“He’s not staying in this room. He let me have it.”
She cocks her head. “Are you homeless or something?”
“It was part of the agreement.”
Her eyes widen behind a thick layer of mascara. “What agreement? As their label rep, I should be privy to any agreement one of my clients makes with another party.”
“I don’t think this concerns you or the record label.”
“Is he paying you to fuck him?”
My jaw drops at her crassness. “Of course not.”
“Then why are you in his room?”
“He’s staying with Garrett. Maybe you should talk to him about this.”
When she pulls her phone out of a robe pocket and taps on it, the tie comes undone to reveal she’s practically naked underneath. And by practically, I mean she’s got on a lacy bra and a garter belt. Not exactly something you’d wear to bed. Oh, God, she came here to sleep with Liam.
A minute later, Liam is in the doorway in sweatpants. I assume she summoned him. “What the hell, Ronni?” he shouts.
She pulls him inside and shuts the door. “Why is this girl in your hotel room?”
“This girl is Ella, and she’s here because I invited her.”
“What am I missing?” Ronni says. “You invited her back to your hotel, but you’re not sleeping with her?”
“That’s right.”
“Explain.” She pulls the robe around her and sits on the couch, crossing her legs. “You picked up some local and gave her your room?”
“Ella’s not a local. She’s from New York. She’ll be with us for the entire tour.”
Ronni laughs. “You’ve got to be kidding. You brought along a little fuck buddy, and she won’t even sleep in the same room as you? My, you are a piece of work, aren’t you, Liam?”
I step forward. “I’ve told you more than once we’re not sleeping together.”
Ronni is confused.
“You wouldn’t understand,” he says.
She stands. “Well, pack her stuff. She’s out. IRL is not paying for her room.”
“IRL isn’t paying for it, RA is paying.”
“Look at whose name is on the invoice, genius.”
“It’s our music that makes you money. Our gigs that bring in fans.”
“Gigs you wouldn’t have if it weren’t for me. We have a contract, Liam. My word is final. She’s out.”
“She’s not leaving. It’s my right to give her the room that’s meant for me.”
“But clearly you’re not sleeping here. Therefore the room isn’t needed. We’re not paying.”
Liam glances at me, clearly at a loss. I get the feeling Ronni often gets her way. I go to the closet and pull a pillow and sheets off a shelf and toss them on the couch. “Then he’s moving back in. I’ll take the couch.”
Ronni pouts. She knows she’s lost.
Liam smirks and opens the door. “I guess you’ll be leaving now, Veronica.”
She stomps to the door, then turns to get in his face. “Watch yourself. You’d do well to remember I’m the one in charge.”
He laughs. “Yeah, it definitely looks like it from where I’m standing.”
When she leaves, I realize Liam’s bandmates are in the hall. I guess they were kind of loud. Garrett looks at Ronni in her robe, at Liam half naked, then at me, and smiles. “What did we miss?”
“Typical Ronni drama,” Liam says. “What’s new?”
“You coming back to the room?” Garrett asks.
“Nah. I’ll be crashing on Ella’s couch.”
“Suit yourself.” Garrett and the others drift back to their rooms.
“That ought to give them something to talk about,” he says with a chuckle, settling on the couch before he turns out the light. “Now go to sleep. I’m fucking beat.”
I crawl back into bed, but I certainly don’t sleep. I can sense him. I can smell him. I can hear him breathe. I lie here thinking about the half-naked man ten feet away from me, and it dawns on me that today was the first day in three weeks I didn’t miss Corey.
Chapter Fifteen
Liam
I yawn on our way to the beach. “Did we have to get up so damn early?”
“It’s easier to run in the morning before you get caught up in the rest of your day, plus we’re leaving for St. Augustine at noon because you’re playing at three o’clock today.”
I raise my brow. “You seem to know my schedule pretty well.”
“I have to be able to plan our runs.”
“Lucky me.”
We reach the end of the boardwalk. I start down the stairs. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” she says behind me.
I look back to see her stretching against the wooden railing. “Right. Why do we have to stretch?”