That was the catalyst for him to place his hands on my hips and start kissing me again. This time he started kissing me softly up and down my neck and my knees became so weak I legitimately feared I might fall over.
"I like you, too," he whispered. I began wondering while we continued making out if he had a girlfriend back in Michigan that he had neglected to mention, and if he had ever slept with a girl. I would be a little terrified and a lot disappointed if the answer to either question was "yes," so I dared not interrupt the action to ask.
His hand began moving up my t-shirt which was both thrilling and alarming. I was a little freaked out for things to be progressing so quickly, but also terrified to ask him to stop because I didn't truly want him to. My mom had never advised me about knowing when was the right time to go all the way with a guy. She had told me more times than I had wanted to hear that she was sixteen when she had lost her virginity, but had only told me that I would know when the time was right.
But she hadn't said how I would know.
Somehow kissing a guy for the first time and going all the way in a matter of a few hours seemed way, way too fast.
Suddenly, unexpectedly and horribly, we heard the pop of the key card unlock the door to the suite. We jumped about a foot away from each other as the front door opened and Keith entered. He looked as surprised to see us as we were to see him.
"Hi, Keith," I stammered. "Jake just brought me home."
What an asinine thing to say. But it was all I could think of, and it was, after all, the truth.
"I can see that," Keith said. "It's getting late. Probably time for Jake to be heading home, himself."
"Goodnight, Taylor," Jake said, saluting me like a soldier. I noticed that he was a little crimson in the cheeks. He stepped past Keith and left quickly.
"You better get to bed, young lady," Keith warned me.
My head was spinning for hours after I got into bed. For the first time since my mom died, I was actually happy and excited. I couldn't wait to call Allison – I had gone from novice kisser to having made out with a cute guy twice in one night. But as head-over-heels as I was for Jake, I also felt disturbed and uneasy about what had happened. I suspected there was a lot about his life both back in Michigan and on the road that I didn't know about, and he wasn't going to share with me. And then there was the slippery issue of when and how we would again meet.
It occurred to me that I probably would have been willing to go as far as Jake wanted that night if Keith hadn't interrupted us, and I didn't know his last name.
And then I thought of Kelsey, sick at the hospital, and was disgusted with myself for not being more worried about her. She was my little sister, and I was beginning to realize that behaving like a good big sister was genuinely important to me.
CHAPTER 8
The rest of the tour shipped out to Virginia the next morning for the weekend, while Dad, Jill, Kelsey and I remained in Alabama. Saturday and Sunday were agony for me. I was carefully trying to avoid one-on-one time with my dad, and perpetually wondering where Jake was and if I would see him again once we got to Virginia.
On Saturday morning at the hospital cafeteria, my father mentioned casually, "You're awfully quiet today."
I shrugged. "There's just a lot going on."
I wanted to confront him about what I had seen in his dressing room, but had no idea where to begin. He had stepped into my life and taken control of a desperate situation for me, and in many ways I was just as much his guest on this tour as I was his kid and entitled to perks. I had no right to judge his personal habits… did I?
"Seems like you and the boy from the t-shirt stand have struck up a friendship."
I dared not make eye contact with him and instead studied my cornflakes while I answered nonchalantly, "Yeah, I guess."
I felt my cheeks turning red as I wondered if Keith had ratted me out. It would be mortifying if my dad knew that I had invited Jake into our hotel room when no one else was there; my dad could not be further off from the truth if he assumed from this bit of gossip that I was some kind of teenage slut. And the only thing that could be more humiliating than my dad suspecting me of being a big slut was my sex-symbol dad finding out that two days earlier, I had only been kissed once, poorly, by one of his fans.
A few moments of stagnant silence passed before my dad continued.
"You know, Taylor, one of the things I've learned over the years is to always be a little skeptical about people's intentions. Especially on the road… it's usually safe to assume that everyone around the band is hanging around for a selfish reason."
