Time Out (2 page)

I don’t know how I found myself surrounded by such beautiful looking people when I would be described as ‘cute’ at best. Riley liked to say I was the all American looking girl next door. Lizzie liked to say that I was a cross between Victoria Beckham and an alien, which I blamed on my pronounced cheekbones and square jaw passed down by generations of Cherokee blood on my father’s side of the family. 

“Joie,” Riley flashed his megawatt smile as I continued to just stand there and stare at him.
“Focus.”

“
Right
,” I snapped out of my semi-trance, which I always seemed to succumb to whenever Riley was half-naked.

“He has a fiancé,” I finally dropped the bomb.

“Who?”
They both asked in unison.

“Hawkins, you know -
my
boyfriend,” I nodded like this was the kind of thing that happened every day. “Apparently he’s engaged or
was
engaged. Though I couldn’t help but notice that
blondie
is still wearing the ring.”

“You mean
Gweniverie
Warren, that was so two years ago.” Lizzie shrugged, but to her dating could be a lot like a clothing fad, so I looked at Riley for support.

“You didn’t know he was once engaged?” Riley looked like he was sure I had that information and must have just forgotten about it.

I returned the stare, but more in a ‘are you kidding me’ look. As if I could have known Hawkins was engaged but completely forgotten about it over the past several weeks. “No, I didn’t know he was engaged, and yeah, I think one of you should have mentioned this to me!”

“Who do you think he’s singing about when he keeps referring to ‘the one who got away’ or ‘Gwen is Gone?’ I know you have this superiority complex, but you’re not his
first
muse.” Lizzie rolled her eyes and went back to putting on her face for the night’s concert.

“I can see that this is a shock to you,” Riley noticed. “But does it really matter? He loves you, Joie.”

“I know,” I said surer than I felt. “Well, at least she’s not in the picture anymore, right?” I asked, but the peanut gallery had gone suddenly silent. “She’s
still
in the picture?!” I squealed. “How am I supposed to not worry when she is still in the picture?”

“Hawkins can’t help that she’s still in the picture, she
is
Warren’s sister.” Lizzie said like once again this was not a big deal.

Warren’s sister, great. I couldn’t believe that no one had mentioned this, especially Hawkins. He told me all about his family and his brother, but the fact he was engaged seems like information that should come up in conversation. I had planned on asking him about it, but after feeling stupid I wanted to make sure I had all the facts going into this conversation. Plopping myself down on the white ripped down comforter, I sighed heavily and told the two of them to give me all the dirt.

“What do you want to know, she’s Warren’s sister,” Lizzie shrugged. “What else do I know, she’s smart.”

“She’s
smart
? What is that supposed to imply, that I’m dumb?”

“You asked, and no you’re smart, but she’s like Ivy League
smart
,” she emphasized.

“Did you hear that Joie?” Riley pretended to be serious as he came to my aid. “She’s Ivy League smart,” he said mockingly. “You know what that means.” He cupped his mouth and whispered, “She’s a nerd. Every rock star’s dream,” he added jokingly, causing both of us to laugh.

“Yeah—but we’re not talking about just
any
rock star,” Lizzie countered. “We’re talking about Hawkins. You know deep, introspective, philosophical, boring,
yada
yada
…
Hawkins
.”

“Ouch,” I slowly sobered up from the laugh. “Tell us how you really feel, Lizzie.”

“All I’m saying is that you don’t know what you want to do with your life, right?
It’s
how we managed to get you to follow the band around on the tour in the first place,” she reminded me.

It wasn’t much of a secret to anyone that I had basically fled from my hometown of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. My mom wanted to know what I was going to do with my life now that I had graduated high school and I didn’t have an answer for her.

“Well
this
girl probably went to bed dreaming of saving sick people from third world countries when the rest of us were planning out our fairy tale weddings like those things really exist.” She bugged her eyes out.  

