Chasing Alys

by Morgana Bevan

  “The paramedics are here. Will you let them check you over for my peace of mind?”

  Again I nodded. Ryan gestured for security to allow two men in green into the room. They shouldered their heavy bags and made a beeline for us.

  My eyes skittered around the space, bouncing between tiny movements. The groupies filming and laughing – Somebody really should stop them – the perpetual downturn of the manager’s mouth, Jared’s nervous ticks and on and on. Words were nothing but a buzz in the deepest recesses of my mind.

  Distantly, I heard Ryan explain the situation, but I couldn’t concentrate on his voice. My brain was in overdrive and I couldn’t stop squeezing the innocent water bottle. If I hadn’t already emptied it, it would have sprayed all over me.

  The blonde was staring at me. Correction, she was glaring, as if I were to blame for her restrained predicament. Who does this bitch think she is? If anyone should be glaring, it’s me. Maybe I would take great pleasure filing assault charges against her.

  “Alys,” Ryan said, penetrating the fog that had descended on my thoughts. My eyes rose to his concerned face. His brows creased in a frown while his eyes flitted between me and blondie. “You okay?”

  I barely restrained myself from sighing or rolling my eyes at the question. If he asked the same thing every hour for the next twenty-four hours, I definitely wouldn’t be able to control myself. I was clueless as to how to stop the questions, however, so he’d just have to deal with my snark.

  “When will the police get here?”

  “Police?”

  “I should probably give a statement and find out what they might need for assault charges.” My voice was flat and emotionless. It felt like my head was filled with clouds, but the perplexed look on Ryan’s face arrowed through to the tiny piece of sense I still had. “Ryan?”

  “There aren’t going to be police, Red. Matt will handle it all.” At my blank stare, he elaborated, pointing at the suit. “Our manager.”

  “Why did she attack me?” If she’d been after Ryan, she probably shouldn’t have played tonsil hockey with Jared.

  “I don’t know. This is a first.” Ryan grimaced. “The band doesn’t need that kind of attention right now.”

  “Yeah, let’s rewind, shall we? Some psycho attacked me, knocked me unconscious and you’re okay making the decision to let it slide without me?”

  “Can we talk about this after the paramedic checks you over, please?” A pained expression marred his beautiful face.

  I nodded with the sweetest smile I could manage. Let’s be honest, it was more like a soundless growl. If he thought I’d let it pass over my head, he had another thing coming. All he’d had to do was give me the choice. Instead, this farce felt like a warped version of my future.

  It took the paramedics thirty seconds to pronounce that I was concussed, and then another two minutes to examine the wound and proclaim that only an X-ray could confirm if glass had embedded into my skull. Good work. When I refused to go to the hospital for a scan, Ryan and Emily tried to gang up on me, but there was no changing my mind. There was no way I planned to set foot in a ridiculously busy A&E on a Saturday night. I’d rather wait it out and go see my doctor at home if it got worse. I told them all as much, and it appeased the paramedics a little.

  “I can’t make you go in for a scan, but if your symptoms worsen in any way – slurred words, loss of memory or balance – you need to get checked out further,” a paramedic ordered, his voice calm but authoritative. My eyes latched onto the tiny red snake dancing on his chest, my head tilting to consider it. It stood out yet blurred against the green of his shirt. “Do you understand?”

  Someone squeezed my shoulder, breaking the spell and releasing me from the snake’s grasp. I looked up to find everyone staring at me with varying degrees of concern. I nodded in response to the paramedics but kept my eyes straight ahead, lest I get sucked in again.

  Ryan looked about ready to throw me over his shoulder and drag me to the nearest hospital. Thankfully, the paramedic wrapped it up quickly, prescribing rest, paracetamol for the headache I could feel blooming, and no more alcohol or driving.

  “Do you have someone to stay with you for the next forty-eight hours?” He’d barely got the words out before Ryan and Emily answered in the affirmative. They eyed each other in what I hoped I’d eventually appreciate for the pissing contest it was.

