Runaway Girl (Runaway Rockstar Series Book 1)

by Anne Eliot

  Vere quirks another brow. “Hunter went to bed an hour ago, but not our Adam.”

  “I’m strong.” Adam grins.

  “What about Royce?” I ask, not sure why I’m curious.

  Adam snorts a laugh. “Royce. He’s a straight-edge, not fun. No drinks for him.” He nods slow, neck going wobbly, like his head is extra heavy. “Because he’s a control freak. Royce—he needs to have a beer and relax. At least-get-laid or something—soon. I tol’ him I will send up a girl soon. I will. I will find one willing. Yep. And soon.” He nods. “Gonna-be funny surprise with the joke on him. He thinks I won’t do it, but I will.”

  Vere ignores Adam’s latest outburst again, and motions to the baby. “She’s freshly fed, bathed, and changed, but if you don’t mind, I’m not giving her up yet. She smells too amazing.”

  Adam sighs. “Baby jus’-smiled right into my eyes. This little baby-so-cute like a lil-apple, I say. Better than all the shows on telvv-lisishon, watchin’ her.” Adam slurs a few more words I can’t understand while he slowly stands, keeping his eyes on the baby’s face. He’s weaving so much that when he takes his next step I make a break for him, because I think he’s going to topple backwards.

  Luckily, before I intervene, he grabs the edge of the changing table and saves himself. He grins sheepishly at me, then points to the baby and Vere. “Do you see them? She looks so great with a baby. And Hunter—she an’ Hunter need to get married and make hundreds of these little things, too.”

  He places his hand over his heart, stumbling to the window and looks out with this expression that says he’s trying to remember where he is. “Dragons live right over-there in Orlando.” He bobs his head back in our direction. “Do you know we can’t even go on those rollercoasters? Thas-because we’re Guarderobe. That means no fun. No rides. Ever. Unless we wan-to-do it with people screamin’ at us the whole time.” He blinks. “Sometimes I think, maybe it would still be fun to try, but then I think…whaff-iff? Whaff-iff someone got hurt jus-trying to get a picture with me. That’s not good. But when I think like that, then I’m talking like my-boy-Royce. I should just go, huh?” He hiccups, then sighs turning away from the view and holds his arms wide but after a second they dangle back at his sides like limp noodles. “It’s the best thing to have our dream and to be us, make music, make people happy. I love that part. But us—Guarderobe, we can ruin lots of things. Cause car accidents.” He blinks wide as if remembering something. “I did that once. Felt so bad. The press…they said such bad things. But they do it more though. Ruin people’s lives. Make more car accidents. Poor Princess Dianna. Do-ya-member-tha-story from when we were kids. They chased her in Paris. An-she-died.”

  Frowning more, he turns back to the view, putting his forehead heavily on the glass and points down toward the street. “There they are. Even now. Waiting for the next picture so they can chase-me-round-in-cars and make up stories ‘bout all of us. That’s why Royce is so afraid. That’s why he doesn’t want the baby here. See, lil-Robin?” He sit-leans against the sill, banging the back of his head some as he gets settled. “You’re so hard on Royce when you give him those angry-looks that tell him he’s supposed to know what to do how to be a real father. But you got to understand. Iss—all—scary shit. We never know what to do even how to be ourselves. We make plans. Lots of plans, and then we wind up doing none of those plans an-make-nother-plan-fast. That’s the one we usually do. The fast plan. The last plan.” He laughs. “And now Royce says we can’t take that baby on tour. Says it’s dangerous.”

  “The baby should be with her father, no matter what. Even on tour,” I say.

  He laughs again and stumbles over to hug me, his amber-colored eyes are all bloodshot. “Thass-what-I-say, Robin. You make me feel so calm and right.” He rests the weight of his whole head on top of mine. “You should tell him what you said.”

  I pull a face. “Oh, I will. Don’t you worry.”

  “And so will I,” Vere agrees.

  “Good.” Adam sings whiskey-breath down onto my head, “Love. Love. Love. Love is all we need. And I love you now Robin. I really do.”

  “Oh, God. I’m going to text Royce to come in for back-up,” Vere says, laughing at my eye roll. She pulls out her phone while I twist out of Adam’s hug. I feel kind of bad for doing it because my movement almost topples him to the floor. Luckily he catches himself by grabbing onto the back of the crib this time.

