Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 114223 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114223 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
“We need to keep him offline and away from the tabloids,” Lucas said, adding, “and make sure there are no paparazzi or journalists anywhere near him.”
“The second part is a piece of cake. Alex is known for being a cagey motherfucker. But how do you tell a bloody grown-up not to go online?”
“You give him a reason he can’t argue with.” Lucas’ voice flirted with panic, and I tried desperately to connect all the dots in the conversation.
Blake let out an exaggerated sigh. “Sometimes it feels like I’m raising a goddamn baby. Remember the Tamagotchis? Alex is like having a hundred of them chained to your neck.”
Five minutes later, the British Tamagotchi walked inside, and Blake handed me my electronic room key, instructing me to be at the lobby at 6:00 p.m. Normally, he’d explained, there were a lot of rehearsals involved, but this tour required a sound check and a mostly-sober singer. When I walked into my suite—the whole floor had been reserved for Alex Winslow and his crew—the first thing I did was fall headfirst onto the queen-sized mattress and make a bed angel with a squeak. I choked the creamy satin sheets between my fingers and moaned. Every muscle in my body was tense from the long flight, and I didn’t even have the strength to admire the marble floors or golden-framed murals of the desert hanging on the walls. All I wanted was to fall asleep and wake up three months from now.
My phone buzzed in my hand. I stared at it through narrow eyes, as if it were a living thing and we were having a heated argument. Lucas had helped connect me to a network and the Internet. Not that it mattered. The screen on my personal phone was cracked and I couldn’t see anything, including who was calling. I pressed my phone to my ear and inwardly prayed it wasn’t my credit company.
“Hello?”
“Indie, it’s Nat! I just wanted to know everything’s okay,” she sang from the other line. What was the time in Los Angeles? The middle of the night was my educated guess. I rolled to my back, staring at the high, arched ceiling and wondering how come all the beautiful things in the world came with a hefty price tag.
This hotel.
The money I was going to get paid.
Alex’s seemingly miserable life.
“Everything’s awesome.” My voice pitched high, and I mustered a smile just so she could hear it. My family didn’t need to know I was being semi-bullied by a rock legend. They had bigger issues to deal with.
“Are they treating you well?”
“The best,” I confirmed. Liar, liar, pants on fire. But if there ever was a white, pretty, hurts-nobody lie, it was this one.
“Did you hear about Winslow? Well, I guess they were talking about it the whole flight…” Nat fished. I wrinkled my nose, eyeing the mini bar from across the room. Life was too short not to eat minibar food on a billionaire rock star’s dime.
“Nope. He’s not much of a talker. I doubt he’d address it even if people claimed he was an alien who came here to suck the life out of nuns. Why? What’s up?”
“The thing that’s up is his dong, girl. A Hollywood starlet had her phone hacked—hell, if I can even remember who—and of course, she just happened to have saved pictures of Winslow’s cock. Apparently, horses have nothing on this dude. They showed some pixelated images on TMZ, but it could have been his arm for all I know.”
I chuckled into my fist, feeling my cheeks staining red. Classic Nat. Before she became a mother and a wife, she’d been a funny, happy-go-lucky cheerleader who was always down for a good dick pic.
“So, seeing as you’re single and he’s single and you’re both hot and you’re about to spend three months together on the road, I’d love a confirmation of that rumor.”
“Don’t hold your breath,” I muttered.
“Why not, Indie? At least think about it. If you love riding your bike so much, just imagine what riding a celebrity would feel like.”
“Hardly the same thing.”
“How do you know? You’ve never ridden a celebrity.”
I’d never ridden anyone, and hell if I was going to start with Mr. Cocky Rock Star. Not that I was a virgin. I’d slept with my one and only boyfriend junior year before…before I’d lost my libido. Men had been low on my priority list since my family had crumbled.
I glanced at the time on the overhead clock. Half past five. I needed to take a shower and make it to the lobby in time for the pickup to the arena. How the hell Alex and the guys were supposed to do a show after a long flight, I didn’t know. Then again, they were professionals, even if they never acted like it.