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“You didn’t have to pay for me,” I mumble, following her to the elevators.
She throws me a grin. “I didn’t. Work did.”
We stand outside of a hotel room waiting to be let in. I have a massive headache and I’m not really in the mood for socializing, but I figure I’ll stay for a little while and then collapse into bed.
The door swings open and we walk in. “Small gathering” is right. There’s like a handful of people here. Music plays softly in the background as people laugh and joke. I spy what looks like coke on the dresser by the bed and I shoot Lyndall a look. She shrugs as if she doesn’t know anything about it and encourages me to sit down. I do, on an oversized chair near the bed, despite the uneasy feeling rising in my stomach. She sits on my lap, and I look at her in surprise.
“They’re kind of short on chairs.” She shrugs as if it’s nothing, but my cock disagrees.
“Here, Man.” Someone shoves a beer in my hand, and even though it’s not my choice in drink, I twist the cap and take a mouthful my body relaxing against the comfort of the seat.
Maybe I just need to let go and forget about everything.
****
I feel like shit.
Groaning, I turn and crack my neck. My head pounds to the point where moving it isn’t an option. My whole body aches, even the hairs on my head.
What the fuck happened last night?
I don’t remember much, apart from the odd flashback of drinking way too much and participating in a few other activities I don’t normally do. Fuck, Sax. You know better than to mess with drugs. I made a mistake and I’m paying for it now.
What feels like hours later, I wake again. This time I feel like I have a little more control over my body. I try and roll over, the weight of my body pushing through layers of what feels like rubbish underneath me. I force my eyes open. It’s dark, but I can see the sunlight shining through a crack to the side of whatever is above me.
I take a deep breath and nearly vomit. The smell is unbearable, and I finally realize where I am. I’m in a fucking dumpster. Gasping, I push the lid off and climb out. I hunch over, wheezing as I try to breathe in some clean air.
I look around me, recognizing the structure in front of me. I’m out the back of the hotel. Relief washes through me, until I glance down and realize I’m naked.
Fuck. This isn’t good. I need to get inside and up to my room without being seen. But how the hell am I going to get inside my room with no fucking key? I reach into the dumpster and grab the first thing my hand hits; a grubby black plastic bag.
Wrapping it around my waist, I sneak over to the back door, praying that it’s open. My heart races as I pull the handle. It opens with ease.
Thank fucking god.
Somehow, I manage to navigate my way to Max’s floor without being seen. I reach his room and bang loudly until he opens it. His eyes widen when he sees me.
“What the fuck happened to you?” he asks, laughing.
“I wish I knew,” I mutter. “Can I use your shower and borrow some clothes?”
“I wish you would. You reek,” he replies, screwing up his nose.
I scowl at him and then head for the bathroom. I stand under the hot water for what feels like hours. I’m sure I still smell of trash but I don’t care. All I want to do is get into my room and get some sleep.
Max tries to talk to me once I’m dressed, but I’m not in the mood, mostly because I know that he’s going to say. I promise to make time for him later. I call up reception and explain I’ve lost my key. Young woman meets me at my room door with a new one. I thank her and go inside.
Walking over to the bed, I flop down, wishing the last twenty-four hours didn’t happened. I have no idea where my phone is, nor do I know what happened to Lyndall. The phone in my room rings. Gingerly, I lean over and answer it.
“What the hell happened to you?” Lyndall gasps. “You’re all over the news.”
Huh? I sit up and reach for the remote, hitting power. Sure enough, there I am in all my glory, passed out in the dumpster. Rock star out of control splashes across the bottom of the screen. Groaning, I turn it off.
I hadn’t even noticed the fucking paparazzi.
“I don’t remember anything,” I mutter. “And I’ve lost my phone.”
“I have it,” she replies. “I went to the bathroom and when I came back your phone was there but you weren’t. Are you okay?”
