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  Foolish Games

  LEAH SPIEGEL

  Edited by Pauline Nolet

  Cover © 2011 mypokcik 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:

  http://www.leahspiegel.com

  Copyright © 2011 Leah Spiegel

  All rights reserved.

  DEDICATION

  To my hero, my fiercest protector, my sister, my friend…Megan Summers, who accompanied me to my first concert. Really I was just tagging along so she could see Loretta Lynn play, and I’ve been tagging along ever since.

  “So take your place here next to me

  And I’ll take my place there next to thee

  And no matter how far we my roam

  It’s by your side I will make my home.”

  - Dave Matthews Band

  1. FIRST IMPRESSIONS

  “Her friend is hot.” I heard Warren, the bass player, murmur to Hawkins as I tried to pretend I wasn’t stuck in the same crammed elevator overhearing the embarrassing conversation about what to do with me. Hawkins, whose body nicely filled out his six foot three frame solidly, was crossing his arms while leaning against the side of the elevator. He glanced over at me for like a nanosecond before he turned his shoulder back and said, “You know I prefer blondes.”

  My mouth dropped open in shock before I quickly snapped it shut. Doing a double take, I wondered, who the hell did he think he was? I mean, besides the fact that he was the lead singer of a notoriously famous band. I glared over at him, noticing the way his lip curled like he had smelled something bad, and how the expression seemed to be stuck permanently on his face.

  It only made matters worse that there wasn’t anywhere to safely rest my eyes as I took what had to be the longest elevator ride in the world. If I had continued to look down, I’d have a front-row view of Warren’s hand squeezing Lizzie’s butt in her low rise, white, denim jeans. If I looked up I’d have a clear view of Warren, who looked like the kind of guy that spent his days surfing and his nights playing in the band, trying to suck my friend’s face off. Yuck! So my safest view was to look in the direction of Hawkins, who was projecting irritation with every fiber of his being.

  “Don’t worry, Hawkins.” Lizzie disconnected herself for a second, pushing her platinum blonde hair off her shoulder, and announced, “Joie’s not interested in you either.”

  I blinked a few times in surprise because coming to the rescue of anyone besides herself wasn’t exactly Lizzie’s forte. “She has these rules.” Lizzie giggled as she stole a glance over her shoulder to smile at me. Ah, that was the Lizzie I knew, I thought grudgingly. I bugged my eyes out at her, sending a telepathic message, ‘Seriously, shut it now!’

  The last thing I wanted was to have my personal rules shared with a rock star who acted as though he thought he was better than me. Surely no one wanted to hear about my rules. I tried to hold on to that notion while I bargained with God that if he could speed up the elevator I would never get myself in this mess again.

  “Rules?” Warren asked.

  I felt my shoulders cave in defeat; seriously, a little help, would it have been too much to ask?

  “Yep, and she’s breaking one right now!” Lizzie giggled.

  “What rules?” Hawkins asked as he stole another glance over in my direction. I would have characterized his blue eyes as sexy or penetrating if they weren’t narrowed and staring at me menacingly.

  Blowing a strand of my dark brown hair out of my face, I glared ahead and thought, great…now he’s interested.

  Lizzie continued excitedly, “Yep, she didn’t want to come with us but since we made her, she came up with these rules before the summer tour. One of them being that she would not be seen at the same hotel as your band.” Lizzie smiled over her shoulder at me once again, but I was beyond pissed.

  “Why? We don’t bite.” Warren laughed. “Unless you like that sort of thing.”

  “Because,” Lizzie emphasized. “Joie’s not a groupie.”

  “Oh, but you are,” Warren replied, giving her behind another inappropriate squeeze.

  “Hell, yeah, I’m your biggest fan,” Lizzie exclaimed with a flirtatious smile.

  Rubbing the stress out of my forehead I thought, and I’m your least favorite fan now. Does anyone care about that? Hawkins looked over at me once more.

  “We have rules, too,” he muttered. “One being, you’re supposed to actually be invited to our hotel suite.” Our eyes met for a second and I could tell he was clearly pleased with himself.

  “Hey, I invited them,” Warren roared from too much tequila. “Don’t be a buzz kill, Hawkins.”

  “Yeah, Hawkins!” Lizzie exclaimed like she actually knew the jerk. Encouraged by Lizzie’s comment, Warren leaned in to continue their make out session.

  I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and wondered what I was doing on this elevator anyway? Actually, invited or not I knew how I had gotten there. First my father, who I had never really known, passed away and left me a lump sum of money—too small to make much money in a savings account, but too large to leave under my bed. The only other things he left me were the keys to his old 1968 Volkswagen Van and years of needed therapy to overcome abandonment issues.

  Then Riley, my best friend, who at the moment was picking up tomorrow’s breakfast for us (and who by the way was going to be really pissed when he found out that we met the band without him), landed an amazing position of writing show reviews for The Grimm Brothers Band’s website, which included scoring free tickets to attend the entire summer tour.

  Coincidently Lizzie, who I’ve known my whole life because her mother and mine were best friends, was dating the drummer of The Larks, the opening act. That, and the fact that Lizzie wanted to spend her last summer before college doing something memorable, had given her and Riley the idea that they should go around the country together following the bands.

