She narrows her gaze at me. “You’ll be on the road with whom?”
“With Nic Rayne and his band,” I admit.
“What?” she screams again, even though she’s standing right next to me.
“I’m going on tour with Always Rayne. I’ll be like an imbedded reporter, but instead of being imbedded with troops, I’ll be imbedded with a rock group.”
“And this was something you volunteered to do?”
“How long have you known me?”
“Almost fourteen years.”
“After all these years do you honestly think I volunteered to go on a seven city tour with a rock band fronted by a guy I can’t stand?”
“You’re right. Stupid question. Better question: Why couldn’t you get out of going?”
I plop down on my bed. “My boss gave me an ultimatum. He basically said he’d fire me if I didn’t go. He said I was the only reporter who could go because Nic specifically asked for me.”
“I knew it. He likes you. I could see it in his eyes when he looked at you.”
I shake my head. “He definitely doesn’t like me. If anything, he views me as some kind of weird specimen that he wants to observe. Kind of like an animal in a zoo.”
Brooke removes the rest of the clothes from my suitcase. “You can’t take any of these things. Not when you’re going on tour with a rock band. You’ll stick out like a weirdo even more than you already do.” I guess she can see the look of horror on my face because she quickly back peddles. “You know I love you dearly. You’re the sister I wish I had. But you dress like some hippy librarian, which is a little weird.”
“That’s what Nic said. He used the same words. He said that I dress like a hippy librarian.”
“As if I could like him any more than I already do. Luckily, we’re almost the same size. You can take some of my clothes. I was looking for an excuse to go shopping anyway.”
“But…” How do I tell my best friend that I don’t want to borrow her clothes because I don’t want to look slutty?
“I insist,” she says. Before I have time to protest further she starts searching through her closet, pulling out mini-skirts and short belly-baring tops. I have no idea how I’m going to actually wear any of it. My stomach is already starting to knot just looking at the outfits.
By the time my suitcase is packed, I wonder if it’s me who’s actually going on this trip or some kind of mash-up clone of Brooke.
“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”
Brooke shrugs. “Sure. Why not?”
I narrow my eyes at her. “You know why not.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“I won’t go if you’re not going to be okay. You know that.”
“First of all, I’m going to be fine. And second of all, I don’t want to be responsible for you getting fired. And third of all, I want you to promise me you won’t act like a forty-year-old. Start having some fun while you’re on tour. I want to hear a full report and it better include you getting laid.”
I hold up an index finger. “First, if you’re ever not fine I want you to call me and I’ll fly home right away. I don’t want you to relapse because I’m not here to watch your every move.” I hold up another finger. “Second, you’re more important to me than any job. Even my dream job.” I hold up a third finger. “Third, I will try to act like the twenty-three-year old I am but don’t count on me getting laid anytime soon.”
“Are you sure you know what you’re doing with those clothes? Do I have to label them so you know which tops go with which bottoms?”
I laugh but part of me thinks labeling them might not be such a bad idea.
Three
I’m supposed to meet Almost Rayne in Los Angeles. It’s a quick flight from San Diego. After I deplane and retrieve my suitcase I have no idea what I’m supposed to do next.
My suitcase is so filled with Brooke’s clothing and my books that I’m actually struggling to carry the bag through the airport. I’m assuming some guy with a sign will be meeting me somewhere but I’m not sure why. Maybe because that’s what happens in movies. There are a lot of guys holding signs with names like Brad Smith and Harry Jones but not one of them says Harper Leigh.
“Harper,” I hear a male voice behind me. I turn around to see a thin young man with wavy red hair and lots of freckles standing behind me. He’s dressed in skinny black jeans and a button down black shirt. He looks like a hipster leprechaun.
“How do you know my name?”
The guy grabs my suitcase from my hand and smiles. “I’m Brad. Rayne’s assistant. I’m here to pick you up.”
“I thought you’d have a sign.”
