Sometimes I wondered if Isabel was all bandwidth and hot spots. The Internet, and the shenanigans that transpired within it, made her spark to life like nothing else. Her heart was her site, pulsing with life every time the comments section exploded after a good scoop. She came alive with the chaos. I think she loved it more than she loved the band itself.
This was a next-level scandal, and to Isabel, scandal was the only thing that pulled back the curtain and showed us who our idols truly were. Without the scandal we only saw something manufactured, created by music execs and publicists. For the first time, I kind of got it, and suddenly, I couldn’t wait to see the fallout. How would The Ruperts deal with this shake-up in the coming days? It felt like Pop Rocks. Like I’d just emptied a whole bag of them into my mouth and they were just starting to burst. Delicious.
The song ended and the hosts came back onto the stage and asked the boys some questions.
We waited for them to ask about Rupert P., to address the redheaded elephant in the room. Would they say that Rupert P. was sick and couldn’t perform? That his tweet was fake; that he’d been hacked?
“We’re noticing that one of the members of The Ruperts is missing,” the male interviewer said. “Rupert Pierpont is no longer with us?” There was a slight uptick in his voice at the end of the sentence that turned it into a super-bleak-sounding question.
“Rupert Pierpont quit,” Rupert X. announced.
Gasps, from the studio audience and from us.
“We’re absolutely gutted,” Rupert L. said.
“But we wish him all the best,” Rupert X. said.
I waited for my Rupert to say something, but he stayed silent.
And that was it. The hosts smiled, a new song started up, and the new Ruperts were born.
Rupert P. had been wiped out. It was as if he’d never even been in the band to begin with.
And no one understood that better than Rupert P. himself.
“You’re all going to pay for this!” he yelled. He’d gone batty with rage, and I guess the anger gave him some adrenaline or super strength or something, because suddenly his right arm slipped out of its restraint. And once that one was free he could get his left arm out too.
None of us moved. We probably should’ve tried to stop him, but I think we were all scared of what he’d do in his demented state. His hands were free now. Anything was possible.
He seemed shocked that we didn’t move to tie him again, but he only froze for a moment, and then he started on the tights around his ankles.
“You’re all mental!” he said, his fingernails picking at the knots. “I never understood fans, you know? The worship—that I understood, but the way you all imagine yourselves with us. You call us your boyfriends. It’s so dumb. You think any one of us would get with you?” He stopped and looked up at Isabel. “I’m not being funny, love, but you look and act like a bloody barbarian. There is not a single graceful or feminine thing about you. You think any of The Ruperts would look twice at you if they saw you in this hotel? You look like you work for housekeeping. The only time we’d ever look your way would be to throw our dirty sheets at you.”
Isabel looked angry. Well, she always looked angry, but now her fists were clenched balls at her sides, stiff as frostbite, and her lips were a tight line. But underneath all of that I saw something on her face that I’d never seen before.
Hurt.
“And you!” Rupert P. said. “Your name can’t actually be Apple. You don’t mean to tell me that your parents named you after the fruit whose shape you most resemble. You’re a beached whale! You realize that the only way you were able to get anywhere close to me is because you’re twice my size and I didn’t stand a chance, right? When you charged at me it was like you eclipsed the world. Pretty sure I saw my life flash before my eyes.” He laughed. “That’s exactly what it was. Even if I were straight I’d never love you! No one could. Look at yourself! You really are rotten, Apple. Though I’m sure that’s not the first time you’ve heard that one.”
Tears sprung to Apple’s eyes with shocking force. Well, not that shocking, I guess. I knew Rupert P. was an asshole, but seeing it up close was a visceral experience. It was the kind of 3-D that makes you dizzy and induces vomiting. That was Rupert Pierpont to a T. Apple couldn’t look at him, or any of us for that matter. She took out her phone and gave it all of her attention instead.
“And you!” He turned to Erin, and I really wanted to hear this because, yes, Erin could be a bitch depending on if you misinterpreted her confidence, but on the outside, Erin was beautiful. He could say all he wanted about her personality, but he couldn’t touch her looks. And as Rupert P. took her in, it was like he was doing so for the first time. He seemed stumped for an insult, quiet and contemplative. And then he said, “I know you.”
Erin’s eyes went slightly bigger than usual, and Rupert P.’s lips curled from a grimace into a smile. “Bloody hell, now this all makes sense. You’re the Dublin girl.”