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The maid jumped, her expression shocked, and put her hand on her chest. "Bloody hell, mate. My old ticker's not made for this."
"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." He nodded back at the bed. "Did you see the lady leave?"
"Sorry, can't help you, room was empty when I got this far, didn't see anyone."
He nodded, thanking her. Outside in the corridor, he saw two of Clayton's entourage emerging from a room farther down the hallway. The woman waved and said something about the night before. He returned the wave but turned away quickly. He was far too annoyed with himself to exchange pleasantries.
Running a hand through his hair he worked back through what had happened the night before, everything that had been said. All he knew was that her name was Kelly. That was it. He cursed himself for the way he'd handled it. The situation had to be blamed for making him lose any sense of reality, though. What happened between them had been crazy. He hadn't been able to think straight, only act on instinct, and now he had no clue where or who the hell she was.
"Nice going, bozo," he muttered, as he descended the stairs.
* * * *
"And then," Helen paused to grin, "when he came out for the final encore, he'd taken the shirt off." She fanned herself with one hand, holding out her phone for Jojo in the other. A blurred picture of Clayton Warren was captured on the screen.
Kelly looked on and smiled wryly to herself.
"Details, details." Jojo's eyes gleamed as she stared at the blur and waited for Helen to describe Clayton's stage appearance just one more time.
Helen obliged the request with pleasure, cataloguing Clayton's physique in detail.
Kelly poured them another glass of wine, trying to avoid staring at the pins poking out of Jojo's leg. She'd just about die, if she had to sit around looking at that on the end of her leg. Not only was she addicted to exercise, she couldn't actually sit still for any length of time. Easily bored, she quickly turned obnoxious when kept indoors. She was a monster when she had a head cold, let alone a full-blown injury. Jojo was being incredibly patient, and they'd been doing their best to keep her entertained.
"Why don't you ask Kelly," Helen said. "She got to see him up close and personal, backstage."
Kelly started when Helen's comment reached her. She glanced up from her wineglass, her mind filled with the image of Clayton "up close and personal backstage." She laughed to herself. "Oh, Helen is so much better at describing him than I am."
Jojo nodded. "Thanks for trying to get me the autograph, you're a star."
"She was a woman on a mission," Helen said. "If anyone could have done it, Kelly could."
Kelly smiled. "But I failed." She said it with a sigh and a depth of emotion that was based more on her interaction with Tommy than with Clayton.
"Was he as gorgeous up close?" Jojo's eyes were sparkling. She was practically in heat, just thinking about Clayton.
Oh, the irony, thought Kelly. "He was very attractive, but I'm no good at this. He's not my type," she offered, as an excuse. He's not your type either, she mused. She wasn't tempted to share the information, though. What was the point of shattering Jojo's dream? Besides, it was a secret, and, like she had told Tommy, she wasn't the sort of woman to break the code on real, deep and meaningful secrets.
"Kelly doesn't like metrosexuals," Helen commented.
Jojo frowned. "What the hell is a 'metrosexual'?"
"You know, a bloke that looks after his appearance, reads magazines, does skin care, that sort of thing. He might be a rock god but Clayton Warren looks after himself. I could tell."
Jojo looked relieved. "Oh, right." She glanced at Kelly, smiling. "Yes, you do like them a bit more rugged than that, don't you? So, tell us, was this hunky security man rugged enough for you?" She waggled her eyebrows, shifting in her chair to get more comfy for the story.
He hadn't been far from her mind anyway, but he was back in full detail now. "Oh yes, he was rugged all right."
"She's been moping around all day," Helen said. "I think she should go after him. I've never seen her like this, have you?"
"She's definitely got a pout on," Jojo agreed, swigging her wine.
"Stop talking about me as if I'm not here."
"You might as well not be," Helen commented. "You're pretty fixed on this bloke, aren't you?"
"No," she responded, indignant.
Helen snorted.
