Singleton

Sully actually comes through, and I’m headed to see my brother in his rehab clinic. The crowd of paparazzi has grown and when we pull out of the gates, we’re followed all the way to the hospital. Since it’s more than fifty miles, you’d think they would give up, but no. Officers and security guards are gathered at the entrances of the hospital when we arrive, and I’m hustled inside.

A sour faced nurse gives me a curt nod and says, “Come with me.”

She leads me, along with two security officers, through a maze of foul smelling hallways. It’s a good thing they’ll be leading me back out because I’ve lost track of the turns we’ve made, and everything looks the same. Off-white and gloomy.

Finally, she swipes her badge and accompanies us down a staircase and into a small break room. It’s empty except for a sofa, table and chairs, and a few vending machines. “Wait here,” the nurse says, and steps back into the hall. A few moments later, my brother walks in, a wide smile on his face.

He has gained weight and looks much healthier than the last time I saw him. “Asshole,” I greet.

“Dickhead,” he replies. A spare second ticks by before we both laugh and grab each other in a hug.

“I wasn’t sure you were really coming,” he says.

“You know Sully. I had to give him shit before he’d agree.”

He plunks quarters in a vending machine, grabs a drink, and sits at the table.

“How is this place treating you?” Despite the little room we’ve been put in for our visit, I’ve seen brochures for this place, and he sure isn’t roughing it. Private suite, gourmet meals instead of hospital slop, more activities than a country club. I’d probably change places with him at the moment.

“It ain’t the Chateau Marmont, but I’m coping. What’s been going on with you? Are you banging that hotel owner?”

The sofa scoots a little, grating against the floor when I take a seat on it. “You of all people should know those papers are full of shit.”

Grinning, he shrugs. “They get it right sometimes. The Daily Tell reported on my drug addiction before anyone else knew. Hell, even me. I thought I was just having fun.”

Fun. It sure as hell wasn’t fun for me or our father. “And now?”

He stares me in the eye for a minute before responding. “I’m an addict. I didn’t want to believe it, but it’s true.”

Sighing, I lean back and prop my ankle on my knee. “You can get better. Look at the huge life you have waiting for you.”

“I know.” His gaze darts away and he changes the subject. “You’re the one living large though. Tell me what you’ve been doing? If you aren’t nailing the hotel owner, you must be wearing out those groupies.”

“I’m working in the Third Street studio during the day, stuck in the hotel at night. I’m not fucking groupies.”

“What a waste! That’s the best part of fame! What good is it to have half the women in the country lusting after you if you aren’t going to partake?”

Shaking my head, I just grin at him. “I’m well aware of your thoughts on the subject.”

He takes a sip of his soda. “If the papers got it wrong with the hotel woman, then what were you doing?”

“Birthday dinner. It was stupid. I momentarily forgot that I’m too famous to eat tacos in public.”

His smile widens. “Great isn’t it? Everyone loves you, wants to be you—”

“Wants a picture with you, or an autograph, you can’t go anywhere, everything you do is judged and lied about,” I finish.

“Have you been signing autographs?”

“Only if I get cornered and have to. I’m following Sully’s advice on that.”

He gets to his feet and goes back to the vending machine, this time for a candy bar. “Don’t act like you don’t love all this attention.”

Anger bubbles inside me. “I’m not acting. I hate this. I never should’ve gotten myself into this.”

His jaw tightens. “It’s not like you aren’t raking in the money. And you could have your choice of any woman you see. So, don’t try to get me to feel sorry for you while I’m trapped in this hellhole where I can’t even have a smoke without someone babysitting me.”

“I’m doing this for you,” I remind him through gritted teeth.

He holds up his hands. “I know, man, and I appreciate it. I really do.”

It’s time to change the subject again. “Has Dad been here?”

“No, he’s called a couple of times.”

“What did he have to say?”

“I didn’t talk to him.”

My head aches, and I rub my fingers across it. The man never learns. It’s just the same shit, the same drama over and over. “He’s worried about you.”

“Bullshit.”

One of the security officers steps into the room. “There’s a crowd gathering at the emergency entrance. The administrator would like us to leave before it endangers the patients. Ambulances may have trouble getting through.”

Nodding, I get to my feet, and my brother smiles. “Fame calls, bro. You’re the world famous Marcus Singleton. Put on that cocky smile and don’t disappoint the ladies.”

“Fuck off.”

The nurse who led us down enters the room, and I gesture toward my brother. “He needs an enema. Said he hasn’t shit for days. He’s just too embarrassed to complain.”

His laughter follows me back down the stinking, eggshell colored hallway.

More and more, I’m starting to think things will never change. That he’ll never change. No matter how many chances he’s given, he’ll just keep taking until there’s nothing left.

