Heavy Metal (A Badboy Rockstar Romance) (4 page)

Brandon and I walked down the hotel hallway, but when I stopped at the elevator he grabbed my hand before I could press any buttons.  “Do you mind if we take the stairs?” he asked.  “It’s way easier that way, trust me.”

Though I wasn’t sure what he meant by that, I nodded obligingly.  Then I allowed Brandon to guide me further down the hallway, right past the door that was marked with an exit sign.  He held open an unmarked door for me.  I saw it led down a flight of stairs that, by the looks of it, was probably only intended for hotel staff.

Though I thought it was odd, I didn’t say anything.  If Brandon had evil intentions he’d had plenty of opportunity to act on them the previous night.  He had been nothing but a perfect gentleman, and I felt I could trust him. 

Besides, I’d never quite gotten out of the habit of keeping a knife within my reach.  Though I’d never had to use it again since Earl, I still carried it with me wherever I went.  I usually kept it tucked into the band of my underwear.  In fact, it had become such second nature to me that it felt strange to
not
have it on me.

I always liked knowing the knife was there should I need it.  It was my security blanket.  Although the cold, hard steel was a lot less comforting than the warm fleece of an actual blanket, it was also a lot more practical.

But I didn’t need to worry.  All Brandon did was politely offer his arm to help me down the stairs, which I accepted.  He was a perfect gentleman and the more time I spent with him, the better I felt about him. 

I was a good judge of character.  Perhaps I had overlooked some glaring warning signs with Carl, but that was a bit different.  Then, I had allowed desperation and fear to cloud my judgment, so grateful to be away from my creepy stepfather that Carl had seemed like a knight in shining armor. 

But this was different.  I was older now, no longer a frightened teenager.  And I liked to think I was a bit wiser, too.  Leaving Carl had been scary, yes.  But it had also been empowering.  Maybe it was due to the good night’s sleep I’d had, but even though I had no idea what I was going to do next, everything was inexplicably looking brighter. 

Though he may not know it, Brandon’s kindness had made all the difference in the world to me.  It had restored my faith in humanity and my belief in the kindness of strangers.  It had given me something I had been without for a long, long time:  hope.

Brandon was a good guy.  I knew it.  I
felt
it.

When we reached the main floor of the hotel, I was surprised to find we weren’t in the lobby.  Instead, the door came out at the back of the building, which appeared to be a place for hotel staff to park. 

Brandon’s rental car was out there waiting for us, black, shiny and sleek looking.  I recognized it immediately, mostly because the luxurious sports car looked out of place next to all the other, less impressive vehicles. 

We climbed in, Brandon once again opening my door for me.  As I was buckling up my seatbelt, I happened to glance over my shoulder.  There was a huge, sunglasses wearing man climbing into a black SUV behind us.  And when Brandon pulled out, the SUV followed us.

I kept an eye on the vehicle that was tailing us for a few blocks.  Every time we turned, it turned.  Before long I was pretty sure my mind wasn’t playing tricks on me.  I knew what I was seeing and it worried me immensely.

That was when Brandon noticed the expression on my face.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, clearly concerned.

“This is going to sound crazy, but I think that guy back there is following us,” I told him.

“Oh, yeah...he is,” Brandon confirmed, nodding as though it was perfectly normal.  “That’s Steve.  He’s part of the band’s security team.  It’s kind of a drag having to be tailed by a bodyguard but some of our fans can get pretty crazy.  We had a bit of a scare in Germany last year and ever since then security has been beefed up.”

I stared at Brandon as his words sunk in.

“You’re really famous.”

He seemed to find that funny.  “Not famous enough for you to recognize me,” he teased.

I reddened.  “I don’t watch much TV,” I admitted.  I didn’t add that when I did watch television, it was usually only because Carl was insisting I feign interest in football, hockey or wrestling.  He didn’t like it when I changed the channel – or did anything independent of him, come to think of it – so I rarely did.  It was easier to comply and avoid confrontation.

