Moment(s)

  ###

  “Emilie and Julian, there you are.” Phillip Suggs, associate producer, points to the chairs opposite him at the hotel’s conference room table. “Sit in, sit in. There’s a few things that need to be discussed.”

  Things to discuss, means he has new orders for us on how to act, dress, where to go…there’s always something when it comes to Phillip. A nasty streak of pish he is. Lauren has him hand down the orders so we don’t get fussed at her and bolt. What she doesn’t know is the lads and I have talked about that and decided we’d sign a two-year contract when this one was up. Lauren Holt’s success-rate is massive and we’re not gonna screw up a good thing, are we?

  I grab the stress-ball from the hotel’s conference room table. Emilie wanted to take care of this meeting, so I’m working hard to keep my mouth shut.

  “Emilie, you going to London tomorrow is going to really put you two ‘together’ in the media’s eyes.” Phillip’s thick, gold ring glints when he makes air quotes. “Do you want to go ahead and go public or continue to deny?”

  Squeeze the stressball. Squeeze.

  Emilie’s blue eyes widen. “Continue? We haven’t denied anything. We just—”

  “I recommend going public,” Phillip says and scratches his crooked nose. “It’ll quell the homosexual rumors.”

  “For fuck’s sake, Phillip. Nothing’s going to make those go away,” I say and feel Emilie’s eyes on me. Oh, hell. He just gets under my skin, this one. “You said yourself that it just comes with the territory.” I’ve never actually known what that means except that it dismisses everything.

  “Yeah, but you haven’t been photographed with any girls for a year…I mean love interests.”

  I roll my eyes then have to smile when I catch Emilie’s smirk. Aye, she knows she had me tied in knots for a year. Quality. I am a flipping celebrity yet Emilie knows she runs my show. It’s pure dead brilliant.

  “Nice,” I say, keeping my eyes on Emilie’s face. “You all right going public, are you?”

  “Fine by me.”

  Our true fans are excellent about Emilie. And the ones who weren’t so keen have come around. I’m only worried about the psycho ones who’ll give her more grief online.

  He holds his hand up and eyes his fingernails. “To be quite honest, that rumor is the only reason Lauren continues to allow Emilie to travel with you.”

  They act as if they manufactured her straight from the sky specifically for their own purpose. I pure hate Lauren sometimes. She’ll turn the nicest things into a strategy, won’t she? Not this time.

  “She just wishes Emilie was eighteen,” he says and gives me a pointed look. He clears his throat and taps his ring on the table. “So you’ll go public. I’ll do it quietly—a call to a few key publications will do the trick.” He rearranges some papers in his leather folder.

  How come this has to be a big deal? Posting a short viddy on Keek or a simple tweet: We are officially a couple would do the trick. Or that’d give people a place to start the hate. Och!

  “Now, in public there are some things you need to be aware of,” he says and raises his eyebrows over his beady eyes. “You could be lovey dovey together—get pictured that way. But if you guys have a little tiff, it’ll be obvious. People will study your body language. Every. Little. Thing. Or you can calmly walk side by side when out in public. That way there will be nothing to talk about, nothing different if there’s a little argument between you.”

  Emilie looks at me and shakes her head. “I think we—”

  He jumps in again. “That’s nothing you have to tell me, sweetheart. Deciding amongst yourselves is fine.”

  “Ha! Deciding amongst ourselves. That’s a first,” I say. Emilie rubs my hand.

  Squeeze the stress ball.

  This morning he pulled me aside to remind me of THE RULE: no sex with anyone under eighteen. Sure, we have rules, but this one is law. Of course every state is different—some of them okaying it as long as the age difference is less than two years—but our law is no one under eighteen since we’re in different states all the time.

  Emilie’s parents…law enforcement…they could all get management in a severe bind. It’s the other reason we lost our fifth member. The only way he could avoid charges was to go into rehab, which he needed anyway. That girl’s parents did nothing to separate the couple before all that, but the day he turned eighteen they got a lawyer and sued.

  Phillip turns to Emilie. “I like you. You’re very talented, and I think you’ll be a good thing for Julian. Just help us keep him focused, okay?”

