NATE.

Why the h.e.l.l did Riley have to come tonight? I'm attempting to unwind here, the stress of the last few gigs has me wound up more than usual, and her appearance isn't helping. We're almost at the end of the tour and I'm over the screw ups. Last night was the worst. I almost walked off stage because whoever set up my kit f.u.c.ked up and the sound was screwed. In the end, I refused to do the encore, which led to a huge blow up with the band. Tough. I'm not playing if I sound like s.h.i.t.

Ruby's distracted because her snotty kid's here and Jax is hanging out to go home to his wife, Tegan. Wife. Jesus, the man is insane.

Look at how far Ruby Riot has come, but I think they all forget how quickly we could lose this.

The latest in a long line of uptight PR girls, Sarah left the tour two days ago and the disorganisation b.u.g.g.e.red things up further. I'm unhappy Riley's here, but she's already managed to pull people into line and sort out s.h.i.t.

Riley's on the fringes, as she always was in Europe. On that tour, she and Tegan were friendly, but she rubbed everybody else up the wrong way. Then the weird c.r.a.p happened between us. I didn't expect the animosity to grow as big as it did though. Usually people back off when I'm being a jerk, but she wouldn't back down any time we crossed paths.

Which meant I went from being a jerk to an complete a.s.shole every time she dug further under my skin. If Riley doesn't stay away this will happen again I head back to the hotel room with Sophia, who drank too much champagne, as usual. She didn't eat enough either, and after just a couple of gla.s.ses, she's giggly and touchy-feely. The beer and meal swilling around my system push in apathy. I'm too tired for anything tonight; I want to sleep. Sophia's behaviour quiets on the trip from the elevator to the suite; hopefully she's knackered too.

I throw my keys and phone on the table when we walk in. She flops onto the sofa rather than the bed.

"You okay, sweetheart?" I ask.

Her cute mouth purses. "I want to talk to you about something."

"What's wrong?" f.u.c.k, please don't start the how do you feel about me s.h.i.t. I'm too d.a.m.n tired.

"You know how we've been together a month and things are going okay?"

"Right." Here we f.u.c.king go... I knew it.

"Well, I've been trying to tell you something and don't know how." Her voice lowers and she watches me warily.

"Okay..."

Stay away from her. No mixed signals. I sit on the edge of the bed.

Sophia crosses her long legs. "I'm going away next week."

"Uh huh."

"For a couple of months."

"That's cool."

"And I don't know what that means for us." Her big blue eyes watch me warily.

I switch on my sympathetic look; she's cute in her confusion. "Sophia, sweetheart, don't stress. Of course, I'm not promising anything, but we can see how things go while you're away."

Her brow dips. "No. I don't think we should, Nate."

"What the h.e.l.l? What do you mean?"

"I don't think this will work out, especially if we're apart, do you?"

What the actual f.u.c.k? "Are you ending this?"

Sophia rubs her lips together, the wary look growing. "I guess. I mean not now, I'm not leaving until next week. I wanted to let you know upfront, that's all. We can still have some fun before I go, right?"

f.u.c.k that. I drag my pride to the surface and shake my head. "Sophia, sweetheart. There's nothing to end here."

"Nate, yes there is. We're close, aren't we?"

"No."

She sighs and crosses to sit next to me on the bed. "I don't want to hurt you. I have, haven't I?"

I drag my hand away as she takes hold. "You're replaceable."

"Nate, I'm sorry." Sophia places a hand on my cheek and I clench my jaw.

"No reason to be sorry." I take her hand away from my face. "What made you think this means so much to me? s.e.x was awesome, thanks for giving me what other guys can't have. Apart from that, nothing."

"You don't mean that."

She's ending things with me? I don't f.u.c.king think so. "I guess this is goodbye, then."

"What?"

"If you're leaving."

"I didn't say that! I said I wasn't sure we could keep going once I went overseas. That doesn't mean we have to end this now."

"I guess we do. Are you going now?"

"No. I can't leave straightaway, Nate... It's eleven p.m."

I cross my arms. "So? There's still time to find somewhere to stay. Ask reception; they might have a room available in the hotel."

"Are you really telling me to leave right this minute? Don't be silly!"

Silly? "Looks like it." I gather her discarded clothes from earlier and drop them in her open suitcase. "I don't want you here. Might be awkward if I bring another girl back."

She blinks at me. "You're kicking me out so you can pick up another girl?"

"Maybe."

I walk into the bathroom, sweep all her make-up and bottles into her huge black bag she carries the s.h.i.t around in, and zip it closed. Then I stalk back into the room and drop the bag on top of the clothes. "There's your gear, you can p.i.s.s off now." I kick the suitcase closed. "See you around, maybe."