“I’m just playing,” Brandon assured me.  “To be honest I completely loved not being recognized yesterday.  But anyway, don’t worry about Steve following us.  He’s a good guy, and my entire security team knows to be as unobtrusive as possible, since being babysat kind of drives me nuts.  Steve will just sit near us in the restaurant and keep his distance unless we need him.”

“Okay,” I replied, thinking to myself that Brandon lived a life completely unlike anything I was used to.  Suddenly the ball cap he kept pulled down low over his eyes and his apparent desire to fade into the background made sense. 

He was one of those celebrities who longed for the privacy and solitude fame had stolen away – I was almost sure of it.  It certainly explained his self-admitted habit of renting a car and setting out by himself to explore the countryside whenever he had time off.  What must it be like to live a dream life?  And what must it be like to want to escape it every moment of every day?  I couldn’t even begin to imagine.

When Brandon and I pulled up to a small family restaurant, we didn’t immediately go inside.  Instead, we sat in the car and waited while Steve, who had pulled up beside us, talked to someone on his phone.  Only when he leaned out his rolled down window, caught Brandon’s eye and gave a slight nod did we get out.

“What was that all about?” I asked.

“Steve was making arrangements for security.  It can be tough to walk into a place without causing chaos,” Brandon explained.  “Of course, some cities are worse than others – but it’s easiest to call ahead and give the management a heads up when I want to go to a restaurant or something.”

“Oh.  There’s an awful lot of planning involved in your daily life, isn’t there?”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Brandon replied, sounding less than impressed.  “Anyway, let’s eat.”

Brandon and I went inside and, sure enough, the staff knew we were coming.  The manager himself was there to quickly and discreetly usher us to a table at the back of the restaurant.  The logistics of Brandon’s day to day life were mindboggling.  Sure, he was in a famous band.  He was living the dream!  But he was also, in some ways, in prison.

In some small way, I could relate.

After scrutinizing our menus, Brandon ordered pancakes and bacon while I ordered a fruit platter with cottage cheese.  As we waited for our food, we visited like we were old friends.  If I ignored the fact that Steve the bodyguard was seated nearby discreetly keeping an eye on us, the whole thing seemed quite normal.

Talking to Brandon was easy.  He listened intently as I spoke, completely focused on what I was saying.  Having his full attention like that made me feel important, as though what I had to say mattered to him.  He had a way of making me feel like the most interesting person on the face of the planet.  I certainly wasn’t accustomed to that, but it felt good. 

I found myself blushing every time our eyes met.  It was crazy but I was acting like a schoolgirl with a crush.  I couldn’t help it.  There was something so charismatic and unintentionally sexy about Brandon that part of me just wanted to melt every time he looked at me.

After some small talk, he told me what was really on his mind.

“Hayley, I know it’s none of my business but I hate the thought of you going back to that jerk.”

“You saw Carl at his absolute worst,” I reminded Brandon.  “He’s not usually quite that bad.”

Quietly, Brandon pointed out, “You don’t have to defend him, you know.”

I sighed and picked a grape off my plate, studying it intently before setting it back down.  Then I looked up and forced myself to meet Brandon’s gaze. 

“You’re right,” I told him.  “I don’t know why I always feel like I need to make excuses for Carl.  I guess I do it out of habit.  Most people don’t know about how he can be – he usually keeps his temper under wraps until we’re behind closed doors.  But sometime she slips up and I have to explain away his behavior.  It’s embarrassing.”

“It shouldn’t be your problem,” Brandon stated.  “Carl’s a grownup, so let him defend himself.”

“You sound exactly like my friend Angie,” I told him.  Then I explained, “She’s one of the few exceptions...someone who isn’t fooled by Carl’s nice guy act.  She hated him from the moment she met first him, I think.”

“Maybe she’s good at reading people?”

“I thought I was, too.” 

