Chapter 8
EIGHT
ANDY
What the fuck just happened?
My eye twitches, annoyance heating my skin.
Who the fuck does that asshole think he is talking to me like that about my child? I’m aware it was shitty to let Max go to the vending machine alone, but I’d made sure I could see her. She was in my line of sight most of the time, except for the few seconds I turned away to pour creamer in my cup. That must’ve been when she saw him and wandered off.
It’s impossible to watch your kid 24/7, no matter how much you try.
Two seconds. I looked away for two seconds.
A lot can happen in two seconds.
Leave it to my social butterfly child to find the biggest asshole around and strike up a conversation.
The moment I laid eyes on the tall, dark-haired, tattooed covered man who literally oozes sex from his pores, I knew exactly who he was. But you’ll never get me to admit it.
Especially to him.
I’ll never admit how many nights I’ve cried myself to sleep with his voice flowing through my earphones, as if he were speaking directly to me through his lyrics. Or the fact his songs resonate with me so much that just hearing them gives me chills and is enough to make me choke up.
Declan Valentine writes music that is raw and filled with so much pain. In his lyrics, he’s vulnerable, and just as fucked-up as I am.
I’ll never forget the first time I heard his voice.
I was fourteen, radio playing in the background, crying alone on my bedroom floor, a bottle of sleeping pills in one hand and a vodka-filled water bottle in the other. Black mascara coated tears were streaking down my face, and all I wanted was for my life to end. I was tired of existing. I wanted to disappear. To be free.
I’d just swallowed the pills when the lyrics to his song, “It’s Over Now” filled my ears for the first time.
His smoky, hauntingly beautiful voice rang out, filling the silence of my room and providing me with a comfort I hadn’t known was possible.
The next day, I was a little less pissed at the world when I woke up. I’d slept most of the day away, and once I came to, I spent two days puking my guts out.
Guess that’s what I get.
Attempted suicide. Just another thing that makes me even more fucked-up than I already am.
Then again, all I did was overdose on sleeping pills I’d bought from Walmart because I hadn’t wanted to feel physical pain. So, how hard did I actually try?
Maybe a part of me wasn’t ready to die.
Declan’s music speaks to me. It’s as if his lyrics were written for me. As if we’re the same, and he understands my trauma.
Hearing him makes me feel a little less alone.
Although I love his music, I don’t like him as a person. I’m aware the media is full of shit, but I’ve yet to see one positive thing reported about him.
He’s a manipulative, womanizing player with a drug problem.
And now he’s here… at my hotel.
The first thing I do once I’m behind the desk, safe away from deep brown eyes that caused my heart to skip a beat, is check the name associated with the room I’d seen Declan go into.
The room is registered to Benjamin James.
A quick internet search of the name leads me to finding out that he is the manager for Riot, Declan’s band. The room is booked under his manager’s name.
My shoulders slump a little at that fact.
Obviously, Declan wouldn’t use his name, but part of me wanted to see his name typed out in black and white on the computer screen. That way I know it’s real.
As I’m typing, hoping to find out the reason he’s here, Max comes to stand in the doorway. She knows she’s not allowed to be directly behind the desk. “Mommy, I’m tired.” She rubs her eyes with her small fists, her bottom lip pouty and sticking out.
Locking the screen, I turn away from the computer and turn my attention toward my daughter. “Come on, baby. Let’s get you set up for bed.” I follow her back into the office and begin arranging a space for her to sleep.
I know we can’t go back to my mom’s house, and I hate myself for being willing. Tomorrow, I’ll figure out something else, but for tonight, she’ll be fine.
Taking two office chairs, I position them in front of each other and spread a blanket out and add a pillow. Picking up Max, I place her on the chairs and help her scoot down, holding onto the chairs so they don’t slip away.
Once she’s in a comfortable position, I use her pink blanket that I brought with us and cover her up, tucking her in. I would put her bonnet back on, but her curly hair is already wild and there’s no hope. I’ll have no choice but to wet it to tame it come morning.
“Sweet dreams, baby girl.” Kissing her cheek, I resume playing the show on the computer then flip the office lights off.
“Night, Mommy.” She sighs, her eyelids heavy and fluttering.
Leaving her be, I return to the front desk, just as the phone rings. Remembering I have the cordless phone still on me, I pull it from my pocket and check the screen before answering, chills shooting down my spine at the sight of the room number that’s calling on the screen.
Gulping, I answer the phone. “Front desk.”
That deep voice from earlier fills my ears. “Can I get four pillows?” God, his voice has me acting like a bitch in heat.
I may not like him, but I’m not afraid to admit that his voice is sexy as fuck, and I’ll be thinking about it next time I have enough privacy to stick my hand between my legs.
Clearing my throat before I begin panting into the phone, I quickly agree, telling him I’ll be there soon.
After locking a sleeping Max in the office, I rush to the laundry room to gather four pillows before taking them to room 107.
Holding two pillows under each arm, I hesitate for a moment before kicking my foot against the thick door with a little more force than necessary.
The door swings open, revealing a shirtless Declan standing in the doorway, black briefs sitting low on his hips as if he was in a hurry to put them on and didn’t have enough time to pull them all the way up.
Good fucking lord.
This man radiates sexual energy, and the worst part is he knows it. I’m willing to bet he rarely bothers looking in a mirror, because he’s that attractive and doesn’t need to pick himself apart like I do.
