Page 95 of Revelry

“Ah shit, Red—”

“Was it real? Was any of it real, or was I just a puppet in your little game?” she asks, her voice breaking with that last word.

“What are you talking about?” Levi asks.

At the same time I say, “Of course it’s real. Just let me explain. It’s not what you think it is.”

“Was everyone in on it?” She glares at me, tears pouring down her face in a torrent. “Was I the only idiot who didn’t know?”

“No one was in on anything, babe,” Levi says

“Levi, can you give us a minute?” My nostrils flare, and I growl through my teeth.

He turns his anger on me. “No fucking way. I’ve spent years lying down and rolling over for you, Ryan. I’m not doing that any fucking longer.”

“Both of you get out,” Ali whispers.

“Ali,” Levi says.

“Please? I’m tired. I just want some time to think,” she says. I try sliding my hand into hers, but she flinches and pulls it away. “Can you give me that? Some time?”

“Yeah,” I say, kissing her on the head. She flinches, but doesn’t pull away.

“I’ll be out in the waiting room,” I say.

“We’ll both be in the waiting room,” Levi clarifies, glowering at me, as if he’s trying to prove a fucking point.

Levi is the first to leave, and I try to ignore the sound of the sob that breaks free from Ali as I stand in the doorway, my back to her. She asked for time to think—I’ll give it to her gladly, but I’ll be a dead man before I let her walk away from me.

Leaving the hospital later that day was a nightmare. We were taken through a back entrance in order to dodge the legions of fans and reporters, but where there are world famous rock stars, there’s someone willing enough to make a buck, and then there are reporters. We’re practically accosted as the doors swing back on the staff entrance and we file out into the blinding late afternoon sunlight.

“Fuck,” Coop grunts.

“Fucking vultures,” Levi murmurs. The boys wedge me between them, shielding my body on the way to the car, but they can’t shield me from the vile words of the press. My name is called, and I’m asked repeatedly whether I have any comment on the naked pictures splashed across the tabloids, and then one reporter, a woman, squeezes through the throng. She shoves her microphone in my face and asks, “Ali, how did you feel when the pictures went viral? Are they what led to your overdose?”

I stop breathing.

I see the woman, and the boys’ questioning faces when they realise I’ve stopped. I see it all, as if the world is in slow motion and only I am moving, and then everything speeds up, and my fury is so consuming. I lunge at her. Cameras flash, and the reporter screams as she darts out of my reach. Grant, Taint’s new head of security, pulls me away before I can connect with her face. Cooper stares at me with wide eyes and grabs my arm, wrenching me along behind him and into the waiting car.

Cameras continue to flash, snapping up whatever they can through the tinted windows. Reporters and paps shout questions at the three of us. It’s a circus. Lenses are pushed up against the glass, the sounds of a hundred shutters fills my head, and I want to scream, because it takes me right back to that bus. On the inside, I am screaming. Outwardly, though? I remain in my seat, wedged between the boys, determined not to give the press any more blood for the feeding frenzy. My head hurts from the drugs, my body aches all over, and my heart hurts so bad it’s as though it just exploded, and I’m scrounging in amongst the debris, gathering pieces of it that I know couldn’t possibly fit back together, but I’m trying all the same.

Grant climbs into the front seat beside a driver I don’t know, and slowly, inch-by-inch, we move through the throng of reporters and drive away.

“Well, that went about as well as we could expect,” Levi says. I don’t reply, and neither does Coop. The three of us ride back to the bus in silence.

When we pull up alongside the bus, the guys get out and I sit in the car for a moment while I try to process everything that’s happened during the last twenty-four hours. I’m suddenly so tired and sad, and I just want to go home.

I feel the weight of so many sets of eyes on me, all of the band and road crew wondering why I’m just sitting here as Cooper holds the door open, but I can’t meet their faces. I lower my gaze and head for the bus, when out of nowhere I’m engulfed in Zed.

“I’m so sorry, Ali. I’m sorry,” he chants in my ear, squeezing me so tightly I can’t breathe. His big barrel chest tremors against mine. “I’m sorry.”

I don’t want to be touched right now. I definitely don’t want to have all the breath squeezed from my lungs because I already feel as if I’m swimming underwater and I can’t find a way to break the surface. I can’t come up for air, but I find myself hugging the giant freak back as tears drip from my lashes. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s really fucking not,” Zed whispers, and holds me a little tighter before releasing me.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Deb says, and I turn around to face her. I’m a little surprised, actually. “I mean, what he did sucks. I’m going to string him up by his balls when I see him next. But I’m glad you’re back.” She frowns, looking down at her designer heels and then back up to my face. “Because you know … being the only female on a bus full of these idiots sucks.”

“Yeah,” I agree half-heartedly and hurry towards the bus, because James is looking impatient, and if I know him he’s keen to get back on the road as quickly as possible.

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