  I had no intention of going, but did have the money and transportation to take the trip, so they started bugging me to go. I love Riley; Lizzie has always been one of those friends that’s fun to have when you want to do something wild and crazy, but the thought of being in a vehicle with them for twenty-four seven sounded scary. I had been successfully holding them off until my mom asked, for what seemed like the seven hundredth time, “What are you going to do with your life?” or “Why haven’t you enrolled at the local university yet?” So as scary as the thought of being cooped up in a van day after day with the same two people might be, especially when one of them was Lizzie, it paled in comparison to my mother when she was motivated. Needless to say, I eventually caved and agreed to come along on the tour.

  After Riley and I deliberated over the maps, the tour schedule, and our budget; I dropped the cash in my carry-on bag. I grabbed up my vintage camera and mumbled something about getting college credit for a “sightseeing” trip across the country to my mother before I left the house.

  Five concerts later, I was in the elevator wondering…why lord was I here? I should have been down in the Volkswagen Van, laid out on the cot getting my beauty sleep and wondering what the hell I was going to do with my life. But no, I was here instead of there for two reasons. The first being that someone had to watch Lizzie in case she did something more stupid than when she hiked her shirt up a few minutes ago to get Warren’s attention outside the hotel. The second reason…well, Lizzie needed me here with her. She has never been considered “street smart.” Case in point, we didn’t know these guys. Yeah, they were on the radio every day. Yep, they were famous enough to be on the cover of Rolling Stone Magazine, and yes,
they apparently preferred blondes and I know I should get over that, but I obviously haven’t. But seriously, being famous doesn’t automatically come with a great moral compass. So even though it didn’t look like Lizzie was going to want my help anytime soon, I would be there for her tomorrow when she did her walk of shame back to my father’s Volkswagen Van.

  Ding!

  I was brought out of my thoughts as the elevator doors opened when we reached the band’s floor. Warren quickly escorted Lizzie down the hallway to the right, which didn’t surprise me, but it did leave me beside Hawkins for a brief moment before he headed out of the elevator in the other direction. His sudden departure caused the bodyguard in the hallway to freak out at the barely eighteen-year-old girl standing in front of him.

  “Whoa, wait, who are you? Hawkins, is she with you?” he asked him.

  Hawkins turned around to look at me again, but before I let him open his mouth I answered for him.

  “No, he prefers blondes,” I nodded at the bodyguard, “and I prefer someone who knows I could care less.”

  I could tell that Hawkins was momentarily surprised as if it was the first time he’d actually laid eyes on me. “So I’ll just be going now, thanks.” I smirked at Hawkins as I pressed the lobby button and the doors closed.

  A laugh escaped my mouth as I did a little happy dance to celebrate my great verbal jab back at Hawkins, that was until I heard a soft cough behind me. Crap, how many bodyguards were with us? I straightened my back, cleared my throat, and impatiently waited to exit the elevator. The doors swung open and I jetted across the glistening cream tiled floor while never looking back. As I went to exit the hotel, I glanced over at the bar that was filled with fans frantically waiting to catch a glimpse of the notorious, ass-grabbing, blonde-loving, egos so freaking huge they had to pay taxes on them: Grimm Brothers Band. I looked at all the brunettes and sighed. “Girls, it’s just not your night.”

  “And thank god for that,” I added, pushing the double doors with more force than necessary while feeling the last cool gust of air conditioning.

  The change in temperature was drastic; the humidity in the air hit me dead in my tracks. I felt my white tank top and light, faded jeans instantly cling to my body. Ugg! It was sure to be another hot, sticky night in the van. I listened to the rhythmic sound of my white flips slapping against the pavement as I mall-walked it over to where I spotted my van.

  My Volkswagen Van was from the sixties and was painted a pale blue color on the body with white on the top. I know driving an RV or even a minivan where the air conditioner worked would have been more comfortable, but my van was free, and because it reminded me of my childhood, there was some nostalgic value to it.

  Approaching the tiny space between the van and the car next to it, I wondered, man could this parking lot be any more packed? I pulled back the big awkward door of the van as it creaked and squealed in protest. I hopped up onto the mostly-covered, black vinyl seats. “Mostly” because the seat was worn so thin that the cover had split down the middle, allowing stuffing to peak out.

  “So how did it go?” Riley asked from the passenger side seat when I carefully shut the door behind me.

  I reached my hand across and lovingly ruffled his sandy blonde hair. “You, my friend, missed out.”

  “What? Where’s Lizzie?”

  “While you were at Donut Connection buying our breakfast for tomorrow, The Grimm Brothers Band showed up.”

  “Shut up! No way.” Riley dropped his mouth open in shock.

  “Way,” I sighed while looking out the rearview mirror at the flash of cars circling the parking lot. I guess it was no secret to a few people that the band was here tonight.

  “Lizzie?”

  “She managed,” I bugged my eyes out, “to catch one of the band member’s attention.”

  “That hooch! Which one?”

  I braced the steering wheel while giving him my most sympathetic look and admitted, “Warren.”

