11. Río
RíO
Never for an awards ceremony.
“Listen, I know you don’t like going back to that city,” Coop starts.
I jump in “Damn right.”
“If there’s a drum award, though, it might be different.” Coop continues as if I hadn’t spoken. “You could garner a whole bunch of good publicity.”
007 adds, “Plus show Rome you’re better than the Trevi Fountain incident.”
Bennett contributes, “When we were growing up, you used to idolize that Society. Think about it, man. It should polish your reputation real nice.”
Bennett has a point. However. “I don’t want to see them.”
“Who?” Tris asks. I’m not up to explain my crappy homelife, so Coop does it for me. “Oh. Well, maybe your father won’t be there.”
“And miss a chance to hobnob with any sort of elite, even if it’s only lowly drummers?” My bitterness comes through loud and clear.
I glance over to our manager, who is huddled with my babysitter.
Which reminds me. “Let’s get to The Closet, guys.
I need my phone.” We move into the next conference room, where I seek out the woman holding our cellphones.
A few minutes later, I’m off to the side scrolling through my emails.
Sure enough, this one from the Philadelphia Drummers Society came in during our gig. And it’s been open. Fucking forwarding.
I suck in my breath and read Hayden’s response. About how honored I am to receive this award. Fine. The fact they selected me is humbling. Still not good enough to bring me to Philly.
I continue reading her acceptance of their “gracious offer.” Fuck. How can I get out of this?
“I didn’t realize you wouldn’t want to accept.” Hayden’s voice draws me away from my emails.
“You should’ve asked me,” I snap. “Who else did you tell?” Her index finger runs over her lip. I’ve noticed she does this when she’s thinking about an answer. “Tell me!”
“Fine. I sent out a press release to all the media contacts and posted a blog post on UC’s website.”
I slide down the wall. I’m well and truly fucked. I have no choice—the whole world knows about it.
I rake my fingers through my hair. Frankly, I’ve been dubbed the bad boy drummer. Perhaps I can skip it, and it’ll be chalked up to more bad behavior on my part.
My chin juts out. “I’m not going.”
“Río, you have to go,” Hayden admonishes. “I responded for you and the organizers were thrilled.”
“Bully for them.”
Another voice enters the fray. “You know you can’t avoid this,” Coop reasons after he slides down the wall and stretches out his legs. “People are counting on you now.”
“I don’t care.” I don’t want any hometown press. Pop need not glom onto this.
“I invited your family too.”
Hayden’s pronouncement makes me surge to my feet. “You did what?”
Her shoulders square even as she slinks back a couple of steps.
Next to me, Coop gets upright. “Río, hold up. Hayden didn’t realize what she was stepping into here.
” He addresses the traitor in the room. “He’s not on good terms with his family, Hayden.
They’re, for lack of a better term, users.
His father sucked the life out of everyone around him in order to get ahead, a teenaged Río included. ”
“Oh,” she replies. “I didn’t know.”
“I’m sure Río would be thrilled to accept this award from any other location. However, Philadelphia—”
“Isn’t on my radar,” I finish.
Hayden rubs her neck. “But UC played a gig there at the beginning of the US tour.”
“And we got the fuck out of town as soon as humanly possible.” I shoot Hayden another scowl. “You got me into this mess, babysitter. Get me out.” I cross my arms across my bare chest.
“I can’t think of how,” she admits. Makes two of us. “Maybe your parents won’t come?”
I snort. “Pop never misses an opportunity to get free press. This is right up his alley.”
Coop tugs on my arm. “Excuse us, Hayden.” He pushes me into a quiet corner—as quiet as it gets backstage. “Listen, this sucks. I understand.” He motions toward the rest of the band. “We all get it. But Hayden wasn’t aware, and the award group—”
“The Philadelphia Drummers Society.” How many emails did I ignore from them?
“Yeah, them. They didn’t know about your family. Besides, Hayden invited your parents, not the award group. So, she can run interference between you and your father—”
I glance up at my best friend. “The whole damn lot of them.”
“Well, true,” Coop admits. “How about you make Hayden deal with them while you garner some positive press for a change. Trouble seems to follow you. This award could flip the script.”
