“Hey!” Brit banged on the door again. “Stop fighting and let me out of here!”
The stern talking stopped, and the two talked lower.
“Did you hear something?” Brit thought she heard the woman say.
“I thought so, but it’s gone now,” answered the man.
Brit banged again. “Try the door!”
“What the—” The doorknob jiggled, but the door didn’t move. “It’s jammed,” said the man.
“I know. It’s an old door. Can you push it open?”
There was a bang against the door, and the man swore. He tried again, and the man burst through the door. Brit dodged the falling figure.
“Oh my gosh, thank you so much! Sorry about your shoulder,” she called as she ran by the man who was rubbing his arm and rotating it around to make sure it still worked. As a result of the interruption, she hoped whatever fight they were having would be over too.
Rushing to the stage area, Brit wished they had a clock somewhere in this place. She couldn’t have been in there long. The dampened sound from the concert boomed through the double doors. She opened one, and the volume intensified, but it wasn’t raspy Daisy that Brit heard. It was a crooning Vincent, and he was alone on stage with visible sweat across his brow. He must’ve been up there a while.
“Britnee, there you are!” Barbara appeared and grabbed Brit’s forearms. “Where were you? Daisy did a shout-out to you, and you were nowhere to be found. Cord has been losing his mind with guilt.”
Brit’s stomach dropped.
“Jeez, what happened to your face? Were you having sex?”
“Barbara, what the hell are you talking about? No! I got trapped in the stairwell. That damn door sticks.”
“Well, you look like you had a quickie in that stairwell.”
“I didn’t.”
Barbara pushed a hand mirror at her. Brit’s bright pink lipstick was smeared, and she had mascara below her eyes.
“Ew, you’re not kidding. I look like hell.”
“Yes, you do. Go get yourself cleaned up. No, better yet, I’m coming with you.”
Someone was crying in one of the stalls, and another girl was washing her hands. Brit knelt down enough to see the shoes she had helped Daisy pick out below the stall door. “Daisy, oh my gosh, is that you?”
Barbara stared down the girl washing her hands until she scurried away, and then Barbara locked the door behind her.
“Brit, you’re alive!” Daisy opened the door for her. Her cheeks were streaked with tears. Luckily, her eyes were so beautiful that she didn’t need mascara, so she at least avoided that problem. “You scared me so bad. Where were you?”
“This is going to sound cheesy, but this isn’t what it looks like. I feel horrible that I missed your set.”
Daisy looked dubious, so Barbara elaborated. “There’s this stupid door in this old piece of junk building that sticks. I’ve gotten stuck in there myself.” Someone knocked on the door. “Go away!” Barbara yelled.
“Barbara! Give us a minute!” Brit yelled toward the door.
Barbara was normally the level-headed one, like their father, but also like their father, she could be a bear when one of her young was in trouble.
“Can we find some place to talk other than the bathroom? People are going to start to get pissed. No pun intended.” Brit rolled her eyes at herself, annoyed that she had acknowledged something so cheesy.
Daisy sniffled, pulled out a length of toilet paper, and blew her nose. “Sure.”
“Barbie, can you take her to Mike’s office? I have to find Cord and let him know I’m OK. I’ll be back soon.”
Barbara nodded and led Daisy past the crowd, out the doors, while Brit found Cord at one of the VIP tables on a bar stool next to Lander.
“I know, I know, I did it to you again.”
Without missing a beat, he stood and embraced her. She melted into his strong arms. The flash of a camera went off somewhere, but she didn’t care if it was pointed at her or not. Being linked to him in the tabloids would not be the worst thing that could happen.
“I’m just glad you’re OK.” He pulled out his bar stool for her, and she took a seat and leaned in toward Lander.
“Are you good?” he asked with a hand on her back.
“I’m fine, and I hate that I keep getting into situations to say that. This was a stupid one. We have to get that stupid door to the stairwell fixed. Anyway, what’d you think of Daisy’s set?”
