“Yeah? She’s pretty great, right?” I give her another appreciative glance from afar.
“Yeah, she’s great. But she’s also your sister,” James says pointedly.
NowIfeel like I’m the one who’s been punched in the gut.
“Woah, James, hang on. She’s not my sister. Her dad married my mom like a million years ago.”
“So she’s your stepsister.”
“Was. Past tense. Our parents were married for barely six months, and it was literally over ten years ago. Another lifetime ago.”
“Semantics,” James says archly.
“Come on, James, she’s not a blood relative. She’s not a relation at all.”
“The gossip rags are saying otherwise,” James says grimly, showing me his phone. I scan the headlines he’s pulled up.
Benjamin Colt Dating His Sister?!
Romantic Songwriting Partner Is Sibling
Benjamin Colt’s Incestual Love
What the hell? I scan the headlines in shock, my stomach sinking.
“They’re saying that your ‘muse’ from your viral song is your sister and that you’re having an incestual relationship.”
“Shit.”
“This is the kind of crap that can ruin a career, Ben.”
I nod, speechless. There’s no point in arguing. James and I both know that once the media has made up their mind about a story, it’s hard to shake it.
“You need to get your story straight about this, Ben. And fast. And make sure Lacy is clued in too. Apparently she talked about your relationship to some blogger who was here earlier. That’s the one who broke the story.”
Ugh,I groan internally, remembering the mysterious girl Lacy was chatting with. That must have been her.
“What should I do?” I turn to James. He’s always guided my career with grace and confidence. I trust him implicitly.
“We’ve got to get on this, fast. You’re already getting hashtag shamed. #IncestRocker. #SiblingFckr. The works.”
“So what’s the play?” I ask, trying to not show my shock at the cruel hashtags.
“Look, I get that your relationship isn’t incestual in any way. And Lacy is fantastic. But the public might find ittootaboo. The news is out now, so we can’t deny it or ignore it. The best thing to do is play it down. If people ask, which they will, confirm you knew each other briefly in childhood, say you lost touch, and now you’ve just picked up your connection again recently. Focus on the creative collaboration when people ask. Don’t talk about the romance.”
“Okay, got it,” I say as I take mental notes. But I’m so stunned, I’m not fully registering James’s words. I never considered the fact that the world would think my and Lacy’s liaison wastaboo. And I certainly never expected my relationship to potentially threaten my career. But James doesn’t mince words as he reminds me:
“This kind of gossip can ruin you, Ben. You’ve worked too hard to get where you are. Don’t let a girl fuck it up now. Even a girl as great as Lacy.”
Chapter Fifteen
Lacy
WatchingBenhandlethemedia in action was amazing. With his pointers, I’m feeling more confident in my own media skills. Seeing him tackle tough questions and keep his cool, even when people were asking borderline rude or personal things was pretty impressive. I have to admit, I’m pleasantly surprised. I guess a part of me was still thinking of Ben as this rebellious teenager, the guy who would smoke cigarettes in our parents’ house. But seeing him graciously handle one sticky situation after the next with the media made it clear to me that he’d matured. And it was sexy as hell. After the press junket, I’d been ready to take Ben home and rip his clothes off, but he’d been weirdly evasive. He’d said he had to take care of some urgent business with James—so I was left to my own devices for the day. By the time Ben came home, late, I was already asleep.
Now, I’m getting ready to put all the tips I learned yesterday into practice. I’ve got my own interview to do with a small indie music magazine. Ben helped me line it up yesterday, hooking me up with the journalist and assuring me that it would be an easy starter interview. Best of all, he’ll be joining me. We’re doing the interview together—and we’re on our way over to do it now.
“So, remind me what publication this is?” I ask as I sip my to-go coffee in the backseat of the large black car that’s driving us to the magazine’s offices.