Chapter 11
I had no clue what Paul looked like. We’d only spoken on the phone three times: once when he called to offer me a job, another when I called to accept, and the final time to make arrangements for me to fly out and join the band when they were in Miami.
In spite of that, I knew exactly who he was when I stepped into the hotel lobby.
He was sitting on one of the many lounging couches and speaking animatedly on the phone.
His hair was a deep red, and he was wearing a lime-green shirt that, amazingly, managed not to clash.
It was the way he was smiling and waving his free hand that identified him; somehow his mannerisms perfectly matched the voice I remembered from our conversations.
As I approached, he must have recognized me too, because his eyes lit up and he snapped his phone shut. “Stella, darling,” he exclaimed, rising from his seat to greet me. “It’s so nice to finally meet you.”
“You too.” I set down my suitcase. “I’m excited to be here.”
“Wonderful, wonderful,” he said, clapping his hands together. “We have loads to talk about, but I bet you’re starving after your flight. Why don’t we sit down and have something to eat?” Paul gestured in the direction of the hotel restaurant.
I’d been too nervous to eat breakfast, and the complimentary peanuts on the plane were stale and crumbly, so I’d thrown them out even though I was hungry. Now my stomach was protesting the neglect. “That’d be great.”
We were seated quickly, and after looking over the menu, I decided on breakfast for dinner.
I ordered a plate of Southwest scrambled eggs, bacon, wheat toast, and a large glass of orange juice, while Paul went with chicken dumpling soup.
I was starting on my last triangle of toast when he pushed his bowl away and pulled a folder out of his briefcase.
My name was written across the top in bold letters.
“Let’s see,” he said, mumbling to himself.
Inside was a collection of papers. Paul emailed me the information a few days earlier, but he went over it again to make sure everything made sense.
First, he detailed my job responsibilities and what was expected of me.
Then he explained my pay. Not only would I received a salary, but Paul would purchase each picture I used on the blog.
When I first saw the number in his email I thought it was a mistake, but here it was again and I tried not to gawk—I could pay my way through college if I continued to work for the band.
There were pages of paperwork to read through and dotted lines to sign. By the time we finished, it was nearly nine, and I could hardly keep my eyes open. It had been a long day.
“Sorry to keep you so long,” Paul said, shuffling everything together and stuffing it back inside the folder. “But now that all the boring stuff is out of the way, you can focus on the fun part. Are you excited about tomorrow?”
“I’m a bit nervous actually,” I admitted.
It wasn’t an official work day, but Paul had arranged for me to shadow the band.
He wanted me to get a sense of what a typical day on tour was like.
I didn’t even have to take pictures if I didn’t want to.
All that was required was for me to show up on time and go along for the ride. Even so, my stomach wouldn’t settle.
Yes, I’d decided to accept the job, but I was still nervous about starting something new without Cara and Drew. On top of that, there was Oliver. Would things be weird between us? The thought of seeing him in the morning made the food I’d just eaten slosh around in my stomach.
“Don’t worry,” Paul told me. “Knowing the boys, they’ll make you feel right at home.”
I didn’t find this very reassuring—one of those boys was the reason why I felt nervous. Not sure how to respond, I smiled and agreed. “I don’t doubt it.”
After that, Paul provided me with the information I needed to check in to the hotel.
Twenty minutes later, I was unlocking the door to my room.
Flipping on the lights, I dropped my suitcase and kicked off my shoes with a sigh.
My feet ached and I was beyond exhausted, but I wanted to be prepared for the morning, so despite the fact that the gigantic king bed was calling my name, I forced myself to take a quick shower, set out my clothes, and—even though I didn’t need it—pack my camera bag.
I wasn’t going anywhere without it. Only then did I set my alarm and climb under the covers.
Every muscle in my body ached from a long day of travel, and I’d thought I would drift off instantly. Instead, I stared at the ceiling. Alone and without any distractions, my mind wouldn’t stop thinking, spinning, fearing, because tomorrow I would see Oliver again.
We’d left off on a beautiful note.
In Chicago, when our paths crossed, I’d spent one exciting night with Oliver.
