Time Out (Foolish Games Series) Page 5

  “We’re going to talk about this later.” I let him know he was in deep shit. I wouldn’t normally have been so direct in my past relationships, but I knew Hawkins was more than capable of keeping up with me in a ‘disagreement.’

  “Yes, I’m fine,” Gwyneth insisted from further down the aisle of the bus. “I was only planning to go to the concert at 02 Arena when my brother was still playing there, but they canceled it weeks ago.

  “The last thing I tweeted was that I would be there? I’m sorry, I forgot. I just haven’t had the time to go on the site. I was always more of a follower anyway,” she stole a glance in Hawkins and my direction at the mention of this before turning her back to us again. “Well, tell them that they can stop worrying about me because I’m fine. Okay, I’ll talk to you later—bye.”

  “Everything okay?” Warren asked.

  “Yeah,” she said a bit distractedly. “That was my friend Stella; she called to see if I was alright. She didn’t know you guys had canceled the tour date and thought I was there last night,” she said as she absentmindedly played with her golden locket. It matched her gold chandelier earrings and the gold jewel baubles on her gladiator sandals. As always, Gwyneth looked understated but pretty in tan khaki shorts and a white embroidered short sleeve peasant top.

  “I’m sorry,” she turned to Warren. “I can only imagine who else’s worried about us right now. I need to make some calls and you need to make sure you call mom and dad,” she told him before she excused herself and left the bus.

  “Joie, we need to talk,” Lizzie emphasized now that Gwyneth was gone.

  “Hang onto that thought,” I held up a finger as I got up off of Hawkins’ lap. “Joshua,” I cracked a smile at what was quickly becoming our latest inside joke as I reached my hand out for his. “We need to talk.”

  Hawkins seemed to know ‘the talk’ was coming eventually, but being the wonderful boyfriend that he was, he didn’t give me much grief for it as he followed in behind me to his bedroom. I sat down next to him on the edge of his king-sized bed, wondering how best to approach the subject since I didn’t want to come off as the jealous type.

  “So, Gwyneth is still here,” I simply stated because I was waiting for him to tell me about her and was tired of not knowing how long I was going to have to put up with her.

  “She’s Warren’s sister; I can’t just kick her out.” He sounded as if he would like to, which actually made me feel better.

  “I understand that you can’t kick her out, but I think we should at least talk about her - and what I should expect, like … will she be hanging out on your bus every morning?” I mustard up the courage to say; surprised that I had the guts to even ask him these questions.

  “I honestly don’t know, Joie—but my hands are tied when it comes to Warren because he brought her with him. I guess I could tell him that it makes you feel uncomfortable to be around her, if that’s what you want?” he offered.

  “No, you don’t have to do that,” I quickly interjected, thinking that I didn’t want Gwyneth to look any more smug than she already did.

  “I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you about her,” he sighed regrettably. “But she’s a non-issue to me, so it didn’t even cross my mind.”

  “What happened?” I asked curiously. “Why didn’t it work out?”

  “I guess you could say we grew apart,” he shrugged. “The band started to take off for me and she continued to travel around the world for her job until we saw less and less of each other. Eventually, she found someone else…” he drifted off.

  “But she’s here now,” I reminded him. “All shiny and new and Meredith Grey like,” I huffed, causing Hawkins to suddenly snicker, though he looked like he was trying very hard not to undermine my feelings.

  “I know everyone makes her out to be this great person and she is, but she’s not someone great to date,” he stressed. “She never cared what I thought, or asked me how I felt about her job. You heard her today,” he motioned toward the shut door. “And that’s not the first time she’s been in a hostile situation. She may be fearless, but she’s also really selfish. And the fact that my opinion never seemed to matter to her is what truly ended us.

  “Being with her was never easy, like it is with you, Joie.” Hawkins eyes softened as they gazed into mine. “And I’m sorry that you have to put up with her being around, but you have nothing to worry about, not when it comes down to you and me.”