“Nope. No sign. I know what you look like.”
“How?”
“Come on. I’ve got a car waiting.”
Brad is fast on his feet even lugging my overstuffed suitcase. “Rayne gave everyone photos of you. Told us you’d be with us for the final stops of the tour. Welcome. I heard you’re a hot shot reporter. Highly recommended. That’s cool.”
I can feel myself start to sweat. This isn’t what I expected. How did Rayne get photos of me? And how did I go from being a recent college grad on her first really big writing assignment to being a highly recommended hot shot reporter? What kind of lies do I have to live up to? I can already feel the pressure building and I haven’t even really started the job.
Brad is now practically running which is a feat because his legs aren’t much longer than mine. I’m not sure how he can walk so fast. I wonder if I should tell him to slow down or if I should start jogging to keep pace.
“If you need anything just let me know. Rayne gave me explicit instructions that I was to assist you in any way. So treat me like your personal assistant too.”
“Okay,” I reply, even though I’m not sure exactly what a personal assistant does. “Can I make a request?”
“Absolutely. Anything you need. And I do mean anything.”
Anything? I want to request that he buy me tampons just to see if truly means anything. But first, a more pressing matter. “Could you slow down just a little bit? I feel like we’re running a marathon.”
Brad laughs but slows down considerably. “I was raised in Manhattan. We New Yorkers walk everywhere and we walk fast.”
I take in a few deep breaths to keep from passing out. “I was raised in San Diego. We drive everywhere.”
“Do you have any dietary restrictions? Are you okay with meat, dairy, eggs, shell fish, gluten, spices, and peanuts?”
“All together?”
Brad laughs. “No. That’s just our standard food allergy list. I just want to make sure when I order meals that you won’t go into shock if there are peanuts in the food or anything like that. The guys tend eat a lot of Asian cuisine.”
I shake my head. “No food allergies. I’ll eat anything.”
“What have you got in this suitcase?”
“Is it too heavy? I can carry it.”
“No. You’re not going to carry your suitcase. Rayne would throw a fit if he heard that. It just feels really heavy for just clothes.”
“Books,” I admit.
“How many?”
“We’re going to be on the road for ten days,” I say in my defense.
Brad laughs again. He likes to laugh. He seems like a really cheerful guy. “That’s not what I asked.”
“I guess there’s no pulling anything over on you.”
He shakes his head. “I’m Nic Rayne’s assistant. The guy is sharper than anyone I’ve ever met in my life. And I’ve got a degree from Columbia.”
There’s so much I want to ask regarding that statement alone but I’m not sure how much is appropriate to ask. He did say that I could request anything.
“I brought six books with me.”
Another laugh. “You really think you’re going to read six books while you’re on tour with Almost Rayne?”
“I was going to bring ten but I scaled back.”
We exit the airport and he wav
es at a limo parked a few yards away. “I’ll be surprised if you actually finish one of the books you brought with you.”
Now I’m the one who’s laughing. “You don’t know me too well.”
“And you obviously don’t know Rayne.”
The limo is spectacular. Not that I have any basis for comparison. I’ve never been inside a limo before. But it’s certainly beyond anything I’ve ever experienced. I’m still driving the used Honda Civic my mom and dad gave me when I was a senior in high school.
“Do you want anything to drink?” Brad asks.
I glance over at minibar. Do people really fix themselves cocktails while they’re riding in these things? Is that even legal?
“I’m fine.”
We sit in silence for a few moments until I get my nerve up to ask him some questions. “You went to Columbia?”
“I studied business and marketing.”
“How did you become Nic’s personal assistant?”
I hope I’m not insulting him but it seems strange that someone with a degree from an Ivy League school would be a personal assistant. Not that I’m even sure what he does aside from picking people up from the airport.