“She’s got real potential. I wanna see more before I make any decisions, but there’s potential there. Vincent Gordon is killing it.”
“I don’t think Vincent can do anything but kill it. He’s a star. So when do you think you’ll make a decision about Daisy?”
“Patience. Just enjoy the show.”
Cord set a glass in front of her. It was a now watered down Sprite with melted ice cubes and a lime that had fallen in.
“I guess I better drink this since you went to all that trouble,” Brit said. She had to yell since Vincent had started his next song.
“I can get you another one.”
She shook her head and wrapped his forearm in a vice grip. He looked down at her hand on his arm and smiled.
After Vincent’s next song ended, Brit excused herself to find Daisy and Barbara in Mike’s office.
“Well, the good news is, Lander was impressed. He wants to see more.”
“Really?” Daisy jumped up and hugged Brit. “I wasn’t sure after how my song with Vincent went.” Her eyes watered again.
What do you mean?” asked Brit.
Someone knocked lightly on the door behind them. Vincent sauntered in with a sweat towel around his neck, holding something in his hand. He dabbed his forehead.
“Amazing show, Vincent,” said Brit. “But shouldn’t you be backstage?”
“Lander said this was where all the beautiful women were. He wasn’t wrong. You girls staying for DJ Knight?”
“Absolutely. Hey, what are you eating? I’m starving.”
Vincent turned over the packet in his hand. “I don’t know. They’re called Zotz.”
He didn’t...
“Don’t tell anyone else you bought those. The employees are going to be pissed. Those have been in that machine since the eighties.”
His lip curled in disgust as he held the package by two fingers. “Seriously?” He dropped the ripped open package into the garbage can, the rest of the candy clacking against each other.
Brit reached out her hand helplessly. “No, don’t! That’s history you’re throwing away.”
He shrugged. “It’s just candy.”
Maybe, but Brit had every intention of digging it out of the trash after he left anyway.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
DAISY SOUNDED LIKE crap on the phone. “I’m not going.”
“What do you mean you’re not going?”
Brit tried to balance her new phone, which she had just activated that morning—a day too late, of course—between her ear and her shoulder while she surveyed her disaster of a room. She had been so caught up in the excitement of Vincent and Daisy’s show that she hadn’t even thought about her impending family trip to Muskoka, essentially the Canadian Hamptons.
It was a family trip, but family had always included club employees. It was more of a work retreat than a family getaway at this point. Rube went every year. He was a Muskoka staple. Even though Lonnie paid for the rooms and the bus to get up there, most of the bartenders didn’t go because they had other day jobs or they didn’t think they could afford the lifestyle once they got up there. But Lonnie always encouraged everyone to go just once if they could swing it, and he usually threw plenty of money around so that no one went hungry or without entertainment.
Brit looked forward to it every year, but she did usually wish it could be more family-oriented. Lander and Barbara were on the fence, but luckily, this year Brit had Vincent, Daisy, and Cord to hang out with. Or, she thought she did until Daisy call
ed her with an even raspier voice than usual.
“Maybe it was all the stress from getting ready for the show.” Daisy coughed and wheezed into the phone. “Who knows where I picked it up. I just feel like crap.”
“You don’t think the fresh air would do you some good?”
“I’m sorry, Brit. The only thing I need now is sleep and tea, and I may have to go down to the shop to get the tea.”
“It’s not going to be the same without you. Vincent is going to miss you, I’m sure. But don’t worry, I’ll talk you up.”
“He hasn’t texted since the show.”
“What?” Brit thought she must’ve heard wrong because she had to take the phone away from her ear for a second to reach her weekender bag on the top shelf of her closet. “Did you say he hasn’t texted you? At all? I’ll talk to him. Maybe he can stop by and bring you some tea and soup on our way out of town.”
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll get to the bottom of this and let you know, OK?”
“K. Have fun.”
“Take care of yourself. Get better soon. If you happen to feel better tomorrow, let me know. I’ll send a car to come get you.”
