His voice began to fade away as she was escorted to the private rooms.
Chapter 3
“You know,” the man leading Holly up the stairs to the private rooms began, “Tom never does this sort of thing.”
“Does what?” Holly asked, not really paying attention. She was trying to remember all the different vocabulary words from chapter twelve, but was struggling with some of them. At times, her eyes would catch pieces of artwork or interesting color schemes in other rooms, but she was primarily focused on her studies.
He gave a slight shrug as he made a left and continued down a hall. “Actually pick a girl from the crowd and allow her to retreat to his private rooms during his concert. He usually wants them to watch him first, you know, get them in the mood kind of thing.”
Holly rolled her eyes and shifted her bag to her other shoulder. “That doesn’t seem to surprise me,” she muttered under her breath.
“Yeah, so you should consider yourself lucky,” he said, stopping in front of a large, open room. “Anyway, here you are. Completely alone. Did you need anything to drink, to munch on, to … anything?”
She smiled politely at him. “No, I’ve got a bottle of water,” she replied. “Thank you, though.”
“No problem,” he said, flashing her a grin. “If you change your mind, my name’s Jimmy.” And with that, Jimmy disappeared out of the room and down the hall.
The room had an interesting color scheme—a brick-red with a soft purple. There were different paintings hanging on the wooden walls, along with couches, chairs, and dark coffee tables. To her left, someone was setting up what appeared to be a snack table that offered chips and crackers. A couple of coolers were adjacent to the food table, and from what Holly could see, they had an assortment of sodas and beers. She frowned at this, wondering where the water was. What if someone didn’t necessarily like soda or beer? Not that she was complaining, of course. This room wasn’t set up for her, and plus, she had lots of work she should be catching up on.
In the next ten minutes, Holly took a seat on the rugged floor, setting everything from her books to her index cards, to random leaflets of paper that had notes scrawled on them on the surface of the coffee table. Though she could hear the murmur of the music, it wasn’t as distracting, and soon she slipped into her focus quite easily. In fact, time flew away faster than she realized. Just as she finished up her last section, a few waitresses bustled into the room, adding fresh sandwiches on the table. Holly watched with curiosity, her brows raised. At that moment, her stomach rumbled. She glanced down at it, almost in surprise. She hadn’t even realized that she was hungry. Her thoughts hadn’t been on food, but … And now they each had three boxes of pizza that they placed so conveniently next to the sandwiches. She wondered if she would get in trouble if she snagged a couple of slices. The salad had obviously been thoroughly digested, and to sustain herself after studying so hard, she needed energy.
“Still studying, I see,” a low, familiar drawl stated, pulling her out of her thoughts of food.
Tom, the singer, had walked into the room with a rather large entourage including other members of the band and an assortment of scantily dressed women, some younger than Holly and some older. A lot older. Tom was now dressed in a sweaty white wife beater and loose, but fitted jeans, and he still had on his combat boots. Holly liked him much better this way; he looked much more down to earth, anyway. She blinked when his words suddenly sunk in.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she told him, and quickly began grabbing papers and hastily putting them away. “I really want to thank you … err, Tom? Yes, Tom.” She nodded once, telling herself that yes, that was his name. “I got pretty much everything I needed to do done—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Tom said, taking a seat on the couch so he was next to her. One of the waitresses handed him a damp towel, and he began drying his sweat off. Holly wondered how long it had been. It hadn’t really felt that long, at least not for her. “No need to head off so quickly. I wanted to ask you, what final are you studying for?”
Holly had no idea why he had taken such an interest in her. She stole a glance up at the women who had followed him in there, and to some extent, they were all giving her a look of contempt. She turned away, her cheeks flushed. There was no need to get upset with her; it wasn’t like she had asked for his attention. “Um …” she began, stuffing her books into her bag. “Psychology. I have to pass it to get started on my hours.”
“So you wanna be a psychologist, huh?” Tom asked, leaning back and draping the towel on the arm of the couch. “You know, I need one of those on tour. Or, apparently, my manager thinks I do. I guess technically since this was the kick-off for the tour, I should have one, but I don’t. Hmm.” His hand was cupping his cheek. “Hey!” he said, an idea suddenly jumping into his mind. His dark eyes brightened. “Why don’t you become my psychologist or whatever? I mean, you need to do your hours, right?”
“I think your manager meant for you to get a licensed psychologist,” murmured Holly, trying to tear her eyes away from the food, but not quite able to do so. “And plus, I want to be a marriage psychologist, not a … rock star psychologist. And you don’t even know me.” She finally looked up at him, and he was giving her an odd sort of stare.
“Right, but I like you,” he told her simply.
“I don’t understand,” Holly replied, shaking her head slightly. “I mean, personally I can’t really understand that. But from a psychological standpoint, I guess I do.”
“So it’s done!” he said, clapping his hands together. “When’s this final of yours anyway? I’m guessing tomorrow, right? Well, when you get out of it, meet us here, and we’ll go on our merry way. You should probably pack an assortment of clothes and whatnot …” He let his voice trail off as he began to think more of the subject silently.