I swirled the cereal around in my bowl gently trying to control my instinct to scream at my dad to mind his own business.
"You're wrong about Jake if you're implying that he's after something," I said carefully. I couldn't come right out and say that I didn't think Jake had any intention to use me to get closer to the band, because he didn't really seem that interested in Pound at all. "We're just friends."
"I know, I know," Dad said, backing down a little. "I just want you to keep your head on your shoulders. I don't want to see you get hurt. A lot of these fans, groupies, who are with us for the tour go back to very different lives at the end of the summer. This life is make-believe for them. It's just a fantasy with an expiration date."
I looked him in the eye and nodded to acknowledge what he was saying, but wondered if he was talking about Karina, or about Jake, or even about anyone specifically other than himself. And his choice of words had been particularly odd, because the entire experience of being on the road and sleeping on 1,000-count Frette sheets in luxury hotels felt like a fantasy that was going to run its course to me, too.
His words hung in my head for hours. All morning I fought against them tirelessly, believing whole-heartedly that he was wrong and Jake was truly interested in me for myself. By afternoon, when I was back at the hotel all alone, doubts had started to creep into my feelings about Jake. How could he be that interested in me if he had no way of contacting me when he wanted to see me? How well could he have possibly known me after our handful of brief meetings to be genuinely interested in me at all?
My mother had once informed me, "If a boy really likes you, he'll find a way to let you know." Her confidence in those words had made me overlook the possibility that a boy might also be shy, or afraid to make the first move. But they were stressing me out by dinner time when I rode with Herschel, the yogi, back to the hospital to visit Kelsey again before she went to sleep for the night.
Maybe I was being naïve about Jake. Was there something that being close to me offered him that I was overlooking? I feared that the more realistic possibility was the exact opposite; that I felt more needy and lonely than I ever had before in my life – even more than during my first weeks at Treadwell when I didn't know anyone – and the idea of having Jake for my boyfriend was becoming my life jacket. The affection he had shown me meant more to me than he could ever imagine.
That evening I was restless. I investigated the hotel's fancy indoor pool wearing a new red striped one-piece bathing suit that one of Tanya's minions had picked up for me at a nearby mall, but felt self-conscious treading water alone on the deep end while happy families and couples splashed and swam around me. I walked through the famous rose gardens on the grounds, but it was humid and sticky outside, even after the sun started to set, and mosquitoes attacked me relentlessly. I was discovering that travel was not all that fun if you were on your own and didn't particularly care that much about the locations you were visiting. I was so disinterested in spending time by myself at the hotel that I actually even began wondering if Dad or Jill would come back to the suite to have dinner with me. The thought of ordering room service alone was not very appealing.
Around ten, I sat alone in the hotel suite, having already flipped through all nine hundred channels available on the television. I dared to call Allison out of desperation, fearing that she wouldn't be home because it was a Saturday night. B
ut to my surprise, she answered.
"Yeah, I'm at home tonight," she grumbled. "I have to work the dawn shift and I would have been a third wheel, anyway."
"What do you mean, third wheel?" I asked.
"You know," she said. "Nicole and Todd. They went to go see a movie at The Grove. I think it's kind of gross that she's getting with my brother, but he seems to like her, so I guess it's none of my business."
My heart stopped beating for a second. All thoughts of Jake vanished from my mind. Todd was going out with Nicole Farley?
The very idea made me feel so distraught that I wanted to rid myself of every summer memory I had of spending time with the Burch family. If Todd was going to fall in love with any of Allison's friends, it was supposed to be me. I had been pining away for him for years. He had been the boy I wanted to marry since… as long as I could remember. First grade. It was just outrageously unfair that Nicole could swoop in with her big chest and new car and in a matter of days steal my dream boy.
"Oh," I said flatly, trying to hide the level of surprise in my voice. Allison had dropped the bomb on me so casually, it seemed a little like she was intentionally trying to hurt my feelings. She knew how I felt about Todd. Couldn't she have done anything on my behalf to dissuade Nicole from going after Todd? "I didn't know they were together."
