Rise by Cassandra Robbins

 

 

 

 

GIA

Past – Eighteen years old

Scottsdale, Arizona

“Gia, meet me in half an hour at my room,” Nuke yells across the lobby. I roll my eyes at him as I pass. He bursts out laughing. A long line of women has formed in front of him, all of them waiting to be in his arms. He pulls a random one and holds her close.

I’m hungover, depressed, and so tired I can barely wave at him. Instead, I push the elevator button.

“Rookie. Come on.” He laughs at the face I give him. “If you change your mind, you know where—”

“I won’t,” I grumble. Sighing, I close my eyes and wait for the elevator. I’m not even fazed anymore by all the excited squeals and screams that follow the band everywhere.

I need a quick shower and sleep. After the awful events with Rhys two days ago, I’ve either been drunk or traveling. This morning I had to get up at 5:00 a.m. to shoot Cash working out. Rafe seems determined to make my life hell, and Rhys… I bite my lower lip, trying not to think about him. The doors to the elevator slide open and I wait for the five screaming women to get out of my way, pretending I didn’t hear one of them talking about Rhys’s pierced penis.

After I glance down at my keycard to check the room number, I push the button and watch the doors glide shut, snorting in disgust.

Two days.

For some stupid reason I allowed Nuke to get me drunk, and to be honest, I haven’t been sober since.

Until now, and I feel like shit. But if I’m ever going to make this right with Rhys, I need to be at least somewhat on my game. The elevator dings, and I feel like I’m ninety as I drag my ass off the wall and pull my bag to the room.

I seriously don’t know how everybody functions on tour. I’ve been here less than seventy-two hours and I’m about to collapse.

Opening the door, I relish the cool air in the room. Arizona weather is pretty much like California, so it’s sunny even though it’s December. Dumping all my stuff on the queen bed, I make my way straight to the shower. I can barely keep my eyes open as I scrub myself with the delicious-smelling coconut and vanilla gel. The shampoo is so good, I make a mental note to grab as many of them as possible.

Stepping out, I wrap a towel around me. I’m thinking room service. Can I order dinner this early? I’d love a hamburger with fries.

I’m about to pick up the phone when a knock on the door makes my heart leap to my throat.

“Shit.” I look down at myself. Having tossed the towel seconds ago, I’m naked. And my suitcase is still shut. Maybe if I don’t respond, they’ll go away.

A louder pound on the door is my answer. “Damn it.” I spin around and throw open the closet for a robe.

“What?” I snap as I peek out the door, my eyes narrowing on a tall, skinny woman dressed in expensive clothes.

“Granger wants to see you now,” she snips. Heat floods me for numerous reasons. One, she said the magic word, Granger. And two, how dare he send a fucking whore to get me, like he’s some kind of… king, god, rock star. Whatever, I refuse to participate.

“Who are you?” I open the door so she can get my full bitch energy.

“Sara.” She straightens, and again I want to scream. Another fucking model?

“Well, Sara, please tell Granger I’m tired. If he wants to talk to me, he can come to my room.”

She blinks at me then smiles. “Great, I will.” Turning, she slithers back to the elevator.

I almost call to her, but what am I going to say? You’d better not be fucking Rhys? Clearly, she is. I slam the door shut, all my exhaustion gone. Now I’m pissed.

Asshole.

I’ve been feeling shitty about how it went down the other day and he goes and does something like this? He can’t be that delusional, right? I mean he didn’t think I’d simply jump at the chance to talk to him. Run to his room like what—a groupie? He has to know I’m special. I’m me.

Dropping down on the edge of my bed, I toss my suitcase off with a thud. I need my phone. Julianna will listen to me rant. As I stand, trying to remember where I left it, a loud pounding makes me scream. I cover my mouth, freeze, and stare at the door like it’s going to magically open.

“Open the fucking door, Gia.” His raspy voice goes straight to my core. I shake my head but realize he can’t see me.

Actually, all of this is absurd. I told that dumb groupie to tell him. How did he get here so fast? Taking a glance in the full-length mirror, I almost laugh at how crappy I look. My face is fine only because I’m flushed, but I have black circles and haven’t had a chance to brush my hair yet. It’s a long, tangled mess. Since I don’t have my usual elastic band, I grab a pen from the desk and pin my hair up with it.

Before opening the door, I stop to take a deep breath. I’m sober, thank God. Hungover, but that can work in my favor since I seem to always make an idiot of myself when I’m alone with him anyway.

Trying to get ahold of my racing heart and the butterflies in my stomach, I take one more breath. “Be bold. Only the strong win, Gia,” I chant as I swing the door open.