Foolish Games

by Leah Spiegel

  The freshly shaven man wore a pressed, button down shirt and had short, gelled hair. It was obvious that he wasn’t the crew or one of us “groupies.” He didn’t look like he had weathered the elements of being on the road like we had. He reminded me of Jack from Will and Grace with the same snobby air about him.

  I noticed that once again, Hawkins was the only one who could pull off looking hot at this hour in the morning. My eyes gazed over his disheveled hair, unshaven face, and the cup of coffee from Starbucks in his hand.

  “Oh, I had missed the sweats.” He winked.

  Blushing a crimson red, I sat down beside him. He leaned back and placed his arm on the back of the couch. It wasn’t until I sat down that I realized our guest had a small tape recorder in his hand.

  Lord have mercy.

  “Umm.” The man looked down at his notes that were laying beside him. “Where was I?”

  Hawkins looked lovingly over at me while he twirled a strand of my hair. Narrowing my eyes, as if to ask him what he was doing? He just smiled at me even more like he was enjoying a private joke.

  “You were saying?” Hawkins prompted the gentleman.

  “Yeah, so are you still involved.” He looked over at me.

  “If ever,” he said hesitatingly. “Involved with Lizzie McIntyre?”

  Glaring over at Hawkins, I knowingly rolled my eyes. His laugh seemed to echo off the bus walls long after he was done.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t introduce you two,” Hawkins said like he had forgotten his manners though I knew this was for show.

  “Joie, this is Marc Reeves from Rolling Stone Magazine.”

  My mouth dropped open wide from shock while wanting to say something, but I just sat there. Hawkins’ chuckling caused me to snap out of it and clamp my mouth shut.

  “Joie, what’s wrong?” He continued to torment me.

  “This is so unlike her,” he turned and said to Marc. “Most of the time, I can’t get her to stop talking.” Hawkins laughed again. Marc laughed, too, but it was forced.

  “Ha, ha, ha.” I glared over at him.

  “Why don’t we talk about Senator Johnson?” Hawkins smiled over at me. “Joie?”

  “So is it true or not?” Marc cut to the chase.

  Hawkins shamelessly looked me up and down. “You know that I don’t talk about my personal business.”

  “But you’re willing to tweet about it?”

  Hawkins’ eyes snapped to Marc who was quick to say, “It’s just an observation.”

  “She and I won’t be doing that anymore,” he said to Marc while returning his loving stare to me.

  Marc continued to watch us, seemingly confused for a second before he asked, “So you’re not going to respond to her latest insults?”

  We both slowly turned our heads while looking thoroughly confused.

  “What are you talking about?” Hawkins asked, knowing I didn’t post anything.

  “That she wants to hump like rabbits,” Marc quoted from his notes.

  “What?!” I squealed.

  “Yeah, and I quote, ‘Even if you are the equivalent of an overpaid Mick Jagger who prances around the stage when he doesn’t realize that his better days are over.’”

  “She wrote equivalent?” I asked Marc.

  “She misspelled it, but we’re pretty sure that’s what she meant.” He nodded.

  “Wow, she’s an opinionated one, isn’t she?” Hawkins muttered under his breath.

  “Oh, there’s more,” Marc droned on. “But I thought we didn’t talk about your personal business?”

  So, Jack from Will and Grace.

  “I’m sure we can make an exception this once.” Hawkins wasn’t laughing anymore.

  “That you get your kicks from homely brunette girls now,” Marc looked up at me, “who pretend to be worldly and deep.”

  “Did she spell brunette correctly?” I asked him for clarification.

  “No,” he mouthed.

  “No, of course she didn’t.” Rolling my eyes, I was going to kill Lizzie!

  “She also says that you are not man enough to tweet a response.”

  “Are we good?” Hawkins growled.

  “So, good.” Marc quickly got up with his things. “Wow, awkward.” I caught him mouthing before he left the bus.

  Getting up, I walked down the aisle where Riley was asleep on the bunk bed. He was lying on his stomach with his head buried in the side of the pillow.

  “Riley.” I nudged him in the side. “Riley!”

  “What?” he groaned still half asleep.

  “Where is your computer?”