My mood is already thunderous when I return to Foxhaven, and all I want to do is go to my room and write. It’s always this way. Any intense emotion drives me to put pen to paper, to pour it out in words so it doesn’t gnaw at my brain. It’s the way I made it through my childhood and adolescence without becoming an alcoholic like my mom, or diving into drugs like my brother.

The fact that the words which spill out make good song lyrics is just a lucky bonus. I write to stay sane, to keep my balance when the universe is determined to knock me off my feet. And it looks like today, the daily shove is going to come from a sixteen year old girl who can’t take no for an answer.

Zya Day is the star of the latest reality trash to hit TV. After acting like a spoiled brat on an evening talk show and spawning a mindless catch phrase, she went viral and somehow landed her own show. She missed out on getting a picture with me a few days ago, then she must’ve complained to Kinley about it, though I’m not sure what the hell she said. Does she really think the hotel is responsible for making me take a picture with her? Either way, it’s not fucking happening.

Sully has been very clear on keeping the “brand” and reputation clean when it comes to young girls. And being seen with jailbait in a halter top and booty shorts is not a good idea.

Two steps inside the lobby, she practically launches herself at me. “Hey Marcus, where have you been hiding?” she asks, running a hand down the front of my tee shirt. Her tits nearly pop out of the tight top she’s wearing, but I have no desire to look at them. Instead, I take a quick step back and hold out my hands, making it clear I’m not touching her.

“Clark,” I call. He looks up from whatever he was working on at the front desk and rushes over. He doesn’t need me to tell him what I want.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Don’t you know who I am?” she screeches, and tries to shove me. Clark steps between us as she loses her shit. “You think you’re better than me? I got an album coming out too and it’s better than your lame shit.”

If that isn’t enough, her mother runs over and starts shouting too. I don’t catch much, but the general theme is my daughter can do whatever she wants and how dare you disrespect her? If there’s one thing I’m aware of, it’s that arguing with people like this is completely pointless. My lips stay sealed as a few more security officers show up to deal with the two banshees.

Finally, I make a beeline for the stairs. Footsteps pound the steps behind me, and I curse, turning to deal with whoever is following me. Clark stops short, and a relieved laugh spills out of me. “Sorry, I thought maybe she sent her father after me or something.”

Chuckling, we resume our walk up the stairs. “You put your hands up like she was robbing you,” Clark remarks.

“I wanted to make it clear I was not touching her.”

“Good move. That whole family has been nothing but trouble since they got here. They won’t be welcome again.” Clark shakes his head as we exit onto my floor. “I don’t understand why we keep making stupid people famous.”

“No idea either.” I dig in my pocket and hand him a couple one hundred dollar bills.

“What’s this?”

“You can take tips, can’t you? Thanks for intervening.”

Nodding, he stuffs it in his pocket. “I’m on call if you need anything. Kinley may want to talk to you about the scene in the lobby. She documents everything.”

“I’ll be here,” I mumble.

Right fucking here.

It’s after midnight when the cabin fever really moves in on me. I can’t sleep, and I don’t want to stay in this room another second.

Fuck it.

I jump up, throw some clothes on, sling my guitar across my back, and head downstairs. A young woman sits at the front desk, her feet propped up on a chair, reading a book. Her eyebrows leap up when she sees me walk past and she calls out, “Mr. Singleton, is there something I can get for you?”

“No thanks.” When I glance back, she’s gone back to her book. I’m sure it’s a bit out of the ordinary for guests to be wandering around this late, judging by how empty the place is, but it’s not like I’m breaking any rules.

A lone figure swims laps in the pool as I pass, and I know the gym stays open twenty-four hours as well, so I must not be the only insomniac here. A chime rings as I push through one of the side exits and start down the path toward the lake. Tiny solar lights line the walkway until it splits in two, and I take the dark, unpaved path to the gazebo where Kinley found me before.

Maybe it’s because it’s set back into the woods a bit, and only illuminated by the moon, but the gazebo always seems to be empty. The surroundings are perfect if you ask me, the woods on three sides of you, the lake on the other.

Silent and hidden.

Thunder rumbles in the distance, but the sky above is still bursting with stars. Settling my guitar on my lap, I lean my head back and soak in the sounds. Water laps against the shore and a branch creaks as the wind picks up a little. A few cicadas join a symphony of crickets.

I’ve always been more of a city guy, but there’s a lot to be said for the calming effect of nature. I feel better out here. Less alone, even though I am. The song I’ve been working on starts calling to me, and my fingers find their way to the strings.

I run through it a few times, letting the music overcome my shitty day. The snap of a branch makes me look up. Kinley stands on the top step of the gazebo, watching me, a pensive expression on her face.

“That was beautiful.”