  Happy that I wouldn’t be unattended to injure myself further, the paramedics packed up and departed quickly. With the problem of my health dealt with, I turned my attention back to Ryan and the lack of police presence.

  “Explain the no police, no charges thing again.”

  Ryan groaned. “Can we just get out of here?” I pursed my lips and waited, my eyes fixed on his serious, squirming face. “If you press charges, the media find out and we’re all over the tabloids. Next thing you know, they’ve twisted it and somehow one of the band members gets pulled into the mess.”

  “It kind of is Jared’s mess,” Emily said, her tone a touch too chipper, but I agreed with her all the same.

  “If you don’t want it in the papers, you should have confiscated those phones,” I said, pointing to the groupies still filming. Ryan barely glanced at them.

  “Matt will handle it,” he repeated in what I’m sure was meant to be a reassuring voice.

  “How will Matt ‘handle it’?” I was like a dog with a bone; there was no way I’d let it go until I understood the situation. How could Matt offer anything equal to assault charges? My slightly befuddled mind threw up an image of blondie’s broken body washing up on a beach somewhere, battered and bruised.

  That was absurd even for me, but all the same, I knew nothing about Matt’s methods.

  Was this how it was in his world? Cryptic comments and Matt making people disappear so that they couldn’t taint the band’s reputation? I hadn’t even met the man, but I was fairly certain he didn’t like me. Would he remove me one day?

  Ryan tried to guide me towards the door, but I wasn’t having any of it. It wasn’t difficult to plant my feet firmly; the disgusting carpet stuck to the soles of my boots without effort.

  One look at my face and Ryan finally seemed to twig that he had added a big fat con to my list. Sighing, he released his grip on my arm and marched over to Matt. Ryan leaned in close and whispered in his ear. Matt’s eyes widened, darting to me.

  “Now, wait a minute!” Matt shouted, forgetting his audience. Ryan squeezed his shoulder in warning and the volume dropped back to a furious whisper.

  Their conversation didn’t last long. Matt stalked past us, swiping and tapping at his phone. Ryan, on the other hand, seemed the picture of serenity.

  “Ready to go?” he asked, as though the whole thing had been forgotten.

  “What just happened?”

  “Matt’s dealing with it.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Enough cryptic.”

  “He’s calling the police. Charges will be filed, so you can stop looking at me like I’m a mobster wearing a rock star’s skin.” My lips twitched at the ridiculousness of that image. Emily had far less control, though, barking out a laugh.

  “I appreciate you stepping in like that. But my issue wasn’t the lack of charges. It was the lack of choice.”

  “You don’t want to press charges?” he asked slowly, drawing an agitated hand through his hair again.

  “I’d rather get home and forget the whole thing happened, but I don’t want her to get away with it.” I couldn’t project my voice much above a whisper, and I was probably swaying with the fatigue.

  “Which is exactly what I was giving you.”

  “No, you assumed that I’d go along with your cryptic, no-fuss rule. I wanted to know what punishment Matt could offer over charges.”

  “Believe it or not, fans don’t usually attack us.”

  “You mean groupies,” corrected Emily.

  Ryan ignored her, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me in tight to his body.
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  “Shouldn’t you be stopping Matt?” I asked.

  “I will, on our way out. Need to put some distance between you two.”

  “He already hates me for some reason, so what’s one more infraction?”

  “He doesn’t. But in other news, now you definitely have to take me with you.” Ryan grinned, oddly boyish for a thirty-year-old rock star. “Who’s going to wake you every hour and make sure you don’t die otherwise?”

  “That’s your silver lining to all this?”

  “Uh, hi. I’m Emily. The best friend. Have we met?” Emily protested, causing Ryan to scowl in what I’m sure was meant to inspire fear. It just made me laugh. And wince when pain ricocheted through my head.

  Really, I needed a new best friend. One pointed look from Ryan, and my traitor about-faced. “Actually, I’m busy. I just remembered. I have a thing.”

  I stared at her. “A thing?”

  “Yeah. A very important thing.”

  “That you forgot about until this moment?”

