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My room is nice even if it’s not as big as some of the suites I’ve had so far. There’s a chaise longue at the foot of my bed, a cool antiquey-looking wardrobe next to the door leading to my ensuite bathroom, a minibar, and a small sitting area in front of a large window on the other side of the room.
Wandering over to the window first, I snap a few pictures of the view and a couple selfies where I stick my head out to get my face in with the view. Even though I’m not really feeling it, I give the camera a huge, excited grin.
This is what I do. This is what people want to see. Me being happy, funny. No one wants to know that I’m fucking fuming inside or that my life isn’t all sunshine and daisies all the damn time. They don’t care that my brother, who is also my best friend, feels more out of reach than he ever has before.
Don’t get me wrong. I love Emma and I’m fucking thrilled that she and Maxim have finally gotten together, but my true circle is a small one, and Maxim’s always been a big part of it. With him gone… I’m more alone than I have been in a long time, maybe even ever.
I thought that once we got overseas, he and I would get to spend some more time together. While we were back in the States, he was so busy that even before Emma showed up, I hardly got to see him outside of work stuff. Then she arrived, they sorted out their shit, and I saw even less of him.
Which was fine. We had the whole international leg of the tour coming up, and I was pretty sure things would be calmer for him here. He’s been planning the tour for the better part of a year, and with everything going smoothly so far and him having gotten into the groove of things, I thought we’d be able to hang out sometimes while Emma writes during the day.
So far, that plan looks like a bust. If he’s not in the room next to mine, I don’t even know where he is. I’m not just pouting about it for the sake of pouting either. Maxim is one of the only people who really knows me—him and the other Full Moon kids—but my brother has always been closer to me than any of the others.
I’m not asking anyone to cry for me, but it’s hard getting close to people when you’re in our position. At least Maxim’s always had Emma and she’s never cared about who his father is, but not all of us have been lucky enough to have a friend like her.
I know I just need to adjust to this new reality, but it’s been a bit of a rocky landing. It’s still a bit of a rocky fucking landing.
To the world, I’m a charmer. A social butterfly—online and off. I’m always smiling, always laughing and making smartass comments, but these days, I’m not feeling like myself. I’m… unsettled. And I don’t fucking like it.
As I walk around the room, I take a few more random snapshots. One of the wardrobe, one of the claw foot of my bath, and a few others that I think I might be able to spin into something interesting. Kicking off my shoes when I’m done, I jump back and land on the pile of pillows on my bed.
After elbowing a few out of the way to get comfortable, I lift my phone and scroll through the latest pictures in my gallery. One of the selfies from when I stuck my head out the window has some of the more well-known landmarks of the city in the background, so I choose it to start my first post along with a pic I took of the band disembarking from the plane. It’s a good one even if I say so myself.
You can’t see their faces since I was walking behind them, but Dad, Max, John, and Tim were all walking side by side down the tarmac, laughing about something stupid one of them had said. After applying a black-and-white filter to the picture, I blur the background and hit upload.
The two pictures appear on my newsfeed along with the caption:Guess who’s touched down? London, are you ready?
Usually, I’d try to think of something wittier, but that’s going to have to do for now. Within seconds, new notifications start popping up as people comment and react to my post. Seeing the excitement makes me smile a little despite my shitty mood. This is why I love my job. I feed on people’s happiness like a drug, and my dad and the guys make their fans fucking ecstatic.
They may be older now, but people still love them just as much as they used to. Their music is still great, and their performances are still the stuff legends are made of. Plus, they’ve never lost touch with their fan base, and people love them for it.
As I interact with a few of their followers, I can practically feel the tension flowing out of my muscles. When I upload the rest of the pictures I took of my room, adding a few funnier captions about how vicious the claw on my tub looks and how I wished I had some Victorian-era clothing to put in the wardrobe, I finally relax fully.
So what if Olivia is my least favorite person and she’s next to me for a week? We’ll be gone from here soon enough, and then things will go back to normal. Maxim and Emma will be my neighbors again, and Olivia will be on an entirely different story of the hotel.
The balance will be restored, and all will be well with the world. Besides, I warned her about the noises that would be coming out of my room. If she wants to keep a fucking scorecard, I’d better make sure she designates me as summa cum laude. All the puns that typically stem from that term intended.
2
OLIVIA
Istare dreamily out the window ofmyroom, taking in sights so many people will only ever see in pictures or postcards. Big Ben. The London Eye. The Palace of Westminster and the Thames. I’ve always considered myself lucky to travel as extensively as we do even if this kind of lifestyle isn’t for everyone.
We’ve been in London a few times over the years, but the city never fails to amaze me. This time is no different despite the fact that my brief standoff with Vincent soured my mood.
As we bantered back and forth, I realized that although I’m glad I accepted the assignment so I can finally start proving myself, I still don’t have any clue how I’m going to go about keeping an eye on him without him cottoning on to what I’m doing. I briefly considered just asking him if I could tag along later when he goes out, but considering how angry he got over me staying in this room, I figured it was a lost cause.
I’m just going to have to hope that an opportunity presents itself, but come hell or high water, I’m sticking to him like white on freaking rice. It’s a beautiful day outside, the air crisp and the sky a clear, bright blue. I have no doubt that Vincent is going to go out later. He’s not the type to let a day like this pass him by. All I have to do is to figure out how to go with him.
As if the universe itself is trying to tell me I’m on the right track, I hear a sudden roar of laughter from his room. Once the laughter subsides, I perk up when I recognize some of the voices coming through the wall.My brother and the other boys are over there.
This is the chance I’ve been waiting for. Vincent may not like me very much, but the rest of them do. If they’re with him, it won’t look as suspicious if I show up.
Getting up, I smooth out my skirt and head for the door, intent on taking the in I’ve been given. Vincent’s door is open, and it looks like all the other boys except Maxim are in his room. I let out a soft sigh when I notice he’s missing. Maxim is like our communal big brother. If he were here, he would make sure that Vincent doesn’t try to ditch me.
Vincent’s lying in the middle of a gigantic pile of pillows on his bed, a beer in his hand and his head thrown back as he laughs at something someone said before I got here. Mason, my little brother, is sitting on one of the armchairs in the sitting area with this dorky grin on his face and his chest puffed out with pride. It’s immediately obvious to me that he’s the one who made Vincent laugh. The kid idolizes the asshole. If he’s looking so happy and proud of himself, I’m sure it’s because he said something that Vincent deemed funny enough.
Part of me wants to roll my eyes, but Mason looks so damn proud that I can’t help but feel a little bit happy for him. I don’t value Vincent’s opinion, but he sure does.
