Eight
ROXIE WOKE UP to the sound of a phone ringing.
Confused and discombobulated, she flipped onto her back, fighting off the hair that stifled her.
Bed. She was in bed… How did that happen?
The phone. Right. Phone first.
Sitting up, she snatched the device while shoving at the hair that got in her way again. “Hello,” she answered but received no reply. Maybe she’d been too quick. “Hello?”
“Hello? Rox?”
That sounded kind of like her roommate. “Toria?”
“Where the hell have you been?” she screeched. “You yelled at us for being lost. Last time we saw you was jail!”
Closing her eyes tight, Roxie begged clarity to visit. “I fell asleep,” she murmured, her gaze drifting to the window. Light. The drapes were shut, but light seeped around their edges. “What time is it?”
Searching for a watch or clock, she got no satisfaction.
“Like noon,” Jane said.
Jane. She was on the line too. Speakerphone?
“We’re going home tomorrow! We have to make the most of our last day in town.”
Clearing her throat, Roxie still couldn’t snap to. “What happened with jail? Are you allowed to leave town?”
“No charges were brought against any of us,” Toria said. “Thank God!”
“I don’t know how I’ll face my mom,” Jane said, reeking of guilt and shame.
No one did those emotions like Jane.
“Honey,” Roxie said. “You didn’t do anything terrible. Wrong place, wrong time. Tell your mom that.”
“I told her not to say a word to anyone,” Toria said. “We could lose our jobs… though it would be worth it. A Crimson riot! How Hollywood!”
Standing might wake her up. “I wonder why they changed their mind about the charges,” Roxie said, tossing back her covers.
“Don’t you watch the news?” Toria asked.
Although on her feet, she was still dazed enough to glance around for a TV like one might be on somewhere nearby. Entertainment centers in the Grand Hotel suite concealed the televisions.
Roxie inhaled. “I haven’t looked at a television in days.”
“Zairn made a statement,” Jane said.
Toria picked up the tale. “Yeah, he was on TV yesterday. You didn’t know?”
“He refused to press charges,” Jane said. “And had his lawyers help anyone who needed them.”
Lomond. Hmm. Given that she’d slept through the previous day, the damage control passed her by. But last night… Why hadn’t he said anything? The bedroom door tempted her across the space. She opened it to look at the empty room beyond.
“We were thinking the Chinese Theatre tonight,” Toria said. “Can’t get arrested there, right? We haven’t done the star tour yet. How do you feel about a day in the sun? Jane’s got a couple of tours on standby.”
“I, uh…”
“Why do you sound so out of it?”
Running a hand through her hair, Roxie slouched against the doorframe. “I literally just woke up. I’ll need a shower and breakfast.” Her stomach was empty; she hadn’t finished dinner. “Give me an hour?”
“We’ll swing by and pick you up,” Toria said, giggling. “Never know who we might run into.”
Once the call was over, Roxie frowned into the living room recalling their argument and the talking. Later on, she’d surprised him by lying down and dumping her feet in his lap. Lomond, he must have put her in bed. Had she fallen asleep talking to him? Rude much?
There wasn’t time to reflect, her girls were on their way. She’d need more than a wash to wake up properly. Time was of the essence.
COMING OUT OF HER bedroom wearing two different shoes, Roxie paused to lift one foot then the other.
“Heels or flats,” she asked, tucking her hair behind her ear as she went back and forth, hiding one shoe then the other.
“Why do you even ask?” Jane asked.
Toria’s amusement was answer enough. “She’s right, honey,” she said from her perch against the back of the couch. “You always wear heels.”
“You’re a shoe girl.”
“Not that much,” Roxie said and kicked off the flat to put on the heel she’d brought with her.
Her girls laughed.
“See!” Toria exclaimed. “You didn’t even bring the flat.”
“Who cares about flats,” she said, fluffing her hair. “Who has my purse?”
As Jane held it up, there was a knock at the door.
“It’s open!” Roxie yelled, shuffling across to the breakfast—closer to lunch—tray on the table.
The hotel staff were attentive. She grabbed her juice to down the rest of it, assuming the visitor would take the mess away. But, no, Astrid peeked around the door.
“Mm,” Roxie said, swallowing the liquid. “Astrid, honey, come in, come in. You know my roommates?”
The assistant slunk into the room and was particular about closing the door properly.
“We’ve never met.” Her usual forward self, Toria strode over, hand outstretched. “Victoria Lovell, I would trade lives with you in a heartbeat.”
The declaration startled Astrid.
Rushing over, Roxie put an arm around Toria to ease her away. “Let’s give Astrid some room,” she said and squinted at the uncomfortable woman. “I’m sorry about my crazy friends. What do you need?”
