Page 52 of Paparazzi

I stand panting in his arms, feeling him inhale deep into my hair, and when he moves away just enough to look me in the face, a serene smile greets me.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

It takes a few seconds to realize he’s talking about my battered shoulder. And I shake my head.

“Hurt is not a term I would apply to this situation.”

Thomas chuckles as he grabs me by the butt and lifts me from the stool, leading me to the bed, still unmade since this morning. We slip under the blankets, and he wraps me in a hug that seems to melt our two souls into one.

“I wish I could stay here with you for the rest of my life,” he whispers in my ear.

I hold on to him and feel my heart explode with happiness. “Me too,” I reply, whispering too, for fear that this magic will end.

“You’re completely out of your mind.”

Michael’s voice is the first sound we hear following the silence that falls in Evan’s office after I speak. I asked our manager to gather the guys here so I could explain a plan I was excited about sharing with them, but given their faces, I’m not so sure anymore. Even Simon, who’s back from Connecticut, is looking at me with wide eyes.

“What the hell did I miss in the month I’ve been away from New York?” our bassist asks.

Lilly responds for me, the only non-Jailbird member present but naturally involved because she is Damian’s girlfriend. “He fell in love with a penniless paparazzo, and now he’s trying to save her ass,” she chuckles, finding it both amusing and romantic.

“I’m not in love.”

“Yes, of course, we all believe you,” Michael jokes. “You’re proposing we make up a fake story to give her the photos she needs. And, at this point, you’ll take the pictures for her because her shoulder still hurts—but you’re telling me that you’re not in love? I hope she’s at least a great fuck.”

I expected all of this from him; what I didn’t expect is that he would accept Iris. Every day he surprises me more. When I look down and start playing with the ripped hem of my shirt, he bursts into loud laughter.

“Oh, now you don’t want to talk about sex? You’re worse off than Damian.”

“Hey, I’m not that bad,” Damian replies half-heartedly, while making sweet eyes at his girlfriend.

I glare at Michael, expecting better from him because he understands what’s going through my head right now. If I really didn’t care, I’d be making jokes right along with him, not getting pissed off at him.

“You’re really in love, aren’t you?” My non-answer is enough to make him see the truth of the situation. “For Christ’s sake, you’re worse off than I imagined,” he adds, rubbing his pained face like I’d just told him I was going back to prison. I can’t quite read what’s in the half-smile he’s wearing.

“Okay, so why do we have to come up with a plan for her to make more money? Can’t you just give it to her? You’re loaded,” Simon says pragmatically.

I throw an exasperated glance at him at the exact moment Lilly makes an equally exasperated and annoying sound. “Why the hell do you men have this thing about paying to get us out of trouble?” she asks to no one in particular. Damian’s hand rests on her arm. It’s strange to see how he’s changed so radically in just a few months. I wonder if I’m going to end up the same way, given this room full of people I’ve gathered for an utterly absurd reason.

“Maybe we’re more practical than you women who stir up drama over everything?” replies Simon honestly, and I kind of relate to him.

“I refuse to have this conversation with you too,” Lilly says, and on the one hand, I can’t blame her. We men are really knuckleheads when it comes to women: pulling these stunts we think are heroic but that probably just make us look like idiots.

Evan gets up and wanders around the desk, leaning against the edge with his arms across his chest and a serious look. He seems to be considering helping me with this crazy plan, and he’s trying to figure out how much I am sure of what I’m doing.

“And you know why she needs that money? Are you sure she’s an honest person? Does she have a drug problem?” he asks me, and Michael bursts out laughing.

“It’s not like drugs are a big deal among rock stars. It wouldn’t be the first time,” he blurts out amusedly, and I wish I was as cheerful as he is right now. He’s not helping me with Evan and, this time, I have to have our manager on my side. I can’t go off on my own like I’ve been doing lately. If something goes wrong, we’ll end up in all the newspapers looking like idiots or, worse, manipulators or even swindlers. Not to mention, Iris could get into serious trouble.

“Her mother suffers from an early form of senile dementia. She needs assistance all day, every day, and Iris has no other choice but to put her in a long-term clinic because she can’t do it alone. Those clinics cost a lot, and it’s hard to find the money,” I explain, feeling a little guilty. This is Iris’s business, I shouldn’t blab about it to all of them, but my band is like my family: what’s being said in this room will never leave here, not even under torture.

“Okay, my question is still valid: why not just give her the money?” asks Simon, increasingly puzzled.

“I tried, and she almost ripped my eyes out. Trust me, that girl scares me when she gets angry.”

“No, I give up. I don’t even want to try to understand how women think,” Simon says when it becomes clear that a month out of town was enough to shake up the quiet state he’d left us in.

“Enough with the bullshit. How do we come up with it?” asks Michael.

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