Dreamspinner Press Year Seven Greatest Hits Page 30

  It probably didn’t help the hurt.

  Elliot rubbed his hand on Danny’s hip as he walked out the door. It was the first time they’d touched in weeks.

  GEORGIA DIXON was beautiful, in a slightly creepy, airbrushed kind of way. Her hair was dark brown and pin straight, her skin pale like his, eyes huge and blue. She’d been draped in a dress that was probably worth more than even Elliot’s shiny Mercedes. He wanted nothing to do with her. Still, ingrained politeness dictated he at least try.

  “Hello,” he said, sticking out his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  Georgia raised her eyebrows before shaking his hand with a cool, light grip. “Hi. Elliot, yes?” she asked.

  Nice. She barely knows my name. “Yes. Elliot.”

  “So, we’re not going to talk about our new relationship. You’re just going to smile and wave. If someone asks point-blank I’ll say we’re good friends for now.”

  Elliot didn’t know how he was going to pull off good friends with her. He was pretty sure more than about five minutes in her presence would be enough to freeze his balls off. He smiled anyway. “That’s what my publicist told me as well.”

  “Once we’re in the theater, no funny business. No hand-holding, no leg grabbing, and I’m not kissing you unless that’s added to the contract.”

  Jesus. Is she for real?

  “You really don’t have to worry about that happening.”

  “Why? Are you gay?” She peered at him quietly.

  Elliot felt heat rise on the back of his neck. Might as well. “Actually, yes. I am.”

  “Good. It’s better that way. Just keep your eyes on me instead of Ryan Seacrest’s ass and we’ll be fine.”

  Elliot nearly snorted. If her fans heard her talk like that, they’d probably implode.

  “I have a boyfriend,” he said. Okay, that was a lie. Elliot didn’t want to think about where it had come from.

  “He’s not going to be a problem, is he?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “Then we’re all set. I need to make a few phone calls. We should be there in about twenty minutes.”

  Georgia spent the rest of the ride talking on the phone like Elliot didn’t even exist. He didn’t watch her, but he listened and stared out the window. She was his age. Maybe a year or two older, and she sounded like all of the fun, every drop of youth she’d ever had was long gone, drained from her by years of publicity and image. She wasn’t nice, that much was for sure. She snapped over the phone and rolled her eyes and even let a few swearwords out when things obviously weren’t done to her specifications.

  Elliot had never been a fan of hers, but disinterest passed into active dislike by the time their car had pulled up to the red carpet. Was that what happened to everyone? He was afraid he’d become jaded and empty if he stayed in the game much longer—at least if he didn’t change the rules. All the hiding and game playing made him think mean, critical things he’d have never thought before. Would it get to the point where he was always like that? Where he turned into Georgia, snapping at her team and talking to people like they were ants? Elliot vowed it wouldn’t happen. They couldn’t change him that much. He wouldn’t let them

  “Okay, Boy Band. It’s show time. Smile at me like you love me, hold my hand, and above all let me talk. You’re just here to look pretty in a suit.”

  Elliot wanted to strangle her. But he didn’t. Instead he slid out of the car and held his hand out like a gentleman. Get it over with.

  He thought he’d gotten used to the flashes of paparazzi lights, questions being shouted at him, everyone wanting a piece of whatever action he could provide. It was nothing compared to the feeding frenzy that him showing up with one of Hollywood’s reigning teen princesses caused. Elliot thought he’d have some form of PTSD by the time he made it into the theater. He held Georgia’s hand and tried his best to smile. It wasn’t easy, and he doubted his smile looked real. Other than getting in some sort of trouble from his management, Elliot didn’t care if he sold it. He had to show up. He had to pretend they were on a date. Nobody on his team told him he had to make it look like he liked her.

  “You could try a little harder to lose the tortured face,” Georgia hissed under her breath. She kept a dazzling smile in place the whole time. “Otherwise we’re wasting our fucking time here.”

