Deep (Stage Dive, #4)(37)
Cream carpet shushed our steps, baby chandeliers lighting our way. It wasn’t very different from Vegas, with the same pricey, luxurious appearance. Another couple of security guys prowled about up here, keeping an eye on things.
“Doesn’t that bother other customers?” I asked, nodding in their direction.
“Band’s got this floor. You’re two doors down in Mal and Anne’s suite.” Ben held up a card to the swipe thing. The little light turned green and he pushed the door open. “Might as well come on in for a minute.”
“Okay.” Not exactly a warm welcome. Man, this was all so hatefully awkward.
Inside, his suite was big, with a nice view and lots of comfy-looking couches in shades of beige. Quite a collection of liquor bottles covered the side table, the only visible trace of any rock ’n’ roll lifestyle in the otherwise pristine room.
None of my business what he’d been up to the night before. None at all.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yes.” We sat down opposite each other. “The morning sickness has eased up.”
“Great.”
“Yeah.”
A nod.
“Thanks for the texts,” I said. “That was good of you.”
“No big deal.”
Morning and night, he’d sent me the same brief almost impersonal question: U ok? I’d responded in kind: Fine! Great! Terrific! A smiley face now and then. It wasn’t as if I could tell him I’d spent the morning hurling, feeling three days dead, with my emotions all over the place, my breasts aching, and my brain slowly being pickled by hormones. Things were too weird between us for such brutal honesty. Besides, he had a lot on his mind, with the concert and all. So instead I’d whined to Anne, and she’d been good enough not to tell me it was my own damn fault. The look lingered in her eyes now and then, but I could ignore it. No point feeling sorry for myself. Onward and upward—or outward as the case with my womb might be.
My hand strayed to my tiny baby bump, barely visible beneath my blue tank top, and Ben’s gaze followed. He rubbed the side of his hand against his lips, eyes stark. The look he gave my abdomen was one of great fear. I couldn’t take it.
“Do you have a juice?” I asked.
“Sure.” The man leapt out of his seat, obviously eager to be gone. He moved to the side cabinet where the bar fridge was cunningly concealed. The room was so silent. When he opened the small juice bottle, the pop of the air seal being broken made me jump.
“Maybe I should get going,” I said, rising to my feet. “Leave you to it.”
“But your juice…”
All of a sudden, the front door crashed open and a party walked in. There could be no other description. Laughter, beer, men and women, they all poured into the expensive suite until the room was close to capacity.
“Epic show,” yelled a lanky guy with long black hair and a woman attached to his hip.
He and Ben smacked palms. “It was good.”
Their talk got drowned out by Metallica. A tall guy covered in tats broke a beer off from his six-pack and thrust it into my hand. I took it out of sheer instinct, the wet can chilling my skin.
“Hey,” he said, giving me a grin. Pale red hair sat spiked up, and you really had to give it to him, he had a nice face. “I’m Vaughan.”
“Lizzy. Hi.”
“Didn’t see you here last night. I’d have definitely remembered you.”
What a flirt. Must have been the boobs. I’d done okay in the past, but I wouldn’t call myself a man magnet. Especially not in a room where half the women looked and dressed like lingerie models.
“Ah, no,” I said. “I only got in this evening.”
Vaughan opened a beer for himself, setting down the six-pack on the coffee table. “A fan, or attached to the band somehow?”
“Both, I guess.”
“Both?” His eyes lit with interest. “Well, you’re in Ben’s room, so I’ll assume you’re a friend of his.”
I just smiled. “How about you? How do you fit in here?”
“I play bass for the warm-up band, Down Fourth.”
“Hey, wow! I’ve heard of you guys. You’re great,” I said, clapping my hands all enthused. You’d think I’d never met a famous musician before.
His grin grew broader. Way to be cool, me.
“I really love that song you do … Shit…”
He laughed while my face slowly started to burn.
“No, I know the name.” How embarrassing and frustrating. “I do. I had it on repeat just the other day.”
“It’s fine.”
“Don’t tell me.” I closed my eyes, searching for the information inside my head. To have my own body rebelling against me, turning me into one big giant, idiotic walking baby-making machine. It wasn’t fair. “Just give me a minute.”
He laughed at me some more.
“Gah. Stupid pregnancy hormones.” I stopped dead.
The whites of Vaughan’s eyes suddenly seemed huge and glaringly bright. Yet again I faced down man fear. I don’t know why. It’s not like there could be any possible chance it was his kid I carried. The irony of a guy who got down to death metal being scared of a pregnant girl was not lost on me.