“So you’re saying she’s--”

“She’s a doctor. I mean a straight up,
legit
doctor.”

Riley’s face suddenly scrunched up like what other kind of doctor was there, but he decided to let this one go by remaining silent.

“She works with doctors and borders in places like South America and Africa.”

“Doctors w
ithout
Borders?”
I checked with her, but not because I thought it was funny she mispronounced the name. If anything, she was finally starting to get my attention.  

“You know what I mean,” she huffed. “What I’m
trying
to say, is that this girl knows who she is and what she wants and she doesn’t let anything get in her way. She decided she didn’t want Hawkins so you shouldn’t worry.”

“What!”

“From what Warren told me,” Lizzie sighed. “Hawkins was willing to drop it all for her—the band—everything.”

“What happened?” I asked.

“She left him.”

“
She
left
him
?” I repeated in astonishment.

“I tried to tell you,” she sighed. “So it’s not that big of a deal.”

“Except she’s here
now
, wearing the ring, and made the comment about being his fiancé!”

Lizzie and Riley exchanged a look, “Oh shit, you’re screwed,” Lizzie concluded before straightening another strand of hair.

“Joie, you have nothing to worry about,” Riley reassured me as he pulled a freshly washed white V-neck t-shirt over his taunt chest down to his tight abdomen. (Like my sweats he seemed to never go without the infamous t-shirts.) “She might have saved people, but you saved Hawkins, and he was willing to sacrifice himself just to save you when the stage collapsed. I think that pretty much speaks for itself.”

Leave it to Riley to know just what to say to make me feel better, and I put a smile on my face for him, but anyone with an ex who came with those kinds of credentials and also looked that pretty, would make even the most secure person question how they measured up in comparison.

Nevertheless, flashes of that horrific night - where Hawkins and I found ourselves dangling from the same guitar strap, above a two story drop from a collapsed stage, and how he declared his love for me before falling to his potential death - flooded my memory. I shivered at the thought and I think Riley noticed because he quickly changed the subject.

“I think we should head over the venue before concert traffic hits.”

And as if Hawkins could sense I was leaving without him, my cell suddenly went off. I could tell by the ring back tone, which was “Can’t Stop” by the Dave Matthews Band (a private joke I shared with Hawkins because I only got starry eyed when I talked about DMB), that it was Hawkins, and without looking at the text, I declined the call and changed my ringer to vibrate because I wasn’t ready to take his call just yet. 

If Riley noticed that I didn’t take the call on our way out, he at least didn’t say anything about it as we stepped out of the Ritz Carlton Hotel into the noon day sun. Lizzie grimaced from behind her black Ray Bans and muttered something about not being a morning person. Though I was pretty sure two in the afternoon didn’t exactly qualify as ‘morning’.

Still, for someone who probably should have run a comb through their hair before exiting the hotel room, especially now that the competition was getting stiff when it came to keeping my boyfriend, I found myself leading the way across the parking lot.

That was until I heard the sound of shouting coming from just outside the hotel’s parking lot. The hotel must have been keeping them at bay, but they couldn’t do anything more than tell them to stay off their lawn. I zeroed in on the sound, and watched as a group of grown ass men started to run down along the opposite side of the fence toward us like they were a bunch of crazed fans that couldn’t wait to catch a glimpse of the band.

Ickk
!
I hissed.
“The paparazzi.”

Lizzie ever so coolly held up a peace sign with her two fingers for a second and then went back to walking like she was a practiced vet at these kind of things, and I guess in a way she was. She had been doing this longer than I had I reminded myself, especially when everyone had mistakenly confused her for me when Hawkins and I went to blows on Twitter during a marketing strategy that had backfired.  

“Don’t acknowledge them,” Lizzie began to coach me like I had asked for her help, though I didn’t remember doing so. “Real celebrities don’t acknowledge the press.” 

