Page 96 of Rebooting Conor Flynn

Well, not good exactly, but better than people blowing up about Ashley the liar and fake. Marginally better.

I covered my perfectly made-up face and groaned. I had to get us out of this shitshow. Ashley and I had to dream up a better way to spin those pictures of me and Conor—after all, in those pics Conor and I shared a kiss. Ashley and Tomo’s photos showed them doing a lot more than kissing.

Maybe people didn’t know Conor and I had a past...working relationship. We could frame our relationship that way—two old friends reconnecting.

I rode to the show with Jermaine, who didn’t care about the PR surrounding the shows anymore. Once the ticket sales took off, he left that part to everyone else. His job was making sure all the players were in place on time and ensuring the concert went smoothly. He had a bigger worry: Ashley’s voice.

“Do you think Ashley can perform the rest of the shows? Is she going to lose her voice completely?” He rubbed his sharp chin. “That actually might be preferable to what’s happening now. Do you have anyone lined up who can replace her?”

“I think she can soldier on. Her fans do most of the heavy lifting, and if the band goes louder on the volume, maybe nobody will notice she’s whispering and talking through half the lyrics.”

“It’s more than half at this point. Conor rescued her, so I’m not sure what the booing was about.”

Jermaine had really tuned out of the online gossip. But his concerns about Ashley’s voice had given me another tool in my repertoire of PR schemes.

Leaning forward, Jermaine gave our driver instructions for our drop-off. When we clambered out of the car, he went his way, and I went mine.

I preferred his. I had to have a talk with Ashley before she went on stage tonight. I didn’t want to ruin her vibe, but we could not have a repeat of last night’s antics. Conor didn’t deserve to get booed.

I dragged a chair to the right wing of the stage to stake out my command post. For most stage setups, this position allowed me to watch the performers, clock who was coming onto the stage, and keep an eye on security—in case we needed them.

As I dropped my bag, my phone buzzed. My muscles tensed when I saw an unknown number. I couldn’t take any more anonymous tipsters, but at least I could talk to this one.

I planted my cowboy boots on the stage and answered. “Yes?”

The slight pause made my pulse tick faster.

“Noelle? It’s Jay.”

I dropped onto my chair in relief. “Hi, Jay. Sorry about that. Your number came across as unknown.”

“No problem, luv. Bad time?”

“Never a bad time for you...especially when you’re returning my call, or at least my Instagram DM. How’d you get my number?”

“IP gave it to me.”

“You talked to Ian?”

“He called me about a reunion tour. I reckoned that’s what your DM was about, too.”

“What did you tell Ian?” I chose my words carefully. Jay was like a feral creature—one wrong move and you could send him bounding back into the woods...or back to his farm.

“Told him I’d think about it, but I wanted to check with you first.”

“You did?” My voice squeaked.

“It started with you, luv. Wouldn’t seem right if it didn’t end with you.”

“Is that your condition?”

“One of them. Haven’t decided yet. You’re doing good with Conor’s tour, yeah?”

I knew Jay didn’t follow social media or the gossip accounts. If he did, he’d know that in no universe was I doing good with this tour.

“It’s selling out.”

“You know that’s not what it’s all about, Noelle. That’s why I want you on our side if we do a reunion.”