Page 72 of Animal Beats

“Well, if you ask me, no one can contain him and it was crazy of Luke to ask it of you. I’m sure the rest of the guys will step up. You’re here to do PR, not work miracles.”

The cab stops at Kieron’s floor and he exits. I stew over what he said all the way up to Río’s floor. He’s right. No one can stop the drummer from doing what he wants—namely drink. Still, he was sober under my watch. It has to count for something.

Not for Bennett’s bet, though.

Nor for my idea of supplementing my income with a UC photo journal to sell as merch.

Mila, I’ll get the money you need without the bet. Somehow. I’m sorry I brought Río into your life.

Using my key, I enter the suite and dump all my things into my suitcase. No way will I stay here, especially if he’s going to bring that woman from the boat back here tonight.

While I’m packing, I make a mental list of what needs to be done. Get my own hotel room. Talk with Nina. Send out the press release. Seek reassurance from Renata.

Pray the label has a sense of humor.

21

RÍO

“Go in there and get ready for tonight’s gig,” Coop pushes me toward the door.

“What if she’s in there?”

“I doubt she will be. If she is, talk to her. Tell her what happened. When you sober up, we’ll ask Elias to get you a new number so your mother won’t call you again.”

“I didn’t think of that. Thanks, man!” I crush the guitarist to my chest in a hug. Manly, bro hug, of course.

Coop steps back. “Do you want me to go inside to check if the coast is clear?”

“Nah. I’m not a pussy.”

“Dude.” My best friend holds out his fist, which I bump on the third try. He shouldn’t move it so much!

After I let myself into the room, I call out, “Babysitter?”

Nothing. Silence. Coop was right—she’s not here.

Good.

She gave my number to Mother, who immediately hit me up for money. After not talking for a decade, the first thing she does is ask for dough. No thanks!

I walk into my bedroom, and none of Hayden’s things are here, not even her suitcase. Smart woman. She knew when it was time for her to leave.

To be safe, I check out the extra bedroom and bathrooms, and it’s the same. She’s well and truly gone.

Good.

Who needs her?

With her strawberry blond hair that smelled of oranges.

Not me.

Who cares that she claimed to see the real me. She met Pop and agreed he was an asshole. So what? Anyone on the planet would agree to this fact.

I certainly don’t need her understanding looks or sexy sighs in bed when I made her come over and over.

Standing at the fridge, I open the door where only sodas and lemonade are inside. Damn babysitter. Well, I have had more than my share today. Better sleep off some of this before our gig tonight.