  The stress ball makes a light thump on the floor when I drop it; Emilie squeezes my hand.

  “Sure thing.” She flicks her hair behind her shoulder and stands. “It was good to see you again, Phillip.”

  No it isn’t. We’ve seen him practically every other hour since Thanksgiving—every time offering “advice.”

  Yesterday it was a reminder about staying mindful of security, and Emilie not putting herself at risk because “it’s obvious how much you care about her, Julian.” Evidently, someone is going to kidnap her and demand a ransom. Gotta protect their money, don’t we?

  And the day before that, Phillip had to tell Emilie to hold her affection from the other lads while in public. She hugged Parker after he had found a specific kind of strawberry at the farmer’s market. She’s a terrible girl for giving hugs, isn’t she? Gah!

  “Good to see you too,” he says. “I won’t catch the show tonight, but I’ll see you at the wrap party.”

  She tugs me out the door and shuts it behind us.

  “I hate him,” I say.

  “You don’t know much about diplomacy, do you?” She stands on her tip toes and pulls my head down to her. Her lips press against mine, and she pulls back. “I’ll hold your hand in public and hug and kiss. Whatever. Julian, you just need to agree to their faces and do whatever the hell you want later…within reason.”

  “How did you get to be so fearless?”

  “I’m not.” She smiles, but it’s gone as quickly as it appears. Her eyes widen before she shutters them from my scrutinizing.

  I stop our walk through the passageway and lean against the wall pulling her with me. “What are you scared of?” I whisper.

  She shakes her head and my stomach drops. So whispering doesn’t work so much anymore. Gah, this girl is killing me.

  Chapter 12

  “Parker, I want to swing with you,” someone from the crowd screams.

  “Lovin’ this Las Vegas crowd,” Parker shouts into the mic.

  I kick off the floor to set my swing moving. We were lowered to the stage with them after our gymnastics show (and a quick shower), and now they’ve come down again for our Q&A break.

  “All right, here’s another Keets question,” I say and crane my head around to see the screen. “Luke, what happened to your ukulele? That’s from jaggergirlover_212.”

  I’d been insistent on using this query. It’s about time Luke brings that old thing out again.

  It’s right behind him. He slows his swing and scoops up the instrument. The crowd is wild as he plays a tune and does a ridiculous dance.

  “And that’s the last of the questions,” Kasen says when Luke plays the last note. “Thank you so much for sending them in.”

  “Yes, massive thank you,” Parker says, and we all hop off the swings just before they start rising again. “Here’s a song you might recognize.”

  Kasen turns from a bit of silent communication with security. He gives me the thumbs up—there’s enough room for the crowd to jump.

  “Are you ready to dance, Las Vegas?” I shout. The crowd erupts.

  I don’t even have to finish my instructions. The majority have already stuck one arm in the air, and I do the same. “Aye, you know what to do.”

  The crowd screams and chants, “Pow. Pow. Pow.”

  “And you know the song, so you better do more than jump.” I pace the front of the stage, keeping my arm u
p. “Help! Us! Sing it!”

  Screeching from Luke’s guitar signals the start of our most energetic track.

  The urge is strong to glance over to stage left. Emilie’s been cleared to watch from the tuck-away area again. But the audience would notice if I looked. And I’m here for the fans right now, not Emilie. Ha! As far as my fans are concerned, I’m their boyfriend.

  It’s no matter. At least I don’t have to search the crowd for her like I did those twelve months. I know where my wish girl is now and have no problem giving my full attention to the girlfriends here.

  Four songs later, we run off the stage. But the security team isn’t waiting for us at the bottom of the ramp—just Tomo standing with Emilie. She’s in head-to-toe black, standard for trying to stay obscure at performances. This doesn’t work for her; it only highlights her pale skin and warm blue eyes.

  Tomo points behind me. Four glossy black swings catch the light as they’re lowered again. Bugger. We were supposed to be taken away with the swings, weren’t we?

  But security is there quickly enough, and we’re ushered away.

  “Wrap party!” Parker shouts at the top of his lungs once in the dressing room passageway.