“You probably already know this but the job market the last few years has been pretty bad for new graduates. There’s a lot of competition for even the lowest entry level jobs. I’ve got massive student loans and Rayne pays really well. I figured why not. I’m still young and single. I can do this for a few years until the job market gets a little better. Plus I’m meeting a lot of people in the entertainment industry. I might make a move to LA in a few years and try to exploit some of those connections.”
“You said Nic Rayne is one of the sharpest people you’ve ever met.”
Brad shakes his head. “No, I said Nic Rayne is the sharpest person I’ve ever met. The guy is like a walking encyclopedia. He’s absolutely brilliant. And not just about one or two things. The guy can talk to anyone about anything. And he’s constantly thinking. His mind never stops. He’s got thoughts and ideas that are just mind blowing.”
“He doesn’t come across that way in interviews.” I thought he was a few bricks short of a load.
“He tries really hard not to intimidate people. He doesn’t want to alienate fans by being too smart. I guess it’s not that easy being something you’re not.”
More silence. I decide to test my hypothesis. “Would it be possible for you to buy me tampons?”
Brad doesn’t even hesitate. “Of course.” He grabs a small notepad and pen from his pocket. “What brand do you like and what count?”
I gulp. I guess I wasn’t expecting that kind of a response. I’m not even expecting to flow while I’m on the trip. Not that I’ve got much of a flow anyway. I’m still on the pill. I never took myself off when Jackson left. I like how the birth control regulates my cycle.
“Just a small pack. Just in case. I like Playtex Sport. The 18 count will be fine.” I’m humiliated, but it’s my own fault. Once you decide to start down a road you’ve got to keep going.
He jots a few notes down and returns the notepad and pen to his pocket. “I have three older sisters. You can ask me for anything. And I do mean anything. It’s not a problem.”
“Good to know.”
The hotel is nothing less than exquisite. From the lavish front entrance to the chandeliered lobby, I feel like I stepped out of my real life into a storybook fantasy. I feel like Cinderella: from the servant’s quarters to the royal palace in the blink of an eye.
Brad hands me a key card. “Your key for the suite. I hope you like it.”
He has a strange expression on his face. Like he’s holding something back. The hotel is amazing, beyond my wildest dreams. I can’t imagine any possible reason why I wouldn’t like my room.
“I’m right down the hall from you,” Brad says. “Room 1212. In case you need anything. We’ll be leaving first thing in the morning. You’ll just need to leave your suitcase right outside the door. Someone will come by to pick it up.”
“Okay.”
Brad grabs my suitcase again. “I’ll carry this upstairs for you.”
“Thanks.”
“One more thing.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a business card. He hands it to me. “This is my cell number. In case you need it. For anything.”
The way he says for anything makes me feel like there are things he’s not telling me. A chill runs through my body as the realization sets in that I’m actually getting ready to go on tour with one of the biggest rock bands in the country.
I’m standing in the middle of a massive suite bigger than the apartment I share with Brooke. Brad was very elusive when I asked him to clarify if this was really my room. There are doors to several bedrooms which lead me to believe that I’m not staying in this suite alone.
But I’m alone right now and I’m really not sure what to do. I don’t really want to unpack. We’re only staying one night. And I’m not even sure which of the bedrooms I’m supposed to be sleeping in. Are there other women on the tour? Maybe I’m staying with a hairdresser or makeup artist? Something like that?
I grab the book I was reading on the plane and take a seat on an overstuffed leather couch. I sink into it much further than I thought I would. I feel like the couch is trying to consume me. I’m sure I look like a little kid sitting in a grown-up chair for the first time.
I’m just starting to doze off when I hear the door to the suite open. I panic for a moment until I remember where I am.
Glancing up, I see Nic Rayne looking down at me. “You made it.”
He’s got an odd expression on his face. Like he’s not sure what to make of me. Every time I’m around him I feel more like a specimen than an actual person. Like I’m some strange creature that’s just been discovered that he needs to study.
