Page 48 of Rebooting Conor Flynn

CONOR

My hotel door slammed behind me, and I leaned my back against it, closing my eyes. I wanted to put a stop to this fake relationship with Ashley. Although it seemed to be generating loads of publicity for the tour, did it actually encourage people to buy tickets or would people buy them anyway for the music?

I shrugged off the door. I made a deal to get my name alongside Ashley’s as co-headliner for this tour, and I’d have to see it through—for Noelle’s sake.

Sidestepping my suitcase, I wandered to the sliding glass door overlooking the bay. My reflection stared back at me. I couldn’t stomach myself, so I opened the door and stepped onto the balcony.

I leaned over the rail, and the salty breeze lifted the ends of my hair. The pictures from the concert last night revealed something I’d been avoiding ever since this tour started—I still had feelings for Noelle. If I couldn’t admit it to myself, those fan pictures made it clear.

Then I smacked myself in the face with the other truth, as brisk as the sudden wind that kicked up off the San Diego Bay...those feelings had never gone away. I thought I dealt with them when I wrote that song for her. The song helped me move on, but the minute I saw Noelle’s face, inhaled her sweet, fresh scent, saw those flecks of gold in her brown eyes, I fell into some sort of vortex time machine that landed me back on that first Five2Go tour bus where one night we frantically ripped each other’s clothes off as we squeezed into a single bunk. The first time I slipped inside her...

The knock on my hotel door made me jump...and lose my boner. I still took my time getting to the door. When I pressed my eye to the peephole, my boner deflated even more when I saw Ashley standing in the hallway.

I pulled open the door, blocking the entrance to my room, hoping to make this short. “Room okay? You’re not getting this one.”

“Don’t be annoying. Why would I want your room?” She stood on her tiptoes, peering over my shoulder, her hand wrapped around an iced coffee. “I’ve got a perfectly good room down the hall with an even more unobstructed view of the water than this dump.”

“What do you need?”

She placed a fist on her hip and pouted. “No, good job out there, Ashley. Thanks for maintaining the magic, Ashley. Thanks for saving my ass, Ashley.”

“Yeah, all of the above.”

She pushed past me and twirled around my room with her bare feet. “The timing worked out perfectly.”

“Yeah, about that.” I scratched my scruff. “The paparazzi seemed a little too convenient.”

She shrugged her shoulders. “They’re always convenient when there’s an album or tour to promote. Otherwise, they’re a pain in the ass. An old pro like you gets that.”

I doubted Ashley ever considered the paps an annoyance unless she was stumbling out of a club at two in the morning with her makeup smeared across her face. “Ticket sales are good, yeah?”

“They are picking up as we speak.” She placed her drink on the table and stood against the sliding door to the balcony, her hands behind her, pressed against the glass. “Did you like my performance?

“Your performance?”

“The supportive, eager girlfriend. I figured one of us had to step up, and as you were stumbling off the bus after a three-hour trip, looking...a mess,” she patted her chest “...that someone had to be me. I mean, you’ve already done your part a couple of times. It was my turn.”

“Yeah, yeah. It was brilliant, Ashley.”

Whether she called the paps or not, her actions furthered the narrative of Conley, and I couldn’t argue with that. Couldn’t fault her either. I’d always been the good guy of the band, the least troublesome. Her association with me would do a lot to polish up her image.

And my association with her got me more songs on stage and more publicity for my music.

She was right—we were both old pros.

She swept through the room and turned at the door. “I actually dropped by to let you know a bunch of us are going to the Oxford Social Club in the Gaslamp District for drinks a little later.”

“Isn’t that a nightclub?” I held up my hands. “I’m out.”

“We’re just going for drinks before the music starts. You can arrive late and leave whenever. Tomorrow’s show isn’t sold out yet—a little publicity the night before can’t hurt.” Her voice went sing-songy at the end in a clear attempt to lure me out in the wilds.

“I’ll think about it.” Maybe being out with the group, with or without Noelle there, would get my mind off her. She ghosted me when I went on tour to Australia. Why would she change her mind now? If anything, she’d run away even faster if the fame scared her off the first time.

Ashley waved and let herself out of my room.

I started unpacking when I noticed her iced coffee on the table. She still had more than half left, so I grabbed it and flung open my door to catch her in the hallway.

A door across the corridor and a few rooms down from mine slammed shut on a couple of whispered voices, and Ashley had vanished.