by E. M. Moore
“So, what exactly has been plaguing you guys while you’re making this album?”
Ian turns toward me sharply. “What the fuck do you care?”
My head careens back. There’s so much venom in those five short little words that he practically blows me backward. “I was just curious.”
“So, you can run back to Mr. Nolan and tell him everything you found out?”
I shake my head. “I’m not—”
“You’re not what?” he challenges. “You’re not telling Nolan everything that goes on here? Don’t be naive. Why do you think he hired you?” I try to come up with something to say, but Ian just charges ahead like he doesn’t expect an answer from me anyway. “I don’t think you’re that dumb at all. I think you know exactly what you’re doing. We don’t need a Big City spy here, Aisley. You’re not fooling anyone.”
My mouth drops. “I’m not a spy. Are you serious?”
The guys all send me bored, disinterested looks laced with the kind of fury that’s just casually waiting to be unleashed. My stomach starts to twist. They really hate me. “Did Nolan tell you to keep him updated on how things are going here?”
I open my mouth to shoot that down, but the words get stuck in my throat. Mr. Nolan did tell me to watch them and report back. I’m their babysitter. I lock my jaw down.
“Yes or no, Aisley? It can’t be that hard of a question, can it?”
“No,” I say, voice hard. If Nolan didn’t outright tell them that’s one of the things he sent me here to do, there has to be a reason.
Ian laughs dangerously and Sean jumps in with him. “Liar.”
I stand, hands coming to fists again. “I’m not a spy,” I say. “Is that why you guys don’t want me here? Because you think I’ll go running back to Nolan?”
“He called you right after we all conferenced in with him.”
Ian looks away from Sean, his gaze callous as he raises his eyebrows. “He did? Now that’s interesting.” He settles back in his chair like he’s going to be my judge, jury, and executioner.
“He just wanted to know why you guys didn’t like me.” And that part is the truth.
“What did you tell him?” Ian asks.
“She told him she would fix it,” Sean says, crossing two pale arms in front of his chest, his hazel eyes fixed on me.
“Spoken like someone who needs us to like her.”
“Because it’s my job,” I say.
“What? Being a spy?”
I shake my head. “Wow. You guys are fucking paranoid. What information could I possibly get out of you that Nolan would want?”
“She’s either stupid or naive,” Archer says, flicking a glance toward his bandmates.
“I vote both,” Ian says.
“Fuck you,” I retaliate. I know I shouldn’t let them goad me, but what the fuck? I haven’t done anything wrong, but I’ve been labeled as enemy number one since I got here.
Ian just laughs at my insult. Fire scorches my veins. I try not to lose my cool because I have a feeling they like doing exactly this. They like pushing buttons, they like bringing people to their knees. Like masochists, they get off on other people’s misery. I’m certainly not going to give them the satisfaction.
I make my fists unclench and straighten my fingers out. A few of my knuckles crack. “I told Nolan I’d take care of it because I want him to like me.”
Finnick raises his brows. “What for?”
Sean shakes his head. “Isn’t it obvious? She’s one of those.”
“One of what?” I ask, feeling like I’m walking headfirst into a forest of nope, but can’t stop myself.
Sean gestures toward me with his hands. “She already just said she likes to write shit down in a notebook. Isn’t it obvious? She’s a wannabe musician. She thinks she can use us to jumpstart her career.”
I take a step back. Sean’s hazel eyes are cold. A shiver runs through me, but there’s something mixed in with his menacing gaze, too. Something under the surface that he’s doing too good of a job of covering up. Has he been burnt this way before?
What he’s accusing me of, anyway. I’m not doing that to them. I want to make my own way.
“Ohh,” Ian says. “Did sucking his dick not get you what you wanted?”
I step back again. His words hit me like a slash of a whip. They all lean forward, like they know they have me on the ropes. It’s obvious. I’m barely keeping it together on the inside, which means I’m not doing a good job on the outside either.