  “If he doesn’t agree with me taking that baby on tour, then I’m going to run-away for good. I will. Maybe open a…a… used book store or have a museum. Because we can’t be rockstars forever, you know? When I was a kid, I used to want to open a rock shop. All-the-other kids said they’d be firemen, but I said every time: rock-shop owner!” He holds up one finger too high in the air. “Or. Wait.” He grins, freezing for a second. “I’m already having a cheese shop, aren’t I?” He takes the finger he’d left pointing in the air, and weaves it to the center of his chest. “Adam Marcus loves cheese, loves making cheese, but nobody knows. I make-more-than-music, you know? Cheese.” He sighs out long and loud. “Love is-all-we-need.”

  He laughs to himself, then nods his head solemnly while he blinks at me like he has just seen me for the first time. “Do you like cheese, Robin?”

  I bite my lower lip and shoot Vere another look. “I love cheese, yes.”

  “Good. You can join up with us. Which is good, because Royce is going to need someone to go with him when I ask him to come along, too. I think he likes you. As in like-likes-likes you. Yup.”

  “Okay. Sure, he does,” I retort sarcastically and shake my head.

  “Aww. He does.” He puts two hands on his chest. “My heart’s bespoke, too. That’s how they say it in the UK if something is already taken. Bespoke. Be. Spoke.” He blinks heavily again then swallows. “Girls with accents. That what I’m be-spoken-for. One of those. It’s so cute how they talk over there.”

  He starts swaying all over again while his focus tries to re-settle on my face. “Adam and Eve. They were bespoke. Just-like my beauffful-tattoo-here.” He points at his arm. “Adam and Eve. You know that story?” He stops himself from falling by clinging to the back of the crib again. “You’re so smart at your college, Vere. Tell me what happened to Adam and Eve. Not the part that we all know about where they got in trouble in the garden. Tell me how Chapter Two turns out. I don’t care if you say spoilers.” He walks back over to stand in front of her, and crosses his arms crooked against his chest like that’s going to help prop him up somehow. “Like what happens to them? To Adam and Eve? Does the love story work out?”

  “Adam, you know The Bible is not a sequential, chapter by chapter book, right?”

  “That’s not what I wanted to hear, Vere,” Adam whines out. “Tell me something good.”

  “Dude.” Royce calls out from the shadows of the doorway, startling us all. “Adam and Eve’s pack of lies and bad behavior dammed all of mankind forever. That’s what happened.”

  “Royce! My brother.” Adam waves like he’s a little kid, then turns back to Vere. “Thasss-not—right what Royce said? Is it? Adam and Eve—got in trouble forever?”

  Vere sighs. “Yep. They basically invented the word ‘sin’ as we know it for lying to the big guy.” She points towards heaven. “And then they moved out of Eden and had kids. Cain and Abel. Two boys.”

  “Wow. Okay.” Adam puts his hands back over his heart. “Kids. That’s a great thing. So they had a family.”

  As Royce draws closer, it’s hard not to notice that Royce’s hair is sleepy-tousled-sexy, and that he’s wearing the sweats with white T-shirt combo I’d admired the other day. Why does the guy I hate most in the world, have to be so darn attractive?

  Royce’s stressed, and slightly bleary eyes are impenetrable and have been stuck on Vere non-stop as he enters the room. She shakes her head in response to some sort of silent conversation they’ve been having. Then, like he’s been holding his breath, he breathes out as though relieved, while pointedly
ignoring my presence.

  Adam, unaware that the air in the room just got so tight it’s crackling, asks Royce, “What happens with the brothers? We’re like brothers, aren’t we, bro? My bro, Royce.” He beams.

  When Royce turns back to Adam, his voice is stern, “One brother murdered the other brother. Which is exactly what will go down in this room if you don’t walk out of here right now and go to sleep. Dude. Seriously. I could kill you for this.”

  Adam’s so tipsy he’s easily redirected toward the door with one soft shove from Royce. “Okaaaaay. Sheesh.” He waves a hand in our direction. “Don’t worry. Royce never really kills me. Just says that all-the-time.” He turns back to me, steps wavering, like he’s in some slow-motion movie. “Robin. Royce thinks he’s the Big Bad Wolf and you’re Lil’ Robin-Riding-Hood. Says we got to keep you away from him. But you two are-the-nicest people I know, and I say it’s a match. Gotta swipe right and keep the good ones. Tell her, Vere. Tell Robin that Royce’s darkness is not—real. Nope.” His head bobs wildly again. “Come on, Vere!” He’s nearly shouting now.