  “What?” he moaned.

  “Riley!” I nudged him again.

  “What!” he snapped and lifted his head.

  “Where…is…your…computer?” I asked. “Did you bring it up with your things from last night?”

  “No,” he grumbled from his comatose state. “It’s in the van,” he croaked before dropping his face in the pillow again.

  “I’m going to kill her!” Slapping the top bunk bed, I tried taking out some of my frustration.

  “By the way, how much did he drink last night?” I asked Hawkins while finally noticing how hard it was to wake him.

  “Oh, a few beers.” Hawkins grimaced. “There is small dent in the supply I keep in the fridge.” I heard the underlining comical infliction in his tone when I turned to glare at him.

  “I mean,” he cleared his throat and glared down at the back of him. “Bad, Riley, bad.”

  “Where are we?” I looked out at the neighboring tour buses.

  “Jacksonville, Florida.”

  “Where is my van?”

  “Outside, I had one of my guys drive it down.”

  Quickly, I turned and stormed down the aisle.

  “Where are you going?” Hawkins called after me as I climbed down the steps out of the bus. It didn’t take long before I saw Lizzie. She was leaning against my dad’s van across the parking lot.

  “Oh, no,” Hawkins shouted behind me. “Joie!”

  Lizzie licked her lips while smirking in my direction. Riley’s laptop was secured in her arms across her chest.

  “Someone wake up on the wrong side of the bed?” Lizzie taunted.

  “Give it to me!” I yelled while approaching her.

  “Oh, oh, you want it now? What changed your mind?” She smiled, gripping the computer closer to her chest.

  “Give…it…to…me!” Coming up to her, I tried to pry the thing out of her skinny little arms, but she had a death grip on it.

  “Lizzie!” I fought her for it.

  “No!” Lizzie turned away from me into the side of the van.

  “You crazy bitch!” I grimaced while reaching from behind her as we fought for the laptop.

  “Oh, I’m crazy? You’re the one who’s delusional!” Lizzie took off running from the van down the line of parked cars.

  Catching up to her easily, I asked, “Winded, Lizzie? Maybe you should stop shoving all those cigarettes down your throat.” She ran around another car as I came up on the other side. We darted back and forth, realizing we had most of the crew’s undivided attention in the parking lot.

  “You know what they say about smoking, it will prematurely age you. You’re going to look forty when everyone else is twenty-one!”

  “How does it feel? You act like you’re almost forty-two,” Lizzie snapped back.

  “So I don’t smoke! So I didn’t strip for the entire world to see! So I didn’t have sex with half of these men!” I held my arms out at the surrounding crew who howled in laughter at the verbal blow. “So I don’t steal cars!”

  Lizzie threw the computer to the ground and came around the front of the car.

  “What are you going to do, hit me?” I laughed as she rushed toward me.

  And wouldn’t you know it, she did!

  My hand rushed to my cheek in shock. The words were out of my mouth before I could stop myself. “Is this how it felt to date Rocco?”


  Now that I knew she really would hit me, the second blow wasn’t hard to see coming. I grabbed her hair and pulled her down to the ground. Hawkins was behind me in seconds. He pulled me away from her.

  “Enough!” he said as I fought him. “Enough!”

  Warren ran to Lizzie’s side and helped her up from the ground. Lizzie’s eyes were full of rage when she finally stood up. She looked like some kind of wild animal with dirt smeared across the side of her face.

  “And I’m homely?” I said through clenched teeth. “I wish that you could see yourself right now.”

  Just then I heard the familiar click of a shutter going off a mile a minute from somewhere behind us. We turned around and saw Marc Reeves from Rolling Stone Magazine with his photographer. Hawkins released his grip on me and walked over to whip the camera out of his hand. He then proceeded to take the memory card out as well before he handed the thing back to him.

  “I think you gentlemen have what you need,” Hawkins said calmly. “Wayne, escort them out.”

  “Even he doesn’t want to be seen with you!” Lizzie struck the last blow.

  With my hands on my hips, I looked down at the ground and fought back the unexpected prickles of tears. “You know I thought this trip was about figuring out what I wanted to do with my life,” I whispered. “I realize that you think my rules or standards are ridiculous, but I’d rather have them than be out of control.”