  He raised his hand to the cup the side of my face and I briefly closed my eyes; relieved to finally be hearing about the situation from his perspective. And I knew he was right, nothing ever felt as complicated between the two of us as it did when someone else like Lizzie put their own spin on things. And as if Lizzie could read my thoughts, she began to pound on the door, “Ah—Joie, we need to talk A.S.A.P.”

  Quietly rolling my eyes, Hawkins laughed and motioned toward the door.

  “Go—I’ve things I got to do too anyway. Stupid interview type shit,” he sighed heavily. “Besides, I can always have my way with you later,” he flashed a wicked grin. “Especially if you’re going to have some kind of stripping off your clothes melt down again,” he ticked. “I know I’m hopeful.”

  Blushing a scarlet red, I mumbled something about how those things only happen once in a blue moon before pushing off his bed to leave A.S.A.P.

  “What is it?” I asked Lizzie as I shut the door behind me so that Hawkins could have some privacy getting ready. Judging by the ‘shit, just got real’ look on her face, I added, “Do I even want to know?”

  “As your PR person, I can honestly say that yes, you want to know.” She tried to follow in beside me as best as she possibly could as I made my way down the aisle; demonstrating the severity of the situation.

  “Not this again,” I groaned as I retrieved my pink rolled up sweatpants and white tank top on my way to the front of the bus. We had been living in close quarters together for so long that I didn’t even think twice as I unbuttoned Hawkins’ shirt and continued to get dressed right there in front of both Lizzie and Riley; relieved that Warren had finally left.

  “Well you’re going to need someone to help you with ‘your comeback.’”

  “Comeback?” I felt my face pinch as I mumbled the words. “Why, did someone post something negative about me?”

  “Yes and no,” Lizzie stressed; making my head hurt. “I don’t mean like comeback with a witty comment like you did with Hawkins. I mean like a ‘visual comeback’ from some seriously bad photos taken of you.”

  “Where is it?” I held my hand out expectantly for the magazine and watched as Lizzie went to fetch it from underneath the seat. Though I couldn’t help but notice that she managed to keep her mouth shut this entire time in front of Gwyneth about whatever god awful thing they were saying about me now.

  She slapped the rolled up magazine down into the palm of my hand. Lizzie rolling up the magazines she so dearly treasured should have been the first clue to me that shit did just in fact ‘get real.’

  Letting the magazine fall open in my hands, I looked down at the picture of me. First, I noticed that the image of me was not Photoshopped unless the extra frizzy puff to the back of my dark hair was enhanced digitally then yes, yes it was. Second, Lizzie’s Ray Bans may make her look fashion forward like Gisele Bundchen, but it only made me look like an alien; if an alien was trying too hard. Third, eating just Cheetos, Twizzlers, and drinking Mountain Dew was never a diet I had ever heard of before and now I knew why. Fourth, yes there was a fourth, going to concert night after night had practically made me nocturnal and apparently made my skin look like something out of Twilight I was so pale, but not the kind of pale that glittered, more like the kind that gave off a blinding glare. And finally, looking at my petrified face as I flung myself mid-air into the van made me appear a bit more dramatic than what the situation called for next to Lizzie; the laid back, peace signing hippie.

  Flinging the damn thing open, it didn’t take long for me to
find the title “Trouble in Paradise” plastered across the top of the ‘article’ (more like a caption of words) filled with photos of me flinging myself into the van in slow panoramic shots. Given the horrific pictures, I thought I was handling the situation fairly well. That was until I flipped the page and found Guinevere Warren smiling up at me with her perfect white smile, unblemished fresh face that didn’t need makeup to look pretty, and the kind of blonde glossy hair that reminded me of why Hawkins said he preferred the hair color in the first place. Gwyneth looked like the high school cheerleader every guy wanted to sack and I was the shy, unpopular one that they were embarrassed to admit they liked.

  It didn’t take long to get the gist of what they were saying in the article. It read a lot like this; Hawkins’ fiancé (must have been a typo) Gwyneth was back in his life and I was avoiding the press because I wasn’t anymore, hence the lovely conceived title, “Trouble in Paradise.”

  “What’s the plan?” I finally turned to Lizzie, admitting defeat.

