“What’s up?” Alexander says, putting the phone on speaker and resting it on his chest. Paul’s name appears on the screen.
“Connie’s on the call too,” Paul shares.
“Right, what’s going on?” Alexander’s leg starts to twitch again under the duvet.
“Well, the police are dealing with Rita. They have her in custody and have gathered all the witness statements, but it seems to be blowing up all over social media,” Connie says.
“I’ve seen.” Alexander shakes his head at me.
“It’s going to be all over the news by morning. I’ve been fielding calls from journalists nonstop for the last hour.” Connie sounds unamused.
Is this what his life is like?
Is this what I’m signing up for?
“I’ve spoken with Rita’s publicist, and they’re going to have her admitted to rehab. Get her professional help. Apparently, her husband filed for divorce after the images in the press Sunday, and she’s been AWOL ever since.”
“Thanks for letting me know. What am I meant to do with that?” Alexander’s leg now looks more like an Irish dancer’s. I reach down to calm it, and start rubbing gently to try and soothe him.
“Well, the media are going to run with the story whether we like it or not. They’re insinuating you’ve been having an affair. There’s even speculation that your new song is about her.”
“Right.” Alexander pushes himself upright against the headboard. The phone drops into his lap as his shoulders stiffen.
“We want to be respectful to Rita and her family, allow them to lead on this, especially given the sensitivity of the matter. But the speculation is actually helping to drive interest in the new live album and especially inStolen Moments. Nathan forwarded the latest Spotify presaves for the album, and you’ve nearly broken Taylor Swift’s record.” There’s an awkward pause as Connie clears her throat. “We think we should let the speculation play out and have you lie low in the hotel until then.”
The hesitation in Connie’s voice is clear.
Alexander had mentioned wanting to get out and do something normal on his day off, and since I’m not required for any family obligations until Friday evening and work is now parked till Monday, I’d planned to surprise him and go to the skateboard park in Alexandra Palace. His mom had said it was a great idea.
But I can feel that plan slipping through my fingers, quicker than grains of sand.
“But I’ve made plans.” Alexander folds his arms across his chest and lets out a deep exhale.
“It’s already like a circus outside, Alex. The paparazzi areswarming the building like vultures, and this situation will probably have thousands of fans descending on the hotel come morning,” Paul chimes in.
Alexander’s shoulders drop as he lets out another deep exhale.
This must be what his life is like all the time.
Held prisoner in his own room. Not free to live a normal life. Like a caged animal in a zoo. Let out to perform for everyone watching before being locked away again, only for the cycle to repeat the next day and the day after that.
“Fine,” Alexander says, hanging up the phone and chucking it on the bedside table.
“Looks like we’re stuck here,” he says. His face is downcast as he turns back to me.
Part of me knows we could make the most of the situation, but I know how much he was looking forward to getting out and about for the day. To see the city rather than going, as he put it,fromhotel, to studio, to venue, repeat.
My gaze drifts across the room to the walk-in wardrobe as I reach for the noise cancellation earbuds. Then it dawns on me.
“Fuck that. I’ve got an idea.”
“Really?” Alexander’s face lights up.
“It might be crazy,” I say, looking at the suitcases before turning back to him. “But let me sleep on it, and then we can discuss it in the morning.”
My idea might be high risk, but then, if you don’t take a risk, you don’t get the reward.
Thursday
