Break It Up

by Tippetts, E. M.

  Zach frowns.

  Rick steps forward. “I don’t think this is conducive to a healthy working relationship, Zach.”

  I wonder if his motivation is sinister or just a product of laziness. If it weren’t two a.m. in New Mexico, I’d have Jason on the phone. Even still, I’m tempted.

  “Listen,” says Aidan, “this is the same contract that Giggle Gals had with Roger Manson for their concert movie. That’s where I got it, and that movie they made is an advertisement for the band from start to finish. You can call their manager to confirm that if you want. Also, consider this: what would be my motivation to smear you? If I ever want any further access to you guys, I’ve gotta stay on your side.”

  He sits forward. “Here’s what I suggest we do next: you find some time to all sit and go over the media reaction to all the recent publicity. You guys talk about how you want your image to evolve. You got smeared by some of the media for that little zoo outing, for example, so let me show you that I know how to turn it around.”

  “Right,” agrees Rick. “Aidan’s a master of this. It’s why I recommended him.”

  Logan sits where he is, fidgeting. He looks even younger than usual.

  “Go for it,” says Ben. “Cancel the tour. I don’t care.”

  “Ben, come on.” Zach makes a placating gesture.

  “No, you come on. Why are we wasting our time with this? This is stupid.”

  “I’m trying to look out for our best interests.”

  “Your best interests,” says Ben.

  “The band’s. Triple Cross’s.”

  “If I—”

  “Guys,” I intervene. “Break it up. Let’s focus here.”

  Zach shoots me a very convincing glare. Ben only smirks.

  But there isn’t much more to say. The problem is, Zach’s got no cards in his hand. Even if he did cancel the tour, the damage has been done. Aidan’s got plenty of blackmail material.

  I watch Zach shut his eyes, and I feel for him. I want to get up, walk over to where he is, and hold him.

  Instead, I clasp my hands in my lap.

  He glances sidelong at me, but fortunately his gaze doesn’t linger. “Fine,” he says. “I want to trust you. That means when I ask you to stop filming, I want you to respect that.”

  “I’ll consider it, but let me show you what I can do with media spin and you might not feel it’s necessary.”

  “And I want to see all teaser clips before they go live.”

  “Yeah, that’s fine.” Aidan speaks as if this is a small issue, an easy request to grant.

  “And I want to see the documentary before it’s released. I may not have a right to demand changes, but I’d like the opportunity to request them.”

  “Of course.” Again, Aidan makes this sound like no big deal. “Listen, I’m sorry if I did anything to make you doubt my intentions here. Really.”

  “I suggest we cancel your interviews today in Geneva,” says Rick. “Given we’re already late. We should get a move on and give Aidan some time to film that footage he wants about the zoo trip.”

  Zach hesitates.

  There really isn’t anything else he can say other than yes. I wish his lawyer had armed him with something more substantial and less dramatic than a threat to end the tour. This is the first time he’s ever had a meeting like this; talk about being thrown in at the deep end.

  “Okay,” he says. “Right. Let’s do that.” There’s no hint of his usual hyper-confidence.

  “Can we go now?” says Ben.

  Zach doesn’t answer, but everyone gets up and files out. “Wheels up in ninety minutes,” Rick announces as he exits.

  The one person who lingers is Aidan, and he comes right over to me. “Kyra,” he says. “A word?”

  As soon as we’re out in the hallway, away from anyone who might overhear, Aidan turns to me and says, “Now, be honest with me. How much did you know about this little meeting beforehand?”

  My mouth goes dry. He isn’t accusing, but even while acting casual, he towers over me. I am his intern, and I was way out of line to advise Zach the way I did. I’ve got no idea what to say, so I settle for the truth. “Zach asked me what I knew about movie contracts,” I say. “And I told him to discuss his with his lawyer. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause trouble.”

  “Ah.” He accepts this. “I see. Well, listen, if you ever do have a problem with me or my methods, I trust you’ll take it up with me first.”

  “I work for you,” I say. “So yes, that’s of course what I should do.” Part of why I’ve kept my friendship with Zach under wraps is to appear professional, and I failed in a big way. I hunch my shoulders, certain Aidan can read these thoughts right from my mind.

  “I know you’re close to the band members socially,” says Aidan. There’s no judgment in his voice or expression. “That’s part of why I hired you. They’re comfortable around you, and I know you’re very well connected in the entertainment industry.”

  “Um…no,” I say. “My connections are my uncle, Triple Cross, and you.”

  “Which isn’t doing too badly.” He laughs. “Save for that third one. I just want to be clear with you. I treat my subjects right and take pride in that, so any concerns you have about my intentions, I would like to know about.”

  “Yes, I…” I turn my gaze to the textured, beige wall to gather my thoughts. Given the floor we’re on, the hall’s nice and wide and the carpet deep and luxurious. “Ever since my dad married a Vanderholt, I’ve seen how it can be with the media and it makes you paranoid. So when I see you shooting footage that would be worth a lot of money to the tabloids, I get nervous. Not that I think you’d actually sell it. It’s an instinct, I guess.” I hope I don’t sound like I’m scrabbling, because that’s certainly how it feels.

