Reckless (Thoughtless, #3)(152)
Kellan’s phone rang the entire time the car descended, but we both ignored it as we held each other. My good feelings diminished a bit when we stepped onto the chilly, gloomy New York sidewalk. The fans who had been outside before had grown in size during the interview. Their temperament was also different. The range of reactions was all over the place, from shock, to anger, to grief. But curiosity seemed to be the underlying factor. It was obvious that they’d all been listening to the interview. It was also obvious that they all still had questions.
There was also a fair amount of press in the crowd now. They hovered around, microphones ready, cameras blazing. The fact that news crews were already there reiterated to me how fast things happened in New York. I wasn’t thrilled about being broadcasted on TV, but after the interview, this didn’t faze me as much as it once would have.
Kellan and I had handed the media a story that was a little more in depth than just juicy are-they-or-aren’t-they gossip. We’d openly admitted being used by our label. That sort of scandal got noticed. The reporters tossed out questions as the assemblage pressed in on us: “Kellan, Kiera, any comment on what the label did to you?” “Will you sue?” “Will you leave the tour?” “Did you violate your contract by speaking out?”
Those were good questions, but they weren’t ones we had answers for yet.
The fans also had questions, but theirs were on a more personal level: “You’re really not with Sienna?” “That was really fake?” “The video looked so real though, are you sure you don’t have feelings for Sienna?”
Tory and the staff from the radio station were trying to keep the crowd under control so we could leave. I thought maybe we should have stayed and answered everyone’s questions, but the way they were trying to close in around us made me feel really claustrophobic and uncomfortable. There were too many, they were too close. I didn’t like it. We’d said enough for now. I just wanted to get into the car and get back to the privacy of our bus.
There was a brief space between the large clusters of fans and press hovering around the doors. Security was holding people back just enough that Matt, Evan, and Griffin were able to squeeze through, and I watched them hurry into the waiting SUV in relief. Kellan and I couldn’t press through the fans side by side, but he clenched my hand tight as he pulled me through the sea of people.
I noticed several flashes of light as we waded along and realized that not just press were in this mix. Paparazzi had shown up too, and they were by far more aggressive than the fans and reporters. While security merely had to stand in front of those groups to keep them back, paparazzi pushed to get past them. A pair of tenacious photographers found their way through the swarm to step right in front of Kellan and me. Kellan forced me back a step, and I shielded my eyes against the ceaseless bright flashes.
The people snapping our picture didn’t seem to care in the least that we were trying to get to the car. They tossed out question after question, never even pausing long enough for us to answer—not that we were going to. Miffed, Kellan tried squirming past one; the portly man wouldn’t budge, though.
Careful to not be too aggressive, since we’d just narrowly escaped an assault charge the last time we’d encountered these guys, Kellan politely said, “We’re trying to leave; please let us through.”
It was like they didn’t even hear us. They just kept snapping away. Looking up at the safety of the SUV, I saw Matt and Evan watching us in concern. They looked just about ready to start pummeling people aside to get to us. I didn’t want that. Kellan didn’t either. When I was beginning to believe there wouldn’t be another choice if we ever wanted to get out of this mob, a narrow path to the street opened up. It was far to the left of where we wanted to go, and it cut right through a pocket of excited fans, but it was our only option at this point.
Kellan saw the ray of hope at the same time I did. He pulled us to the right, faking out the paparazzi, then swung us around to the left, and we ran for the closing hole. Kellan pulled me through the break in the crowd just as it began to close back up. We were stroked and fondled by fans on the way through, but the aggressive photographers couldn’t follow us.
Now that we were through the conglomeration, we were a little stuck. The label’s SUV was a ways up the street, blocked off from us by a mass of people. The buzzing crowd was behind us, and the street was in front of us. Since the rest of the band was safely tucked away, Kellan and I were now the only point of interest. Over my shoulder, I could see them all shifting our way. Kellan stuck his hand out for a taxi, trying to get us away, but trepidation shot up my spine as everyone zoned in on us.
The reporters kept up their questions, holding large microphones our way, hoping for a response. The paparazzi were pushing through the fans, trying to get a better angle. And the fans were in a dither having their idol so close to them. They didn’t even seem to care about what we’d said about Sienna, especially the ones who Kellan had brushed past as he was trying to get us away. Those ones looked elated, and they looked like they wanted to touch him some more. I understood that feeling, but the zealous energy growing in the crowd made me nervous.
“Kellan, I don’t like this, let’s get out here.”
Kellan nodded at me. “We’ll get a cab in a second.”
Just as he said it, the fans started to realize that he was getting away and surged forward. They swarmed around us, all hands and giggling laughter. Arms circled Kellan, hands ran up his chest, pens were shoved in his face, and cell phones recorded every moment. They squeezed between us, separating us. I tried to keep a hold on Kellan’s hand, but like a stretched rubber band, we eventually broke apart.