6. Hayden
HAYDEN
Idebate following Río to the back of the plane, but really? What damage can he get into on a private jet high above land? There’s no bar. I return to my seat.
Coop claps his hands. “Guys, guys. We need to take a bet on this. How long before Río gets shitfaced. The person who comes closest without going over wins.”
The guys throw out dates, some of them giving their drummer until tonight while Coop is more generous and says he’ll last two full weeks. Geez. I might have more than a handful with him.
Bennett stands up. “How about we make this more interesting? I bet ten thousand dollars that our girl Hayden cannot keep Río sober for the entire European tour.”
The plane goes quiet with the exception of the whir of the engines. The amount of money is staggering. From my seat, I raise my hand. “If I do what seems to be the impossible, you’ll pay me the ten thousand dollars?”
Bennett’s head bounces.
“And if I can’t keep Río drinkless—” I allow my question to hang in the air.
“Then I’ll deposit it into Darren’s scholarship foundation,” the lead singer pronounces. A win-win. These guys probably sneeze that much money. Me? Ten grand could change my life. Or at least my sister’s.
Unable to contain myself, I leap out of my chair. “You’re on!”
The band claps while I try to strategize ways to keep the entitled rocker sober. No offense to potential recipients of Darren’s scholarship, but I’m going to win this money. In spite of the drummer.
Before Río comes back, I ask the flight attendant to bring two bottles of soda.
Might as well start as I intend to continue.
When the drummer finally returns to his seat, his eyebrows raise, but he follows my lead and pops open the drink.
At least he guzzles it without comment. I’ll take this as a victory. We land thirty minutes later.
Outside the hotel in Spain, Luke hands out our keys per usual. What is not usual, though, is I’m given a key to Río’s suite. Both of us accost the manager at the same time, “What is this?”
Luke appears unaffected. “Your room keys.”
“They’re to the same room,” I protest, pointing to the rock star.
“I don’t have to stay with him to make sure he doesn’t take a drink.
” Well … Even to my own ears, I’m not convinced.
This boy can get into more trouble than anyone I’ve ever known.
Still. I never thought I’d have to share a room with him to keep him on the straight and narrow. Ish.
“Don’t worry,” Luke says. “Río has a two-bedroom suite. You’ll each have your own rooms, with doors. I think it’s better for all concerned if you room together.”
“Seriously,” Río complains. “I agreed to a babysitter, not be attached at the fucking hip.”
“You said you could do this back at the police station.” One of the manager’s eyebrows lifts. “Didn’t you?”
“That was before I realized everything you meant. What if I bring a groupie to my room?”
Luke shrugs. “Then close your door.”
My stomach turns. I bet Río does this on the regular. No way do I want to be subjected to seeing or hearing that. “Luke, I’m sure I can keep an eye on Río from my own room.”
“Three or more flights lower?” Luke’s jaw twitches.
I do a quick calculation. If I’m not close to Río, he would be unsupervised. Despite what he’s said, I can’t trust him to behave any farther than I could throw him. “Well, when you put it that way, I guess you’re right.”
“I’m so happy you two have come to an agreement,” Río points between us. “However, I’m the person most affected by this ridiculous decision, and I say she gets her own room, like she always does.”
The manager appears ready for battle, but I feel I should take this. Maybe it’ll get Río on my side? It’s worth a ten-thousand-dollar shot. “Listen, I agree this is unusual.”
Río mutters, “Unusual?”
“However, how much time do you actually spend in your room? You’re always going to a gig or getting ready for one, or are out at one of the many publicity interviews I’ve set up. It won’t be too bad.”
“And if I pick up a groupie or two, you won’t be bothered?”
My entire being roils, but I manage not to let my face so much as twitch. “I’ll be in the second bedroom.” I consider for a moment and add, “Door open. In case you’re tempted to drink.”
“Oh.” The drummer takes a step back. “I didn’t peg you for a voyeur, but whatever floats your boat.”
“I’m not a—” I stop my protest. It doesn’t matter. So long as this idiot doesn’t get into the headlines and stays sober, I’ll be doing my job and collecting a nice payday thanks to Bennett. Keep your eyes on the prize, girl. “Think what you want. It’s my job to watch over you.”
His eyebrows wiggle. “I’ll be sure to make it worth your while.”
Seriously? I revise his mental age downward from eighteen to sixteen. “So long as you don’t drink or cause another scene, I don’t care what you do.” Or who.
Río’s chin ticks upward. “Challenge accepted.”