“I don’t think she’s his type,” Archer says, giving me a once-over that makes me want to shrivel into a corner.
My face blazes red. “I would never do that,” I counter. He hired me fair and square. I sat through two freaking interviews after sending in my job application and music samples, but none of that matters to them at the moment. They already have their minds made up about me. “Wow,” I say, letting all the bitterness I feel for them right now seep into my words. There’s nothing I can say that will make this better. “It must really suck living in your world. Not being able to trust anybody...”
“You have no idea,” Sean says. He keeps his gaze latched onto mine.
Whatever game we’re playing, I’m losing. After taking a deep breath, I grab the platter from the coffee table and head back downstairs without another word.
“Hey, Aisley?” Ian calls out, making me pause at the top of the stairs. I don’t look back, but he must see that I’m listening because he continues. “We meant it when we said we didn’t want you around.”
I push forward, making my feet carry me downstairs. Leveling with them didn’t do me any favors. I’m not sure anything I say or do will help where these guys are concerned. They already have me pegged as the enemy.
Maybe I should do the same.
7
Just like they wanted, I don’t bother the guys the rest of the day. In fact, I try not to think about them at all. I change into my bathing suit, put on a cover-up, and make my way out to the back porch.
As soon as I step outside, the salt, the wind, and the heat hit me. The deck itself is so much bigger than it looks from inside. On the far left is a huge hot tub, big enough to fit a dozen people inside. I don’t know how I didn’t notice it before. I walk by, trailing my fingers in the water, then make my way down a set of steps to where a platform opens up with more beach chairs. The upper deck is the biggest, then each platform gets smaller and smaller until there’s just one set of regular steps that reach the sand. The smallest platform has one single hammock running across it. This house must’ve been made for parties or vacationing families. Big City did some things to it to make it work for their artists, but its true construction purpose is still here.
Unfortunately, I’m not sure the whole family vibe fits The Rowdy Rogues. They stick together to gang up on me, but I don’t think it stays when I’m not around. To be fair, though, I haven’t spent that much time with them to tell. They won’t let me.
However, I can see why they aren’t done with their album yet. There’s just so much here to occupy them that has nothing to do with music and responsibilities.
My toes sink into the hot sand as I walk further out. Once I find a good spot, I take the beach bag I brought from home and drop it in the sand. I dig inside the bag for my beach towel and spread it out. It’s late in the afternoon. There are still a few families out here, but not as many as I saw earlier in the day. Then again, maybe people don’t sit in front of the houses other people own. Further down the beach, I see a stretch of beach where more people seem to have gathered, so I guess that might be where the public beach access is. Who knows?
I sit on my towel and dig around in my beach bag for sunscreen, so I can spray myself down. Afterward, I lie back, closing my eyes to the sun even though I have a pair of sunglasses on that keeps most of the bright rays out. For some reason, though, the sun seems so much brighter here. It’s such a contrast from the dark moods of every guy inside the house behind me. It’s h
ard to disentangle myself from what’s going on, but soon, I’m lulled into a peace. It has something to do with the sun warming me up and the gentle crashing of waves against the shore. That sound could unwind anybody.
When it starts to get too hot, I sit up just to peel off my cover-up then lie back down again, getting even more comfortable in the sand. This is the one good thing about this job. Being here. Since they don’t want me around, maybe I’ll just continue to do this until Nolan realizes I’m not doing what he asked me to do.
Ha. It’s a nice fantasy for sure, but it’s not me. I don’t know how I’m going to crack these guys, but I’m going to. They don’t even have to like me. I don’t care. But we need to be able to work together. Maybe that’s how I should have approached it with them. I shouldn’t have just butted in. I should’ve asked first. But, I’m pretty sure I did that this morning and didn’t get any clear answers of what they need from me that way either.
I try to make my mind go blank. Thinking about the angry band members back at the house makes me get all itchy. They’re killing my vibe out here while I’m trying to soak up the sun.
