Page 35 of Living on the Edge

There’s another weird, awkward silence.

“I have to think on it,” Jonny says finally.

Then he turns and quietly lets himself out of the room.

Chapter10

Ryleigh

The tensionon the bus is so thick you could cut it with a knife. The guys in the band aren’t talking.

At all.

Angus is up on the top bunk, headphones on, ignoring everyone.

Jonny is either sleeping or pretending to.

Sam and Kirsten are watching a movie on someone’s laptop.

Mick is fiddling on his phone.

And Tate is reading.

I don’t know what I was expecting but complete silence isn’t it.

I was so relieved that I had a reason to stay on the tour, I didn’t put a lot of thought into the logistics of what might happen when Angus’s identity was made public. In theory, Rich’s idea to cover the aftermath of leaking the story sounds like a great way to solidify my place at the magazine.

In practice, it’s much different.

Crimson Edge doesn’t consist of hypothetical musicians. They’re real people, who’ve become my friends over the last nine days.

Making money from their misfortune suddenly feels weird.

Deep down, I honestly thought it wouldn’t be a big deal among the members of the band because I thought they had to know. We assumed the bigger fallout would come from the fans. Considering how hated his family became after raising the prices on those chemo drugs, I was expecting the fans to have a lot to say.

Instead, it’s the band who appears to be upset and, so far, readers online don’t seem to care that much. There are some comments about being able to buy a record deal, but beyond that, the music speaks for itself. They write all their own songs and people seem to like them, so there isn’t much to report from that side. It’s been less than twenty-four hours, so that could change, but I’m not seeing much in the way of discontent from their fan base.

If I’m honest, now that I’m in the thick of things, I don’t want to write a story about the band imploding. I’m almost finished with the story about Lexi, so I’m hoping that takes the focus off of what’s going on with Crimson Edge, but I’m starting to remember why I wanted to focus on being an influencer instead of pursuing a job in journalism.

You need health insurance.

I finish my story about Lexi and email it to Rich, hoping it will get him off my back. That’s the story he wanted in the first place—this thing about Angus is a bonus—but Rich is like a dog with a bone when it comes to getting a scoop.

He’s been texting me all day asking for updates, and I keep telling him the same thing—everything is quiet. I make it sound like everyone is drunk and hungover, half- asleep, even though that’s not even close to the truth.

Now that Angus’s identity is out, he needs to do an interview or make some kind of statement talking about why. Either him individually or the band as a whole. I don’t know him that well but I can tell he’s a private guy. He looks like he’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders right now and I feel a pinch of guilt.

Because I did this.

I don’t owe him anything, and it’s not my fault he lied, but the mood on the bus is totally different than it’s been before today.

I hate the thought that I could be the cause of them breaking up. I don’t know if things are that bad, but I would be devastated if that happened.

I really don’t want to be some kind of Crimson Edge Yoko Ono.

One of many reasons I didn’t want this job.

Except for that pesky little health insurance thing.

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