  “I really hope,” I said to her earnestly. “That someday you find yourself because I’m telling you, Lizzie, you are lost. And there isn’t any amount of money or fame that is going to fix that.”

  “Just keep the computer,” I added. “You’re running the show now.”

  When I turned around, Hawkins was standing there. He wrapped a comforting arm around me while leading me back to his tour bus. I couldn’t stop myself from crying though I tried very, very hard.

  “It’s okay.” Hawkins tried to console me after a safe distance away. “You should see some of the winners Swank and I get into sometimes. It’s just the stress of constantly being on the road and around each other.”

  “And I’m in what band?” I laughed.

  “You’re in my band. My Joie band.”

  “Nice.” I smiled as we headed up the steps to his bus again.

  “Wow, you didn’t even flinch.” He looked back down at the stairs. “I’m proud of you.”

  Sitting down on the couch, I remembered the interview with the guy from Rolling Stone Magazine.

  “What were you trying to do in that interview anyway?” I asked him. “Wind him up or me?”

  “Who me?” he asked innocently.

  “Yes, you,” I smiled.

  “You were cute by the way,” he added.

  “So you were winding us both up?” I asked him.

  “No.” He began to twirl another strand of my hair. “Did you ever think that maybe I want the world to know that you’re mine?”

  “But you took the memory card,” I reminded him.

  “I’m not the one with something to hide.” He looked at me intently. “You are.”

  “My mother?”

  “I certainly didn’t do it for Lizzie.” He laughed and wrapped his arm around me while we smiled at each other.

  “Josephine Hall,” he said my name with his sexy, come-hither eyes. “Would you do me the honor of going on a date with me?”

  “A date?”

  “Yes, I just thought that,” his lip twitched up, “we would make it official now that we’re not blogging about each other any longer.”

  “What do you have planned?”

  “Is that a yes?”

  “Yes.” I smiled.

  “Good.” He pushed off the seat and got up. “I have a surprise for you.”

  “A surprise?”

  “Come on.” He held his hand out for me.

  Taking my hand, he helped me up.

  “What kind of surprise?” I followed in behind him to his room, but everything looked as I had left it.

  “Have a seat, I have to get something.” He reached into his closet while I took a seat on the edge of his bed. “We hire a national cleaning company that comes in at various cities to pick up and restock our buses. Anyway,” he reached up and unhooked a dozen or so hangers filled with clothes with clear plastic draped over them. “they had your clothes cleaned for you.”

  I was speechless while taking the plastic-covered garments in my hands. “Oh, thank you.” I hugged them. “Thank you.” I know it’s just clean clothes, but it felt like how on Survivor when they stand on pegs for twenty hours just to get an Oreo cookie. I hadn’t had clean clothes since this trip started.

  “There’s one rule.”

  “Yes?” I looked up from the clothes in my lap.

  “You wear our t-shirts to sleep in.” He smiled down at me.

  “I promise.” Smiling up at him, I smooched my lips together as he leaned down to give me kiss.

  “There’s more.” He rolled his eyes. “The company picked you up some clothes for me. Most of your clothes seem to have been purchased from Victoria’s Secret so I got your sizes from Riley and had them go shopping.” He pulled out two large, pink bags filled with clothes.

  “Wow, it’s like Christmas!” Taking the bags from him, I searched through and held up a pink hoodie with wings outlined in small silver sequins on the back. “I like!” I laid it on my lap and searched through the packed bags. “You did too much,” I whispered. “This had to be so expensive.”

  “Joie, you do realize that I’m a millionaire, right?”

  “Yeah, but I’m not.” I looked up at him. “I don’t want you to think that I need this kind of stuff.”

  “Joie, you have like three outfits so actually, you do need this stuff.” He smirked. “One more thing.” He held up his finger.

  “More?!”

  “I hope you don’t mind, but I thought for our first date that you would wear something besides the sweats.”

  Instantly pouting out my bottom lip, he quickly held up a hand. “Not that I don’t like the sweats.”

