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Time Out (Foolish Games Series)




  TIME OUT

  Time Out

  (A Foolish Games Series)

  LEAH SPIEGEL

  And

  MEGAN SUMMERS

  Also by Leah Spiegel

  FOOLISH GAMES

  NIGHT CROSSERS

  Also by Leah Spiegel

  and Megan Summers

  SOUTH HILLS SIDEKICKS: UNINVITED

  SOUTH HILLS SIDEKICKS: CONFISCATED

  SOUTH HILLS SIDEKICKS: COMPROMISED

  FAE NOT

  Edited by Geoff Wolak

  Cover © 2012 Nino Cavalier at Shutterstock images

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited

  For information about the authors go to

  http://www.leahspiegel.com

  Copyright © 2012 Leah Spiegel & Megan Summers

  All rights reserved.

  DEDICATION

  To my high school crush, you’re my Hawkins.

  “If you stay with me baby you and me will change the game.”

  The Riff by Dave Matthews Band

  Chapter One

  I thought I had seen my fair share of drama go down in an elevator, especially after J.T. Hawkins, the lead singer of the Grimm Brother’s Band, announced to the world that he ‘preferred blondes’. So I can’t say that being in an elevator brought back any fond memories for me as I tugged at the flaming red halter top I was wearing that sucked to my chest like a pair of Spanxs. Leave it to Lizzie to own something so suffocating and uncomfortable I sighed to myself when the doors to the elevator dinged open half way through its ascent to the top.

  A blonde (I mean a real blonde, with hair that was kissed by the sun and not straight out of a bottle like Lizzie’s) stepped onto the elevator. She was dressed in an understated outfit that I might have preferred if I wanted to look put together without trying too hard. She had on a loose white top which verged on what some might call hippie, paired with khaki shorts and brown leather Birkenstock sandals. When she looked me up and down with a flash of scrutiny in her gray-blue eyes, it reminded me how ridiculous I looked, and I found myself fidgeting with my top again.

  “Getting out?” She sounded hopeful.

  “No,” I answered flatly, and instantly dropped my arms to my sides. I literally had made a living out of denying I was with the band when I really was, so it was crazy that I now wanted to rub it in this girl’s face for whatever reason. Maybe it was the patronizing look she was still directing my way.

  “So I take it you’re here for the band?” The blonde managed to sound pretty condescending for someone who appeared to be heading up to the penthouse, where the rest of the band was staying as well.

  I was just about to say, ‘I don’t see how that’s any of your business’ when she sighed, “Warren,” and shook her head with almost a laugh. Glancing down at my fire engine red top, I understood all too well why she assumed the bass player of the band, who had a thing for trashy girls, had invited me up. But according to Lizzie, ‘if I was going to date the lead singer of a notoriously famous band, I was going to have get out of my sweats eventually’.

  “Will he ever learn?” the blonde added under her breath almost as an afterthought.

  “Excuse you?” I cocked my head back, because I didn’t let anyone get away with talking to me like that, when the elevator doors suddenly flung open again.

  I waited for an apology, or at the very least an explanation, but the girl looked like she had completely forgotten about the rude side comments with the arrival of someone quickly approaching the front of the elevator.

  Following her gaze, I turned to see Hawkins’ piercing blue eyes dart back and forth between the seriously deceiving angelic face of the girl, and me, like he had been blindsided by the sight of the two of us together. I couldn’t speak for the girl, but I knew he had at least texted me to visit. We were supposed to have dinner together before meeting up with the rest of the band at the venue. Though I could tell something about the situation had literally rendered him speechless, as he leaned back on the heels of his solid 6’3 frame. His expression was growing tenser by the second and I felt my face pinch when Hawkins finally asked gruffly, “What are you doing here?”

  The girl turned to look at me as if also waiting for an explanation, and for a second the self-conscious, irrational part of my mind thought, ‘Was he talking to me?’

  He then added icily, “Gwyneth?”

  “Me?” The mysterious blonde repeated, clearly surprised to have the tables turned on her as she pointed to herself. “What am I doing here?”

