Suspended: A Bad Boy Rockstar Romance

by Zoey Oliver

  “This is Penny. She’s the first one he gave me.”

  Tori’s eyes flick to meet mine in the mirror, but I do my best to stay focused on the road.

  “That’s really cool.”

  Kamala nods. “He said the Commander should never be left alone, so he wanted to keep a…”

  “Sentry,” I mutter, catching myself too late.

  “Yeah, a sentry to watch over me.”

  “So what’s all this ‘Commander’ stuff about then?” Tori asks.

  Kamala grins big and my heart swells a little. “I’m the Commander and he’s the General.”

  Tori nods. “Where’d that come from?”

  “Oh… Well, when I was little I heard the doctors always talking about ‘the fight’ and I thought it was… you know,” she mimes boxing, “but it’s not.”

  I try not to laugh at her ‘when I was little’ phrase. Of course she doesn’t think ten is little, it’s the oldest she’s ever been, but it’s cute nonetheless.

  “Right,” says Tori, still not getting it.

  “Serge told me it’s more like a war, and sickness is the enemy and I have to direct my troops. He called me Commander Kamala because the Commanders are in charge of the troops and he’s the General because the General helps the Commander when they don’t know what to do.”

  “I see,” Tori says, looking up at me in the mirror, but I don’t meet her eyes. I know she’s getting all the wrong ideas here and I need to set her straight, but I can’t do that until we’re stopped and that’s not for another hour.

  But Kamala’s on a roll now and she’s smart. She can tell that Tori’s interested in me and she’s a great little wingman. She’s chatting me up, telling Tori in excruciating detail what a nice guy I am. I have to tune it out. I’m not going to argue with Kamala and ruin her image of me, but I can’t listen to how much she adores me without needing to say something. I’m not the guy she’s making me out to be. There’s a lot about me that these kids don’t know, hopefully won’t ever know. But Tori knows. And she knows better. But I still see her falling for it.

  By the time we get to our exit, the movie’s been over for half an hour and the sun’s been down almost the whole trip. The kids are quiet, half of them asleep, when the bus finally comes to a stop outside the hotel.

  “Are we here?” Eddie asks, jumping to his feet before half the kids are roused.

  “We’re here, but you need to stay on the bus until I get our room keys, okay?” I can tell Tori wants to come with me, but I hold out a hand. “I need you to stay here and supervise.”

  “Right,” she answers, looking crestfallen before she quickly covers it and turns away.

  I head to the front desk and check in. They’ve given us a whole block of rooms on a floor all to ourselves, which is awesome. We won’t have to worry about anything. I’ve got the room closest to the elevator, Tori’s got the one closest to the stairs, we’ll be able to hear anything that happens.

  One good thing about being in charge as a former trouble maker is that you know all the things kids do to avoid getting caught.

  “So, I’ve got thirty-five kids in a bus that haven’t had dinner. Where’s the best place to take them?” I ask the front desk lady.

  She looks past me to the bus. “How do they feel about pizza?”

  I just grin. “They’re kids.”

  “Oh good. I don’t know. Some of these kids are all gluten-free, vegan, who-knows-what. Well, there’s a place right down the road that has a delivery deal with us and we don’t have any reservations on the conference room tonight, so you’re welcome to use that. Here’s their menu. If you tell them you’re staying here, you’ll get a fifteen-percent discount.”

  “Perfect, thank you so much.”

  “Here’s the key to the conference room,” she says, sliding the key across the counter to me. “Good luck in your competition tomorrow!”

  “Thanks!”

  When I get back outside, Tori and some of the kids are on the sidewalk, strolling around.

  “We needed to stretch our legs,” she says.

  I hand her the keys for the girls’ rooms and start pulling all the luggage out of the bus. Tori gets Amanda to fetch luggage carts — which are apparently the coolest thing in the world to kids that have never seen them, they’re trying to race each other like they’re giant skateboards before I put a stop to it. And then we’re getting everyone settled in their rooms. We’ve got someone over fourteen in every room so that none of the kids are totally unsupervised, and most of the rooms have those interior doors connecting them, so I make sure everyone’s accessible before gathering the troops to tell them the plan for dinner.

