“I don’t negotiate with terrorists,” I spat back.
“You’re so dramatic. I believe you missed your calling to be an actress.” A hand clamped around my wrist. With his other hand, Billy pried the phone from my fingertips. He scooted off me to stand at the edge of the bed. Dammit, I should’ve put a lock code on my phone. But snooping rock stars had never been a problem before. “Now let’s see what you’re trying to hide.” His tongue played behind his cheek as he thumbed through my missed calls. His forehead wrinkled and he tensed. “Who the fuck is Colonel William?”
I slid off the bed and re-tightened my robe. My father had been calling. Again, I don’t know why I felt like it was such a big deal. Probably my compartmentalizing issues. I didn’t want Billy to know about my father. About how much it hurt when he didn’t call, and how it hurt even more when he did. How could I explain it? I didn’t even understand it myself.
“Is he that Navy SEAL?” Billy asked, much affronted.
“There’s not a colonel ranking in the Navy,” I said, throat dry. I opened my mouth to ask for the phone to call my father back. But it was too late, Billy had hit redial. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. The volume was up loud enough I could hear the ringing. I grew desperate and leapt for the phone. Billy frowned and turned, holding one arm, hand splayed on my chest, he kept me at bay.
My father answered on the third ring. “Sweetheart?” his gruff, dry voice reached me. I pictured him in his office on base, starched uniform on, blinds closed—whenever I’d visit him I’d open them, let the light in.
“No,” Billy said with a distinct frown. I stopped struggling and just kind of stared at Billy. It was all I could do. Damn the man and his superior strength. “Who’s this?” he asked.
“Who’s this?” My father volleyed back. Billy may have met his match in the take-no-shit Colonel.
“This is Daisy’s sex toy.” Billy answered. What. The. Fuck. My eyes drew wide. Of course, my father knew I was a nanny for Billy Wanks. What he didn’t know was that I had sex, like ever.
“This is Daisy’s father. Put my daughter on the phone before I have the entire U.S. military deport your ass.”
“Right.” Billy nodded, pulling the receiver from his ear. “Flower, your father would like to speak to you.” I snatched the phone from Billy. “Sorry,” he mouthed with a grin.
I took a deep breath and answered, “Hi Dad.”
“Daisy who was that?” The Colonel’s tone was even, but I could tell he was pissed.
“It’s Billy, my boss, he was just joking around.” The words tumbled out of me in a rush.
I heard my father breath in deep. “Tell him he’s not funny.”
“Will do.”
“How are you?” he asked.
“I’m good.” A few seconds ticked by. This was how it always was between my father and me—awkward conversations full of stilted silences. Maybe that’s why I didn’t want Billy to overhear, to see firsthand my dysfunctional relationship with my father.
“You’re doing okay? You don’t need anything?” The Colonel always asked if I needed anything, perhaps an airstrike or personal bodyguard.
“All good,” I said lightly.
I could feel Billy’s heated, wondering gaze on me. I turned so I faced the window and looked out. The view was magnificent, a park with a blue river running through. I held up my middle finger, effectively flipping Billy off behind my back. It was the best I could manage without shouting for him to get out. Billy chuckled, then I felt his lips on my finger. His mouth opened, lapped the tip with his tongue then he bit down. I jumped and swirled around, staring him down. He put his hands up and stepped back.
“That’s good.” How many times had we said “good” in this conversation, in our lifetime? Everything was always good or fine or okay. “Listen, Sheila,” his secretary, “reminded me it’s your birthday in a couple days.”
My mouth formed an O. “Yeah?” I said carefully. Please don’t tell me you’re going to come visit. Please don’t.
“I have to go out of town tomorrow. And I won’t be able to call.” When I was a teen, the Colonel often went on strange deployments where he’d leave me alone for weeks at a time. If I had an emergency, I’d have to call his secretary, and she’d go through the channels to get ahold of him. I’d done this once when I was scared, I thought for sure someone was outside the house trying to break in. When my father called back, I heard gunshots in the background. I apologized and told him it was nothing. “So I’m calling you now to wish you a happy early birthday. I’ve got a gift for you, but I’m not sure where to send it.” Translation: Sheila bought a gift for you, and she needs to know where to send it.