“You might be onto something. All I did was win an award. My stupid babysitter went off and invited the monsters to the ball.” A smile crosses my face. “She can keep them away from me and I rack up the accolades.” I slap him on the back. “Good plan,”
Luke walks over to us. “The jet is ready for you. Due to the time change, you might want to get moving. You are going, right?”
“Not like I have much of a choice, but Coop gave me a good idea. I’ll go to the hotel and pack up. Should be ready to leave within an hour.”
I turn to my best friend. “Thanks. This should be interesting.”
“I have faith in you.”
Guess that makes one of us.
Two hours later, we’ve taken off from the Barcelona airstrip. It’s only Hayden and me on the plane. She looks like she’s about to pass out. Too bad. I’m wired.
I’m not about to rehash the fight over her responding for me. Not like I can change anything anyway. Time to turn the tables and learn what makes my babysitter tick. This information could prove helpful down the road.
“Tell me about you.”
She tries to hide her yawn, but fails. “Excuse me?”
“I said,” repeating each word as if she were a child. “Tell me about your life.”
She huffs. “I’m tired. Can we do this later?”
My head shakes. “Nope. I’m awake and we have nothing to do for the next ten hours. Unless, of course, you want to do something other than talk.” I leer at her.
“I’m not up for any of your games, Río. I’m tired. I need sleep.”
I glance around the empty plane. “Fine. I see some adult beverages over there. You sleep and I’ll entertain myself.” I unbuckle my seatbelt.
Hers is off faster. “You win. I’ll tell you about myself.” She comes to me and presses on my shoulders so I sit. See? I can be obedient. “What do you want to know?”
“Oh, the usual. Where you grew up, all about your childhood, what made you want to get into PR for a rock band.” I wave my hand. “That sort of stuff.” The question of why she couldn’t afford the dress I bought her nags at the back of my mind. I’m sure I’ll find out that answer soon enough.
“So, nothing much, huh?”
I motion for her to begin. “Floor’s yours.”
“Fine. I was born and raised in North Carolina. I have one sister who is nine years younger than me.”
“Nine years? An oops baby or second marriage?” Like my stepsister.
“Oh, my parents definitely wanted another baby. They were thrilled to get pregnant again. I was young, but I have memories of my parents crying a lot. I think they had a few miscarriages, so they were excited to have my sister.”
“Sounds wonderful. My parents separated when I was eight, and the divorce was final two years later. Pop remarried when I was eleven, and they had a kid the next year.”
“We both have much younger siblings,” she muses.
“Well, I don’t talk with mine unless I absolutely have to. I got out of the house with UC when I was eighteen and haven’t looked back.”
Her hand rubs against her chest. “What about your mother?”
“What about her?”
“She clears her throat. “Do you talk with her often?”
“Nah. When we got signed, everyone in the band changed phone numbers, and I simply never gave it to her. You see, I was a pawn during their divorce. Pop had all the money as he was climbing the corporate ladder. My mother was a schoolteacher, so she didn’t make much.
I grew tired of relaying messages between the two, so I shut down communications as soon as I could. ”
“I’m sorry.” She puts her hand on my forearm.
For some reason, I reach over and put my free hand over hers. We remain like this until I pull away. “How old is your sister now?”
“She’s seventeen.”
“Which makes you what? Twenty-six?” She nods.
Five years younger than me. “Only one more year until your parents are free.” I pause.
“Unless she goes to college.” Which my stepsister did, of course.
Anything to keep living off her parents.
Once again, I thank Darren for getting UC off the ground when he did.
Saved me from spending another minute under their roof.
Hayden readjusts herself. “Actually, my parents died a few years ago.”
Her admission rams into me. For someone who appears put together all the time—a total rule follower if I’ve ever met one—her life hasn’t been a bed of roses.
I begin to reach out to her, but pull back. “I had no idea. What happened?”
She looks out the window. I don’t push, simply allow her to share her story when she’s ready.
While she gathers her thoughts, I put some things together.
The reason why she couldn’t buy the dress in Barcelona is because she needs to send money to her sister.
Is she financially responsible for her? If her sister’s anything like mine, though, her sole purpose for existing is to waste money.