  “Makeover time,” she sang.

  “I was afraid of that.”

  Chapter Three

  When Lizzie said makeover, I thought we’d be shopping at Wal-Mart again like how we did a few weeks ago, but this girl meant a full head to toe ‘visual comeback’. Thankfully, she still had a roll of twenties from the days when Warren gave her an ‘allowance.’

  Lizzie seemed to have a plan which involved starting at my toes and working our way up to my head judging by the way we started the day off with a pedicure. If I had known we were going to go to all this trouble, I would have remembered to shave my legs. But the poor Asian woman grimaced up at me as she massaged my legs and mumbled something that sounded like ‘harry legs ahhhh, that okay’ making me cover my face in shame. I never did get relaxed enough to enjoy that complimentary massage chair. Not all was a loss though, because I did come out of the experience with perfectly manicured, neon pink toenails. Thanks to Riley, who personally picked out the color and insisted that it complimented my olive skin tone.

  What I didn’t realize was the same ‘nail technician’ who had endure massaging my ‘harry legs’ was the same lady who was going to get some redemption by waxing those bad boys in the privacy of a room in the back. However, I was pretty sure the whole mall could hear me scream in pain with every rip.

  “One more timeeeee,” the Asian lady nodded when it was never just one more time.

  Lizzie popped her head in just when I thought there wasn’t anything else to wax and she motioned in the general direction of my underwear. Lifting my head off the table, I squealed in protest, “I doubt US Magazine is going to get a close up of that.”

  “I was thinking of Hawkins,” she smiled with fake sincerity.

  “He’s fine with a-la-naturale!”

  “We’re talking about a rock star that’s sexy enough to make into ‘People’s Top 100 Most Beautiful People’ and probably has had more ass than even me before you came along? Are you sure about that?”

  “Well, when you put it like that,” I groaned as Lizzie gave the woman another nod and shut the door behind her. Seconds later, I was pretty sure even Kelly Clarkson could hear me screaming her name a thousand miles away in my best Steve Carell interpretation.

  I came out of the experience looking like one of those pissed off, but defeated dogs that act as if they’d been tortured after their first real grooming. Riley must have been laughing at me for quite some time, because he tried his best to disguise his watered up eyes behind the cover of a magazine no less as I hobbled forward to get my fingernails manicured. I didn’t know how much more of this I could withstand by the time I was actually ready to leave the place, but Lizzie assured me that we were only getting started.

  Up next was a visit to the hair salon, where I got my hair washed, conditioned, trimmed, and paid for them to do a ‘blowout’. Riley insisted that I needed to try it at least once, causing me to turn to him reproachfully and ask, “Whose side are you on?”

  “Joie, hello, I’m gay,” he cracked a grin.

  “Well, I think Harlow would find that interesting to hear,” I turned back and quietly sulked as Lizzie paid the big bucks to get someone to blow dry my hair with a round brush until it cascaded down around my shoulders like a Pantene commercial. Then they did my all-time favorite thing; waxed another damn body part. Once they were done my eyebrows were perfectly sculpted. I thought I heard Riley make a comment about what a difference that had made but I ignored him as I waited for the stinging to stop.

  Just when I was beginning to think I couldn’t get any more up close and personal with a perfect stranger, I was directed into a back room by a guy who looked like Ken Paves (Jessica Simpson’s BFF stylist) and was instructed to strip down to my underwear so I could get a spray tan.

  Quickly turning on my heel, I was prepared to bolt out of the place all together, but Lizzie rushed forward to intervene by holding up the god awful magazine of me on the cover of US Magazine blinding me into submission. Turning back around, I thought what the hell and shrugged once I was back in the privacy of the back room again. I ripped off my tank top and flung off my pink sweatpants as easily as I had done it for Hawkins last night.

  Fortunately for Hawkins, this guy was as gay as Riley, but unfortunately for me that meant I got the guy’s perspective on the condition of my body, which in my opinion could be harsher than a girl’s. Lord knows, ‘Ken Paves’ didn’t have a problem pointing out my lack of a six pack and how he could ‘disguise my midriff’ into looking ‘trim’. There’s only so much attitude I could muster up when I was standing half naked in front of someone criticizing me, but that didn’t stop me from trying anyway.