  When I don’t answer, only shake my own head, Vere, like she’s trying to humor Adam, leans in and whispers, “Adam’s right. Royce doesn’t have darkness. The bad-boy stuff is an act.”

  Royce’s head whips back. His ice-blue eyes are still cold, but this time, I see a flicker of panic running through them. “Christ, Vere. This is the crap that’s been falling out of his mouth, and you’re supporting him?”

  Because I’m annoyed that Royce came in here and didn’t glance once at his baby, I answer pointedly: “Don’t worry Royce, I don’t believe them, if that’s what you’re thinking. Your darkness can’t all be an act, or this baby wouldn’t be here and you would admit that you’re her father, instead of coming in here how you just did, and then endlessly blowing her off, right?”

  He doesn’t answer, nor will he meet my direct glare.

  “I’m counting the days ‘till this is over.” Adam sighs, the smile sliding off his face. Royce forces him to exit into the hallway, but not before Adam adds, “I think iss-time for a new plan, Royce. I don’t like this one anymore, because I want Robin to like you just how I like you.”

  “Well, I don’t want Robin to like me. Go to bed.”

  Vere and I exchange wry smiles when Adam calls back, “You’re not my boss, Royce,” so loudly his words have echoed through the hallway.

  Royce glances back at us then pauses mid-step when his phone starts firing off texts and alerts. So many that it sounds like he’s got an exploding electronic keyboard in his pocket instead of a phone. “Crap. We’ll be international news for years to come if this baby’s mom doesn’t return soon,” he grumbles quietly, scanning his monitor for so long that deep worry-creases form between his eyes, making him look much older than twenty-one. “The poor little baby…if only I could save her from all that is Guarderobe, right? Shit. It’s all getting too far out of control.” He shakes his head, darting me another glance, then resting his moon-beam gaze on Vere’s equally worried face. “At least the baby won’t remember any of this, right? As long as she’s loved in the end.”

  “She is loved, Royce. She is,” Vere whispers. “It’s okay.”

  I raise my brows high, surprised Royce has even mentioned love inside of his worries about the baby. Thinking he’s at one of those life-defining moments of transformation, I boldly interject quietly but firmly: “She’d do better if her father would spend some actual time with her. Notice her? Hold her? Bond with her, be close to her much more during this crazy time. Who knows what she will remember or not? Maybe you shouldn’t avoid her so much.” I motion to her nestled in Vere’s arms. “Like you could start…now. Give her a little cuddle in the rocking chair? Just for a few minutes.”

  He’s looking at me like I’ve grown two heads. “Thank you, tiny Dr. Phil, but that’s not going to happen.”

  “But you said…as long as she’s loved?” My voice loses some of its bravado. “What would you lose if you bonded with her, starting right now?”

  “How about, I’d lose the last of my fucking mind?” He holds up a hand when my mouth drops open. “Excuse me, Robin, if I’m not up for your parenting suggestions right now, or ever. Again. She’s not my baby until someone proves it, which is why my grandmother and uncle are in another city right now, texting me insane questions about when I can meet them to have a blood test. As for the bonding that needs to happen during this time? That’s what you were hired to do. So, leave me alone and do your job. I’m doing mine while trying to get out of being called that baby’s father.”

  “Royce!” Vere shouts. “Robin doesn’t deserve your stress. You’re being a complete ass.”

  “I know. But just because you all suddenly like her so much, doesn’t mean I can be someone different, because isn’t me being a jerk part of the damn plan?”

  Vere puts her hand on his arm. “Well maybe Adam is right then. Maybe the plan sucks…”

  He yanks his whole body away from her. From me. “No. It’s good. I’m good.”

  “I know but…can’t you think of a better way? Maybe handle how you interact with Robin and the baby differently? You just cursed at her.”

  Flickers of helplessness— or is it hopelessness— cross between their stares.

