We joke a little about how ridiculous some of the theories about us are, but it’s not really funny. The wilder the accusations are, the more plausible others seem. If they repeat something outrageous enough times, and back it with enough institutional weight, it stops sounding insane to enough people to make a difference. So maybe nobody actually believes that Jesse drinks blood or keeps sex slaves in a basement he doesn’t have, those theories are nuts and honestly kind of funny. But next to that cuckoo drivel, the idea that we use our popularity and charisma to brainwash kids and spread hateful lies seems plausible. It seems like these senators and journalists and even the president, who is named on every other page of a well-known investigation into a pedophile trafficking ring, comes across as simply concerned for the youth of America.
I’m jarred out of my internal thoughts about all the lovely things I’d like to see happen to the current leader of the “free” world by Scott standing from the middle of the line of security detail lining the back of the room.
It seems we’ve had a mole trailing us from venue to venue, at least since the charity concert, posing as a security guard. When Scott mentions figuring it out when he saw an unfamiliar employee with a phone backstage, I freeze.
The air leaves my lungs slowly.
I saw that man. Collided with him even. Just after sneaking out of a dark corner with Will.
It didn’t even occur to me that, aside from the band, Blake, and our personal security detail, no one is allowed to have a phone backstage. It’s common practice for most artists and is a strict part of our normal contract with every venue.
I replay the moment in my head, the man’s smile, the way he turned his screen off before putting the phone in his back pocket.
My pulse is loud in my ears.
Jesse presses his palms to his eyes. Luc was there that night, and Jesse had run off stage to kiss him after the countdown.
“What’s the likelihood this guy is sitting on something that could hurt him?” Jesse asks.
He’s referring to Luc, but it’s not just him that could have given too much away that night.
Will shifts nervously. I glance over at him and catch his worried gaze.
Had he seen us?
I think about how invincible I’d felt in that moment, when Will had first tugged me into that corner and pressed me into the wall. How he’d kissed me like nothing else mattered.
We’re fucking idiots.
It’s one thing to risk ourselves like that, but we didn’t even consider that we could have been risking everyone else as well.
Or maybe there’s a chance our affair could take the pressure off Jesse and Luc?
“We’re going public after the Super Bowl,” Jesse says, voice steady despite the tense set of his shoulders. “We just need to do whatever it takes to keep this quiet until then. It’s just a couple more weeks.”
I clear my throat. “Is there anything we can do to distract the press from Jesse and Luc until after the Super Bowl?” I ask.Perhaps a spicier and more interesting love affair the public can balk at?
“I can’t think of anything more interesting, unless anyone else is having an illicit affair,” the PR rep says flatly. “That’s sarcasm, by the way. We don’t need any more scandals, please.”
Silence settles over the room like dust.
Slowly, I slide my legs off Will’s lap. The warmth of our connection disappears immediately.
I reach for a bottle of water just to have something in my hands. Naz crosses his arms, looking unimpressed with the PR rep’s sense of humor. Blake looks constipated. I wonder if he knows about all theillicitaffairs happening under his watch.
I don’t suppose Naz’s relationship would be all that bad. But ours would be a scandal. Fuel for the hellfire of purity culture that protects predators and vilifies queer people.
Jesse brushes off the uncomfortable silence. “Calm down, everyone. It’s fine. It’ll be fine. What more could happen in just a couple of weeks?”
I wish he hadn’t said that. It feels ominous.
The meeting goes on for a little while longer, logistics and legal crap, but I barely hear it. My mind keeps circling to that dark corner. The smile on the man’s face. The phone in his hand.
When everyone finally stands to file out, Will doesn’t look at me right away. But once Naz walks out to talk with Scott and the other bodyguards, and Jesse steps out to make a call, he taps my chin.
“You still sure about this?” he asks. I know he’s not asking because he isn’t fully in this, he just wants me to know that he has my back either way.
I nod. “I feel like we should. I mean, before that meeting I just wanted to. But if we’re a liability?—”
