24. Hayden
HAYDEN
Ienter the sad, little room overlooking the alleyway and run my fingers over the bed. I don’t have the luxury of time to wallow. I need to figure out my next steps. I take stock of my situation.
No boyfriend. No parents. Not going to burden my best friend Renata, since she’s in Los Angeles and dealing with her own issues following the wildfires.
I didn’t say goodbye to Jenna or Nese, as this whole mess happened too fast. I won’t reach out to them unless they text me first. What’s the point?
The chair in front of the dresser beckons. Plopping into it, it sinks in that I’m blackballed from PR. No way around it. What job can I get so I can pay for Mila’s school? This is the most important thing.
I’m good with a camera. Perhaps I can focus on my actual college degree? Can’t be for a large corporation, though, as the label will see I don’t get hired.
Standing, I move over to the bed and collapse, unable to stop another round of tears.
This is all because of that stupid drummer.
One who I thought had cleaned up his ways.
I saw him in Philly with his parents—maybe they weren’t off the mark in writing him off.
He’s nothing more than a child trapped in a man’s body, acting out for daddy’s acceptance.
He didn’t deserve me. I may not be rich, but at least I have the love of my family. My sister loves me. Needs me.
Images of Río and Mila playing drums together try to surface, but I shove them down into the deep recesses of my mind. No, thank you. That man doesn’t warrant another instant of my time.
I roll over to sitting. Maybe things will look better in the morning? I’m looking for a nightgown when someone knocks on my door.
Approaching the door with furrowed brows, I stop and say, “I didn’t order anything.”
“Not even a very poor excuse of a human being?”
Río. That’s Río’s voice. I lunge back, my head shaking.
Another knock. “Please let me in.”
My head shakes harder. Realizing he can’t see me—thankfully—I reply, “Go away. You’ve done enough.”
“I know I fucked up, but I’m here now. I want to fix this.”
Fists form. Now he knows he f’ed up? There’s no “fixing this.” In a loud voice, I yell, “You can’t fix anything. Leave.”
“I’ll stay out in this hallway all night if that’s what it takes. There has to be a solution.”
My eyelids close over my tired, tear-stained eyes. Other guests must be trying to sleep, and they don’t need to hear this bullshit from the entitled drummer. “It’s late. Don’t you have a plane to catch or something?”
“I only need to make things right with you.”
Too little, too late.
All of a sudden, a rhythm pounds on my door. I think it’s “Refocused Destiny,” but I’m not sure. Whatever. He has to quiet down. I hiss, “Hush!”
“I’m not going to stop until you let me in!” His drumming gets louder.
From somewhere down the hall, a man yells, “It’s two o’clock in the morning!”
Crap. I knew the guests would get angry. I should let him stay out in the hallway or get yelled at by other people. But he is UC’s drummer, after all. I can’t allow him to cause yet another problem tonight. God knows what the label would do then.
I take a step forward and stop. Why do I care?
The drumming resumes.
The enraged voice down the hall threatens to call the police.
Through the door, Río begs, “I can do this all night. But I’d much rather do it face to face.”
He’s not stopping until the cops come and haul him away, or I open the door. The first option is tempting.
Then he says, “The jet took off for Ireland hours ago. I would’ve been here sooner if I knew where the hell you were.”
Straightening my shoulders, I yell, “Get a room.”
“Sold out.”
Shit. The banging continues and a guest’s voice gets louder, grumbling about Río causing a scene. Before he can be identified, I yank the door handle. “Get in here.” You idiot goes unsaid.
At least I didn’t take off my work clothes, which will serve as my armor. I tip my chin to the angry hotel patron, who warns me to get him under control. Ha! As if that were possible.
Closing the door, I stare at the drummer who crushed both my heart and career this afternoon. Putting my hands on my hips, I keep my tone regulated. “Fine. You’re in my room. Why?”
My simple question seems to flummox him. Tapping on his thighs, he says, “I didn’t like how we left things.”
My chest heaves. “Well, too bad. Because of your stupid drinking on the boat, you landed in the river and I’m out of a job. I don’t really give a shit about how you feel.”
He blinks. “I’ve never heard you swear before.”
I throw my arms akimbo. “Why are you here, Río?”
“I shouldn’t have drunk so much on the boat.”
“Ding! Ding! Give that man a Euro—he got something right.” My hands clench.
“You know what? I don’t care you realized this—way too late.
You behaved like a child and acted out like you always do.
It’s no wonder your parents didn't give you the time of day growing up.” Shoulders raised, I wrap my arms around my midsection.
“At least I’m living my life, out loud, and not for my little sister!” Both of his hands start to bang a rapid beat on his thighs.
“Oh no you didn’t!” My hands fly in front of my face. “Just because you’re some entitled drummer does not give you any right to say anything against my sister!”
“I wasn’t belittling Mila,” Río replies silkily.
“I was talking about how you don’t dare color outside the lines for yourself.
I’ve never met anyone so scared of her own shadow.
Your every move is defensively calculated to bring more money in the door for your sister’s tuition.
I bet you wouldn’t know fun if it smacked you upside the head! ”
My voice raises. “At least I’m not continually trying—and failing—to get approval from my parents!” I suck in air. “Get out!” I rush at him, and push against his shoulders.
“Get out of my room!” I shove him, and he takes a step backward.
“Leave!” Instead of hitting him again, I race to the door and open it. “Now!”
For a moment, he stands in the middle of my room. He reaches out toward me, then drops his hands. His chin tilts. “As you wish.”
He brushes past me, his shoulder bumping into mine. Asshole! As soon as the last strand of blond hair is out, I slam the door—the noise providing little satisfaction against what he just said.
I lift my nose up. “I am not afraid of fun!”
I stomp my foot. “I am not living my life for Mila!”
I pound on the bed. “I am not timid!”
My back hits the bedding and I stare into the ceiling. “I hope you rot all alone, Río! It would serve you right!”
For the third time tonight, I turn over and burst into tears.