Page 30 of Backstage

I let out an exasperated half-laugh. “Sure, because you could have handled the interview the same way you ‘handled’ Jenna’s, by panicking and almost blowing a concert at the sight of her. You realize you’re not ready for this yet?”

“And I never will be if you keep stepping in and messing up like you did a few hours ago!” she screams, so loudly her voice comes out broken.

“Stop it, both of you!” Evan’s voice overtakes both of ours, and we snap our heads in his direction; neither of us has the guts to say a word. “Are you two fucking? I need an answer and not the pre-packaged one we give the media. I need to know if I’m going to have to deal with any photos or videos in the future. I need to know the truth.”

“No!” exclaims Lilly.

“Well, could you at least not look so disgusted,” I say, barely keeping a smile on my face. She gives me stern look, which is about as intimidating as a duckling running towards me. “Anyway, like she said, there’s nothing. No romantic or sexual relationship.”

It shouldn’t be that hard to read the truth on my face. She’s the only woman I’ve ever resisted. Though God knows I’d like to lay her on that desk and own her in every way known to man. Evan should appreciate the effort, for crying out loud!

“Okay, we’ll make a joint statement where we’ll clarify the purely working relationship between two very talented artists,” Evan says, calming down.

“That makes no sense,” whispers Lilly, getting a frosty look from Evan and me. “Why do we have to explain this? Because that bitch Jenna gained a bunch of followers? It doesn’t make any sense, the whole mess they’re making.”

I agree with her to an extent. I don’t like having to justify something that never happened, even though I wanted it to. What bothers me the most about this whole situation is that my conscience tells me that maybe, deep down, Jenna’s right—I’d like to fuck Lilly, and it’s freaking me out.

“Because Damian walking away from that press conference confirmed something that isn’t there.” Evan’s voice is so calm and cold that I’m ashamed of my impulsive behavior.

“It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out,” Lilly says.

I glare at her. “I don’t know if you understood anything I said two minutes ago, but just so you know, I did it for you! And you know what? Fuck you! Next time I’ll leave you to drown in these shit situations and I won’t give a fuck about the consequences you’ll have to face!”

I regret my words at once; I can see they wounded her. “No one’s ever asked you for anything,” she whispers as she looks down her hands.

“Please stop,” Evan says, trying to make us listen to reason. “We don’t have time for drama between you two, okay? In the meantime, disappear for a few days and stay out of sight. Sooner or later, the rumors will die down, and they’ll find someone else to torture.”

Lilly’s bitter laugh gets our attention. Why the hell is she so amused? “He’s got a super penthouse in Tribeca he can hide in and get food for himself. I live in a 40-square-foot hole in Brooklyn with my family, who now hate me because of the paparazzi always lurking around the house. Where the hell am I supposed to go? I can’t just disappear.”

She’s got a point. She can’t even go to a coffee shop on the corner without making the front page of some media outlet. I can live in that apartment for a whole month. She can’t even go to the bathroom without taking shifts. I feel responsible for her situation. At the end of the day, if it weren’t for my fame, Lilly would be living it up.

“Come away with me for a few days,” I find myself proposing without thinking about it.

She looks at me like I’m an idiot. “Are you out of your mind? How’s that supposed to make the rumors disappear?”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Evan says, coming to my rescue. “Go out of state. The paparazzi won’t chase you there. There are a few places we’ve managed to keep secret, and that would give you a chance to breathe a bit and get rid away from the pressure here.”

I raise an eyebrow in a silent “I told you so” towards her, and find her staring right at me.

“No way,” she stubbornly insists. I think she’s the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met, and she gets on my nerves like few others in my life. I almost wish I hadn’t suggested it.

Evan gets down on his knees in front of her, grabs her hands between his, and softens his eyes. “Please, Lilly. Have faith in me. I’m trying to clean up the mess this hothead has made, but you need to try and disappear for a few days and make my job easier, okay?”

I look at my friend, tilting my head a bit. He could have spared me the veiled insult in order to convince her, but looking at her face, I can tell my manager’s good at this.

Lilly looks up at the ceiling and makes a sound of frustration. “All right, but if I kill him during this time, it’s your fault,” she finally concedes, pointing the finger at Evan’s knowing smile.

*

Max leaves us in front the rather imposing front door to my villa in Connecticut, and Lilly looks around like a little girl seeing the Christmas tree in Rockefeller Center for the first time: wide-eyed, open-mouthed and looking around dreamily. Luckily, she left the pissed off attitude in Manhattan

“This is yours...this...I don’t even know what to call it,” she says as she walks in, lingering on every detail. I have to admit that the dark, classic wood furniture, in stark contrast to the white, modern furniture in my Manhattan apartment, gives this place a rather majestic, though warm and welcoming look.

“Home?” I chuckled amusedly, remembering that I, too, at first, behaved just like her, only with less wonder and without that dreamy look on my face. She looks like a fucking Disney princess right now, the one who walks into the library and drops her pants for the Beast.

“My whole apartment could fit in half your living room. I wouldn’t exactly call it home,” she points out, turning to me for the first time.

I smile and put my suitcases next to the sofa. I called before I showed up here, and the maid was kind enough to light the fireplace and prepare everything. I also found a bottle of red wine and some snacks on the coffee table. I must say, she’s learned my taste and knows my style. I have to remember to give her a raise for Christmas.

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