The Dirty Truths.
That was it. No author note. No date. No indication who this site belonged to, and if Big Noise couldn’t figure anything out, then they were good at covering their tracks.
Scrolling along, I came to the most recent headline.
Bellerose goes into hiding. Their addictions hit a new high.
The article under that went into detail about how we’d been living a life of depravity the past two months, but Big Noise had ferried us into hiding in an attempt to sober us up and save our reputation while we worked on the next album.
It was nothing groundbreaking, but there was enough truth in this article for me to know they had some sort of insider feeding them information. We were used to it, from friends to those at Big Noise and even family. Almost everybody had a price, and loyalty was a rare commodity, especially in our world.
Rhett snorted tiredly. “Same old bullshit.”
“Keep reading,” Brenda pushed.
Billie Bellerose has gained plenty of pounds since leaving the band in disarray, looking festively plump ahead of Thanksgiving.
That article was a typical cunt move of the media, implying that Billie was overweight. Billie might be a lot of things, but her curves were lush and she was hot as fuck. I mean, only if you were into disloyal, backstabbing, untrustworthy chicks.
Rhett made a rumbling sound beside me, and I quickly scrolled past the article with its blurry Billie and Angelo pic–my own rage was buried under my loathing, which made it easier to move onto the third. Its heading was a little more personal.
Billie Bellerose sends the band named after her into a spiral.
This article had a lot of personal information about all our past relationships with Billie… and many intimate details about the brief romances between her, Rhett, and Grayson.
“What the fuck,” Rhett growled, leaning forward, some of that fatigue fading from his face. The only reason he was up this early was he never went to sleep. Wasn’t sure he’d slept more than a few hours a night since Billie left, even with his concoctions of pharmaceuticals and drugs. “How could they possibly know any of this? I mean, we didn’t parade Billie around. We never even mentioned her name, but they know everything.”
Brenda nodded as she pursed her lips. “Right, these fuckers have someone on the inside, but I have no idea who it is. They’re stirring shit up hard and fast, and it’s probably a good idea to let Billie know that she could be targeted by the paps if she heads out in public. Now that they know she’s the Bellerose from your band name, life is never going to be the same for her again.”
A snort escaped Rhett. “What she deserves.”
He wouldn’t get an argument from me. “So, this is the real reason behind this secluded fucking prison instead of the Big Noise content house,” I said with a sigh. “You don’t want any of our sessions leaking early.”
Brenda shot me her Grinchiest smile. “Aw, Jace, look at you putting two and two together and getting the correct answer.” I flipped her off, and that smile grew. “But yes, if we have a leak, then we’re back to not trusting anyone again. Tom would have been keeping Big Noise updated on what you were doing on tour, so this could still be coming from him, but either way, it’s not in our best interests to have you in a house strewn with Big Noise surveillance.”
“And you let me believe you were placating my need for privacy,” Grayson drawled as he entered the room.
She shrugged. “There’s a reason I’m the best in the business. It’s all about learning how to manage you little assholes without you realizing that’s what I’m doing. It’s a specific skillset I possess and put to daily use.”
Gray just smiled, before dropping a kiss on her cheek. “I’m aware of what you do, but I appreciate it all the same.”
He took a seat on the couch across from us, and I leaned over and handed him the phone, while Brenda caught him up on the site. There were dozens of articles on the simply designed page, all of them quite accurately depicting our recent dramas.
Gray read through quietly, expression unchanging. The bastard rarely let anything slip unless he wanted to, including his blind reaction to fucked up news—one of his many skills I envied, since I’d been told often that my emotions were clear across my face.
There had really been no other path in life for me other than a musician, bleeding into my lyrics every night for thousands of Bellerose fans. Rhett was similar, needing the creative outlet for his fucked up, broken soul. Not to mention the adoration that filled holes inside us we’d rather not examine. Gray, on the other hand, could have done anything. He’d easily wander through dozens of careers and excel in each and every single one. Nothing ever touched him soul deep.
Well, except maybe one golden-haired bitch, who clearly didn’t deserve one fucking second of our time and emotional energy.
“This isn’t the first mole within our team, and it won’t be the last,” Brenda said, reminding us that most humans were pieces of shit. “Let’s just focus on getting this album made, and when it releases, no one will care about the drama of your past tour.”
I had my doubts, but we did need to make the album, and soon. We were pushing our contractual obligations as it was, and if we wanted to break ties with Big Noise, we needed to finish up this shit first.
When Gray handed the phone back to Brenda, it rang almost immediately, and she groaned. “Okay, I need to take this. They’re giving us updates on the Sunrise merger. I’ll leave you all to it; food is already prepared and ready for the week in the fridge and pantry, and I expect some updates soon.”
We’d heard the rumors of a corporate merger, but since we were all ready to fuck off from this label, we honestly didn’t care what other asshole had bought out the parent company. Time to focus on what was important.
Rhett’s eyes were narrowed to slits as he leaned forward. “Bring us weed at minimum,” he reminded her. “We cannot be creative like this.”
“I can,” Grayson said with a smirk. Sanctimonious motherfucker.
Rhett didn’t even bother to look his way, but his expression did soften as he pleaded with Brenda. “It’s just weed. It’s not even fucking illegal here. I have to get some sleep, or I’ll be less than useless.”
She stepped closer and brushed a hand across his shoulder before giving his arm a squeeze. “If you deliver on some initial track ideas and sounds for the album, then I promise to bring some top quality weed for you. It’s a give-give relationship, but you have to give first.”
Rhett shook her hand off, but Brenda wasn’t offended as she let out a small laugh. “Thanks for understanding.”
If looks could kill… or at least maim, then she’d be in trouble, but before Rhett let loose with any of the vitriol that was no doubt percolating around his head, she left the room, waving over her shoulder as she went. “See you tomorrow.”
None of us spoke until the front door slammed shut and the automatic locking system clicked into place. We weren’t literal prisoners—we could unlock the house at any time—but with literal wilderness around us, there was no fucking reason to leave, which was the supposed point of us being here, along with keeping The Dirty Truths light on updates.
“What if Florence is the mole,” Rhett said suddenly, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees as he looked between Gray and me. “I mean, it’s not like that bitch hasn’t sold us out already this year, even if it was for that piece-of-shit boyfriend. She has no money, apparently, so what’s to stop her from doing it again for the right paycheck?”