Chapter 25
PIA
It doesn’t happen often, but a loud noise wakes me up.
The thumping is clearly decipherable as a fist banging on wood, but it’s impossible for my ears to hear the exact words being barked through the hotel room door. Whatever they are, they’re apparently very urgent.
But not urgent enough to stop me reaching for Cassie before I do anything else. She’s right there next to me, her face pressed against my shoulder, and she’s stirring awake too.
Thump, thump, thump. More banging. More shouting.
“What’s going on?” Cassie says, rubbing at her eyes in a way I wish I had more time to commit to memory.
“Who fucking knows,” I say, and with great reluctance, I slip out of the covers. “Stay here. I’ll go find out.”
I grab a dressing gown from the bathroom on my way to the door, and as I get closer, I can now determine that it’s Martin shouting outside my door, yelling my name. And there’s also someone else, calling Cassie’s.
Oh, shit.
I open the door to a pair of very frazzled men.
Martin is in a robe that matches mine, although it’s come undone and I can see a full chest of hair, which I did not expect.
And Kevin is standing next to him in plaid pajama trousers and a white vest, revealing very toned shoulders and biceps, which I also did not expect.
“Hello boys,” I drawl, leaning against the door. “I assume you have a good reason for waking me up at the crack of dawn.”
Martin tuts me before pushing past me to walk into my room. Kevin gives me a quick nod and then follows.
“Come on in,” I say before kicking the door shut. “Men entering!” I yell out to Cassie. “Cover up!”
“Oh, my God, Kevin!” Cassie squeaks, and she is exactly how I expect to find her when I am also in the bedroom: sitting up in bed with the sheets wrapped around her, held in place with a double-handed death grip.
“Morning, Cassie,” he mutters. “Sorry about this.”
I head back to the bathroom, find the second dressing gown and toss it to Cassie when I’m back near the bed. Martin and Kevin are standing in front of the curtained window, looking equally anxious.
“Turn around, boys,” I order, and after a confused glance at each other, they do just that.
Getting out of bed, Cassie throws the dressing gown on and then proceeds to straighten the sheets.
“Cassie, no,” I say. “We all know what happened here last night.”
“But…”
“Are you going to get some air freshener for the smell of sex in the air as well?” I ask, and I didn’t deliberately say it to make her blush, but I’m glad it has that effect.
“Can we turn around now?” Martin asks, impatience thick in his voice.
“Sure,” I say after Cassie gives me a nod. She’s on the opposite side of the bed, which feels irrationally far away.
“So, we’ve got a situation,” Martin says, hands held out with fingers tense and curled.
“How bad?” Cassie asks as she sits on the bed. I should be next to her, but I don’t move other than to fold my arms.
“I got a call from a mate of mine,” Kevin says. “A photographer. He got news that there are some pics in today’s tabloids over in London.”
“What kind of pics?” I ask.
“Of Cassie.” He nods at her, and in a heartbeat, I’m climbing over the bed and sitting next to her, her hand in mine.
“Of me doing what?” she asks, her voice high.
“Of you,” Martin says, looking at Cassie and then at me, “arriving here last night.”
“In Amsterdam?”
“Yes, specifically, at this hotel.”
“Oh,” I say, and I only realise my fingers are gripping Cassie’s uncomfortably tightly when she wriggles them around, so I loosen up.
“So what?” Cassie says, which stuns me a little. “I’m in Amsterdam and staying in a fancy hotel. What’s the big deal?”
“They know that Femme Fatale are also staying here,” Kevin explains. “And that much has apparently already been printed.”
I take a deep breath, although it hurts a little to do so. Nobody says anything for many long seconds.
“I’m sorry, I don’t see the problem,” Cassie says.
“They’re worried people will realise you’re here to see me,” I explain.
“We haven’t seen the exact copy yet, but, yes, that’s our fear,” Martin says, bringing a hand up and running it through his hair. It makes his robe open further, but he doesn’t seem to notice or care.
“So, I’ve come to visit my friend while she’s on tour?” Cassie tries.
Kevin shakes his head. “You’re not friends,” he states. “You may have recorded that song together, but everyone knows you’re arch-rivals. The fact that Pia was nowhere to be seen during the press tour for ‘What I Want’ only goes to confirm that.”
I resist the urge to snarl back as Kevin glares at me.
“That was months ago,” Cassie offers.
“You were number one for six weeks,” Martin states.
“Everyone chants for that song at both Femme Fatale and Evergreene concerts. They’re obsessed with the idea of you as rivals, literally fighting over the same man.
Not to mention the fight at the release party.
That didn’t exactly make people think you’d kissed and made up …
even though that’s clearly what has happened here. ”
Martin’s hand rubs his face before heading into his hair again. He tugs on a clump of it.
“Mart.” Kevin brings Martin’s arm back down and holds his hand. “It’s okay. We can get ahead of this.”
“How?” Martin demands, exasperation in every line of his frown.
