Page 87 of Rebooting Conor Flynn

By the time he finished his set, throwing in a few more Five2 songs, he had the crowd in the palm of his hand. I could run out there right now and jump in his arms, and the audience wouldn’t care.

Fans were fickle. Fame was fickle.

Ashley understood this better than anyone. You couldn’t blame a girl for trying. And I didn’t blame her—not really. It had been my stupid idea to fake a relationship. I had to suck it up and make it right for everyone. That was literally my job.

But I wanted to make it more right for me and Conor than Ashley. Did that make me a bad person?

When Conor left the stage, he nodded at me. Yeah, he’d decided to take some steps himself. The multiple Five2Go songs proved that.

The stagehands scurried around to set up Ashley’s background. The dancers got into position, stretching and preening. The musicians swapped out a few of their instruments to meet the requirements of Ashley’s songs.

Then the queen herself swept onto the stage, her glittering bikini catching the stage lights, her crotch literally shooting sparks.

Her voice sounded rough on the first song—it usually took three or four numbers to reach this point—but her fans didn’t notice or didn’t care. They screamed and shimmied and danced in the aisles.

Ashley didn’t care either. She glowed under the love and adulation. She’d do anything to keep that flowing—throw Conor under the bus, me, probably even Tomo.

As her set ended, she called Conor back on stage for their duet. I held my breath as he joined her. How would they play it tonight?

He jogged out and put an arm around Ashley’s waist. Good start. “We want to end the night with a little duet we did. Maybe you heard it...Love Me Again.”

The audience roared as the band cranked up the opening chords of the song.

Raising one hand, Conor said, “We love a good heartbreak song, don’t we? Cuz we all know that love can get complicated sometimes. Isn’t that right, Ash?”

“Absolutely, Con.” She broke away from him and sashayed to the edge of the stage. “Let’s do this.”

The song went off without a hitch—unless you counted Conor helping Ashley with her parts because she couldn’t carry the tune a hitch. I didn’t.

Both singers looked happy, engaged, the song sounded great, and the crowd loved them—both of them. Maybe we’d turned that corner.

My tense muscles relaxed as the number went into Ashley’s final verse. She croaked the first note, and I hunched my shoulders. “C’mon Ashley. Dig deep, girl.”

She finished the line on a breathy rasp and missed the cue on the second line.

Conor raised his mic and shored up the melody with his strong voice.

I clasped my hands in front of me, nodding. “Bring it home.”

A boo from the crowd wiped the smile from my face, and I peered into the crowd as if I could actually see the culprit. A few more boos echoed toward the stage, and I heard a few catcalls.

“Let her finish.”

“It’s her song too.”

“This is Ashley’s verse.”

The audience was actually attacking Conor for helping Ashley with the vocals. I hoped Ashley and Conor couldn’t hear the commotion from their positions on the stage.

The duet part ended the song, but Ashley dropped her head and stopped singing. The band carried on, as did Conor. I watched in horror as Ashley’s shoulders slumped, and she covered her face with her hands.

Thinking she was in distress, Conor placed a hand on Ashley’s back, but she shrugged him off and ran for the wings.

As she brushed past me, I grabbed her arm. “Ashley, are you alright?”

She turned her head, peering at me through a curtain of blond hair, and gave me a big smile.

Dropping her arm, I jerked back.