  “Pizza?!” Kamala squeals, her eyes going big. I know Ava said no junk food, but I can’t let the kid starve, right?

  “Pizza!” I say with a hungry growl. “We’re going to be in the Juniper Conference Room. You have half an hour to get unpacked, watch TV, explore the hotel, whatever you want. Stay in the building and remember what we talked about with being respectful of other people and our surroundings. I’m doing a headcount before anyone gets pizza and if anyone’s missing, no one’s getting any, so grab a buddy and make sure you’re all there on time, deal?”

  The heads around the room nod in unison and I gesture them toward the door. They’re all scattering like chickens right away and then it’s just me and Tori and she’s grinning at me.

  “Hey, listen… About all that stuff Kamala said about me. I’m not a saint, Tori, and you should know that.”

  She grins and kisses me. “Close enough. Order one with pineapple for me, will you?” And then she’s leaving the room too. There’s a group of girls waiting right outside that greets her. I know they were just hoping for a chance to hang out with her some more, so I let it go. There will be more chances to explain to her later.

  I meet the pizza guy at the front of the hotel and I’ve got to help him carry in all the pizzas. Apparently twenty pizzas for thirty-five kids is the exact right amount and I feel a little bad for giving Tori grief about it, but I know she can handle it. Everyone shows up on time and gets their pizza. The hotel’s nice enough to give us paper plates and napkins, and it goes so much better than I thought it would. Not that I expected disaster, but nothing’s ever easy. At least not until now. Maybe the lack of driver was the last of our bad luck for this trip.

  The kids are having a blast, it’s loud and crazy, but they’re having fun. For most of them, it’s their first time in a hotel, their first time out of town, maybe even their first time away from their parents. So yeah, it’s a little wild. They’re playing some game I don’t fully understand and I’m just sitting at a table watching. Tori sits next to me and leans against me, putting her head on my shoulder.

  “This is going pretty well, isn’t it?” I know she’s talking about the kids and the trip, but I can’t help but think about the other this between us.

  “I think so, yeah.”

  “You know, I never thought I could have so much fun with a bunch of kids. I might like them more than adults now.”

  I chuckle and my arm finds its way around her back.

  “Careful, they’ll worm their way into your heart.”

  “Too late,” she says with a happy sigh.

  My heart clenches and I pull her closer. I’m supposed to be telling her why I’m not what she wants. I’m supposed to be telling her I’m not the nice guy she sees. But instead, I’m just holding her close, happy to have her in my arms. Happy to not be alone.

  It’s not something I ever gave much thought to. When you’re living for the next hit, you don’t give much consideration to the future. Especially not a future involving another person, a relationship of any kind.

  But with Tori, when she’s like this, when she’s being herself instead of the rock star persona she’s supposed to be, I can see myself falling for her. I can see something between us actually happening. And it gives me pause. Because I shouldn’t be thinking things like that. N
ot at all. Tori’s lifestyle is exactly what I don’t need in my life. Yeah, she’s doing all right now, but what about when she’s not on parole anymore? What about when she doesn’t have the record label holding the axe over her head?

  I just know how easy it is to fall back into old patterns when there’s nothing keeping you away from it. And I know how easy it would be for her to drag me down with her.

  But maybe it wouldn’t be like that. Maybe I can handle it now. It’s been almost seven years since my OD. Stress doesn’t really hit me the same way it used to. And maybe seeing how things can be different will make Tori want to try, too. Maybe there’s a chance.

  Of course, I don’t say any of that to her. There are more important things to worry about. Whatever’s going on between us can wait to be named until after the competition.

  I look at the time and jump away from Tori, standing up. “All right guys, it’s almost ten-thirty. We’ve gotta be up bright and early tomorrow morning, so off to bed.”

