AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Hi. Hello.” The voice of America’s newest sweetheart washed over the auditorium as Tarryn King hurried toward us. She already had her slender hand outstretched to greet us, and I took my time in accepting. “It’s so nice to meet you guys. So sorry to have kept you waiting.”
“It’s fine,” I grunted, quickly pulling my hand back after a brief handshake.
But it wasn’t fine. I had to piss, my leg was killing me, and the only thing I’d had to eat since waking up was half a stale bagel from the sorry-looking buffet table backstage. My patience was nonexistent at this point, and I knew I was letting that show in my stony glare and crossed arms.
Tarryn smiled apologetically. “My friend is having a hard time, making her way here, so I had to send someone to Penn Station to get her, and—”
“Whatever. It’s fine,” I cut her off abruptly.
She pinned her bottom lip between her teeth and dropped her gaze immediately from mine, looking about as pitiful as a lost puppy. But if she thought for a second that I was going to feel sorry for her and forgive her tardiness, she had another thing coming. She might not take her job seriously, but I valued my time, no matter how washed up of a rock star I might be, and she had made me wait thirty minutes too long.
Tarryn turned from me and offered Chastity a little wave. “Sorry,” she said in a small voice I knew I had put there.
I wasn’t particularly proud of it, but I didn’t let it show. I kept it hidden, along with the pain in my leg and the hunger in my stomach, as I waited for Chastity to finally run us through our lines.
***
“Okay, but really, was it completely necessary for you to be such a dick?” Greyson asked, sitting on the couch in my hotel suite. “She had some shit going on. It happens.”
“We all have shit to deal with,” I replied, remembering the events from four years ago, while grabbing another slice of pizza from Greyson’s in-laws’ restaurant. “Doesn’t give her the excuse to disregard other people.”
I leaned back in my chair and took a big bite. The cheese stretched before snapping, hanging from my mouth. I pinched the end of the delicious, greasy string and brought it to my mouth, enjoying every last inch of it.
God, I loved New York pizza. I always had—hell, who didn’t? But I’d really learned to appreciate it after having pizza in every other part of the country. Now, nothing else compared.
Nothing came close to home.
“Yeah, but I mean …” Simon shrugged and let whatever he was going to say hang at the tip of his tongue and then disappear.
It was just as well.
I hadn’t wanted to hear it anyway.
After finishing my fourth slice, I leaned back in my chair, ready to close my eyes for five minutes and relax before the whirlwind of the day began again. Just five minutes to enjoy a bit of silence and think about the Shake Shack I was going to eat later. But the door to my room swung open, and my eyes snapped toward it to watch as Mitch walked in, pushing a cart of garment bags.
“Good evening, ladies. Time to get you red-carpet ready,” he said in a voice that made all of us groan and roll our eyes.
“It’s only four o’clock, man,” Simon pointed out.
“Right, and the red carpet rolls out at six,” Mitch replied, already beginning to pull garment bags from off the rack. He handed two to Greyson. “Get upstairs. You and Zach have to get ready.”
“Zach just went back to Famiglia Bella,” Greyson replied, a blank look on his face.
Mitch blinked slowly before replying, “The man has been your husband for how long now, and he still doesn’t know how this shit works yet?”
“But … it’s four—”
“Go,” Mitch demanded, and Greyson trudged his way out the door like a scolded child, letting it slam behind him.
Simon and I were sharing a suite, not by any choice of mine. The guys and Mitch had insisted on it, not trusting me alone. Not believing I wouldn’t hurt myself in the shower or on my way into bed or some shit like that. And hell, maybe they were right. I didn’t know this hotel or how their bathrooms had been laid out. But it didn’t piss me off any less that my friends were determined to treat me like a baby.
To prove my point, Mitch handed me a garment bag with my name on it. “Can you manage okay by yourself, or do you—”
“I think I can handle getting dressed, thanks,” I fired at him. “I’ve done it every fuckin’ day for the past thirty-somethin’ years.”
“Yeah, but … I don’t know, man. I’m just asking—”
“I’mfine,” I muttered through gritted teeth before laying the bag on my lap.
