by Lauren Rowe
Now Keane hoots with laughter. “Oh, man, she’s good. She’s playing you like a xylophone, Z. Ha!”
I roll my eyes, even though I know he’s spot-on. That motherfucking girl is playing me like a goddamned xylophone and it’s driving me up the wall.
Keane continues, “She’s wagging her little mouse ass in front of you, the hungry cat. She’s like, ‘Hey, kitty-kitty! Make your move already, you big pussy!’”
I can’t help laughing. Fucking Peen. “I gotta go, honey nuggets. I’m sure Aloha is wondering where I am. Good luck at your big audition tomorrow.”
“Thanks, kitty-kitty. Have fun with your cute little mouse.”
I disconnect the call without responding and head down the hall to Aloha’s nearby room. Aloha never texted me, but she’s gotta be in her swimsuit by now. But when I knock on Aloha’s door, she doesn’t answer. So, I send her a text saying I’m standing outside her door and then knock again. Still nothing. I press my ear against Aloha’s door... and I’m jolted to hear quiet, muffled crying inside her room.
Panic floods me. “Aloha?” I shout, banging on the door.
The crying stops. But Aloha doesn’t reply.
“Aloha!” I yell, rapping on the door again. “Are you okay in there?”
“I’m fine,” her feeble voice calls out. “Go to the pool without me.”
Shit. I reach into my pocket and finger the keycard to her room. I’ve never used Aloha’s room key before. Crystal said it’s only for emergencies, and back when she said that, I understood that to mean physical emergencies, like a fire or something. Does a situation like this count as an “emergency”? “Open the door,” I command. “Or I’m coming in with my key.”
“Don’t come in,” she says. “Go swimming. I need to be alone for a bit.”
I press my forehead against the door, my heart racing. “Aloha, I need to see your face or I’m coming in.”
“I don’t want you to see me. I’ve been crying.”
Fuck. Barry warned me there’d be at least a handful of days on this tour when, out of nowhere, the stress and grind would get to Aloha and she’d have a bit of a cry. Maybe even a meltdown. Indeed, during my training with Barry, he said an important part of my job is gaining Aloha’s trust early on so she’d let me be her shoulder to cry on whenever she hit a wall. But things have been going so damned well, and Aloha has been such a machine, day after day, I’d forgotten all about Barry’s warning. Until now. “Sweetheart, if you’re crying, that’s all the more reason to let me in,” I say into the closed door. “If you let me in, you won’t need to explain your tears to me. I’ll just hold you while you cry on my shoulder.”
There’s a long silence. When she finally replies, her voice is coming from mere inches away, like she’s leaning against the other side of the door. “Go swimming, Z,” she says. “I won’t leave my room, I promise. I just need to be alone and write some poetry and cry. I do this sometimes. I’m fine.”
Oh, my heart. “Sweetheart, as your bodyguard, I can’t hear you crying and walk away. I just can’t. At least not without seeing your face to make sure you’re in one piece.”
For a long, agonizing moment, I remain still, my forehead and palms pressed against the wood of the door. I hear her sniffling, mere inches from me.
Finally, the doorknob turns... and the door opens, just a crack. “See?” she says through the tiny sliver of an opening. “I’m fine. Just feeling sorry for myself. Being a wimp.”
Every fiber of my body wants to push open the door and take her into my arms. But I refrain. “You’re not a wimp to be sad and exhausted. You’re a human being.”
She sniffles.
“Why are you sad, honey?”
She pauses. “I just got off the phone with Satan. And it wasn’t a pleasant call. I just need to cry for a bit and write poetry and then I’ll be fine in the morning. Go to the pool. Have fun.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m not going to ‘have fun.’ Not with you sitting in here boohooing. I’ll go to my room and come back to check on you in an hour. Text me if you need me before then and I’ll come running. And by that I mean I’ll literally sprint to you, Aloha. As fast as my legs will carry me.”
She nods. But doesn’t return my smile. And then she silently closes the door in my face.
I grit my teeth. Goddammit, this job is such a mind-fuck! Hanging out with Aloha, day in and day out, has been tricking my brain into thinking we’re tight as ticks. Two peas in a pod. But, clearly, she doesn’t feel as close to me as I feel to her.
