Page 25 of From Us, Forever

Jay spoke into the microphone, his impassive expression giving nothing away. “Dorian White’s charges are his own doing until otherwise proved by the court, and they date back fifteen years. We were only with the label for six.We acknowledge that we were the biggest artist signed to Pacific White, and at hard times like this, doubts and rumors must have clouded the family to take such drastic actions. I send my condolences to them and hope they recover from this loss.”

“Thank you, Mr. Jameson. We notice that Landon Greige is not present here, any reasons that might be?”

This time, Matt spoke before Jay could say anything. “He is unwell at the moment. He sends his regards and apologizes that he couldn’t make it here today.”

“Thank you, Mr. Evans. We understand since all this happened in the spur of the moment. We wish him aspeedy recovery.”

“Thanks, sir,” Matt replied.

“We are closing for the day. We’ll take one more question,” Micah interceded.

“Mr. Jameson, you said that the band will now be focusing on the label. If I’m correct, it’s an initiative to help unsupported artists. Does that mean the band is taking a break from producing their own music?”

A smile spread across Jay’s face. “No, we still intend to make music, and we will produce it ourselves. I hope that fans are excited because we have a lot planned for them. But that’s all I can say for now. I thank you for your time.”

And with that, flashes went across the screen as the boys left the stage.

“Whoa. Life of a celebrity, huh?” Gabe commented, drawing his eyes away from my phone as I switched off the live stream.

“Yeah, it’s all so surreal and bizarre,” I whispered, leaning close to him. “It’s weird how they lace the truth with a few lies. I understand why they do it, but it’s all very new to me.”

“That’s what the media does, Evy. It’s a never-ending loop.”

“Yeah,” I mumbled as we both rose from our seats. Since Jay left early this morning to attend his press conference and I had no work, I decided to help Gabe with his event today.

“Also, what’s this event again?” My eyes dragged over to the bikini-clad women in feather fedoras, a half-filled pool with star-shaped balloons, and an entire table spread with everything green.

“It’s a health event promoting a tea that supposedly makes you ageless.” Gabe rolled his eyes.

I frowned. “Yeah, right. And they want this.” I waved my hand around.What does tea have to do with girls in fedoras?

Gabe raised a hand. “Don’t ask me. I did suggest a few alternatives, but apparently, this is all thenew rage.”

“I think rich people have too much money to think straight.”

Gabe pointed an accusing finger at me. “You’re a rich person now. You own a home, and you’re dating the richest rock star in the country.”

I sighed. “But I still feel like the girl who had to scour three dollars and thirty-five pence to get my favorite honey cake at the grocery store. You do remember her, right?”

A soft look crept over his face as he cupped my cheek. “I do, and I’m proud of the girl she has become today. Love and happiness look good on you, E.”

“I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you,” I whispered, my throat stuck with emotion.

“I know, chica.” He smiled before handing me a packet of shiny balloons. “Here, your job is to blow them while I set up the seating arrangements.”

“Oh, come on.” I followed him as he placed name cards on the tables. “I can’t blow up balloons for the life of me.”

He grinned, sliding me a glance. “At least I hope you can blow other things.”

Heat bloomed onmy cheeks. “Why do all the men in my life have such dirty minds?” I mumbled.

“Maybe you have it too. Give that to me.” He grabbed the pack from my hand. “Yara,” he called out to ayoung girl who was busy fixing the green table.

She looked up and immediately rushed to our side.

“Here.” Gabe handed her the balloons. “Get these done and fill up the rest of the pool.”

“Yes, Gabe.” She nodded before scurrying off, the wisps of her blond hair flying in the dry wind. It was ahot day in NYC, and the sun washigh with clear skies.

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