Foolish Games (36 page)

When you’re fighting a battle you aren’t ever gonna win

But don’t it feel good? But don’t it feel good Josephine?

When you don’t win,

never going to win

But don’t it feel good Josephine?

But don’t it feel good?”

He continued to hum the rest of the melody of the song until all I could hear was his heart beat again.

“That was amazing.” I lifted my head to meet his eyes.

“It’s a work in progress,” he sighed happily underneath me.

“Sing it again.”

“Again, huh?” He arched an eyebrow while twirling a strand of my hair in between his fingers.

“At least twenty more times or until I fall asleep.” I laid my head back down along his warm chest and listened to the laughter rise within him.

“Weren’t
you
supposed to be working here?” He raised his head to smirk down at me.

“I’d have thought that you’d be used to being wrong by now,” I said. Smiling, I could feel the laughter shake him again. With my head nuzzled against his soft shirt, I reached out to wrap two of my fingers into his and closed my eyes.

The next morning, I woke up alone in Hawkins’ bed. Wrapped in his soft blankets, I yawned and outstretched my arms. After rubbing my blurry eyes, I looked over at the photos displayed on his closet door. One of them captured Hawkins’ sexy sneer. I didn’t like knowing that someone else had evoked the same look I loved as my own. Rolling over in bed, I leaned over to pull the curtain back so I could peek out the window, wondering where we were at? There was laughter drifting through the opened door. Now that I focused on it, I could barely hear the murmuring of a conversation that was taking place at the front of the bus. Staying in bed, I tried to convince myself that I should get up when I felt a tickle in the back of my throat. A coughing fit suddenly overtook me. Damn, allergies.

“Joie, are you up?” Hawkins called out to me from the front of the bus.

“Yeah,” I called back.

“Come up here,” Hawkins said, “I have someone I want you to meet.”

Great, I thought as I tried to smooth out my hair and then cupped my hand over my mouth to check my breath. God, these were not the best conditions for meeting someone.

Looking down at my sweats and hoodie, I shrugged, after all this is what I’ve been wearing all summer. Walking down the aisle towards the front, I noticed Riley was still passed out on one of the bunk beds. The kitchen was littered with an array of empty coke bottles and crinkled up wrappers from McDonald’s. A tray of fresh lattes from Starbucks was on the counter. Hawkins beamed up at me from one of the leather couches as I came to the front of the bus. He patted the open spot next to him. Across from Hawkins was a guy who looked just as bewildered as I felt.

The freshly shaven man wore a pressed, button down shirt and had short, gelled hair. It was obvious that he wasn’t the crew or one of us “groupies.” He didn’t look like he had weathered the elements of being on the road like we had. He reminded me of Jack from Will and Grace with the same snobby air about him.

I noticed that once again, Hawkins was the only one who could pull off looking hot at this hour in the morning. My eyes gazed over his disheveled hair, unshaven face, and the cup of coffee from Starbucks in his hand.

“Oh, I had missed the sweats.” He winked.

Blushing a crimson red, I sat down beside him. He leaned back and placed his arm on the back of the couch. It wasn’t until I sat down that I realized our guest had a small tape recorder in his hand.

Lord have mercy.

“Umm.” The man looked down at his notes that were laying beside him. “Where was I?”

Hawkins looked lovingly over at me while he twirled a strand of my hair. Narrowing my eyes, as if to ask him what he was doing? He just smiled at me even more like he was enjoying a private joke.

“You were saying?” Hawkins prompted the gentleman.

“Yeah, so are you still involved.” He looked over at me.

“If ever,” he said hesitatingly. “Involved with Lizzie McIntyre?”

Glaring over at Hawkins, I knowingly rolled my eyes. His laugh seemed to echo off the bus walls long after he was done.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t introduce you two,” Hawkins said like he had forgotten his manners though I knew this was for show.

“Joie, this is Marc Reeves from
Rolling Stone Magazine
.”

My mouth dropped open wide from shock while wanting to say something, but I just sat there. Hawkins’ chuckling caused me to snap out of it and clamp my mouth shut.

