“Do you think I’m fired? I’m probably fired,” I babbled as I walked towards my favorite coffee shop with Cassie. “What else could this meeting be about? I’m definitely fired.”

Cassie turned to face me. “Stop it,” she said, putting her hands on my shoulders. “Stop pre-emptively firing yourself. You don’t know what this meeting is about. It could be anything.”

I gave her a look.

She relented. “OK, sure, it’s probably about the Austin James piece, but how in the world could he know that you and Austin consummated your relationship?”

“First of all, we did not consummate our relationship,” I told Cassie. “Because we don’t have a relationship. And also, don’t use the word consummate.”

Cassie grinned at me.

“You should have kept it in your pants,” she teased, and I was starting to regret telling her what had happened. “I don’t want to say ‘I told you so,’ but—”

“Can’t you just be supportive?” I asked as we got into line at the coffee shop.

Immediately Cassie’s teasing expression dropped.

“Of course,” she said seriously. “You know I’m just jealous that one of us is finally having good sex. I really thought it would be me first.”

I laughed a little at that.

Cassie gave me a thoughtful look. “Just deny everything,” she said. “After all, you’re right: there’s no way that Richard could know about the two of you. There’s no way that anyone could know—unless you or Austin went to the press and I can’t imagine either of you doing that.”

I recoiled. “Definitely not,” I said, also remembering how freaked out Austin had gotten at the idea of my brother finding out that we had slept together. There was no way he wanted anyone to know about this—and the same went for me. It was better for everyone if it remained a secret.

“So even if Richard suspects something, he doesn’t have any proof,” Cassie said firmly. “So deny with confidence. He doesn’t know anything.”

Cassie’s words, plus coffee, definitely helped my stress levels as we walked into the building. Cassie went to our cubicles, but I went straight to Richard’s office. His secretary led me in.

Richard was sitting behind his desk, wearing a super shiny suit, his hair slicked back. He was on the phone. He stood when I entered, gesturing for me to sit down.

“Sounds good,” he was saying to the other person on the phone. “We’ll send photographers to wait outside of the hotel. We’ll get the shot. Thanks for the tip.”

He hung up and wrote something down on a piece of paper.

“You’d think celebrities would get a little better at hiding their affairs,” he said, more to himself than me. “But who cares who they’re fucking, as long as they get caught and we reap the benefits.”

I cringed a little at his language and his personal philosophy, but forced a smile on my face when he directed his attention towards me. He sat back down, folding his hands on top of each other.

“So,” he said, leveling a serious look in my direction. “Is there anything you want to tell me?”

Whatever confidence Cassie had instilled in me immediately died. Did he know? I kept trying to tell myself that there was no way he could, but I couldn’t get my mouth to say that I didn’t know what he wasn’t talking about. I couldn’t get my mouth to work at all. So I said nothing.

Richard gave me an impatient look.

“The Austin James piece,” he urged. “How’s it coming along? I haven’t gotten an update.”

An update. He just wanted an update.

Immediately I relaxed. And then tensed again because I didn’t really have an update on the piece. Because I didn’t have a piece yet. Because I had been too busy fucking Austin to do what I was really supposed to be doing with him—interviewing him.

“It’s coming along,” I said, choosing my words slowly. “He’s pretty defensive and private, but I’m getting there.”

Richard looked frustrated. “How much longer do you need to get the dirt?” he demanded. “There’s got to be something. A guy with his track record . . . Booze? Pills? A couple of kids stashed away with a groupie in Vermont? I need you to find out what nasty little secrets he’s hiding, and fast.”

I stared at him in shock. “I didn’t know this was a hit piece,” I said.

Richard stared at me like I was a child. “Don’t give me that bullshit, we’re just looking for the truth.”

“There’s not . . .” I tried to keep my cool. “Austin’s not like that. I’ve known him for years, remember? He’s a good guy.”

Richard looked disappointed. “Fine, if you don’t find any personal scandal, then go after the professional mess. Both you and I know that the official story about the band’s breakup is bullshit. Bands at the peak of their popularity don’t just decide to walk away. There’s something there. Something Austin doesn’t want to tell anyone.” Richard pointed a pen at me. “That’s our big exclusive; we’ll have everyone clicking to read the truth.”