  “I’ll meet you back at the hotel.” Emily shrugged and wandered off, abandoning us.

  I turned to Ryan. “What did you promise her?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His eyes danced.

  “I’m impressed you got her to agree to your scheme.”

  He flashed a smile. “Who said it was my scheme?”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Getting the key card to read with a man nibbling my neck was a new experience. It took four tries to get the door open, and I wholeheartedly blamed Ryan for it.

  When the door did finally open, it was to an empty room. Our suitcases still sat in their open positions along the wall and Emily’s make-up cluttered the desk, but otherwise there was no sign of her.

  We’d stopped off for a takeaway on the way back because Ryan was starving and I knew I should eat something, even if my stomach rebelled at the idea. It had taken nearly twenty minutes for the pizza to cook.

  “She should be here by now.” I chose to ignore the panic in my voice and pulled my phone out with shaky hands. What if something had happened to her?

  “I’m sure she’s fine,” Ryan said, ridding me of my coat and bag.

  Her phone went straight to voicemail, shooting my panic up another notch until a more logical scenario popped into my head.

  “Did you see Jared when we left?”

  “I can’t remember. Why?”

  Before I could answer, my phone pinged with an incoming text.

  Emily: I’m fine. Found something to keep me busy for the night. Have fun. ;)

  If “something” wasn’t code for Jared, then I’d be seriously surprised.

  “Do you want to go look for her?” Ryan asked. He didn’t seem happy about it, but he picked up my coat all the same.

  “No. She texted. I think she’s with him.” I shut my concern down. Emily could make her own choices, even if I thought they’d end in more heartache.

  “She’s out for the night. I’m going to go wash the blood out of my hair.”

  Shaking Emily’s activities out of my head, I kicked my boots off en route to the bathroom. Ryan said nothing, frowning at me with a glimmer in his eyes that could have meant absolutely anything.

  “What’s up with that?” I asked, waving my finger in front of his face.

  “Are you sure you’ll be alright in there on your own?”

  “It’s a cut, not a broken leg.” No further enlightened, I shut the bathroom door and made quick work of my clothes.

  My hair didn’t resemble a bird’s nest as I’d feared, but the nape of my neck was matted and rock solid with dried blood. It wasn’t a good look, not even for a redhead. Rusty dried blood did not blend with the copper tones in my hair. Cleaning it without aggravating the wound or driving any potential glass deeper was going to be a challenge.

  I stood under the stream of hot water for a good couple minutes before I risked touching my hair. The sting was immediate and intimidating. Pings sounded at my feet as loose shards fell from my hair. Maybe I can clean the blood out in short sessions. Work is done for the year, no one has to see me, and if I have to go out, I can just wear a hat or figure out how to tie my hair back without losing a chunk of it.

  Just as I finished my last thought, the shower curtain whipped open. I squeaked – probably the most pathetic noise I’d ever made – and Ryan’s massive grin confirmed it.

  My mind stuttered in the chase for my courage at the sight of his naked body. Covering myself didn’t even register as an option in the face of all that skin. I mean, I’d seen Ryan naked before, but we hadn’t really lingered, and this hotel bathroom had great light for ogling every glorious inch of him.

  “Do you need help?” he asked.

  I hated admitting it, but I’d get to bed faster if I let him in. I nodded, and he stepped into the shower and pulled the curtain closed.

  “Let’s check for glass first.” He twirled his fingers, and I reluctantly turned my back to him.

  He deftly plucked at my scalp, searching for any shards. The initial contact elicited a hiss, but each tiny sting gradually dulled into one that was easier to ignore.

  “I think I’ve got it all, but I’ll go slow with the shampoo just in case,” he said what felt like hours later.

  With his hands out of my hair, I spun around. He picked up the shampoo bottle I’d yet to touch and squeezed an excessive amount into his hand.

  “Turn back around.”

  And deprive myself of a magnificent piece of art again? Not likely.

