by E. M. Moore
Finnick and Ian raise from their seats. They both walk toward the open door with matching scowls. They look at me, and it feels like I’m the one they’re pissed at. I back up until my back hits the wall behind me. They move past, Ian slicing me with a cruel look that I swear goes straight through to the marrow of my bone.
When they exit down the hallway, I breathe, trying to collect myself. My phone rings in my pocket. I pull it out and see Mr. Nolan’s name on the screen. My heart thumps loudly, but I swipe to answer it and bring it up to my ear while Sean watches me from his seat at the table. I turn away, not able to stand his eyes on me like that while I talk to my new boss. Accusing. Hatred. And perhaps a little bit of fear mixed in. “Hello?”
“Aisley, hello,” Mr. Nolan says. “What’s going on there?”
I retreat to the other end of the hallway and lower my voice. “I’m not sure, Mr. Nolan. I guess I didn’t get that good of a reception when I first came.”
He sighs heavily, like he has the weight of the entire record company on his shoulders. I stand up straighter. This is not good. I should’ve tried to talk the guys out of calling him. I’m sure he has enough on his plate, and he doesn’t need to hear this.
“I’ll figure it out,” I tell him. “Don’t worry.”
“I certainly hope so,” he says. “Not what I wanted to hear right now.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. I don’t really know what to say to that because I think exactly none of what just happened was my fault, just a bunch of rockstars acting like spoiled babies, but I’m also not going to tell him that. It’ll sound like just a bunch of drama, and that’s not what any boss wants to hear. “I’ll take care of it,” I say.
The line clicks again and then cuts out. I look down again and realize Mr. Nolan’s hung up on me now too. What in the actual fuck?
I shake my head slowly, then almost jump when I hear a voice behind me. I’d forgotten Sean was still here. “I’m still going to need that water.”
I spin on my heel. “Archer took it.”
He shrugs. “Not my problem.”
I huff out a breath, slip my phone away, and then walk back up the stairs to the refrigerator. I grab a new bottle of water, clasp it in my hands with a death grip that hopefully no one will be able to break, then head back downstairs again. At the bottom of the steel steps, I look to the right. Sean isn’t here. I move forward, looking into the room we were just in. It’s empty. I pull the door shut and stand in the hallway, looking around. “Sean?” I call out.
Nothing.
I make a noise of frustration in the back of my throat. “Sean,” I say a little louder.
Nothing again.
I shake my head and smile in disbelief. He asks me to go get him something, then wanders off. Unbelievable.
I pull the front door open and peek outside. I don’t see him. Closing and locking the door behind me, I turn around again. Short of knocking on all the doors in the hallway, how am I supposed to get the water he wanted to him? He must’ve really needed it, huh?
“Sean,” I call out again thirty seconds later, hoping this will be the time he comes out of hiding for this stupid water he needed so badly, but didn’t bother waiting around for.
Fuck it, I tell myself. I know he’s fucking with me, but I’m not going to give them a reason to call Nolan again either. I knock and start opening doors when there’s no answer. The first few are other bedrooms, and surprise, surprise, they’re bigger than mine with regular beds in them. Not bunks. It’s apparent they’re not being used either.
They literally put me as far away from them as possible. I’m one step from being outside.
I also find a laundry room and a coat closet. On one of the last doors in the hallway, I knock and open it right away only to find Sean standing at a bathroom sink, splashing water onto his face.
He raises his brows when he looks over at me, drops of water still dripping down his face and into the black V-neck he’s wearing. There’s even one hovering over the edge of his tattoo. “Um, I’m in the bathroom.”
My jaw drops, and I immediately step back and close the door in front of me. “You could’ve called out when I knocked,” I say. The longer I stand outside, the more anger starts to creep through me. “And the few times I called out. I’m sure you heard me.”
The door whips open then, and there’s a straight-faced Sean in the doorway. His cheeks are a little flushed, brightening the freckles sprinkled all over his otherwise pale skin. “I heard you,” he said.
