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“I thought you were getting us all to leave the party.”
He shakes his head, a smirk on his face. “No,” he says. “I just saw the eyes you were making at Javi and knew I needed you to get away from him.”
I blink. “What?”
“Look, he’s hot,” he says, waving his hands by his sides. “I don’t blame you. I would love to have an opportunity with him if I were you. But I can’t have that be the way the tour starts. Do you want to lose your investment, Al?”
My mouth goes dry. “I wouldn’t do anything stupid.”
“Oh, I know. One-drink Alana wouldn’t do anything stupid. Three-drink Alana, with altitude sickness and less oxygen than usual, I trust her a little less.”
“It’s very annoying that you’re sending me to my room. Can’t I just stay here?”
“No. Get some rest,” he says. “I saw the way he was looking at you, too.”
“He wouldn’t do anything stupid,” I say.
“Oh, and you know that because…”
“I don’t know. Just a vibe.”
“Right, well,” he replies. “I get the vibe that he sleeps with every pretty thing that falls his way, and you’re making eyes at him. Why would you be any different?”
He’s right. I don’t want him to be, but I know that he is. I roll my eyes. “Fine,” I say. “But you suck and I’m mad at you.”
“I know,” he replies, reaching out and squeezing my shoulder. “You’ll be fine.”
“Are you going to your room too?”
“Fuck no,” he says. “I have a party to go to.”
When the elevator beeps and the door opens, he turns around and disappears into the lounge again. I think about following him for a second, but I don’t. Rolling my eyes again, I step into the elevator and press the number to get to my floor.
Dom
Ishouldreallygohome. I would've thought that a party with the rich and famous would be a bit more fun than it was, but honestly, that was terrible. I think it might have more to do with the fact that Javi dragged Alana away from me as soon as we got to the party.
I know I shouldn't be jealous—I mean, fuck, I barely know this girl—but it's hard when she's around. I also know that I need to keep my head down and do my job. I need to do that. Everything looks so good on the outside, and sure, I've had more success now than before, but that doesn't mean anything, really. The advance from my publisher was laughable and I've been moonlighting as a bartender so I can help my mom with her bills. This is why my contract with Misha is so important. I need to make sure that he knows that I know exactly what I'm doing so that he can recommend me to his other clients.
I know he looked into my background. I don't know if he knows how much I looked into his. He tries to be mysterious, but it's hard when people write about him on the internet. And people have written plenty about Johnny Baskets, about the blonde bassist with the demonologist mother, about the weird gig at the drummer's house where everyone seemed to have gone into a weird communal hysteria and attacked the band. A few online forums love talking about it. I don't participate but it's in my best interest to keep track of all the information about the band and the exorcists at hand.
I need to stretch my legs after the long drive, so I make my way up to the first floor from the lobby and stand at the balcony for a few minutes, watching people dressed to the nines go in and out of the lounge as the beat makes its way up the stairs and fills the entirety of the bottom lobby. I think this hotel must be incredibly well-built, considering how loud this is. Some guests must not be having a great time.
I don't think about it for very long because Alana and Devon are coming out of the lounge and into the lobby. I can't see their expressions from where I'm standing, but it doesn't take a genius to tell that Alana is annoyed. She turns to look at him and says something under her breath, her ponytail bobbing around her head as she does. It doesn't seem like she's drunk or anything, but honestly, I'm relieved to see who she's with.
I'm being stupid. We've barely even talked. I have no idea what makes me believe I'm allowed to be jealous of who she chooses to associate with. It occurs to me that I don't even know her last name. There are a lot of things about her that I don't know and the knowledge of that, the crystal clear realization of it, is piercing and upsetting and weirdly disorienting all at once. I only had one drink and it seems to have gone straight to my head. I try to swallow down the knot in my throat as my fingers tighten around the railing of the balcony.
A couple walks behind me, giggling and talking to each other under their breath, and I decide that it's high time I go to bed. I take my time walking away from the balcony, trying my best to give the couple a wide berth so that I don't have to hear whatever the fuck they're talking about.
They make their way downstairs—thankfully—and I slow down my pace to stand in front of the elevator. There's no one around, which is nice. Even if it's only a few minutes, I'll take whatever time I need to recharge. I press the button to call the elevator and stand back, my arms crossed over my chest.
The elevator opens almost immediately. Alana is standing in the back, leaning back against the wall, her hand wrapped around her cellphone. She casts her gaze toward me, her eyes narrowing. "Dom?"
"Going up?"
She nods, a tight smile on her face. "Yeah," she says. "I decided to call it a night."
"Is that right?"
