Isabelle Reid's Train Wreck

Chapter Three

As I was ushered to the waiting car, I refused to give in to the exhaustion I felt. Rudolpho was in the car waiting for me. "You looked absolutely striking in those photos," he remarked. "Though, you looked anything but happy. It's a good thing they wanted to see a darker side of you. Is everything all right?"

I stared out the windows, flashes going off all around us as the car slowly pulled away from the studio and the nearby paparazzi. "I'm just tired."

"Where's Cameron?" Rudolpho asked. "She never leaves me alone with you. She's afraid you'll get rid of her for me."

"I just might," I said. "She's sick. I was mean to her earlier."

"Oh?" Rudolpho asked curiously. "You know I love gossip."

I smiled faintly. "I know." I sighed. "Another time. Do I have time to stop at the hotel or do we have to go straight to the venue?"

Rudolpho squeezed my hand. "To the venue."
I took the glass of wine he offered me. "To the venue," I repeated.

Once at Madison Square Garden, I followed Rudolpho backstage to my private dressing room. I started the process of getting ready for the night. It wasn't long before my stylist Lana and my manager Karl stopped by. Of course their visit wasn't one of encouragement but to offer advice and comments about my attire for the night.

"No, no. Something sexier," Lana said, dismissing the outfit I was currently wearing. "Your outfits are just so boring anymore. We need to wow the audience." She looked at the rack behind her, handing me something new to put on.

Karl agreed, as always. "Where is that boyfriend of yours?" he asked wearily.

I disappeared behind the dressing curtain, slipping into the short, tight silk black shorts Lana had given me. All the clothes she ever gave me were tight and short.

"He's probably with the rest of the band, hanging out before the show with whoever came to see us."

Karl cleared his throat. "Yes, well, rumors have begun to surface regarding you two. People are starting to talk about his wandering ways."

I put on the sleeveless V-neck black shirt; the Clash's London Calling decorated the front of it. "I'm surprised they are just now beginning to talk," I replied with a yawn.

"Stars don't get tired," Karl snapped back. "And sexy superstars do not lose their fiancés to groupies. We have to end this now. I want to see more pictures of the two of you together. At least get to work on the wedding. If the press has details about that coming in, they'll be distracted. Go dress shopping. Figure out where you want to have this thing. We have to save this relationship."

"I don't want to get married right now," I said in horror as I reappeared from behind the dressing screen.

Lana rolled her eyes. I stepped into the black knee high boots and she zipped them up. "It's not a big deal. I've already been married four times."

Karl lifted my head up to face him. "You're a very gorgeous woman, Isabelle. Your band is amazing. But do you think they'll still be falling at your feet if they knew the fairytale behind the songs was a lie?" He looked at Lana and she nodded to him. "The new album is set to release the end of June. I want a wedding around that time."

I paled, stepping backwards. "What?"

"This is your fourth studio release. The third did well, but not nearly like either the first or second. That passion you two had isn't felt. With a wedding, sales'll go through the roof!"