  There’s a bunch of groaning and whining and complaints, but eventually we wrangle them upstairs and into their rooms. Tori lingers in the hallway with me, eying my door, but nothing can happen when we’re supposed to be chaperoning.

  “See you in the morning,” I say. A little of the light goes out of her eyes and she nods.

  “Good night,” she says, leaning up on her tiptoes to kiss me.

  For just a second, I let myself indulge in it. I wrap my arms around her and crush her to my body, inhaling her scent, devouring her mouth. And then I pull back, her lips red and swollen, her eyes wide and wild.

  “Good night, Tori.”

  Chapter 10

  Tori

  I really wasn’t prepared for being a chaperone. That’s pretty obvious within the first twenty minutes of the next morning. Because there’s twenty girls under my charge and I have no idea how to wrangle them. They’re fighting over sinks and mirrors and hairbrushes and it’s pandemonium. But somehow, some way, we manage to meet the boys down in the lobby. I think they mostly just give up to get me to stop repeating ‘we need to go, we need to go, we need to go,’ at them ad nauseum.

  “You good?” Serge asks, a skeptical brow arched, and I know I must look like a mess. Because in between breaking up fights and wiping way too much make-up off the girls, I never actually got around to making myself look decent. I blow out a heavy breath and run my fingers through my hair, trying to work out the most egregious tangles.

  “I’m good,” I say. “You?”

  He nods. “I’m good.”

  “Nervous?” I ask.

  “Not for me,” he says, blowing out a puff of air. “But it’s gonna be great. Right everyone? It’s gonna be great!”

  “Yeah!” a chorus cheers.

  “Let’s go get on the bus!” he yells, pumping his fist in the air.

  We corral them out of the hotel lobby, around the building to the bus parking, and onto the bus. Serge gives everyone a final inspection before they get on, making them tuck in shirts and button up buttons. And then we’re off to the concert hall where the competition’s being held, doing our warm-ups and laughing and having a jolly old time. There’s supposed to be a breakfast reception at the comp and the kids are trying to imagine what kind of delicacies they’ll have, getting a little ridiculous with their imaginations.

  “I’m pretty sure they’re not going to have a make your own pancake bar, guys,” I say, stifling a giggle.

  “There’s so many people!” Kamala says, face pressed to the window. She’s not wrong. The parking lot is filled to the brim — luckily there are reserved bus spots for the competitors — and there’s a steady river of people pouring into the concert hall.

  “Are they all going to be watching us?” Cal asks, sinking into his seat.

  “Well what did you expect? An empty room? Of course there are going to be people!” I say, trying to lift the mood.

  “We just didn’t know there were going to be so many,” Amanda says, and I’m actually stricken because she’s normally unflappable. She has that teenage girl attitude where no one can fuck with her and she does what she wants. But then I get a glimpse of this other side of her and I see she’s a lot like me, a girl who’s tough on the outside because she’s had a rough life.

  “You’re gonna knock their socks off, right Serge?” I ask, grinning over my shoulder.

  He’s being guided into a parking spot, looking distractedly at the crowds.

  “Right, Serge?” I prompt.

  “Uh… Right.”

  I glare at him, but it’s no use, he’s completely distracted.

  “Guys, seriously, it’s going to be fine. Besides, we’re here to have fun, remember?”

  I look at Amanda pointedly and she finally catches on.

  “Tori’s right! We’ve just gotta have fun singing together like usual.”

  Murmurs turn into agreement and finally everyone’s on board with encouraged cheers.

  We all file off the bus and I wait for Serge, smacking him in the ribs. “What the hell was that about?” I hiss.

  “Does it seem like a lot of people have cameras to you?”

  “What?” I look around. “Yeah, there’s a lot of cameras, so what? Parents are proud of their kids. It’s a competition. What’s wrong with you? Those kids needed reassurance from you.”

