He smiles a blistering grin before shaking his head. After pacing to the far right-hand side of the room, he opens a previously closed door. “That’s my room.” He hooks his thumb at the door he just opened.
“You got us interconnecting rooms?!” My walloping heart makes my question come out with a quiver. It can’t be helped. Half of me is excited, whereas the other half is petrified. I’ll never avoid the revolving door of groupies coming in and out of his room now.
“I don’t think this is a good idea.” My comment wipes the smile right off his face. “I… umm…” I try to think of a way I can explain to him that this is a bad idea without informing him I don’t want to witness his man-whore lifestyle firsthand.
Before I break through even a minute portion of the cloud fogging my head, Slater moves to stand in front of me. He cups my cheek, weakening my defenses with a pair of brown eyes that are oh so familiar, yet oh so painful to peer at without seeing how much I hurt him.
Mistaking the moisture looming in my eyes as disgust about his rock star lifestyle, he says, “I don’t bring groupies back to my room.”
I want to say his words give me comfort, but that would be a lie. Just because he doesn’t bring groupies into his room doesn’t mean he won’t find other places to accommodate them—such as stage curtains at an arena.
Angry I am unable to maintain his eye contact, air whizzes out of Slater’s nose before he strides to the interconnecting door separating our rooms. Upon entering, his gaze returns to mine. “This will also ensure you don’t do anything stupid like you did last night.”
When he slams the door shut, my pulse skyrockets. Now everything makes sense. He didn’t get us side by side rooms because he wants me closer to him. He did it so he can keep an eye on me and to ensure the warning he gave Sonny and the rest of the road crew stays enforced.
Growling, I march to the door, my angry strides only stopping when Melanie steps in my way. “Let’s think about this first.” When I try to sidestep her, she steps back into my path. “You wanted proof he still has feelings for you. Here’s your proof. Look around, Kylie. You can’t get any more obvious than this.” She waves her hand around our opulent surroundings.
“He doesn’t have feelings for me. He just doesn’t wantanyone elsehaving them.”
Melanie rolls her eyes. “Oh, that’s right. Only guys who don’t want us pay thousands of dollars for a hotel room per night.”
“Thousands?”
Nodding, she enters the sunken living area. I follow after her, equally shocked and a smidge excited. When I join her on one of the three black leather sofas, I take in our surroundings with more diligence. There’s no doubt it’s a top-of-the-range suite. It has all the bells and whistles you’d expect for a rock star, except it isn’t for a rock star. It’s for me, the rock star’s publicist’s personal assistant.
Noticing my grimace, Melanie laughs. “No amount of jealousy has a man forking out this much money. He’s into you. He’s just a stubborn little fuck… like someone else I know.”
“Shut up.” I slap her arm since I can’t slap the sarcasm off her face, even though I have an inkling she’s right. I’m sure it’s costing Slater a fortune for me to stay here, so maybe there’s more than jealousy at play. “What are you doing here anyway? Miss me enough to brave rush hour traffic for a visit?”
Melanie’s parents live an hour from San Francisco, so a pop in visit isn’t implausible, but I have a feeling she’s been missing me as much as I’ve missed her. We were together twenty-four-seven the past two years, so it’s been a huge adjustment not having her attached to my hip.
Melanie munches on her bottom lip as her mischievous eyes turn to me. “Slater brought me here.” Her voice is more mature than her twenty-three years, so it’s more shocking than her confession. “He thought I’d be a good influence on you.” Her lips twitch into a mischievous grin. “He picked the wrong friend!”
Her laugh is infectious. I should be mad Slater thinks I need a babysitter, but it’s the last emotion I’m feeling. If Slater thinks Melanie will settle me down, he’s starkly underestimated Melanie. She’s hell on wheels and creates havoc everywhere she goes, and she has no qualms about it either.
Melanie jumps onto the leather sofa like Tom Cruise did during his Oprah interview. With her arms thrown above her head, she squeals, “Let’s show these fuckers how to party!”
Jumping off the sofa, she heads to the bar at the side of the living room. The glass shelves are full to the brim with liquor. When she opens a bottle without checking how much it cost, I rush toward her.
“You can’t drink anything you want! A mini bar bottle costs a fortune, so imagine how much a whole bottle costs?”
When I attempt to snatch the bottle from her grasp, she yanks it out of my reach. With a roll of her eyes, she sashays to the door that connects my room with Slater’s. After three brisk knocks, Slater opens the door. His eyes are still holding their earlier anger, but it’s dimmed—somewhat.
“Can we drink this?” Melanie shoves her beverage of choice into his face.
My pulse beeps in my neck when he peers past her shoulder to me standing dumbfounded in the living room. “You can drink anything you want.” I nearly smile until he adds on, “As long as you do it in this room.”
I snarl at him, baring teeth, but before I can issue one of the many derogatory words filtering through my head, Melanie slams the door in his face.
Chapter Fifteen
Slater
When blaring music thuds from next door for the third night in a row, it dawns on me that I picked the wrong friend to watch Kylie. I tracked down Melanie after collecting my bike from Sonny. He made it pretty fucking obvious he has no intention of backing down on his pursuit of Kylie, so drastic action had to be taken.
There’s no chance in hell I’ll ever allow Kylie to be with a douchebag like him. People think drummers are bad, but we’re nothing compared to the scum of the roadies crew. Sonny is lucky he’s still employed after the stunt he pulled Sunday night. If our tour wasn't plagued with useless crew members previously, I wouldn’t have hesitated to fire him. But, as much as it sucks to admit, he’s good at his job. He just needs to learn to back the fuck off when instructed.
Jenni supplied me with Melanie’s contact details because she added her and Kylie as friends on Facebook. I didn’t miss the curious sparkle in her eyes when she handed me her personal information. When I called Melanie, she thought I was pranking her. It was only after I recited the entire playlist from our current CD did she finally believe it was me.
