Page 80 of Revelry

Deb continues barking directives, “Cooper, if you don’t calm the fuck down right this second, I’m gonna have Zed strap you down, and imagine what that’s going to do for publicity.”

The windows on the tour bus are tinted, but that means nothing when you have a telescopic lens and a big-arse flash, or so we’d learned when we left San Francisco and pics were snapped of the boys chugging back a celebratory beer at the dining table as we’d pulled out of the lot there.

“I can’t believe you hit him,” Coop sneers at Levi.

“What, like you weren’t gonna do the same thing?”

Cooper grinds his teeth. “Yeah, I was.”

My teeth bang together. I know I should try to get warm, but I’m in shock. It’s kind of a stupid thing to be in shock over, because it’s not like I just got beat up, or raped, or had a car accident. I just made a colossal mistake, and the whole world now has a front row seat.

“I think I’m gonna be sick again,” I mutter, and my knees give out a little. Zed catches me, and I stare up at him like a deer in headlights.

“Jesus Christ, someone get her in a fucking warm shower,” Deb says.

Both Coop and Levi make a move towards me and come to a stalemate. Deb throws up her arms and says, “Fucking hell, will you two idiots pull your goddamn heads in?”

Then she leads me away from them and into the tiny bathroom. Once inside, she shuts the door and bends down to untie my shoes. “Eeew, gross.”

“Oh yeah,” I say through chattering teeth. “I kinda threw up on my shoes.”

“Ya, sure did,” she exclaims, and then mutters something about not being paid enough money for this job.

“You know, you’d make a good manager,” I say.

“What?”

“You’re bossy, and you handle those boys better than anyone.”

“Well despite what they’d have the public think, there really isn’t that much to handle. They’re a bunch of idiots.”

“Yeah, I kinda got that.”

“Listen, as kinky as the press are gonna make this shit out to be, I know that’s not why you’re here. But you need to be prepared, they’re gonna have a field day with this shit, and no one is going to spare the feelings of a cute redhead who is banging two of the world’s hottest band members. This very well could ruin your career and theirs. So you all need to sort out your shit.”

“I just can’t believe we were stupid enough to do that in public, and I can’t believe someone would stoop low enough to sell that to the press.”

“People will do anything for money, Ali. The sooner you learn that, the better off you and the boys will be.” She leans around me and runs the water. “Now do you need me to undress you or have you got it covered?”

“I got it. I’m fine.”

“Good, then take as long as you like, but remember none of them have showered after coming off-stage, so unless you want the bus to smell like stinky jock sweat all night, I’d save a little hot water if I were you.”

Once she’s gone, I undress and jump beneath the weak, warm spray. Sadly, it’s not even hot enough to take the chill from my bones, but at least I don’t smell like vomit anymore. Deb or one of the boys must have gone through my stuff to find me some clothes, because there’s a pair of jammies sitting just inside the door when I get out of the shower. I dry and put them on, and then I open the door to face the music. Pity the music is just a mess of my own creation.

The giant flat screen shows video footage of the elevator where we had sex. The elevator where we had sex, believing we were in the dark. Because if the elevator was down, then surely the computers and cameras were, too, because that totally makes sense.

I sigh internally, covering my face with my hands as I watch a black and white us go at it in the lift with tiny pixelated black squares that say “too rude” covering our bits from the world. It looks as though whoever was operating the camera that day figured himself an amateur porn cameraman, because it cuts to several different angles and zooms in on the money shot, which is of course of Levi coming down my throat while Cooper comes inside me.

“Well if you’re gonna make a porno, there are certainly worse ways to do it,” Deb says. “Levi, I never gave you enough credit. I apologise to your penis. It’s fucking huge.”

“Can you stop watching this please?” Coop says to Deb through gritted teeth.

The segment cuts back to an overly tanned reporter in a tight dress, and pictures of our “Wild North American Tour” flash up on the screen one at a time. Cooper hustling a soaking wet, doe-eyed version of me out of the car tonight, the vomit on my lucky red Cons clearly visible. Levi pinching my arse as I walked through the lobby of Wynn in Vegas in only a blanket. There’s another of Levi punching the pap, and a shot of the guy laid out on the ground. The camera pans back to the reporter, showing her standing with a man out the front of the Bridgestone Arena. His face is vaguely familiar, and it takes me a moment or two to place him. The driver from the hotel in Little Rock.

He talks to the reporter about how we openly engaged in sexual intercourse in the back of his limo, and I want to die.

“There you have it. These wild rockers and their redhead are reportedly the real thing. But with all the backlash this is sure to bring our mysterious Aussie redhead, has she bitten off more than she can chew?” the reporter asks, with a fake smile and a nasty gleam in her eye, and then they show an image of me, taken not more than two hours ago chowing down on a hotdog. My skin looks pasty, my hair is up in a messy bun, there’s mustard on my face, and my eyes are round and surprised. I look like shit. I look like a stunned mullet. It’s the most unflattering photo of me ever taken, and that little bitch sold it toE!fuckingNews?

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