13. Río
RíO
My laughter rings through the limo. Hayden, my babysitter, created a diversion to get me away from Pop and Stepwitch? I can’t believe it. Although, something inside me says I would’ve done the same thing for her.
She turns her head toward me. “It’s not that funny.”
“Hey, I got you out of there, right?”
Not a minute too soon, either. When Pop’s hand closed around mine, I wanted to puke. Or break it. Or kick the nice drum kit the society offered me. Don’t even get me started on all the negative emotions flinging through my body when Stepwitch was being interviewed.
I look at Hayden again. She’s the reason I was there, to receive the award, which actually was cool. She’s also the reason why my father and his wife came. Which was not. If I’m being fair, though, she didn’t know about my family situation when she accepted the invitation for me.
The limo stops in front of the hotel, and I help Hayden onto the street. While I’d love to hit up a bar and down one or five Gold Rushes, I know she’d have a cow. Besides, this woman fascinates me. “Let’s go to the room.”
Crossing the lobby, we take the elevator up to the top floor and I open the door.
This two-bedroom suite isn’t as spacious as the one in Barcelona, but it’s still nice with a great view of the City of Brotherly Love.
I peer into the fridge. “Water, soda, or sparkling cider?” These options suck.
Perhaps something innocuous would be okay with the babysitter?
“Or, I can order something better? How about a wine or beer?”
“I’m good with sparkling cider.”
Of course she is. It’s not like I abuse alcohol, is it? Over the past few days, I have been considering that Luke might be onto something here. I certainly don’t want to end up like Darren, addicted and out of control. “Sparkling cider it is.”
I grab two flutes and pour our beverages, pretending it’s champagne. I bring our drinks over to the sofa. Raising my glass, I say, “To my devious babysitter. May she only get more so under my tutelage.”
She giggles. I like the sound. “You didn’t need to be around those awful people a moment longer.” Our glasses clink.
I take a long sip. “Well, it’s certainly not bubbly, but it doesn’t suck.”
“Maybe that can be your endorsement for the brand? ‘It doesn’t suck.’” She giggles again, then takes another swallow, and I track as it slides down her throat.
Enough about my family. Time to learn more about her. “You already told me your parents passed away in a car accident a few years back. Want to talk about it?” When she doesn’t reply, I add, “Seems like it’s only fair considering you got to meet mine today.”
She gulps the remainder of her sparkling cider. I rub my hands over my thighs, wishing I were rubbing her thighs. Before I can act on this impulse, she says, “My parents were good people. I loved them so much. Mom was an interior designer and my father worked at an auto body shop.”
“Salt of the earth types.”
Her head bounces. “They always were trying to help others out. If someone moved into the neighborhood, Mom brought a casserole. When someone’s car battery failed, Dad would jump them.” A soft smile crosses her face. “I try to follow in their footsteps.”
“I can’t imagine Pop doing anything remotely helpful like that. If there’s nothing in it for him, he’s not interested. The only reason he was there today was for the press.” I push her hair off her cheeks. “Your positive upbringing made you who you are. Were they happy you got into PR?”
She turns toward me on the sofa and crosses her legs. “They were excited I was using my college degree. When they,” Hayden catches a breath. “When they were killed, I was working at a local rescue, taking photos for their social media.”
My eyebrows pull together. “Seems like a big jump from that to working with a rock band.”
“Yeah, well, they left me in charge of my sister, which meant I needed to make more money. I loved what I was doing, but it didn’t pay enough. So, I landed this job.”
This statement confirms her sister is some self-absorbed brat like my stepsister. I give myself a mental shake—I’m not interested in her sister. I want to find out more about this intriguing woman. “But what about social media?”
“Oh, I post to UC’s socials all the time. For instance, the photos of you eating a Philly cheesesteak got tons of responses.” She pulls up her phone and turns it toward me. “See?”
Sure enough, there are over ten-thousand likes on the post, with a bunch of comments. “Impressive.” I pass her cell to her. “How about the PR stuff?”
“It’s cool.” She huffs a laugh. “You guys sure do keep me on my toes. Especially when you start a riot at the Trevi Fountain.”
I rear backward. “Hey! I didn’t realize things would get so out of hand.”
Her head shakes. “You never do.”
I shrug. “It’s not my fault people follow me.” My fingers trace her arm. “Besides, you were telling me your life story. Now that we got the professional shit out of the way, how about the more fun stuff? Hobbies? Did you leave a boyfriend behind in”—where is she from?—“Colorado?”
She gives me a look. “I’m from North Carolina.”
“My bad.” I tuck this nugget of information away. Seems like I may need it again.
