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I slide the keycard in my door and hurtle myself into my suite and immediately do the thing I’ve been aching to do all night: I punch a hole in the wall. Because that’s what rockstar clichés do, right? They have drunken temper tantrums and trash their hotel rooms.
I can’t believe I’ve been jacking off, alone in my room, every night of this goddamned tour, foregoing every woman who’s slipped me her number, all because I’ve been waiting like a puppy for Laila to be single. For Kendrick to grow tired of waiting for Laila to be single. For Kendrick to do what he always does on every tour—slide into a tour “relationship” with some staffer or crew member—and thereby leave me to finally seduce Laila, boyfriend or not, without worrying that I’m betraying my best friend. The guy who believed in me, when nobody else did, changing my life forever.
My knuckles throbbing from punching the wall, I grab my phone and swipe into my contacts, looking for that waitress’ number. But, quickly, I realize I don’t want her. If Laila hadn’t been sitting there tonight, watching me flirt, I never would have bothered to get that number at all. The waitress was too thirsty for my taste. Just like that model in Barcelona who fucked me and kissed me and said all the right things on a night when I was feeling particularly lonely . . . and then took off with my wallet and made my dick an internet star.
I toss my phone onto the nightstand with a loud grunt, just before a wave of nausea seizes me. I stumble into the bathroom and wash my face with cold water, trying to stave off the inevitable. But it’s no use. Fuck.
I drop to my knees at the toilet and lose my fancy dinner and drinks into the bowl. When I’m finally empty, I wash my face again, brush my teeth, strip off my clothes, and stagger, naked, into the bedroom. I flop onto the bed, groaning as the room spins around me. As visions of Laila getting fucked by Malik ravage my drunken brain.
Ever since Philly, I’ve been busting my ass to be on time for Laila—to soundchecks and buses. As much as possible, anyway. Have I been perfect? No. Because, unfortunately, I get easily distracted sometimes. While, other times, I get hyper-fixated. Especially when writing a song, time ceases to exist for me. Which isn’t a great thing for time management. Plus, I try to say yes whenever Mimi wants to talk to me, even if the timing is terrible. So, yeah, I admit I’m not going to win any prizes for punctuality. But I have genuinely tried my best, and for only one reason: to make Laila like me.
But now, I realize I never should have bothered. No matter what I do, she’s always going to hate me and think I’m a selfish rockstar cliché—an asshole who doesn’t give a shit about anyone but himself. Well, fuck Laila Fitzgerald. If she thinks she’s already got plenty of reasons to hate me, then she ain’t seen nothing yet.
Thirteen
Laila
“Cut!” Maddy, the director of the music video, calls out. “That was perfect, ladies! Great job.”
I straighten up and let the baseball bat in my hand dangle at my side, as Reed’s girlfriend, Georgina, my co-star in this scene, does the same. We’re shooting on the street in front of the coffeehouse where we’ve been shooting throughout the day—a scene featuring Georgina and me bashing the hell out of an old sedan that’s supposedly owned by our two-timing boyfriend, played by hunky actor Keane Morgan.
Throughout this particular scene, Keane’s been looking on, horrified and helpless, as Georgina and I have smashed his car to smithereens. It’s the climactic final scene of our “love triangle” storyline. And I must say, it’s been my favorite to shoot. Talk about cathartic! The perfect release after my two fights last night. First, the one I had with Savage in front of the restaurant. And, later, the one I had with Malik in the car, when I soundly told him to fuck right off and never, ever call me again.
As it’s turned out, shooting this video was the perfect way to spend the day. The song is fantastic. The artist, Alessandra, sweet and talented. And the video concept is hilarious and adorable. Plus, it’s been fun seeing all the River Records artists who’ve dropped by to shoot their cameos. Surely, with everything this video has going for it, it’s going to become a viral sensation.
Not surprisingly, Savage was too busy banging his waitress to keep his word and come down here today. But, luckily for Alessandra, everyone else who gave their word to Reed last night, kept it.
Logically, I know I should have expected Savage to break his promise to Reed. And yet, somehow, my heart stupidly held onto hope he’d finally do something kind and selfless, for once in his life. If only for Fish, who’s a great and loyal friend to everyone. But I guess Savage is always gonna be Savage. A narcissist, through and through.