I turn around and begin marching to my room, my heart racing. Fuck! And to add insult to injury, I gotta text Barry now. I text him an update every day, of course. But until now, they’ve all said the same thing, essentially: Aloha’s great. We’re really clicking. Couldn’t be better. But today, for the first time, I’ve got to write a very different kind of update:
Hey, B. AC is crying in her room. Said she had a bad phone call with her mother. I made her open the door a crack so I could see her. I tried sweet-talking her into letting me into the room to be her shoulder to cry on, but no dice. Heading to my room now. Told her I’d come back in an hour and to text if she needs me before then. Not sure what else to do.
Barry’s reply comes immediately:
It’s a good sign she cracked the door for you. I’ll take it from here. Don’t check on her later unless you hear from her or me. And if she acts like nothing happened tomorrow, then follow her lead. Thanks.
If she acts like nothing happened tomorrow, then follow her lead? What kind of horseshit is that? My nostrils flaring, I shove my phone into the pocket of my swim trunks. Fuck! It pains me to think Aloha’s in her room, crying her eyes out, and she’d rather be comforted by Barry over the phone than by me in person.
For a split second, I feel the thumping urge to disregard everything Aloha said—everything Barry said—and turn around and run back to her and blast into her room using that emergency key, whether Aloha likes it or not. After all, when Barry trained me, he told me to always trust my instincts, didn’t he? He told me to be myself and be a true friend to her... Emboldened, I turn around and head toward her room again. But when I reach Aloha’s door, I hear chuckling inside the room, like she’s laughing through tears. I can’t make out what she’s saying, but I can hear Barry’s rumbling voice mingled with hers, like they’re talking on FaceTime or speakerphone. And there’s no doubt he’s comforting her effectively—the way I’m dying to do. Well, shit. I’m a day late and a dollar short, son. Apparently, Barry’s got this under control and I’m not needed. With a heavy sigh, I turn around and drag my exhausted, rejected ass back to my room.
Chapter 25
Aloha
I fall off Kiera’s shoulders and splash spectacularly into the swimming pool. Kiera and I have just lost a hard-fought battle of chicken against two of my shit-talking band members. We’re in Portland now, just over three weeks into the tour, and we’re finally getting around to having that post-show pool party I’d originally suggested back in Boise.
I emerge from my graceless dunking into the pool and immediately search the surrounding patio for my trusty bodyguard. When I find him sitting at the far end of the patio, chatting with the cyborg, I wave my arm and call out to him. When Zander’s dark eyes train on mine, his eyebrows shoot up like he’s asking if I’m okay. I shoot him two thumbs up and motion for him to join me in the pool.
He shakes his head.
I nod yes.
He shakes no.
I shout, “I need you to be my partner in chicken! Kiera sucks ass!”
“Hey!” Kiera says next to me, splashing me.
The cyborg motions to Zander, clearly telling him to get his ass into the pool, and Zander, God bless him, gets up from his chair, pats his pants like he’s explaining he’s gonna get changed into his swim trunks, and then glides out of the pool area straight into the hotel.
And I swoon. He’s ridiculously sexy, no matter what he’s doing.
&n
bsp; Kiera nudges me. “You two getting it on yet?”
“Not yet,” I say miserably. “Yet being the operative word, I hope.”
“How is it possible you two haven’t even kissed yet? You guys ogle each other every minute of every day.”
“It’s gonna happen soon. I can feel it. I mean, for God’s sake, how many times can a guy cover his boner before he breaks down and makes his move?”
“Why don’t you make your move? Who cares what Barry says.”
“It’s not just Barry. I promised Zander early on I’d back off and let him make the first move. Plus, to be honest, I’m a wimpy little fraidy cat. Afraid of rejection. I don’t think he’s still hung up on his stupid ex-girlfriend, but what if he is? Last I heard, he wanted to try to win her back in New York. I don’t think that’s still the plan, but I don’t know for sure. He’s never said anything about it, either way.”
Kiera shakes her head. “He doesn’t want her. He wants you.”
