Vintage Volume One (19 page)

thirty-four

Parker’s room was one floor down from mine. After I’d hurriedly gathered my belongings, he ushered me quickly down to his room. He bolted the door behind us and latched the swing lock. 

“What’s going on?” I asked as I stepped into his room. He set my suitcase on the dresser. I glanced around the room. It was smaller than mine, presumably not a suite, but it was still extravagant.

“I don’t know.” He nervously checked his phone when it started ringing in his hand. His nerves were fucking with my ability to remain calm.

“The curtains were open. She closed them before we left,” he answered. His voice was stiff.

He handed me the phone. “It’s your dad.”

I sighed. “Hi.”

“You okay, CC?” he asked softly.

“No, Dad. I’m not fucking okay. I’m freaked out. You two aren’t telling me anything but lies.”

“This is on a need to know basis.”

“I’d say we’re at the needing to know step right about now.”

I heard him sigh audibly over the phone. “Look, I’m just glad you’re here with us instead of home alone. I know you’re mad, and I know you want answers, but I can’t give them. Okay? Just try to relax. Stay with PJ. He will keep you safe.”

“Fine. But for the record, I hate you both.”

“I know. And I love you.”

I hung up and threw Parker’s phone at him. In a swift move that managed to irritate me for some reason, he caught it gracefully.

He watched me silently. Carefully.

A thought flashed through my mind, but it couldn’t be.

I considered calling my dad back to see where his deceitful wife was, but I decided to keep my thoughts to myself for the time being. I was mad at my dad. I didn’t want to talk to Parker. I didn’t trust Jadyn. I had the sneaking suspicion she might have been the one who broke into my room. The question was why she would do that.

“Did Rebecca book this room?” I asked.

Parker nodded.

“Awesome.” I opened the minibar and helped myself to a tiny bottle of Absolut. There were two more lined up behind it, so I took those out, too. If I was spending the night in Parker’s hotel room, scared out of my mind that someone had rifled through my shit while I was out of my room, I was going to spend the time drunk… and apparently on my father’s dime.

“Pass me that Jameson shit,” Parker said. I handed him the three mini bottles of whiskey.

I twisted off the cap of the Absolut and took my first shot of the night. Those tiny bottles actually held about five milliliters more than a shot, but they were close enough.

I watched as Parker twisted off his cap, too. He offered his up toward me for a toast, but I rolled my eyes at him. This wasn’t meant to be fun. I was stuck in a room with someone who I didn’t want to even be around. I was too angry to consider making the best of things.

I twisted off the cap of the second bottle and drank it down in one big gulp.

I started twisting the cap off of the third, but Parker stopped me, grabbing the bottle from my hand. “Slow down, babe.”

“Fuck off,” I said, reaching for the precious liquid he’d taken from me.

He held me off. “Five minutes. Let the first two hit your system.”

I huffed angrily and headed over to the bed, throwing myself down on it with a loud moan of frustration. I heard Parker chuckle.

I sat up in bed and faced him with a glare of fury. “This isn’t funny, Parker. I’m scared. I’m mad. I’m frustrated. I’m pissed that I have to be locked in here with you. Nothing about this is funny, so stop your goddamn laughing.”

I watched as he twisted the cap off his second bottle of whiskey and drank it down. He grimaced after he swallowed, and then he sucked in some air between his teeth.

“This isn’t ideal for me, either.”

“Bullshit. You love that I’m stuck here with you.”

He moved across the room gracefully, stopping right in front of me. He stared down at me, sadness swimming in his dark eyes. His voice was tender when he spoke. “I wish you wanted to be here with me as much as I want you here. I love that you’re here in my bed, but I wish it was on your own accord. I wish you were safe. I wish I didn’t have to protect you. I wish your dad never would’ve asked me to do this. I never had regrets in life until the day you were hurt because of me.”

He tossed the last bottle of vodka to me. “Do what you want.” It landed with a thud next to my thigh as he turned and headed toward the small loveseat. He faced the window, his back to me as he stared out over New York City, and I sat in bed processing his words.

I picked up the bottle and stared at it. I wanted to suck it back, but I probably needed at least a few of my wits about me.

Because being locked in a room with Parker James was hard enough. If I was locked in a room with Parker James and I was drunk, who knew what sort of trouble I’d get myself into.

I glanced over at him. He was brooding as he stared out the window. He was probably feeling all of the same things I was, just in different ways.

He was scared. He was manly enough that he’d never admit that to me, but I saw the fear that flashed in his eyes when I’d felt that strange presence outside. The question was whether he was scared because someone was seemingly out to get me or whether he was scared that he’d lose his job and my dad’s respect if he let anything happen to me.

I had to believe that he cared about me. The sincerity in his voice had been genuine when he told me that he’d fallen in love with me. I didn’t doubt for a second that he loved me, because I felt it, too.

But I wasn’t sure love was enough. Too many lies had been told. Too much of the truth had been left out.

Even now he was hiding things from me. He and my dad still had their secrets, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever find out the whole truth.

The other predominant emotion I felt was frustration, and I saw the same emotion written all over Parker. He was frustrated with himself for hurting me. He was frustrated with me because I was so stubborn. And he had to be frustrated that he was stuck in a hotel room with me while his band was out sightseeing New York City without him. Touring with Black Shadow was a huge break for them, and he was missing out on the rewards that came with that.

For whatever reason—whether it was because he was on my dad’s payroll or because he truly cared about me—he sat in a hotel room watching over me, making sure I was safe.

