Page 10 of The Rogues

“I have not spoken to her,” I say matter-of-factly. “I mean, she’s setting world records. There’s no chance to catch up when you’re that scarce for time.”

Again, it’s a white lie. I have no intention of speaking to her, busy or not.

“Aw, so you haven’t spoken at all?”

I give a casual shrug. “She’s a busy woman, Renee. She doesn’t have time for a slum like me.”

“You’re not a slum!” Renee giggles, playing up the friend act.

“Try telling her that,” I say out of the side of my mouth.

They both laugh like I said the funniest thing ever. If I’m honest, the statement leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, but I remind myself that this is what the label wants. They want me to continue the narrative, bait the public into believing the scorned lovers’ story, even if we’re anything but.

Luckily, they change the subject, and we get to announce the new single for our upcoming album, which was the whole point of this appearance to begin with.

When we get off the set, I can finally take a breath. Jamie walks by me, nudging his shoulder against mine and giving me a sympathetic smile.

“One day,” he whispers, holding my eyes.

I nod. “One day.”

We’re barely in our dressing room when my phone rings. Our agent’s name shines on the screen, and I let out a groan before hitting accept and pulling the phone to my ear. “What’s up, Mac?”

“Cyrus! What an interview. You lot are really getting the hang of this, huh?” he says with his heavy Long Island accent.

“Well, you know what they say. ‘Practice makes perfect’ and all that,” I respond, watching as Remi pops open a bottle of champagne from the fridge and fills the flutes for everyone just before Lennon grabs his and throws it back in one go. Malaki and Jamie are on the couch, tangled up in each other, watching something on one of their phones that’s making them giggle.

“Yeah, but I never thought I’d see the day you guys were decently media trained,” he jokes. “Although you could have kept that dig toward Vicious Velvet to yourself.”

That actually makes me crack a smile. “I’m media trained, but I’m not a miracle worker. Is there a reason you’re calling, Mac?”

“You’re right, let me cut to the chase,” he says. “Has the label told you guys yet?”

The question comes out ominous, and my heart sinks to my stomach. “Told me what?”

There’s a deep sigh, one that I’ve heard many times, so I brace myself for impact. “It’s time to pack up, kid. You boys are going on tour.”

FOUR

When Donna and her team called this emergency meeting, I knew it wouldn’t be good. But now, sitting across from her in silence, her hands firm on the table as she looks each of us in the eyes like a predator ready to pounce, my stomach twists in knots.

“Why are we here?” Lark asks, getting to the point before the tension in this room can explode. Our manager, Ruby, got here a few moments ago, her blonde hair slicked back and suit completely clean. However, her face is pinched in a nervous expression that makes me raise an eyebrow.

Donna smiles and the excitement in it is frightening. “We found your other act. We signed contracts the other day and thought it was time to let you girls in on the plan.”

“Let us in on the plan?” Cleo echoes, her dark, decked-out nails digging into the varnish of the table.

“Yes, precisely,” Donna continues without missing a beat. “This upcoming tour is going to be a big one. Sales are already going through the roof, but we’re hoping to sell out once the news hits the public later today.”

The hair on my neck stands up, something prickling under the surface at her words. Which opening act could do that for us? Unless…

“Are we—” I pause, my mouth suddenly dry. “Are we the opening act? Are we the support instead?”

Donna chuckles. “No, of course not! This is still your tour.”

“Then I’m not understanding, Donna,” Cleo grits. “Why would an opening act potentially sell out our tour?”

“Because there isn’t going to be an opening act,” she announces. “The tour is changing. You will be co-headlining with another band.”