“Then he’d better let me know that, once and for all.”
She sighs. “How crazy is it the entire world—including every single person on this tour—thinks you two are banging each other’s brains out at every opportunity and, in reality, you haven’t so much as kissed.”
“Please, don’t remind me. I’ve never been so freaking horny in my life.” I look toward the entrance to the pool area. “Good God, how long does it take for a sexy man to throw on swim trunks?”
“Maybe he had to jack off in his room before coming back down.”
“Are you trying to kill me? I dream about having sex with him every night. Don’t put the image of him jacking off into my head, too. I’ll spontaneously combust in my sleep.”
“Dude, forget what you promised him way back when about not making the first move. Go for it. He won’t reject you.”
“He might.”
“Okay, then, turn up the heat and make him make the first move. Things can’t go on like this, AC. Something’s gotta give.”
I pause. “You’re right.” I nod definitively. “Tonight’s the night. One way or another, I’m gonna get Zander Shaw to make his move on me tonight if it’s the last thing I do.”
“Atta girl.”
“I’m irresistible, after all.”
“Damn straight.”
Loud laughter on the other side of the pool draws our attention. A bunch of my dancers are performing a splashing rendition of the choreography for “Pretty Girl.” I glance toward the patio entrance again for a long moment, willing my sexy bodyguard to appear. But when he doesn’t, I grab Kiera’s arm and we join our friends at the other end of the pool to join the dance.
Chapter 26
Zander
Congrats, Peenie!” I say.
I’m sitting in my swim trunks and a T-shirt in my hotel room, talking to Keane on FaceTime. Keane’s call caught me just before leaving to head back down to the pool and I couldn’t resist taking a few minutes to catch up with my beloved Wifey.
On Keane’s end of the video chat, he’s sitting on his parents’ couch in Seattle. He and Maddy arrived in their hometown earlier today in anticipation of Aloha’s concert tomorrow night and the big Lasagna Dinner the following night. And, much to my elation, but not my surprise, my best friend just told me he’s one of three people still in the running for what he says could be a “life-changing” role for him, a recurring role in a big-money, big-production limited TV series coming to HBO—a show that’s going to feature a big-name movie actress in the lead role.
“What’s the part?” I ask.
“The movie star is a married college professor and I’d be the student with whom she’s having a torrid affair. I’d appear in five of the show’s eight episodes, two of which will feature ‘highly graphic sex scenes’ between me and the movie star.”
“Wow. You’re cool with doing graphic sex scenes?”
“Bah, it’s just skin,” Keane says breezily. “The part that actually scares me is what I’d have to do in the fifth episode. The professor breaks it off with her student and then he totally wigs out on her. Like, he starts wailing and telling her he loves her and turning into a total cling-on.” Keane chuckles. “So she winds up trying to hire a hitman to kill him in episode six but everything turns to shit on her. How sick is that?”
“You’d have to cry if you get this part?”
“No, I’d have to bawl. Like, blubber my eyes out.”
I laugh. “You think you could do that, especially on cue in front of a room full of people?”
“I know it because I already did it. I had to do the blubber scene at my last callback in front of, like, eight people. I actually did the scene with Miss Movie Star herself.”
“Holy shit, Peenie! And you blubbered?”
“I bawled like a baby, baby doll. The River Jordan gushed out my baby blues and down my little apple cheeks.” He laughs. “Seriously, I smashed it, Z. Obliterated it. I didn’t commit murder that day, it was genocide. It was the best I’ve ever done the scene, by far. Maddy practiced it with me a thousand times and that one time, when it really counted, I took it next lev.”
“How the hell did you make yourself cry in front of all those people?”
“I just did what my acting coach taught me to do. That whole morning, I thought about something really sad from my life—the day Colby had his horrible accident. And then, when the moment came at the audition, when the movie star broke it off with me, I imagined she’d just told me you’d been killed in a car wreck.”
“Jesus.”
“And that made me burst into soggy tears. And then, as the scene went on, I imagined myself at your funeral, standing over your coffin, crying my eyes out. I imagined having Maddy whisper to me, right then and there, ‘I don’t love you anymore, Keane. I’m in love with someone else.’”
