We got in on Monday. I packed, paid my bills for a couple of months, and signed my contract all that day. Then I fired Jeff, telling him to take his commission and not call me again.
Tuesday I had lunch with my mom, Axel, and Antoinette. Three hours of hell, listening to Axel bitch at me about Rhys, like he was educating me on the fact that he’s a fucking rock star and incapable of love. I almost went off on him. Clearly, he thinks I’m stupid. If anyone knows exactly what and who Rhys Granger is, it’s me.
I simply smiled and assured him he had nothing to worry about. It’s not like I’m perfect. I did fuck him and then basically ran. The only positive thing to come out of that lunch was Antoinette excused me from being a bridesmaid.
I kind of felt guilty. But I know my limitations, and being around all the Disciples’ wives, with their kids and happy marriages? Yeah, I can’t handle that.
“Gia, let’s go, hustle, hustle.” Rafe moves me in and out of the way of the entrance. I’m ready to tell him I can’t fly today, but Hunter enters, laughing with Sebastian, riding the high of the adoring fans.
All the chaos that was outside starts to trickle inside as I sink into a seat and try to breathe.
“So, Gia.” Hunter drops his giant leather messenger bag on the table.
Shawn, one of the flight attendants, slithers over. She’s my least favorite. Pretty much rubs me the wrong way with her fake boobs and fake-looking flaming-red hair.
“Can I get you anything, Mr. Falcon?” she purrs at him.
Again, I roll my eyes. I’m sorry but she bugs me. Maybe it’s because I suspect the entire band has fucked her. That includes Rhys.
“Yeah. Martini, Bombay Sapphire or Hendricks.” When he stretches, his honey-wheat blond hair falls over one eye.
“Gia, baby, anything?” I sit up, gritting my teeth. I hate the baby thing. I should say something, but I’m trying to fight a panic attack, so who the fuck cares. If he were anyone else besides Hunter Falcon, he’d be looking at a lawsuit. You can’t call women baby or honey anymore and he knows it.
God, even the hair and makeup folks are taking offense. Apparently, they don’t appreciate people calling them Glam Squad or Vanity. They prefer people call them hair stylists and makeup artists.
“No, thank you. Water, please.” Shawn doesn’t even acknowledge me.
“Make it three. Sebastian needs one.” Hunter drops down into the seat and looks at his watch and phone.
“Tomorrow in London, I want to film the morning interview with Shredder Monthly and the guys.”
“Yep, already scheduled it.” Sebastian sits and rubs my shoulder as if he’s trying to give me support.
“Gia, I need you there also.” Hunter winks at me, then looks over at the back of the jet where the band is.
“Sebastian, get the portable.” He smiles and says pointing, “Film it all.”
Nuke is pounding on his chest as he grabs a groupie and throws her onto the couch.
The captain comes on, but Cash is playing his bass, so I assume he was trying to tell us we are taking off. Apparently, when you’re a rock band, you don’t have to follow rules. Because as usual, I’m the only one who’s buckled in. Sebastian opens his backpack and pulls out the camera. The studio spent a fortune on it. Both Sebastian and Hunter threw a fit, stating they needed to be able to film anytime any place.
“You okay?”
I look at Sebastian, then over at Rhys who is laughing with Ammo and a couple of groupies.
“No.”
“Okay, well, I need to work. Why don’t you grab your camera? It will take your mind off things.” He turns on the camera.
Fucking nightmare. How long is this flight?
“What’s wrong with you?” Rafe’s demanding voice makes me jump.
“Jesus Christ, you scared me.” My hand goes to my throat, and I can feel my heart pounding and that’s all it takes. Why didn’t I take more Valium?
Rafe sits down where Sebastian vacated his seat and straightens his tie as his eyes scan my face.
“You’re pale. What’s going on?” I almost grab his hand because maybe he’ll get the plane to land, and quite frankly I’m freaking, so Rafe is better than nothing.
“Here we go.” Shawn comes back and drops off three martinis and no water.
“Can I have a water?” I say, my voice tight. As the jet dips, my eyes snap to Rafe who looks like he’s making a huge decision.
“Shawn, water, now, and Granger?”
“I… we need to land. I can’t…” I shake my hands as I try to take in breaths.
“Christ.” Rafe grabs my head and puts it between my legs as I hear Sebastian calling me. Hunter asks if I get air sickness, and all the while, I’m about to pass out if Rafe doesn’t let go of my head.