“I already told you, I’m not leaving,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Okay, so you’re turning into a stalker now? Are you going to wait me out until I eventually decided to leave my room tomorrow morning?”
He didn’t say anything for several seconds, which prompted me to look out the peephole again. He looked contemplative, like he was mulling over my words.
“Yeah, I actually think I will do that. I mean, I figure you’ll need ice at some point.”
“Probably not. I don’t like ice.”
“You’re such a liar. I know you like ice. Everyone likes ice.”
“Well, I don’t need any ice, so I have no reason to leave my room tonight.”
“You’re so difficult,” he teased.
“And you’re insane,” I responded, making him laugh.
“I’m not really, though,” he said practically. “And I think you know that.”
“Whatever,” I said, not pacifying him with a real response. “Stay out there all night, if you want. I’m done talking. I guess I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Okay, sounds good,” he said, sounding way too upbeat. It made me wonder if he had something up his sleeve that he wasn’t telling me.
I figured ignoring him would be best, so I went back to my bed, and started the movie again. All was quiet until I heard what I thought was singing. I didn’t want to be intrigued, but I couldn’t help it, so I paused the movie again. It was soft, but I could clearly make out that Van was singing a song by The Airborne Toxic Event, and with his ability to sing in a perfect falsetto with no background music, he could emulate the lead singer’s voice perfectly. But the question was, why in the hell was he singing?
As silently as I could, I walked over to the door and looked out the peephole. I couldn’t see him, but his voice got clearer the closer I got. I could hear the lyrics perfectly as he belted them out at the top of his lungs. He was also gently beating out time against the bottom of the door, so I figured he was sitting with his back against it.
I took a deep breath and backed away from the door, fighting every urge I had in that moment to grab the door and yank it open, knowing he’d fall backward if I did. Doing that would also mean he’d be partially inside my room, and then he’d get his wish. I couldn’t do that.
A sudden knock had me jumping in surprise.
“Go away, Van,” I yelled over his singing. I’d loved that song up until that very moment. He was ruining it for me. “I’m not letting you in.”
“It’s not me,” he called back. “It’s someone with cake – possibly my new best friend. Hey, man, what’s your name?”
I felt my eyes get wide as I stared at the closed door.
“Hector,” the guy said to Van.
“Hi Hector. I’m Van. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too,” Hector said, sounding like he wasn’t sure what to think of him.
“Did you order cake for me, sweetheart?” Van called back to me, making anger suddenly boil up inside me.
“Do not call me sweetheart!” I yelled back at him. “I am not your sweetheart.”
What the hell was his problem?
“Did she lock you out?” I heard Hector ask him. “What did you do, man?”
Van laughed as he stood up . “I did enough. That’s why she’s not really thrilled that I’m out here. It’s why I was singing to her.”
“Hey, you’re from that band that’s staying in the penthouse, aren’t you?” Hector questioned, suddenly connecting the dots. “Westside, right?”
“That’s right,” Van said, and when I looked through the peephole, I could see that he was grinning his sexy stage smile that the fans went nuts over. Once upon a time, I’d gone nuts over it too.
“Aww, man, that’s so cool. My daughter is a big fan of you guys.”
“Is she? That’s great. How old is she?”
“She’s eight.”
“Very cool. What’s her name?” Van asked him.
“Gabriella.”
“That is a beautiful name. You’ll have to tell her I said hi.”
“I will. You said your name’s Van?”
“That’s right. Van Salvatore. Hey, do you want me to autograph something for you to give to her?” Van asked.
I rolled my eyes, wondering how long this was going to go on. I kind of wanted my cake, since I could see it looking mouth-wateringly delicious on the plate with the glass dome that Hector was holding.
“Oh, wow, that would be great, but we’re not supposed to ask celebrity guests for autographs,” Hector told him.
I watched Van shrug. “That’s okay. You didn’t ask. I offered. Do you have anything I can write on?”
