If This Gets Out(16)

I spin around, taking it all in. We’re here to check out the stage and approve it, before our official rehearsal tomorrow afternoon before the show. That means tomorrow, I’ll be here, singing in front of twenty thousand people. I can picture it now. The crowd. The flashing lights, stretching on and on.

We’ve been told by an employee of the stadium that the screens that have been set up are cutting-edge, and the same goes for the rest of the tech involved. Our voices should be crystal clear even to people in the very back rows. Plus, unlike on our US tour, everyone in attendance will be given a bracelet that automatically changes color for each song. It’s going to go neon blue for “Repeat,” to match the music video, gold for “Unrequitedly Yours,” and then red for “Guilty.” I appreciate the attention to detail. Even with crowds this big, or maybe even especially so, their energy really impacts my performance. I just feel as if I sing better if I’m sure they’re having a good time, and every little thing that makes a show fun for them helps.

“All right, boys,” says Erin. “What do you think?”

“I love it,” says Angel. “Can we go now?”

“Almost. I just want all of you to be on your best behavior until after the show. That means no drinking, and yes, I’m looking at you, Angel.”

I wonder if she even knows how far past drinking he’s gone.

Angel puts his hand on his chest. “I’ll behave. I wouldn’t want Sherlock Holmes to arrest me.”

“That’s not what he does,” says Jon.

“You’d know, nerd.”

“Enough! I know it’s exciting that you can drink legally here, but it’s one of the worst things you can do for your voices. I beg you, please, please remember why you’re here, and be on your best behavior.”

Angel nods, but I doubt he is actually going to. I don’t even think I am. Who would?

“Another thing,” she says. “The paparazzi here are probably even worse than they are at home. So, if you have something you don’t want the entire world knowing, I encourage you to be discreet.”

Everyone goes really still as she looks at Ruben.

That sure as hell sounded like she just told him to not do anything gay while we’re here. Which is bullshit, because I know Angel already has “networking” time set up with a bunch of models in almost every city. I doubt Chorus would want everyone to know about that, and yet he’s not being dressed down.

“That all?” asks Angel. “No drinking, and no flamboyant homosexuality?”

“You’re a riot. But yes, that’s all. Thanks, boys.”

Angel turns and leaves, and Jon and Erin follow after him, chatting about something. Ruben walks forward, and then sits on the edge of the stage. I sit down beside him. This stadium really is enormous, and it’s hard to wrap my head around how big it is. I should be used to it by now, but I’m just … not.

“So, that sucked,” I say, fiddling with my leather bracelet.

“What did?”

“What Erin said.”

His shoulders slump. “Oh. Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

He nods. “Sometimes I’m tempted to come out onstage one day, if only to see the look on her face.”

He’s smiling at the thought, but it terrifies me. Geoff has made it very clear that we’re not allowed to say anything onstage, or ever, really, that hasn’t been approved by him and his team at Chorus Management. He created this band, not us, and he has all the power. His advice hasn’t steered us in the wrong direction so far, but he has made it very clear how important it is for us to control our narrative. Losing that ends careers.

Ruben stands up, grinning. The others have left the stage now, so it’s just us here, in this huge space. I can’t even see any security guards nearby.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

He brings his hands to his mouth, and shouts: “Thank you so much, London.”

His voice echoes around the empty stadium.

I stand up, and go up to him. He’s still grinning like he’s up to something, even though I have no idea what it is.

“You’ve been a great audience, our best so far, right, boys?”

I glance around. I can’t see anyone else nearby, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t someone just backstage who can hear us.

Or who might be recording.

“But hey, while I’ve got everyone here, I’ve got something I want to get off my chest. I’m sure you’ve all noticed that I’ve never had a girlfriend. Well, in fact, the thing is…”

“Shh!” I say, and I press my hand over his mouth. I did it instinctively, and now I’m right beside him, with my hand on his lips. And they’re really soft.

I’m staring him down, and he’s not flinching—actually, his dark eyes are level with mine, like he’s in total control. Like it’s not even a question that he’s in charge, even with my hand over his mouth. Like me trying to tell him what to do is simply amusing.

I drop my hand. “Sorry. But didn’t you hear what Erin just said?”

“Calm down, Zachary. I wouldn’t actually do it. I’m not stupid.”

I don’t believe him, though.

That sounded way too rehearsed.