“Listen, you don’t even know my name,” Holly told him, trying to hide her frustration. She always got cranky if she hadn’t eaten in a while, and the food smelled so good. She didn’t even care if she overate; she just needed sustenance. “And furthermore, I don’t think counseling you for a thousand hours is going to count. They want me to go to an actual practice and have different clients—”
“Who’s your teacher?” he asked her, cutting her off.
“What?” Holly asked, somewhat confused.
“Teacher, professor … whatever,” Tom said, shrugging. “Who’s in charge? And where do you go to school? I probably should’ve asked that first … Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Just tell me, and I’ll go in and talk to them myself.”
“But I don’t even know you!” Holly exclaimed. “You don’t even know me! I mean, why?”
“You know, some things you don’t need to understand,” Tom chided her. “Just go with the flow, my friend. But here’s the low-down on me. My name is Tom Nye. I’ve been with The Futurists since … since I was twenty. I am thirty-nine years of age. I’ve never been married, don’t have any kids, nothing like that. And my favorite color is midnight blue. There. Now you know me. So? Where do you—”
“What?” Holly asked, throwing her arms out in exasperation. “I don’t know you. Just because I know things about you doesn’t mean I know you.”
“Listen, the band’s due in San Diego tomorrow night,” he told her. “If you’re so adamant about not coming with us, that’s fine. But wouldn’t it be fun? I think it’d be fun. And you know, maybe you’re right; maybe your professor won’t let you do this, but why not try? I say I’m offering you an excellent opportunity. And if you agree, and it all works out, I’ll let your friend come along, too. We’re traveling all summer around the United States. I think that gives us enough time, hmm?” He flashed her what she was beginning to dub as his charm smile.
“Where is Tanya?” Holly asked softly, glancing around the room.
“Last time I saw her, she was groping Mitch,” he said, following Holly’s glance around the room. “Although, I highly doubt that Mitch minded. He does like petite
girls, especially hot ones. I’m sure she’d love you for it …”
Holly wanted to retort that he didn’t know Tanya, except Tanya would probably love her for the rest of time, and even longer. And Professor O’Sullivan probably wouldn’t let her go anyway, so even if she agreed, it wouldn’t matter.
“Fine,” she told him with a roll of her eyes. He smirked in triumph. “I go to UCLA, okay? I have a final at eight in the morning. My professor is Wendy O’Sullivan. Is there anything else you need to know?”
“Nothing at all,” he replied smoothly.
Holly nodded and stood up, slinging her bag over her shoulder and heading for the food table. A couple of slices of pizza for the road, she decided.
Chapter 4
Okay, first thing’s first … Shower!
Holly slipped out of bed, feeling quite refreshed; she wasn’t overly tired. She strode to the bathroom with confidence. The only thing on her mind was her studies. She began to remind herself of the definitions of vocabulary words and what psychologist did what, as she stepped into the shower. The young woman was so focused that she didn’t really feel the water, nor did she realize that she was going through the motions of what she normally did when she showered; she washed and conditioned her hair, and cleaned her body.
When she finished, she threw on an old pair of jeans and her favorite shirt; it was one of the old Ace Ventura promotional T-shirts she had won when she was younger. After slipping on her flip flops, she headed into the kitchen and poured herself a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios. As she sat on the couch, her eyes flitted over to the door and cocked a brow. Before Holly and Tanya had officially moved in together, they had come up with certain rules. One of those rules was, if one brought home a member of the opposite sex and did not wish to be disturbed, she would hang an article of clothing on the doorknob. Currently, Tanya’s door was firmly shut with a bra dangling from the knob.
Subtle.
Holly pressed her lips together in order to hide a smirk, but the edges of her lips curled up, and she rolled her eyes. Holly had yet to actually engage in that rule, but Tanya had done so enough for the two of them. Not to say Tanya was a slut or anything; she was just very comfortable with her sexuality. For an idle moment, Holly wondered who it was, and then assumed he had to have been from the concert last night. Again, Holly rolled her eyes and finished up her cereal before placing the bowl in the sink and heading into the bathroom to brush her teeth. Once everything was finished, she grabbed her bag, and after triple-checking to make sure everything that she would need for her exam was in there, she left.
Luckily for Holly, the dorms were relatively close to her class, and she took a seat with fifteen minutes to spare. A few other students were racking their brain with flash cards surrounding the surface of their desks, and Holly soon joined them. Professor O’Sullivan was sitting at her desk, typing furiously away on the keyboard. She had curly blonde hair that was pulled into a ponytail and bright, blue eyes. She was short and round, but she always reminded Holly of a genuine, optimistic high school cheerleader.
Time flew by quickly for the young woman, and before Holly knew it, she had a scantron in front of her, a number two pencil in her left hand, and an exam on the corner of her desk. Before opening the packet, she chewed her bottom lip and tried to center herself with deep breathing. Yes, she was nervous, and she didn’t want to freak herself out. You can do this! You can do this! You can do this!