I watched Hector look down at the tray and then down at his pockets. “I just have her room service slip, but I have to bring that back after she signs it.”
“That’s cool. Elisa probably has something in her room that I can sign. In fact, she has a box of pictures signed by the whole band. I’ll have her give you one of those, and I can write a special message to Gabriella on it.”
I felt my jaw drop at his suggestion. He had some nerve, and he knew I couldn’t say no. How could I even think of denying Hector’s eight year-old daughter an autographed picture of her favorite band? Even I wasn’t that selfish, but doing that also gave Van the in he’d been looking for. I’d have to let him into the room, wait for him to sign the damn picture, and then I knew he wouldn’t leave. What the hell was I supposed to do then?
“Hey Lis, did you catch all that?” Van called out to me.
I wanted to punch him in his self-satisfied face.
“Yes,” I grumbled. “Give me a second.”
I went to grab a picture from the box I’d set on the desk when Keri and I got to the room earlier in the night. I always kept some on-hand in case situations like this arose, so unfortunately I was prepared.
Then I marched to the door and opened it just enough so I could squeeze out. I twisted the deadbolt so the door wouldn’t lock behind me and stepped out into the hallway.
“There she is,” Van said, a satisfied grin on his face.
I plastered a smile on my face as I handed the picture to Hector. “Here you go.”
“I’ll take that,” Van said, grabbing it from Hector, which prompted me to turn and scowl at him.
“I promised I’d write a note on it,” he reminded me. “Did you bring a marker?”
“No.”
“You can use my pen,” Hector offered.
“Nah, that won’t work very well on the photo paper. Can you grab a marker, Lis?”
I glared at him, wishing I could tell him to get it himself, but that really wouldn’t help my situation.
“Be right back,” I said with false cheer.
“She’s such a great girl,” I heard Van tell Hector.
I narrowed my eyes as I stomped toward the desk once more. When I turned around with the marker in my hand, I stopped short. Van and Hector were standing just inside my room.
“What the–?”
“Why don’t you set the cake down on the desk, Hector,” Van suggested. “And while you do that, I’ll write something special to Gabriella.”
“Thanks so much for doing that,” Hector said as he set my cake on the desk and handed me the room service slip to sign. “Here you go, miss.”
I grabbed it with a scowl on my face, even though Hector wasn’t the reason for my anger. He was an innocent party in the game Van was playing. But I was still irritated as all hell.
As I signed the slip with a flourish and handed it back to Hector, I watched Van write his note and pass the picture to Hector on his way out. Hector beamed at him and shook his hand, in awe of Van’s gesture. I just stood there stone-faced, wondering how I was going to get rid of Van now.
Once Hector left the room, Van turned to me. “So, whatcha doing?” he asked, flashing his prize-winning grin at me.
I was fuming. That’s what I was doing.
“Leaving,” I said, suddenly getting an idea.
I wasn’t sure there was another way I was going to be able to extricate him from my room.
Van frowned. “Leaving?”
“Yes, I’m meeting someone at the bar,” I said, grabbing my room key and my phone.
“The bar? The hotel bar?”
“Yes,” I said as I slipped my shoes on.
“Who?”
“Don’t worry about it,” I said haughtily.
“But you just ordered cake,” he questioned, looking back at the cake on the desk.
“That’s for later,” I said, sort of enjoying this game I’d invented. It was putting a priceless look on Van’s face that I was completely enjoying.
“Later?”
I shrugged. “Sure. When we come back up here. I’m sure we’ll be hungry at some point.”
His eyebrows rose in surprise. “We? Are you seeing someone? Who is it?”
“None of your business,” I said around a smile as I walked toward him, put my hands on his shoulders and pushed him toward the door.
I caught him off-guard, so he went willingly. Normally, the fact that he had six inches of height and sixty pounds of weight on me would make the task tougher, but he didn’t fight me. He just blinked in confusion a few times.
“Are you being serious?” he asked me.
