Ripping Pages (7 page)

Over the next two days, I received voicemails and emails from Van asking me what happened and where was I. I deleted them all, and continued to read over the script and the songs, line by line, until I couldn’t see straight any longer. It was around seven p.m. on Sunday night when there came a knock on our door. Tatum had been out of town for a few days on a photo shoot for a swimsuit magazine, so I had the apartment all to myself. I felt bad not calling or texting Van back and just straight up ignoring him. I would not be
that
girl, though. I couldn’t. I walked over to the door. Now, this was New York City, and I knew better than to just open it without checking. We didn’t have a peephole, so I just stood there like a weirdo just waiting for them to leave or say something. This wasn't Texas where we had guns to protect us, so if I wasn’t expecting someone, I wasn’t answering the door. The knocking ceased, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Then there came a huge boom on the door. And it didn’t stop. It became more and more persistent.

“Tatum, baby, open up,” a deep sinister voice came from the other side. He pounded harder and harder. With every connection of his fist on the door, I jumped. My breathing was labored, and my heart was pounding.

“TATUM!!! Open the FUCKING DOOR!!!!” He was twisting the locked handle, and it sounded like he was slamming his body up against it trying to break it down. I grabbed my phone to call the police when I heard Frank, the building's superintendent, come to the door. “What the hell are you doing? Get your ass out of here before I call the police.” It sounded like Frank had a bit of a struggle with the stalker but soon it was quiet in the hall. I stood there clutching my phone in my hand, scared to death. A soft knock on the door startled me. “Ms. Jennings? Ms. Michaels? It's Frank. Are you in there?”

“Y-yes, Frank,” I stuttered, my voice shaking. I walked to the door and stopped. “It's ok, Ms. Michaels. That asshole is gone.”

My hands still trembling, I undid the locks and opened the door slightly to see a disheveled Frank. He was such a kind man. He was kind of portly, about mid-fifties with a touch of gray hair surrounding his temples, and he always wore a white cowboy hat. He was so polite and would always strike up a conversation when you saw him. He was from Louisiana, so our southern roots connected us. He was like a father figure to me. Always making sure that Tatum and I were all right. He smiled when he saw me still clutching my phone. “Are you all right, Ms. Michaels?” I breathed a sigh of relief. “Now, Mr. Frank, how many times do I have to tell you to call me, Tinley? Yes, sir, I'm ok. Tatum is out of town in Florida for a shoot.”

“Well, darlin', I really think you ought to stay somewhere else for tonight in case that crazy comes back. I was just about to call the police, but he fought my grip and ran away.” His thick-swamp accent sometimes made it hard to understand him.

“Yes, sir, I think you're right. Thank you, Mr. Frank.”

He turned to walk away looking back at me he smiled before saying, “You sure you're ok?”

“Yes sir, I'm ok. Thank you again.”

“Anytime.” He tipped his hat and walked down the stairs.

Where the hell was I going to go?
I was kind of afraid to go downstairs to even hail a cab in case he came back. My cell phone started playing the theme to
I Love Lucy
, my default ringtone. I looked down to see Sloan's name across the screen. I slid the bar across the screen to answer.

“Hey, Sloan.”

“Hey, girl. What are you up to?”

“Oh, packing up to go to a hotel. Drama over here tonight.”

“Hotel? What? I thought Tatum was out of town.”

“Yeah, she's still out of town.” I filled her in on the whole story, and I told her that I was going to stay at a hotel for the night.

“No you're not. I would say you could stay with me, but my boyfriend's parents are in town for a while, and I would
not
subject you to that torture. Van is out of town with the band doing press and photo shoots. He wouldn’t mind at all.”

Oh my god. No freaking way was I going to stay in Van's penthouse after I'd rejected him. No way.

“Sloan, thank you, but I couldn’t possi—” '

“Nonsense. You can and you will. I will call him and let him know. Seriously, he'll be totally cool with it.”

