at each bar they went to and danced, even though Finn knew he hated doing it because he said he had no sense of how to carry his body. Evin smiled and laughed through all of it, his inhibitions dispersing with each drink he knocked back…. All expect for the barrier he steadfastly maintained between the two of them even in his happy, inebriated state.

So Finn drank more.

As a star-filled sky popped out, Finn’s awareness blinked in and out. The more he drank, the more he hated himself, the more he wanted to break this tension between him and Evin. But no matter how much he drank, he couldn’t find the words to bridge the growing gap. Before long, he could barely keep his eyes open and he was ordering another round of shots for their group and the bakla in a bikini sitting next to him at the bar, not even attempting to keep up as the bakla and Shonda discussed gender politics.

“Fuck gender,” Finn interjected, pushing his face between them. “It only gets us in trouble.”

Shonda reeled back and stared at him. She swayed on the chair, or maybe he swayed.

“Recognition of their real gender identity is important to some people,” Shonda said. Or Finn thought she had, but he couldn’t be sure about anything besides that Evin hated him.