20. Hayden
HAYDEN
That stupid-ass drummer. What the hell was I thinking being with him? At least he gave me a bunch of orgasms, because he’s not worth anything else.
One moment I’m ignoring that asshole dancing with a pretty woman from Lisbon, and the next second there’s a loud splash.
What the heck?
I, together with the rest of the passengers, rush over to the side of the boat. Río is in the river. Wonderful.
No one moves.
He crests the surface, arms flailing, splashing water everywhere.
Still—no one moves.
I guess I’m going to have to save his ass. Yet again. Why didn’t I intervene when I saw him drinking those beers? I’ve now definitely lost the bet with Bennett, as I can’t imagine being able to keep this quiet. I was counting on that money—Mila needs it. Damn him!
A leopard never changes his spots.
While I’m cursing him for making me lose ten grand, my open water training kicks into gear.
I kick off my shoes, shove my cell under one, and dive into the water after the errant drummer.
When I reach him, he’s too drunk to know which end is up, so I put him in the swimmer’s hold that I was taught, and drag him back to the boat.
We approach the ladder and I turn him around to face it.
He’s too shitfaced to make this easy. At least when I learned this for Mila’s sake, she never would’ve been this impaired. I should tell the instructors to add a module about “saving a drunk idiot from the open water.”
An idiot who just lost me a fortune.
I bring him to the ladder and point upward, toward the boat. Where everyone is staring at us. Lovely.
In a low voice laced with irritation, I whisper-shout, “Río, climb up the ladder. Your every move is being taped.”
“That’s all you care about, isn’t it,” he slurs as he swivels in my direction. “Surprised you didn’t want to tape us having sex, to dissect it later.”
I feel like screaming at this entitled jerk, but right now is not the time. I shove him toward the ladder again, this time literally placing his hands on the ladder. Treading water, I push on his butt to get him to climb up.
To the crowd, he yells, “She loves my ass!”
They snicker.
I do not.
Thankfully, the captain extends his hand toward Río. “Here. Grab my hand and I’ll bring you up.”
“How very thoughtful of you.” The drummer begins his ascent.
Thoughtful of him? How about the woman who just saved your wretched life?
I slide underwater as I grapple with my lost hope of getting the needed cash from Bennett’s bet.
When I surface, the entire boat has helped the stupid drummer out of the water and has given him a towel.
No matter how much I would prefer not to join him in the boat, there’s no other way back to shore.
Alone in the river, without anyone to help me, I begin my ascent. This is not easy, considering my soaking wet clothes weigh me down. Finally, I fling myself onto the boat, no thanks to the crew or any of the other passengers.
The bartender walks over to me. “Hope this helps!” He passes me a beer.
My eyelids slam shut. This outing has been the wake-up call I needed. Río is an entitled party boy, exactly as I had pictured him from the outset. No substance. He hasn’t changed one bit. I glance over and he’s now shirtless—shocker—and the girl from before is all over him.
A towel sits on a chair all by itself, so I swipe it. Running it over my clothes, I try to remove all the excess water. I wish I could get rid of the drummer as easily.
Amidst the panic over losing Bennett’s bet, the PR part of my mind jumpstarts. Río’s fall into the water has been documented by everyone on the boat. Maybe I can draft a quick non-disclosure agreement for them to sign?
Another selfie is taken.
My eyes close. I think that ship has sailed.
Exhaling, I realize I have to get in touch with Nina about this. She might have an idea about how to handle this debacle. In any event, I need to warn her.
What happened to Río to make him drink like a fish? He was so different in his room earlier. When we both were naked.
Stop it! This is why I knew sleeping with the drummer was all sorts of wrong.
My job here is to prevent a complete disaster. I open my cell and text my boss. Which fails because we’re in the middle of the river. Great.
I approach the boat’s captain. “Hi. Thanks for picking up Mr. Sullivan.”
His blue eyes shine. “I never want to lose any of our customers overboard.”
Where was he when I was in the water?
Ignoring my truth, I ask, “I was wondering, though, if you could maybe keep this little incident to yourself? Untamed Coaster can make a large donation to your boat as a thank you.”
“I appreciate the gesture, missy, but the boy didn’t do anything wrong—he just lost his footing when we hit a wave. No biggie.”
Perhaps the captain is right. I guess I could spin it as a simple slip and fall. Will this really work?
I open my cell’s notes app and begin writing down possible PR moves I can take. One, quote the captain and call it an accident. I glance at Río who has another beer to his lips, and mark it as “low probability.”
Having everyone sign NDAs? Yeah, another non-starter.
Put out a press release before the media gets hold of the story?
Say it was an accident, UC’s drummer wasn’t harmed, and the boat trip was amazing tour of the river around Lisbon.
Perhaps by giving accolades to the cruise, the incoming will be deflected?
This is my best idea yet. Over the swarm of bees in my stomach about my lost bet, I start drafting.
After we tour a bridge made by the same team that designed the Eiffel Tower, and check out the gorgeous monuments along the way, we return to the dock.
I better get Río to the hotel so he can sober up for the concert tonight.
At least we have several hours beforehand—he’s going to need every minute to sleep it off.
Taking a deep breath, I approach the drummer. And the barnacle, namely the woman he singled out before, attached to him. I try the sensible route. “Río, we have to get to the hotel so you can prepare for tonight’s gig.”
Fuzzy brown eyes skewer me. Then bounce to the woman attached to his torso. His naked torso. “My babysitter says I have to go back now.”
She gives me a dirty look, then eye fucks the drummer as if he were a bottle of the country’s favorite port. “I’d love to see your hotel.”
Hell to the NO. “We don’t have that much time, Miss, ah—”
She ignores me and kisses Río on the lips. “I’m sure I can make it worth your while.”