  He’s scowling, shaking his head. “Those aren’t parent cameras, Tori. They’re professionals.”

  I throw up my hands. “Who the fuck cares about the cameras? They’re allowed to be here.”

  His lips press together in a thin line, but he doesn’t say anything else. He just looms over our gaggle of kids protectively, arms out around them like he can shield them all from whatever his paranoid brain is concocting. Seriously. What is the deal with the cameras? Local news stations always do puff pieces on shit like this. And he’s too damn famous to be in witness protection, so I have no idea why he’s being so sketchy.

  I keep my distance, though, staying a few paces behind the group, so they enter the concert hall before me and then I’m blinded by a wall of flashing lights, microphones being shoved in my face, people shouting at me.

  “Tori! Tori! What do you have to say to the people that say you’re only helping these kids to rehab your image?”

  “What?” I stutter, holding my hand up to block my face, trying to see over the sea of reporters to Serge and the kids.

  “Do you really think getting involved with a known heroin addict will improve peoples’ perception of you?” another reporter asks, shoving his mic in my face.

  I scowl, pushing it away, trying to gather my thoughts for a rebuttal, but then I’m being shoved to the side.

  “Please, please, let’s not crowd Tori,” Garret says, stepping in out of nowhere.

  “What are you doing here?” I hiss under my breath.

  “Wanted to support your Mary Poppins gig. Good thing too, right?” he says behind his hand, smarmy confidence dripping from his tone.

  “I’ll answer all of your questions,” Garret says, spreading his arms wide to the crowd of reporters, getting them to quiet down. “Tori has been using her newfound strength to help bolster Mr. Davenport’s recovery, but they are not at all involved romantically. And Tori loves these kids, she’s been volunteering with them for ages—”

  Garret’s not letting me get a word in edgewise and the reporters are completely enraptured by him, having totally forgot about me somehow. I break away and try to find Serge and the kids.

  As soon as I spot him, I wish I hadn’t. He’s blocking my access to the kids, his big arms crossed in front of him, looking down at me like I’m something on the bottom of his shoe.

  “You really thought this was the best time for a press conference?”

  “What? I didn’t—”

  “We don’t need any distractions right now, Tori. You should just get out of here. Maybe they’ll follow you,” he says, waving his hand dismissively at the gaggle of reporters.

  I
open my mouth, but no sound comes out and Serge’s hard look softens a little and I think I can see the pain in his eyes.

  “We’ll talk about it later, okay?”

  I bite my lip, but realize he’s right. This isn’t the time or place to hash this out.

  “Break a leg,” I say, loud enough I hope the kids can hear. And then I slink off, by myself. I think about just hanging around the concert hall all day, or sneaking up into the balcony to watch the show, but Garret’s done with the paparazzi and I can already see them looking around for me. The kids don’t need that. Not our kids or any of the other kids that have worked so hard to get here. So I march right up to the cluster of paparazzi, head held high.

  “I’m going back to my hotel and I’m not coming out of my room, so you all might as well go home,” I say, leaving the lobby with a purpose in my step.

  I walk two blocks before I feel they’ve given up and I hail an Uber. And then I’m back in the hotel just like I said I would be, by myself, wishing I was anywhere else. It’s hours and hours before I hear anyone in our hallway, and then it’s suddenly a stampede of elephants. I jump out of bed and run into the hallway, looking for Serge.

  I spot him herding kids into rooms and try to catch his attention with a smile. He just gives me a grim look and a ‘not now’ look.

  Kamala comes up to me, looking exhausted, but also concerned. “Is everything okay?” she asks.

  “What do you mean?”

  She gives me an unamused look. “You weren’t at the competition and Serge has been grumpy.”

  “Oh… Yeah,” I say with a sigh.

  “So what’s up?” she asks, her eyes big.

  “I dunno. But hopefully I’ll find out soon,” I tell her truthfully. “How’d the competition go?”

  “We got third,” she says, discouraged.