Toni swallowed the bile burning up her throat. How had those stories even been released?
“Those are terrible, awful, but I didn’t . . . I wouldn’t.” The knot in her throat strangled her words.
Her journal. Shit! Apparently someone had found it and used it for personal gain.
“Don’t you dare fucking lie about it,” Reagan yelled. “Don’t you fucking lie.”
“I would never—”
Toni’s eyes filled with tears and she shook her head. How could they think she’d do such a thing? She’d been stupid, yes, writing those things in her journal and then misplacing it, but she would never hurt anyone she cared about.
“Get your shit off the bus,” Steve said, “and get the fuck out of here. We never want to see you again.”
“Butch,” Max said.
It was all he needed to say. Butch marched forward, grabbed Toni by the arm, and forced her out of the room. Toni yanked at her arm, but it did no good. Not only did Butch have five times her strength, but he’d obviously escorted unsavory individuals out of buildings in the past.
“Butch, you have to listen to me,” she pleaded. “I didn’t sell any information to the tabloids. I swear.”
“You could at least have the decency to admit you’re a traitor.”
Traitor? This couldn’t be happening.
“Logan will vouch for me. Go get Logan.”
“What he says doesn’t matter. The majority has spoken, and the band wants you off the bus and out of their lives.”
As she collected her belongings, Toni dawdled on the bus in the hope that Logan would show up in time so at the very least she could tell him the truth. He would believe her. He had to believe her. Humiliation filled her with an aching heat as Butch watched her pack her stuff to make sure she didn’t take anything that didn’t belong to her. So not only did he believe she’d betrayed the band and released insider information, but he also thought she was capable of stealing.
“The crew is wearing some of my cameras,” she said. “I’ll go collect them.”
“You’re not going back into the arena,” Butch said. “We’ll mail them to you.”
Mail them? Jeez, did he think she would wrap herself around Logan’s leg and refuse to release him? Yeah, she’d totally do that.
By the time she’d collected everything, some of her hurt had been replaced with indignation.
“I didn’t release any of the band’s secrets. What kind of people don’t even let a person defend herself before passing judgment?” she growled at Butch as he nudged her toward the exit.
“People who’ve been screwed over by conniving reporters a million times in the past,” Butch said. “Get a move on.”
“I need to talk to Logan first.”
“He’ll call you if he wants to talk to you,” Butch said. “If I were you, I wouldn’t sit by the phone.”
“Butch,” she said, trying to keep the tremor out of her voice, knowing it was no use. “You know I wouldn’t do anything to hurt those guys. I care about them too much. I did write those things in my journal, but—”
“You might as well shut up. I’m done listening to you.”
He escorted/carried her off the bus and then pushed her toward the barrier in the parking lot that kept undesirables away from the musicians. She dug her heels into the asphalt. How was she supposed to see Logan and explain to him that she hadn’t betrayed him or his friends if she was forced outside the barrier?
“Don’t make me carry you,” Butch said. “Retain a little of your dignity.”
She’d trade dignity for the chance to tell the truth any day.
“What can I do to convince you that I’m innocent?”
He looked down at her, took her in from head to toe, and crossed his arms. “Not a damned thing.”
In the end, she refused to give up and Butch had to carry her across the lot. One of the roadies followed with her luggage and tossed it none too gently over the barrier fence. Butch set her struggling body down on the opposite side of the metal bars and spoke to one of the security guards, making sure she could hear him.
“Keep a close eye on her and do not let her near the buses. If she puts a toe on this side of that barrier, you call me to deal with her, and I’ll call the police to have her arrested.”
Arrested? For what? She hadn’t done anything.
Why wouldn’t Butch believe her? Why wouldn’t anyone listen?
“Please let me talk to Logan,” she pleaded. “The world won’t end if I lose this job, but if I lose him—” Her voice cracked and all the tension and anxiety, the hurt and humiliation, the fear and devastation streaked down her cheeks in a torrent of tears. She didn’t even care that everyone was staring at her complete meltdown.
“Keep an eye on her,” Butch said to the guard again, and then he whirled around and strode back toward the arena.
She tried to climb over the barrier, but the guard proved worthy of his title.
“Come on, lady, be smart about this. Do you want to go to jail?”
She honestly didn’t care if she went to jail, but if she ended up behind bars, she wouldn’t get to talk to Logan. She called his phone and left a short message. She knew he didn’t have his phone on him since she’d found it between the sofa cushions when she’d been packing her belongings, but she couldn’t just stand there idly and not try to contact him. He was probably still onstage having the time of his life, wondering where she’d gone. Or maybe his band had already informed him that she’d supposedly done exactly what she’d promised she’d never do. She prayed he’d give her a chance to explain and not simply take their word for what had happened.
And what had happened? Someone had obviously gotten hold of her journal, but who? Had a hotel maid taken it from her bag? Had she dropped it and a stranger picked it up? Had Susan stolen it during her presentation?
