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.
* * *
Our bus pulls to a stop in front of the Corinthia hotel, and we all follow Erin out of the light drizzle into a beautiful golden lobby. Erin goes up to the desk and the rest of us hang back. A table in the middle of the room holds several glass vases. I absentmindedly touch the closest one, running my fingertips across the petals.
I’m trying to figure out what Ruben means by what he said. He’s clearly thought about coming out onstage, and he knows exactly what he’d say if he were to do it. In the past, Ruben has said he’s okay staying closeted in public, as he was waiting for the right time. But there was something sort of annoyed in his voice earlier, like he wants to, but can’t.
Ruben catches me looking at him, and his eyebrow arches. My attention is drawn to his lips. It’s clearly been way too long since I’ve kissed someone, since now all I’m thinking about is the feeling of them against my palm. They were so soft. I should figure out which lip balm he uses. I want mine to feel like that when I finally do meet a girl again.
“What?” he asks.