CHAPTER THREE
ROYCE
“And?” I watch Ava standing beside the window, hiding behind the drapes while she tries to venture a peek outside without being seen herself.
“They’re leaving. Dude, I think he did it. They’re really taking off.” She skips away from the window and comes flying toward me so fast I barely have time to hold out my arms and catch her. “Are you in love with him yet? Because I am! He makes coffee, has a smile to die for and he can efficiently chase off the paparazzi! What more could a boy ask for?”
I put her back down before she knocks us both over with her enthusiasm. “How many extra shots did you get in that fucking coffee?”
“Five. Why?”
“Because you’re running around here like Tigger on Red Bull. Simmer the fuck down before you break something.” I catch her by her hoodie just as she's attempting to zip off again.
“You’re no fun,” she pouts and pulls her phone out of her pocket.
“Calling Blaise for a ride?” Because there's no way I'm heading back out there on foot.
She makes a face. “No way. You know how pissed he’ll be when he finds out I wandered out of the hotel without security...and then wound up being swarmed by the media?” She shakes her head and continues to mutter on her way to the sofa. “One minor attack on your life by a crazy person and no one ever lets you do anything without a bodyguard.”
I smirk, although, it's only partially funny. I get where Blaise is coming from. I don’t think I’d ever get over almost seeing the love of my life get killed right in front of my eyes either. Then, I remember she still has her phone out and I rush after her.
“If you’re not getting ahold of Blaise, what are you doing with your phone?” I’m on standby, preparing to wrestle it from her grubby little hands if need be.
“Prank calling whoever is first up in my call log. Let’s see. Oh, sweet. It’s Francis.” Her assistant.
“Don’t you think Francis is going to know it’s you before she even answers? Caller Id and all that?” Too much caffeine on an empty stomach is turning Ava into a five-year-old. And not one who's particularly technically inclined.
She's busy giggling to herself and it takes me a second longer than it should have to realize why. She has Hudson’s home phone laying in her lap. No idea when she swiped it, but she's already done dialing and holding his phone up to her ear.
“Hello, is this that Francis biotch that’s been banging my husband?” she says in what is undoubtedly the worst Jersey accent in the history of accents. “What? How did you know it was me? Whatever. You suck. Yes, I had coffee on an empty stomach. What does that matter? Hello? Hello?” She looks up at me. “Francis hung up on me.”
I reach down and take the phone before she has a chance to dial anyone else. “Yeah, no fucking kidding. ”
Then the door opens, and Hudson is back. “You guys aren’t making long distance calls, are you? Starving artist here and I can’t afford that shit.” He grins
“Hey, starving artist,” Ava climbs over the back of the couch to stand next to me. If I didn’t know any better, I would swear she's shitfaced. “Any chance you have a car?”
He nods. “I do. But I doubt it’s up to your standards.”
“Ava doesn’t have any of those.”
She shoots me a dirty look, then sort of shrugs like she knows I'm right. After, she directs her attention back onto Hudson. “So, I was thinking, and you can totally say no, but, what if Royce and I borrowed your car and took it back to our hotel, since I’m guessing you can’t just abandon your shop...and then, whenever you get off, I could send a car for you and you could come and meet up with us wherever we’re at. I’d love to look at more of your work and talk about having you take some shots of the band. Actually, we have a show tonight. Maybe you could stay for that and I could see you in action. I’d pay you, obviously. For that, and the use of your car. And gas. And I’d feed you,” she rambles, and I can’t tell anymore if it’s from being high or fearing a rejection from Hudson because she knows if she blows it, I’ll never forgive her.
When he doesn’t say anything in response, and actually turns away, I have to throw my hand up over her mouth to keep her from digging herself...and me...in deeper.
As luck would have it, he comes back around to face us while I'm still smothering her.
Holding out his keys and cocking one brow, he says, “You guys have a weird relationship. You know that, right? ”
We nod. “We do.” Isn’t ‘til I hear Ava’s muffled response ring out at the same time as mine that I remember to drop my hand from her mouth.