  “Fine.” He sighs, trapping me in his silver-blue gaze and grimaces, looking as though he’d like to run from here, but he’s simply trying to make Vere happy now. “I’m sorry if I shouted. I won’t do that anymore. Vere’s right. I need a better plan where you’re concerned, and I should have made one sooner. So here goes. I’d prefer it, if you could get over the fact that I’m not going to bond with this baby this week or even next. Not how you want, anyhow, and not ever up to your very high expectations. Also, I’d prefer if you wouldn’t talk to me at all for the next few days. I won’t come in the nursery; nor will I lurk in the hallways anymore being all agonized and worried about this. About you.” He levels me with a stare. “And what you think I can become, when I just can’t do it. Then, maybe you won’t have to keep pressuring me or be disappointed when you look at me with those damn mind-reading big-blue eyes of yours. Okay? How’s that for a new and better plan, Vere? Happy?”

  Vere’s lowered her brows and she’s stuttering like she’s not happy at all, but before she can protest I answer quickly, “Done. And thank you for improving on my working conditions with this new—plan. Nice to know you’ve at least been standing out in the hallways and agonizing over stuff.” I roll my eyes, giving him just the look I know he doesn’t want me to give him ever again. The look that says he falls short. The look that insists he can and should do better. Even now, I can’t stop myself from trying. He’s the worst. Shaking my head and with utter scorn attached to my voice, I add, “With your permission, these will be the last words I speak to you until my job is finished here with Guarderobe.”

  “Perfect. Just perfect. And thank you.”

  “What? This is not what I meant, Royce, and you know it. No,” Vere cries out.

  “Too bad, Vere. This is a situation where not everyone gets to be friends at the end how you like. This is the best way, considering I hate to lie. Now she can stop expecting shit I can’t possibly deliver.”

  “Royce. You’re so out of line, and listen to yourself you sound so—mean!” Vere crosses her arms, glaring.

  “Whatever works so the fewest people get hurt, right?”

  “And if Robin gets hurt, because I think you just did that, big-time despite the poker face she’s got stapled on.” Vere cries out. “What about Robin?”

  “I’m fine. I’m getting paid,” I answer stiffly. “I’m just fine.”

  “I wish we’d never come up with this damn, parent-goes-M-I-A plan,” he mutters, glancing at me.

  I gasp at Royce’s choice of words and my heart twists so painfully tears jump into the edges of my eyes. He can yell at me all he wants, but did he have to say, parent goes M-I-A?

  Misunderstanding that my react
ion is not about him but about my own father, Royce settles his eyes on me again. His voice comes out all rough as he asks, “Damn it Robin, are you crying? Shit.”

  Vere has also misunderstood and comes over to put her arm around my shoulder. “Royce. Oh, my God. See? Say something. She’s not fine. You’re such an ass.”

  “I’m stuck, Vere. Can’t you see that? Dammed if I do, dammed if I don’t.” He jerks his head in my direction but talks about me like I’m not in the room anymore. “Maybe one day she’ll understand.”

  I shake my head at both of them, because I won’t ever understand Royce Devlin. Ever. Nor do I want to!

  We’re all distracted by Royce’s phone exploding again, and from the bag at Vere’s feet, her phone starts doing the same.

  Royce takes his phone out first and visibly pales while he’s reading his bright screen. He suddenly looks ten years older, or ten years more exhausted and tormented than he did when he first came in the room. “Adam didn’t go to bed.” His voice grows so taut I can hear it snapping tighter with each word. “He got on the damn elevator and left the suite. He’s been talking to groupies. Shit. This time his antics are beyond epic. We’re so dead.”

  “He could hardly walk or talk. Impossible.” Vere reaches into her bag at her feet and grabs her phone because her own phone has started exploding with texts, too. “Oh. God. Oh. God,” she whispers. “He’s already posted two live stories from the limo.” Her brown eyes grow panicky. “Who can shut off the social media feeds?”

  “Working on it.” Royce flicks her a quick glance. “The chauffeur has him locked in, but he’s currently banging on the doors and calling for help. Snap story number two was him, acting like he’s a prisoner! Thank God the limo is soundproof.” Quickly, Royce fires a few texts off and opens his browser. “Okay. I have his location. The chauffeur has parked him down by the Ritz Hotel’s entryway and their staff is helping to keep the crowds away. The driver is begging me to intercept them, because the goddamn paparazzi have already spotted the limo.” He holds up his phone so we can see a selfie Adam’s just posted on Instagram. “He’s publicly begging for rescue, like he’s being held prisoner?”