“I know,” I tell him. I thrust the water bottle at his chest, and he grabs it. He peers down at the water and then turns, throwing it directly in the trash.
My face feels like it’s on fire. I just watch as he turns toward me with an evil smirk. I knew he didn’t actually want the water. He just wanted to fuck with me.
I smile, spin on my heel, and then walk toward what I now know is the smallest room in the entire house. “I’ll be in my room if you guys need anything,” I say.
When he doesn’t say anything, I turn to look at him with my hand on the doorknob. He checks his watch. “We’re going to be wanting dinner around five o’clock.”
“Okay…” I swallow some of the not-so-nice things I want to say down. “What would you guys like?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. It’s not five yet, and I haven’t talked to the guys.”
“Right,” I say, then just push my door open and step inside, closing it behind me, happily separating myself from him.
I fall awkwardly onto the bottom bunk, making sure I don’t hit my head in the process. I would’ve loved to do it much more dramatically, but apparently, I have the little kid room. I reach for my phone and tug it out before calling Heather. She answers the phone, and I let out a long-winded sigh that is simultaneously a cry for help and a show of frustration.
She laughs. “What’s going on?”
“These guys hate me.”
“Hate you? They just met you. Holy shit. Are they as hot in person as they are in that pic you sent me? I need details.”
“They’re assholes.”
She laughs, a sound that seems like it catches her by surprise. She does that a lot. “So, are they hot or not? Usually the assholes are super hot.”
“Well, then yes, they’re fucking gorgeous. If you add in their assholery, they’re on a whole other level.”
I can picture her smile deepening on the other end of the line. Heather has always been boy crazy. She was the first one to get a boyfriend. She’s also had double the number of boyfriends I’ve had. Her outgoing personality calls them, I swear. She picks them up as they flock to her like bees to honey. Guys just can’t help themselves around her. “Fan-fucking-tastic,” she says. “It’s about time you ended your dry streak, don’t you think?”
I roll my eyes practically into the back of my head. “It’s dry for a reason,” I say. “And I’m certainly not going anywhere near these guys. Despite the fact that they’re awful, they’re my work.”
“Ooh, dirty. I like it.”
“Heather, can you focus please? What am I going to do? They just tried to get me fired.”
She’s silent for a few moments as she composes herself. She does this to me all the time. She literally puts on another face when I ask her to and tells me what I need to hear. “Do you know what you’re going to do, Aisley? You’re going to forget about everything that’s happened so far and start new. I don’t care how awful they are, you are not going to let them ruin your dream. Mr. Nolan wants you to assist them, you assist them. You’re going to take their insults and bad attitude because one day, you’ll have one of those nice corner offices you were telling me about with the glass walls, and you’ll be able to tell them when they’re all washed up that you’re not helping them with their second-rate music any longer.” She takes a breath. “That’s what you’re going to do.”
I smile to myself and sigh.
“I love you, too,” she says laughing. “Now, send pics if
you can. Preferably ones with their shirts off at the beach. I bet they have abs for fucking days.”
My mind flits to Archer. Damn. He really did have nice washboard abs, the kind that dip and raise. The kind women dream about running their hands over.
I seriously need to stop that. I’m pretty sure we have a mutual hate-ship going on. “Maybe…” I hedge.
She laughs. “I knew you’d notice how hot they were.”
“Well, I’m not blind,” I say.
A laugh bursts out of her, the kind only my best friend can pull off. “Sometimes I think you are.”
I shrug her comment off. “But really, so what if they’re hot? They’re—”
The door to my room bursts open, showing off a smug Sean who stands there casually, leaning against the door frame. “Dream on, Aisley. The guys and I don’t fuck the help,” he sneers.
I sit up in bed, hitting my head on the top bunk, but that doesn’t stop me from stepping out and standing up right in front of him, my hand still clutching my cell phone. “You were eavesdropping on me? What the fuck?”
