Page 142 of Lovers Like Us
Oscar ties a bandana around his forehead. “Goodbye to Donnelly’s drunken SnapChat dickpics.”
Donnelly leans against the headboard. “Those were sober,man.”
Farrow chews his gum into asmile.
Beckettlaughs.
Thatcher shakes his head, but he stopped saying things likeyour client is in the roomandthat’s inappropriatethe third week on tour. The fact that they’re even having a security meeting in front of me and my cousins and not privately in a bathroom—that meanssomething.
“You’re not here to promote yourself,” Akara reminds them, “or Donnelly’sdick.”
Donnelly nods heartily. “What about Twitter? I need to keep up withfandoms.”
“Need or want?” Thatcherasks.
“Both.” He digs in his pocket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. “I need it and I wantit.”
“Youneedto delete it,” Thatcher says. “You’re here to protect your client. If you need Twitter for security reasons, we’ll have anonymous security accounts made. But if we see you searching for television shows or porn, you’ll lose passwordaccess.”
Beckett tosses Donnelly a lighter. “You can use myTwitter.”
“Thanks, man.” Donnelly puts the cigarette between hislips.
“Second,” Thatcher says, “don’t reach out to tabloids. Don’t accept any interviews, not even to defendyourself.”
That’ll be easy for Farrow. I can’t see him volunteering for a Q&A withCelebrityCrush.
“And lastly,” Akara tells SFO, “don’t sleep with fans. Let’s maintain a level of professionalism. While we’re under this spotlight, we’re representing the Hales, Meadows, and Cobalts. Do themproud.”
To me, they alreadyhave.
The official meeting ends, and bodies move around. Trying to stretch, go to the bathroom. We’re not just lacking sleep. We have no extra clothes, no luggage or toiletries. Things that’d make my cousins and little sister feel better and more comfortable after 24-hours holed uphere.
I could be completely fine with little to nothing for a lot longer. But I’m aware not everyone isme.
Janie searches her sequined purse where she had a sleepmask.
“De quoi as-tu besoin?” I ask.What do youneed?
“I wish I wore pajamas.” She unbuttons her pastel pants and sighs in relief. “Tellement mieux.”Muchbetter.
Oscar stacks mini-bottles of liquor on the desk, and Thatcher talks to Akara about being in contact with groundsecurity.
I turn to Farrow. “Four hours longerhere?”
“Looks like six more.” He chews his gum and observes the street with me. It’s more congested than five minutesago.
Security wanted us all in one room together just in case a doomsday happened and paparazzi or fans found their way inside thehotel.
I crack my knuckles. “There has to be vending down the hall. I can get some drinks…” I trail off at a loudknock.
We allquiet.
Thatcher is closest. He peers in the peephole, then unlocks and opens the door to a dazzling smile, jock-build, a duffel strapped across a broad chest, and a pastry box inhand.
“Beautiful people,” Jack Highland greets as he enters. “Twenty-minute shopping spree and a five-mile walk later, I’ve madeit.”
Finally.