“Joie, what’s wrong?” He continued to torment me.

“This is so unlike her,” he turned and said to Marc. “Most of the time, I can’t get her to stop talking.” Hawkins laughed again. Marc laughed, too, but it was forced.

“Ha, ha, ha.” I glared over at him.

“Why don’t we talk about Senator Johnson?” Hawkins smiled over at me. “Joie?”

“So is it true or not?” Marc cut to the chase.

Hawkins shamelessly looked me up and down. “You know that I don’t talk about my personal business.”

“But you’re willing to tweet about it?”

Hawkins’ eyes snapped to Marc who was quick to say, “It’s just an observation.”

“She and I won’t be doing that anymore,” he said to Marc while returning his loving stare to me.

Marc continued to watch us, seemingly confused for a second before he asked, “So you’re not going to respond to her latest insults?”

We both slowly turned our heads while looking thoroughly confused.

“What are you talking about?” Hawkins asked, knowing I didn’t post anything.

“That she wants to hump like rabbits,” Marc quoted from his notes.

“What?!” I squealed.

“Yeah, and I quote, ‘Even if you are the equivalent of an overpaid Mick Jagger who prances around the stage when he doesn’t realize that his better days are over.’”

“She wrote equivalent?” I asked Marc.

“She misspelled it, but we’re pretty sure that’s what she meant.” He nodded.

“Wow, she’s an opinionated one, isn’t she?” Hawkins muttered under his breath.

“Oh, there’s more,” Marc droned on. “But I thought we didn’t talk about your personal business?”

So, Jack from Will and Grace.

“I’m sure we can make an exception this once.” Hawkins wasn’t laughing anymore.

“That you get your kicks from homely brunette girls now,” Marc looked up at me, “who pretend to be worldly and deep.”

“Did she spell brunette correctly?” I asked him for clarification.

“No,” he mouthed.

“No, of course she didn’t.” Rolling my eyes, I was going to kill Lizzie!

“She also says that you are not man enough to tweet a response.”

“Are we good?” Hawkins growled.

“So, good.” Marc quickly got up with his things. “Wow, awkward.” I caught him mouthing before he left the bus.

Getting up, I walked down the aisle where Riley was asleep on the bunk bed. He was lying on his stomach with his head buried in the side of the pillow.

“Riley.” I nudged him in the side. “Riley!”

“What?” he groaned still half asleep.

“Where is your computer?”

“What?” he moaned.

“Riley!” I nudged him again.

“What!” he snapped and lifted his head.

“Where…is…your…computer?” I asked. “Did you bring it up with your things from last night?”

“No,” he grumbled from his comatose state. “It’s in the van,” he croaked before dropping his face in the pillow again.

“I’m going to kill her!” Slapping the top bunk bed, I tried taking out some of my frustration.

“By the way, how much did he drink last night?” I asked Hawkins while finally noticing how hard it was to wake him.

“Oh, a few beers.” Hawkins grimaced. “There is small dent in the supply I keep in the fridge.” I heard the underlining comical infliction in his tone when I turned to glare at him.

“I mean,” he cleared his throat and glared down at the back of him. “Bad, Riley, bad.”

“Where are we?” I looked out at the neighboring tour buses.

“Jacksonville, Florida.”

“Where is my van?”

“Outside, I had one of my guys drive it down.”

Quickly, I turned and stormed down the aisle.

“Where are you going?” Hawkins called after me as I climbed down the steps out of the bus. It didn’t take long before I saw Lizzie. She was leaning against my dad’s van across the parking lot.

“Oh, no,” Hawkins shouted behind me. “Joie!”

Lizzie licked her lips while smirking in my direction. Riley’s laptop was secured in her arms across her chest.

“Someone wake up on the wrong side of the bed?” Lizzie taunted.

“Give it to me!” I yelled while approaching her.

“Oh, oh, you want it now? What changed your mind?” She smiled, gripping the computer closer to her chest.

“Give…it…to…me!” Coming up to her, I tried to pry the thing out of her skinny little arms, but she had a death grip on it.

“Lizzie!” I fought her for it.

