Page 87 of The Comedown

A moment of silence hangs in the air, which is never a good sign. We’re literally here to talk. I don’t want to talk about the night on top of the bus though. I can’t without breach of contract.

“Julez is a big fan of crowd-surfing,” I say before holding my breath.

“Yeah, he sure is.” Scott nods like he’s throwing me a bone, which he kind of is. I need to get us off this train of thought.

“That shit got a little crazy…wouldn’t you say, Collette?” Lon says, watching me closely.

Leaning forward so he’s against the mic, Julian interrupts with, “My shows are always crazy. What are you getting at? And why the fuck are you looking at her like that?” His shoulders scrunched near his ears, he rotates his head my way.

Avoiding both men’s penetrating stares, I say, “I’m just happy we could give the fans in LA something. We were disappointed part of the show got cancelled just as much as they were. Fingers crossed tonight’s show has clear skies.” I tell them more about our show in the heart of Washington tonight as well as where people can purchase tickets. It’s at an outdoor music festival in a gorge, overlooking one of the rivers that snakes through the state, which I think is a big enough selling point alone, so I make sure to mention it.

The subject change doesn’t work, and Lon lowers his voice, only responding to the first part of what I just said. “You definitely gave them something.”

Julian’s out of his chair, pointing at Lon as he says, “You’re doing a lot of insinuating right now, motherfucker. You got something to say, fucking spit it out before I put your head through the wall.”

“You didn’t know?” Scott asks Julian before looking at me. “—doesn’t know?”

“Know what?” Julian snaps, his jaw twitching.

Lon shrugs. “To be honest, we thought you were in on it. Like an open relationship.”

My heart starts racing so loud I swear the mics are picking it up.

“Yeah, the rumors have been nonstop since The Family Julez Tour started with pictures of you two everywhere and the performances onstage.” They both pretend to fan themselves, and I drop my gaze, staring at the dusty wires running across the table’s surface. “So, when Collette gave a little extra something to those ‘disappointed fans’ to make up for the cancellation…”

I tune out the rest. So it’s on me. I gave to those remoras, did I?

“Collette? What the fuck are they talking about?”

I just shake my head. I know I’m not allowed to tell Julian certain things and it looks like nobody else on his team is either. How does he not know anything though? Slade keeps Julian’s social media passwords from him because Julian loathes social media, but doesn’t he hear the news from anywhere? Or anyone?

“Here. We’ll show you, Julez. We have the clip.”

A TV mounted on the wall beside our heads springs to life, then the black screen is replaced by a video of the remora lying on top of me with my arm clenched around his neck just before we roll off the side together. With absolutely no context, it looks like I’m pulling him to me to kiss, to fuck—willingly. It doesn’t show the other remora holding my feet in place just seconds before the fall. It doesn’t show the fear churning inside of me during the entire ordeal. It doesn’t show the truth at all.

I watch the video once, only once, because it’s enough. I already know exactly what went down, and it’s nothing like what these men are trying to make it out to be.

Releasing my headphones, the headband portion slides forward to hang loosely in front of my face while the clip plays on a loop, the hosts narrating every sickening second to their audience.

Julian curses, turning to leave, but I shoot a hand out, blindly catching his wrist. If I can’t tell him, I want him to at least see. I feel like he’s the only one that could understand without me needing to tell him at all. Maybe I’m a moron for wanting him to see that I wasn’t ready to fuck some random guy the second he was out of my sight. Maybe I’m a moron for thinking he even cares in the first place.

But he wouldn’t be reacting like this if he didn’t. So maybe…I’m just a moron for liking the possibility that he does care at all.

Julian watches it through one more time, then barks, “Shut it off.” He pulls my mic to his mouth, and says, “The interview’s over. Yinz can go fuck yourselves.” He helps me to standing, carefully removing the headphones still trying to cling to my ears, then he overhand throws them at the TV, splintering the glass.

Our hands clasped, he pulls me behind him out the door, away from the hosts’ angry shouts. Slade immediately attempts to intercept us, but Julian just shakes his head at his agent, taking me down a hall until we reach the men’s restroom.

Pushing the door open, he makes sure it’s empty, then tugs me inside and flicks the lock behind us.

Stopped in front of one of the sinks, he reaches up to grab my glasses, but I stop him, shaking my own head.

“Let me see.”

“Let you see what?”

“What he did.” He winces like he’s in pain. “Were there more?”

I give a small nod. Nodding isn’t telling, per se.