  Yes. That was exactly what she needed to say to make Elliot smile and enjoy her presence. He had to fight the urge to roll his eyes. Instead he plastered another fake smile on his face and waved at the fans lined up to watch them enter.

  It was a relief to collapse into the theater seat next to Reece. Honestly, at that moment Elliot would’ve given anything to have Danny’s compact, solid warmth next to him, but he might not have been able to handle being stuck between his “date” and Danny, who he was starting to wonder how much longer he could go without. It had been a huge mistake to break up with him. Elliot knew that—he’d known for a while. Nothing was better on his own, nothing had changed. The pressure was still there, horrible and heavy on his shoulders. The press still didn’t leave him alone, the rumors never ceased. The only thing that had changed was he didn’t have Danny by his side to help him deal with it anymore.

  Elliot wondered if it was too late to get it back. He almost asked Reece if he wouldn’t mind switching seats with Danny, but then he changed his mind. It was the wrong place for sure, the wrong time too. And Elliot figured he probably didn’t have the right. If it was one of those situations where he had to sleep in the bed he’d made, he would do it. But not for much longer. He didn’t think he could last much longer.

  “GOOD morning, gentlemen. I trust everyone enjoyed their week off?”

  Not really. Danny had spent most of it walking past the door to what had become Elliot’s room and sighing pathetically. Even he knew it was pathetic. Tate had forced him out of the house a few times, but it was getting ridiculous.

  And then there was the premiere, when Elliot had shown up with Georgia freaking Dixon. Danny had been about to rip her gazillion-dollar European dress off her dumb, skinny body—more like rip her throat out. Even if the Elliot-hungry gossip sites had called that one a publicity date and it was beyond obvious that Elliot could barely stand her, Danny didn’t fucking care. He barely kept from growling into the mic when reporters asked him how he felt about the new power couple. Like he had the right to.

  Danny knew the time had come for him to either really do something to get Elliot back or just give up and move on. He tried to ignore how bad the idea of moving on hurt. Kissing, touching, cuddling in bed for hours and just talking…. None of that seemed right with anyone but Elliot. He didn’t think it ever would.

  The others mumbled and nodded. Sasha folded his hands on his desk. “I’m sure you’re all wondering what exactly I meant by development. Some of your team had a meeting while you were on tour, and we decided that when you returned it was time to get back in the studio and record a second album. Strike while the iron is hot.”

  What? “That’s insane. It hasn’t even been a year since the album came out. They’re still playing ‘Fool for Love’ on the radio.”

  “By the time the album is recorded and produced, it will be about a year. In the tween market that’s perfect timing. We don’t want the girls to forget about you and move on to a new crush.”

  Reece cleared his throat at the word tween. “That’s something we talked about when we were on tour too. The boys and I were hoping to go a bit older this time around.” He looked around for backup. Danny nodded, as did Tate, Webb, and Elliot. “We’ll have more longevity if older teens and even adults aren’t embarrassed to listen to us.”

  “You don’t want to alienate your market. I agree that a more mature sound is fine, to a point. We just don’t want to deviate too much from the Static sound.”

  Which means you want to squeeze every drop of cash you can out of us until our fifteen minutes are over, and then you’ll toss us out. Sure, it was a common story. Danny didn’t f
eel like a martyr. But it would’ve been nice to be the exception.

  “We want to look into recording a holiday single too. I think it would be a great way to keep Static in the fans’ minds in between albums.”

  “A Christmas single?” Reece looked skeptical.

  “Holiday,” Sasha corrected him. “Holiday.”

  “We haven’t even been back a month, and half our time is taken up with appearances. How is the album going to even happen?” It wasn’t often that Tate spoke up, but when he did people tended to listen.

  Sasha nodded slowly. “If you’re worried about time constraints, we can cut down your appearance schedule. The product endorsements are pulling in quite a bit of revenue.”

  Danny was fairly sure he saw Webb roll his eyes and mouth the word product. It was good Sasha couldn’t see him.

  “And we’d like to work with Chris more on this album,” Reece said. The other four nodded emphatically.