  My rebellion must have translated because Ryan got to work shampooing my hair without further comment. That died a quick death at another hiss of pain. Eyebrow quirked; his eyes laughed at me for my pitiful attempt to retain any semblance of control. It hadn’t escaped my notice that he’d hardly touched the damaged section of my head. I opened my mouth to use his avoidance against him. His fingers slid over the gash, and anything I would have said to get him out of my shower died on a muted cry.

  Ryan wanted to get to know me better, but there were certain things I’d rather no one know. Example: I’m a wimp when it comes to pain.

  I buried my face in Ryan’s chest, biting my lip rather than sinking my teeth into his shoulder like I wanted to.

  His fingers stilled on my scalp. “Do you want me to stop?”

  Yes, I almost shouted, but what would that gain me, other than more time alone to process our change of status? I would still have dried blood in my hair, and I was definitely too much of a chicken to inflict the pain on myself. What was the point of having a boyfriend if I couldn’t let him help me?

  “No, I need you.” My voice cracked as the words tumbled out. My arms slid around his waist in preparation, and to make sure he stayed.

  Silence followed as my words sank in. Ryan slipped his arms around me, abandoning my hair to hold me in what had to be the most comforting hug I’d ever received. Neither of us said a word. Water cascaded around us, and Ryan swayed us slightly to some song only he could hear.

  It was too easy to imagine what life would be like now that I was with Ryan, filled with small, sweet moments, hot nights and loving gestures. It would never be easy, and I’d have to learn to deal with my insecurities, but I could bury myself in his arms whenever life got hard, and that meant everything.

  He pressed a chaste kiss to my hair and released me. Well, he tried to – I had no intention of letting him go, and he accepted it without a word.

  “Tell me if it hurts too much,” he whispered, his fingers weaving back into my hair.

  I shut my eyes tight, braced for the sharp pain. Tentatively, he began to massage the shampoo into the wound. I’m lucky I didn’t draw blood with how deep my teeth sank into my lip. I tried not to press myself tighter to him to escape the pain. I failed, but Ryan ignored my attempt to burrow into his skin.

  I could get used to this, having someone else take control of the hard stuff. But despite his insistence that things with the ban
d could change at any time, I could never stand by while he gave up something he loved. I didn’t know him well, but I could confidently say that he would never be the same if he lost it. And although it made me uneasy, touring was just a necessary evil I would have to get used to, as well as the sight of him hugging other women.

  It would be work, nothing more.

  I flirted with suppliers regularly to get things done at the last minute. Ryan being a genuine person and giving his fans time was no different. Right?

  There was a determination burning inside me, begging that this time be different, that I make this time different. It has to be different.

  Ryan’s fingers combed through my tangle-free hair, rinsing the shampoo and scraping lightly against my scalp. I shivered. His hands stilled and his body tensed against me.

  “Is that better?” he asked, the words hoarse.

  All I could do was nod against his chest. With my head pounding, I didn’t think I’d get aroused, but one sweep of his hands down my back and need flipped in my belly.

  My head hurt and my eyes ached. How the fuck I was still standing and not shaking was a mystery. As much as I wanted another go in the sheets with Ryan, it wouldn’t do me any good right now. I needed painkillers, food and bed.

  Yet a tiny part of me huffed at my common sense.

  “Let’s see if the pizza is still warm and get you to bed.” Ryan turned the water off and stepped out, quickly running a towel over his body. My eyes devoured every buff of the cloth.

  Ryan smirked, catching me eying him. “There’ll be plenty of time for that. Tonight, I’ll settle for holding you.” With a big bath towel in hand, he opened his arms for me.

  Eyes burning, I stepped out of the shower and into the towel. Neither of us needed my irrational tears right now.

  Once satisfied that he’d caught every drop of water, Ryan led me into the bedroom and sat me down on the bed. He surveyed the mess of clothes on the floor, his eyes jumping from one case to the next.

  “Which one is yours?”

  I pointed to the one that looked like it had thrown up a dull rainbow. His eyebrows lifted in question. “Emily.” I shrugged, and promptly followed my body’s demands that I lie the fuck down.