Page 17 of Animal Beats

Río mutters, “Unusual?”

“However, how much time do you actually spend in your room? You’re always going to a gig or getting ready for one, or are out at one of the many publicity interviews I’ve set up. It won’t be too bad.”

“And if I pick up a groupie or two, you won’t be bothered?”

My entire being roils, but I manage not to let my face so much as twitch. “I’ll be in the second bedroom.” I consider for a moment and add, “Door open. In case you’re tempted to drink.”

“Oh.” The drummer takes a step back. “I didn’t peg you for a voyeur, but whatever floats your boat.”

“I’m not a—” I stop my protest. It doesn’t matter. So long as this idiot doesn’t get into the headlines and stays sober, I’ll be doing my job and collecting a nice payday thanks to Bennett. Keep your eyes on the prize, girl. “Think what you want. It’s my job to watch over you.”

His eyebrows wiggle. “I’ll be sure to make it worth your while.”

Seriously? I revise his mental age downward from eighteen to sixteen. “So long as you don’t drink or cause another scene, I don’t care what you do.” Or who.

Río’s chin ticks upward. “Challenge accepted.”

What have I gotten myself into? I snatch the keys from Luke’s hand. “Come on, let’s get settled in.” I pat myself on the back for not calling him a child. But the night’s still young.

We enter the gorgeous hotel and my breath stills. The artwork is amazing, and we’re only in the lobby. It’s almost a sacrilege to roll our luggage on the highly-polished marble floors. This place seems to have a history preceding it being a hotel. It probably was some noble-person’s home, which hosted royalty and balls back in the day. I stop. We’re in Spain. Perhaps Don Quijote stayed here. A laugh escapes as I pull out my phone and start taking photos.

“What’s so funny?”

I glance at Río and take his picture with the gorgeous walls in the background. “Don’t you ever wonder about the history of these amazing hotels?”

His brown eyes dart around the room. “Uhm. No.” He looks at me as if I were a bug on his drumhead, causing him to debate whether to save or squish it.

Not allowing him to make a decision, I shake my head. “Come on, let’s go to our room.” In my mind, I repeat what I just said. It is our room, but not our room. I correct myself. “Our two-bedroom suite.” Better.

Río joins me at the elevators and we rise to the top floor. I allow him to lead the way down the hallway, where he stops facing a room and opens it. His arm sweeps in front of him. “After you, Babysitter.”

Ignoring the irony of his stupid nickname for me, I sweep by him and am rewarded with a space that has to be twice my apartment in North Carolina. Maybe three times. I wander into the kitchen area, my fingers running over the full-size stainless-steel appliances, quartz countertops and a beverage bar that boasts both a Keurig and a wine fridge. A far cry from the mini refrigerators I’m used to in my rooms.

I glance over into what appears to be a dining room that could easily sit eight people, then walk into a living room. Standing in front of the gas fireplace, I soak up the opulence. If this is normal for UC, no wonder I can’t relate to them. It’s like they’re living lightyears away from regular people.

“Which room do you want?”

I turn to face Río, who I almost forgot was in here with me. “Huh?”

“I asked which room you wanted for yourself?”

“Oh. You take the larger one.” He is, after all, going to be performing in front of thousands. I’m sure I can sleep just fine in the smaller room—which has to be larger than any I’ve stayed in. Ever.

“Since I’ve never been here before, let’s check them out.”

He heads into one of the bedrooms, and I follow him. I stifle a gasp. It’s humongous, with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Gaudí’s still-unfinished cathedral, the Sagrada Familia. Two sets of doors hide closets and the bathroom. “This one is okay. Let’s look at the other one.”

“Okay?” I barely register his descriptor before he’s out of the room and heading across the way. If he brings a woman (hopefully only one!), the bedrooms are situated far apart, so there is that.

This room is decorated similarly, but it also has another fireplace and even larger screen television. Plus a fridge. “This one is better. I’ll stay here.”

“No arguments from me.” I turn to leave, but something makes me stop. I veer to my right. “Let me check the fridge and I’ll get out of your hair.”

“What? No.”

Río rushes to my side as I open the refrigerator to reveal tiny bottles of booze. “A for effort.” I collect the bottles and throw them into a nearby garbage bin. “Sober, remember?”

“Sober doesn’t mean I can’t drink,” he protests. “It only means I can’t get shitfaced.”