“As for hobbies? I enjoy yoga.”
Darren used to do yoga on the daily. Since his death, though, no one has touched a mat. “I’ve only done it a few times.” My heart races. I hate talking about Darren now that he’s gone, but she makes me feel safe. “When Darren was alive, he did it all the time.”
“Oh.” She bites her lip. “I had wondered why no one did yoga on the tour. I’ve heard Adam Levine and Bon Jovi practice.”
I nod. “It was too hard for us to continue. 007 was his best friend, you know. They used to practice together a lot.” I turn my head.
“I didn’t know.” She adjusts her position. “I thought Tris and 007 were best buddies?”
“They are now. Darren’s death hit 007 hard. Well, it hit all of us really badly, but 007 and he were best friends since before I met them in fifth grade.”
“You guys have been friends for a long time.”
Looking up to the ceiling, I laugh. “We have. The stories I could tell you.” I look at her shining eyes. “But I won’t. Let me say we know a lot about each other and leave it at that.”
“So 007 and Darren were best friends, and now he’s tight with Tris. Who do you hang out with? Bennett?”
“Bennett was a hard nut to crack. Before he met Jenna… again.” He rubs his arm.
“We all—except Tris, of course—worked together at Amazing Amusements. Back then, his father had just died and he was all sorts of closed off. I tried really hard to get him to open up, but he never fully let himself be part of the band. That is, until Jenna got her hands on him.” I smile.
“They’re a great couple.” Almost make me believe in love. But for my own lived experiences.
Hayden nods. “Jenna’s been through a lot herself. I’m happy they’re making a go of it.”
“It was touch and go there for a while. Things eventually got sorted.” I finish my glass. “Want another?”
“Nah, I’m good.”
“Lightweight!” I teasingly tweak her nose. “You asked about my best friend? It’s Coop.”
Her blue eyes widen. “Really? Coop seems so…” She trails off.
I supply a few adjectives. “Smart? Level-headed? Calm?”
“Well, yeah.” She sits back against the cushions, then rushes forward, “Not that you aren’t or anything.”
I chuckle. “Laying it on a bit thick, huh? Recently, I’ve been accused of drinking too much, been arrested and kicked out of Italy, and got a babysitter assigned to me. I don’t think that qualifies me as ‘calm.’”
“Fine.” She runs her index finger over her lips. I swallow my desire to do the same. “It’s that you two seem so different.”
I force myself to focus. “I met Coop in sixth grade and we’ve been through it all together. He’s always offered great advice. I was there for him when he was at his lowest.” I pause, remembering that time almost a decade ago. Continuing, I say, “He’s more of the deep thinker to my free spirit.”
“Free spirit,” she repeats. “Accurate.”
“Hey. Nothing wrong with it. Got me all the way from Barcelona to Philadelphia today, didn’t it. I doubt any of my other bandmates would’ve taken the flight.”
“I’m not so sure. Given the bedroom onboard the private plane, my guess is none of the guys would’ve turned it down.”
I wave my hand. “Honey, all these trappings don’t mean much to any of us anymore. Well, maybe to Tris, considering it’s still pretty new to him. But we’ve won the awards, played stadiums all over the world, fly in private jets. Nothing phases us.”
She shifts in her cross-legged position. “So, room service in a hotel?”
I shake my head.
“Limos taking you from place to place?”
My head continues to shake.
She stares at the sofa. “That’s sad. Things people aspire their whole lives to experience, mean nothing to you.” Her finger traces the cushion beneath her. “What brings you joy?”
Her question stumps me. “I snatch happiness wherever I am. Like listening to the busker on the street back in Barcelona. I enjoyed that very much.”
Her smile rewards me. “I liked his performance, too.”
I nudge her shoulder. “So much so that you ripped your dress.”
She fiddles with her hair. “Which you replaced.”
“Couldn’t have my babysitter walk around with a hole in her dress, now could I?” I lean toward her ear. “Although, it could’ve been fun for me to try to cover it up.” The fresh scent of oranges wafts into my nostrils. It shouldn’t be sexy, yet it turns me on.
“That would’ve been something. I’m sure the press would’ve played up how handsy you were with a local fan.”
I pick up a lock of her strawberry-blonde hair. “Are you?”
She doesn’t move. In a throaty whisper, she asks, “Am I what?”
I wrap the tendril around my finger. “A fan.”
Hayden swallows. “I, uhm, enjoy UC’s music. Is that what you wanted to hear?”
“How about the beat? Does it enter your bloodstream and make you want to dance like you did when the busker was playing?” I kiss her cheek, and she sucks in a gasp. “I liked that uninhibited side of you.”
“You did?”