Holly was about three-quarters through her test when the classroom door was thrown open. It’s probably a janitor or a repair guy or something, Holly figured, so she kept her focus on her exam. Up until the point the guest actually spoke.
“Is a Holly Dunn in here?”
There was no way.
“And who, may I ask is …” Professor O’Sullivan’s voice trailed off and her blue eyes went wide. She placed her hands over her mouth, but it was obvious she was excited. “Oh my God, are you Tommy Nye from The Futurists?”
Holly turned to glance behind her warily, but her prayers went unanswered. Tommy Nye really was standing in the doorway of her classroom, his dark, messy hair scattered across his face and black aviators on his face. This could not be possible. She did not need this right now.
However, Tommy glanced around the room as he answered, “Why yes, yes I am,” with that charming smile of his. His eyes seemed to have found Holly and his smile deepened. “Ah! Holly, there you are. I’ve been meaning to talk to you.” He began to head toward her and Holly felt herself blush. How was she supposed to concentrate when his presence was so distracting?
“Mister Nye?” O’Sullivan said, a bit more serious, though her excited smile was still on her face. “Is there something you need? My students are trying to take an exam, you see, and it’s very important.”
“Right, right, right,” Tommy replied, halting in his tracks and turning to face the professor. “You know, I think I’m supposed to be talking to you anyway. Can we go somewhere private?”
“Of course,” she replied, and then looked at her students. “While I assist Mister Nye outside, I am trusting you all not to cheat. If I find that you actually partake in such a juvenile activity, I can assure you that you can say good-bye to any option of becoming a psychologist.” With that said, she smiled brightly at Tommy and led him outside.
A couple of students murmured to themselves, and though Holly’s eyes were focused primarily on her paper, she could feel the burning stares of the majority of her classmates. Focus, Holl. Come on. After another five minutes, she regained her attention and began filling out the rest of her scantron. In fact, she was so enthralled in her test that she didn’t notice O’Sullivan’s re-entrance in the room until she turned in her test.
“Professor?” Holly began in a whisper. “I just wanted to thank you for this class. It has been incredibly informative. I had fun.” She paused and swallowed when Professor O’Sullivan looked up at her with a cool stare and a knowing but demure smile. “Um, also, I just wanted to apologize for the interruption. I had no idea he was actually going to show up. So—”
“Give me your test,” she said, reaching out her arm. Holly perked her brow, obviously surprised, but did as she was told. “I’m going to grade it right now.” Holly’s mouth dropped, but her professor already had a Sharpie in her hand and an answer key adjacent to her test. It was rather awkward for Holly to be standing in front of more than half of her class. Hadn’t she been humiliated enough? After five minutes, give or take, Wendy clicked the marker and glanced up at Holly. In a hushed tone, she said, “Congratulations, Holly. You did as I expected; you passed.” She handed Holly back her scantron, which had a fat, green A on it. “I don’t know how you know Tommy Nye and I kind of don’t want to know, but he wanted to know if you could spend your thousand hours with him and his band as they tour.” She paused, and though Holly felt she should speak, she just couldn’t formulate the words. “I told him it was highly improbable. The reason we want you students to do a thousand hours at a practice is so you get guidance, as well as a variety of different clients. However, he assured me that a licensed psychologist would be on hand who would be signing your hour sheet, and your primary focus wouldn’t be solely on Nye. With his guarantee and some free concert tickets, I agreed, but only if you gave your consent.” She paused, looking at her pupil seriously. “Would you like to try this?”
Holly stood silent for a very long moment. “What do you think?” she asked, unsure of where to go from there.
“I think if you’re up for it, it would give you good experience, Holl,” O’Sullivan replied. “It’s not every day that rock stars seek out help, especially from a grad student. Opportunities like this are incredibly rare. I would take it if I was in your position.”
Again, Holly thought seriously about it. She didn’t like the fact that she would probably be alone with a bunch of strangers she didn’t know. “Okay,” she said finally. “I’ll do it.”
“Good job,” her professor told her, and smiled
encouragingly. “Good job, Holly. I’m proud of you.”
Holly smiled in return, and turned, walking out of the classroom. Surprisingly, she found Tommy, Tanya, and Mitch waiting on a park bench nearby. When Tanya saw her, she dashed over to her friend and pulled Holly into a tight hug.
“So?” Tanya asked. “How’d you do?”
“What are you doing here?” Holly asked her friend. “I thought you were …” Upon seeing both men’s heads turn toward the two of them, she lowered her voice. “… indisposed.”
“Well, I was,” Tanya said with that mischievous smirk of hers, “but then Mitch got a call from Tommy about wanting to talk to you about going on tour with him as his personal psychologist and Mitch invited me to come. You have a lot to tell me, missy, but first and foremost, tell me that you accepted!”
Holly gave her friend a look, and then glanced over at Tommy who was staring at her with as much intensity as he was listening. His arms were crossed casually over his chest, and though his demeanor was lax, he seemed intent on hearing Holly’s answer just as much as Tanya was. Holly swallowed and looked back at Tanya.
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