Chapter Twenty-Six-1

It didn't take long for Matt to fall asleep once he singlehandedly ingested the entire minibar without so much as stopping for air. He knocked back beer after beer before starting on the whisky, which was when the drunken idiot finally clued me in on all that had happened. An innocent catch up over coffee had seen him alone in Yazmin's room for all of ten minutes before things took a turn for the worst. Or the better...depending on how you look at it? "You gonna get your shit together and shower?" I asked, poking his limp body with a flick of my finger. "You look like death." "Well, aren't you a breath of fucking fresh air in the morning." Came his reply, lacking its usual oomph, though certainly not its sarcasm. I shot him a stern glance and got to clearing away the many bottles scattered around the room, ignoring his persistent moans. He smelled like the bad end of a brewery and resembled that of a man hell bent on ruining his liver. "Just sayin it as it is. You can't face her looking like that." Matt huffed his response and took off in the direction of the shower, having taken my advice to clean himself up. He stripped most of his clothing along the way and purposely dumped his dirty boxers on my pillow. Cheeky fucker! Moments later, a knock sounded on my door and upon answering it, I was welcomed by the glorious sight of Rosie and the not-so-glorious sight of Yazmin. "Fucking hell, Yaz! You look rough." "Thanks!" she snapped, pushing past my tall frame to access the front room. "Is he here?" "Shower. You could join him if you like?" I suggested, earning myself a gentle tap to the upper arm. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," whispered Rosie, slyly smirking. "She's in a bad mood this morning." "So is Matt," I quipped, wishing the two would come to terms with their feelings. Lord knows, it's gone on long enough. "He's left us a deposit on our bed," I continued, pointing in the direction of his carefully placed underwear. "That's new. Usually its chocolates on the pillow." Rosie stifled a giggle and shoved her face in my chest, desperate to hide her untimely amusement. It was inappropriate to laugh at the expense of our two friends but if the stubborn pair would only sit down and hash out their feelings, maybe they'd save themselves a lot of agro. "Do you have a phone charger I can borrow?" interrupted Yazmin, unbothered by our tight embrace. "My phone died last night." "Sure," smiled Rosie, always quick to lend a hand. "It's in my bag. Let me grab it." Finding her absence unsettling, I followed both women into the bedroom and ignored the harmonic sound of Matt singing in the shower. His voice was hauntingly low and proved great in conjunction with my own. I suggested doing a duet for our latest album but the tenacious man had insisted he remain firmly in backing vocals, too afraid to step out of his comfort zone. Stupid man! If only he'd try something new, maybe he'd find himself on the receiving end of extreme happiness for once. "Here." Rosie handed Yazmin her charger and went on to check her own phone, the wary expression that soon followed proving utterly disturbing. Sour faced and white as a sheet, she looked truly horrified to be seeing whatever was showing up on her phone screen "Rosie?" "I have seventeen missed calls from Zoe," she revealed, instantly hitting the 'return call' option. I flew to her side in a second and took her chin in my hands, nervously awaiting Zoe's response. It wasn't normal to call someone seventeen times in a row and the knotted feeling in my gut told me something wasn't right. "Damn it! She's not picking up. What if it's Ben, Will? What if he's hurt?" "I'm sure Ben is fine, sweetheart. Just keep trying her," I encouraged, noticing the absence of Matt's effortless tone. He emerged from the doorway moments later and stared worryingly across to Yazmin; her own ghostly white expression taking form. Never before had I seen the woman so overcome with concern and such a thing could only mean one thing. Trouble. "I'm gonna need you guys to not freak the fuck out..." "Why?" I asked, battling with the sudden wave of nausea tearing through my body. I attempted to uncover exactly what it was that was getting her so worked up but found her revelation stopped me before I could move. "You've made headlines back at home. There's pictures of you two kissing in every newspaper." Fuck! "How the shitting hell did that happen?" I bellowed, ripping the phone from her hands. An onslaught of loving images filled the screen, accompanied by the most demeaning text imaginable. It was disturbing to see such a fulfilling moment turn to ash with disgusting accusations and worst yet, not one article painted our relationship in a positive light. ROCK STAR ABUSES THE EMOTIONALLY VUNRABLE. WILL O'CONNOR: SLEEPING WITH THE ENEMY. And my personal favourite. ROCK STAR ROCKS THE BOAT BY DATING DAUGHTER OF THE MAN HE KILLED. "Fucking hell!" I roared, prying my hair out. "I thought you said no press would be here." "I'm a publicist, Will. Not a fucking magician" she argued, rightly putting me in my place. "Maybe you should've been more discreet." "And maybe you should've done your job properly!" The second the words were out, I shut my mouth and metaphorically backtracked, ashamed of my outburst. Yazmin was damn good at her job and didn't deserve the title of anything less. I was being a dick. "Whoa, Will. What the fuck?" demanded Matt, stepping in to defuse the situation. "Don't speak to her like that." The gentle touch of Rosie's fingers wrapping around my bicep brought me back to my senses, keen to right my wrongs. "Shit, I know. Sorry, Yazmin. I'm being a fucking arse."