  “Yeah,” Hawkins nodded curtly as he rammed back one of the elevator doors before it could close on us again.

  “Wow”—the blonde let out an uncomfortable laugh. “That’s what you say to me, after two years of not seeing each other,” she smiled in utter amazement.

  “Real nice, Joshua.” Said the rude blonde next to me.

  Glancing at her again, I realized that there was no way she could be old enough to be his mother, but no one called Hawkins by his first name, not even me. Judging by his harsh reaction, when I knew him to be incredibly kind to his fans and people in general, it made me start to wonder who this girl was to him.

  And just as the thought popped up in my mind, she continued, “Is that anyway to talk to your fiancé?”

  “You’re what?” My mouth dropped open wide in astonishment as my eyes snapped from her to him.

  “Ex-fiancé,” he sighed as he ran a hand over his face in disbelief.

  “You never told me that you were engaged to be married,” I squealed in protest wishing, I didn’t sound nearly as childish as I did.

  “I didn’t see a reason too,” his blue eyes pleaded with me to understand.

  “So this is Joie,” the blonde said coolly, and I didn’t like her tone any more than when she assumed I was just a trashy fan here for Warren. My eyes darted over to her as if egging her to open her mouth one more time, when I noticed she was still wearing what looked like a two carat diamond ring on her ring finger. The girl didn’t seem like someone who just put on airs for no reason. If she was still wearing the ring; she probably thought she had a reason too.

  “So you’re the reason his reputation has been dragged through the mud.” She stabbed the last painful blow.

  My mind was swarming with too many thoughts to think rationally, let alone justify that comment with an answer. All I wanted to do now was flee to the safety of my hotel room, where I knew Riley, my best friend, was waiting for me, but the blonde didn’t look like she had any intention of leaving the elevator any time soon, or the penthouse for that matter. Shaking my head, I rounded the entrance to the elevator and made a beeline for the nearby stairwell.

  “Joie, wait—” Hawkins chased after me. “I can explain.”

  “Just give me time to think,” I exhaled as I pushed through the door to the steps. “Joshua.”

  Running down thirty-something flights of stairs was more strenuous than I had prepared myself for, but what I lacked in oxygen I made up for in pure determination fueled by rage. I stormed through the door to my three bedroom suite and proceeded to rip the leech like top off of me so I could do a serious I-hate-you-mfer-shirt-from-hell dance on top of it.

  “Hey, hey, hey,” Lizzie moved in to intervene by yanking the material from underneath my feet. “That’s knock-off Versace.” She hissed like that really meant something as she shook out the shirt.

  “Well I’m glad that it doesn’t sound cheap,” I sighed as I grabbed up my usual white tank-top and pink rolled up Victoria Secret sweatpants and got dr
essed.

  “Some of us aren’t dating millionaires anymore,” she informed me like I didn’t already know that she dumped Warren, the bass player of Hawkins’ band, who had a thing for trashy girls (a particular sore spot for me at the moment). She broke up with him for Ryan the drummer of the opening act; The Larks.

  Though Lizzie didn’t look like trash. More like a breath of fresh air with the kind of Brazilian model looks that stopped men dead in their tracks. Men salivated at the sight of her goddess figure; with her long legs, tight abdomen, and enough boobs and hips to shake what the god Lord gave her at every concert night after night. It was kind of sickening really, to have Bar Refaeli as your wing girl. That was until she opened her trucker mouth, which some guys found even more endearing, go figure.

  “It went that well, ah?” Riley cracked a grin as he came out from the bathroom dressed in just a towel wrapped around his waist. I took a moment to shamelessly enjoy the view, a kind of weird habit, that I noticed I did less and less now that I was dating Hawkins, but then again who didn’t stop to look at Riley?

  If Lizzie was Barbie then Riley was Ken (with the questionable sexuality included.) His taunt tan chest made girls and women alike salivate. I should start calling him ‘Abercrombie and Fitch’ because he looked just like those guys in the black and white pictures plastered across the store. His sandy blonde hair was slicked back from the recent shower, making his chiseled jaw pop even more.

  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 without 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 a
nd 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.