  “Ah, no! No!” Riley was clearly devastated. “Wait, what about Ryan?”

  “He’s just the opening act.” I shrugged. “The Grimm Brothers Band is the show.” Not that Hawkins would ever let anyone ever forget that.

  Riley digested the surprising news while we sat in silence.

  “Trust me,” I yawned, crawling into the back where we kept a cot, “when I say you are better off.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “It’s not worth repeating.” Or reliving, I thought, glancing up at the metal skeleton of the van as I laid down. I tossed the thin plaid sheet on the cot to the side since it was too hot for that tonight.

  “How can you sleep?” Riley asked me. “I want to hear all the details when Lizzie gets back.”

  “I’m sure in about, oh,” I looked down at my imaginary wrist watch, “three minutes you will.” I laughed as I pulled the pillow under my head and closed my eyes. Blondes, ha!

  I woke up early the next morning since we needed to be on the road quickly to make it to the next show. Granted, I knew the band was still asleep in their expensive suites or were dabbling on the internet in their plush robes. Ugg, the band! I was slowly remembering last night’s hellish elevator ride. Hawkins from four rows back at a concert was charismatic. Though after watching the casual sneer he directed at me in the elevator, I was a wee bit more resentful to be following them around today.

  None the less, we weren’t actually with the band. We were the crazy, hippie-living, at times bottom-dwelling, young groupies who helped pay for their pampered time in that big ole fancy hotel that was looming over our beat up van. I opened up the van door and got out to stretch. I looked around at the packed parking lot full of fans and was surprised that I still had yet to see Lizzie strut across the parking lot.

  I refocused my attention back to the noisy crowd. If only I could get a few of these girls alone with Hawkins in an elevator, I could diminish the size of the crowd by half. Cutting out half the chatter could do wonders for my migraine. I might not even need the three aspirins I was shoving in my mouth at the moment.

  I noticed Riley when he came out of the hotel. He was already on his second attempt to print off the MapQuest directions from the hotel’s internet for our next adventure. He complained that he couldn’t be expected to look up all the directions on his laptop because he’d be too busy writing his reviews, but I didn’t buy a word of it. Surveillance was tight because of who the hotel was housing at the moment, and judging by his expression, I guessed he didn’t succeed in meeting anyone from the band.

  A few girls turned to look in his direction, which Riley was oblivious to, and I smiled to myself. He was ripped like a Calvin Klein model and he had a face to match it. Riley was hot. Hell, half the time I had to stop myself from looking at him.

  “Did you get it?” I asked, trying to be optimistic as I pulled my hair up into a sloppy ponytail.

  “Yeah,” he uttered with pure dejection while opening the passenger’s side door. “Here’s the MapQuest.”

  Stunned but relieved, I grabbed the paper and mumbled, “Thank you.” I looked over the itinerary for the day. Sometimes I thought driving was the only sane thing we were doing on this trip which for no good reason reminded me. “Where is Lizzie?”

  “Probably still hooking up with Warren,” he said in the same small, pathetic voice.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Thank you, for finally noticing,” he implied with a mocking edge.

  “What’s up?”

  “I tried to get on the elevator,” he confessed. “After I MapQuested, but not before I got you your bagel.” He passed me the bagel before he turned to slump in the open seat.

  “What happened?” I asked while devouring the bagel since the donuts didn’t make it through the night.

  “It wasn’t pretty,” he sighed. “They escorted me out.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Yeah, well, at least no one in the band saw it,” he recalled brightly. “But you know who did? Yea
h, half the crew and almost the entire staff of the hotel; I’m sure of it. Three bodyguards, and almost,” he paused with a fake smile, “the fine police officers of whatever county my miserable ass is residing in at the moment.”

  “Good times.” I nodded.

  “Good times.” He nodded back.

  I swung open the side door and grabbed a jug of water while listening to Riley ramble off a few more probable witnesses. I propped open the back where the engine was located while he continued telling me the vivid account of his story. Gosh, he was band crazy. Maybe it would have been better if Riley hadn’t missed that elevator ride last night with Hawkins. Then he would have used all this wasted fixation and attention on something more constructive like helping me take care of the van. I knew it did wonders for me when I was trying to block out unpleasant thoughts like being in this parking lot. But, as things were now, Riley and Lizzie just assumed this old van would miraculously endure the road like it was a Hummer or something. As if the van could make it on their sheer will and determination alone to follow the band around to every corner of the country.

  Hunching down near the back, I twirled off the cap to the radiator. Tilting the jug, I carefully poured in the water until it was filled. I twirled the cap back on and proceeded to check the oil when I heard a small gasp from Riley before the fans started screaming around the parking lot.

  I wiped the sweat off my brow before I turned to ask, “What is it?”

  Riley pointed frantically over at the long, sleek tour bus that the band was slowly crossing over to from the hotel. A few bodyguards were positioned around the sidewalk to keep the fans at bay. I looked for Lizzie among the crowd, but my eyes were drawn to the only person staring back at me. I hardly recognized J.T. Hawkins without the sneer across his face. I noticed he was the only person who was seemingly unfazed by the cheering crowd around him as well.