Page 99 of Rebooting Conor Flynn

“Hope so.” Rhys took the water from Jade and whispered in her ear as she giggled.

At least one couple on this tour didn’t have to hide things.

Ashley ascended the steps to the stage, teetering on her four-inch heels and clutching a red solo cup filled with something that made her smile. Or maybe it was just her knowledge that I’d never release those photos that had her grinning from ear-to-ear.

She patted me on the back. “No break a leg from my publicist?

“Have a great show, Ashley, and I hope whatever’s in that cup improves your voice.”

The smile dropped from her face as she handed the cup to a gofer dogging her steps.

Rhys and Jade hid their own smiles behind their hands as Jade gave him a push toward the stage.

I stayed in the wings as Ashley started her set, my muscles tight, my jaw clenched. She sounded worse than ever, so I guess the drink didn’t help and neither did the sheen of victory.

But she had the crowd going with her interaction with them. She might not please the critics, but her fans adored her—especially when she leaned into the broken-hearted Ashley routine.

When she mercifully reached her last song—before the encore duet with Conor—she placed a hand to her throat and said, “This one is for all the bruised hearts out there. For all of us who love too hard and foolishly.”

I snorted silently. I’m convinced the only thing Ashley loved was her career.

And where did that get me?

When she finished the song to cheers and adulation, she held up her hand. “Should I do it? Should I bring him out for this encore?”

Conor had appeared beside me, vibrating with anger. “She’s really pushing this.”

“It’s the only thing she has at this point. Did you hear her singing? Half the audience doesn’t even know what she’s talking about.”

“Really?” Conor raised his eyebrows at me—the first time he’d actually looked at me since we talked on the bus. “I’ll make her regret it.”

I reached for his sleeve, but he blew past me to stride onto the stage.

His stans and Five2 fans still loved him and clapped and screamed when he appeared. I held my breath when he grabbed the mic, but all he said was, “Let’s do this, Ash.”

She nodded and launched into the first verse. After a few lines, her voice wavered and she finished on a whisper.

Conor started his verse, and the contrast almost made the A-Bens stop screaming. His strong vocals gave life and emotion to the song, which were completely missing from Ashley’s rendition.

She tried to match his intensity with her next try, but she sounded like a rooster in heat.

Conor smoothly raised his mic and took over for her. It played out that way for the rest of the song. Conor took up the slack and delivered.

Once again, Ashley hid her poor vocal quality behind histrionics and snarky asides about lost love and heartbreak. Did the audience actually buy her BS? From the smattering of boos at the end of the song, it would seem so, but Conor came off a hero—to me, anyway.

On stage, he made a show of kissing Ashley on the cheek and grabbing her hand. He raised their hands together and then tugged her offstage with him.

Once they were out of view of the audience, Ashley rounded on him. “Do not sing my parts. Do you know the meaning of duet?”

“Yeah, a duet is when two people sing together—not when one sings and one croaks.”

“It seems the crowd loved my croaking more than your singing.”

“Your fans love your drama. It has nothing to do with singing, or whatever that is you do up there.”

“Uh, guys.” Tomo stepped into the fray with his phone held up.

Ashley snapped at him, “Not now.”