It had been dazzling and so completely unexpected that it made me see stars.
Then we parted ways, like I always knew we would, and in the morning the stars cleared from my vision.
I was a little sad at first, especially when I wondered what things would’ve been like if Oliver was a regular guy and we’d met under different circumstances, but I wasn’t going to be unrealistic.
We both had our own lives to live, which were on two completely different paths.
I didn’t know if I’d upset him by not calling, but I had to do what was best for me.
Now, by some seriously comical twist of fate, my path had moved in his direction again.
Our lives were suddenly intertwined, at least for the next two months, and I had no idea what to expect.
Would things be like before, or had our time together only been exciting because we’d thought it was limited?
Either way, I was about to find out.
***
I was exactly two minutes early. Paul had told me to meet the band at six o’clock, and as I stepped off the elevator, my phone flashed “five fifty-eight.” My aim was to arrive ten minutes early since it was my first day, but I’d ended up changing twice when I had an outfit crisis.
Anyone who was sane was still sleeping, so the lobby was relatively empty.
To be precise, three other people were present—the front-desk receptionist who was typing something into the computer, a janitor emptying the garbage, and a woman who was reading on the couch where I’d met with Paul last night.
None of the Heartbreakers or their employees were present, and my empty stomach rolled.
I knew it was just nerves, but part of me worried that I’d somehow messed up the time and the band was already gone.
I checked my phone again—now it was six.
Get some caffeine and chill out, I told myself and headed toward the continental breakfast. They’re probably just running late.
As I stepped inside the small sunroom connected to the lobby, I twisted my nose stud between my fingers and took deep breaths.
On the far wall was a service station with pastries, cereal, hard-boiled eggs, and a basket of assorted fruit.
Ignoring the food, I went straight for the coffee machine.
I was so focused on pouring my drink that I didn’t notice who was sitting at one of the tables behind me.
When I turned back around, I nearly dropped my coffee.
He was reading something out of a magazine, and whatever it was put a scowl on his face.
Next to him were a plate with an untouched glazed doughnut and a to-go cup with a tea bag dangling over the side.
His wavy brown hair was messier than I’d last seen it, like he hadn’t bothered to brush it when he got up, and there were circles under his eyes.
“Oliv—” My voice cracked, so I cleared my throat and tried again. “Oliver.”
His head popped up. He blinked at me a few times, his mouth parting slightly, almost as if he wasn’t quite sure what he was seeing. After three long seconds, he scrambled to his feet.
“Stella, hey!”
“Hi yourself,” I said and offered him a tentative smile.
He smiled too and slid his dog tag back and forth on its chain. “It’s good to see you.” Then, before I knew what was happening, he wrapped his arms around me. It was the world’s quickest hug, but it still made me grin.
“Yeah,” I said, hiding the small smile with my hand. “You too.”
Before either of us could think of something else to say, someone shouted my name—or at least a very strange version of my name.
“Stella Ella Bella Bear!” JJ called out. I easily spotted him across the empty room, waving his hands as he tried to catch my attention. “You’re finally here!”
Xander stood next to him, his red-blond hair matted in the back—a style my brother called “pillow syndrome.” He yawned and removed his glasses to rub his eyes.
“Hey, guys,” I said, and when JJ reached me, he pulled me into a hug that lifted me clear off the ground. I couldn’t help but laugh. His friendly welcome helped ease some of the nerves that were making me jumpy.
“Like the nickname I’ve been working on?” JJ asked. “Now that you’re an honorary member of the band, I thought you needed one.”
“Um, it’s a little long,” I told him.
“I thought that might be a problem,” JJ said and shook his head like he knew better. “All right, just Bear then.”
“Since when do we have nicknames?” Oliver asked before I could tell JJ I preferred that he call me Stella. The only people who had pet names for me were Cara and Drew, and I didn’t want to get homesick already.
“Since always,” JJ said, smirking at Oliver.
“How come I don’t have one?”
“Oh, you have plenty. Tubsy Malone and Asshat are my personal favorites, but there’s Turd Burger, Douchenozzle, and Butt Nugget,” JJ said. Xander’s shoulders shook as he tried not to laugh.