Page 12 of Not Another Rockstar
“Phoebe passed out before I got back from the signing, so I figured it was best to let her sleep,” Axel said, leaving out how Cillian had accused them of sleeping together. “Cillian picked her up about forty minutes ago to bring her back to the hotel.”
“Are you kidding?” Nick stood up so fast he knocked over his can.
“Why are you so surprised? Cillian said you sent him?”
From Nick’s flaring nostrils, Cillian had lied to them.
“No, I didn’t. I wouldn’t have let him anywhere near my sister. I locked him in his dressing room to sober up, but when I let him out this morning, he was still drinking his sorrows. He shouldn’t be anywhere near a car!” Nick chucked his empty can in the sink.
August stopped playing and listened in, his brows pulled tight with concern.
“He stank of drink, but I thought it was because he was wearing the same clothes as last night.”
Axel wished he hadn’t hesitated in going after them, but he’d told himself what happened between them wasn’t his business. Who was he to interfere when her own brother refused to get involved? Still, he never would’ve let Cillian drink and drive.
“There is no way he would put her at risk by driving drunk,” August mumbled, taking a bite of the breakfast burrito that was meant to be Phoebe’s. Axel had brought them the breakfast since he didn’t want it to go to waste, and he didn’t have an appetite after the earlier confrontation.
Nick pressed his phone to his ear. “Phoebe’s phone is going straight to voicemail,” he snapped.
“Let’s not panic. She’s probably back at the hotel and doesn’t want to speak to anyone,” Axel reasoned. “And Cillian is probably pleading outside her room.”
“Neither of them will answer.” Nick dropped his phone on the table. “We should go by her hotel; I know where she’s staying. It’s not far.”
Axel nodded. “I can drive over there and see if everything is okay. They might’ve pulled over somewhere to talk.”
With the mood Nick was in, Axel didn’t want him anywhere near Cillian or the hotel in case he made a scene. The situation was hard enough for Phoebe already, and he didn’t want them to make it worse.
“No, I should go,” Nick argued. “I should’ve stepped in last night. I never thought he’d be stupid enough to get behind the wheel. What the hell was he thinking?”
“No, stay here in case they come back. She’ll need you here. I’ll go to the hotel and call you if I find her. I’m sure they’re fine,” Axel said, forcing himself to remain calm.
Nick’s hard stare told him he wasn’t buying it. “Fine, but I’m going to keep calling.”
“August, can you hold down the fort?” Axel said, not able to meet Nick’s eye. “Make sure Anita doesn’t find out about this. I’ll bring them both back.”
“Great, I love running interference. She’ll probably make me do an interview.” August sighed, but his white-knuckled grip on his guitar revealed his concern. Nick placed a hand on his shoulder as though steadying himself.
Axel left Nick pacing on the phone while August headed off in search of Anita. Back in his own tour bus, he grabbed the keys to his rented car, only to trip over something on his way out.
“You aren’t mine,” he said with a frown, picking up a purple notebook imprinted with butterflies. “Phoebe must’ve left you behind.” He shoved it into the back of his jeans, figuring it was best to bring it with him.
Not wasting another moment, he put the address for the hotel into his phone and drove out of the lot. It wasn’t longbefore he reached the hotel, and he tried Cillian a few more times as he parked. Still no answer as he walked up the steps to the revolving door. Hopefully Cillian was just ignoring his calls because he was upset about Phoebe staying in his tour bus. But he feared the worst.
Inside the busy hotel lobby, Axel hoped his charm would get him the information he needed. By the marble front desk, he lingered on the edge of the queue, hoping to be spotted. Usually, he never used his fame to get favours, but this was an emergency. Once he saw Phoebe, the elephant sitting on his chest would get off.
One of the younger receptionist’s eyes widened as she spotted him, and she promptly waved him over to another counter. He tried to conceal his relief while ignoring the displeased looks from those waiting ahead of him.
“Thank you for seeing me so quickly.” Axel gave her his best smile.
“It’s my pleasure, what can I do for you?” the receptionist asked, fidgeting with her manicured nails.
“I was wondering if you could give me the room number for a guest, Phoebe Fletcher? She checked in yesterday.” He tapped on the counter impatiently, ignoring the growing whispers behind him. He hoped no one asked him for an autograph or a photo—he didn’t have time, and he didn’t need to feel like a prick on top of everything else.
“I’m sorry, sir, but we don’t give out that information,” the receptionist said quietly.
“I wouldn’t want you to get into trouble, but could I call up to her room? She isn’t answering her phone, and I want to make sure she made it back from the concert okay,” he said, careful not to reveal his frustration.
“I heard it was a great show—my roommates got to go. I had to work, but I guess I got the better deal.” She beamed as she picked up the phone.