“Holy hell, Peenie.”
He snaps his fingers and a huge smile lights up his face. “And boom. I could barely get my lines out, I was wailing so hard. At the end of the audition, I looked at all the people in the room—the director and casting director and whoever else the rest of ’em were—and I knew I’d slayed it. At least two of them had teared up. Plus, the movie star told me I blew her away.”
“Holy motherfucking shit, Peenie. You’re totally gonna get this part!”
“Gah. No counting chickens, love muffin. It stresses me out.”
“Peenie, there’s no doubt in my mind you’ll get it and become the next big thing. I feel it in my bones.”
“Dude, don’t jinx me. There’s still two other guys they’re considering, and both of them have tons more experience than me. I’m sure the other guys smashed their auditions, too.”
“They’ll pick you, Keaney.”
Keane shows me crossed fingers. “Worst case scenario, if they don’t pick me, I’m pretty sure the casting director will keep me in mind for future projects. She pulled me aside after my audition and said I was ‘deeply moving’ and ‘riveting.’”
“The part is as good as yours, son.”
He shudders. “Okay, new topic. I’m shitting my pants just talking about it. My agent says we should find out any day now, maybe even as early as today, and I don’t wanna think about it too much in the meantime or I’m gonna barf.”
My stomach is somersaulting with excitement for my best friend, but I dutifully move onto another topic. “So how are things going with the lovely Madagascar Milliken? Still great?”
Keane looks behind him, clearly checking to see if Maddy is within earshot somewhere in the Morgan house. “Better than great, baby cakes. Fantastic. Perfect. Blissful. In fact, she’s the reason I’ve even got a shot at this amazing role. Why do you think I told my agent to start sending me out for dramatic roles, and not just frat boys and strippers and football players? Because Maddy encouraged me to do it. She said I’m a whole lot more than a pretty face and I shouldn’t let anyone tell me otherwise. She said I’ve got ‘depth and talent beyond just making people laugh or drool’—and that eve
n my Ball Peen Hammer videos are proof I’ve got a gift to make people feel. She said I shouldn’t be afraid to let people see all sides to me, not just the joking side. She told me to dream bigger and not let anyone define me but me.” He smiles broadly and his dimples pop. “The girl totally believes in me, Z. The same way you always have. Man, you should hear the pep talks she gives me. She makes me feel like I can do anything, the same way you always have.”
Goosebumps erupt on my arms. “Aw, Peenie. This is music to my ears. And I agree with everything she said to you, by the way. But you already know that.”
Keane sighs happily. “I swear, if things keep going this well with that smart-girl, I’ll be hard-pressed not to lock her down before our one-year anniversary.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Lock her down?” I ask, unsure if Keane’s definition of that phrase matches mine.
“Put a ring on it,” Keane says without hesitation, much to my shock. “Get down on bended knee. Pop la grande pregunta. ‘Plight my troth.’”
I chuckle. “Plight your troth?”
He snickers. “It sounds super dirty, huh? That’s why I like it. It’s actually just old-timey speak for proposing.”
“Holy shit, Peenie. Who are you?”
“Crazy, right? Wait. You don’t think that’d be seriously crazy of me, do you?”
“Not crazy at all. If you’ve found The One and you’re sure of it, then why wait? Don’t dip your toe into the pool of love, son. Cannonball into it, all the livelong day.”
“Thanks, Z. So catch me up on everything going on with you.”
“There’s nothing much to tell. I’m working hard. Learning a lot. Having fun with Aloha.”
“Are you learning enough to get yourself onto Daxy’s tour after this one is over?”
My stomach tightens. I know that was my original goal when I took this job—using the domestic leg of Aloha’s tour as a stepping stone to get myself onto Daxy’s tour with Red Card Riot, just in time for those guys to begin their domestic leg. But, now, I can’t imagine not continuing on with Aloha when she heads overseas after New York. But since nobody has mentioned me continuing on with Aloha, I keep telling myself not to count my chickens. “We’ll see what happens,” I say. “How’s Dax? I saw their first single just cracked the Top 100 on the charts. That’s huge.”