“Thanks. I’ll try.”
The girls said goodbye to each other, and Brit was left with the task of packing before she had to meet the party bus at the club. In previous years, she had driven up there herself or sometimes hitched a ride with Barbara, but she was looking forward to the group atmosphere this time. Besides, if Vincent was going to be there, she needed to get the dish.
Growing impatient with herself and her suitcase that didn’t seem to be packing itself despite the sheer force of will Brit was thrusting upon it, she threw a few bikinis in the bag and dug to the back of her closet for her sundresses. Most of what she wore was black, but a weekend at the resort called for something airier. An armful of sandals and some makeup and hair products, and she was as packed as she was going to be. She threw one more swimsuit in her bag at the end for good measure. At a place like this, there was no such thing as too many swimwear options.
She pulled at the zipper to get it closed and grabbed her rose gold Beats headphones and this month’s Rolling Stone, Spin, SMS, and a couple fluffier tabloid magazines. Those she put in her handbag, which was already overflownig with a couple sunglasses options and other random things she deemed necessary like a light scarf in case the nights were chilly and a collapsible straw hat.
Dashing down the stairs of her apartment building, she dialed Vincent’s number. Normally, she’d prefer to text, but time was of the essence.
“Hey, Vincent, are you ready to go? Getting excited?”
“Brit, hey! It’s good to hear your voice. I had a lot of fun with you girls the other night after the show.”
“It was a blast. Weird night, but it ended up good. Did you hear about Daisy? I imagine you guys have been texting all week.”
“Yeah, about that. I’ve been busy. I haven’t heard from her at all or had a chance to reach out. How’s she doing? Still coming down from the high?”
Brit sincerely hoped he meant the high of performing on a bigger stage than she’s used to and not the high of sleeping with him.
“In a way. She’s actually under the weather.” Brit made a pouty face as she said it so that it would sound even more pitiful.
“Aw, really? That’s too bad. So she’s not coming to Muskoka?”
“No, she really doesn’t feel like she can even get out of bed. Isn’t that a bummer?”
“Yeah, that’s too bad. Too bad. Hey, do you think I need to bring a suit to dress up or anything?”
Brit frowned. “Um, I don’t know, Vincent. Pack whatever you want.”
“I’ve been packed. Thought I should ask though. It sounds like a pretty swanky place.”
“It is. Listen, Vincent, I was wondering if you could do me a favor.”
“Name it.”
“I was going to bring Daisy some tea and soup from the shop right by her apartment, but I’m not quite done packing yet. Since you sound like you’re ready to go, do you think you could swing over on your way?”
Strictly speaking, it wasn’t on his way, but it wasn’t on Brit’s either.
“I’m not sure if I’ll have that much time, but I would like to make sure she’s feeling OK. I feel bad now. I don’t want to miss the bus though.”
“Great, you do that, Vincent, and I’ll hold the bus for you.”
“OK, Britnee, if it’s that important.”
She bristled at the use of her full name, but resisted commenting on it. “Daisy would really appreciate it. So would I.”
“It’s done. See you soon.”
Brit sighed and tossed her phone onto her bed. She did a complete circle, making sure she wasn’t forgetting anything. It’s not like they were going to a desert island though. If she needed to purchase something, the good people of Muskoka would be happy to sell it to her at a 200% markup, she was sure. Heaving her weekender bag on one shoulder, handbag on the other, and dragging her rolling suitcase, she stuck her phone in the back pocket of her cutoff jean shorts and headed for the door.
ON THE BUS, RUBE GREETED Brit with a holler and two air kisses, and she gave her father a hug as she found a seat a couple rows behind him near the middle of the small coach bus across the aisle from Cord’s seat. She had beaten Vincent there, which she knew she would.
“How was the rest of your night?” she asked Cord.
“Great. I hope yours was uneventful?”
“Yes, thankfully.”
“Hey, I wanted to show you this.” Cord scooted to the edge of his seat and stuck his phone out into the aisle for her to look at. “I found a review of the show. They loved Daisy.”
