Trust (London Love #5)

It wasn’t like there was a Blitz union. No well-being coordinators around to ensure we were still alive. When Bash and Josh had still been underage, we’d had them everywhere. Then there had been that woman who was supposed to keep an eye on Lee. Chaperones and on-the-road tutors still followed us around because it was part of the image—the incredibly weird bio on our website still referred to us as a teen pop sensation. I hadn’t actually looked at it for years.

Once he’d realised how deep in the shit we were, Musa’s lawyer uncle-friend-cousin was so livid even Musa had been scared of what he was going to do.

I had been rattled to the bone. Having no control over my life had been bad enough when I’d believed we were in capable hands. It’s being taken care of, Lauren kept telling us as we trooped out on stage night after night or wound up an eighteen-hour day in the studio or those bigwig managers in their suits turned up to parade us around, making us shake hands with Important People who wanted pictures and autographs. I hadn’t cared. As long as I could pay my bills and my accounts looked healthy, I’d done as I was told, and I’d trusted we had some kind of long-term investment set up to ensure we didn’t blow it all and would have funds for the future, when this was over.

That time had come, not only because I wanted out but because now I was also terrified there would be nothing left.

At all.

I got up. Dressed in an odd mix of my designer jeans and Reuben’s well-worn hoodie. I wanted something from him with me today. We were treading on new ground here and everything felt unstable.

Plans.

All kinds of plans.

Sunglasses on, I sat in the back of a car that was far too big for just me and my trusty rucksack, which was emptier than usual. I wouldn’t need much today, but I’d brought a piece of fruit from the plastic bowl Stewart filled every week and then emptied into the compost since none of us knew how to put vitamins in our bodies.

I’d promised him I’d try. Hence the apple.

It made me smile. All this smiling was good for me. Made everything feel lighter.

I opened my phone and tapped out a quick off-the-wall lyric. Sent it to Josh, who sent me a swift thumbs up.

Got a beat for that. Keep going.

Keep going. Yes, we had to. None of us could quit now.

Love, and all those other shitty feelings. Like hurt, so good it makes me want it. Shoot right at my heart, because like you, I need it.

I kept going. I wanted to fight, like Josh had suggested. Kind, quiet Josh, who had mates at a production company. They’d been on at him for years to let them do some kind of exposure on Blitz. Management would’ve put us in straitjackets if they’d ever got wind of it.

Love. Stop going. Start fighting.

Love. It was there. In my head. I just didn’t know what to do with it. I’d never been in love. Not for real. Never experienced anything like the messed-up feelings I got every time I tapped out a message to Reuben, the one person who saw past The Dieter. Saw the real me.

I’m stripping off my armour for you.

Reuben. With his messy hair and big smile and an even bigger heart. Kindness oozing out of his pores. Drowning me in something I couldn’t explain. I couldn’t even properly describe it in lyrics. How he made me feel.

Drowning. Treading water when there’s nothing but you.

We were all doomed. Especially me.

The studio was a hive of activity, nothing to do with Blitz. We weren’t done recording, but the second I walked in, Lauren brusquely grabbed my arm and pushed me towards the lift.

“Up, meeting. Now,” she said, jabbing her highly manicured finger into the lift button.

I did as I was told, same as always, and even managed not to punch anything as I took my seat next to Cork. Bash sat to his left; Josh, Musa and Lee were on the other side of the table; Kieran Williams from the management company had the top seat. Cork was white and drawn, his hands shaking under the table. The others were silent and stony-faced.

What the hell? I stood up, about to demand to know what was going on, but Josh discreetly shook his head. My phone vibrated.

Sit down and shut up.

I sat, looked up and met Musa’s warning gaze.

“So, boys.”

That was Kieran Williams. I couldn’t remember what his official title was. Blitz Industries wank-waffle or something.