  “Just thought that maybe I could get you into one of these for a change.” He reached into the closet and pulled out a soft, cream colored dress with a hemline that flared out just above the knee. The off the shoulder straps were lined in the same rippling chiffon material. Although the material was expensive, it looked more bohemian than dressy.

  “It’s Dolce & Gabbana,” he explained. “It’s supposed to be nice.”

  “I know who Dolce & Gabbana are.” I fixed him with a look before cracking a smile. He handed the dress over to me on the hanger. Taking the delicate material in my hands, I gushed, “It’s beautiful.” It was, obviously, different from what I was used to wearing, but after all the thought he put into getting it for me, I just wanted to please him more than anything else.

  “These are supposed to go with it.” He pulled out knee-high, flat, brown leather boots.

  Without a moment’s hesitation, which was big for me, I puckered my lips together and jumped up to kiss him.

  “I love it.”

  “They went a little crazy.” He pointed to the small bathroom past his closet. He rubbed his five o’clock shadow as he stared down at the ground. It was the first time I had ever seen Hawkins look slightly embarrassed. Pulling back the wooden door to the restroom, I noticed a basket with an arrangement of soaps, lotions, creams, and other items on the counter in front of the mirror. Tea lights were scattered throughout with rose petals. The small shower was behind the sink. White, plush towels were placed on top of the toilet to the side.

  “I didn’t ask them to set it up like this,” he stammered. “I know it looks like—”

  “Like they wanted you to get laid?” I finished his thought with a little wicked grin.

  “Yeah, exactly.” He rolled his eyes. “All I said was to get some girly shampoo and soap.”

  “It’s perfect.” I leaned into him and rested my head on his shoulder. “I
’ve been waiting to take a shower like this for weeks.”

  “I just wanted you to feel comfortable with me on the bus,” he said earnestly.

  “I do,” I confessed while squeezing his hand.

  “Well, I’ll let you get yourself ready.” He gave me another kiss before turning to hurry out of the room and away from all this crazy, strange, girly stuff.

  Stepping into the small room, I slid the door shut before I stripped off my old, dirty clothes. Plucking a large bottle of orchid scented shampoo off the counter, I popped open the top to smell it. It had a pleasant scent. Goodbye to the days of tiny, generic shampoo and thin little bars of hotel soap. Getting into the shower, I lathered myself in shampoo, then scrubbing cream, and finally soap. When I stepped out of the shower, I felt like a totally new person. Around the basket were hair products, a tooth brush and some makeup.

  Taking a few minutes to fully blow dry my hair, I then went to town with the tooth brush. Afterwards, I dabbed on some mascara and lip gloss. For the first time in a long time while checking out my reflection in the mirror I felt pretty. Opening the medicine cabinet, I looked to see if there was any room for the stuff he purchased me when I saw his collection of men’s cologne. Searching the row for the one that drove me crazy, I found my favorite and sprayed it lightly along my wrists just so I could smell it from time to time. Finally done with my primping, I opened the door to the bathroom and came out to Hawkins’ bedroom wrapped in a white, plush towel.

  Holding up the dress, I sighed, “Where was the tequila?” Slipping the dress over my head, I pulled it down over my lacy cream bra and panties. Adjusting the sleeves, I was surprised that it fit perfectly. The little ribbed, frilly hemline felt soft against my thighs. Turning back and forth in front of the mirror, I smiled.

  Growling at the boots, I picked them up and sat back on the bed. At least they weren’t high heels; I tried to stay positive. Slipping one leg in at a time, I admired the whole hippie chic look. When I put all the bags back into the closet, I noticed that Hawkins’ leather braided cuff was on his night stand by his bed. Picking up the cuff, I ran my fingers along it and shrugged, why not? Wrapping the thing around my wrist, I fastened it shut. It hung ever so coolly.

  After saying a silent prayer that I wouldn’t make a fool of myself, I opened the door. Riley was sitting with his legs over the side of the bunk bed while scratching his head and yawning. He turned to look down the aisle at me. You know you look good if you can make a gay man open his mouth and then snap it shut. It was even better when Hawkins stopped dead in his tracks, rendering him speechless. Looking down, I checked to make sure you couldn’t see my cream bra for the hundredth time.