I chewed on my thumb. “We’ll be in Vegas for a couple days. I can send you the information for the hotel.”
“Okay. Happy birthday, sweetheart,” he said.
“Thanks,” I said back. We exchanged a few more pleasantries before hanging up. He didn’t say I love you and I didn’t either. We disconnected and I rubbed my brow. Conversations with my father always left me exhausted, a little depressed.
“So that’s dad, huh?” Billy said.
“Yep.”
“You never really talk about him.”
“Nope.”
“Quit with the monosyllables, flower. I don’t like it.”
I glared at him. “Sorry,” I said. Ha, that was two syllables.
“He sounds like a pompous ass.”
“He’s not, he’s just busy. He has a really important job. The military, it’s not easy.” Fighting war, keeping the world safe and all that. Nothing like a nanny does.
He tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. “How’d you get a name like Daisy? Doesn’t seem a man like that would name his daughter after a flower. Seems like he’d name you something like Ingrid or Beatrix or Hatchet Face.”
I let out a dry laugh. This made Billy smile. “Hatchet Face?”
“You know what I mean, something harsh and rigid. You’re much too soft to be the daughter of a colonel.”
“What would you have named Addison?” Since Billy wasn’t around for Addy’s birth, I naturally assumed he didn’t have a say in naming her.
“I don’t know. I never thought of it really. Probably something ridiculous with too many vowels, like Penelope or Chrysanthemum.”
“Addy fits her,” I said.
“It does.”
My shoulders slumped. I gazed at my phone. “My mom was named Iris. She was kind of a hippie, a free spirit—they had the whole opposites attract thing going. I think maybe he loved her so much that when I was born, he didn’t have any love left over for me.”
“Ah, I’m sorry, flower. We men can be complicated creatures.” He shuffled his feet then opened his arms. “Come here.”
I glanced at the door. “Addy—”
“Is stuck in SpongeBob land. Come here, let me make you feel better.”
“You just sounded a little like a creepy uncle.” I crept closer. An inch away and Billy wrapped his big, muscled arms around me, squeezing me tightly to his body. I rested my cheek on his bare chest, on top of the “a” and “n” of his “Made in England” tattoo. His breath hitched, and his hand rubbed up and down my back. This was a new type of intimacy for us. I fell a little more, a little harder. I started to pull away but he held tight, chin on top of my head. “Not just yet, flower. We have to hug for at least thirty seconds, it releases endorphins.”
Good enough reason for me. I clung to him. He smelled amazing. Spicy cologne and his natural scent, I turned my cheek to get a better whiff. So good. I felt him harden against me. But he ignored it and didn’t try to cop a feel. Pity.
“What’s he sending to Vegas?” he asked.
I exhaled hard. “He wants to send my birthday gift there.”
His hands settled on my hips and he pushed so he could look down at my face. “Your birthday?”
“Yeah, it’s Friday.”
“And when were you planning on telling me this?”
He shook his head and clucked his tongue. “This isn’t nearly as bad as your dalliance with the tutor, but it’s up there. I don’t like you keeping things from me.”
“It’s not that big of a deal,” I repeated.
“Maybe that’s because no one has ever made it a big deal.”
I wiggled my toes into the carpet. “Can we just be done talking about this? I want to take an epically long shower before getting back on the bus.”
“Want me to join you?” he asked, a note of hope in his voice. “I’m very good with soap.”
Heat pooled at my core. Sweet Billy had left the building, and in his place stood sexy Billy. I didn’t know which one I preferred.
“No,” I said sadly. “This is a one-person job today.”
“Addy’s a big girl, she can handle seeing me with someone.” Not true. Not true at all. Children were fragile creatures. Addy needed stability.
I kissed the middle of his bare chest. “I’m going to shower. Alone.”
Billy huffed. Too bad. Despite the hug, some of my melancholy had hung around. I needed the shower and some time by myself to transition back to happy Daisy. Wash off all that bad. I dragged my feet all the way to my room. At the threshold I paused, seeing Billy opening the door of the suite. He’d donned a shirt and was stuffing his wallet into his back pocket, muscles straining under his thin shirt. Damn, he was so fine.