“Thanks. This is huge, you have no idea.” Ava clutches the car keys to her chest, extensively exaggerating her level of gratitude.
“Sure. Although I don’t really get why you would rather take my shitty old Ford over having one of your limos come and pick you up.” He doesn’t seem like he minds. Just like he’s curious. And who wouldn’t be?
“Her boyfriend doesn’t know that she wandered off yet, so she can’t call him for help. By the way, Ava, where does he think you’ve been all morning?”
She smiles. “With you.”
Fucking awesome. “He knows that you came to see me, but not that you did so on your way out?”
“Mm-hm.”
“So, when we get back and he finds out you were gone this whole time –“
“I’m going to act wide-eyed and innocent and tell him you required coffee and, as your manager, aka personal slave, I had no choice but to venture out and find you some even if it meant I had to risk being attacked by crazy people.” She's doing the wide-eyed thing already. Except she never looks fucking innocent. And even Blaise, safe in the buffer of his love bubble, can see that.
“Well, thanks for that, friend. Just so you know, I’m going to start hanging out with Derek more. I’ll get into a lot less trouble that way. ”
She nods toward Hudson who's silently watching us as if we're an improv duo putting on a routine for him. “You’ll also meet a lot less sexy baristas that way.”
Point taken. Even if it does make Hudson and I both avert our eyes and clear our throats uncomfortably.
“Anyway, you’ve got my keys. I better get back down to the store.” He points at the stairs in case we forgot where it was.
“Wait, I need your number, so I can set everything up for this evening.” Ava pulls her phone from her pocket, finger hovering over the screen waiting for him to rattle it off.
“Two-one-five. Five-five-five. Seven-eight-three-two.”
“Got it. Thanks.”
He starts down the stairs and we follow him. Hudson takes us all the way to the door, then smiles shyly and hesitates before he takes my hand. “It was really great to meet you. Hope I get to see you again later.”
I nod, grinning and unable to stop or tone it down even remotely. “Definitely. Thanks again. For everything. Although, if you ever make Ava a coffee that strong again, I’m leaving her with you.”
He chuckles. “Got it.”
Ava throws her hands around his neck as if she’s known him forever, or at least longer than thirty minutes. “You’re going to love me, Hudson. Just wait and see.” She winks and gives him a quick peck on the cheek before she lets him go.
“I believe it, Ava.” And it actually sounds like he means it. Damn, if we didn't scare him off with all of our bickering and weird fucking behavior, he isn’t just cute as hell, he's a fucking miracle .
We find his Ford parked along the sidewalk just outside the shop and get in.
“You’re welcome, by the way.” She’s busy putting on her seatbelt in the most cheerful manner anyone possibly could do such a mundane task.
“What am I thanking you for?” I put the key in the ignition and start it up.
“Um, hello?! I just scored you his number and a first date!” Then she leans back into the seat and rolls down her window, enjoying the breeze and giggling to herself. “Not like I couldn’t have arranged for a car without Blaise finding out about it.”
Shit. She's right. Fucking crazy, but right.
HUDSON
Trying to focus on work after Royce leaves is pretty fucking impossible. All I can think about is how long it’ll be before I hear from Ava. And that’s only because it means I’m one step closer to seeing Royce again.
Royce Lemmi. The whole thing still hasn’t completely sunk in. Talk about your entire life changing in the blink of an eye. Of course, it hasn’t actually changed yet. But the potential for change has definitely been unleashed. For all I know, I’m on the brink of a massive career shift for the better and, if I allow my fantasy to run wild with this, possibly on the verge of dating Royce fucking Lemmi – Finding Nolan’s bass player extraordinaire and the hottest man in rock and roll today.
But that’s fantasy. Or at least, that’s what I try to tell myself. Then, the more I think about him standing here in my apartment, remembering the way he smiled at me, flirted even, the less imaginary the whole thing feels and suddenly, I can’t help but believe myself when I start to think that I actually have a chance with him.