If This Gets Out(67)

“What was so funny?” Erin asks without looking at me.

For a split second, she’s Mom, and I’m several years younger, trapped in the car beside her while she gears up to scream at me about my behavior that day. But she’s not Mom, and I don’t need to panic, because this is business, and we’re all professionals, and it’s just professional feedback.

But then, why is my stomach rolling, and why have my fingertips gone cold? Why are my eyes darting around to pinpoint an escape route, just in case? “Nothing,” I say. My voice comes out uncertain.

“You know,” she says. “I get that everything feels very exciting right now. I remember what it’s like to be in your first real relationship. But you two are going to have to work on remaining professional.”

Something very much like fear stabs behind my heart. “Oh. I thought we were.”

“You thought giggling like schoolkids throughout three and a half songs, onstage, during a concert people paid good money to attend, was professional?” Erin asks, finally looking at me. She’s not smiling. “I know you better than that, Ruben. That’s not you.”

I feel like dying. Finding a small, quiet hole somewhere and crawling into it and curling into a ball to wait out the day, or maybe even the week. She’s right. Mom would kill me if she found out I did that. I should’ve cleared my mind better. We’re not up there for fun. We’re up there to put on a show.

How could I let myself forget that?

Zach’s arm brushes against mine again, more firmly this time. “We were singing fine, though,” he says. “It’s not like we messed up.”

I catch his eye and shake my head. The last thing I want right now is to make this worse. I just want Erin to drop it, so we can forget about it, and I can do better next time, and prove I am professional. That I don’t make stupid, silly mistakes, like a kid playing around in drama class.

Erin turns on him sharply. “You don’t become the best by putting in the bare minimum,” she says. “You’re not earning what you’re earning to tick the boxes. Those people in that audience? They worship you. For a lot of them, this is the only time in their life they ever get to see you. Some of them have been waiting years. Don’t disrespect them by getting up there and going through the motions, or slacking off because you have a new distraction. If it happens again, we’ll need to put you on different ends of the stage for the rest of the tour.”

Wait, she’s threatening to separate us like kindergarteners who can’t pay attention if their friend is too close to them? Maybe we did screw up today, but I hardly think we deserve the patronizing way she’s talking to us. My shame mixes with indignant anger, but anxiety intervenes long before I form a response. Just smile. Nod. Apologize. Don’t give her a reason to punish you.

So I bite my tongue and give a curt nod. “Sorry. It won’t happen again. Don’t worry.”

Erin brightens dramatically. “Good. That’s all I wanted to hear.”

Just behind us, Valeria speaks up. “Zach, can I grab you for a sec?”

I watch as he hangs back, eyebrows drawn together with concern, so they can talk. She slows them down so they’re trailing several feet behind the rest of us, so I can’t hear a word. But I already know from the look on his face I don’t like what’s being said.

When he finally pulls away from Valeria and rejoins us, we’ve started stripping in the dressing rooms. I raise a questioning eyebrow at him, but he gives me a forced smile and shakes his head as he takes off his jacket to hand to Viktor. Later.



* * *



Later doesn’t end up being until we’re back at the hotel.

Zach spends the rest of the night pulled into himself, quiet and distant. Even on the bus he sits next to me in silence. It’s obviously nothing like the last time he went quiet on me, though, because when I stroke his arm with my thumb, he leans his body so hard against mine he squashes me into the window. He clearly needs something from me, but doesn’t want to say what that might be in front of everyone else.

So, as soon as we get out of the elevator and the guards from Chase Protective Services take their stations around our doors, I give him a faux-enthusiastic grin. “Wanna come over for a movie or something?” I ask. He nods eagerly, with a look of relief.

“Oh. Are we not invited?” Angel asks in a funny voice.

Jon sighs. “Angel.”

“I’m just saying, you and I are stuck sitting alone in our rooms because we can’t have anyone visit, and no one’s asking Zach and Ruben to stop their visits. And you like being alone. So, essentially, I’m the only one who has to change my behavior.”

Zach’s face is falling further by the second, and I officially run out of patience. “No one’s stopping you from hanging out with Jon if you’re lonely,” I say, “and no one’s stopping you from inviting us over to chill without a party going on. But don’t take it out on us because you got yourself banned from having visitors, Angel. We tried to stop you.”

“They wouldn’t have known about it at all if you three didn’t chase us down and make a scene,” Angel says coldly.

“You don’t know that,” Jon says, looking between us, his eyebrows rising in alarm. “It probably wouldn’t have been good either way. And it’s done.”