Page 79 of Revelry

“Why didn’t you answer your phone? What the fuck, Ali? You disappear when I’m onstage. James said you were accosted by groupies, and then you just sprinted off into the night by yourself. Do you know how stupid that is? Where the fuck are you? The bus is ready to leave. I’m getting in a cab and I’m coming to find you.”

“I don’t know, okay?” I mutter, on the verge of tears. “I have no idea where I am. I’m lost and I’m cold and they know.”

“Who knows? What are you talking about? Are you high?”

“No, I’m not high,” I snap. “Everyone knows, Coop.”

“Ali-Cat, you gotta talk to me, babe. Everyone knows what?”

“About us. Levi, you and me.” I swallow down the lump in my throat, tasting bile. “There’s a video.”

“FUCK!”

“I’m going to go home.”

“What are you talking about? You’re not going home. Tell me where you are and I’ll come find you.”

“I don’t know where I am, Coop. I don’t know what I’m doing.” Tears fall down my face in a torrent, washed away by the rain. I bend over, clutching my stomach again, though I know there’s nothing left to purge. “How did we get here?”

“Fuck, Ali, don’t fucking freak out on me now. Look around you. Where are you? Is there a street sign?” I peer up the road, locating one. “I’m on Wiltshire Street.”

“Wiltshire Street, now,” he says, I assume to a cab driver because I hear his door slam and the soft rumbling of an engine in the background. “I’m in the car. I’ll be there in twenty minutes, okay? We’re going to sort this out. We’ll figure it out, just … no more talk of leaving, you got me?”

“Okay,” I whisper.

“Ali?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m really sorry, babe. This is all my fault.”

I shake my head, as though he could see. “No, it’s not. It’s mine.”

After twenty minutes of standing in the freezing cold rain, a cab pulls up and Cooper jumps out before it’s even pulled over to the curb.

“Ali,” he says as he wraps me up in his arms. He smells like sweat and cologne, a heady mixture.

“Fuck, you scared the shit outta me.” He pulls back to look at my face. “You okay?”

My teeth chatter and my whole body quakes as I nod, and then I shake my head and lean into him.

He doesn’t say anything about the vomit on my shoes, or more than likely on my breath, and I appreciate that. Instead, he bundles me up in his coat and hurries me inside the cab, instructing the driver to take us back to the stadium. When we pull up outside the lot at the back, there are more than just fangirls waiting—set up around a barricade is several paparazzi.

Levi, Zed and Ash all pose for photos with fans and sign pictures and skin for the awaiting fans while the photographers go to town on the free picture opp. That is until the cab door opens and Cooper steps out, and then the vultures descend.

Stadium security presses the crowd back, but the paps sneak through, catcalling to Cooper, “Who’s the redhead?” and “Is it true the video was a publicity stunt?”

Cooper’s face is stoic, until one reporter asks whom I like having sex with more, and Cooper freezes. He lets go of me, and whirls, fists ready to fly, but Levi gets there first. He smacks the guy out in front of everyone, and all to a barrage of flashing cameras. I bury my face in my hands as I’m ushered into the bus by Zed, while Ash and Levi push Cooper inside after us.

“Guess we know who top dog is in the bed room,” another pap calls, but the damage is already done.

“Fuck!” Cooper shouts, kicking the shit out of the coffee table.

James peels away from the edge of the curb, but the throng of bodies is so tight we’re not moving anywhere. I stand, shivering in Cooper’s coat, and Deb hops up from the couch, springing into action.

“Ash, get Vanessa on the phone.” She points to Levi. “This idiot needs a lawyer’s council before we cross the border and leave the state. And we need someone on the phone to that hotel. Find out who uploaded the tape. That shit needs to be taken down now.”

Ash pulls his phone from his pocket and wanders off towards the back of the bus.

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