Page 4 of Animal Beats

When UC flew to Europe, though, Tracey and I switched. Lucky duck is sitting in her nice home, wherever that is, while I’m about to face a police station in Rome. Should’ve realized with Bennett’s issues sorted, the quiet wouldn’t last.

Still. Río did not have to cause a riot. A riot. Who does this? Only the most unpredictable band member known to mankind, that’s who. Damn man won’t even wear a shirt onstage. Or off it if he can help it. Swimming buck naked in the Trevi Fountain, however, has to be a first.

At least my parents won’t ever hear about this mess. And my sister is shielded too.

Okay, Hayden, stop complaining and start prepping a plan. This job pays all my bills. A vision of the last tuition invoice I received from the school flits through my mind. Inheritance money is running low, and paying the next installment will have to come out of my earnings. Their money paid for my education and kept my sister at her school. Time for me to step up. Which means earning my keep and cleaning up whatever Río’s done.

I grab my Italian purse, the only purchase I’ve allowed myself on this leg of the tour, and lock my hotel room. In the lobby, I ask for directions to the police station, which thankfully is only a ten-minute walk away. I exhale. I don’t have to pay for a taxi. I guess there is that.

Along the way, I indulge myself in all the gorgeous Roman architecture. Despite the need to hurry, I pull out my cell and snap some photos, trying to capture the light and various angles. This place would be so inspiring but for the reason for this trek.

I take several more pictures, inhaling the delightful smells of an enticing pastry shop, before reaching the police station. Since Luke isn’t waiting for me outside, I enter and allow my eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. The band’s manager isn’t sitting in one of the chairs, either. I square my shoulders and approach the reception desk.

“Ciao. I’m here about River Sullivan.”

A lanky man, maybe in his early twenties, nods and consults his computer. “Let me take you to his assigned officer.”

Determined to keep using as much Italian as I can, I offer thanks in his language. “Grazie.”

We wind through relatively narrow hallways until I’m led into a small, empty conference room with only a blank legal pad on the table. “May I bring you caffè?”

I smile. “Per favore.” Something tells me caffeine is a necessity.

I take a seat, and click on some apps to try to find out more details about Río’s Great Adventure. Turns out, there’s quite a lot of information on the web. He seems to have led some sort of call-and-repeat at the fountain, with all the gathered tourists participating. Acting like a wild American, he stripped bare and dove into the water. As did many in the crowd—clothed, of course. Police came and broke up the riot. Río’s on video screaming he will pay any fines people incurred. Clicking on more videos taken by observers, I watch the entire story unfold from different angles.

Lovely.

What type of man would do this? Someone well outside my wheelhouse. Rather, outside all public decorum. Which only confirms this rulebreaker is the bane of my existence. Bennett, Tristan “Tris” Lambert, the new keyboardist, Cooper “Coop” O’Shea, the guitarist, and Pierce “007” DeLuca, the bassist, certainly never would do anything remotely like Río’s outrageous behavior. Why haven’t they taught him any lessons?

I guess it’s up to me.

The cop from reception returns and gives me my coffee. “Wait here. Someone will be in to talk with you shortly.” He leaves me all alone with my thoughts.

I sip my good coffee—even police stations here have better coffee than I can make—and let my mind review all the information about what led to Río’s arrest. Time to focus on how to turn all this around. Such a black stain on UC’s reputation can’t stand. I latch on to something Río said about paying everyone’s fines. This nugget could help me spin the negative tide. I hope.

I start to craft a strategy, based upon this singular fact. I don’t think we need to say how much money we’ll be paying. No, I can leave that to reporters to figure out. The spin I want to overlay is responsibility. How UC takes care of its fans, no matter what.

Especially if one of the band members started it.

Grabbing the pad in my new purse, I jot down my idea. However, paying for fines is well and good, but not enough when the drummer managed to also start a riot. How much should I bet he was drinking, too? My eyes shut. The headline, Drunk and Disorderly in the Trevi Fountain, hasn’t hit the airwaves yet. I vow to ensure it never does.

I take my final sip of the delicious coffee and refocus on my task. Another bullet point is added to my pad about playing up the call-and-repeat aspect. Perhaps overlaying it with Bennett’s part of the show where he does the same? Or, should we ask the lead singer to turn this segment of the show over to Río, in a nod to this ridiculousness? I make a note to ask Luke.

My next focus is on the word “riot.” Río may be many things, but no way did he start a riot. He must’ve encouraged people to have harmless fun. There wasn’t any looting or fights or stampeding. Rather, a large group was shouting in a tight, controlled environment. Okay. That might be overstating things a tad. I write down “harmless fun.”

As for the naked piece? Damn man is usually shirtless, but photos show—in minute detail—Río wasn’t wearing a stitch of clothing. Even though it was midday in Rome, it wasn’t that hot. How can this small detail be redirected? My eyes wander back to a still shot of the drummer in all of his glory and amend. Not small.

Hayden!

If I can’t refute he was naked, perhaps I can spin it as he was getting into the spirit of things? Ugh. My head shakes. Maybe let the photos speak for themselves. It’s not like there’s an ounce of fat on the man. I stifle a snort. Comparing him to Michelangelo would not be where I would take this—however, if some media outlet did, I wouldn’t contradict them...

The door swings open. Luke barrels into the conference room, his shoulder-length light brown hair hanging loosely around his attractive face. Coffee-colored eyes take in the entire room at a glance. “Where is he?”

“I haven’t seen him yet. I was led to this conference room and told someone would be here shortly.” I consult the clock. “That was fifteen minutes ago.”

Luke pulls back a chair and sits. “I’ve been online and seen the headlines. What more do you know?”

“Nothing really. I’ve read the articles and watched a few of the videos. I haven’t spoken with Río or anyone who was at the Trevi Fountain.” At least I didn’t say riot.