I hear the door lock click at around six fifteen and Trace comes in, “Hey dude, I was thinking we could go have breakfast and then…”
He stops talking when he sees Summer on the couch, “Why is she sleeping there?”
I don’t look him in the eye, “Because I really didn’t want her sleeping with me.”
Trace just keeps staring at her, “That doesn’t mean she had to sleep on the couch. We could have got adjoining rooms or something.”
“Just forget about her for a minute alright? Let’s go get some breakfast.”
Trace reluctantly leaves the room with me and we go downstairs to get the complimentary food. We don’t say anything to each other while we eat and I barely touch my eggs. I move them around my plate and finally give up on eating. Trace on the other hand has loaded his plate so full that four people couldn’t finish it.
“You hungry?” I ask, eyeing the plate.
“I might need a snack later.”
I’m too tired to question him, so I throw my food away and Trace takes his with him. We get back to the room and Summer has vacated the couch. I can hear the shower running and assume she’s getting ready to leave. I go into my room and pack up my stuff which is scattered around the room. When I come out of my room fifteen minutes later, Summer is sitting on the chair in sweats, eating the food Trace brought up with him serving her orange juice. Leave it to Trace to take care of her. He believes in treating women right. I believed that once upon a time. Those days are long gone though.
Craig comes into the room, “Trace, your flight back to Memphis leaves in an hour. Summer and Justin, the bus is leaving in ten minutes.”
Summer nods and Trace notices me in the bedroom doorway, “Dude, I’ve got to get going.” I give him a manly hug and say goodbye. He stops on his way to the door and says something to Summer. She hugs him and at first he doesn’t know what to do, but eventually he puts his arms around her. What the hell? Since when does my best friend hug a prostitute? Trace grabs his bags and heads out the door.
Some guy from the hotel comes and takes our luggage down to the bus and Summer and I head out to the elevator. I look at her. Her dark brown hair is damp from her shower, but the new caramel highlights show through, and the sweatshirt she’s wearing swims on her body. It’s not that cold out, after all it is Nevada and jeans and a tee shirt would suffice, but she definitely looks chilly. She looks exhausted. I felt the same way during my first tour. She’ll get the hang of it soon. What really comes through though is her blue eyes. They’re deeper than mine, more intense and bright.
The elevator dings and we get on, saying nothing to each other. We exit the hotel and get on the bus, with the next stop being New York. Summer sits on her couch and pulls a blanket over her body. Johnny comes on the bus and I greet him, “Hey Johnny.”
“Hey man. You must be Summer.” He says, shaking her hand. She manages to smile a little and say hello.
“Okay, we won’t be in to New York until late tonight but Craig arranged for you two to have lunch at a French restaurant on the way.”
“Thanks Johnny.”
“No problem, see you in New York. It was really nice to meet you Summer.”
“Likewise.” She says in a small voice.
Johnny doesn’t know what she does for a living. Only a handful of people know, including Trace and Craig. It’s not something we want people to know. Not even close friends.
Lunch in public. Craig and my publicist must have worked overtime to come up with a social event that photographers would “catch” us doing couple things. Great.
_______________________________________________________________________
The bus stopped somewhere around twelve and Summer was whisked out to be primed and I was talking to one of the roadies about the setup of the stage. My hairstylist Carmen and stylist Jean comes out of the trailer with Summer following her. Oh my gosh. She’s wearing this empire waist red dress that just hits her knee. The sides of her long brown hair are pulled up in diamond barrettes, she’s got chandelier earrings on with a matching bracelet and black high heels. I guess Jean can perform miracles on anyone. But she has practiced on perfection.
“Alright Summer your ready. Have a nice lunch you two.” Jean gives Summer a purse and leaves us
“Let’s go.” I take her arm and hold it as we get into the limo and drive to the restaurant. Paparazzi follow us and I hold her closer to me, knowing that the windows on this limo are the only ones in creation that are just tinted to look like we want privacy, but are really meant for the best candid shot ever. Summer look extremely uncomfortable near me, but I ignore the fact due to the news last night. It appears my likeability factor has gone up after our little interview.
We get out of the car at the restaurant and I pretend to be pleasantly surprised at the fucking cameras going off in our faces. Summer smiles and I wrap my arm around her shoulder as we enter the restaurant. The waitress comes up to us, “Table for two?”
I give her an award winning grin, literally, “Yeah, that will be great.”
She escorts us to our table and leaves us with the menu. Summer looks it over and then puts it down, staring out the window. Well this is fun. I finally decided the guy across the street is probably getting some shitty pictures of her not paying me any attention, so I decide to speak up, “The lobster or shrimp looks good. You want some?”
She gives me a surprised look that I’ve even acknowledged her presence, “No I can’t have seafood.”
I frown a little, “Why not?”
