Page 8 of Rulebreaker (Gamebreakers #4)
EIGHT
Lily
On the road again.
I could hum the notes to a song with that title but I’m too tired.
Bad weather, traffic, and an upset stomach from too much rich food put me behind and now I’m trying to play catchup. On texts with my friends. On the shows I like to watch to relax. On freakin’ everything.
Days like today, I feel like I’m pulled in too many directions. Like too many people want a piece of me and I’m running out of pieces to give.
My phone buzzes in my purse as I get to my hotel room, but I ignore it, throwing on the lights and sighing with relief that my luggage is already here.
I’m spoiled, no doubt, but I work hard, so it’s the little things–like luggage service and private jets–that allow me to do what I do at the level in which I do it.
Flipping the light switch, I make a beeline for the bathroom .
Either I ate too much at Aspen’s shower or I’ve caught a stomach bug, and neither one of those choices make me happy.
Luckily, I feel better when I’m done, so I wash my hands and throw my hair up in a ponytail.
I stare in the mirror for a second and wrinkle my nose.
I don’t like my current dark hair. I really am a natural blond and over the years I’ve dyed it almost every color under the sun, from strawberry blond to fiery red to emerald green.
Black was a rash and, in my opinion, unpopular choice.
But it’s too soon to change it again without risking damage to my hair.
It’s not too soon for a hot pink streak, though. Or blue?
I quickly type out a message to my hair stylist, who flies out any time I need her to do touchups or make changes, and then step back into the hotel room.
And freeze.
A lot more than my luggage arrived ahead of me.
There are roses.
A lot of fucking roses.
A dozen dozens.
Atlas .
I smile in spite of my resolve to stop thinking about him.
He’s ridiculous.
In a sexy, bossy, alpha way that makes my nether regions tingle.
And damn Jade for giving him my itinerary.
My feet propel me toward the flowers, though, and I finger the pink bunch first. Then the red. The white. The yellow. And platinum roses. Did she also tell him those are my favorite? Because that’s the bunch that has the card.
I pluck it from the little holder and open the envelope .
Lily–
Did you know there’s such a thing as airplanes? Some of us even have private jets with bedrooms. It makes cross-country travel so much easier when people want to make time for each other.
Atlas
P.S. There are also these cool things called phones, used for long-distance communication. 213-555-1967.
I can’t help but laugh.
He’s something.
Which is why I absolutely, positively cannot, under any circumstances, text him back.
I do take a picture of the flowers, though, and text it to my friend Sandy, who responds immediately.
SANDY: New fan, big award, or a special man?
LILY: A man that doesn’t seem to want to take no for an answer. But not in a creepy way. He’s lovely. It’s just, you know me and relationships.
SANDY: I know you need to get out of the mess you’ve created with Stan and find a man to love you.
LILY: Men don’t love me–they worship me, and that’s not real.
SANDY: Stop it. You think Brody doesn’t love me? You think my life isn’t a thousand times better since I met him?
LILY: Oh, I know he does. And I’m sure it is–but I’m not you. I love my life.
SANDY: You can still have your life and a man who loves you.
LILY: Okay, why are we talking about love? It was sex. Really, really, REALLY good sex, but sex. There’s no marriage proposal within the roses. Just his phone number.
SANDY: And you’re not going to call or text.
LILY: Nope.
SANDY: Do I know him?
LILY: I’m sure you know of him. Atlas Delarosa.
My phone rings and I laugh as I answer. “Yeah, yeah, I know.”
“Girlfriend! That man is an enigma–how on earth did you hook up with him?”
“You know Royal? They went to college together. He’s part of Royal’s extended family.”
“Wowza. And you hooked up?”
“Not just any hookup–he inducted me into the Mile High Club.”
She laughs. “That’s pretty cool. About time. Brody and I did that on our honeymoon.”
I hear a baby crying in the background.
“And now you have a house full of rugrats.”
“The two cutest, sweetest rugrats in the whole world, thank you very much.”
“Do you have to go?” I ask, since the baby’s still crying .
“That’s what nannies are for, my friend. And husbands. I can still talk on the phone or go to lunch or spend a couple of hours in my home studio. It was my choice to stay home for a while when the last tour ended. No one made me, and I’m happier than I’ve ever been.”
“Don’t you miss it?” I ask suddenly, my voice quiet.
She knows what I’m asking about.
“Of course. But it’s not forever. I’ve been writing songs with Brody. My record label has been amazing, waiting for me to get to a place where I’m okay leaving the kids. Lots of people do it.”
“And lots of people never get back to where they were before they took time off.”
“Well, I’m not the biggest pop star in the world, but I did pretty well for myself. I’m not worried about money or stardom. What I have is special. There’s a kind of relief to not chasing the next hit, the next tour, the next award. I can just be. You know?”
No, I don’t know.
Because that’s not who I am.
I will always strive for the next rung on the ladder of success.
“How much money do you need, Lily?” she asks after an awkward beat of silence. “How many number one hits? Or world tours? Or awards will it take to fulfill whatever it is that’s empty inside of you?”
Oh, wow.
That’s deeper than I was expecting from a casual chat with a good friend I don’t see very often. I wanted to talk about Atlas’s dick–not my barren emotional well.
“I’m sorry,” she says when I don’t respond right away. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, but someone has to say it. ”
“You’re the only one who knows everything,” I say finally. “I haven’t even told Jade.”
“Maybe because you know it’s time for a change. Time to move on from the past and look toward a future. Imagine being married to Atlas Delarosa.”
Now I laugh. “Okay, hold your horses there, cowgirl.” Sandy lives on a horse ranch in Kentucky. “No one’s talking about marriage. I was thinking more letting him tie me up and spank me, not dragging me down the aisle.”
“Obviously, I don’t know the man, and if he’s not husband material, that’s fine.
But someone has to be. Sometime. Don’t they?
Don’t you want a baby? And don’t get all freaked out about your career.
You’re still in your twenties, you have time.
But someday? A baby. A man to curl up next to at night.
Someone cheering you on when you’re on top and letting you cry in his arms when you’re not? ”
“Is, uh, is that what Brody does for you?”
“That and so much more.” She sighs.
And it’s the sigh of a truly and completely happy woman. It’s the same sigh I hear from Jade these days.
A feeling I’ve never experienced outside of the professional realm.
Happiness.
Contentment.
What does that even feel like?
“I have to go,” I say gently. “But thank you for giving me something to think about. I always trust your wisdom–and counsel.”
“Are you actually going to think about it, or are you just getting me off the phone?”
“Both. I’m tired and it’s late. So it may not be tonight, but I do plan to think about what to do next. About a lot of things.”
“Good. ”
“One more question.”
“Shoot.”
“Hot pink or aqua blue streak in my hair?”
She laughs. “Hot pink, girlfriend. That’s who you are.”
I disconnect and stare at my reflection in the mirror across the room.
Black hair with a hot pink streak?
Is that who I am?
What happened to the dishwater blonde with two crooked front teeth who used to cut her own hair and wear her mama’s old, cakey blue eye shadow?
Does Elizabeth Rae Hooker even exist beneath the facade of pop star Lily Maxwell? Changing my name was a must when I started performing, but sometimes I wonder if there’s anything left of her.
The old me.
The me with hopes and dreams and hope.
The me who still believed in love.