“Maybe you’re too close to the situation to see it for what it is,” he suggested, his breakfast all but forgotten as he regarded me thoughtfully from across the table.  And I had to admit, his guess was probably right on the money.

“How did you get so insightful?” I asked with a tiny smile. 

I wasn’t sure how I could possibly be smiling when my whole life as I knew it seemed to have been flipped upside down, but Brandon had that effect on me.  Staring into his eyes made me feel calm, like there was light at the end of the tunnel and everything would be alright in the end.

“Insightful?  Me?” he snorted.  “No, I’m not insightful.  I’m that moody outcast who spent high school shut away in his room thinking too much and writing songs instead of going out and living life, that’s all.  I’m nothing more than a pitiful tortured artist stereotype.”

“Well it seems to have served you well,” I pointed out.  “All that writing made you famous.”

“Yeah I guess,” he said, reaching for his glass of water.  Then he winced.

“What is it?”

“It’s nothing,” he assured me.

Unconvinced, I peered at his hand and saw it was bruised.  “Is that from last night?” I asked.

“Well believe it or not, I don’t usually go around decking people,” he grinned.  “Actually, come to think of it, that was the first time in my life I’ve ever hit someone.  Hopefully it was the last, too.  They make it look so painless in the movies but between you and me?  It isn’t.”

I quickly fished the ice cubes out of my glass of water and scooped into a paper napkin.  “Here, give me your hand,” I ordered as I reached across the table, my own hand extended.

“It’s fine, promise,” Brandon insisted.  “I was being dramatic.  I am a whiny little bitch.”

“Give me your hand.”

He relented and stretched his arm across the table.  I gently took his hand in mine and held it in place, cringing as I examined the bruise Brandon had sustained when his fist had made contact with Carl’s skull. 

Maybe it was weird, but I was far more concerned about Brandon’s hand than Carl’s head.

I carefully pressed the ice against Brandon’s injury.

“Ouch.”

“Sorry.  You must have hit Carl awfully hard,” I observed.  I was simply stating a fact.  Actually, I didn’t really feel much of anything, except maybe a sense of awe and gratitude that someone would do that for me.

“He probably has a headache this morning,” Brandon agreed.  “A well-deserved one, if you ask me.”  Then, thinking better of what he’d said, he immediately backtracked.  “Sorry, that was unnecessary.  I shouldn’t have said it.”

But I wasn’t offended, especially not after how rude Carl had been.  I had tried to ignore his insults for a while, but yesterday had been the last straw.  Deep down, I kind of hoped Carl
did
have a headache.  Like Brandon had said, it would serve him right.

“Hopefully he’s learned his lesson,” I said.

“Do you really think he will?” Brandon asked, raising his eyes to meet mine.

That was when I realized we were pretty much holding hands.  I quickly let go and looked away.

“I should get back,” I said with more than a little reluctance.  It was the last thing I wanted.

“What?  No,” Brandon protested, clearly rattled by the suggestion.  “Don’t go yet.” 

“Carl will be wondering where I am.”

“Let him wonder.”  Then, changing the subject, Brandon asked, “Do you like roller coasters?”

“Sorry?”

“Do you like roller coasters?” Brandon repeated.  “It’s my day off and I want to have some fun.  I was thinking I might like to check out an amusement park today.  A couple of the other guys are going but after months together on a tour bus, I’m tired of hanging out with them.  I’d much rather spend the day with you.  Come with me.”

I hesitated.

“Come on!” Brandon grinned.  “It will be awesome, promise.”

“I should at least call Carl first,” I insisted.  “You hit him hard.  I should make sure he’s okay.”

“Alright,” Brandon agreed even though I could tell he didn’t love the thought of me making contact with Carl again.  “I can’t tell you what to do.  Here, you can use my phone if you want,” he offered, pulling it out of the pocket of his distressed – and probably very expensive – jeans and dropping it into my hand.

“Thanks.  I’m just going to step outside for a second, okay?”