That would be the easy thing to do. Just brush it off as some Photoshopped image, but that would be as if I’m denying Ryan and I can’t… I won’t do that. I don’t care if it saves my image or keeps my face out of the press. I’ll just have to be more careful.
I shake my head. “It’s exactly what it looks like.” I want my voice to be confident, but it’s not. It falls flat, weak.
“Who is he?”
This time I clear my throat. I have to tell Ian everything; if I don’t, he won’t be able to protect Ryan and me. “His name is Ryan Stone and I met him in Jackson.”
“And?”
I look up at Ian. He’s leaning forward as if I’m about to tell him a story, like one he hasn’t heard in years, the type my grandma used to tell me when I was little.
“And what?” I play stupid.
He stands up, tossing his hands in the air. “I hate it when you play stupid, Hadley. That photo was not taken in Jackson.” He paces, stopping every two steps to shake his head. I know he’s trying to keep his temper in check. My image is everything, not only to me, but to my brand. I’ve worked hard – and he’s worked hard – to create this persona that America loves and I know I can’t afford to screw it up.
“I went to his town… for church,” I add, hoping to ease the tension.
“I went with her.”
“Yet you let her sneak off with some random guy so she can make out under a fucking oak tree?”
Alex steps forward. I grab her arm, holding her next to me. She doesn’t need to fight my battles, especially this one.
“Alex didn’t let me do anything. I went with Ryan, willingly. It was my idea. I took Alex along so that I wouldn’t be alone on the drive out there.”
Ian nods. “Are you done with this guy?”
“No,” I say, strongly.
He leans his head back and laughs. “Perfect. So I can expect him on tour.”
I shake my head. “No, he’s in school.” Alex sets her hand down on top of my arm. I look at her. She’s shaking her head, telling me to keep quiet. I look back at Ian as he watches our silent exchange. I know he doesn’t like Alex, never has, but I don’t care. She’s not here to appease him, but to accompany me. “Ryan won’t be joining us on tour, Ian.”
He looks at his watch and walks over to the door. He opens it and I half expect Anal Anna to fall through from pressing her ear against the door. Ian looks back at me and shakes his head. I know what he’s thinking; he’s worried. Worried that I’m going to screw up again and he’ll have to do damage control. The only problem is if I screw up, I’m pretty much done. Damage control or not, I’ll never sing again if we get caught.
Ian pulls the door shut, loudly. I jump as the metal door bangs against the door casing. I look at Alex, the realization that I’m in deep shit evident in her eyes. “What are you going to do?” she asks. It’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it? I’ve done this to myself, created this mess. Ryan was an innocent party until I needed to talk to him. He’s going to be dragged through the mud, any and all skeletons exposed. He’s going to hate me.
“I don’t know.” I move away from her, needing space to think. There’s a knock on the door before Anna is back in, ready to finish my hair. I go on in thirty minutes and for the first time in a long time, I don’t want to. Right now, all I want to do is pick up the phone and apologize to Ryan for this mess I’ve put him in.
Anna motions for me to sit down. I sulk over to my chair and sit. Her hair-pulling begins immediately. Alex hands me a tissue for my tears and I can’t help but wonder if she knows they're for Ryan or because she sees Anna destroying my hair.
CHAPTER 15
Ryan
School sucks.
It’s always sucked, but now all I do is watch the clock for the bell to ring so I can text Hadley. This newly-formed habit makes my day drag out longer. The one, maybe two, texts in between classes do nothing to curb my desire to speak with her.
It’s been over a week now since I’ve seen her and probably one of the longest weeks of my life. Although, I’ve never counted time that way until now. I’ve been caught daydreaming a few times. A few slaps on my back from classmates to get my attention while a teacher stands at the front of the room, glaring. I’ve always answered when called upon, but that was before.
In a matter of one week I’ve gone from that dependent student – the one who turns in all his work, stays for extra credit and never says a word without raising his hand – to a zombie teen who isn’t sleeping at night and is forgetting simple things, like putting my name on the top of my paper.
It’s Hadley’s fault. I’m not strong enough to tell her that with the time difference, I should be sleeping instead of waiting for her to call after her show. I wouldn’t tell her anyway, I need to hear her voice. It doesn’t matter what time it is or if I’m asleep. She’s all that matters.