“Here, let me.” Alexander pushes Rob aside, whipping out his room card.
A maid looks over at us from over her cleaning trolley, unimpressed.
The green light appears on Alex’s first tap and I feel my legs freeze at the prospect of what lies on the other side. Rob edges me forward as Alexander opens the door and enters, and I take a deep breath and walk in. Rob comes in behind me, closing the door and staying put.
“Mom? Dad? What are you doing here?”
Carla and Bruce stride toward us, Carla’s arms opening wideto squeeze Alexander tightly. She whispers something inaudible in his ear. Behind them, the rest of his team, Paul, Connie, Lucy, and the A&R guy from the record label, Nathan, all sit in the lounge.
“No, No! I’m not doing this!” Alexander turns back toward Rob and me. His eyes widen, and he pushes me aside as he confronts Rob. I stumble up against the black marble table in the entrance alcove, a shooting pain flaring up my spine.
“Let me out now!” Alexander shoves Rob, but he barely moves.
“Not this time, Alex.” Rob blocks the door to the suite.
“Move!” His face reddens when Rob stands steadfast.
“Did you know about this?” Alexander turns toward me. We stand toe-to-toe, his breath coming hot on my cheek.
My pulse quickens and I force myself back upright as I fumble for what to say.
“Did you?” Droplets of spit hit my face. Rage pours from his eyes.
Carla takes two cautious steps toward us both, laying a hand on his arm.
“Don’t take it out on Christopher, son. He’s worried about you. We all are.”
“Get off me.” He pushes her away from him.
This side of Alexander scares me. I’ve worked so hard to temper my own anger that the reminder of it in someone else makes my body recoil.
I quickly slide past his mother into the lounge, ignoring everyone else gathered on the pink suede couches and armchairs, and head over to the corner of the room. A telescope standing by the window, looking out onto Central Park, gives me something to lean on and steady myself.
“You can’t do this to me.” Alexander’s anger is turning into a plea.
His mum holds her arm tightly round Alexander as she guideshim into the lounge. Paul and Connie get up from the couch, removing the zebra cushions so he and Carla can sit down. The two of them head over to my corner to grab the two remaining chairs.
“You should join us,” Paul whispers.
“I’d prefer to stay out of it.” My voice carries and Alexander turns to face me.
“I bet you would, Judas.” The words hit my chest like a forklift truck.
I want to move out onto the terrace through the glass doors as Connie and Paul rejoin everyone else, wanting to avoid being caught up in this mess. But my feet won’t cooperate. They’re frozen, stuck to the floor.
Yes, I’d gotten swept up in a scorching hot one-week stand, and sure, I’d agreed to the relationship. But nowhere in the terms and conditions did I recall this being part of any agreement. Yet here I am, still dealing with the consequences of banging a popstar.
“You need help.” Bruce leans toward Alexander.
“What I need is for all of you to leave me alone.” Alexander scans the room, no doubt trying to work out if there is any way for him to escape. I avert my gaze, looking away from his line of sight.
“You can cry, scream, even break shit if you want, but you cannot go on living like this,” Bruce continues, getting up from his armchair to sit on the table in front of Alexander. Alexander’s eyelids droop as his forehead wrinkles.
“Alex.” Carla’s hand rubs his back, soothing him as if he were an infant, in a way I could only wish my own mum would have done. The navy-blue-and-white pinstripes on her blouse move up and down, almost sending me into a trance-like state. “These past few months have been tough on you, no one here denies that, least of all me. But we’re concerned about the way you’ve been handling it.”
Alexander’s head and shoulders drop. A long sniff comes from him.
“The drinking. The drug use.” Carla’s hand lifts his chin. “They’re a Band-Aid on a bullet wound.”