“Oh, uh…” Astrid tried to pull back her professionalism. “We don’t have a checkout time, we—”
“Because Zairn pays for an extra night wherever he stays, relieving pressure on hotel staff,” Jane said, appearing at Roxie’s side.
“And leaves at least a four-figure tip to each member of staff who tends to him and his group,” Toria added. “Only a limited number of staff are allowed to his floors. He uses people he’s had before or those who are recommended.”
“Sometimes he brings in his own people,” Jane said. “He’s really particular about who gets near to him.”
“Okay, you two…” Roxie said, hooking an arm around Jane’s waist too. “Stop freaking people out. Astrid doesn’t care about your fetishes for her boss. What do you need, Astrid? Do you want me to kick these two to the curb? We’re going out anyway.”
“Oh,” Astrid said, apparently surprised. “I came down to find out if your luggage is ready. It goes to the airport ahead of us.”
She didn’t get it. Neither did her friends.
“We’re going out,” Toria said.
“Yeah, our flight isn’t until tomorrow,” Jane said.
Toria gasped. “Oh my God, Rox is not coming home with us! Of course she’s not! She’s going off into the sunset with Zairn.”
“The sunset,” Roxie scoffed.
“Did you get an itinerary?” Astrid asked. “Tibbs never drops the ball… We’re wheels up in two hours.”
“Wherever you’re going, I can catch up,” Roxie said. “I pay the extra for transferable tickets.”
“No!” Toria called. Both roommates rushed around in front of her. “You get to fly on a private plane.”
“Not just any private plane, the Zee-Jet!”
Her friends were bubbling with excitement. Being out of the loop was getting to be a familiar sensation. “I don’t know what that is.”
“Uh…” Astrid said, attracting everyone’s attention. “It’s not the Zee-Jet. We’re traveling on the company—”
“The Crimson Craft?” Toria screeched. “That’s where someone signed his first Marvel contract and where a certain reality star got impregnated.”
“I’m so disappointed you won’t see the Zee-Jet,” Jane said. “No pictures exist from inside it. It’s like super top secret.”
“So why did you think he’d let me on it?” Roxie asked.
“Because he’s said in interviews like ten times that he prefers his jet over the larger company one… The Boeing Triple Seven is on permanent loan to Crimson.”
“Yeah,” Toria said. “Because Zairn’s network is better than their marketing department.”
“Than any marketing department anywhere ever,” Jane said, laughing and looping an arm through Toria’s. “I wonder if he gets commission.”
Their knowledge was incredible. They’d always been Crimson fans, but she had a feeling they’d studied up after getting tickets for Talk at Sunset.
“Okay, now we’ve figured that out,” Roxie said, none the wiser. “Just email me what I need to know, Ast. I’ll get a flight tomorrow.”
“Let me call Tibbs,” Astrid said, plucking her phone from her pocket.
“You do what you gotta do, baby,” Roxie said to Astrid then switched to address her friends. “I’m going to grab a jacket and then we’ll leave.”
Returning to her room, she tried one jacket and settled on another. She tucked her oversized sunglasses into her cleavage to free her hands so she could put on sun protection. That took a good five minutes, but it was necessary, and her friends would understand.
Satisfied, Roxie washed her hands and went to join the others.
“Tibbs says he’s on with London,” Astrid said.
Roxie took her purse from Jane to loop the long strap across her body. “He who?”
“Who?” Jane said, laughing. “Zairn!”
“Oh, right. That doesn’t matter,” Roxie said, retrieving her Chapstick from a pocket in her purse. “I don’t need him. I just need to know what city you want me in.”
Just as she tucked the Chapstick away, her phone began to ring. An unfamiliar number flashed on the screen, but she answered it anyway.
“Hello?”
“It’s always trouble,” the male on the other end of the line said.
She frowned. “Who is this?”
“Do a lot of random men call you, Lola?”
Oh, well, that answered her question.
“I thought you were a busy bee,” she said, sauntering across the living room into her bedroom again. “Being all international GQ businessman.”
“I ended the call when I found out there was a kink in travel plans.” The deep hum of his words wasn’t angry. They were effortless, smooth, like the rest of him. “Do you know how long it’s been since I let anyone hold me up?”
“Who’s holding you up? I’ll follow. You go on, be wherever you need to be.”
“You got a date tonight?” he teased.
“No,” she droned, rolling her eyes upward. “Not with a guy anyway. It’s my last vacation day with my roommates. We’re going to catch a star tour and then a movie.”
He didn’t need all that information, but, hey, she had nothing to hide either.
“You want me to stay in California another night so you can go to the movies?”
Was it possible he was trying to rile her by not listening or did his arrogance cause selective deafness?
“No one told you to stay anywhere, Skippy,” she stated. “Look on the bright side, without me on your tail, you can use your top-secret jet instead of your public one.”
“My top-secret jet?”
“The one you prefer flying in.”
“It’s in New York.”