What have I gotten myself into? I snatch the keys from Luke’s hand. “Come on, let’s get settled in.” I pat myself on the back for not calling him a child. But the night’s still young.
We enter the gorgeous hotel and my breath stills.
The artwork is amazing, and we’re only in the lobby.
It’s almost a sacrilege to roll our luggage on the highly-polished marble floors.
This place seems to have a history preceding it being a hotel.
It probably was some noble-person’s home, which hosted royalty and balls back in the day.
I stop. We’re in Spain. Perhaps Don Quijote stayed here.
A laugh escapes as I pull out my phone and start taking photos.
“What’s so funny?”
I glance at Río and take his picture with the gorgeous walls in the background. “Don’t you ever wonder about the history of these amazing hotels?”
His brown eyes dart around the room. “Uhm. No.” He looks at me as if I were a bug on his drumhead, causing him to debate whether to save or squish it.
Not allowing him to make a decision, I shake my head. “Come on, let’s go to our room.” In my mind, I repeat what I just said. It is our room, but not our room. I correct myself. “Our two-bedroom suite.” Better.
Río joins me at the elevators and we rise to the top floor. I allow him to lead the way down the hallway, where he stops facing a room and opens it. His arm sweeps in front of him. “After you, Babysitter.”
Ignoring the irony of his stupid nickname for me, I sweep by him and am rewarded with a space that has to be twice my apartment in North Carolina.
Maybe three times. I wander into the kitchen area, my fingers running over the full-size stainless-steel appliances, quartz countertops and a beverage bar that boasts both a Keurig and a wine fridge.
A far cry from the mini refrigerators I’m used to in my rooms.
I glance over into what appears to be a dining room that could easily sit eight people, then walk into a living room.
Standing in front of the gas fireplace, I soak up the opulence.
If this is normal for UC, no wonder I can’t relate to them.
It’s like they’re living lightyears away from regular people.
“Which room do you want?”
I turn to face Río, who I almost forgot was in here with me. “Huh?”
“I asked which room you wanted for yourself?”
“Oh. You take the larger one.” He is, after all, going to be performing in front of thousands. I’m sure I can sleep just fine in the smaller room—which has to be larger than any I’ve stayed in. Ever.
“Since I’ve never been here before, let’s check them out.”
He heads into one of the bedrooms, and I follow him. I stifle a gasp. It’s humongous, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Gaudí’s still-unfinished cathedral, the Sagrada Familia. Two sets of doors hide closets and the bathroom. “This one is okay. Let’s look at the other one.”
“Okay?” I barely register his descriptor before he’s out of the room and heading across the way. If he brings a woman (hopefully only one!), the bedrooms are situated far apart, so there is that.
This room is decorated similarly, but it also has another fireplace and even larger screen television. Plus a fridge. “This one is better. I’ll stay here.”
“No arguments from me.” I turn to leave, but something makes me stop. I veer to my right. “Let me check the fridge and I’ll get out of your hair.”
“What? No.”
Río rushes to my side as I open the refrigerator to reveal tiny bottles of booze. “A for effort.” I collect the bottles and throw them into a nearby garbage bin. “Sober, remember?”
“Sober doesn’t mean I can’t drink,” he protests. “It only means I can’t get shitfaced.”
“Nice try. Sober means you drink this.” I hold up a can of soda. “Or seltzer. Milk. Water.” I offer alternatives.
“Wine,” he counters.
My head cocks. “Seriously? Let’s look it up, shall we?
” Despite being so tired I could fall asleep on my feet, I plug the word “sober” into my phone and read him the definition.
I clear my throat. “The legal definition of ‘sober’ is ‘free of alcohol and drugs, except for prescription medications.’ Are you on any prescription medicine?”
“No.”
“Then you are to remain free of alcoholic beverages while under my careful eye.”
“I never consented to this.” He holds up his phone and presses a button. Luke answers. “Dude. When I agreed to be sober, I didn’t think it meant no drinks at all. Your watchdog is telling me I can’t even have a drink or two of wine.”
“Río, you literally caused a riot at the Trevi Fountain because alcohol impaired your reasoning about when to rein it in. What did you think I meant when I said you had to be ‘sober’? Simply not drunk?”
My thought exactly.
Both of my charge’s hands bang against his leg, his cell bouncing. I’m annoyed my word wasn’t the last, but at least Luke backed me up. This privileged rocker needs to learn to listen to me. Luckily, I’ve had practice with this type of behavior my entire life. He’s not going to get the best of me.