“But Sloan, really I can—”

“Tinley. You are going to stay at Van's, and that’s final.” She was demanding, yet sweet. I could tell that Sloan didn’t like to hear the word no, and I was sure she probably got her way all the time.

“Now,” she said, “I'm on my way over with my driver. Be there soon.” She hung up abruptly.

I stood there, staring at the phone. I threw some clothes and toiletries in my bag and grabbed my phone charger and e-reader. I paced back and forth contemplating leaving and just going to the hotel. I mean, was I really going to stay in his apartment? That was just odd. Since I spent forever considering my options, time to ditch her ran out, and Sloan called to let me know that she was downstairs. She asked if I wanted her driver to come walk me down, but I declined.

I got downstairs, walked out the door, and over to the black Mercedes sitting at the curb.

An older man got out and walked around to my side. He smiled as he opened my door.

I smiled back, thanking him as I climbed in the seat next to Sloan.

She looked flawless as always in designer jeans, a royal blue pleated shirt, and a white blazer.

She gave me a hug and pecked me on both cheeks as I'd seen countless elite people do.

“Tinley. Are you sure you're ok?”

“Yes, I'm fine, really. Thank you. But really, Sloan, you can just take me to the hotel down the street. I Googled, and there’s one less than a block from here.”

“Tinley, you are going to Van's. I want you to be comfortable and safe. He has security and everything.”

I sighed. “And he's ok with me just staying in his house while he’s gone?”

“I couldn’t get a hold of him for some reason but don’t worry, I've spoken to Carl, the head of security at the building, and he's aware and waiting on us.”

“Oh. Ok.” This all seemed too big of a deal. I really didn’t want to put anyone out.

On the ride to Brooklyn, I was quiet as I tried to listen to Sloan fill me in on her boyfriend's mother and how much of an anal bitch she was, but all the while my thoughts kept going back to Van and how I kind of wished I had taken him up on that date offer.

It was weird to be in Van Rock God's enormous newly remodeled guest bathroom about to take a bath. It felt odd, but at the same time, it felt kind of comforting. I just hoped he didn’t come home early.

Sloan had tried texting and calling Van numerous times while we drove to the house, but he was still not answering or texting back. Carl, head of security or something like that, was a pleasant but humongous man who actually scared me a little. He was so nice and his eyes were so gentle, that I felt instantly at ease. He walked us into the Penthouse and made sure all was secure. Sloan made sure I was settled before she left. Once she was gone, I felt very odd being in his home. I had ultimately rejected him. I tried to remind myself that he was out of town and that she said he would be ok with it, especially under the circumstances.

I slid the bar on my iPhone and clicked on the music icon. I selected some old school Toni Braxton, my favorite, and put my headphones on. I dipped my toes in the water. Scalding hot, just the way I liked it. I lay in the tub and closed my eyes, jamming out and singing to Toni for God knows how long, because the water was pretty cold. I opened my eyes just as the door flew open. I screamed and then locked eyes with that sexy rock god I may or may not have been thinking about while singing love song after love song.
Goodness, I was lame.

He stared at me for a second but was a total gentleman, because he didn’t even allow his eyes to roam over me.
Damn it.

He looked away muttering an apology and slammed the door behind him.

Oh. My. God.

I felt like a total fool and jumped out of my not so relaxing bath. Stupidly realizing that I had left my clothes in the guest bedroom. Nice, Tinley. Good thing it was just next door.

Luckily, Van's towels were huge, and quite comfy, I might add. I grabbed a giant white towel and wrapped it around myself a few times, and then I opened the door and peeked my head around looking for any trace of him. None.

I hurriedly walked to the bedroom, closing the door behind me. I grabbed my black yoga pants and a vintage Astroworld t-shirt. There goes my bra-less evening. I brushed my hair and threw it up haphazardly in a clip. I grabbed my phone and my bag and walked to the elevator to head downstairs, so I could apologize and then leave.