I bet Hayden feels she has to look after her sister since her parents are gone.
Heck, her sister’s seventeen. Time for her sibling to pull up her big girl panties!
I’m about to tell Hayden exactly this when she finds her voice again. “Three years ago, my parents were on their way back home from visiting my sister at her school.”
She’s only seventeen now, so she must be at some boarding school. Like I thought. Her sister might even rival mine for biggest squanderer sibling.
“It was dusk. Police told me someone cut off a tractor trailer on the highway. The driver swerved to avoid them. The contents in his truck shifted. His truck flipped. My parents were behind him and didn’t have anywhere to go.
The impact was immediate.” She sucks in a breath and turns her head away from me.
Now I feel like a schmuck. It’s obvious she’s holding it together by a thin thread. “You must’ve loved them very much.”
Her hand rubs her arm. “I did.”
“Why haven’t you shared this with the band. We can be a pretty good support system.”
“My burdens aren’t your problem. I’m here to do PR, not be looked at as some sort of pathetic worker bee.”
“You could never be that.”
She looks tiny and alone. Unbuckling my seatbelt, I walk over, sit on the corner of her chair, and wrap her in my arms, directing her head to rest against my shoulder. She’s stiffer than a new drumhead, but I keep rubbing my hand up and down her back until she relaxes into me.
I try not to admire how her strawberry blonde hair compliments my skin.
I try not to notice how well she fits against my body.
I try not to sniff her intoxicating fresh scent, hinting at oranges.
Suddenly, my issues about accepting the award from the Philadelphia Drummers Society seem miniscule. If Pop and the Stepwitch come, I can block them out. Hayden doesn’t have this luxury.
“It’s been a long day. Want to lie down?”
Her heart beats in a staccato rhythm against my chest. Without moving her head, she asks, “Would you mind if I asked the flight attendant to lock up the booze first?”
Wow. What must she think? I’d go off on a bender if she doesn’t watch me like a hawk? I’ll give her a pass this time. This has been a very intense conversation.
I pull away from her inviting body. “How about this? We both go into the bedroom in the back. I won’t let you molest me and you don’t let me leave the room.” I extend my hand.
“Sounds like we have a deal.” I escort her to the bedroom.
Gonna be a first for me. We’re only going to sleep.
She enters the bedroom and stares at the king-size bed. “You seriously have a proper bedroom on this jet?”
“You never know how long a flight could be.” Makes perfect sense to me.
“You guys are spoiled. In coach, I consider it a win if I can move the seat back a few inches.”
I shrug. What can I say? “Do you have something to change into?”
She looks around. “The flight attendant took all my bags.” She kicks off her shoes. “Guess I’ll sleep in this dress.” She fingers the bottom hem, and I’d bet my last Grammy she’d rather wear anything than the dress I got her in Barcelona.
“I still have my overnight bag. I’m sure there’s a shirt in it for you.” I chuckle. “Not that I need one.” Before she can say a word, I grab the bag and pull out a t-shirt for her and a pair of sweats for me. Something tells me this is going to be a long night.
I use the shirt to point to the bathroom. “Here you go. You can change in there.”
“Thanks.” It looks like she wants to say something more, but she doesn’t. She merely takes my t-shirt and disappears into the bathroom.
I make quick work of changing into my sweats, and slip into the bed before she rejoins me.
I let her tale about her parents wash over me.
The only person I ever loved who passed away was Darren, and that was an awful time.
I’d known him since fifth grade, and we’d grown up together like brothers.
How much worse would it be with your parents.
Assuming, of course, you had a loving relationship with them. Something I certainly don’t.
Hayden returns to the bedroom, wearing my t-shirt that falls to her knees. “Looks good on you,” I remark.
She tucks her hair behind her ear. “I had to remove the tags.”
I chuckle. “Yeah, well shirts and I don’t get much play.” I pat the bed. “Come on.”
She climbs up, careful to keep at least another person’s length between us. Makes sense, although I have an almost undeniable urge to pull her into my body and let her scream out her hurts. My fingers rub against the light switch.
“All set?”
“Yeah.”
The room plunges into darkness.