I heard Allison yawn on the other end of the line. "Yeah, well, Nicole puts out and makes no big secret of it, and Todd's leaving for college in six weeks, so he might just be using her. But who knows."
The possibility that Todd was probably going to sleep with Nicole – or was maybe even having sex with her at that very second – made me feel even sicker.
"I have news," I said, trying to change the subject and make myself feel better. "I kind of have a boyfriend."
"Tell," Allison commanded, sounding more like her old self.
After I filled Allison in on all of the details I had about Jake, naturally leaving out all of the missing pieces, like not knowing his last name or having his phone number, Allison released a long sigh.
"Great," she muttered. "Now you're going to have a real boyfriend and I'm going to be the last virgin on earth. I want to see pictures of him."
After we hung up, I sat on the couch for nearly twenty minutes feeling like a rock. My throat ached and I felt like crying, but my eyes remained dry. If it is possible to be too sad to cry, I think that's what I was. My entire life as I had known it prior to that summer was completely gone. Wiped clean. And worse than that, the entire future that I had always fantasized for myself was gone, too.
A month before, I had truly looked forward to the possibility of seeing Todd on the East Coast in the fall. Now, the thought was revolting. Allison had always been my best friend, like a sister, and I wasn't sure what had happened since my mom had died but I felt like I couldn't even trust her anymore. She was making me feel like our friendship was a burden.
I was so confused and just wanted everything to be simple again. I felt like a satellite being hurled through outer space, with no direction and no destination. Who knew where I would end up or how I would feel when I finally arrived at wherever it was I was headed? I was feeling less and less like myself. I wished there was a way to just go back to Treadwell a few weeks early… if for no other reason than to inhale its comforting stinky dormitory smells.
And worst of all, I missed my mom. All of the sadness I had been unable to feel at her wake had caught up with me. I missed her so much I felt like my heart had been torn out of my chest. Even though I knew no one would answer, I called our old phone number at the house in West Hollywood hoping to hear her familiar outbound greeting, "Greetings! Dawn and Taylor aren't here to answer your call, so leave a message, and we'll call you back."
But my dad must have had the line disconnected, because a woman picked up on other end. "Ola?"
"Is Dawn there?" I asked foolishly.
"No," the woman said with an accent. "No Dawn."
I curled up on the couch, frowning as I watched television without really paying it any attention. I fell asleep there, wishing my mom would just come to pick me up and take me home.
I woke up the next morning in the same position, my eyes puffy and my temples throbbing, when Tanya let herself into the suite.
"Rise and shine," Tanya chirped when she saw me rubbing my eyes on the couch. "Your parents are on the way back from the hospital, and we've got a plane to catch at two."
I stretched and yawned. It was July third. Pound was playing a big show on the fourth at Virginia Beach, with a full fireworks show, and it was fortunate timing that Kelsey had recovered from her illness in time for us to travel. I didn't bother correcting Tanya's error in referring to my dad and Jill as my parents.
"Everything all right?" Tanya asked, studying me after I stood and stretched.
"Yes," I said, not especially wanting to open up to a woman more than twice my age who seemed to wear wool-blend suits by St. John's 24-hours a day.
******
As if the universe had taken the matter of my loneliness upon itself as an issue to resolve, there was a surprise waiting for me in Virginia Beach.
Bijoux and Betsey Norfleet, Wade's daughters from his first marriage (to cosmetics heiress Nadine Von Weurth), were filthy rich, foul-mouthed, and terrible influences. They would be joining the tour for a week as part of their annual visit with Wade. The rest of the year they lived in a penthouse in New York with their mother, who had remarried an insanely wealthy count from Eastern Europe. Technically they were some kind of royalty through this remarriage, with preposterous titles.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Taylor," Bijoux purred when we were introduced over dinner the night I arrived in Virginia with my dad, Jill and Kelsey.
