Page 80 of Backstage

I reach out my arm and find half the bed empty. Opening my eyes, I feel lost when I see Damian isn’t next to me. Last night, after the concert, we went back to the hotel together and talked for hours. About how he felt after the accusations made against him, how I feel after what he said to me, how we’ll move forward from here, since telling the whole world he loves me. We don’t have all the answers, but one thing we are sure of, we want to build something together.

I know he’s not used to this kind of relationship; he’s said several times that he’s going to screw up for sure, but I’ve decided it’s worth a try. We made peace—or rather, we made love—three times to reassure me that he was lying when he told me I was a mediocre fuck. I believe him. Waking up without him in bed, though, it upsets me, and I’m a little afraid he’s had second thoughts.

I turn my back, ready to get up, and find him sitting in the armchair next to the bed, looking at me with a smile. He almost gives me a heart attack. “Has anyone ever told you you’re creepy when you sit there watching people sleep?”

Damian laughs, then gets up and comes over with a breakfast tray. “You’re beautiful when you sleep.”

“Just so I know, are you gonna be sweet and cheesy like this all the time, or can I have the gruff bear I fell in love with back in the beginning?”

He laughs and kisses me on the forehead before he sits down next to me to eat the cinnamon rolls and coffee he ordered. “I’m still the same, except I’m happy.”

I raise an eyebrow. “You’re talking like a fortune cookie.”

“Will you stop making fun of me?” He kisses me and bites my neck, making me shudder.

“Never,” I laugh.

He gives me a light kiss on the lips, then grabs the coffee cup and sips it. “What time’s your press conference?”

I look at my cell phone and grimace because I’m late. “In an hour, I have to hurry up and do my makeup.”

“Are you nervous?”

“Evan just wants to introduce us to the world as his newest signing. Why would I be nervous? It’s not like there’s any pressure from the label.” I roll my eyes.

Damian smiles, and then he hugs me. “It’s gonna be okay. Evan will intercept the most difficult questions. He’s particularly good at this. He saved our ass several times at the beginning of our career. And you know the first question they’re gonna ask you is gonna be about me, right?” He smiles.

I look at him, outraged. “No, it won’t be about you. You declared your love last night on a stage. And you ruined the gossip in the media by doing it so blatantly.”

Damian laughs but doesn’t press it while I get up and change into the clothes Sid left us.

*

The hotel room set up for the press conference is already packed with photographers. I turn to Luke, Taylor, and Martin, and I realize they’re just as nervous as I am. This is our first press conference as a band, our first encounter with journalists.

“Your faces are terrified.” Evan approaches with a compassionate smile on his face. Who knows how many times he’s calmed bands down as rookies? I can’t imagine the Jailbirds were as lost as we feel at first.

“It’s because weareterrified,” says Martin.

Evan puts his hand on his shoulder and smiles at him in that fatherly way he has. “They won’t eat you, don’t worry. Remember, I’m here to intercept any questions that might prove critical. I’ve tried to extend the invitation only to journalists I’ve known for a while, and they won’t go too far.”

He doesn’t give us time to answer before opening the door wide and pushing us in. The flashes start as soon as we make our appearance, and the nervousness sets in. However, the fascination of sitting on this side of the table with all the microphones in front of us is exhilarating. The audience of about thirty journalists is not as scary as I expected. Most of them are middle-aged men with harmless faces.

“Luckily, our names are on the back of the nameplates on the table because I’ve already forgotten where to sit,” Martin whispers in my ear, and I burst out laughing. I, too, forgot about the arrangement Evan suggested.

Our manager starts the press conference as he always does with the Jailbirds, introduces us as his new group, then opens it up for questions.

“The first question is for Lilly.” A relatively young guy smiles from the third row, drawing my attention. My stomach’s in a vice grip. “What would you call your relationship with Damian Jones?”

I look at him for a few seconds with eyes wide open, then I look over at Evan, and he seems irritated.

“No personal questions,” our manager says.

I think back to Damian’s words, and I burst out laughing so loudly that all eyes are on me, including those of my bandmates. Nervousness really plays tricks on me. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to...but just out of curiosity...” Evan’s looking at me all wide-eyed, and the reporter seems surprised that I’ve turned the question back on him. “There are twenty thousand videos of Damian sticking his tongue in my mouth on stage at the Staples Center. Isn’t it clear?”

The reporters all start laughing and Martin can’t hold back either, while Luke, on the other side, has a hand in front of his mouth, trying not to laugh. Evan’s rubbing his temple with his fingers while a smile spreads across his face. The guy who asked the question laughs and sits down again.

“Are you getting married?” thunders someone from the back of the room that I can’t quite see.

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