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“Sure, dude,” I mutter.
“Jesus! There're plenty of girls who want my hands on them; she shouldn't have got so close!” says Will.
Curiously, Riley continues to stare at Will who leans close to her and stares back, noses almost touching. “You have to apologise,” she says, not flinching.
“Whoa! Fine!” Will steps away.
Riley steps backwards too. “And you both look bloody ridiculous in eyeliner!”
I rub my head. I'm keeping my mouth shut, too drunk to deal with her in this mood.
“Now, Nate?” she says, gesturing at Will.
“Ah. Right.” He loops a friendly arm across her shoulders and she flinches.
“Don't touch me!” Riley practically flings herself across the hallway to escape him.
We watch her go and I turn to Nate. “What the hell is going on with you and her? Why did you let Riley think Will is you?”
“Nothing,” he mutters. “Nothing.”
“Do me a favour, don't swap identities tonight, please. I'm confused enough.”
“Dude, you know how to tell us apart.”
“I'm not stripping your t-shirt off half way through the night to check your tattoos! We'll be all over the internet in a gay relationship by the time the evening ends.”
Nate shakes his head. “Just ask me. I'll tell you.” He inclines his head to the door. “The girls in there. They’re twins too. How awesome is that?”
I groan. “Who are they?”
“Stars of some Dutch reality TV show. More importantly, up for some fun with Ruby Riot!”
Twins on twins. Nate's eyes shine and I close mine. I know the twins too well, and what they get up to sometimes. “Lucky you, your own personal porn show. Ever think you're being set up?”
“Who cares?” He pushes open the door and heads back inside the Green Room.
31
TEGAN
My phone alert sounds again. I'm losing count now, pissed off the incessant beeping finally has woken me up and isn't a random noise in my dream. I grab the phone and focus on the screen. 9 a.m..
Can't be Jax, way too early for him after his night out in Amsterdam.
I squint at the phone. Twitter alerts.
The social media poison has receded in the last day; but if the hatred is starting again, I don’t want to see. The fans think Jax is fickle, obviously, and I'm no longer a threat. For now. What the hell happens when I go back to the tour? Nope, not looking. Bad for my health. I set the phone back down and head for the shower.
By 12 p.m., Jax hasn't called and unease sets in. So far, I've refused to go online to look at his Amsterdam escapades, because the night will be documented on there. Jax and his behaviour when he drinks plus Will plus Nate plus Amsterdam undoubtedly equals dodgy photos constructed into scandal by the gutter press. I'm not being swayed by any reports until I've spoken to him, which means I can’t look.
Another Twitter alert lights up my phone, tagging me, and the unease grows. Shit, I'll regret this, but I can't hold off checking any longer.
There's a link attached to a Tweet with hundreds of shares and I click on it. Immediately a clip of the Dutch TV show appears.
There’s footage of Ruby Riot lined up on a red leather sofa. The host is a guy, age indeterminate due to plastic surgery around his eyes and dyed hair, who enthuses about Ruby Riot's performance in English.
Ruby's on the opposite edge of the sofa, as far away from the host as possible, her eyes fixed on Jax who's fielding questions. Or attempting to. He lounges on the seat, one leg crossed over his knee, and arm draped over the low back. Jax with full-on rock star attitude. He's blinking at the audience, smiling and running a hand through his hair in the annoyingly sexy way that grabbed me the first time I saw him on stage.