I glanced back at the bottle of vodka in my hand. What was the worst that could happen? We were locked in a room together.

Ultimately I decided to take my chances.

I twisted off the cap and threw back the vodka. The liquid burned its way down my chest. I felt it settle in my belly, warming me.

The first two were starting to hit me, and the familiar muddying sensation of tipsiness started to wash over me, obscuring rational thought. I felt lighter, some of the heaviness of the past day disintegrating.

I stood up from the bed. I opened my suitcase and grabbed a pair of shorts and a tank top to sleep in, and then I went to the bathroom to change. It was early to go to sleep, but it looked like I was locked in for the night. I figured I might as well get comfortable. I stripped out of my jeans and t-shirt and glanced at the back of the door. A fluffy bathrobe hung on the back of the door, just as it had in my room. I didn’t want to tempt Parker, but all I wanted was the comfort of that fluffy bathrobe. I opted for pulling it on over my nightclothes. I emerged from the bathroom and set my clothes from the day on top of my suitcase. I felt Parker’s eyes on me as I walked over to the minibar, pulling out the rum. Three shots of vodka wouldn’t kill me. Rum on top of vodka wouldn’t kill me, either.

“What’re you doing?” Parker asked, watching me pull out three tiny bottles.

“Getting drunk. Why the fuck don’t they stock these things with whole bottles?”

“You sure it’s a good idea to mix vodka and rum?”

“You sure you want to ask me that?”

He shrugged.

I couldn’t help my smile. “I see I’m starting to rub off on you.”

He unscrewed the cap to the third bottle of whiskey. “You can rub off on me anytime,” he muttered, and then he tossed back the liquid. “This tastes pretty good after the first two.” I glanced up and saw him inspecting the bottle. He tossed it on the table beside him. “Good call on the full bottles. I think you might be onto something.”

“Especially when money is no object. Let’s order room service and charge it to dear old Dad. Vodka for me, whiskey for you.”

He gazed sideways at me. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?” I challenged.

He stood and walked over toward me. The alcohol had helped dissipate some of the tension that crackled between us.

He took my chin in his fingertips, forcing me to meet his gaze. It was warm. It was sincere.

And it was worried.

“Because, Jimi. Someone got past every precaution your dad and I put in place and somehow got into your room while we were out. I’m not taking any chances.”

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to my forehead, and then he dropped my chin, took one of the small bottles of rum out of my hands, and turned back toward the window, reclaiming his spot on the loveseat.

But in the simple gesture of the split second when his lips touched my forehead, I forgot about the betrayal and the hurt. All I could focus on was how good Parker felt and how right my world turned when any part of him pressed to my skin.

As much as I hated everything about him, I was undeniably, irreversibly, absolutely in love with him. That was the moment when I finally admitted it to myself.

But that didn’t mean that I could just forgive and forget. The stubborn streak that my dad loved to brag he had given me was too powerful.

I watched as he opened the cap and drank down the rum. He moved with an air of melancholy, and I knew that the sadness he felt was because of me.

I wished I could take it away.

I knew I could take it away. I knew exactly what I needed to do to see this man smile again.

And all it took was one more shot from one of those goddamn tiny bottles of liquor to force logic from my brain and give into the lust that was always simmering beneath the surface when we were in a room together.

After his first hit of rum, Parker stood and took one more bottle out of the minibar. Tanqueray.

The only thing I knew about Tanqueray was that it was in that Snoop Dogg song, “Gin and Juice.” I assumed it was the gin to which he referred.

Apparently a shot of Tanqueray on top of three shots of whiskey and a shot of rum was a bad idea.

Or maybe it was a good idea.

It’s all a little fuzzy.

I only put down one of the bottles of rum on top of my vodka. Sleepiness started kicking in, so I tossed the bathrobe on the floor and lay down on the bed. I was too lazy to pull the blankets over myself.

“Goodnight, Jimi,” Parker said softly from across the room.

I didn’t respond.

I turned over and looked at him. He was trying to get comfortable on the loveseat, but his body was too tall to find any possible comfortable position. He flipped over, sighed in frustration, and finally sat up, resting his head on the couch and narrowing his gaze back out the window.

It was painful to watch him, even more so because it was my fault he was uncomfortable. He didn’t have to invite me into his room. He didn’t have to give me his bed. I finally spoke up after a few minutes. “It’s fine if you want to sleep in the bed.”

His eyes moved from the window to me in surprise.

“I am crashing in your room, after all.”

“I’ll only ask this one time. Are you sure?”

I nodded. “It’s fine.”

I heard the slur in my own voice, but I ignored it.

He stood and closed the curtains. I turned away from him, refusing to look at him as he stripped out of his shirt and his jeans, turned out the light, and got into bed beside me.

I was suddenly wide awake knowing that Parker James was in bed next to me.

Every decision I made in that bed beside him would be fogged with alcohol. My first decision was whether or not I should speak what was in my heart.

But he spoke first.

“I’m so fucking sorry, Jimi.” His voice was hoarse, quiet, and sincere.

No one likes a sad drunk, but his words of apology turned me into exactly that.

I no longer had control over myself as the emotions mixed with the rum on top of the vodka and a loud sob emitted from somewhere deep within me.

It wasn’t the betrayal. It wasn’t even the hurt from the lies.

It was the loss of Parker.

I could no longer take the pain of being apart from him, of fighting every instinct I had when I really just wanted to be with him, to feel him next to me, on top of me, inside of me. I craved him.

He turned in my direction when he heard me crying, and I felt his arm slip around me as the front of his body aligned to the back of mine.

A perfect fit.