  “I have a few big-wig producers who are far more interested in you than they were during the first album. We’ll consult them and Mr. Collins about co-writing.”

  Danny knew nobody wanted to rush their second album. Unfortunately, it was yet another battle they had no chance of winning. At least if they had Chris on board for more of it, they’d end up actually liking the product.

  “Is that all you had for today?” Elliot asked bluntly. Danny turned his head quickly. He knew that voice.

  “Pretty much. Just some marketing meetings, but you don’t need me for those.”

  “Then I have something.”

  Sasha smiled at his media darling. “What is it, Elliot?”

  “I wanna come out.”

  Danny would’ve laughed at the raging panic that flooded Sasha’s face if he didn’t have a mouth full of water. As it was, he barely choked the water down.

  “Elliot. We’ve been over this.”

  “No, we went over Danny and I coming out as a couple. This isn’t the same thing. Danny and I together would’ve put pictures in the fans heads that they may not have liked. I get that. Me by myself? I don’t think it’s as big of a deal. Every boy band has a gay one, right? Isn’t that the stereotype? Let me be the gay one. I’m tired of being ashamed of who I am when I’m not even that person. I hate what people think of me. I want to be myself, and part of myself is being gay. I want the fans to know the real me.”

  “I’m cool with it,” Reece said. Danny already knew his position. He knew all of their positions. They wanted Elliot to be happy. Tate, Webb, and Danny all nodded in agreement.

  “No.” Sasha’s face didn’t show an ounce of give.

  “You can’t tell me I’m not allowed to be myself.”

  “The contract can. And does. Elliot, when those girls scream, far more than a fifth of them are screaming for you. Do you want this to ruin Static’s chance for a successful second album? How ’bout an arena tour? Do you want to take that from these boys?”

  Webb sighed loudly. “I don’t think it has to be like that. For every ten girls, or boys, who would turn away from us, there’d be at least that many who’d come because of Elliot. Because they need someone to look up to, someone to tell them it’s okay to be who they are.”

  Sasha rolled his eyes. “Grow up, boys. This isn’t an after-school special.” He stood. “Are we done here?” Nobody answered. “Good. Keller will meet you gentlemen starting Wednesday in the studio for rehearsals and preliminary work. I’ll be in touch with Chris and the others to get a list of potential songs ready.” Sasha left the meeting room. The door swung to a mannerly, quiet close. It might as well have slammed.

  “Sorry, El. That was some fucked-up bullshit,” Webb mumbled. He put his arm around Elliot’s shoulders and pulled him close. Elliot nuzzled into Webb’s neck for comfort. Most of Danny was glad Elliot had the other three boys for comfort since he’d never go to Danny anymore. A small immature part of him wanted to toss Webb on the floor and stake his claim, pull Elliot back into his arms where he belonged.

  “So what are we going to do?” Reece asked quietly.

  Elliot shrugged. “Meet Keller on Wednesday morning in our sound room. What other choice is there?”

  “I hate Sasha sometimes,” Tate said.

  He put a brotherly hand on the top of Elliot’s head. Reece cupped his knee. Danny was the only one left who wasn’t touching Elliot. His entire body and soul yearned for it. Reece gave him a sharp look and raised his eyebrows. Danny stood and came behind Elliot. He cupped his hands around slim toned arms and rubbed up and down just like he used to. It felt so right it hurt.

  “We’ll make this right, okay?” Danny said quietly. “We’re gonna figure something out.”

  AS MUCH as they’d all protested it, being back in the studio felt really damn good. For the most part. They came in every morning, sang, rehearsed, laid down vocals. A lot of it felt as if he’d gone back in time to that place where he used to be happy and full of crazy, bright, shiny hope for the future.

  And then there were the parts that didn’t. Like him and Elliot. It was the most they’d been forced together since they got back from the tour, and it was torture. Danny and Elliot smiled and joked with the guys, learned their parts, gave input into lyrics. Danny knew he, for one, wasn’t feeling it. But they deserved Danny and not some bruised, brokenhearted shell. Danny kept that part inside. He also kept hiding how much he wanted to touch Elliot, how much his body still drifted toward Elliot’s like a magnet, how his hands still wanted to seek out flesh and make that essential connection.

