Page 112 of Rebooting Conor Flynn

“You have a tour to finish. It’s not as long as the Australia tour, but you’ll move on when it’s over, just like you did after that other tour.”

Her words twisted the knots already forming in my gut.

“I’ll finish the tour, but when it’s over...”

“Goodbye, Con.”

I sat for a long while, staring at the dark outlines of the hills, after she ended the call, ended our relationship, ended me.

How had I screwed up so badly...again? I didn’t even have the excuse of youth and naiveté. I could’ve handled the situation differently from the start. I wasn’t thinking about her job when I touched her, kissed her, loved her.

I packed up my shit for the next day—the show had to go on, and at least Ashley and I didn’t have to pretend anymore. After Noelle’s statement, 92 West couldn’t run with the sex addict story—daft excuse. Maybe the audience would boo both of us tomorrow night. We deserved it.

I stretched out on the bed and read Noelle’s statement for the hundredth time. She’d turned off comments and hidden likes, so I had no idea how people were reacting. I did a search for my own name on socials, and nobody had brought out the virtual pitchforks yet. Same with Ashley.

But Noelle and especially 92 West had not escaped unscathed. The fans mourned the passing of Conley but supported me and Ash. They saved their scorn for management in general and 92 West in particular for trying to trick them and foist a non-existent relationship on the fandom.

Noelle’s instincts proved correct again—except she paid the price. Somehow, her instincts didn’t work so great for herself.

I saw Gordo’s voicemail again and noted the date and time. He placed this call after my image took a beating and before the photos of Ashley landed. In short, he called when he thought I was at my lowest. I tapped to listen.

“Hey, Con. Sorry about the backlash you’re facing. Give me a call. I’m in New York this week. I have some ideas about the reunion tour.”

I fell back against my pillow. Such a Gordo move to take advantage of someone’s misery. But now I was back on top, thanks to Noelle, and I had my own moves.

Checking the time, I calculated that it was ten o’clock in New York. Gordon was a night owl. If he wasn’t out, he’d still be up.

I placed the call.

He answered immediately.

“Hey, Con. How are you holding up, mate?”

I rolled my eyes. “Everything’s great, Gordo.”

“No more booing? I swear, you boys were never booed when Baker Street was running your tours.”

“Didn’t you read Noelle’s statement? She cleared up everything. The fans don’t blame me or Ashley. I think we can put the bad press behind us.”

“Yeah, Noelle really fucked up, huh?”

Gordon clicked his tongue, and I wanted to grab him by the throat through the phone.

I said through my teeth. “Noelle fixed everything. Just like she always does.”

“She fixed herself right out of a job.” Gordon cleared his throat. “Do you want to hear some of my ideas around the reunion tour?”

“I’d rather hear about another tour—Five2Go’s first Australia tour.”

Gordon sipped something—I hoped it was strong. “You must think I have a super memory or something. I ain’t as young as I used to be.”

“None of us is, but a few people have better recall than others, and someone told me that Noelle’s phone number was changed in my phone so that my texts to her went to someone else. She never got my messages, and I never got hers.”

Gordon’s voice dropped, all of his enthusiasm about the reunion tour sucked dry. “What are you asking me, Con?”

“I’m asking if someone changed the numbers on your orders.”

“I gave the go-ahead.”