  Luke slings an arm around my shoulder. “Yeah!”

  On my other side, Emilie pulls from me and takes my hand.

  “Come back here,” I say. “Luke can share, you know.”

  Luke moves his arm away and gets ahead of us a bit. “Hey, yeah. So, Emilie, you know I’m never serious when I talk about…you know, when I flirt?”

  “Huh? Luke, you’ve never flirted with me.” She furrows her brow. “I was just—Julian is sweaty.”

  Kasen sounds like a sick dog ahead of us with his laughing.

  Luke goes to the other side and takes her hand while I fight off the laughs. She seriously has no idea what he’s getting at.

  “Mate, she doesn’t know,” I say, and he crosses his eyes at her.

  Parker turns to us with a smile and stops. We all do…until security pushes us from behind.

  “Is she serious?” Parker’s hair flops to the wrong side while he stumbles along.

  Her eyes narrow to slits. “What?”

  I put my mouth to her ear. “Luke is gay.”

  “Really?” She hurries along when we get another prod from behind. “Whoa…I am so clueless.”

  I ruffle her dark hair. “Nah, you’re all right.”

  “I wonder what else—”

  “We leave in twenty minutes,” Gregory calls out as we reach the dressing room. “No interviews, photos, autographs, no backstage passes tonight.”

  “Wrap party!” the lads shout.

  I eye her parted lips, the line on her forehead. “You wonder what?”

  “I’ll tell you later.” Emilie looks at the blank white wall and mumbles, “Or maybe never.”

  ###

  “Now?” I ask and pretend to care about the decorations at our wrap party.

  “I said I’d tell you later,” Emilie whispers.

  I nod when somebody I’m positive I am supposed to know walks by. “That’s not all you said, is it? And it is later.”

  “Oh, my,” Lauren croons as she comes to a stop in front of us. “I suppose this is Emilie.”

  I straighten up. “Emilie Gold…our producer, Lauren Holt.”

  Emilie takes Lauren’s hand then jerks away when something explodes behind us. I spin around and clock bits of glitter spewing from a confetti cannon. The party is in our hotel’s ballroom, transformed to look like a rave. Magic.

  Emilie grips my arm.

  “All right there, Emilie? It’s just confetti.”

  Lauren throws her head back and laughs. “Doug,” she says and rolls her eyes. “Always so precautious. He’s got this poor girl a bundle of nerves.”

  “Doug’s knackered-out with the flu,” I say and eye Lauren’s blank face. She ought to know since she’s supposedly the one who gave orders for him to stay away from us.

  Emilie lifts her chin. “There was a bomb threat at the arena right before we left.”

  Aye, I guess with so much going on Lauren forgot.

  “Just another day in the life of Jagged Black,” I shout over the music and squeeze the hand that just subtly slid into mine. “Lauren, it’s odd to play our own music, isn’t it?”

  She shrugs her shoulder that’s got some gold swirly sort of things drawn onto it. “Who better to play?” She stands back and looks me and Emilie up and down.

  I’m wearing a simple blue jacket over a white button-up and brown low-slung trousers. Emilie has on a short dress made of some kind of shiny blue stuff. It pure shows up her eyes, along with so many other things. Her legs are just…magic.

  “You make a good couple.” With that Lauren saunters away, the gold material from her dress slithering behind.

  “Aww.” Parker comes up and loops an arm around Emilie’s waist. “It’s too bad I missed the evil one. Come dance with me since this oaf is a lay-about.”

  Emilie braces on him and stands on one foot, rotating her lifted ankle. “I’m the lay-about…I think. Whatever. It’s these shoes. I don’t mind heels but these are at least one size too small. Remind me never to trust your stylist again, Jules.”

  Parker’s eyes lock on Emilie’s chest as she leans over. I skelp his arm.

  “What?” He shoots daggers at me then pulls a red-faced grin.

  Go ahead and act all innocent, won’t ya? I turn back to her and try to shield her from the horndog’s bulging eyes. “I told you to write the size down.”

