We’ve barely stepped out onto the cold sidewalk when Dev wheels around on Griffin, the smile he’d held on his face while we said goodbye to Anna, Phoebe, and some fans in the restaurant long gone now. “We’re not staying there tonight,” he says to Griffin.
“Staying, how do you mean?”
“At the hotel. We’re going somewhere different and we’ll have all our belongings sent over.”
“That’s a bit daft, isn’t it? After all, everyone knows we’re at the other hotel. What if someone wants to get hold of me for a television appearance or to star in a movie, or what if they want to nominate me for an award?” Griffin asks, fluffing up his dark hair with one hand.
“Did you hear what you just said, you stupid arse? Everyone knows you’re at the hotel!”
Griffin glowers at him, spreading his feet to widen his stance. “Yes.”
“So if someone wants to come along and shoot you through the ears, they’ll bloody well just follow the fans right up to your bedroom!” Devon says. “We’re getting a different hotel, Griff, and we’re not telling anyone where it is.”
“The groupies like to know where their idol is staying.”
“The groupies can stuff themselves. I swear to the gods, if you tell a single soul where we’re staying, I’ll knock you out and send you home without hesitation. And that includes mentioning it on television!”
At this, Griffin springs forward, propelling himself until he’s chest to chest with Devon. “We’re not going home.”
“Yeah, well, we might have to,” Devon says, his voice quieter, but he doesn’t tear his gaze from Griffin’s or make any move to step away from him.
“What’s going on?” I ask, but they continue to stare at each other in silence. “Should we maybe talk about this in the car…?”
“I’m not going home until I’ve succeeded in my mission,” Griffin says to Devon, as if I’m not even there.
“Or what? Or until someone kills you?”
“I dare them to try.”
“It wouldn’t be too hard, considering you lost our home stone and now you’ve nearly exhausted your energy supply with posturing and running around making pretty girls fall at your feet, like you hadn’t learned anything at all with Zorga.”
Griffin shoves Devon. “That’s not true! I told you, I didn’t lose the damn stone. I never took it off, not even once.”
“Then where is it? Where is it, Griffin?”
“I didn’t lose the bloody thing. Someone’s taken it from me,” Griffin says, shoving Devon again.
“We’re both helpless here, and if someone’s come for you, it won’t take them long to find you,” Devon says, shoving him back. “If you’d spend a bit more time thinking about that and less time putting on silly costumes and kissing strangers, we might actually have a chance.”
This time, Griffin plants his hands on Devon’s shoulders and shoves him hard enough to send him back a few feet. Devon regains his balance and charges for Griffin, his right fist swinging for his friend’s face. Griffin ducks and tackles him around the waist, sending both of them crashing to the sidewalk.
“Stop it!” I yell, but I don’t dare attempt to pull them apart.
Dev manages to roll them both over to put himself on top of Griffin, but only for a few seconds. Griffin catches Devon’s neck in a lock, forcing him over onto his back. They kick and struggle against each other, landing blows, and go on this way until I see the bright flashes of cameras and hear the voices of everyone who’s surrounded us to gawk.
For some reason, the bodyguards still haven’t stepped in to stop Griffin and Devon from fighting, but seeing paparazzi cameras and wayward cell phones held up for pictures spurns me to action.
I rush forward, heart hammering away in my throat, and grab Griffin’s arm before he can do any more damage to his friend. He tries to shake me off, but I hold on too tight. “Get up right now,” I say. “Right now, do you hear me? Get up!”
One of the bodyguards steps forward, trying to pull me away, but Griffin obeys me and stands up.
“Leave Wanda alone,” he says, breathing hard. He wipes blood from his mouth, thick blood that looks black, and then offers his hand to Devon. He swats his hand away, standing up on his own and crossing his arms protectively over his chest. “Where’s the car? Someone get the car.”
“We’re not staying at that hotel tonight,” Dev says, and this time, no one argues with him.