“I am.”
“Who are you talking about?” he demanded as I opened the door, shoved him out into the hall and followed him.
“Just a guy.”
“A guy from here?”
I cocked my head in mock-thought. “I don’t think he’s from here.”
Van’s eyes narrowed. “Is he on our tour?”
“Yes, he is,” I said, not loving the fact that I was getting into a lie that I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stand behind, but that didn’t really matter at that moment in time.
What I was saying was resonating with Van, and he was leaving. I was getting him to go away like I’d wanted all along. I’d deal with the lie later.
“Fuck,” he hissed.
“Night, Van,” I said cheerfully as I headed toward the elevator.
He was right on my heels, but he didn’t say anything at first, so I stepped into the elevator when it arrived and pressed the button for the lobby. He stepped in behind me. Out of the corner of my eye I could see him eyeing me in confusion as we started to descend, so just for fun, I shoved my keycard into the slot and pressed the button for his floor. We were staying one floor below the guys from Westside who were in the penthouse, and fortunately my restricted access also got me access to their floor.
“You can take the elevator back up to your room after I get off,” I told him, feeling a surge of confidence in the fact that I’d turned his seemingly favorable situation on its head.
“Yeah, sure,” Van mumbled.
When we reached the lobby, I stepped off elevator and turned to say goodnight to him, but he didn’t stay put. He walked out behind me.
“What are you doing?” I asked him.
“Following you.”
“That’s creepy,” I said in as harsh of a tone as I could muster, because the last thing I wanted him to do was follow me.
If he did that he’d find out that I was lying, and he’d bust me. Then he’d have the upper hand again. I’d just gotten it, and where he was concerned, I couldn’t really afford to lose it.
“It’s not creepy,” he challenged. “It’s productive.”
“Productive?” I asked, raising an eyebrow at him.
“Damn,” he grumbled. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Raise your eyebrow at me. It’s sexy as hell.”
“Sexy? Are you joking?”
“No,” he mumbled.
“Van, this isn’t happening, okay?” I said, gesturing between us. “We ended two years ago, and we both know it was for the best.”
“No, it wasn’t,” he defended.
“Okay, well, I think it was, so that’s really all you need to know.”
“Fine,” he said, not seeming happy in the least.
But I couldn’t really be bothered with his feelings. He certainly hadn’t bothered with mine when it counted most. Instead I turned and headed toward the lobby, hoping he wasn’t going to follow me. The last thing I wanted to do, though, was turn around to see if he was behind me. So I kept my back straight and walked into the hotel’s restaurant, figuring I’d have a drink.
I headed toward the bar that was relatively empty except for one guy wearing a hoodie. I left a barstool between us and sat down, grabbing the drink menu. When the bartender came over, I ordered a vodka and soda and was grateful when he slid it in front of me. An hour earlier, cake sounded like the best thing in the world, but after my encounter with Van, a strong drink seemed even better.
“Elisa?” I heard in an unmistakable Australian accent, right as I took my first sip. I turned to see the guy in the hoodie looking over at me.
“Jamie,” I said, a smile stretching across my face as I realized I knew him. “I didn’t recognize you.”
Jamie was the webmaster for Trick Shot, the band that opened for Westside each night. As another behind-the-scenes guy, we’d gotten to know each other over the past month. He was nice and really cute with sandy blond hair and dimples, and I was sort of mesmerized by his accent. All the guys from Trick Shot had sexy accents, but the guys in the band were too young for me. Jamie was twenty-six, which was much more preferable, although I thought he had a girlfriend back home.
He smiled at me, but it seemed forced. “What are you doing here? I assumed you’d be at the party.”
“I’m hiding from Van,” I told him honestly.
“Van? Van Salvatore?”
I shrugged. “We dated a few years ago, and it ended badly. He wants to be friends, or more, or something. I’m not interested, but he won’t exactly take no for an answer.”
