There was the sound of a whimper, and for a moment I wasn’t sure if it came from Rupert P. or Apple. I patted her shoulder in a show of support anyway.
“You and Griffin make a cute couple,” Erin said. She actually sounded sincere for once. “I don’t know why you’d try to hide your love.”
Rupert P.’s head fell forward and his shoulders slumped. “Why do you all hate me so much?” he said. “What have I ever done to deserve it?”
“Well, there was that time The Ruperts canceled their second American tour because you said you had mono when you were actually seen all over Vegas gambling hundreds of thousands of dollars for four weeks straight,” Isabel said.
“He has a debilitating gambling problem!” Apple said. “It’s nothing to joke about.”
“Or that time you held a private juggling performance for that dictator’s son’s birthday party,” Erin said.
“He had to pay off his gambling debts somehow!” Apple said.
“There was the famous nose-picking incident at the Video Music Awards,” I said.
“The fact that you’re a Roman Polanski sympathizer,” Erin said.
“The time you punched that baby in the finger,” Isabel said.
“That baby had it coming!” Apple said.
“The time you drunkenly called in to that radio station and spoiled the ending to Game of Thrones.”
“Everyone had already read the books!” Apple said.
“The time you threw up on the entire first row at the Berlin concert,” Isabel said.
“He had bad shellfish!” Apple said.
“Bad shellfish and a bottle of absinthe.”
“Do you realize how much effort it takes to get every single person in the front row?” Erin asked. “Green slime everywhere.”
“All of those girls agreed it was really easy to wash out of their hair!” Apple said.
“The nudes.”
“Come on,” Apple said. “Everyone and their grandma has leaked nudes these days!”
“The racism.”
“The ageism.”
“Not to mention the sexism.”
“The well-documented hatred of your own fans.”
“The bordering-on-disturbing Troll doll collection.”
“Did we miss anything, girls?”
“That about covers it,” I said. And that, ladies and gents, is what made Rupert P. of The Ruperts such a spectacular. Fucking. Flop.
“So what did you ever do to deserve this?” Erin said. “You’re a cold sore on picture day. You are a fart in a cramped elevator. You are the gum on the bottom of my Louboutins. You, Rupert Pierpont, are a miracle of awful. But hey, you do you.”
“Alright, alright,” Rupert P. said. “Just tell me what I can do so that you don’t show anyone those videos of me and Griffin. Please!”
Erin walked over to his chair, stood right before him. He couldn’t see her, but something told me this wasn’t about him so much as it was about Erin. She stood tall, looking down her nose at him. “Why don’t you beg for me, love?”
Something about the way she said it—the way she made the word “love” sound so cruel—brought me to my senses. I pulled her by her elbow and dragged her to the corner of the room. I got in her face, and what I saw, unbelievable as it was, was something that amounted to tears in her eyes. At the very least they looked awfully glassy. I’d never seen Erin cry, or even come close to it. But then she blinked. She fixed me with a pressed gaze, and I said, “What you’re doing isn’t cool.”
“And what is it that I’m doing?”
“I have no clue,” I hissed, keeping my voice low enough so that only she could hear me. “But taunting him like this? Using Griffin against him? Your actions are bordering on the homophobic. And I don’t know what you might be thinking, but it isn’t a total scream.”
“Do you honestly think I’d out him? Contrary to some of my actions today, I’m not a raging asshole. I’d never do that to someone.”
“Yeah, well, Rupert P. doesn’t know that.”
“The point: You’re finally nearing it,” she said. “Rupert P. has something to lose. I’m not going to give him special treatment just because he’s gay. If I did, that would be the real injustice here, wouldn’t it? Think of how far it would set us back as a society.”
Behind us, Isabel had taken over Erin’s role, and now she was the one standing over Rupert P. “What suite are the boys staying in?” she asked.
“Room 1620,” Rupert P. said.
“Where is your room key?”
“Back right pocket.”
“I volunteer!” Apple shouted.
“Let’s go!” Isabel said.
“Wait, you can’t just go into their room,” I said.
“She’s right,” Erin said. “What if they’re there now?”
That was not what I’d meant at all. But she did have a point.
“Where is the rest of the band?” Isabel asked Rupert P.
“I don’t know.”
“We can ask them.” Erin took Rupert P.’s phone and typed out a group text to the rest of the boys, whose names were clearly marked in the contacts.
Where are you?
The first text came back from Rupert X.
I told you to never fckin txt me u stupid ginger gint.
“Drag him!” Isabel said. “Rupert X. might be my new favorite Rupert.”