“I’m allergic. My throat closes up when I eat it.”
Oh.
“Do you have to carry one of those pens with you?”
She shifts in her seat, “I would if I had medial coverage. As it is, I just try to know what I’m eating.”
Jeez. I never thought about not being able to afford medicine. But she could have taken a real job as a waitress or something, so whose fault is it really?
“What are you going to get then?” I ask, trying to keep the conversation alive.
“The lentil soup, I want something to warm me up.”
“Since were going to be spending so much time together, I should tell you the rules.”
Her eyes shoot fire and I can tell she doesn’t like me telling her what to do. “The rules are these; if I decide to pick up a girl at the concert, you need to vacate the hotel room. Craig or someone will see to it that you can stay someplace else. Second, I like to party alone, so if I go out your to stay in the hotel so no one gets a picture of you out with other people. Third, when were out in public shopping like after lunch, don’t ask for a damn thing. You have money now. Are we clear?”
She sits back against her chair and grits her teeth, “First, if some other girl wants to relieve me of my duties for the night, I’m all for it. Second, I don’t want to party with moronic celebrities and third, I don’t want anything from you. So I would say were crystal clear.”
She’s certainly a pistol. The waitress takes our orders and brings us our food. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a cameras getting closer so I take my hand and hold hers over the table. She gives me a hard look but doesn’t protest. We eat silently and I pay the bill, leaving to go walking around Pennsylvania’s shopping centers. I’ll do more in New York, but it makes for a nice photo opportunity now.
We walk around as photographers follow us and go from shop to shop. I stop in the electronics store and buy a new Ipod, since mine is getting dated and purchase a new laptop for myself. Summer looks around at the gadgets and runs her fingers over the black nano, but says nothing. If only my past girlfriends were like this, we might have lasted.
I drag her to the next store and the next until we reach Coach. I look at the wallets as Summer looks at the purses on the shelves. A salesgirl comes up to me, “Would you like some help?”
“Yeah, I’m going to get this wallet.” I say, handing it to her.
“What about your girlfriend? What does she need?”
Shit. I never considered looking like an ass of a boyfriend for not getting her something.
“Hey baby, come here.”
Summer turns around and slowly walks over to me, “Yes?”
I manage a smile, “Why don’t you pick something out.”
She gives me a look of confusion, “Uh, no thanks.”
She just has to be difficult.
“No baby, this nice salesgirl wants to know what I’m going to buy you. Because you’re my girlfriend.” I spell it out for her and I see a light bulb go off in her head.
“Thanks sweetheart, but I’m fine. Your right, I should be totally independent and never ask for anything.” She smiles a little too sweetly and walks away.
“It’ll just be this then.” I say to the sales girl. Out of all the hookers in LA, I had to get stuck with her.
My bodyguards Rob and Tony laugh under their breath and I shoot them a look. We leave Coach and stand on the sidewalk together.
“Alright, I’m going to go get a watch for myself. Tony you come with me and Rob, you stay here with Summer. I need some peace.”
Summer waves at me and I go get my watch I had ordered. I pay for it and walk back to where I left Summer and Rob. Neither of them are there though and I look around at all the shops. God knows what slip up she might make if the press gets a hold of her when I’m not there to correct it. Finally I see Rob in the window of Barnes & Noble and I make my way angrily into the store, but try to look calm on the outside. Summer’s got a bag with her and Rob is talking to her. They see me and freeze for a minute, then approach me. Rob tries to calm me down, “She just wanted to get a book-”
“I said wait there, not cater to her whims. Do you want to lose your job?”
Summer steps in front of Rob, “It was my fault. I made him go in with me so I could get To Kill A Mocking Bird. It’s my favorite book.”
“I didn’t know whores could read.” I spat.
She looks like I just slapped her in the face. Summer’s breath quickens and both Rob and Tony stare at me.
“Let’s just go. Don’t even think about making a scene out there. We’re supposed to be in love, remember?”
Summer stares at the ground and nods. Rob wraps his big arm around her and shields her from the cameras as we make our way back to the car. I smile some at the flashes before getting in while Summer refuses to look up. We all sit silently and Tony whispers in my ear, “Is that how you treat your girlfriend?”
“It’s just a publicity stunt okay? She’s go back to doing her normal job after this tour.” I whisper back, trying to distinguish that I treat my girlfriends fine, she just wasn’t really my girlfriend.
Summer clutches her book as we get back on the tour bus and I retire to my room. I see tears roll down her cheek even from the view I have from the door that’s just barely cracked open. She has the book hugged to her chest and is rocking her body. It was a mistake to say it. I didn’t mean to, but apologizing is out of the question. I don’t know what’s going on with me lately. I managed to her hurt her and myself at the same time. At least I’m talented. I lay back and wait for tonight when we roll into NY. Until then, I just wait.
