“We should let this go to voice mail,” Erin said. “I’m sure the message will be very enlightening.”
It stopped ringing, and we all listened for the ting of the voice message alert. “You can’t listen to that voice mail,” Rupert P. said. “And not only because I absolutely do not allow it, but because you haven’t got the password.” He began to laugh. “Joke’s on you, you psychopaths! Go ahead, keep my phone. It’s completely useless to you without the password. And you’ll never get it out of me.”
“Apple?” Erin said. A smile was spreading on her face the way blood spreads when it’s spilled.
“Try P-I-M-P,” Apple said.
Erin’s index finger bounced around the screen four times, and the phone turned as bright as her smile.
“Bloody hell,” Rupert P. murmured.
Erin put the newest voice mail message on speaker.
“Babe,” came the deep male voice on the phone, “where are you? I’ve been waiting in my room all this time. Just went out for a bit of ice, did you? I hate when you … You can be such an arsehole sometimes! But then you’re well aware of that, aren’t you? I’m done waiting. You can spend the night in your own room.”
And just like that, I knew that we had him.
And that Erin wasn’t about to let him go.
Rupert P. was gay.
I guess I should’ve mentioned that earlier, because—full disclosure—all of us kind of knew it already. All of us except Apple, apparently.
She marched up to me, grabbed my hand, and led me to the farthest corner of the room. “Why would Griffin call Rupert P. ‘babe’?”
In case you’re not up on the major players in The Ruperts’ camp, allow me to educate you. Griffin Holmes was the stylist for The Ruperts. It was his job to outfit each of the boys in the clothes they wore on tour and for events. Also, he was rumored to be Rupert P.’s secret boyfriend.
“And why was Griffin’s name the first thing Rupert P. said when he woke up?” Apple said.
Maybe Rupert P. gets tied up a lot, Apple. Maybe Griffin’s the one doing the tying. Maybe that’s their thing. “I don’t know.”
I should’ve told her then, but I couldn’t. Rupert P.’s sexual orientation was a point of much speculation among the fans. Except Rupert P. fans. Which should not come as a surprise; if they were willing to overlook the fact that he was a disaster of a human being, they were willing to overlook the fact that he was gay. If I told Apple what the rest of the world and I secretly already knew, it would break her heart.
“Apple, calm your tits,” Erin said, her tone as level and patient as a teacher’s. “No need to lose your chill because your lover boy likes dick.”
Leave it to Erin to do the job for me.
“I do not like dick!” Rupert P. said.
“He does not like dick!” Apple said.
“Well, that settles it,” Isabel snorted.
Erin walked up to Rupert P., and the way she was looking at him was the way a cat might look when you tossed it a shiny new ball of yarn. She swept an index finger along his jaw, down to his chin, and there was absolutely nothing sweet or romantic about it. Frankly, it scared me.
“Is Griffin your boyfriend?” she asked, her voice so saccharine it made my teeth ache. “Do you want us to get him for you?”
Why was she acting like this?
Apple stepped in front of Erin. “Rupert P. and Griffin Holmes are just friends,” she said.
“Sure they are,” Erin said. “Just like your always-a-bachelor uncle Patrick and his roommate Alistair are just friends.”
“Uncle Patrick doesn’t like to live alone!”
“Can we get back to the tea here?” Isabel said. “We have his phone.”
It was then that we all realized, with the same instant force of clarity, that Rupert P.’s cell phone was an unearthed treasure trove. It didn’t matter that none of us except for Apple liked him. A person’s secrets were worth something. And a phone was nothing if not a keeper of secrets. I got what Erin meant about having all the power. I was starting to feel it.
Rupert P.’s phone was everything we could hope to get our hands on.
It was one hundred times more valuable to us than he would ever be.
It was almost as good as meeting the boys in person.
Almost.
It was friggin’ comical how fast I dropped my resolve to release Rupert P. in favor of having all that info on his phone.
But even though Isabel and Apple and I all lunged for it at the same time, Erin took a step back, keeping our new toy out of our overeager hands.
She looked to Rupert P. “On behalf of me and my friends, I apologize. I think we may have accidentally caused a tiff between you and your boyfriend.”
“Alright, alright, I surrender,” Rupert P. said. “I give in. You’ve had your fun now. Do you want to make a deal? Let’s make a deal!”
“Do I look like a fucking game show?”
“Please,” Rupert P. said. “You give me back my phone, I walk out of here and I don’t say anything to anyone.”