“No!” Lizzie turned away from me into the side of the van.

“You crazy bitch!” I grimaced while reaching from behind her as we fought for the laptop.

“Oh, I’m crazy? You’re the one who’s delusional!” Lizzie took off running from the van down the line of parked cars.

Catching up to her easily, I asked, “Winded, Lizzie? Maybe you should stop shoving all those cigarettes down your throat.” She ran around another car as I came up on the other side. We darted back and forth, realizing we had most of the crew’s undivided attention in the parking lot.

“You know what they say about smoking, it will prematurely age you. You’re going to look forty when everyone else is twenty-one!”

“How does it feel? You act like you’re almost forty-two,” Lizzie snapped back.

“So I don’t smoke! So I didn’t strip for the entire world to see! So I didn’t have sex with half of these men!” I held my arms out at the surrounding crew who howled in laughter at the verbal blow. “So I don’t steal cars!”

Lizzie threw the computer to the ground and came around the front of the car.

“What are you going to do, hit me?” I laughed as she rushed toward me.

And wouldn’t you know it, she did!

My hand rushed to my cheek in shock. The words were out of my mouth before I could stop myself. “Is this how it felt to date Rocco?”

Now that I knew she really would hit me, the second blow wasn’t hard to see coming. I grabbed her hair and pulled her down to the ground. Hawkins was behind me in seconds. He pulled me away from her.

“Enough!” he said as I fought him. “Enough!”

Warren ran to Lizzie’s side and helped her up from the ground. Lizzie’s eyes were full of rage when she finally stood up. She looked like some kind of wild animal with dirt smeared across the side of her face.

“And
I’m
homely?” I said through clenched teeth. “I wish that you could see yourself right now.”

Just then I heard the familiar click of a shutter going off a mile a minute from somewhere behind us. We turned around and saw Marc Reeves from
Rolling Stone Magazine
with his photographer. Hawkins released his grip on me and walked over to whip the camera out of his hand. He then proceeded to take the memory card out as well before he handed the thing back to him.

“I think you gentlemen have what you need,” Hawkins said calmly. “Wayne, escort them out.”

“Even he doesn’t want to be seen with you!” Lizzie struck the last blow.

With my hands on my hips, I looked down at the ground and fought back the unexpected prickles of tears. “You know I thought this trip was about figuring out what I wanted to do with my life,” I whispered. “I realize that you think my rules or standards are ridiculous, but I’d rather have them than be out of control.”

“I really hope,” I said to her earnestly. “That someday you find yourself because I’m telling you, Lizzie,
you
are lost. And there isn’t any amount of money or fame that is going to fix that.”

“Just keep the computer,” I added. “You’re running the show now.”

When I turned around, Hawkins was standing there. He wrapped a comforting arm around me while leading me back to his tour bus. I couldn’t stop myself from crying though I tried very, very hard.

“It’s okay.” Hawkins tried to console me after a safe distance away. “You should see some of the winners Swank and I get into sometimes. It’s just the stress of constantly being on the road and around each other.”

“And I’m in what band?” I laughed.

“You’re in my band. My Joie band.”

“Nice.” I smiled as we headed up the steps to his bus again.

“Wow, you didn’t even flinch.” He looked back down at the stairs. “I’m proud of you.”

Sitting down on the couch, I remembered the interview with the guy from
Rolling Stone Magazine
.

“What were you trying to do in that interview anyway?” I asked him. “Wind him up or me?”

“Who me?” he asked innocently.

“Yes,
you
,” I smiled.

“You were cute by the way,” he added.

“So you were winding us both up?” I asked him.

“No.” He began to twirl another strand of my hair. “Did you ever think that maybe I want the world to know that you’re mine?”

“But you took the memory card,” I reminded him.

“I’m not the one with something to hide.” He looked at me intently. “You are.”

“My mother?”

“I certainly didn’t do it for Lizzie.” He laughed and wrapped his arm around me while we smiled at each other.

“Josephine Hall,” he said my name with his sexy, come-hither eyes. “Would you do me the honor of going on a date with me?”