“Where are you going?” I called out.
“I’m taking a fucking therapeutic walk.” He slammed the door. The edge of my mouth curled up. Billy’s bad mood had an opposite effect on mine. Suddenly everything felt a little better, a little brighter. It was going to be a good day, despite my father’s call, and the long bus ride, and stinky Turner.
We arrived in Vegas with little trouble. As soon as the bus parked, Billy and the band were hustled off for sound check, which left Addy and me to check into the big, fancy hotel on our own. We stayed in the lobby for twenty minutes oohing and ahhing over the massive, brightly colored glass display suspended from the ceiling—with Caleb, one of Trent’s goons, close by, just in case.
We waited in line to check in. Addy tugged on my shirt hem. “I’m bored. How come we have to wait in line?” When we traveled with the band we never waited in lines. In fact, there was always somebody waiting on us, for us. I could have called ahead and had a manager standing by but honestly, I hadn’t thought of it, and it would be good for Addy to see how regular people lived.
“We’re just getting our room keys.”
Addy rubbed her stomach. “My tummy hurts.”
“When we get up to the room, I’ll get you some Pepto-Bismol.” On the bus Turner and Addy had shared a bag of caramel corn.
Her nose scrunched up. “Is that the pink stuff?”
“Yeah.”
“Yesss!” She did a fist pump. She loved the taste of Pepto-Bismol, and cold medicine. Weird kid.
Caleb kept his distance, eyes darting everywhere. The security was unnecessary. Nobody knew who Addy and I were. Case in point, the conversation happening behind us.
“I wonder if we can get tickets for Wanks and Janks tonight,” a girl said. I put my chin down and glanced behind me. Two girls stood, both in denim cutoffs and belly shirts. Each had one of those fantastic stomachs, lean and toned and tanned. I poked my soft middle. It took a moment to bounce back.
“Gawd,” her friend said. “I’d kill to go to that concert. I’d fucking climb Billy Wanks like a tree. I heard him and Jett tag teamed a girl once.”
A flush spread from my chest to my neck. I hadn’t heard that rumor before, and I’d heard everything about Wanks and Janks. They were a PR nightmare. Is that what Billy liked, sharing girls? Somehow I couldn’t picture Jett getting so down and dirty. He slept with a rosary tacked above his bed and called his mother every Sunday, for goodness sakes. But then again, I’d also seen him getting a blowjob from three groupies backstage while smoking a joint. I watched for maybe a second too long thinking, the quiet ones are always the most depraved.
Addy leaned into me and whisper-yelled, “Are they talking about my dad?” she asked.
“No.” I gave her a little push between the shoulder blades, ushering her up to the counter. Our time came to check in. “It’s someone else named Billy Wanks.”
“Huh,” was all she said.
“Checking in?” The lady clipped out. I scrolled through my phone and found Perry’s email confirmation for the hotel, including the check-in name.
I looked to the ceiling before answering. “Pat McRotch.” One of the band’s favorite pastimes was coming up with pseudonyms. Turner had a special affinity for private-part monikers: Dick Hertz. Dick Johnson. Phil McCrevice. Such a dirty man.
Other than a slight reddening of the cheeks, the attendant gave no outward reaction. “How do you spell that?”
I spelled it for her. Upon seeing the reservation her mouth parted. “Oh, you’re part of the Wanks and Janks party,” she said under her breath. “I’m so sorry we didn’t have you checking in for another few hours. A manager was supposed to meet you, let me just get him now.”
Five minutes later and not one but two managers greeted Addy and me, with a flute of champagne for me, and some sort of fancy Italian soda for Addy. I whipped it out of her hands before she could take a sip. “I thought you said your stomach hurt.”
She grinned. “It’s feeling better now.”
I let her have the drink then followed as the managers escorted us to the top floor, where an even better suite than Boise awaited us. I took my time caressing the cream wallpaper and bouncing on the four-poster bed. In the bathroom I was surprised to find a note from Billy stuck to the shower. When had he done this?