Unwinding for a few hours really helps. Eventually, I don’t need my sunglasses anymore because the sun is trying to hide under the horizon. When I finally open my eyes, I suck in a breath. The sunset is absolutely breathtaking. I reach inside my bag and pull my phone out. I snap some pictures and send them to Heather. She’ll definitely appreciate this. She might give me shit for not having any guys with washboard abs in the pictures, but she’ll get a kick out of it.
After appreciating it for a few more minutes, I toss my phone back into the bag, and then walk toward the shoreline where the hot, dry sand meets the damp waterfront. My feet sink into the sand, crumbling between my toes. Out a little further on the water, a guy and a girl paddleboard by. Silhouetted by the pink streaks in the sky, they look like they could be models for a honeymoon brochure. Hell, they look like they could be Heather and any guy she’s ever dated.
Jealousy crawls up my throat, and I try not to think about my last boyfriend. We ended it six months ago. We weren’t right for each other. We were just two different people trying to make pieces fit that were never going to. I suspected it was more me anyway. I love the idea of having a boyfriend. I love the idea of having those warm, fuzzy feelings Heather talks about, but I can’t say I’ve ever experienced them myself. Or real ones, anyway. I’ve tried to force it before, and that just never seems to work.
I shake my head, wondering where these depressing thoughts are coming from. I guess it’s impossible not to think about it surrounded by this beautiful water and eye-catching sky. All of these images are things synonymous with love. Or at least picture representations of those feelings. How many books have I read, or movies have I watched with love scenes with backdrops exactly like this?
It’s kind of cliché to say that I want something like that. I mean, that’s what everyone wants in college, right? Sure, we’re there to get an education, but there’s a lot more going on than that. People find their forevers in college. My parents did. I’m about to hit my third year, and I haven’t found jackshit.
I wade into the water. It’s surprisingly warm while still being refreshing. I move further and further out until I sink beneath the surface. I come up, smoothing my hair back and breathing in deep, just so I can go back under again. I don’t dare open my eyes in the saltwater but scold myself for not grabbing snorkeling gear. I’ve always wanted to go snorkeling. I tried it once on that one and only beach trip I took, but I was too young to enjoy it and got scared. This might be the perfect opportunity to do something like that.
The sun descends fully behind the horizon. When the moon starts to shine bright and the stars all come out, I walk back to my towel and dry off as much as I can before pulling my cover-up on. After wringing my hair out, I let it fall down my back, dampening my cover-up as I pack my bag up and start my short journey back to the house.
I didn’t leave the house unprepared. Even brought my key with me. I wouldn’t put anything past these guys right now. Accusing me of sucking Mr. Nolan’s dick? I shudder. Gross. He’s twice my age. Not that any of that matters. I would never do anything like that to get ahead.
Surprisingly, the glass door opens easily, and I slip inside, pulling it shut behind me carefully.
“Here she is,” Ian says. Before I even look at them fully, I know something’s up. Ian just has a tone about him. My skin starts to crawl.
Glancing up, I find all four guys sitting around the table they ate breakfast at that morning, a single cell phone sitting in the middle.
I bounce up on my toes. We certainly didn’t leave things all sunshine and roses earlier. Maybe it’s just from having some time out of the house, but I feel more optimistic now. I can turn this around. “Yep, I’m here,” I say. “Listen, I—”
“Jesus,” a staticky voice says. “Where have you been, Aisley?”
My eyes catch on the phone. “Mr. Nolan?” I gasp. I stare at the guys. Each of them are wearing almost matching smirks that send a warning bell through me.
“The guys called me,” he says, his voice scolding. “They were worried about you. They said they hadn’t seen you since lunch. It’s nine o’clock at night.”
I glare at them. These fucking assholes. “They were worried about me?” I ask, not bothering to hide the humorous venom in my voice.
“Yes. That’s what usually happens when someone disappears for over seven hours.”