“Ah, he’s still got a thing for you,” Jamie deduced as he moved over to the stool next to mine.
I shrugged. “I suppose, but it doesn’t really matter. How about you? Did you just feel like drinking alone tonight?”
“I got dumped a few hours ago, so I wasn’t feeling very social.”
“Oh no. I’m so sorry to hear that. What happened?”
He shrugged. “She didn’t like that I was away so much. She has a stable job in Sydney, and I’m never really home anymore. I guess it was sort of inevitable.”
“That sucks. How long were you together?”
“A year. It was fine when the guys were playing mainly local shows, but that’s not really going to be an option anymore. I know this tour is going to be what launches them forward, and we’ll be lucky if we’re home more than a few months at a time from here on out.”
“I know how that feels.”
“Yeah?”
“Yup. I’ve spent the past few years on the road, and relationships are hard to make work when you’re never in the same city as the person you’re with.”
“Have you worked for Westside the whole time?”
I shook my head. “No, I’ve actually worked for Sydney Chase for the past few years. This is my first year with Westside, since Syd’s taking a break from touring.”
“Oh, Syd,” he said jovially. “You sound like you’re mates with her or something.”
“I am,” I told him, giggling a little at his use of the word ‘mates’. “She’s one of my best friends.”
“Well, then consider me humbled. I guess I should have figured. You said Van Salvatore was your ex. I guess it would make sense that you’re best friends with Sydney Chase.”
I rolled my eyes playfully. “They’re just people. It’s not a big deal.”
I’d long ago lost the ability to be wowed by most celebrities. When you’re around them so much, and you realize they’re just normal people with elevated existences and ridiculously big bank accounts, they’re not so intimidating.
“I’ll take
your word for it. I’ve yet to have a conversation with Van, and if I met Sydney Chase, I’d likely piss myself.”
I laughed. “Syd’s really nice. She’s a sweetheart. You’d like her.”
“I’m sure I would,” Jamie said, laughing along with me. “But what about Van? Would I like him?”
“I don’t want to talk about him,” I grumbled.
“Ah, so do you still have feelings for him?”
“No!” I said quickly. Realizing how that must have sounded, I adjusted my tone. “No. Not at all.”
“Are you sure?”
I felt my shoulders sink as I took a fortifying sip of my drink. “I honestly don’t know. But even if I did, he hurt me two years ago. I’m not sure I can look past that.”
“Two years is a long time. People can change.”
“I guess.”
I wasn’t convinced that was the case where Van was concerned, but I also didn’t want to get into a debate about him with Jamie. He was really the last person I wanted to talk about after the stunt he’d pulled earlier.
Jamie smiled, possibly reading my mind. “How about a subject change?”
“If I said I loved you for suggesting that, would it seem too forward?”
He laughed. “Not at all.”
“Good. Then let’s talk about something else.”
“So, global warming,” he said, forcing a serious tone into his voice. “It sucks, doesn’t it?”
I laughed. “That’s a horrible subject.”
“Well, it’s better than talking about you know who, isn’t it?”
“Who? Voldemort?”
Jamie laughed. “If that’s how you view Van, then yes.”
I shook my head. “He’s not that bad. But I still don’t want to talk about him.”
“Okay, then we won’t. But I’ll let you pick the subject. And don’t bring up my ex either. I’m not ready to talk about her.”
“Deal,” I told him, suddenly glad for the turn the night had taken.
Chapter Nine
Van
“I’m better looking than that guy,” I grumbled to Dillon and Phillip who’d collapsed onto the couch in the lobby beside me.
Their security guys, Tommy and Greg, had come in with them and were standing nearby, giving us space. I’d told Marshall he was good to take the rest of the night off when I’d headed up to Elisa’s room earlier, figuring I wouldn’t be venturing farther than there. I’d been wrong and was grateful for the beanie I was sporting. I didn’t need any fan sightings, even though they’d be rare at this time of night.
Westside Series Box Set Page 51
