Page 74 of Rebooting Conor Flynn

“If she is, and she’s actively promoting the notion that you’re a lying cheat, we’ve got a problem.”

I tried to take Noelle’s hand as we walked back to the hotel, but she slipped away from me.

I said, “The only mystery I care about right now is who split us up. And when I find out...there’s gonna be hell to pay.”

***

The heat of the day seeped into the trailer backstage despite the whirring fans. As we walked backed to the hotel earlier today, Noelle insisted that we stagger our arrival, which was daft as people saw us leave the pool together for the bus. I guess she didn’t want people to realize how long we’d been gone—not that I thought anyone cared.

The fans, the gossip sites, 92 West, Ashley and Ashley’s manager cared—okay maybe that was a lot of people—but I didn’t care. If people wanted to believe I was cheating on Ashley with Noelle, it didn’t matter to me. I couldn’t believe anyone thought that relationship was real anyway.

Fans loved to ship their favorite celebrities for some reason. It made them feel a part of that celebrity’s life. But the only part of my life I allowed them to enter was the one on stage. I gave them everything when I performed—every part of me. That’s why I needed to maintain a private life for myself.

I never would’ve agreed to fake dating Ashley if it hadn’t been Noelle asking. That was the irony—the woman I really loved asking me to fake a romantic pairing with someone I didn’t love. But I’d do anything for Noelle, always would. Except I didn’t try harder to contact her all those years ago.

At the time Australia seemed light years away from England, and I didn’t want to cause trouble on our first massive tour. Baker Street had a tight hold on us. Most of the time management didn’t even allow us to leave our hotel rooms.

I’m sure Baker Street had loads of control over Noelle too, just like her father did—or tried to. He’d thrown every opportunity her way to get her to give up her PR job, but I knew she took her job as seriously then as she did now.

Success ran through her family like a birthright. Her mother, before she passed away, was a physician, her father consulted with presidents and PM’s, and Noelle’s twin sister had gone into medicine like their mother, which Noelle’s father had plotted out for her.

She always wanted to prove herself to her father, prove that she could be a success in her chosen field without his control. She was a great pianist and singer but didn’t have the personality to perform. She still wanted to be involved in the music industry, and I knew people in the business respected her. This promotion meant the world to her.

So, it meant the world to me, too.

Someone banged on the trailer door. “Five minutes, Con.”

I didn’t know if my thoughts about the past and Noelle had prepped me for a good show or fucked me. I reckon I’d find out.

I downed some water and left the trailer. On my way to the stage, I ran into Ji-yoon.

“Good show, yeah?”

“Great crowd for sure. Have a good one.”

Ji-yoon had been mostly immune from the backstage drama as her management had her on a whirlwind of promo and engagement during this tour, separate from our own. She reminded me of myself at the start of Five2’s breakup—looking for an identity past her K-pop group, a manager still trying to control every aspect of her life, not quite sure about her musical direction, looking for validation.

It messed with your mind. I couldn’t help thinking how much better I would’ve managed it all if Noelle had been by my side, but maybe that was an excuse.

I spotted her with her clipboard darting between the stagehands and security and the backup dancers, who had a break during my set. Seeing her in her element strengthened my resolve to do whatever it took to make this a success for her. She deserved it.

The announcer blasted my name from the speakers, and I jogged onto the stage to the screaming crowd.

***

Forty-five minutes later, I finished my encore—a Five2Go song—and exited the stage with my guitar raised above me head and sweat soaking my body.

A crew member handed me a bottle of water, and I chugged it as I dodged a swarm of people setting up for Ashley.

I snuck backstage to take in the AC—a definite must here in Phoenix. Breathing deeply, I closed my eyes. I always needed a minute or two to decompress immediately following a show. So many tricks I learned on my own after I left the group, coping mechanisms that Baker Street should’ve provided to us as young, green lads. We all developed our own coping methods in the band—none of them good.

Someone touched my arm, and my eyes flew open to see the best coping method of all.

Noelle smiled that smile. “That was a fantastic set, Conor. Your solo stuff is perfection.”

“You’ve been avoiding me since our tour bus...rendezvous.”

“Sounds like the title of a song—Tour Bus Rendezvous.”