“Susan,” Toni said, her eyes narrowing. Her editor had wanted dirt on the band members. And boy, had she gotten it. Feeling defeated, Toni rubbed her forehead to try to ease the pounding in her skull. “How could I have been so stupid?”
She hadn’t personally released the information to the tabloids, but she was responsible for someone gaining access to it. She hadn’t protected those she cared about. If she hadn’t written those things down in the first place . . . If she’d been more careful with her journal . . . If she’d just stuck to the prescribed interview questions . . . If she didn’t trust people so easily. If, if, if.
She leaned against a rough stone wall and waited not so patiently for the band to come out after the show. The guard seemed to realize she’d been defeated, so he wasn’t watching her closely as he flirted with a pretty blonde trying to get in to see the bands. Toni hoped to use his lack of attention to her advantage when an opening presented itself.
It seemed to take an eternity for the band to emerge from the back exit. They were uncommonly grim as they strode toward the waiting bus. Reagan, especially, looked pale and forlorn. Logan brought up the rear, walking several paces behind the rest of them with his head down, as if he was the one who’d betrayed them. She wondered if they’d yelled at him because of what she’d supposedly done.
The security guard was too busy gawking at rock stars to notice Toni shift from the wall to the barrier fence. Abandoning her gear and luggage, she hiked up her skirt and climbed the cool metal railing. She dashed toward the bus. Logan drew to a halt as Toni streaked toward him. He turned in her direction. The look of betrayal on his handsome face made her stumble, but no, she couldn’t fall. Not now. She had to reach him. Had to explain. Oh God, don’t look at me like that, Logan. She feared he wouldn’t listen to her or believe her even if she did plead her case.
An arm around her midsection stopped her abruptly, and her feet came off the ground as she was pulled against a large hard body from behind. She struggled, kicking her feet and shoving down on the arm around her waist with both of her hands.
“Let me go!” she demanded.
“Not a chance,” the guard said. He grunted when her heel connected with his shin.
“Logan!” She struggled harder. “Logan, you have to listen to me. I didn’t do it. I swear.”
Logan shook his head at her, turned away, and continued toward the bus.
“Logan!”
He didn’t so much as look at her as she screamed for him. Yet her struggling had finally weakened the guard enough that she slipped from his grasp. Unprepared for freedom, she stumbled forward, catching her fall on her palms, before regaining her footing and racing toward the bus.
“Logan, please hear me out,” she yelled as he stepped onto the bus. He was too far ahead. She wasn’t going to reach him in time, and he refused to look at her, to give her a chance to explain. He was pulling away from her and taking her shattered heart with him.
The door shut behind him, and she slammed into it with both hands. Pain shot through her asphalt-scraped palms, but she didn’t care. Didn’t care about anything but reaching him. She didn’t know if he’d be able to hear her through the closed door, but she had to try.
“Logan, you know I’d never do anything to hurt you or anyone in the band. Remember when I couldn’t find my journal? Someone stole it or found it. I don’t know. But that’s where the information came from. I didn’t give it away. I didn’t sell it. You know I wouldn’t do that. I love you!” Tears overflowed as she pounded on the door. “Please, Logan, listen to me.”
The bus shuddered as it rolled forward. She walked beside it, banging on the door with one hand. And then she was running, trying to keep up. She stumbled through the parking lot, but it was no use. He was gone. Without even speaking to her. Gone.
She didn’t struggle when someone grabbed her and held her still. It was over. Her dreams. Her relationship with Logan. Her life. Over.
Her legs gave out, and she crumpled to the ground, sobbing for all she’d lost against the unforgiving asphalt beneath her quaking body.
Thirty-Two
Logan leaned his forehead against the inside of the bus door and swallowed against the lump of despair strangling him. He couldn’t hear Toni’s words as she tried to yell through the reinforced steel, but he could hear the desperation in her tone. How could she have betrayed them all this way? Had she played him a fool the entire time, like some sort of spy who used sex to get a man to spill his deepest secrets? No, she was too honest. Too sweet. Too gentle to do anything so underhanded.
But the evidence was on the page. Toni was the only person outside of the band who knew all the stories that had been printed. It couldn’t be a coincidence that they’d all been released in the same tabloid at the same time. What he didn’t understand was why she’d do it. She never seemed desperate for cash. Was she trying to earn enough money to get out from under her mother’s thumb?
“She should be glad Butch was the one who kicked her ass off the bus,” Reagan railed. “I probably would have killed her.”
“You might as well settle down,” Max said. “What’s done is done.”
“Does anyone know a good attorney? I’m going to sue her for libel.”
Logan understood that Reagan was upset. Her story was the only one that was current. Everyone else’s was something they’d had years to process. But she was overreacting. Did she really expect to keep her relationship with Trey Mills and Ethan Conner a secret forever?
“You can’t sue for libel unless malicious lies are printed,” Logan said, shoving off the door and climbing the steps. “Everything in that article was true.”
“I can’t believe you’re defending her!” Reagan yelled. “She ratted you out too.”
