Page 52 of Rebooting Conor Flynn

Was I though? I kept getting into cozy situations with Conor. If I were a real professional dedicated to my job, I’d cut him out of my life. Just like he did to me.

Sent me texts every day. Bullshit.

Who did he think I was? One of his adoring fans who believed all the good guy hype about him?

But I couldn’t cut him out. I had to ride a freakin’ bus with him. Stay in hotel rooms down the hall. Watch him on stage. Make sure he had what he needed to perform. Keep his spirits up. Laugh at his jokes. Massage his shoulders after the show.

I covered my face with my hands. How’d I get here?

“You’re not crying, are ya? It’ll be okay. I’ll talk to Ashley myself and ask her what the hell she’s up to.”

“I’m not crying.” Looking up, I peered at him through my fingers.

“It could’ve been worse.” He winked. “I mean, it’s not like we were kissing.”

“Not that we would.” I dropped my hands and folded them in my lap. This night just kept getting worse and worse.

When the driver pulled up in front of the hotel, I pressed my nose to the window to make sure no photographers were lurking in the bushes, ready to jump out at us.

We slipped out of the car, heads down, but nobody accosted us. A minute later, we stood in front of the elevator.

As I jabbed the button, I said, “I’m going to bed. Are you going to confront Ashley tonight?”

“I might. You wanna do it together?”

“Absolutely not.” I stepped into the car when the doors slid open. “I’m not even sure she did set us up. Why would she? I don’t want to provoke her.”

“Chicken.”

He nudged me, and I pressed the button to my floor several more times—as if that would make the elevator go faster.

The doors opened on my floor, one level beneath his, and I glanced over my shoulder. “Let me know what she says. Good night, Conor.”

As I fumbled with my card key, Shanice slipped out of her room, ice bucket in hand.

She said, “Hey, you. Early night?”

I didn’t want to poke the bear that was Ashley, but her stylist wouldn’t bite my head off. “Yeah, turns out nobody showed up...except Conor. You did tell me everyone was meeting at the Oxford Social Club from about nine to eleven, right? I got there at ten, and nobody was there. Conor arrived about fifteen minutes later, but that was it.”

She tilted her head. “That’s weird. That’s what everyone told me, even though I had already decided I wasn’t going.”

“Everyone?” I raised my eyebrows. “Or Ashley?”

“Actually, it was Tomo.” She hugged the ice bucket to her chest.

“Oh, your ex. Are you talking?”

She laughed. “We’re not enemies. I saw him in the restaurant downstairs picking up food. He mentioned it to me then.”

“Maybe everyone had the same idea as you to stay in, or we were too late. Maybe we were too early.” My door beeped and gave me the green light. “Anyway, it was a bust. See you tomorrow.”

I walked into the room, kicked off my shoes, and flopped across the bed. It wasn’t a bust for those paps. And dread for the fallout settled on my chest like one of those weighted blankets—except it didn’t provide any comfort.

Not at all.

***

The next morning, I practically plowed into Ashley in line at the coffee shop in the lobby. Talk about meeting your problems head-on.