I paused. “I don’t know if I’m the right person to write that kind of story,” I said lamely, but Richard ignored me and thumbed through a pile of papers on his desk.

“The only reason people are going to read an article about Austin James is if we give them something juicy. No one cares about a boring, serious profile of the artist at work, his creative process and influences, blah blah blah. They only care about the drama. And there’s drama there. I can smell it.”

He pulled out a business card and handed it to me.

“That’s the number for their former manager,” he said. “He still works with Danny. I want you to meet with them. I’ve been hearing through the grapevine that there’s some bad blood between him and Austin. If there’s dirt, I bet he’ll be willing to share it.”

I reluctantly took the card.

“Remember, drama,” he said, with a wide grin. “If you get this one right, we could be looking at a big promotion.”

I left Richard’s office feeling like crap. I had expected to get fired, but this alternative wasn’t that great of a consolation prize. Sure, I’d started out just as curious about the band’s breakup and Austin’s big secrets as anyone, but after getting to know him—how fiercely he protected his privacy and wanted to stay out of the headlines—I knew there was no way he would want that information splashed across the front page.

But if my boss found out I was holding out on him, or purposefully trying to hide anything, then I would be in a whole heap of trouble. Like, fireable offense, don’t let the door hit you on the way out kind of trouble. I paused, turning the card over in my hand. Maybe the safest option was to follow the story for now, and figure out exactly what the real truth was behind all this speculation. Maybe there was no drama to find, and my conscience would be clear.

Maybe.

---

I arranged a meeting with me and Danny at the studio where he was recording his second solo album. I hadn’t even known that he had put out a first solo album, which was not a good sign for his career, but I figured interviewing him was a good place to start. With any luck, he’d give me the same line about an amicable breakup, and I could tell Richard that the lead just didn’t pan out.

As I was arriving at the studio I got a call. It was from Austin. Guilt filled me as I answered.

“What are you doing tonight?” he asked.

“I think I have plans with Grace,” I lied, even though I wanted to see him.

“Was she permanently scarred from what she witnessed this morning?” Austin teased. “Does she need therapy?”

“Probably,” I joked. “Your bare chest has brought down many a stronger woman than her.”

Austin laughed. “Do you include yourself in that assessment? Has my bare chest brought you down?”

“I think you know the answer to that.” I couldn’t help flirting back.

“Well, I do enjoy bringing you down,” he said in a husky voice. “No, wait, I mean to say, I enjoy going down.”

My skin got hot and tight. “I should go,” I said, though I couldn’t erase the lusty rasp in my voice.

“Are you sure?” Austin asked, sounding just as turned on. “I know some very reputable hotels that will rent us a room for the afternoon. Or all night.”

I was tempted. “I have to work,” I said, staring up at the studio.

“Right.” He sounded resigned but accepting. “Of course you do.”

We hung up without making any plans, though I could tell that Austin was eager to see me again. The feeling was mutual, though it was better that I pushed Austin out of my mind, at least until I had gotten this interview with Danny over with.

Inside, I signed in and headed down a warren of narrow corridors to a recording studio in the back. I checked the door. “Excuse me?” I asked one of the cluster of people hanging out in the production booth. “I’m looking for Danny?”

She nodded through the soundproof glass, to where a guy was standing in the recording space, his back to the divide.

He was wearing leather pants, a leather vest, and no shirt. He was adorned in jewelry—mostly silver chains but there were some embellishments that had feathers attached to them. It seemed as if he had dyed his hair black with the help of an over-the-counter dye, the color of which matched his thick eyeliner. Even though he was about Austin’s age, he looked a little like an aging, molting blackbird.

I watched as he squeezed his eyes shut and sang into the microphone.

“Baby, baby, baby,” he crooned. “Let me lick you like a kitten with cream.”

I cringed at the gross song lyrics. His voice wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t something that drew me in. The lyrics definitely didn’t help, and they only seemed to get worse as the song went on.

“You are my baby doll,” he sang. “Let me put you on the shelf . . . cutie pie . . . little elf.”

I smothered a laugh with a fake cough, and glanced around the room. Was I the only one trying not to crack up here?

