I decided I had to go public in person to discount the article and dispel the rumors regarding Maggie and asked my PR team to set up a press conference. They argued against it, their feeling being if I protested too much it would give more credence to the story, but I was determined to have my say and put this rumor to bed. As soon as they knew I wasn’t backing down they then wanted me to issue a statement instead of facing the press in person.

I didn’t feel that was much better than them issuing the denial and refused, telling them if they didn’t set it up pronto, I’d do the job myself. Two hours later I had six news crews and various magazine and newspaper reporters assembled in the parking lot of a local hotel. By the time I faced them my blood was pumping with disgust that I’d managed to drag Maggie into something so distasteful.

We arrived before Flick, my PR spokesperson, who only made it to the hotel with less than ten minutes to spare, but she looked super-efficient and calmly collected by the time she stepped up on the steps of the hotel entrance to address them.

“Good afternoon. Thank you all for coming out today. Noah has called this press conference to put the record straight on an inaccurate piece of reporting which was published in the Australian press in the previous twenty-four hours.”

Turning to look at me before she looked back at them, she said, “When Noah has made his statement we won’t be accepting any questions.” Meeting my gaze again she gestured to me. “Thank you, Noah.”

I acknowledged her with a nod and took my place on at the center of the steps facing the small group gathered.

“I haven’t prepared a statement because I want this to come from my gut so that you can see how disgusted I am about the false reporting that’s out there. Yesterday, Australian time, an article was published which was not only libelous to me and the other party, but extremely distressing to an innocent grieving bystander. A few days ago, one of my crew members working in our styling department died. She was not a drug addict, nor was she attending a drug-ridden after party as was sensationally reported by the press.

Shona Dashwood was an ordinary girl, from an ordinary family. A good family. She died after a social get-together with another crew member. According to the extensive toxicology reports there were no illegal substances involved. She was just a girl who threw up as we’ve all done when we’ve drunk too much, but tragically Shona asphyxiated when she inhaled her vomit. I believe this happens from time to time… to ordinary people. Now, because Shona worked as part of my crew, the press decided there had to be more to the story. There wasn’t.

Had I met Shona? I’m sad to say I never met the girl. I did meet her sister, Maggie. Initially, Maggie didn’t want to speak to me. She felt I was at least in part responsible for Shona’s death, believing if Shona had been home she’d still be alive. I believed that to be true as well. However, Shona did pass in tragic circumstances and Maggie had the arduous journey all the way to Sydney, Australia where we were performing to identify, retrieve, and repatriate her sister’s body. That. Is. All.”

 My eyes roamed the reporters faces as they recorded, scribbling notes or tapping into tablets. At least two film crews were recording live.

“I had no idea that Shona existed as part of the team nor what had happened to her until our plane landed in Dubai, but as soon as I was informed, I asked to meet with Maggie. Obviously, she was very angry and initially refused, but eventually she kindly agreed to hear me out. Did I spend time with her? Of course. Maggie was grieving alone, thousands of miles from home and I felt duty bound to support her. Let’s hope none of you ever find yourselves in her shoes and have to endure what she has had too this past few days.”

“Is it true you stayed the night in her room?” A short, balding reporter interjected. I shot him a glare then continued as if he hadn’t spoken.

“Naturally, I wanted to know about Shona, the girl employed by me, who died before I ever met her. And, I suppose I also felt a strong sense of responsibility to ensure Maggie was taken care of in a strange country. A mutual trust built between us in a very short time and as such Maggie felt more like a friend instead of someone I was doing my duty by. It was because of this I sat beside her during the flight home. When the plane landed, Maggie went her way, and I went mine. There is no other story here except for the tragic death of a young woman.

"Wouldn’t you rather sit beside someone who’s aware of what you are going through at a time like that, given the length of the journey and the circumstances?”

Even though Flick had said no questions, another reporter, a female with a strong southern accent interrupted.

“Hi, Noah, Alison Digby, PR Celebrity Magazine. Excuse me, but given your reputation we’re supposed to believe you suddenly developed a conscience?”

My temper went from naught to a hundred in a heartbeat but because I thought Andrea may see the statement, I held myself in check.

“So I have a reputation? I’m a performer in a rock band. That’s a bit like reading fiction… not everything you see or read is true. Haven’t you worked that out yet? And you choose to believe what you’ve read in the media… the same media that has had to print a retraction of the lies they posted already? Do you all really think you know who I am? If you think I am capable of what they reported why are you even here watching me refute the story the Aussies put out?”

The reporter clutched her microphone a little tighter, the tension showing by the way her fingertips went white.

“Drag my personal life through the gutter all you want. I accept it as an occupational hazard of what I do. Cultivating fame will always cultivate criticism. Fine, do your worst, but don’t target the people we come into contact with and create collateral damage for the sake of making a libelous sensationalist snippet for your respective magazine or newspaper at their expense. I urge you to consider the people you pull into those stories who often have no choice about being thrust into the limelight. They don’t have a platform of denial like I have. And in this case if you have any sense of decorum left since journalism school you’ll leave the Dashwood family alone to grieve in peace.”

“We hear you’re picking up the tab for Shona’s funeral costs.”

I scowled because my plea had appeared to have no impact on another younger reporter, who didn’t look old enough to be doing the job.

“Naturally, she was employed as one of our crew. In all the time Fr8Load have been an entity we’ve had two deaths by natural causes and paid for theirs as well. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a private life to be getting on with. The tour finished a couple of days ago and I was looking forward to a quiet spell before these lies were printed. I know this is an impossible task, but I’ll say it anyhow. Let’s not do this again, shall we?”

