My gaze skitters past Chaser. Pamela’s busy mauling Andrew’s face but his eyes are open, watching us. I quickly look away. “Not happening,” I whisper to Chaser.
He’s too focused on kissing the back of my hand to notice my shift in mood. How far is the hotel? This ride seems to be taking forever.
“Hey, Mallory,” Andrew pushes Pamela away, “Chaser and I were talking about doing a country-funk-rock side project. What do you think?”
“A what?” I frown up at Chaser.
He rolls his eyes before turning to face Andrew. “We tossed some ideas around.”
“That sounds lame.” Pamela wrinkles her nose and slaps her hand over Andrew’s face, pushing him away from her. “He’s full of stupid ideas, Chaser. Don’t let him distract you.”
Something about her easy dismissal instantly makes me want to encourage them—even though I have no idea what a country-funk-rock whatever would sound like.
Andrew shakes off Pamela’s hand. “You’re not a musical person. Of course you don’t get it.”
“Neither is Mallory,” she points out.
“Not true.” Chaser brushes his knuckles over my cheek briefly. “Mal has a killer voice. Just doesn’t let anyone hear it.”
Heat spreads over my cheeks. “You’re exaggerating. Once. You heard me sing a couple lines one time.”
“I know what I heard,” he insists.
Andrew’s wearing a devious smirk and I brace myself for whatever absurdities are about to fly out of his mouth. Pamela must sense it too because she elbows him in the gut. A few seconds later, they’re busy wrestling each other to the floor of the car.
The limo glides to a stop.
“Oh thank God,” I mutter.
Chaser laughs at my obvious relief. “That’s exactly how I felt on our way to the airport.”
Carefully, we step around the still-wrestling couple and exit the limo. Chaser helps the driver grab my bags.
“Should we wait for them?” I ask, glancing back at the car.
“Hell no.” Chaser’s horrified expression pulls a laugh from me. “Let’s escape while they’re distracted.”
He hustles us into the hotel without glancing back. Being on the road with Andrew for months would be exhausting for anyone. Sort of how I could use a break from seeing Pamela every day.
We’re waiting for our elevator when high-pitched female shrieks draw our attention back to the lobby.
Please no.
“You son of a bitch!”
That’s definitely Pamela.
The few people hanging out in the lobby this time of night, turn to stare. We’re too far away to see the action but it must be quite a show.
“Pamela, wait! It’s not what you think. Ow! Fuck!”
Chaser jabs the button for the elevator a couple dozen more times.
“Oh no,” I mutter. “What happened?”
“I don’t want to guess.” He peers around me. “Do you see a door for the staircase?”
“We can’t run away from them if something’s wrong.”
“Yes, we can.”
The elevator door slides open and Chaser rushes us inside, stabbing the button for our floor over and over.
“Wait!” someone yells.
I lean over and press the “open door” button.
“So close,” Chaser sighs.
I dig my elbow into his ribs.
Pamela jiggles over, all her perfectly applied makeup now nothing more than smeared-lips and a racoon-eyes.
“Pamela! What’s wrong?” I’ve never seen her so…out of sorts before. We left them less than ten minutes ago in lovey-dovey land. What could’ve possibly happened in such a short amount of time?
“Did you know?” She pokes Chaser in the chest as the elevator doors slide closed behind her.
There’s a thump against the elevator doors and a pathetic, muffled, “Pamela!”
Chaser glances down at Pamela’s finger—still lingering on his chest—and carefully removes it from his body. “Know what?”
By the detached tone he uses, I suspect Chaser did know whatever it is Pamela’s so upset over.
“That he was with…some…skank before you guys came to pick us up?”
“Pamela,” Chaser says in his most calm and reasonable voice. “I’m not his babysitter.”
She continues glaring at him and it occurs to me he didn’t question her for details about whatever crime Andrew supposedly committed.
I side-eye him and he gives me a slight head shake in return.
“What?” Pamela says, gaze pinging between us.
“What happened, Pamela?” I ask. “You two looked so happy on the way here.”
“I’m an idiot, that’s what,” she fumes.