  “Sure. Okay. Yeah, trust counts for a lot, doesn’t it.” He pats my shoulder.

  I nod.

  Aidan smiles and walks on past me down the hall. I’m rooted in one spot, certain he knows about my phone call to Jason, the night I spent with Zach, all of it. I have a divided sense of loyalty. On one hand I feel guilty, but on the other I don’t see why I should. It would be unethical of me to help anyone exploit Triple Cross, wouldn’t it?

  I’m not as certain as I would have been ten minutes ago. What if I were working for a tabloid? Never mind that I wouldn’t ever do that. What if I were working for a rival publicity firm? Where would my loyalty have to lie? It’s not an ethical distinction I ever considered before.

  I wander back to Zach’s room, glance around to make sure no one sees me, and find that his door is still open a crack. I don’t need to knock. I just walk in.

  Zach hasn’t moved from where he stood. His hands are on his hips and he hangs his head.

  When I approach him, he lifts his gaze and looks at me. “I’m so bad at this.”

  “You did fine.”

  “I crashed and burned.”

  “You got Aidan to agree to do some stuff differently. That’s a partial win.”

  “You think he’s gonna keep his word?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll ask Jason to look up more about him. Maybe you want Rick to talk to your lawyer, though? Get some pointers for this kind of thing in the future?”

  “Not sure Rick would be down with that.”

  “Then you fire him.”

  “Not sure I can do that. Ben would vote against it just to spite me.”

  “Is now a bad time to ask about your management agreement?”

  “Our mom oversaw that one being drafted. I mean, she was mad about us getting rid of her, but she didn’t want us to get taken to the cleaners.”

  “Well, that’s something at least.”

  “I never thought I’d hear myself say this, but I miss having her
in charge.”

  “Really?” I think of all his stories about being locked away from the world.

  “I don’t know.” It’s jarring how vulnerable he looks right now, and I wonder if this is a recent change or just a side to him he never let me see before.

  I put my hands on his arms and again note how muscular he is. His broad chest rises and falls with each breath.

  He looks me in the eye and manages a smile, which makes him look like his old self. “Thanks for being here,” he says.

  “Of course.”

  He leans down to kiss me, only to break it off when there’s a knock at the door.

  I pick up the tray of pastries, and once he opens the door to find Rick on the other side, I carry it out.

  Rick looks me up and down.

  I ignore him and call back over my shoulder, “You want all of these packaged for the flight?”

  “You can figure this out, I’m sure.”

  “Okay, you remember I don’t work for you, right?”

  “It’s pastries. That too much responsibility?”

  Rick’s attention is on Zach now. I make my escape.

  Okay, so the pretend antagonism is kind of fun.

  The atmosphere on the flight to Geneva is strained, to say the very least. I sit in my corner while Brent films from his seat. The guys of Triple Cross sit, brood, and glare at each other. It’s how I imagine being in the wolf exhibit at the zoo would feel while the pack is deciding on a new alpha. Lots of stare downs and the ever-present threat of an all-out fight.

  For once I really wish I didn’t have to fly on the private jet.

  The tension eases briefly as the plane takes off, pressing us all more firmly into our seats. My ears pop as we climb into the sky and feel more at ease when we level off. I hate the steep climb at the beginning of a flight.

  Ben gets up from his seat and comes to park himself next to me.

  “Hey,” he says. For once he doesn’t act like he’s putting on an act. He doesn’t waggle his eyebrows or try to put his hands on me.

  “Hi.”

  “Did you have a nice night last night?”

  “Hmmm?” The muscles all up and down my back tense, but I do my best to play it cool.

  “Yeah, so something funny happened this morning,” he goes on.

  I’m pretty sure I don’t want to hear this.

  “I got home and saw my cousin walking down the hall without a shirt.”

  So what? I tell myself. That doesn’t prove anything.

  “I asked him if he’d been with you and if you were any good. If all your experience paid off.”

  There’s no point saying anything. One word in my own defense would be too much. I just look at him as if impatient, wondering what his point is.

  “He told me you were a virgin and that if I ever disrespected you like that again he’d throw me out a window.”

  I’m not sure how to answer him or if I even should answer him.

  “Listen, you don’t play with his head like that. The whole naiveté thing he’s got going on? That’s not an act.”

  My mouth is so dry that the skin on my tongue is bound to crack at any minute. I can’t swallow because the sides of my throat are stuck together. A million excuses fly through my mind. Brandy and Marissa were jealous and lying when they spilled the beans about me. It’s a misunderstanding. Zach made an assumption. The truth is, though, while I can let lies I didn’t start slide past, I can’t tell one outright.

  “So what’s your game?” he asks.

  I don’t have one. I’m crazy for Zach and trapped. I look down at my hands and see that they’re shaking.

  “You know that, once he finds out, that’s it. He’ll never speak to you again, right?”

  I nod. “Yeah.”

  “So what are you doing, Armijo?”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Zach’s glare. He is not happy to see me talking to Ben.