“I didn’t disappear. I—”
“You know what I should be doing right now, Aisley? Helping tuck my five-year-old into bed. Instead, I’m on the phone with the band because the assistant I hired to help them was nowhere to be found.”
I clamp down on my jaw. “They—”
“Were you in the house, Aisley?” Mr. Nolan asks. It’s clear he doesn’t want any excuses, only a yes or no answer. “They were looking for you.”
“No,” I say with finality, wanting to stick up for myself, but knowing there’s no way I can. Not now.
A loud, excruciating sigh comes from Nolan’s end of the line. Finnick shifts in his chair, his gaze darting to mine, but he looks away quickly afterward. “You’re only being paid for half a day today, and that’s being generous.”
I open my mouth to argue with him, but what am I going to say? The band practically ran me out of the house? The truth is, I didn’t work a full day today, whether it was their fault or not. I still chose not to be around for them.
“Yes, Sir,” I say, straightening my back.
Ian’s gaze narrows to a point. He watches me like he expects a different reaction.
“Don’t let it happen again,” Nolan spits, then the line cuts out again, a familiar sound coming from him. He seems to like hanging up on people.
“Let’s get one thing straight, you fucking assholes,” I say, trying to keep my voice calm, but failing miserably. My phone buzzes inside my beach bag. I know it’s Heather who’s responding to my picture texts of the beautiful sunset outside, but I don’t let that deter me. “Do not fuck with my job. I tried helping you earlier, and you all but assured that I wouldn’t be bothering you again. Make up your fucking minds.”
“Oh, our minds are made up, Aisley,” Ian drawls. “We don’t want you here.”
“So, you’re making sure of it?” I ask, even though there’s no need for a question at all. I just want Ian to hear himself say it. Maybe if he realizes how petty he’s being, he’ll grow the fuck up.
He nods.
“Good for you. You took money right out of my pocket. You’re taking the dream right out of my hands. I’m sure everyone is super proud of all of you.”
Ian’s jaw ticks. I can tell I hit a nerve.
“I hope acting like complete dicks is worth all of this to you,” I say, gesturing toward the cell phone. My eyes burn. I feel like I’m going to cry. It’s not because I’m upset, though I am. I hate being reprimanded, especially by someone who could r
eally have a hand in my future career, but it’s because I’m so mad. Sometimes when I get this angry, it comes out in weird ways. I’ll probably cry myself to sleep tonight, all the while asking why I do this. “Congratulations,” I say, willing my tears to stay trapped inside for just a little while longer. “If you’re trying to get me fired, it’s probably working.”
I turn, making my way directly down the stairs and all the way down the hall to my small room. I don’t even bother rinsing my feet off in the tub, I pull my beach towel out of my bag and wipe them off, making sure all the sand is gone before I change out of my bathing suit and cover-up and into my pajamas. Once I’m lying in my bunk, I finally pull my cell phone out and open the text from Heather. She’s sent me three heart-eyed emojis.
My hands drop, and I hold my phone to my chest for a moment, trying to remind myself that there are good people out there in the world. Not all of them are jerks and as dickheaded as The Rowdy Rogues.
I turn on my side. There really is no correlation between the guys who made that first album and the ones in this house right now. Their fans must be so disappointed when they meet them, but then again, I’m sure they’re on their best behavior during meet-and-greets, keeping up their public persona.
Just not with girls like me. Girls who want something more than anything. Girls who are willing to take a job as an assistant just for a leg up.
Well, fuck you Rowdy Rogues. You fucking suck.
8
My eyes are scratchy, and they don’t want to open when a loud noise wakes me in the middle of the night. I blink and wipe at my face, feeling the tell-tale dried tears that left crusties at the corner of my eyes.
I hear the noise again and place my feet on the tile to peek at the intercom. Sure enough, it’s lighting up like someone is trying to talk to me, but mainly I just hear loud bangs. When I hear an angry, “What the fuck?” I scramble out of the room and make my way upstairs.