I knew what we had wouldn’t last, but I’m not about to be thrown aside like I meant nothing. I force my lips upward. “Sorry. No guests. Manager’s rule.” Better tell Luke about this rule.
Río stirs. “Sorry darling, my Babysitter’s right. I need to prepare for tonight. How about I leave a ticket for you at Will Call, and we can see each other afterwards?”
She runs her fingers through his hair.
Something sharp twists in my chest.
She replies, “That sounds divine.”
The boat attaches to the dock with a couple of bumps. Thankfully, the drummer stays dry this time.
I address everyone onboard. “Thanks for a very eventful cruise. I know a lot of you took photos and videos, but the band would appreciate your not posting anything until tomorrow.” I let that soak in for a moment.
“We don’t like to give out our whereabouts in real time, as I’m sure you can imagine. ”
“Sorry lady!” One guy yells from my right side. “Already got his splash posted to my socials!” A couple of people murmur their agreement.
Great.
Plan B, publish the press release as soon as possible. Toward that end … “Río, we have to get back.” He doesn’t move. “Now!”
He offers me a salute, then speaks with all of the passengers.
I would physically move him if I thought I had the ability, but he’s taking his sweet-ass time.
Lovely. At least he’s in another photo with the boat’s captain, which I capture on my phone and send—together with my draft press release—to my boss.
This has to bring some sort of positive press.
I offer up a prayer that Platinum Records won’t see this spectacle. Or care about it.
Right. And pigs fly.
“Río, we need to leave. Now!” I stomp my foot to punctuate my demand.
At long last, the drummer meets me on the pier, and waves at the boat’s passengers. I restrain myself from wanting to whack his ass—not in a playful way.
When we finally reach the street, the car service waits. Opening the door, I motion for him to enter. “After you.”
“I wonder if they have champagne in here.” He jumps in.
I’m surprised smoke isn’t coming out of my ears.
I follow him into the vehicle, where my request for no alcohol has been upheld.
A sullen drummer looks out the window. Because I don’t want to get into it with him with an audience, I stare out the opposite window and reach out to the calvary.
One of them better be around when we arrive.
Ten minutes later, we’ve pulled up to the hotel. With a quick “thanks,” he gets out of the car and heads to the front door, leaving me behind.
What is wrong with him?
I race into the lobby and see his bare torso entering the bar, shirt tucked into his back pocket. I stomp after the stupid drummer.
He orders a Gold Rush as I approach. “He’ll have a diet soda,” I correct.
The bartender peers between us. Río holds up a hundred-dollar bill, and the decision is made. Smirking, he turns his head toward me. “Looks like I won.”
“Yeah. I lost big time. Failed at being your alcohol babysitter. Probably got the band’s label in a tizzy.” Don’t let them replace him. “All in one afternoon.”
“You skipped over winning at orgasms, even though you didn’t deserve them.”
“What the hell has gotten into you, Río?” I explode. “None of your behavior makes any sense. What was I thinking by introducing you to Mila?”
“As you like to remind me, she is your sister.” He taps a beat on his thigh. “I’m not the one who has to live with it.”
The bartender brings him his long-delayed Gold Rush. He takes a sip and nearly comes in his pants.
I’m vibrating with anger, fists at my sides. Callused fingers cover them. Good thing the guitarist finally got here.
Coop and I exchange a look, which conveys that he will handle his best friend from here. About damn time. I offer the guitarist a nod and leave the two in the bar. I need to make sure this afternoon doesn’t turn into something even worse.
As I wait for the elevator to open, the guitar tech joins me. “Hey, Hayden. Have a good day in Lisbon?”
“I don’t think I would qualify it as ‘good.’”
“Río did something stupid again, huh?”
“You could say that.” I glance back at the bar, but I can’t see Río nor Coop. For the better.
“He’s always been a wild one. Hell, he was kicked out of some country in Africa, and now got himself banned from Italy. Who does that?”
“You got me.” Although, his antics at the Trevi Fountain didn’t deserve such outrageous treatment, if you ask me. Trouble seems to find him, not the other way around. Unless you count the boat ride today.
“He’s not as bad as Bennett was before Jenna in the ladies’ department, but Río always had a chick or two hanging off him and never-ending rounds of alcohol. In my opinion, you did great calming him down for a week. He’s never been this sedate.”
Sedate? I’d hardly call Río sedate.
Especially in bed.
I shake my head. Mila deserves better. I deserve better.
The elevator doors open and we enter. “Are you going to tell the others in the band that they should take care of their own drummer? Don’t understand why you were given Río duty in the first place.”
Only the label threatening to pull him from the tour. I don’t share this with him. Not sure who knows this truth outside the band itself and I’m not about to blab to Kieron, of all people. “Luke thought I would be a good influence, I guess.”
“Well, if you ask me, no one can contain him and it was crazy of Luke to ask it of you. I’m sure the rest of the guys will step up. You’re here to do PR, not work miracles.”
The cab stops at Kieron’s floor and he exits. I stew over what he said all the way up to Río’s floor. He’s right. No one can stop the drummer from doing what he wants—namely drink. Still, he was sober under my watch. It has to count for something.
Not for Bennett’s bet, though.
Nor for my idea of supplementing my income with a UC photo journal to sell as merch.
Mila, I’ll get the money you need without the bet. Somehow. I’m sorry I brought Río into your life.
Using my key, I enter the suite and dump all my things into my suitcase. No way will I stay here, especially if he’s going to bring that woman from the boat back here tonight.
While I’m packing, I make a mental list of what needs to be done. Get my own hotel room. Talk with Nina. Send out the press release. Seek reassurance from Renata.
Pray the label has a sense of humor.