The reporters continued to fire questions, some general about the band and a few levied at my lack of contact with Rudi. I ignored them as Eamon held them back as I climbed into the waiting SUV. The first thing I did was try to call Maggie back to tell her I’d held the conference, but her cell went straight to voicemail.

“Hi Maggie, I just want to let you know I’ve set the record straight in a news conference. My legal team has contacted the social media platforms to have all them remove the posts now that the legal team have been on it. I’m going to sue the publishers of the article on your behalf and ensure a retraction is issued with your name on it.” I fell silent for a moment because I wanted to know she was okay and felt hurt to have been put in this position with her.

“Obviously, I’ll be staying away from the funeral, but I’d really like to meet up with you as soon after it as you feel is appropriate. All right, I hope you are okay, and Molly is holding up. You have my number. I hope to hear from you soon, honey. Take care.”

* * *

Three weeks passed with no contact from Maggie and although Annalise went to the funeral and brought me up to speed afterward, I still felt a connection to Maggie. I don’t know why, but I had expected her to at least acknowledge the fact I’d fought for the truth with the press.

It was weird how she’d unexpectedly pop into my mind with increasing regularity. I found myself wondering how life had settled down for her and Molly. One morning I couldn’t stop thinking about them and decided to try to call her again. She picked up at the fourth ring, right before I thought her voicemail was going to kick in.

“Hey, Maggie. Thanks for taking my call. I’ve been thinking about you and I hope you don’t mind me calling. I wanted to know how you’re doing and if you need anything.”

“No, I’m glad you called. I want to apologize for the way—” she started in a soft tone.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. I should never have put you in that position,” I replied, cutting across her apology.

Maggie gave me a sigh of relief, “Thank you for not being mad at me. I wasn’t my usual rational self with everything that was going on.”

I decided to move the conversation forward. “How is Molly doing?”

“Life hasn’t been easy for her. She asked if she could die then she could visit with Shona.”

My heart ached to hear that. “Tough. Even tougher on you when you are the one faced with all the questions. Kids are so innocent, and they have difficulty in understanding a concept like death.”

“Loneliness is the hardest part. You know… doing this alone. My Principal has given me compassionate leave, which will take me through to the summer break. I’m fortunate that I work at a private school because I would have struggled to get three days if I worked for the State.”

“I’ve got a lot of time on my hands. Would you be up to a visit from me?”

“Here?” She sounded freaked out by the idea.

“Or you could come here if you preferred?”

Silence stretched between us until she eventually said, “No offence but I don’t think visiting your home would be the best idea based on what was reported after you came to my room in Dubai. Did you ever get to the bottom of that?”

“I read a bunch of legal papers they sent me. Apparently, it was a member of the cabin crew who spun the story. I was rude to her during the first leg of the journey home and I remember what she looks like. She saw the paperwork about Shona and saw us leaving the hotel in Dubai for the airport together. She happened to be hitching a lift back to New York with her airline on the same plane as us and saw the opportunity to get back at me. She took and sent the picture to a male friend who worked for the paper in Sydney. He then did some snooping in Australia and at the hotel in Dubai about Shona’s death, got info from the receptionist about us meeting and ran the story.”

“Jesus. That’s insane.”

“No, that’s normal for my life. I should have protected you better.”

“If it has any worth, I believe you about the guy who assaulted you, Noah.”

“It’s the truth, but thank you. What made your mind up about that?”

“You. The way you are. You’re nothing like that shit-for-brains rock star image they’ve molded for you.”

I laughed, “Thanks. Wish the judge had seen past the lies that kid spewed out in court. I may have been able to have a life with my son now if it weren’t for him.”

“Truth,” she agreed. “Yes.”

“What?”

“I’d like a visit, but I need to know you’re not bringing the media with you.”

“Would tomorrow night be good?”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I visit with my family on Thursdays. It's common knowledge and the media find the routine of it dull as dishwater. Maybe I could have a car bring you over there. They have a pretty private spread inside a wall of dense woodland and it’s not accessible once you’re inside the gates.”

“And you’re sure no one goes there? Won’t your parents mind? Your family?”

“They love visitors. My dad doesn’t get around much after an accident he had while felling trees, so he enjoys having new people around. I’ve visited there for the past nine years like clockwork when I’m home and the last picture they took of me there was around five years ago. They know there’s nothing to see.”

“Then Molly and I would love to come.”

“Great. I’ll have a car pick you—”

“No. I’ll get someone I know to drive me. Text me the address.”

I was about to argue then thought better of it. If Maggie was going to meet with me, it would have to be on her terms after what she went through with the media. We concluded the call and my chest felt lighter. She appeared to have that effect on me whenever there was any contact between us.

* * *

It was dark by the time Eamon pulled off the road and headed down the old dirt track to my parents’ house. I was still an hour earlier than usual, but I had wanted to make sure I left the way clear for Maggie. I figured if by some remote chance there was someone lurking and I was already inside, they’d leave knowing I always stayed overnight.

Mom was excited because it had been years since I’d brought a female home—high school in fact—but when I explained I was only taking her there for privacy a light went out in her eyes. Nothing would have given her more pleasure than to see me settled after watching me sink to the depths I had after the restraining order was placed on me against seeing Rudi.

When Maggie texted me five minutes out from the turn off to our place, Eamon went down to the gates to ensure she made it smoothly inside the property. Oddly, when I saw her text, my heartbeat accelerated like it hadn’t in a while and I realized I was really excited to see her.