“Good, then you won’t mind.” Quickly snatching up her Ray Bans, I shoved them on my face and kept my head down. I, unlike Lizzie, despised the attention that came along with dating a rock star. 

“Hey!” Lizzie cried reproachfully.

“I need these more than you,” I played to her weaknesses - her vain side - and watched as she slowly nodded along in agreement.

Riley’s tall solid frame hurried to move in front of me so he could block off the paparazzi’s direct view. I didn’t know what I did to deserve such a good friend when it came to him, but I couldn’t be any more thankful than I was now, as we quickly approached one of the band’s Chevrolet vans parked in between two large tan tour buses. 

    Hawkins had leant me the silver van, now that my father’s vintage 1968 Volkswagen Van was scrap metal on the side of a highway somewhere in Florida. Several weeks ago, Hawkins had a stalker that was trying to kill him in revenge for the death of his wife and daughter. The stalker, Cyrus, blamed Hawkins because his brother had been drinking the night of the fatal car accident. I wouldn’t have been involved but Hawkins and I did our predating banter through Twitter so everyone, including Cyrus knew we were involved. Since the band was completely protected Cyrus figured his best revenge against Hawkins was to kidnap and kill me. Thankfully he was unsuccessful but my van didn’t make it out so lucky.

The sound of men shouting demandingly, “The
real
Lizzie give us a smile!” brought my focus back to Riley as he quickly threw open one of the side doors so I could get in the back. This van, unlike my dad’s, was filled with rows of grey vinyl seats, which I couldn’t be more thankful for as I ducked down, okay more like flung myself across one of them, to hide from the flashing cameras.

“How are you doing, Lizzie?” One of the guys turned to her when they couldn’t get an answer of out of me.

“Peachy,” Lizzie kept it short, like she had places to go and people to see as she took her good ole time getting into the passenger side. Even in the daylight I could see flashes of lights go off the back of my grey seat like I was Lady Gaga or something.

“We’re going to have to get you your own pair of sunglasses,” Lizzie sighed under her breath like she was a ventriloquist. 

At least Riley and I seemed to be on the same page, when I heard the brakes squeal in protest as Riley rammed the van into reverse, and then the gravel sprayed underneath the tires as he sped off down the parking lot to the opening.

“You okay, Joie?” he asked tentatively once we were back on the safety of the road.   

“God—you guys act like it’s a crime to take a photo or something,” Lizzie scoffed. “Most people would kill to get this kind of attention.”

“Obviously,” Riley threw her a sideways glance. “Don’t acknowledge the press,” he mimicked her in an uppity way. “What are you, her PR person?”

“You know what? That’s not a half bad idea,” the prospect of the idea seemed to slowly grow bigger in Lizzie’s eyes.

“This is coming from the same person who thought it was okay to expose her chest to the entire world.” Riley threw her another exasperated look. “You can’t be serious.” 

“For the record, I didn’t know I had exposed myself. I was drunk. And we’re not talking about me, we’re talking about Joie.”

“Tread lightly,” I groaned for the second time today.

“All I’m saying, is I make it look easy being in the public eye day after day, when this shit
isn’t
easy. People can be vicious, especially the fans. Someone has to make sure Joie doesn’t get eaten alive.”

“What exactly does your job entail anyway?” I finally sat up and blew my dark hair out of my face, thinking to myself: this should be good.

“You just take pointers from me,” she shrugged.

“That’s a good one,” Riley snickered.

“Laugh all you want, but when those pictures hit the stands people are going to say stuff like she’s freaking weird and so introverted she’s awkward. How could Hawkins be in love with
her
of all people? She just threw herself across a seat in a van to hide. And if you think they didn’t get that on camera,” she looked over her shoulder at me. “You’re wrong. Is this really how you want his ex-fiancé to picture you? Cowering behind a seat like you’re a kid who can’t handle Hawkins’ lifestyle? That should go over really well,” she scoffed, “When she’s laughing at you to his face.”