“I’m not defending her, just saving you time. You’d never win a libel case. You can ask Jessica Chase if you don’t believe me. She’s a lawyer, you know.”
“You don’t want to take this to court,” Dare said. “If you think this little article has exposed your relationship with my brother, imagine the stink a full-blown trial would create.”
Reagan crossed her arms over her chest and flopped into a chair. “What am I going to do?”
“Own up to your relationship,” Dare said. “You’re not doing yourself any favors by trying to hide it.”
“People won’t understand. They’ll think I’m some sort of deviant just because I’m in love with two men.”
“I agree with Dare,” Steve said. “People blow secrets all out of proportion, and then after the truth comes out, the gossip quickly dies down.”
“I can’t out our relationship. My father will kill me.”
“And if he reads the tabloids?” Dare asked.
“I’ll just deny everything.”
Dare shook his head. Logan sat beside him on the sofa, his stomach roiling with so much turmoil, he feared he’d be sick.
“Did Toni say why she did it?” Logan asked. He still couldn’t wrap his head around the idea that she’d sold their souls to the tabloids. It simply didn’t seem like something she would do. Maybe if he knew why she’d stooped to such a low level, he could find a reason to forgive her. Because damn it all, he couldn’t imagine spending the next five minutes, much less the rest of his life, without her.
“Of course she didn’t say why,” Reagan snapped. “The lying little bitch denied everything.”
“She denied it?”
Logan had initially felt too betrayed to even want to hear Toni’s side of the story, but now that the dust had settled, he was wishing he’d taken a moment to hear her out. She’d obviously been upset outside the stadium. He’d assumed it was because she’d been caught and subsequently fired.
“Yeah, she was going on about some journal she’d misplaced,” Steve said, flicking his wrist dismissively.
“Her journal?” Logan’s breath caught. She’d talked about losing her personal journal over a week before. He’d even gotten her a new one to replace it. “She was upset when it went missing. Shit, she didn’t sell any of us out. Someone took or found her journal and they sold us out.” A weight lifted from his heavy heart as he realized he hadn’t misjudged her character. Toni was the woman he’d fallen in love with, not some poser just trying to get the inside scoop on the band.
He had to call her. He slid his hand into the pocket where he usually kept his cellphone, only to find it missing. He checked his other pocket. Not there either. Shit! Of all the times to be without his phone.
“Has anyone seen my phone?” he asked, rising from the sofa to head for his bunk. Maybe he’d left it there when he’d changed before the concert.
“You are not calling her.” Reagan stepped into his path and placed both hands on his chest.
“Yeah, I am. I can’t even imagine how hurt and confused and upset she is right now.” He needed to tell her everything was going to be all right. That he still loved her. That they had to work things out because she was a necessity to his very existence.
“How hurt and upset she is? She betrayed you Logan,” Reagan said. “She betrayed all of us. You’ve known her a couple of weeks. How long have you known the members of your band?”
“Bros before hos,” Steve joked, throwing up a pair of devil horns.
Logan scowled. “Toni is not a ho. She’s the love of my life. And I’m not going to lose her over some stupid tabloid bullshit.” He grabbed Reagan by both arms and shook her, hoping to drive his point home. “This is the price you pay for fame, Reagan. Your private life is no longer private. The sooner you get used to it, the better off you’ll be. I know you’re pissed off, but let it go and move on. Your life isn’t over because the world now knows you fuck two gay guys. They might think you’re a slut, but so what? There are far worse things you could be.”
Reagan’s jaw dropped. Logan released her and scarcely felt her half-assed slap to his face. He turned back to his bunk. “Where’s my goddamned phone!” he yelled, ripping the bedding from his mattress and shaking it before throwing it on the floor. The phone wasn’t under his pillow or beneath the mattress. He dug through the drawer und
er his bed, thinking maybe it had fallen in with his clean clothes.
“Dude, you need to calm down,” Steve said.
“I’m not going to fucking calm down. What I need is my goddamned phone.”
“Maybe it’s in the back,” Max suggested, grabbing Logan’s bedding off the floor and shoving it back into the empty bunk.
And then Logan heard Toni’s ringtone—Kelis’s “Milkshake”—playing from the lounge. She was calling him! He sprinted down the corridor, expecting to see his phone resting on the coffee table, but it wasn’t there. And neither were Toni’s familiar belongings. He didn’t have time to dwell on the emptiness that barren sight opened in his chest; he had a phone to find. He followed the sound toward the far end of the sectional, eyes closed and head cocked to one side as he listened for direction. The phone stopped ringing, and his heart sank. No matter. It was somewhere in this room. Sofa cushions and pillows went flying in all directions. He shoved his hand into the crack between the sectional’s back and seat, finding a few coins, a cheese curl older than Keith Richards, and a few things he didn’t want to identify, but no phone. He dropped onto his belly and peered under the sectional, hoping it hadn’t slipped too far under there. He’d never get it out.
Face pressed to the carpet, he yelled, “Someone call my phone.”
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