“Well, for one thing…” Kevin turns to us but keeps Martin’s hand in his.
“You are not to leave this hotel together. Do not open the door to anyone but us. And Cassie, when it’s time to leave, we’ll use a service exit.
I’ll also try to contact the airport and get us fast-tracked through there so no eyes are on us.
And neither of you are to talk about this with anyone. ”
“Yes, even the other guys.” Martin nods at me. “Don’t talk to them about this.”
“But if they already have photos?” Cassie says, and the new fragility in her tone suggests the reality of the situation has finally sunk in. “They’ll just know we’re lying about my being here.”
“Not lying. Just not talking,” Kevin clarifies with a finger point.
“Jesus, fuck!” I stand up and go to the minibar. When I look up as I open the fridge, I see three pairs of concerned eyes on me. I get a Coke out and wave it at them. “Everybody stand down. The alcoholic has not fallen off the wagon. Yet.”
“I don’t think people will jump to conclusions unless we give them a reason to,” Martin says when I’m sitting again next to Cassie, specifically with her next to my good ear. “So Kevin’s right. You two need to stay the fuck away from each other.”
In my peripheral vision, I am aware of Cassie turning towards me, but I don’t look back. I can’t face seeing if she is as upset at such an idea as I am.
“We’re both on tour on other sides of the world,” I say, reaching across Cassie for my cigarettes on the nightstand.
“Yes, and that’s how it has to stay,” Kevin says, and his gaze fixes on Cassie. “Even if I’m coming to see Martin, you have to stay in North America.”
Cassie’s shoulders sink. I stop trying to light a cigarette, and I gather both her hands in mine.
“But we have nearly two months to go before we’re both back in LA,” she says, almost too softly for me to hear her.
Martin and Kevin share a look. “We know it’s difficult,” Martin says. I’ve never heard him sound so … tender.
“What if we don’t?” Cassie asks slowly, carefully.
“What do you mean?” Kevin asks, and he’s dropped Martin’s hand now, his arms crossed over his chest, those secret biceps bulging.
“What if we don’t not see each other.” Cassie squeezes my fingers. “What if we just … do what we want?”
The look she gives me – big, searching blue eyes, raised brows, lifted chin – is so full of hope and courage, I immediately want to envelop her in my arms. Yes, because I’m proud, but also because I want to steal some of it.
“And what? Let the papers come to the correct conclusion that…” Martin starts.
“That you and Pia are … a thing?” Kevin finishes.
A thing. I wrinkle my nose at him because that doesn’t even come close. I refuse to define it myself, but I know what we’re not, and that’s “a thing.”
“Would that be so bad?” Cassie asks, and she’s never sounded more innocent.
Martin’s laugh is humourless and ugly, but when nobody joins in, he slams his mouth shut. “Oh, you are serious.”
Cassie turns her body towards me. “What do you think, Pia?”
I swallow before speaking, even though that buys me no time. I still don’t know what to say. “I think…”
“Wait!” Kevin claps his hands, and it changes the energy in the room instantly. All our eyes land on him as he claps them again. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner!”
“Please share it with the class,” I deadpan, finally lighting my cigarette.
“We say that Cassie is here to see one of the guys,” he says with a smug grin, like he’s just achieved world peace.
“One of which guys?” Cassie asks, but I know what he means. I hang my head, defeated at just the idea.
Martin turns to Kevin, saying, “You mean, Jakob or Geert—”
“No fucking way!” I point my finger at him. “Not Geert.”
“Jon, then?” Kevin offers, like he’s a dish on a menu.
“You want me to pretend I came here to see Jon Davies?” Cassie says his name like he’s an infectious disease, which would make me laugh if I didn’t also feel like claws are digging through my ribs, reaching for my heart.
“It’s actually very clever.” Kevin marches to my minibar and helps himself to two beers. He returns and offers one to Martin, who shakes his head, then looks at me and changes his mind.
They crack them open, and for the first time since the nightmare unfolded, I think to check the time. The clock on the wall above the desk says 8:10 am. Funny how six months ago I would have thought nothing about joining them at this time in the morning, but now a beer is the last thing I need.
“It will solve the problem pretty easily,” Martin says, although he doesn’t sound quite as enthusiastic.
“You really think creating the illusion that Cassie is seeing Jon is going to help?” I demand.
“Why wouldn’t it?” Kevin says after taking a big swig of beer. “When you think about it, it’s genius. The media will lap it up. We can even make more meetings happen. It could be a great cover for you both. Now and in the future.”
I’m speechless when I realise that Kevin actually thinks he’s doing us a favour.
“No,” Cassie says firmly, snapping my gaze away from Kevin’s shit-eating grin. “I won’t do it.”
“Cassie,” Martin says, and he steps closer to her. “Think about it. It could be really good for you.”
“No,” she says, and then she’s standing, her hands out of my hold. “I’ve said I won’t do it. And I won’t. End of discussion.”
With that she storms away from the three of us, goes to the bathroom, and slams the door shut.