9. Río
RíO
Hayden emerges from a dressing room, holding her camera. She takes a group shot where I ham it up, playing imaginary drums on Coop’s back. She tells us she’s going to post them on our socials. “Your fans will eat this up.”
Never one to let such an easy opening sail by, I stick out my tongue. “I’m down with that!”
Tris—of all people—shoves my shoulder. “Give it a rest. I don’t want to get kicked out of Spain, too.”
I raise my hands as if in surrender. “I know nothing!” We all crack up.
“Hey,” Luke says. “I heard about this great restaurant around the corner. Who wants to try it out?”
The newlyweds exchange glances. Bennett says, “We’ll pass. Jenna arranged for a massage back in the room.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “A couple’s massage, if you get my drift.”
Our manager lifts his palm. “No more details. We get enough from Río.”
My hand flies across my heart. “I’m wounded. I’ve been an exemplary rock star since Rome. Two whole days ago.”
“Shit. That’s like a new record,” Coop notes. “He’s due.”
Our bassist chimes in, “That’s why Hayden’s here. Keeping him in line.”
F-that. I follow my own beat. “You do you. I don’t comment on your choices.” Time to get out of here. “Go to the stupid restaurant by yourselves. See you at soundcheck.”
As is usual, I leave my bags of new clothes to be delivered to the hotel’s front desk and exit the shop. On the street, I take a deep breath of Barcelona air and look around. Some sort of archaeological site calls to me and I set off in its direction.
“Río!”
I hear my name being called from behind me.
Babysitter. Not needing another reminder of what a fuckup I am, I keep walking until I reach a crosswalk.
Hands beating against my thighs, I wait for the light to turn.
Which doesn’t happen soon enough, because Hayden catches up to me.
Wisely, she steers clear, merely shadows me as I step into the almost-empty site—guess the buildings aboveground carry more weight with tourists—which proclaims to give a glimpse into earlier civilizations.
I walk around one level, noticing another one below. Barcelona’s been rebuilt several times, or at least there are various levels of civilizations on top of each other. My annoyance at being supervised melts as I read about all the prior lives here.
Since she’s literally shadowing me, I point to some ancient pottery. “Hard to imagine people used this as silverware hundreds of years ago.”
“It’s awe-inspiring. Makes me feel pretty insignificant.” I turn toward Hayden, understanding what she’s saying. “I mean, if you were a local politician back then, you were at the top of society’s ladder. Can you name someone besides the kings from this era?”
I shake my head. She has a point. “We don’t even know the names of popular artists from one hundred years ago, never mind from this time period.”
“Yet they lived and loved and shared good times as well as bad.”
Her observation sinks into my heart. Will UC be thought of in the next century? “Guess that means we have to make the most out of the time we’ve been given.” I turn to her.
“But not to excess.”
One side of my mouth lifts. “Where’s the fun in that? I say, we should live out loud because it won’t be remembered in the future. So long as you don’t hurt anyone, go for it.”
She puts her camera around her neck. “That might be the best rule. Don’t try to ruin someone else’s life and enjoy your own.”
Hear that, Pop? Don’t set out to hurt others, and you’re good. I shut my eyes for a moment. “Like what we do on stage. We play our music for everyone’s enjoyment.
“That’s true. A real shared experience. Can’t get much better.”
She’s right.
Humming a tune popular twenty years ago, I offer her my hand. She takes it, and a buzz runs up my arm. Spinning her around, she laughs.
It’s a pure sound.
I like it.
And I can keep this for myself, since no one else is nearby.
Wanting to maintain our mood, I end the song and point to another sign with yet more information about the previous inhabitants of this great city. We go down more stairs and find ourselves at the bottom of the dig, in the oldest part.
“Fascinating,” she remarks. “They’ve unearthed an old drum.”
How did I miss this? Was I studying my entrancing babysitter more than the ruins? I focus on the ancient instrument. “This is so cool. I bet the guy playing was surrounded by all the ladies, who swooned over his talent.”
“Or,” she counters. “The women would tell him to shush so the animals didn’t find their hiding space and eat them.”
“Geez. I prefer my take on events.”
She chuckle-snorts. Her hand flies in front of her face.
I smirk. “That’s what you get for being a downer. Should’ve played along with my story.”
She smiles, her blue eyes getting involved. “You may be right. Fine. A guy played drums and all the women in the village came out to hear him. Then what?”
“They’d start dancing, of course.” In my mind’s eye, I picture an entire town coming from their huts to listen to the intricate beats being played by the man with the fast hands.