I set the guitar aside and lean back on the bench. “Such a tone of surprise.”

She shrugs and pushes her hair out of her face. “I thought you played hard rock.”

“Depends on my mood. What do you like?” I hold my hand up. “Wait, let me guess. Country.”

Her nose scrunches. “No, not a fan. I like rock, just not the screaming kind. I’m more partial to folk rock or the bluesy stuff.” She’s describing my favorite genres to play and listen to, and has no idea. She takes a few more steps and sits on the bench across from me.

A few moments of silence pass before she speaks again. “Clark told me what happened in the lobby today.”

“That family is fucked up.” My head jerks up at her unexpected snort of laughter.

“Have you ever seen the episode of South Park where Cartman goes on a talk show as an out of control teen? That’s what I see whenever she talks. Cartman saying, ‘I don’t care. I do what I want!’”

It’s a perfect comparison. “You’re right. He even wore a halter top,” I agree, laughing along with her.

She leans her head back against the wooden wall. “I mean that in the most professional way possible, of course.”

“Is it important to you to be professional all the time? Because that seems incredibly boring.”

The wind whips her hair around her head, and she pulls a hair tie from her wrist and gathers it into a ponytail. “It’s important to my business, and that’s important to me.” She gives me a pointed look. “It hasn’t been a struggle until recently.”

Plastering on my most innocent expression, I lay my hand against my chest, and she laughs. Getting to her feet, she says, “Just try to stay out of trouble for a day or two.”

I don’t want her to leave. I don’t know what it is about her or if I’m just lonely, but I’m happier when she’s near. “I know the perfect way to stay out of trouble. You should just spend time with me.”

With one foot on the top step, she turns back to look at me. “I’m not going to babysit you.”

A rumble of thunder gets me to my feet as well. I don’t want to get my guitar soaked. “No babysitting.” I run my hand through my hair. “Just hang out with me. I’m bored out of my fucking mind. I can’t leave without getting mobbed, my friends don’t live anywhere near here, and I haven’t even explored this place because I’d rather not drag security along with me everywhere.” I gesture to my surroundings. “Which is why I’m out here in the middle of the night.”

“Can’t you grab one of your adoring fans to play with?”

“No, I’d rather hang out with someone who is as thoroughly unimpressed with me as you are.”

“That can’t be too hard to find. Not everyone worships you.”

“Clearly.”

“I can’t just—”

“This could be considered one of those customer service deals,” I tease. “Making your guest happy and all that.”

She crosses her arms. “Seriously, you want to play that card?”

“We can play anything you want. As long as you don’t use that customer service voice with me. It’s awful.”

A reluctant smile cracks her lips. “I’m not sleeping with you.”

“No sleepovers,” I agree, adjusting my guitar on my back and descending the steps with her. “Sex is optional, but you’ll have to make the first move. I’m shy.”

“No sex. I’ll hang out with you in the evenings after work and show you what the resort has to offer. I’ll be your…host.”

I’m surprised she’s being so agreeable to this. We turn back onto the lighted path and head up to the back doors.

“Host? I can live with that. We can work our way up to more.”

I open the door and hold it for her to enter first, and she looks back, rolling her eyes. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. Singleton.”

“Holt,” I remind her. My gaze goes to her ass, and I admire the way it bounces as she walks away from me.

My stay here is looking a lot more promising.

Today has been a total waste. I’ve spent most of my studio time staring at the wall or playing around on my phone. I can’t concentrate. Restlessness and frustration finally force me to call it a day just after lunch, and I text Kinley.

That’s it. That’s all I get.

It’s like pulling teeth to get more than a few words from this woman.

Not that I want her to think of hanging out with me as work, but I’m playing the cards I’ve been dealt.

“What are you smiling about?” Vince asks as I step out of my office. He falls in step with me as we head out of the building.

“Just cutting out early.”

“Lucky asshole,” he grumbles. “I’m just getting his majesty his lunch. I have every intention of sneezing on it.”

“More sibling rivalry?” I tease.

“You should talk.”

I wave to my driver as he pulls up, then turn back to Vince. “Want to trade?”

Laughing, he heads over to the food truck. “Fuck no. See you later.”

The drive back to Foxhaven is quick, and the lobby is nearly empty this time of day, so I manage to find my way up to my room without security like a normal human being. It’s a weekday, and even the crowd of paparazzi and fans has thinned a bit, so I’m hoping we won’t be noticed out on the lake.

I don’t bother with a shirt since I’m too tan to worry about a sunburn. All I have to do is throw on a pair of shorts, slide my feet into my old sneakers, and I’m headed back down to the lobby to wait for Kinley.