I got to the elevator feeling like an intruder and decided to take the stairs instead.

When I entered the living room, Van sat on the couch, drinking a Guinness, staring out the window with a puzzled look on his face. He looked immaculate. He wore dark jeans with a brown belt and a deep gray thermal shirt. His shaggy hair looked pristine, styled in a messy faux-hawk. He looked positively yummy.

He looked up when he heard me step onto the hardwood floors at the bottom of the stairs. The gray eyes were even more distinct with that shirt. He stood up and shook his head.

“Tinley. I am so sorry. I got home early, and I heard someone belting out some tunes. I had no idea where the hell it was coming from.” He smiled that thousand-watt perfect smile, making my embarrassment fade a little.

“Oh my gosh, Van. No, I'm the sorry one. I had an issue at our apartment, and Tatum is gone, and Sloan insisted I stay here. Really, I was going to go to a hotel, but your sister is pretty persistent and wouldn’t take no for an answer. She said she was texting you and calling you to make sure it was ok. I'm sorry. I'll get out of your hair. So sorry,” I said heading toward the front door.

“Wait.” Van started walking toward me. “You don’t have to be sorry. At. All. I lost my cellphone at some point today and didn’t realize it until just a little while ago. I haven’t had time to get a new one yet. Hold on. What happened at your apartment?”

“Some guy, one of Tatum's one night stands or whatever, decided to be a crazy stalker, and he came banging on our door and trying to break it down. She's out of town,” I said shivering. That really was some scary shit.

He grabbed me and gave me a hug. He cupped my face and looked me up and down, rubbing his thumbs along my cheeks. His tall frame towered over me. “Are you all right? Are you hurt?”

I laughed a small laugh. “No, I was about to call the police when our super came and kicked him out. I'm ok. Thank you.”

He breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. What the fuck? Did you get a good look at him? Do you know who he is?” he said pacing and rubbing his face in frustration.

“Umm, no.”

“Well, you're not going back there. You're staying here until Tatum gets back, and then we'll get you two into another apartment.”

“Van. I can’t—” I started, but he cut me off with a kiss to my forehead.

“No. I'm serious, Tinley. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

He looked at me intently, and my knees started to buckle.

“Ok.” I said. My voice meek.

“Ok. All right. Now that we've established that, when does Tatum get back?”

“Thursday. But Van...”

“Sweetness...” he warned.

I flushed, and then I got kind of irritated. “So, what? You just expect me to live here with you for four days?” I crossed my arms across my chest for emphasis.

He smirked that delicious smirk. “Of course, I do. Now, come on. You must be hungry. Come sit down. Chinese will be here soon.”

“You ordered me food?” I asked incredulously.

“Of course, I did.” He sat down and patted the seat next to him gesturing me to sit down.

I stood there shocked. Who did this guy think he was making me stay here and ordering me food? It was sweet and kind of hot. Just being near him had my stomach flipping and desire coursing through me. I had never felt this way around a guy. Ever. I wasn’t sure how I would keep my raging hormones in check while I stayed here, but I was damn sure going to try.

I sat next to him on the couch, and he draped a blanket over me.

I smiled at him, and he grinned down at me.

He took a swig of his beer and clicked a button on a remote, and the immense mirror hanging on the far wall adjacent from the couch started changing into a baseball game.

“Wow, that’s freakin’ awesome,” I said in awe.

Van laughed. “Yeah, I don’t like to spend money unless it’s on electronics or real estate. I thought this was a mandatory purchase.”

“Um, yeah.”

The doorbell rang, and Van went to answer it. I felt safe with him. Why did I judge him like I had? He was always so nice to me. Weren’t rock stars supposed to be man whores? He hadn't brought a girl home tonight, so maybe he wasn’t
that
big of one. Or maybe he already had one somewhere before he came home.

He walked back into the living area holding a huge brown sack and two drinks.