Her cheeks redden. "You b.a.s.t.a.r.d!"

"Hey, you're the one saying this is over."

"But I didn't! I said it might not work! Jesus, Nate. How can you throw me out like this...?" Her eyes well with tears and a smug feeling sneaks over me. She doesn't get to say s.h.i.t like that to me then walk away happy. "Nate, it's late. I'll leave in the morning."

"Nope."

Suitcase fastened, I prop it by the door and call reception. Sophia remains on the bed, watching me silently. "The porter will be here for your bags in five minutes. Do you want to ask if they have any rooms?" I hold out the phone, the reception desk still on the line if she wants.

She jumps up, s.n.a.t.c.hes the phone from me, and slams it down. "You b.l.o.o.d.y b.a.s.t.a.r.d!"

"Never denied it."

Sophia sinks back onto the bed, tears gathering in her eyes. I grab my phone from the table and shove it in my pocket. She doesn't say a word.

Will Sophia tell the press all the gory details about our relationship? Do I give a c.r.a.p? Who cares about my reputation? I sure as h.e.l.l don't.

"Thanks for the fun. I'm leaving for a few hours. Be gone when I come back," I say.

The hotel room door clicks shut behind me and I weigh up my options. Where's the nearest place to get a drink?

5.

RILEY.

The quiet hotel bar area is small; tables and chairs arranged around the s.p.a.ce, which is dominated by a long wooden bar. Brightly lit shelves of spirits line the wall behind, and I toy with moving from wine to something stronger. Then I remind myself I'm on tour working and not holiday.

I check clients' social media accounts to ensure they're running correctly, take a quick look at my own, and then place the phone on the bar.

I don't go out alone as much these days. Occasional drinks after work but never anything late or exciting. Unless you count the odd hook up, but I haven't had one of those recently either.

There must be a conference on in the hotel; a lot of men in suits gathered in the lobby earlier and a few are drinking at tables now, their volume increasing as the minutes pa.s.s. I half check them out, but n.o.body catches my eye.

The bar isn't busy apart from the conference group: one or two couples at the tables near the back of the room, a few guys propping up the wooden bar and talking loudly. Midweek, and the hotel is filled with business travellers.

Two drinks later, on top of the three gla.s.ses of wine with the meal, and I'm pleasantly fuzzy. One more and I'll head to bed.

"I'll get this," a man says as the barman places a gla.s.s of white wine in front of me.

Dressed in dark trousers and a grey shirt with the top b.u.t.ton unfastened, this man is like many I've met before, including myself. Even away from work, he can't drop into casual; his business nature hangs around in his attire.

Good-looking guy though. Friendly face, heavy brow, and a sharp jawline. His arms resting on the bar show evidence he works out. He's younger looking than most of the other guys around, closer to my age. But I'm not interested.

"Thanks for the drink," I say.

He shifts stools and holds his right hand out. "Archie."

"Riley." His firm grip squashes my fingers harder than I'd like.

"Oh, I know somebody with a daughter called Riley."

"I don't know any Archies."

"Want to get to know one?"

I pick up my wine. "Wow, you don't hold back."

"s.h.i.t. Sorry, I didn't mean-" Archie bites his lip. "I meant chat."

Sure he does. I sip my drink, flattered by his attention. "I'm happy to chat. What do you do, Archie? For work."

"Accountant. I'm attending a conference at the hotel over the next couple of days." He points at me. "No sarcastic comments about boring accountants."

I smile and he laughs back. "I wouldn't."

"Are you here for the conference too?"

"Me? No."

"No?"

I don't elaborate; no way do I want twenty questions about working for rock stars. So I stay quiet.

"On your own?" he asks.

Whatever this guy says, he's flirting. I check out his hands and point at his wedding ring. "Is your wife with you?"

He snaps his head downwards. "Oh. c.r.a.p."

I laugh at him. "You're not very good at this, are you? Normally leaving your wedding ring off would help."

"I wasn't intending to... just wanted to chat. A bit of fun."

Oh, G.o.d. I shift in my seat and look at a spot behind him. Hooking up with random guys when the dry spell has gone on too long is something I do, but not if they're married.

Somebody appears at the bar a few feet away and loudly orders a drink. I groan as I take in his appearance, the scruffy guy I do not want to see and the opposite image to Archie. My rock start nemesis. I glance around for Sophia. I could talk to her and politely excuse myself from this awkward situation with the married guy.

Grabbing the gla.s.s he's served, Nate catches sight of me looking at him. He holds the gla.s.s up in salute and I look away.

Too late.

"Riley!" he enthuses.

Archie glances behind him. "Wow. I heard there was a band here. I didn't realise it was Ruby Riot."