  “Seriously—give me a break.” I fixed him with a glare. “I wear a size four, how big can my stomach really be?”

  I didn’t know what came after looking like a pissed off and defeated dog, but I had arrived there by the time we were done. ‘Ken Paves’ looked Riley up and down, clearly hoping he was in need of his services too, though I didn’t know why because Riley was tanner than me even after the humiliating tanning session.

  “We’re having a discount sale today,” Ken Paves announced which was news to Lizzie. “One spray tan, second half off?” he looked hopeful.

  I could only imagine how that would play out in Paves’ fantasies since I knew from living day in and out on the road with Riley that he looked like the mirror image of David Beckham stripped down to his skivvies.

  “I don’t think Rob Harlow, head of lighting crew for the Grimm Brother’s Band,” I informed him; thinking this is what you get for telling me I have a ‘belly’, “Would appreciate that, but thanks,” I smiled with fake sincerity and led Riley away.

  “Joie, Rob’s not out yet,” Riley politely informed me like the loyal person he was, but even he couldn’t hide the grin that took up half of his face.

  “I’m sure this one time, he’d agree with me,” I said with certainty at the memory of ‘Paves’ looking at him like he was a piece of eye candy he couldn’t wait to open.

  Riley must have secretly liked the gesture because he treated me to lunch. We scarfed down on warm buttery pretzel bites, and I inhaled a raspberry slushy like I was in the middle of a marathon, but then again maybe I was because I noticed half way through ‘my makeover’ I was wishing for the finish line.

  “Next up, clothes shopping,” Lizzie rubbed her hands together in a scheming kind of way prompting me to lift an eyebrow in Riley’s direction as if to say save me, but when Lizzie zeroed in on a bar top, I decided that enough was enough.

  “This is where I draw the line,” I told her. “I’m picking out my own tops.”

  Whether Lizzie could believe it or not, I actually knew what looked good on me, but my mom never had the kind of money it took to keep up with the trends on a single family income. I had two choices when it came to high school. One, I could have felt self-conscious and embarrassed to show my face or two, own the damn Goodwill outfit and rock it out like
I could have cared less.

  However, Lizzie did look a little put out when I took Riley’s advice on a couple of dark hued tops that he thought looked good with my dark hair and my newly tanned skin.

  “Hold on, Joie,” he picked up a lavender colored top and laid it over my chest to see how the color looked on me. “Yep, this one too,” he added it to the growing pile in his arms.

  With Riley’s help, it didn’t take long before we both had a hand full of tops, a few pairs of jeans and shorts, but when I went to head to the dressing room, Lizzie shrieked, “No! You’ll mess up your tan!”

  “How else am I going to know if they fit?”

  “You don’t,” she shrugged. “We just buy everything you want and find out if it fits later when your tan has completely dried.”

  “Do you have that kind of money?” I asked in astonishment.

  “Yes,” she assured me, and I thought wow—poor Warren. He must have really liked her.

  I was just about to argue that I wasn’t okay with blowing that much cash, even if she did have that ‘kind of money’, but it was already late in the day and honestly, I was so exhausted at this point that I didn’t have any more fight left in me. On the bright side, grabbing up tops left and right with Riley doing the same behind me made shopping fly by much faster.

  When it was finally over, I leaned my head on Riley’s shoulder on the way out to the parking lot and he leaned his head on mine.

  “Twins,” he sang, and coming from Riley, that was the biggest compliment I had gotten all day.

  Once we were all loaded back up into the van, Lizzie dropped a bag in my lap.

  “Just something I got for you when you two were eating.”

  “Lizzie, there’s like four pairs of sunglasses in here,” I pointed out as I sifted through the bag full of mostly makeup and jewelry. “How many do I need?”

  “Just one that actually fits your face,” she said, reminding me of the god awful alien picture when I tried to wear Ray Bans. “You’re a celebrity now,” she added, causing me to grumble all over again.