  I sit up straighter and level my gaze at is cousin, making it clear with my body language that there is nothing going on between the two of us. “I never meant to lie to him and I don’t want to hurt him,” I confess. “I’ve just…tried to be a good friend to him, and last night he was in a really vulnerable place and—”

  “You pounced.”

  I shake my head. “I didn’t. Nothing like that happened.”

  He looks me straight in the eye.

  “He kissed me,” I confess. “And I made sure it didn’t go too far. I get it, all right? I’m not going to eat him alive.”

  Ben sits back, and I can’t tell if his frown signifies disapproval, disbelief, or disgust. “I thought you and I had something.”

  “No,” I say. “We don’t. Not every girl you tweet is going to fall into bed with you.”

  “Just a certain kind of girl.”

  “That’s not me.”

  He sets his jaw, and without another word, he gets up and moves away.

  Zach stares down at a tablet computer as if he’s been reading this entire time, but I’m not fooled and I doubt Ben is either. For that matter, I wonder how much of this Aidan saw.

  It’s hard to appear at ease for the whole rest of the journey. Fortunately, it isn’t a very long flight.

  Once we land and they open the cabin door, Ben jogs down the stairs from the plane, turns to face the rest of us, kisses the heels of his hands with his middle fingers extended, and flings his arms out, flipping everyone off. “Lay-tah!” he hollers.

  Behind me, I hear people mutter, and I know Ben well enough to know that he’s about to do his disappearing act so that he can freak everyone out again. I am so sick and tired of that routine. Before I know it, I’m halfway down the stairs at a run. His figure on the tarmac has slowed to a saunter, so I catch him easily.

  “Hey!” I shout.

  He stops and pivots. “Hay is for horses.”

  But at least he stays where he is. I’m grateful that the climate in Geneva is mild. No sweltering humidity. “What is your game?” I ask. “You want to ruin the tour? Mrs. Wechsler no longer waits on you hand and foot and you can’t hold it together?”

  “You can’t control me.”

  “Yeah, no kidding,” I say. “But I’ll let you in on a little secret.” I motion for him to lean in.

  He does obediently.

  “Anyone could screw this up,” I half holler right into his ear, making him recoil. “Anyone could run off and get drunk and spend all their time sleeping around. You holding up the show doesn’t make you special. It makes you selfish and immature. Seriously. This is the kind of crap I’d pull when I was in middle school.”

  “You can’t tell me what to do.”

  “I can’t make you do what you should be doing, but hell yeah I can tell you what to do. Do your job. You don’t like Triple Cross? Then get to work finding another gig. Get your own manager. Record a solo album or get into acting or dirt bike racing or whatever you want to do. Don’t just create a train wreck for the people who’ve been your family and had your back for ten years.”

  “Had my back?” Ben seizes me by the arm and hauls me towards the terminal doors. His grip is like iron and my heart races with panic. I wonder if he’s going to hit me. He drags me into the air-conditioned interior, yanks me into a corner, and gets in my face. “Had my back? You know anything about our last manager? Check out any of our old videos, and I’m in long sleeves. You know why?”

  I shake my head.

  “Because she’d pinch me so hard it left bruises. She clubbed me upside the head once so that I got tinnitus. You know what that is?”

  Again I shake my head, wishing he’d let go of my arm.

  “It’s when your nerve in your inner ear gets damaged and you get that ringing sound constantly. Kinda hard
to be a musician if you can’t hear stuff.”

  “She’s gone,” I whisper. “These guys, they didn’t do that to you.” I try to pull my arm free. “Speaking of bruises,” I say.

  Ben lets go and flexes his hands. “Don’t come boss me around like you know something. You don’t.”

  “This is one tour. Finish out this tour and make plans for something else.”

  “Yeah, that’s what she said. Every time I told her I was done. But hey, I’m still here. This is my life, smiling like an idiot while I sing songs written for fourteen-year-olds to sing along to.”

  By now the rest of the group has caught up, but they don’t approach us. Instead they look on while Ben and I face off. Just what I need right now. An audience.

  “Then what can I do?” I ask. “How can I help you?”

  He laughs, looks me up and down, and then says, loud enough for the whole terminal to hear, “Gimme a piece of what you’re giving Zach.”

  “No,” I whisper-shout “Come on. I’m trying to talk to—”

  He turns on his heel and strides off. No matter how many times I call after him, he keeps on going.

  The rest of the group come to crowd around me.

  “What happened?” Logan asks.

  “Kyra, did he hurt you?” That’s Aidan’s voice.

  Zach flexes his hands, and I can tell he wants to shove everyone out of the way and take me aside. One thing about Ben’s last crack, it let Zach know that I haven’t been with Ben.

  “I’m fine,” I say to Aidan. “But he’s not gonna listen to me.”

  “And he’s gone,” says Logan, nodding to something outside my field of view.

  Great, just great.

  “Hey, I tried,” I say. I rub my arm where he grabbed me. There’s no bruise, but there is a red mark in the shape of his fingers.

  “Kyra, stick with me,” says Aidan. “Listen, Kyra is my assistant. She doesn’t take orders from anyone. And no one leaves her alone with Ben, all right?” It’s as if he feels personally responsible.