Page 109 of Crimson Desires

They shook everyone’s hand—including Ava’s. They assured us that while they were planning to ask me about my recent media backlash, they were only doing so with the intention of giving me an opportunity to defend myself.

I wasn’t typically nervous during interviews, but this time was different. As a teen pop star, my image and relationship with the public had been tightly controlled by my management team. As such, before pivoting into my new career with Wicked Crimson, I’d never been the topic of media controversy.

Doing damage control was new to me. I didn’t want to fuck it up with my dumb mouth.

One of the hosts, a guy named Paul, leaned forward. He tapped his hand on the table to get my attention.

“So, Jack, about this incident with Killing Kiss’s lead guitarist...”

I turned to Ava. She nodded at me to speak.

Putting on a smile, I said, “It’s a complicated situation, honestly. And in a lot of ways, it’s not my, or Arnold’s, story to tell. Here’s what I will say. I did punch Killing Kiss’s lead guitarist. I did it to protect one of my employees.”

“Will we be getting the employee’s word on the matter?” Paul asked.

“We’ve talked to her, yeah. She’s planning to make an official statement soon on everything that happened.”

“Does Wicked Crimson have bad blood with Killing Kiss?”

“We are not going to be collaborating with them further—but no. There is no bad blood. There’s no anger—especially not toward the lead singer or drummer, who played no part in this,” I said. Ava gave me an approving nod.

“If you could say anything to Arnold right now, what would it be?”

“I have nothing to say to him publicly that I haven’t already said privately. All that matters to me is the safety and health of the people on my team.” I swallowed, furrowing my brow as I contemplated my next words. “I wasn’t always so kind to the people that worked for me or the people that worked with me. I’ll be the first to take responsibility for that. But I’ve learned over the course of this tour that even though it’s me and the guys up on stage every night—the people who really bring the show together are the hardworking crew members making sure that everything is going smoothly behind the scenes. From our merch specialists to our sound and lighting engineers, to our amazing tour manager, Ava.”

I continued. “I know the question was about what I would say to Arnold. But instead of doing that, I’d like to take this last minute of our interview to instead thank my amazing production crew for all the hard work and effort they put in to make our shows possible. Seriously, from the bottom of my heart, guys. Thank you.”

***

As soon as I stepped out of the shower, I knew something was wrong.

I had just finished cleaning up after our Detroit show—and I was planning to hit up the crew bus to see Aster before we took off for our last show in Cleveland.

I’d wanted to talk to her when we’d returned from our interview with The Wish, but the guys and I had been summoned to do sound checks instead. After we’d finished sound check, there was only about an hour before the show—and so we’d been forced to head straight back to the green room.

The show itself had gone fine. Not amazing, but not bad, either.

I hoped that our final show in Cleveland would be better. I wanted to end our tour with a bang.

I wrapped my bath towel tighter around my hips, trying to decipher the somewhat troubled look on Kane’s face.

“Something wrong?” I asked.

Kane sucked in a breath. “Ava texted me. She wants to talk to you. Get your clothes on and meet her outside the crew bus.”

“Why? What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Kane admitted. “But I think it has something to do with Aster.”

I’ve never put clothes on so quickly. I jumped into a pair of sweatpants and a tank top and raced out of the tour bus to find Ava.

A million nervous thoughts ran through my brain. Was there something wrong with Aster? Was she hurt? Sick? Did this have to do with Arnold somehow? I didn’t know—but the instinctual feeling in my gut warned me to steel myself for the worst.

When I found Ava, she was standing on the far side of the crew bus. She looked frazzled—more frazzled than usual.

“Ava, what-,”

As usual, she cut to the chase. “Listen to this, Jack.” She held up her phone, which was opened to her voicemail app. She clicked on her most recent voicemail and activated speakerphone so that I could hear it.

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