“That’s amazing!” Brit flicked through the screen.
“Are we waiting on anyone else?” The driver looked up at them in his over-sized rear-view mirror.
“Vincent’s not here yet,” said Brit.
“My other daughter and her fiancé should be here any minute too.”
“Barbara’s actually taking the bus this year?” asked Brit.
“We have a smaller group, so I convinced her. More family time,” said Lonnie. “Mr. Gordon! Good to see you!” He shook Vincent’s hand as he boarded the bus.
Without much of an invitation, Vincent dropped his bag on the empty seat behind Lonnie’s and in front of Brit’s and squished into Brit’s seat next to her.
“Hey!” Brit was caught off guard, and she wasn’t sure if her exclamation came out more as a greeting or of someone put out. There was plenty of space on the bus, and no one else was sharing seats except for probably Barbara and Lander when they arrived. “How did Daisy look?”
“I only stopped in briefly. I didn’t want to arrive here too late.”
“Oh, it’s fine. You’re not even the last one here. Did she look OK?”
“She was buried under blankets. She seemed embarrassed that I was there, but she thanked me a lot. Now that I’m here, though, I’m glad I went. It was the friend thing to do.”
Whoa, whoa, whoa, did he just say friend? He better at least mean “friends with benefits” based on what Daisy had told Brit. She tried to clarify. “Yeah, thanks, friend. I wanted to do it myself, but you know women and packing for vacation.” She mock-shrugged and made a face.
“Ha, yeah.”
Lander came on the bus to a round of excitement and greetings with Barbara in his wake, and then they were off. Vincent rattled on about the show, and about shows he had coming up, and about people he had performed with aside from DJ Knight.
Brit ran her finger along the edge of her bag on the floor. She could just about reach her Beats headphones, but it would be pretty rude to cut him off.
“Hey, Vincent, I’ll be right back.” She jumped up and moved toward the back of the bus by the on-board restroom.
“Remember, Brit! No two-sies, just one-sies!”
“Ew, Rube, don’t be disgusti
ng.” Leave it to Rube to suck the air out of a moving bus.
She stared at herself in the mirror long enough to make it seem like she did something, flushed, ran the water, and came back out. Cord was outside the door, so she moved aside to let him pass.
“Can I talk to you for a minute?” He pointed to a seat in the back.
“Sure.” Brit flopped into the seat by the window and hugged one of her knees to her chest. “What’s up?”
“You and Vincent...”
Brit stared at him blankly. First looking around to make sure no one was listening to this absurd line of questioning she expected to happen next, she whispered, “You’re kidding, right? Vincent is with Daisy.”
“Does he know that? Because he’s been flirting with you since he met you.”
“That’s just the kind of guy he is. Not that it’s any of your business, but he and Daisy hooked up. She really likes him.”
“I didn’t know that part, but just be careful. He probably thinks he’s hooking up with you next.”
Brit steeled herself. “Uh, no. Not a chance of that.”
Vincent had been talking to Lander, but his eyes wandered and caught Brit’s.
She excused herself from Cord. “I’m going to go sit with Barbara, but not because I think you’re right.”
“‘Course not.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
WHEN THEY ARRIVED AT the resort, Brit went right to her room and dropped her bags off before changing into her bikini. She chose a navy blue polka dot pin-up style suit with high-waist bottoms and a halter top. She wrapped a cream cover-up over her and slipped into 4-inch-high espadrilles to complete the look.
Rube was already at the pool getting drinks at the bar for himself and Walter. Cord showed up at the same time as Brit. To avoid hearing Rube tell stories to the bartender when she’d rather be relaxing, Brit picked a seat across the pool from the bar. She situated herself in the lounge chair with her sunglasses, Spin magazine, and headphones. She wasn’t sure if she would use the headphones, but she liked to have the option in case she needed to tune anyone out.
Brit with the Pink Hair (The Rockin' Austen Series, #1) Page 10