Bijoux had bleached blond hair and a tattoo of a seahorse on her left shoulder blade, visible at all times because rarely did she wear anything other than a bikini top and I don't think there was a sleeve in her entire wardrobe. She was eighteen and had just graduated from high school. Never did she mention having plans for higher education, but she often talked about doing guest-star spots on reality television shows and launching a handbag line.
Betsey was fourteen and looked more like Wade than Bijoux did. She had his round face and curly hair, and appeared to have inherited his body type and appetite as well. Bijoux was stick thin, and clucked her tongue at Betsey during dinner twice when she reached for second helpings of baked beets and cous-cous.
Both of the Norfleet sisters had their father's steely gray snake eyes, which gave them the visual appearance of being up to no good, and that was usually the case. Bijoux had already been engaged once to a TV sitcom star, a relationship that had ended in a bar brawl despite the fact that she was far under the legal drinking age. Nylon Magazine had featured the sisters in a fashion photo spread, which had led to Marc Jacobs placing them in one of his iconic ads. They had a huge online fan club based in Asia. They had the lifestyle of a rock star's daughter down to a science.
"This place is a total dump," Bijoux declared that night at the pool, waving her hand around to imply that she was talking about the hotel.
I kept my mouth shut. I had actually been thinking that the hotel in Virginia Beach was the nicest one I had seen yet. We were drying off on deck chairs after taking a sunset dip in the enormous heated outdoor pool, and the waiters had been bringing us icy virgin banana daiquiris in fancy cocktail glasses. I was only down at the pool with these girls, of whom I was a little frightened, because Jill had strongly urged me to make friends. It had crossed my mind that I might see Jake if we lingered at the pool, but after spending only a few minutes in the company of the famous Norfleet sisters, I began praying he would not surface. I was not sure what I would do if Jake were to become the prey of Bijoux. I feared Bijoux was as dangerous as a raptor when it came to boys.
"What's up with your granny swimsuit?" Betsey asked me, sneering at the red and white striped suit that I had been given in Alabama. It had a halter top and a
cut-out in the back that I had thought was kind of risqué for me. "Did your stepmother pick that out?"
"Tanya sent someone to buy it for me in Huntsville," I said. Until Betsey had opened her mouth I had thought that the bathing suit was kind of sophisticated and liked it.
"Gag," Bijoux added. "You're cute. You should borrow one of my bikinis."
I agreed, flattered that Bijoux would offer to share with me, and kept my fears about potentially catching some kind of disease from her bikini bottoms to myself.
"Speaking of granny clothes, Jill's hot," Betsey continued, on the subject of my father's wife. "She should work it more. I don't know what she's thinking, dressing like some kind of a Stepford wife with all these groupie whores flirting with her husband all the time."
I kind of wished Betsey would shut up, because I was feeling more than a little sensitive about my dad and all of his groupie whores. If Jill dressed more like my mother, it would have just freaked me out. As much as I didn't like Jill, I was appreciative of the order she brought to our lives and was instinctively protective of her role.
"We're hitting the boardwalk tomorrow," Bijoux continued, changing the subject. "You should totally come. You're probably climbing the walls by now being surrounded by these geriatric dorks."
"What's at the boardwalk?" I asked, childishly hoping that the answer would be ferris wheels and funnel cakes.
"Boys and bars!" Betsey exclaimed. "Duh. That's what all boardwalks have."
The sisters were not exaggerating. We left our hotel the next day and my father seemed pleased that I was getting along so well with Wade's daughters. Bijoux had put me in one of her many, many bikinis – and I was feeling uncomfortable enough in the miniscule red string number that I wore a t-shirt over it. Not the Norfleets, though, they both wore bikinis and flip-flops as their outfits and we drove to the boardwalk in the silver Mercedes convertible that Wade had rented for Bijoux's use.
The Rock Star's Daughter (The Treadwell Academy Novels) Page 9
