Belong to You(33)

All it took was one simple text. Had a bad night Saturday night…saw Jack, slept with him, he disappeared again. She was at my door in less than a half an hour with a bottle of tequila, two quarts of Ben and Jerry’s and her guitar.

“Spill babe, and start from the beginning, we have all night.” Sienna grabbed two shot glasses from the kitchen, which were, incidentally, also the house warming gift that she gave me when I moved to New York last month. She plopped herself down on the couch, cracked open the tequila, poured us shots and I started at the beginning.

As I told my tale, I added in bits and pieces about Jack’s relationship with his dad that I had learned on our trip to Hawaii. By the time I was done, and we had analyzed everything that had transpired, we were both convinced that Jack’s dad had known who I was somehow and was using me in some sort of demented game he was playing.

There truly was no better friend in life than Sienna. She was pissed at anyone who didn’t adore me, and hated anyone who screwed with me, without question. I found it interesting that my best friend knew more about my relationship with Jack, that transpired over an eight day period, than she did about my relationship with Michael, which lingered over seven years. Why did I share so much about Jack with her, yet I never felt the need to talk about Michael, even after a fight?

I started to wonder why my eight day relationship meant so much more to me than my seven year relationship with the man that I had planned to marry. Had I ever really loved Michael, or was he just my safe place? As I rewound time in my head, I realized that Michael never took my breath away. He never made my heart beat out of my chest so loud that I thought the whole world could hear it. And her certainly never made my body quiver uncontrollably with just a kiss. Jack did, and the realization tore my heart out.#p#分页标题#e#





Chapter 15




The week went by slowly and each day I walked into the Heston it got harder. The hotel reminded me of Jack and what we had together. What I had lost, again. Luckily, Lyle didn’t find out what had happened backstage after the conference. Or at least he didn’t mention it to me if he had heard. He did, however, tell me that Mr. Heston’s office had called to tell him that I did a great job and that Mr. Heston was very satisfied. I really didn’t care what Mr. Heston thought, but I was grateful his call seemed to make Lyle happy, which meant he left me alone all week.

Friday night the hotel club was extra busy and the band convinced me to stay an extra hour past the end of my normal shift to keep the crowd partying. I was drained from the long week without contact from Jack, but agreed to stay anyway. I was becoming good friends with the guys in the band and we seemed to have found our stride together. The drummer, Travis, and I had even had lunch together twice, and when we were working he had established himself as my resident bodyguard.

Travis Toomey didn’t look like a typical hotel club band drummer. He had long dark brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, a goatee, and what could only be described as dark brown almond shaped bedroom eyes. His arms were covered in tattoos and he was physically enormous. He towered above most people with his six foot six frame and shoulders that spanned the width of two regular-sized men. When I first saw him sitting behind the drums, I remember thinking that he made the full-size drum kit look like he was playing a children’s set. His handsome face was marred by a deep scar going the length from just beneath his eye to his chin. He looked like he just gotten out of jail and had ridden to the bar on his motorcycle to find a woman, club her over the head, and drag her out the back door unconscious. He looked the epitome of the phrase dark and dangerous.

But the truth of the matter was that Travis rode a bicycle to work and was married to Tom, a man he had been with for more than ten years. He didn’t care what people thought and I was pretty sure he liked people to think that he was a rough and tumble badass. It worked for me because I had seemingly become a magnet for drunk single men who thought I would be sufficiently turned on by their slurring pick-up lines. Travis always kept an eye out for me and would come to my rescue by putting his arm around my shoulder and calling me babe. Every man quietly disappeared with his tail between his legs within thirty seconds of Travis’s appearance.

Travis also always walked me outside and waited until I was safely in a cab before leaving. Friday night there were extra crazies out in the city at one in the morning, so I was grateful that Travis was such a good friend. He kissed me gently on the cheek before I folded into the cab and he gave a sour warning to the driver to take good care of “his woman.”