Turns out there’s no waiting required. As soon as I step out of the elevator, I see her standing at the front desk, chatting with Clark and another young man I don’t recognize. Before she notices me, I take a second to admire her out of her usual business attire. A pair of blue shorts end high on her shapely thighs, displaying her killer legs. Her tiny tank top ends just above the shorts, showing the tiniest sliver of bare stomach when she moves.

Damn. Successful, beautiful, and a body no man could resist. How is this woman still single? It occurs to me that she may not be. I’ve never asked her. And since she sees this as a duty, not a date, she could very well be attached. Not that it matters. I’m not trying to get her into bed. Okay, so I wouldn’t pass on the opportunity, but mainly, I just want someone to hang out with while I’m here.

Clark notices me ogling her and smirks, nudging her arm until she turns to look at me. We start toward each other and meet in the middle of the lobby floor. “I’ve reserved two jet skis. They’re waiting down by the dock for us.” She shifts the beach bag on her shoulder.

“What’s in the bag?” I ask, mainly to break the awkwardness as we walk through the hall toward the rear exit.

“Towels, sunscreen, water.” She shrugs and flashes a grin at me. “I see you came prepared.”

“I have everything I need.” I pull my room keycard out of my pocket. “Want to put this in your bag so I don’t lose it on the water?”

“Sure.” She tucks it in her bag.

A young guy waits for us, flashing a nervous smile at Kinley when we approach. It probably has something to do with the fact that there’s only one jet ski bobbing in the water instead of two.

“I reserved two, Lance,” she tells him.

“Uh-yeah, I know, but there’s a problem with the engine on number four, and the others have all been reserved by guests. I didn’t think you’d want me to cancel one of them.”

One side of her mouth curls inward and she sighs, “No, don’t cancel.”

“You’ll just have to ride with me,” I announce. “Don’t worry, I like to go fast.”

There’s only a moment of hesitation before she shrugs and turns to Lance. “Will you put this inside the boathouse?” She pulls out some water, stores it in the jet ski, and hands him her beach bag. “Just toss it in the old red locker.”

“Sure thing,” Lance agrees. “Have fun.”

Kinley flashes a grin at me before leaping onto the jet ski. “I’m driving.”

“Sneaky little brat,” I grumble, climbing on behind her. She tenses for a moment when my hands land on her sides. “Didn’t think this through, did you?”

“Just keep your hands off my boobs, Holt.” She steers us out into the lake, increasing her speed as we get farther from the shore.

It’s been a few years since I’ve done this, and I forgot just how much fun it can be. She’s braver than I expected, and we zip around, laughing and occasionally waving to the other boaters. A couple rides up on another jet ski, rented from her hotel judging by the number painted on the side, and the guy driving yells, “Race ya!”

Kinley turns her head and asks, “Want to?”

“Hell yeah, teach them a lesson.”

They pull up a few feet away from us, and the man shouts “Go!”

Kinley nearly throws both of us off the damn thing, and I wrap my arms around her thin middle. “If I hit the water, you’re coming with me!” I shout.

We shoot out ahead of them, but they quickly gain on us, then pass us. “No fair. They have the best machine!” She laughs, slowing and waving at them as they drive away.

“That was awful. You let us both down,” I tease, and she turns toward the shore.

“Aw, I know you’re used to getting your way. I’ll make you a participation trophy when we get back.”

She steers us down a narrow inlet and pulls up to a tiny dock that looks new. It’s kind of strange since there is nothing else around here and I can’t imagine the dock gets much use. We both step off the machine, and I look around.

“If you brought me back here for a quickie, I’m totally on board.”

Rolling her eyes at me, she secures the jet ski to the dock and grabs two bottles of water from a tiny storage area. “I just want to check on something. Come on.”

She leads the way, and the sand turns to dirt under our feet. Just on the other side of the tree line, a clearing appears. In the center is a large log cabin in the process of being built.

“Wow, who wants to live back here?”

She throws a backward glance over her shoulder. “I do.” She gestures to her right. “I want an actual home so I can stop living in the hotel. It’s supposed to be finished this winter.”

“Not exactly a social butterfly, are you?”

Laughing, she steps inside the structure. “I’m more of an antisocial moth. It isn’t as isolated as it seems. There’s a road less than an eighth of a mile behind us, and they’ll connect a driveway to it.”

“Well, whatever kind of bug you are,” I tease, grinning at her. “I’ll be joining you if there’s ever a zombie apocalypse.”

She’s laughing, but I’m not. I don’t like the idea of her living here, alone in the woods, no matter how close to a road she is. I have to bite back the words because it’s none of my business what she does. I’ll be out of here in a few months, so I shouldn’t care.

Too bad that doesn’t change the fact that I do.

“It’s not like I’ll be living off grid in a bunker.”

“Whatever you say, bug.”