I jump from the couch. I’m not sure if it’s okay that I was doing some pleasure reading. It probably wasn’t okay that I was starting to fall asleep. We haven’t had a chance to discuss any of the expectations Nic has for me while I’m on tour.
“What are you reading?” He glances down at the book in my hand.
“It’s not job related. I started it on the plane and I thought I might finish it.”
To my surprise he grabs the book from my hand. “The Alchemist. That’s pleasure reading for you? No Fifty Shades of Grey?”
I shrug. I’m not sure what to say. “I like all kinds of books. I read a lot.”
“Me too.” He hands me back my book. I’m not sure why I’m so taken off-guard. It’s everything. Him having a key to the room. Him walking in on me almost asleep. That he likes to read.
“Have you read Coelho’s book The Pilgrimage?”
I shake my head.
“You should. I think it’s even better than The Alchemist. It was his first book. He wrote it in 1987. It’s about his personal pilgrimage from France to Santiago de Compostela, Spain.”
I can feel my jaw drop. I’m not sure why I’m so surprised, but I am. Brad said that Nic was smart but maybe part of me didn’t believe him.
“I’ll put it on my to-be-read list.”
“If I had my copy with me, I’d give it to you.”
“You have a key to this room?” I glance at the key card in his hand.
He laughs. “Of course. I’m staying here.”
“What?” My eyes widen in response and I can feel the air being squeezed from my lungs. Nic and I can’t be staying in the same suite. Can we? How? Why? I can feel a few beads of sweat start to run down my forehead.
“You wanted to be embedded with the band. To get an exclusive inside story. What better place to do that than in my suite?”
My knees turn to jelly. In fact my whole body goes limp. I’m not sure if I should sit down because I feel like I might pass out.
“I thought embedded meant being on the front line with the troops.” I didn’t realize I was practically going to be in Nic’s bedroom.
“This is the front line. Thi
s is party central. This is where you’ll see all of the action.”
I’m not sure how much action I actually want to see. I wish there was a giant rock somewhere that I could crawl under.
“We can put your suitcase in one of the bedrooms.” He reaches for my bag and laughs. “What have you got in here?”
“Just clothes and a few books.”
“A few books? It feels like you packed a library.”
I try to grab the suitcase from him but he pulls it away. “Why didn’t Brad put this in your room?”
“I wasn’t sure which bedroom was mine.” And I have a feeling he didn’t want to be the one to tell me I was staying in Nic’s suite.
“You know you can ask him for anything. He’s your assistant too while we’re on the road.”
I nod.
He smirks. “Even tampons.”
I can feel my face getting hot and I’m sure it’s beet red. “He told you.”
“I wanted to make sure you got in safely. He was on his way to the store.”
“You can have this room.” Nic opens the door to one of the bedrooms and places my suitcase on the stand set up near the bed.
“I’ll be right next door.” He points to the adjoining room.
Great. I wonder how soundproof the walls are. I really don’t want to hear his escapades through the night. And if it’s true what they say about him in the tabloids, there will be a lot of nightly escapades.
“The guys will be here in a few minutes. I’ll introduce you to the rest of the band.”
“Maybe it’s a good time to talk about some of your expectations. Before the other guys get here.”
He nods and slides his hands in the pockets of his well-worn jeans. He’s also wearing an old Always Rayne T-shirt. It’s kind of funny seeing Nic Rayne wearing a T-shirt with a drawing of himself on the front of his shirt. I can see tattoos peeking out from his shirt sleeves.
Nic’s got a great body. There’s no doubt about that. He’s tall and muscular. He fills out everything he wears very nicely.
But he’s really not my type. He’s just so dark. And brooding. Maybe even slightly dangerous. Obviously rebellious. Not that I have much basis for comparison. I didn’t date much in high school. I dated Jackson all through college. If Nic had an opposite it would be Jackson.
Always Rayne (The ALWAYS SOMETIMES NEVER Rock Star Romance Series) Page 3