As we walk together to the car, in a bundle of frayed nerves, questions and camera flashes follow us. Griffin climbs inside first, with Devon right behind him, and then I follow, plopping myself between Griffin and Devon, just in case. The very instant the last of our entourage has sat down, we pull away from the curb.
“What’s going on?” I say before anyone else can say anything. Griffin turns his face away from me, staring out the tinted window. “Devon?”
“That thing you saw on the television, that’s likely an indication that someone else from our world is here,” Devon says, with a tremendous, exasperated sigh.
“Is it Griffin’s dad?”
“Anterys wouldn’t come here to save his life. No, he told us we were thoroughly on our own through this; it’s all part of this damned wager. If someone else from our world is here, they’ve got nefarious intentions. That much I’m certain.”
“We don’t know that,” Griffin says, without turning his head.
Devon presses his lips together and lets out a noisy breath through his nose, shaking his head.
“By nefarious, uh, well… how nefarious exactly do you mean?” I ask, though Griffin’s half-dozen bodyguards that seem to appear and disappear at random would indicate a pretty high level of danger just on their own.
Griffin shifts in his seat, still staring out the window. “They want to kill me.”
Oh, that is not good at all.
“I won’t let them do it,” Devon mutters. “If it means we go home, then that’s what we’ll do. I won’t let them kill you, Griffin.”
“What’s the point? We go home, I’ll marry that beastly woman, you’ll get sent to the Fifth City, and then what? Nothing’s solved. Everyone’s still hungry and angry. One of these days, they’ll just finish the job anyway.”
Devon winces. “Don’t say that.”
Neither of them speaks for a long few seconds, and I’m just about to say something to kill the silence, when Griffin turns his head to us again.
“I can’t lose the wager,” he says. “None of us can. If we go to war again, there won’t be anything left this time.”
Though Dev hesitates, he finally sighs and turns his head, leaning around me to meet Griffin’s gaze. “We have to be safe about it, though. I want you in one piece when your father has to admit he lost to you.”
“Us. Lost to us,” Griffin corrects. “I’m sorry I hit you.”
“You should be, you idiot. I clocked you good,” Dev says, a hint of humor finally trickling back into his voice. His posture relaxes a little and his eyes flick between Griffin and me. “Got what you deserved, pushing me around.”
The thick, black blood has mostly stopped oozing from Griffin’s mouth, thankfully, but quite a bit of it’s smeared on his hand. “Is it your lip?” I ask.
“Yeah. Dev’s a peace lover, but he’s scrappy when he wants to be.”
“Not the first time I’ve proved that,” Dev says.
“Are you reminding me that you once almost broke your prince’s nose?”
“I did break it, and I’m still not sorry, either.”
“That’s not true. You felt very guilty; I thought you might even cry.” Griffin raises his voice for the driver. “Oy! Take us to a new hotel! And then someone needs to go secure our belongings. I want my clothes.”
Our new hotel’s a bit less posh than the other one, but when Griffin requests someone send a record player to our room, the man behind the desk barely hesitates in promising to send one up.
“Is there anything else I might get fo
r you this evening, Mr. Valentino?” the man asks, and Griffin leans up on tiptoe, rests his elbow against the tall counter, and peers importantly over the top of his sunglasses.
“Can you send up some of those hot dogs from the street vendors? Two or three? Or, maybe five?” he asks in a quiet voice.
“No, we don’t need any of those,” Dev says, shaking his head. “We do, however, expect to remain under the radar during our stay, from fans or media or anyone else who might ask after us, should they catch a hint we’re here. Discretion will be generously rewarded.”
The man smiles. “That’s not a problem, sir.” He eyes Griffin’s face again. “There’s a full first aid kit in the room…”
“What about David Bowie?” Griffin asks. “D’yanno where David Bowie is? I need him to sign something for me.”
“I’m afraid I don’t, sir, but perhaps I can make a few phone calls.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Dev says, flashing a toothy smile. He links arms with Griffin, tugging him away from the counter before he can request anything else.
Dating an Alien Pop Star Page 16