The doors open and Chaser ushers us out of the elevator. The long corridor is quiet and softly lit with golden wall sconces reflecting off gold wallpaper. My sandals sink into the thick red carpet as Chaser hurries us along.
Pamela sniffs as she follows us. “Can I stay with you guys until I find a flight home?”
No, no, no. “Of course you can.”
Chaser lets out a long breath. Clearly, he had a different answer in mind.
Somewhere behind us, a heavy metal door clangs open and shut. Chaser stops at a door and slides his key in the lock without looking up.
“Pammy!” Andrew shouts breathlessly. Panting and bent over, leaning on his knees, he calls out again, “Wait!”
“Fuck you!” Pamela whips around and flicks both middle fingers at him. “You cheating fuck!”
“Jesus Christ,” Chaser mutters, pushing open our door. “Go on, hon.” He gently touches Pamela’s back. “You sure you don’t want to talk this out with him?”
“I’m sure.”
“Okay, I’ll handle it. Stay here with Mallory.”
Thanks a lot, Chaser.
I don’t want to leave Chaser to deal with Andrew alone but I’m not sure what else to do, so I follow her into our suite. Chaser closes the door behind us. A second later, fists pound on the door hard enough to rattle the thick wood.
“Pamela!” Andrew’s anguished scream rubs my nerves raw. “Please!”
Chaser’s lower, but no less intense voice tries to reason with Andrew. One, two, three more bangs against the door. More talking. Then their voices fade.
Great. Now I’m stuck here alone with Pamela. Who knows how long it will take to tame Andrew.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
Pamela turns away from the window and dabs at her eyes. “No, Mallory,” she snaps. “I’m not okay.”
Ignoring her pissy tone, I drop down on the sofa. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No, I don’t.”
Okay then. This isn’t the romantic reunion night with Chaser I’ve been dreaming of for weeks but you don’t see me bitching about it or kicking her out and telling her to find her own damn room.
Frustrated, I wait to see if she changes her mind and wants to talk.
“You want to know what happened? You really want the scoop on what kind of guy your buddy Andrew is?” Pamela paces in front of me.
I ignore her hostility. “If you want to tell me, I’m here to listen,” I answer with as much compassion as I can at this hour.
She stops her furious pacing and kicks off her shoes.
Thwack, thwack. They hit the wall by the door, landing in a pathetic clump someone’s bound to trip over. “I went to blow that motherfucker and found lipstick rings on his damn dick!” she shrieks.
Afraid I’ll laugh, which would be truly awful in this moment, I go over and pick up her shoes, dropping them under the long table in front of the couch.
“Are you sure?”
She plants her fists on her hip in a scary imitation of an evil comic book villain about to melt half a city block with the power of her laser eye beams. “Cherries in the Snow is kind of hard to miss.”
Eww. Now I’ll have to toss every tube of that color I’ve ever bought.
“God, do you know how many guys I’ve passed on because of that jackass? I could’ve fucked Davey Revolver.”
Join the club. “He’s gross.”
She wrinkles her nose. “Andrew or Davey?”
Both of them. “Uh, Davey.
“Whatever.” She lifts her head and a crooked smile twists her mouth. “You don’t happen to know Kyle’s room number, do you?”
“How would I know? We just got here. Why?”
“Because I’ve fucked him the last time Andrew and I broke up. And I have a sudden urge to do it again.”
“Wow. Uh, okay.” I can understand why it makes sense in her head but, yuck.
I glance at the door longingly. Is Chaser making out better than I am with Andrew? Or did we both draw short sticks tonight?
Chapter Nine
Chaser
“Chaser, I gotta talk to her,” Andrew insists.
I keep pushing him down the hallway, but he’s so damn loud, doors crack open and guests peek out to see what all the commotion is about. It’s only a matter of time before security gets called. Strange that none of our bandmates have popped out to see if we need help. Not like we’re all staying on the same floor or anything.
Every single one of those assholes is getting a five a.m. wake-up call for leaving me to deal with this fuckery on my own.
“Let her cool off for a minute and then I’ll see if she wants to talk to you.”
He stabs his fingers through his hair and tugs at the strands. “Oh, this is bad. This is so bad, Chaser.”