*Author's Note: As a referrence note to understand the circumstances surrounding this chapter, notions here for clarification purposes, are a direct parallel to those found in Chapter 11 and the beginning of Chapter 13 of A Tale of Two Popstars.*

Well fuck.

His world just seemed to continue plummeting through a downward spiral, totally out of control.

“Repeat that,” he requested, adamant he had to be hearing things.

“It’s only going to be a couple of weeks Ritchie.  It’s not that long.”

Ritchie glared at his publicist, slack-jawed. She had to be kidding him.

“Bullshit,” he scoffed, shaking his head at her words.  “You used that same line last time with LA, and here I am weeks later still having to put up with the same shit Shannon.”  Ritchie leaned his head against the wall agitated.  “I’m not doing it.” 

“Ritchie.”

Shannon’s tone was less than amused.

“I’m being serious Shannon.  I don’t know how much more I can take.  My parents came by for fucks sake.  Do you know how hard I had to play it up for my mom to back off?”

“Do you know what people are going to say if you’re both in London and not in the same house?”  Shannon volleyed back, undeterred by his brusqueness. 

“I don’t give a fuck,” Ritchie bit out indignantly, unrelenting. He was tired of pretending.  He needed a break.  Hell, after the past couple of weeks he deserved one.

“Well as your publicist, I do,” Shannon replied coolly.

“It’s my fucking house!”

“Trust me Ritchie, sharing a house with your wife is the least of your problems, right now,” 

Shannon countered, unfazed by his outburst.  “I don’t need anymore tabloid fodder.  It’s been hard enough to convince the world that you two planned to get married, or that you didn’t have a quickie in Vegas because Aliesa is pregnant.”  She leveled her eyes at him.  “The facts are you’re going back home to record, and for the next couple of weeks Aliesa’s management booked her tour rehearsals there.  And like it or not, you two are married.  And that means you’re living together.”

Ritchie blew out a terse breath, agitated.

“Day One in Las Vegas you knew that you were going to have to compromise your lives,” Shannon steadily reminded him.

“Well I’m sick of doing it,” Ritchie voiced back thickly. 

“Well, you’re not in a position right now not to do this. And I don’t have any excuses to get either one of you out of this. This is completely out of my hands.” 

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t reply. 

“Look Ritchie, I wouldn’t be pushing this unless I thought you needed to,” Shannon reasoned, her voice permeating in the silence between them.  “All I’m asking is for a couple more weeks Ritchie, just until Aliesa goes on tour.” 

“Right,” Ritchie responded impassively.  “Until something else comes up, right?”

“Will you please just give this a chance?  At least try too?” 

Ritchie sighed tiredly.  “You know we’re barely hanging on as it is,” he said quietly.  “Any day now we’re just going to completely fall apart.”

“But you won’t,” Shannon stated firmly. 

Running his fingers through his hair, Ritchie nodded.  “Yeah,” he agreed, clearly frustrated.  “That’d be too easy wouldn’t it?”

“It could be worse Ritchie,” Shannon said ominously.

“Trust me Shannon, it can’t.”  He pushed himself from the wall.

“Ritchie.”

He turned.

“About you and Billie…”

Ritchie tensed at the insinuation.  “There is no me and Billie, Shannon.  Hasn’t been for a while.”

Shannon nodded slowly.  “So I shouldn’t be worried about how you’ve been seen with her?”

“Saw, as in once,” Ritchie corrected briskly.  “I ran into her the other day.  We tend to do that, being in the same business and all.”

Shannon ignored the sarcasm.  “There’s rumors…”

“When has there not been?”

Shannon propped her elbows on the table, hands clasped together.  “That was then, and this is now,” she responded steadily.  “Things are different.  There are no options Ritchie.” 

The statement hung in the air, and Ritchie silently acknowledged the implications that came with it. 

“And like I said, how long do you think we’re going to be able to pull this of for?” he questioned rhetorically, and without another word, exited the doorway.

As far as Ritchie was concerned, that discussion was over.

Totally out of control?  Correction.  His world was completely out of control.

 
Nine
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