“The guy might even add two or three more drums to his set, pounding a catchy beat. Little kids would jump on their bare feet, with their parents keeping a watchful vigil. Or,” I pause.
“Maybe going off to a corner to create more brothers and sisters.”
She swats the top of my shoulder. “You had to go and ruin it, didn’t you?”
“Hey. Just keeping it real.” I might be persuaded to sneak away with her for some practice. Down boy! She’s your babysitter. However, if Pop had hired such a sexy babysitter for me growing up, maybe I would’ve turned out different.
Nah.
She rubs her hands together. “Are you ready to go back up? I’m getting a little hungry, believe it or not.”
“Perhaps you can find more churros?” I join her as we walk toward the staircase in the middle of the site.
“Oh!” She stops and turns. The sleeve of her cardigan’s caught on the banister. Before I’m able to offer help, she springs free. When we get to the next landing, she takes off the cardigan and assesses the pick. “Damn.”
Noting the goosebumps erupting on her now-bare arms, I surround her with my body heat while she works on her cardigan.
She’s rigid in my arms, her sole focus on fixing her sweater.
I continue to rub my hands up and down her arms, careful to avoid where she’s working.
I’m caught up in the spell this challenging woman put on me.
One who loved the dress Nese picked out for her, but our stylist told us she refused to buy it when she saw its price tag.
Any other chick would’ve asked for my credit card. Not Hayden.
She holds up the cardigan. “I think I fixed it.”
I take a cursory glance at the sweater, which looks fine to me. I’m more aware of the woman snuggling for heat in my arms. “Good job.”
For a split-second, Hayden relaxes against me. My heart rate soars faster than the opening beats during a concert. Cymbals crash as she steps away to put the sweater on her body again. “I’m ready.”
I swallow. Now’s not the time to be daydreaming about my babysitter. “Great.”
We return streetside without any other wardrobe malfunctions. Keenly aware she said she was hungry; I point out a nearby restaurant, which boasts healthy foods. “Want a salad?”
“You know? Sounds wonderful. We always eat so heavily on tour.”
Salad’s not my preferred choice, but suddenly I want to make her happy. “Let’s go.”
I hold the door open and we enter the bustling restaurant that’s a mix between self-serve and sit-down. We approach the counter and place our orders, then are given a number for the table.
“This place is like a lot of burger franchises,” she notes. “But with much better food.”
I allow her to pick a table, and she chooses one in the back.
We pass a beverage dispenser, and my body screams out for a beer and not the waters she ordered for both of us.
Somehow, however, beer with a salad feels wrong.
We continue past a wall to the side with lots of greenery. “I like the vibe in here.”
“Not your typical touristy place, for sure.” She points to the weird wall with plants on it. “Oh look. They have an Instagram wall. I’ll need to snap your photo and put it on UC’s socials.”
Huh. Never thought too much about such things. “After we eat, okay? I’d prefer not to get mobbed in here.”
She places her palm on my forearm. “Of course. I never post contemporaneous photos. Even the ones from the store back there are scheduled to go out in a few hours.”
Makes sense. “Thanks.”
Our food arrives, and I dig in. “Mine’s really good. How’s yours?”
“I like it. I’m happy you found us this place.”
We share a breath.
Are we an us?
It hits me. Yes.
Her gaze dips toward her plate. She feels it too.
Not sure what to do with that, I finish eating and reach for the chips. I hold the bag out to her. “Want one?”
“No, thanks. I’m keeping this one meal clean.”
I shrug. I don’t have to worry about calories since my workout tonight will more than make up for three meals like this. When she finishes, she asks me to stand by the Instagram wall. Seeing as it’s a less popular time, the place isn’t jumping. I walk over to it and she snaps a few photos.
“Oh my! You’re UC’s drummer, aren’t you?” A chick in all black with a septum piercing approaches me. The lady at her side looks ready to pass out.
“Crap.” Hayden lets her camera fall around her neck.
“Hi there,” I address the two women.
“We have tickets to your concert tonight,” the pierced woman says, attaching herself to my side.
“We’re looking forward to another good show.” I open my arm for her friend to come to my other side. “Hayden, would you mind taking a photo of the three of us?”
While the two ladies flutter, Hayden takes a couple of shots. “I’ll post these photos on UC’s socials later. Looks like you got bragging rights.”
“What’s your name, sweetie?” The friend manages to tell me and I text a note to Luke. “When you come tonight, go to the ‘Will Call’ desk. Our manager will have special tickets waiting for you.”