He slowly crosses his arms in front of his chest like he doesn’t have a care in the world. I can hear Heather’s voice buzzing on the phone even though I can’t make out the words she’s saying. He licks his lips, then a self-satisfied grin forms on his face. The same kind he had when he threw the water bottle I got him away. “Now you know what it feels like.”
He turns and leaves, leaving me there speechless. Heather’s tinny voice rouses me, and I bring my cell phone to my ear again at the same time I kick my bedroom door closed. “Fucking asshole.”
“What the hell happened?” she asks. “Did he burst into your room?”
“Yes,” I growl.
“Did you eavesdrop on them before?”
I suppose I did, but it wasn’t like I wasn’t invited to the conference call in the first place. “Maybe,” I say. Then, “Yes, I did. I guess.”
Heather sighs. “Alright, Aisley, pull yourself together. You got this.”
“They know I think they’re hot now. It’s all your fault.”
She’s quiet for a moment, but then she laughs again. “That’s not the end of the world. And who knows? Maybe they’ll be a little nicer to you now that they know you got the hots for them.”
That’s never going to happen. They don’t “fuck the help”. I’m pretty sure they think I’m nothing. “Ugh, this is the worst day ever.”
Heather tries to cheer me up, but it doesn’t work. I stay on the phone with her until her mom calls for her. She’s leaving for Europe in a couple of days, so her mom has been up her ass. Heather secretly loves it though.
We say goodbye, and I collapse back onto my bunk and rub my head where I hit it. That didn’t feel good at all, only helping the massive headache I have now.
I sigh. This definitely hasn’t been the best start to a job. They don’t want me here, and right now, I don’t really want to be here. What the hell am I going to do now?
5
It turns out the house is equipped with an intercom system, making me feel even more like the unwanted hired housekeeping help or a personal waitress than the band’s assistant. Last night, they buzzed me asking for their dinner, and I almost hit my head on the top bunk again, except I quickly grabbed my head to help shield it and my hand took the brunt of the collision.
I ended up ordering pizza for them, paying the delivery guy with a credit card they told me was in the kitchen—for incidentals only—and then delivering it to the kitchen bar before coming back down to my room to intercom them back that their dinner was ready. They must have been satisfied with that because I didn’t get buzzed again for the rest of the night.
It’s morning now though. I’ve already made my way into the bathroom I found Sean in yesterday and readied myself. With how much my stomach is grumbling right now from lack of food, I can’t put off going up the stairs and seeing if there’s something to eat any longer. I’m starving.
Bacon wafts toward me as I climb the steps. Surprise filters through me. When I’m high enough to look into the kitchen, I see Finnick standing in front of the stove with his back to me. My eyebrows shoot up. I hadn’t expected that at all. In fact, the only one that went through my mind that could possibly be cooking breakfast was Rex unless they actually hired a cook. I didn’t see any of these spoiled rockstars with huge chips on their shoulders cooking at all, actually.
He must hear me on the top step because Finnick turns, whirling around to look straight at me. For a moment, we just stand there staring at one another. He doesn’t immediately glower at me or send me scathing looks, so we just stay that way until he relaxes a bit, his eyes still penetrating, but other than that, he seems resigned that I’m here. Eventually, he nods before turning around, and I say “Good morning” to his back. Curious as to what he’s doing, I come around to the bar and peek over. Surprisingly enough, he’s got several different things going at once. A whole meal cooking, actually. Eggs, toast, and bacon. I look from his easy stance in front of it all and then back at the food. “I didn’t know one of you cooked.”
“Just breakfast,” Finnick says not bothering to look up. In his spatula hand, he has several different rings on his fingers. Black, silver, and black and silver. They glitter when he moves, making the picture before me even that much stranger. He seems out-of-place in a way, but also comfortable at the same time. If I’m honest with myself, I like the juxtaposition, but I’m determined not to think of them as hot guys anymore. That already slapped me in the face yesterday, and I’m sure Sean didn’t keep the words I said to my best friend in private to himself. By now, they all know I think they’re good looking. Bottom line though, I work with them and for them. That’s it. Finnick shrugs. “It’s the only good meal we get around here, so I try to do it every morning.”
