Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 138287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
When her handle lit up on screen, I blinked at it a moment.
BeckySpillsTheTea.
Oh, geez. She was a drama channel.
Of course, she was. Why wouldn’t she be?
I had the insane urge to laugh.
“Okay. Theory time.” Becky looked way too pleased with herself. “As you all know, Left Turn toured not long ago and all seemed to be going well. Concert after concert was sold out. Not even I could get tickets, guys,” she said as if she held some kind of pull in the music industry. Her sense of self-importance and inflation was very Becky, indeed. Just as I remembered her. “Connor Clash was on his best behavior or so it looked. There were really no incidents to report. It was all very cut and dry.” Her brows rose. “Until it wasn’t.”
“Two days before the tour ends, Connor drops a song completely solo.” Oh, God, she had a timeline. “This is when things start to sour for the band. ‘Virgin Tears’ is released and anyone at the two remaining shows will tell you, the tension between the band was so thick you could slice through it with a knife.” Oh, God, she had an accurate timeline. “So, what happened? How did it get to this? And who the ever-loving hell was this Emmy mentioned in ‘Virgin Tears’? Everyone wanted to know.”
My ears burned. I thought I was going to have a heart attack. “Connor.”
He didn’t say a word, just squeezed my hand.
Becky told more of her story. “After tour, shit goes down. The band doesn’t talk to Connor for a while, he turns to drugs again, and then that bizarre interview surfaces where Connor is clearly high A.F.” It was my turn to squeeze Connor’s hand in support. “Connor’s got it bad. He’s in love. He’s apparently lost her. Again, we hear the name Emmy. And the world asks ‘Who the eff is Emmy?’. We still don’t know.”
“Connor goes to rehab. We don’t see him for a while. Months pass and when Connor is clean, Left Turn announce they’re recording a new album. All seems to be well in the rock world. Or is it?” She pauses for affect. “Let’s go back a couple of months. In come The Ultra Violet Vixens, who we all know opened for Left Turn during their recent tour. They were pretty much nobodies before this,” Becky announces with disdain, “but Left Turn gave them a shot and made them what they are.”
“Hey, that’s not true,” I argued. With a phone.
“So UVV gets some traction, records start to sell and we begin to see more of them. They’re everywhere. Everyone wants a bite of the new, shiny apple that is The Vixens. Before long, it’s reported that there’s a fifth member of the group and she looks just like them. Sort of. Where The Vixens are all leather and big hair, this new one wears tight latex and says nothing.” Becky rolls her eyes. “As in, nothing. She’s a statue. She doesn’t even smile. UVV then announces this tagalong is not a member at all. She’s the new manager, The Violet Dame, they call her and she starts off by pulling her band out of a bad interview, which,” Becky reluctantly admits, “was a good move on her part because anyone who’s seen the interview? Ugh. Yikes. Sexist much?”
“Time goes by and Connor Clash, our beloved rock star, starts to post about The Violet Dame. On the daily.” Becky actually sounds jealous. “I mean, what is it about this woman? No one knows who she is but somehow Connor seems to know her, as in know her, and we’re all like, how?” She shakes her head and her eyes widen. “We basically watch Connor profess his love to The Violet Dame and some of us are thinking, ‘Wow, that was fast. Didn’t he just love someone else a minute ago?’ Someone named Emmy?” She dragged out my name.
I knew where this was going but when was she actually going to get there?
This was taking forever.
“Next thing you know, Connor and The Dame are a thing. In one InstaFotto post, he even refers to her as his wife. Now, this was never confirmed until very recently. But the question remains, where and when did they get married? We’ll get back to that in a moment.”
Oh, crap. My ears rang. I was going to be sick.
I had a feeling Becky Amour knew more than she was letting on.
“Before I go on with this theory, I have someone I want to introduce to you. Now, this is a world first. I want it to be acknowledged that I, Becky Amour, have done all the detective work and found an answer. I present to you, The Violet Dame.” She held up the Marshall High yearbook and let the camera focus on my photo. “Emily Aldrich.”