Taken by surprise, my wide eyes shamelessly roam over his bare chest, taking in the defined muscles and tattoos that cover his tan skin. The intricate artwork decorates his neck and continues down both arms, ending at his hands. His tight toned stomach is free from ink, but small doodle like art decorates his chest.
The veins in his arms become prominent when he flexes, his arms hanging by his side while his fists clench and unclench. I knew his hands were inked, but up close, I’m able to make out the letters that are tattooed across his right knuckles in bold black letters.
RIOT.
Slowly, my eyes make their way to his face to find a smirk on his pink lips that tells me he knows damn good and well I was checking him out.
What can I say? It’s been a while since I’ve had any action, and the guys I’ve fucked were never half as attractive as the Declan fucking Valentine.
I’m sure most women would fawn over the fact they met a famous musician, but for me, I couldn’t care less. I can separate the art from the artist.
He wipes the side of his mouth, motioning for me to do the same, and stupidly I fucking do.
Great. Not only had he caught me dazed and ogling him, but he made it known that I was nearly drooling over him.
Asshole.
“So, you work here?” he says, breaking the silence, and just like that, I’m back to reality and the spell is broken.
I look him in the eye when I speak. “No, I’m wearing this uniform and bringing you pillows for fun.” I deadpan, my eyes narrowing into a glare.
“You have a smart fucking mouth. But I’m sure I’m not the first person to tell you that.” He’s not.
One thing I know how to do is run my mouth. It’s something you learn pretty quickly in order to defend yourself when your drugged out mother was constantly bringing around her junkie friends. I’ve always known how to stand up for myself, and I’ve never been afraid to do it. She would never protect me, so I had to learn to protect myself.
Declan steps aside and waves me into the room. “You can put those on the bed.” With a roll of my eyes because clearly, he’s too good to take the pillows, I step inside the room.
I never go inside of a guest’s room. Considering I work the morning shift, if a stay-over guest ever needs anything, I have someone from housekeeping deliver the item. On the rare occasion I’ve had to deliver an extra item to them, I give it to them without ever crossing the threshold.
Yet, here I am, standing inside of Declan’s room, inhaling the clean scent that lingers in the air. The smell is fresh, like a cold winter morning, and something else that I’m unable to make out, but I don’t think it’s his cologne. It’s him.
Declan sticks his head out the door, looking around before he turns his attention on me, letting the door close behind him, “Where’s Max?”
The question takes me by surprise, though I’m sure my face shows it.
He’s asking about my daughter?
For a moment I think about giving him a smart-ass remark, but the look on his face is one that I can only describe as worry, so I settle for the truth.
“She’s sleeping.” Realizing I’m standing in his room with the door closed, still holding the pillows, I jump into action and set them on the king-sized bed then walk to the door.
Declan steps in front of it, his arms crossing over his chest, eyes pinned right at me in a glare. “And you left her alone?”
Oh, hell no.
This fucker will not intimidate me and make me feel like a shitty parent.
Mirroring his stance, I glare right back at him. He may be taller than me and a wall of muscle, but I’m not small by any means. I stand at six-feet tall, and if he wants to get smart, I can take him.
“Somebody requested pillows because the four already in their room weren't enough. Would you prefer I wake her up to bring her with me?”
“I’d prefer you watch your fucking child and don’t leave her alone.” Is he fucking serious right now?
Stepping closer, I raise my finger in his face. “You of all people do not get to tell me how the fuck to parent.” If I thought he was angry before, the look he’s giving me now is downright murderous. I don’t think he’d hurt me, but I still take a step back.
If looks could kill, my time of death would be called right here right now.
Rest In Peace, Andy Harris.
The girl who could never keep her mouth shut.
Behind the anger in his eyes, I see a hint of something soft, and that’s when I realize what I said to him.
Oh, fuck.
He had a child, too.
The name tattooed across his left collarbone stares back at me, showing me how much I fucked up.
Luca.
His son’s name.
I open my mouth to apologize, but before I can get any words out, Declan steps aside, grabs the handle, and yanks the door open so roughly I’m surprised the hinges remain intact.
Way to go, Andy.
“Get the fuck out,” he grits out, his jaw clenched tight.
On the way out, I spot the wrapper of my Snickers bar on his nightstand. Knowing he ate the candy bar I gave him makes my stomach flutter, though I know it shouldn’t. How silly.
Looking up at him, I open my mouth in another attempt to apologize, but he slams the door in my face, and I hear the lock click into place.
Great.
See what happens when you don’t think before you speak?
Back in the office, I pull up a chair and sit beside Max, watching the security cameras in front of me so I can be prepared for a guest if they wander in.
My stomach rumbles, reminding me it’s been a while since I’ve eaten.
Fuck .
I wanted that candy bar, and I gave Max my last two dollars.
My size eighteen waist says I didn’t need it, but damn, I wanted it. I should’ve never given it to Declan, but when I saw him staring me up and down, I knew what he saw when he was looking at me and I was embarrassed.
Not that I’d ever want to be one of his groupies, but it would be nice to pretend that a man like that would ever want a girl like me.
Girls that look like me don’t get guys that look like that.
Fucked up, damaged girls like me, with years of trauma to sort through, don’t end up with a happy ending.