A shower that fits ten people and a bathtub to swim laps in. Hope you’re happy. Feel free to show your gratitude in the form of weeping at my feet.
x,
Billy
I hugged the note to my chest and stepped inside the shower. It had three heads. Three! My heart twisted inside my chest at the sweet gesture. For a man who didn’t do shit for anyone, he seemed to be doing a lot for me. I leaned against the tiled wall and let myself sink down. This fantasy felt too real.
A few hours later, a knock at the door. Addy skipped to answer it. She threw the door open and Trent stood smiling, gold tooth flashing. He flicked her nose. “You’re supposed to wait for Daisy to answer.”
I peeked up from my position on the couch. “What’s up Trent?”
He shook his head and entered, letting the door swing shut behind him. “What’s the use of me putting security procedures in place if you don’t follow them?”
“I knew Caleb was out there. Guy’s a bulldog, he wouldn’t let anyone through. Besides nobody knows we’re here yet. I scared the crap out of the managers when we checked in. It’s the band you’ve got to worry about, trouble follows them everywhere.” As soon as word got out where Wanks and Janks was staying people would be camped out in the lobby, booking rooms in the hopes their key cards will give them access to the penthouses. Not likely. Trent ran a tight ship.
“What’s up, big fella?” I asked, clicking through television shows.
“Billy wants you and Addy. I’ve come to fetch you.” That’s all he said. For a moment I’d forgotten we were living in Billy Wanks’ universe. He said jump, and we said “how high?”
“What for?” I asked.
He shrugged a beefy shoulder. The man was built like a brick shithouse. Along with a gold tooth, gold bracelets adorned his bulky wrists. “Dunno.” I studied him for a moment. He was hiding something. He wouldn’t quite look me in the eyes.
“What’s going on?” The concert wasn’t until tomorrow night. I assumed the band would be out rabblerousing until the sun came up. And then Billy would appear and try to climb in bed with me,
and I’d have to push him out. I was looking forward to it. I might even give him a little hand action. My rules were bending.
“Where’s your purse?” Trent asked. “I’ll get it for you. Does Addy need a coat?”
I leapt from the couch, clicking off the television. “Does this have anything to do with Billy texting up a storm during the bus ride?” I asked. He’d been unusually quiet on the bus, fingers flying as he communicated with someone. I purposely didn’t ask questions, part of the whole “letting him fly free” thing. Proving I could be the cool chick, even though I was dying inside to know what he was up to. Especially because he was probably making another mess I’d have to clean up. Like firing his cook, or an assistant. Speaking of which, we needed to replace Joseph ASAP. Billy didn’t know, nor would he ever, but I’d been texting with the tutor. He assured me everything was fine, and he’d found a position with the Peace Corps, something that suited him much better. I wished him well, and that had been the end of it. But knowing Billy, he’d pitch a fit. “Make yourself at home,” I said to Trent’s back as he walked in and out of rooms, searching for my purse.
“C’mon Daisy, we’re burning daylight we gotta go. The cows have to be back before midnight.”
“Cows?” I asked, stupefied.
“Do you know how hard it is to find milking cows in Vegas?” Trent asked. He had my purse in hand. “Let’s go.” He gestured at the door.
Addy spoke up, “Woohoo cow field trip. I’ll get my jacket.” She scurried to her room.
“You going to tell me what’s going on?” I asked Trent, one last-ditch effort before I blindly went along with the man.
Trent smiled and it looked like a sneer. “Daisy, some of the best things in life are surprises.”
My bitching and prying intensified as our limo left the strip and drove into an industrial district. “Oh my god, is he going to finally kill me?” I asked Trent. “Please tell my father that I love him and forgive him for being such a cold bastard.”
Trent chuckled. As we slowed Addy had rolled the ceiling window open and hung out of it. She screamed into the sunset. I hoped she’d never lose her sense of adventure. The limo slowed to a stop and Addy ducked from the ceiling window, popped open the door and ran out into the parking lot. I waited a breath.
Hard Lessons: (A Wild Minds Prequel Novel) Page 15
