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Roman groaned. "That's all we need. Somebody pointing fingers at one of the guys for potential assault."
"Sounds like the bride who did it," Ripley said. "Seems as if the dickhead got too free with his hands. Nothing wrong with a woman sticking up for herself, right?" She looked from him to me and back again, as though daring one of us to say otherwise.
"Yeah." Roman looked back at his phone.
Ripley and I exchanged shrugs. If either of us did anything in self-defense, he would be one of the first people to stand up for us. If we needed him to.
"As long as there's no suggestion the guys did anything," I said. "Then we'd be in full damage control mode." We weren’t there with this. Yet.
"What do you need to do instead?" Ripley seemed genuinely interested. As a backing vocalist, she’d seen her share of drama, but nothing like this. Honestly, neither had I.
"I’ll talk to the guys first," I said. "I have to fly back. I'll get the full story from them and then milk it for all it's worth. According to this," I tapped my nail against my screen. "The man Axel's sister was supposed to marry was a lawyer from a prestigious family. What could be a better story than her running away with a rock star? True love. Long-awaited reunion, all that stuff." I sighed dramatically.
"Jilted groom," Roman said without looking up from his phone. "Broken heart left behind. An influential family's lifelong feud against a rock band."
"That sounds like a bad movie of the week," Ripley said. After a moment she added, "Who hurt you?"
He glanced up and smiled at her. "No one recently. Someone has to take the side of the groom. Even if he is a douchecanoe."
I snorted a laugh at the expression. Where did people come up with these things?
"That's some fuzzy logic, right there," Ripley said. "Please don't say it's some kind of bro code."
He lowered his phone slightly. "No, but if the guy's failed wedding is going to be used to generate publicity for the guys, then he deserves at least some sympathy. There are two sides to every story."
"Right," I agreed. "Until we know both, we shouldn't assume anything."
"I'm going to," Ripley said. "It's Jude were talking about. He's a good guy and deserves to be happy. Especially if he's been pining after her all these years."
She pressed a hand to her heart and fluttered her eyelashes. "It's so romantic and dreamy." Her eyes popped open wider. "Do you think they'll make a movie out of it? Can you imagine how cool that would be?"
"Yeah, they could get that Hemsworth guy to play me," Roman said.
"He looks nothing like you, but sure, why not?" Ripley said teasingly.
Roman grunted. "Have you never heard of special effects make-up? He'd need a ton of it to be as good-looking as me." He rolled his eyes to show he was joking.
"I wonder who could play me," Ripley said. Her brow crinkled in speculation, as though it was a possibility. She was nothing if not hopeful.
"I don't think they would need to cast either of us," I said. "But maybe we could play extras."
Her eyes widened. "Now that would be cool. We could be hot groupie numbers one and two."
I laughed. "Sounds accurate to me." No one with functional eyeballs would ever refer to me as hot, as far as I was concerned. My hair was dark chocolate brown, with a slight wave, but mostly kept back in a ponytail. I was average height, with a few too many freckles and hazel eyes. At best, I might be considered cute. In a geek girl kind of way.
"Maybe I should be hot groupie number three," Roman joked.
"You totally could be," Ripley told him. "The next thing you know we'll all be famous movie stars." She looked towards the ceiling, a vague, slightly glazed expression in her eyes. She was probably imagining accepting an Academy award or something.
As far as I knew, they didn't give those to extras. Well, maybe they'd make an exception for us.
Ripley lowered her face and smiled at Roman.
The vibe she gave off when she looked at him made me feel like the third wheel. As far as I knew, nothing happened between them, but would I know if it had? Their personal lives were their own business, and I was busy with my own job.
Tour publicist— It sounds fancy and sometimes it is. Usually I just have to be nice to journalists so they'll interview the guys and attend their concerts to review them. Granted, that was easier now than it used to be. Most people didn't turn down an invitation to see the Rock Dragons play, especially if it cost them nothing. Now, I had to make sure they were the right journalists. The ones with the most influence and trusted reputations. They got bonus points if they liked the band.
They were the people I should be talking to, instead of going back to Norfolk to talk to the band, but it was what it was. This could very easily get out of hand. If it did, it would be hard to rein in.
