Part 87 (2/2)
”Hey, you're the one saying this is over.”
”But I didn't! I said it might not work! Jesus, Nate. How can you throw me out like this...?” Her eyes well with tears and a smug feeling sneaks over me. She doesn't get to say s.h.i.+t like that to me then walk away happy. ”Nate, it's late. I'll leave in the morning.”
”Nope.”
Suitcase fastened, I prop it by the door and call reception. Sophia remains on the bed, watching me silently. ”The porter will be here for your bags in five minutes. Do you want to ask if they have any rooms?” I hold out the phone, the reception desk still on the line if she wants.
She jumps up, s.n.a.t.c.hes the phone from me, and slams it down. ”You b.l.o.o.d.y b.a.s.t.a.r.d!”
”Never denied it.”
Sophia sinks back onto the bed, tears gathering in her eyes. I grab my phone from the table and shove it in my pocket. She doesn't say a word.
Will Sophia tell the press all the gory details about our relations.h.i.+p? Do I give a c.r.a.p? Who cares about my reputation? I sure as h.e.l.l don't.
”Thanks for the fun. I'm leaving for a few hours. Be gone when I come back,” I say.
The hotel room door clicks shut behind me and I weigh up my options. Where's the nearest place to get a drink?
5.
RILEY.
The quiet hotel bar area is small; tables and chairs arranged around the s.p.a.ce, which is dominated by a long wooden bar. Brightly lit shelves of spirits line the wall behind, and I toy with moving from wine to something stronger. Then I remind myself I'm on tour working and not holiday.
I check clients' social media accounts to ensure they're running correctly, take a quick look at my own, and then place the phone on the bar.
I don't go out alone as much these days. Occasional drinks after work but never anything late or exciting. Unless you count the odd hook up, but I haven't had one of those recently either.
There must be a conference on in the hotel; a lot of men in suits gathered in the lobby earlier and a few are drinking at tables now, their volume increasing as the minutes pa.s.s. I half check them out, but n.o.body catches my eye.
The bar isn't busy apart from the conference group: one or two couples at the tables near the back of the room, a few guys propping up the wooden bar and talking loudly. Midweek, and the hotel is filled with business travellers.
Two drinks later, on top of the three gla.s.ses of wine with the meal, and I'm pleasantly fuzzy. One more and I'll head to bed.
”I'll get this,” a man says as the barman places a gla.s.s of white wine in front of me.
Dressed in dark trousers and a grey s.h.i.+rt with the top b.u.t.ton unfastened, this man is like many I've met before, including myself. Even away from work, he can't drop into casual; his business nature hangs around in his attire.
Good-looking guy though. Friendly face, heavy brow, and a sharp jawline. His arms resting on the bar show evidence he works out. He's younger looking than most of the other guys around, closer to my age. But I'm not interested.
”Thanks for the drink,” I say.
He s.h.i.+fts stools and holds his right hand out. ”Archie.”
”Riley.” His firm grip squashes my fingers harder than I'd like.
”Oh, I know somebody with a daughter called Riley.”
”I don't know any Archies.”
”Want to get to know one?”
I pick up my wine. ”Wow, you don't hold back.”
”s.h.i.+t. Sorry, I didn't mean-” Archie bites his lip. ”I meant chat.”
Sure he does. I sip my drink, flattered by his attention. ”I'm happy to chat. What do you do, Archie? For work.”
”Accountant. I'm attending a conference at the hotel over the next couple of days.” He points at me. ”No sarcastic comments about boring accountants.”
I smile and he laughs back. ”I wouldn't.”
”Are you here for the conference too?”
”Me? No.”
”No?”
I don't elaborate; no way do I want twenty questions about working for rock stars. So I stay quiet.
”On your own?” he asks.
Whatever this guy says, he's flirting. I check out his hands and point at his wedding ring. ”Is your wife with you?”
He snaps his head downwards. ”Oh. c.r.a.p.”
I laugh at him. ”You're not very good at this, are you? Normally leaving your wedding ring off would help.”
”I wasn't intending to... just wanted to chat. A bit of fun.”
Oh, G.o.d. I s.h.i.+ft in my seat and look at a spot behind him. Hooking up with random guys when the dry spell has gone on too long is something I do, but not if they're married.
Somebody appears at the bar a few feet away and loudly orders a drink. I groan as I take in his appearance, the scruffy guy I do not want to see and the opposite image to Archie. My rock start nemesis. I glance around for Sophia. I could talk to her and politely excuse myself from this awkward situation with the married guy.
Grabbing the gla.s.s he's served, Nate catches sight of me looking at him. He holds the gla.s.s up in salute and I look away.
Too late.
”Riley!” he enthuses.
Archie glances behind him. ”Wow. I heard there was a band here. I didn't realise it was Ruby Riot.”
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