I take a seat at the bar and look at my surroundings. I didn’t get a chance to really enjoy the house yesterday. There’s no sign of the other guys, which is nice. I’m not sure I want to handle them all at once this early in the morning. Before I can drag myself into thinking about that, the view outside draws me in. I thought about leaving my room last night to check the beach out, but I was too terrified of running into one of the guys, so I figured it wasn’t worth it.
I was wrong.
It’s totally worth it. I won’t make that same mistake again. Even if shit goes downhill fast today, I vow to enjoy my time here because who knows how short-lived it could be. The Rowdy Rogues seem like they’re used to getting their way, and right now, they don’t want me around. “Are the rest still sleeping?”
“Must be,” he says. “They’ll get up soon though.” He flips the bacon. The smell permeates the air even further, and I’m sure that’s what’s going to get these guys up and out of their rooms. In fact, I even think Finnick is counting on it.
“Can I, um, help you at all?” It seems only right to ask since I’m the one who’s supposed to be assisting them. Right now, I’m not doing anything.
Finnick waves toward the cupboards nonchalantly. “You can set the table.”
He immediately goes back to cooking, so I look through the cupboards myself, determined to memorize where everything is. I need to become as familiar with this place as I can if I’m going to be assisting them day in and day out. In fact, I should try to get out of them what they need from me. They certainly don’t want anything from me right now other than to be gone or possibly order them food, but if I can show them I’m here to help, that might change.
A girl can dream, right?
Mr. Nolan sees me as someone with drive and passion. He needs to keep seeing me like that so I can keep this job and hopefully move up in the future, which means I have to endear myself to these guys.
Heather was right. We need to start over.
I find the plates in the far cupboard and pull them out. As I go around the table to set the five plates down, I think about all the things I can offer to do for them. I can make their daily
schedule to keep them on track. I can…answer the phone? Take notes? God, it’s useless. What I really want to do is sit in on their writing sessions. I want to be around music. I want to help them write the damn music. I’m sure that’s the last thing on their mind though. To them, I’m just a nuisance.
As soon as I find the silverware and finish setting the table, Archer stumbles down the hall. He stretches his hands above his head. His pants droop low, showing off the sharp curves of his muscles that disappear under the waistband of his shorts. I look away immediately after I realize I’m gawking. Though, I don’t think he’s seen me because he’s full on yawning, the sound like a bear first emerging from his cave.
He does a double take when he notices me, then puts a disgruntled mask on his face before sitting down at the table. I get a bowl and two serving platters I find in the recesses of the cupboards and lay them out on the counter next to Finnick, so we can take them to the table. While he scrapes the frying pan of the remaining eggs, dishing them into the bowl, I say, “I can cook breakfast too, so maybe I can make it tomorrow?”
I scold myself internally. I’m walking right into becoming their maid, but this is what they hired me to do. Just because I don’t like it doesn’t mean I can’t do it, and then at the end of all of this, I’ll have shown Mr. Nolan what I’m capable of.
My mother tells me to kill people with kindness. I’ve never really understood it before. Mostly because I can have a sharp tongue when I think people are being douches, but in this case, I think it might work. If I can get these guys to trust me—hell, even like me—I’d already be closer to helping them with their music.
It’s a longshot, but I’ll take it. I mean, what else am I going to do?
Finnick hasn’t answered. He keeps quiet, but when he hears other footsteps padding in, he looks up. I follow his gaze and notice Ian and Sean are making their way into the room now. Finnick was right. He knew they would be up soon enough.
Ian strides over to the table as confident as can be. He sits, legs spread wide like he’s dominating the room. Sean runs his hands through his red hair, peeking over at the breakfast Finnick has made. I admit, it smells delicious, and my stomach rumbles in response.