“That’s a take,” the sound engineer said into the microphone. Danny sauntered back into the studio to a wave of applause.

“Oh my god, that was like, amazing.”

“Number one hit, right there.”

“Platinum, baby!”

Danny looked around and honed in on me. “ChatBuzz, right?” he asked, as if ChatBuzz was my name.

“Mia.” I held out my hand. He ignored it.

“What did you think?” he demanded. “Sick, right?”

I coughed again. “It’s really . . . something.”

“Yeah.” Danny grinned and nodded. “It’s my comeback, going to blow this shit up.”

“Mmm,” I murmured. “Anyway, I’m here to talk about Austin. Well, Method of Madness,” I corrected myself when I saw the look on Danny’s face.

It was anything but amicable.

“Should we… talk somewhere private?” I asked.

Danny suddenly raised his voice. “Oi, everyone out. I’ve got a big interview,” he added, preening. The room quickly cleared and we were left alone.

“You guys were great together in the band,” I started, pulling out my phone and setting the recording app on. “It must have been incredible.”

I figured it was a softball opening, but Danny scowled. “I’m still great now.”

“Of course! I just meant, you know, it’s your origin story, right? The start of your career. I’d love to know all about it.”

I figured laying it on a little thick would work with Danny. I was right. He settled onto the couch, looking more relaxed.

“Yeah, it was a time, alright. The crazy shit we pulled . . . Of course, the press always made out like Austin was the star, but that’s bullshit.”

“Mmmhmm.” I nodded. “Is that why you broke up in the end? You wanted to go your own way?”

“Something like that. Man, if people knew the truth about Austin . . .” He snorted. “Let’s just say, they wouldn’t be fawning all over him.”

I leaned forward. “What do you mean?”

Danny smirked. “You’d like to know, wouldn’t you? But I’m going to keep that story under wraps.”

I tried to keep a pleasant smile on my face, but I really didn’t like this guy. I didn’t know for sure if he was bullshitting, but everything about him screamed “shit-stirrer.”

“Your manager says you have a new album coming out soon.” I tried to change the subject, thinking that I might be able to get something useful if I didn’t address Austin or the band straight on.

Danny nodded, blowing a plume of smoke towards me.

“My second solo album,” he said. “Couldn’t get anyone like you to write about the first one. Everyone just wants to talk about Method of Madness. And Austin.”

He sounded a little like Jan Brady complaining about how everyone loved Marcia. Marcia, Marcia, Marcia. Only in his case, it was Austin, Austin, Austin. Not that I blamed him for his jealousy. It must not have been easy to stand in the shadow of someone as obviously talented as Austin. Especially when your own talent could not measure up.

“This album sounds like a departure from what you did with Method of Madness,” I offered politely.

“Fuck yeah it is.” Danny dropped some ash onto the studio carpet. “That was the worst part of being in the band,” he complained. “Austin thought he was a fucking genius, and never let anyone of us do anything. Ego the size of fucking Texas. It was all about him, and he walked around acting like his shit didn’t stink.”

Apparently, my doubt showed on my face because Danny scoffed.

“You don’t believe me?” he asked.

“Well,” I said slowly. “From what I’ve observed . . .”

Danny snorted. “From what you’ve observed?” he parroted mockingly. “Jeez—it didn’t take long for him to get you wrapped around his little finger.”

“Excuse me,” I argued, but he cut me off.

“You think I haven’t seen this before?” he asked. “You think Austin doesn’t do this with all of his . . .” He gave me a long, unflattering stare. “All of his ‘fans’? Please. He loves the drama, falling in love a hundred times, and he knows just what to say to make you feel like you’re the only one.” He sneered. “Well, sweetheart, I hate to be the one to break the news to you, but you’re not special. In fact, you’re just one of hundreds of girls that have fallen for Austin’s particular brand of bullshit.”

I glared back. “You’ve got the wrong idea. I’m a journalist, not a fan.”

“Sure. You’re better off without him,” Danny said, taking a long drag of his cigarette. “Guys like that have so many secrets that they can’t tell what’s true and what’s false.” He put out his cigarette and gave me a sneaky, smug grin. “But the truth will come out eventually. It always does. And then you better hope you don’t get dragged down in the shitstorm, because Austin James only cares about himself.”