  “I forgot.” She drops her foot back down and grins up at me. “Lauren’s not so bad. She called us a good couple.”

  “You should have met our first manager.” Parker rubs his arm where I hit him. “He was totally delusional.”

  “But Lauren has always been your producer?” Emilie asks and Parker nods.

  That guy wanted Luke to punk up a bit—get his eyebrow pierced and stuff. And Luke flips out around needles.

  Plus, his mum would have killed him, and Luke is a proper—

  “You see that, Julian?” Parker shouts and points.

  Tomo and Gregs are shouldering their way through the crowd and headed for us.

  “Truly?” I slide my mobile out and give it a glance. “We’re barely two hours in. What’s crawled up their erse already?”

  Gregory reaches us first. He leans in. “Where’s Luke and Kasen?”

  “I saw Luke go by earlier,” Emilie says.

  Parker nods. “Looked like he was headed to the loo.”

  Tom puts his hand on my back. “You all go too.”

  “All of us?” Emilie asks. “To the men’s?”

  Gregory’s jowls vibrate as he gives a curt nod. “Go, Tom. I got the rear.”

  Luke’s hands are still in the sink when we walk in. He leaves the faucet running and turns to us. “What the hell?”

  “Ask them.” I aim my thumb over my shoulder.

  Luke’s already wide eyes widen even further. “Who?”

  My neck spasms when I twist around. The minders have already disappeared.

  “Turn the bolt lock,” Tom says from the other side of the door. “Lock it now.”

  Parker growls and turns the lock. “What the lime is wrong with everybody? What’s wrong with a short explanation?”

  Emilie. Claustrophobic Emilie.

  “It’s not that small.” I look down at her and rub her bare neck. Her shiny brown hair is pulled up in a ponytail, leaving her neck and shoulders—mind yourself, you wanker.

  She shakes her head and attempts a smile. “No. Not too bad.”

  Actually, I’ve no idea. I glance around. Standard. A four-stall jazzed up toilet. The floor is blue-tiled, the walls painted purple, the dividers a polished wood. “At least it’s clean.”

  Luke’s mouth is still hanging open. “Why would they lock us in here for a bomb threat?”

  “It’s not a bomb threat, you prat.” Parker walks over and turns the wat
er off.

  “Then what—”

  Parker growls. “Does it look like we know?”

  “Guys, stop bumping your gums,” I say and follow Emilie as she backs into the wall. “Emilie?”

  “Seriously, I’m fine. Look.” She points to the tiny window on the other side of the room. Blue lights are flashing through. Rotating. Those aren’t rave lights.

  And one of us is missing.

  Luke roars a few swearwords. “Where’s Kasen?”

  “That’s just what I was thinking.” I slide my mobile from my pocket and look up his number. “I’m sure he’s good, but how come they didn’t get him? Where—”

  Of course his voicemail picks up. He rarely answers. All right, text it is.

  Jules: Call me now!

  Luke boosts Parker to the window. “A little bit higher,” Parker says.

  The tendons in my neck feel like they’re going to snap from the sound the window makes.

  Luke swivels his eyes toward me, keeping his arms tight about his brother’s knees. “No answer?”

  “Uh-uh. I texted—” Sirens blare through our small hide-out, startling Luke to where he almost drops Parker.

  “No, wait.” Parker grips the windowsill. “I see something.”

  Emilie steps forward, her fingers threaded together at her lips. “What?”

  “It’s an ambulance.” Tires screech. “And there’s a black van. Wait, something’s on the side. Las Vegas…What does HU mean? Bugger me! Five or six blokes holding guns just busted out.”

  “You should probably shut the window,” Emilie says so softly that the lads don’t hear. Or they’re dingying her.

  Luke lowers Parker and says, “I want to see. Give me a boost.”

  “Shut the window,” Emilie says, her voice high and strained. My stomach turns to stone. The lads turn their heads slowly, and she says, “Homicide Unit. It means someone’s been killed and that squad is here to catch whoever did it.”

  Luke’s eyes widen, and he threads his fingers together in front of the window again. “Come on.”

  Parker scrambles for the window. The lock squeals shut.