Page 36 of Rebooting Conor Flynn

I snapped my head forward, my gaze darting around the stage. If Ashley saw this little exchange, her sound check would blow out the speakers.

“Thanks, Conor.” I grabbed the wine and took a gulp. “But you shouldn’t be seen out here.”

Especially with me. Especially by Ashley.

“Go back to the trailer and relax through Ji-yoon’s set.”

“I will do that, boss lady. Enjoy the show and the wine.”

I raised the glass to him. “Thanks, and good luck.”

When he disappeared in the back, I took another swig of wine—not a bad idea, after all—and settled in to watch the show.

Ji-yoon’s set was flawless. Her vocals, which sometimes receded in her K-Pop group just like Conor’s had with his group, soared through the amphitheater, her low notes surprisingly gruff and edgy. The crowd ate it up.

I loved this unproblematic queen even more. Ashley could learn a lot from this newbie.

When the stage went dark, the crowd rustled, and a few women screamed—getting their vocal chords ready for Conor. Some genius had chosen Ian Pope’s latest hit for bumper music, and I clasped my hands together hoping the entire interlude wasn’t going to be Five2Go songs or solos.

I whistled under my breath when Jay’s first hit came on next.

The fans loved it. Wasn’t that the point? Give the fans what they wanted and make money. Wasn’t that what all the boys wanted when they joined Five2Go? Fame. Fortune. Bitches. They never admitted that publicly—too schooled for that—but they joked about it privately in that bus, and I heard it all.

But they grew up and figured out that other aspects of their lives mattered more. They all had struggles...Conor too. He hadn’t talked to me about it yet, but I read in interviews that he had trouble leaving his house when the group split up.

I read it and cried. For all of them.

The bumper music stopped and the screaming grew in intensity. The band played the opening chords of Conor’s biggest solo hit and as he jogged onto the stage, Conor brushed my arm with his fingertips.

For the next forty-five minutes, I put the past behind me and vibed to Conor’s music. His voice had matured, and his stage presence had leveled up. Yeah, he did get the most intense crowd response when he sang the Five2Go song, but the overall degree of excitement for his performance never waned.

His set ended, and he bounded off the stage, but the crowd wanted more. They chanted, “Co-nor, Co-nor, Co-nor.”

Wiping the sweat from his forehead he gave me the type of smile that could light up and power New York City without a grid.

My lips curved up. “I think they liked it.”

“Did you? Did you like it, Noelle?”

“Perfection.” I blew a chef’s kiss. “Go, give them another song.”

He walked back on stage, adjusting his guitar strap over his shoulder. The band gave him the floor, and Conor started strumming familiar chords, but I couldn’t place the song. Not one of his singles. Maybe something from the first album.

When he started singing, goosebumps pebbled my arms. I knew this song—"No Contact.” As he continued, the words insinuated themselves into my brain, and my heart slammed against my chest.

His words on the bus the other day flashed in front of me. Noelle Martine’s burning ambition.

That’s what this song was all about—a girl who went no contact with her lover because of her burning ambition. Conor turned slightly and sang those words right into my heart.

Holy shit. This song was about me.

Chapter 10

NOELLE

A few of the band members turned their heads to follow Conor’s gaze. My brain screamed:

Run off the stage.