  When Danny stood in their corner of the sound booth, he remembered the little surreptitious touches. When he walked by their old make-out closet, it felt like a knife in his gut. They’d waged a very polite and silent battle over the recliner they used to share in the break room. Danny let Elliot win. He didn’t want the damn chair without Elliot sitting in it anyway. It wasn’t about the chair. It was about missing the weight of Elliot’s body on top of his. Danny tried. Elliot tried.

  It almost felt like old times. In the same kind of way relentless slicing knives almost felt like Elliot’s touch. At least they were making music again. It was something to concentrate on other than how much everything hurt.

  “WHADDYA think, Webbinator? Is it intervention time again?” Reece raised his eyebrow at Elliot, who’d been crouched in their old recliner in the studio’s break room.

  He and Danny used to share the recliner, in those early days that felt like they were years ago. He remembered how they’d cuddle up on it, barely an inch of their bodies separated. They’d been like little love pods back then. Elliot knew he’d never be that person again, that innocent kid who had no idea what was coming his way, but he wanted at least some of that back. He just didn’t know how to get it.

  “What do you mean?” Danny asked. “We’ve been fine. We’re not making anything awkward.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Tate snorted. “You’re fine. You two are smiling and laughing and trying really hard to act like nothing is wrong, and you’re doing it for us, aren’t you?”

  “Of course,” Danny said quietly. “We promised.”

  “But you’re not okay, are you? Either of you?” Reece glowered at Danny, then at Elliot. Elliot didn’t know what the other guys wanted them to do. They were both hurting, and things were weird, but they’d been trying not to let it show. Both of them.

  “I don’t know what you want me to say, Reece,” Elliot muttered. “Things aren’t good, but we don’t want it to affect you guys. We’re doing our best.”

  “Yeah, if it’s easier I can bow out. You guys need Elliot. You don’t need me.”

  Elliot’s heart sped up, thunking and pounding in his chest at the thought of Danny disappearing. “Are you crazy? You hold everyone together. I was the last to come, I should be the one to go.”

  Reece rolled his eyes. “Neither one of you dorks are going anywhere.”

  “This intervention isn’t about us,” Webb said. “We’re fine. It’s about you. Look a
t you two sticking up for each other. Can’t you assholes see how in fucking in love you still are? We just want you to be happy. Stop the bullshit.”

  Elliot didn’t bother to protest. It wasn’t like that was a mystery to him. He’d already kind of figured he’d never stop loving Danny, and yes, he was anything but happy. He looked at the scuffed white rubber on his shoes. Didn’t make eye contact with the three pairs of eyes staring his way.

  “Jesus,” Danny finally said. “Of course I still love him. I never wanted this in the first place.”

  “I didn’t either,” Elliot finally said. “Everything just got so complicated with all the pressure and the lying….”

  “So fucking stop,” Reece said with his typical lack of beating around the bush. “Nobody’s saying you have to make an announcement on the news, but let’s just stop.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Tate spoke up. “We’ve been going over the appearance clause on the contract.” He gestured at Webb and Reece. “It doesn’t say either of you has to be dating someone, it only says you can’t be openly dating each other. As long as everyone keeps it as platonic as possible in public, they really can’t touch you. And they can’t force any more fake girlfriends on you.”

  “Are you serious?” Danny asked.

  Tate nodded. “Yeah. Reece and I took it to my lawyer.”

  “But so did I!” Danny protested.

  “And your lawyer told you the clause was iron-clad. You and Elliot had to appear straight and not together, right?”

  “Well, yeah. That’s what it said.”

  “But did it say you’d be forced to date a girl? We looked, D. There is all this complicated language up the wazoo, but as far as specifically stating that you have to have a beard at all times? There isn’t anything. Nothing that we could see.”