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“Bribery and the nerve to do anything to get what I want,” she replied.
“Anything?” I asked, my tone lifting an octave, not sure what she meant.
“Yeah, it’s shocking how many guys won’t turn down a blow job for turning a blind eye.”
I scoffed and threw up a little in my mouth. “Seriously? You did that?”
“Might have,” she replied, neither confirming nor denying that was the case.
She wandered around the bed like she owned the place and sat down at the bottom. The hotel bedding sat crumbled up in a ball on the bed behind her. It was Lottie’s turn to snicker when she saw I believed her.
“Of course, I didn’t. I booked a room here as soon as I knew the details of the tour. The band always stays here when they’re in Paris. All I did was wait until someone from housekeeping came onto the floor and I waved my legitimate keycard, saying it had stopped working. She was happy to assist me to get into this suite.”
“Wow, that took some premeditative planning.”
“It paid off though,” she replied with a shrug. She paused and eyed me closely, and I immediately folded my arms defensively across my chest. “Are you really telling me you’re his girlfriend?” she asked, incredulously, her eyes darting to my hand, the suite key and then to some of my makeup wipes and the perfume I was wearing, I’d left on the nightstand.
“Well, I used the key Jamie gave me to get in here and I don’t have to hide naked in his bed,” I confirmed, bravely.
Lottie looked devastated by my news, slumped heavily onto the bed, and sighed. For some obscure reason, I felt sorry for her. She had gone to an incredible effort to land herself in Jamie’s bed.
Reaching to the floor, she picked up the jeans she’d discarded at the bottom of the bed and fed her feet into the legs. Standing, she dragged them up her legs and into place over her ass. Rising on tiptoes, she yanked her zipper closed and fastened the button before scrutinizing me again.
As I watched her finish dressing, I fought the reality of any such event happening when I wasn’t around. I shook any idea of infidelity off because of how desperate Jamie’s love for me was. Every time we were together, his feelings toward me felt palpable. I decided I could cope with the thought that fans like Lottie would continue to test Jamie wherever he went, but I’d learn to cope with that.
“I’m not sure I believe you. I know there’s been speculation but a famous man like Jamie Fontaine couldn’t keep a girlfriend a secret for a year,” she decided.
“He’ll feel delighted when I tell him you said that. We’ve done all we could to keep our relationship private until today,” I smiled, knowing he would.
“He’d tell you the same, himself—,”
“Out,” barked a man in a sharp designer suit. I knew without introduction was hotel security. Glancing past him as he stood in the bedroom doorway, I saw a second man, dressed similarly, behind him. Taking two strides into the room, he clamped a possessive hand around my upper arm.
“No, she’s the intruder,” I protested, pointing toward Lottie, my eyes wide in shock as I he began marching me back out of the bedroom door. “Whoa,” I said again. “Ask Helena, your manager, she knows who I am.”
“Quoi?” the massive Frenchman asked, then shook his head, remembering to speak in English. “What?”
“I’m with Jamie,” I protested to the guard as he held me up by my arm, my feet barely on the floor. “I let myself in with my key,” I said, offering my hip pocket with the keycard inside.
“No, I’m with Jamie,” Lottie replied, and the guard hesitated like he was considering the possibility that one of us was telling the truth. “My keycard is in my pocket,” she insisted, compounding the situation.
The guard rolled his eyes up to the ceiling and snickered. “Every girl in the hotel today is with Monsieur Jamie,” he replied with contempt. You must both leave. When the guest comes back, he can decide who he invites to be here.
Still struggling one handed, I pulled my keycard out of my pocket. “Look,” I said, waving it in front of his face.
Instead of checking it out and apologizing, he whipped it out of my hand and stuffed it into his jacket pocket. “If you behave, you may take a seat in the coffee lounge until I investigate the truth.”
Lottie couldn’t believe her luck that I was being thrown out of the suite with her and chuckled. Suddenly, the bizarre situation I’d found myself in struck me as hysterically funny. I snorted and a half hysterical, half humorous laugh escaped from my throat. Lottie’s feet faltered in front of mine when she heard me laugh, and when she glanced at me over her shoulder, she blinked a few times and began laughing as well.
The guards looked cross as they jostled us both into the hallway, stared us down, and I saw what they must have thought. To them we were just two crazy rock star fans. The frog-marched us down the hallway and bundled us roughly into the lift, helpless with laughter.
“Merde, ce sont deux femme folles,” one muttered.
“I am not a crazy girl,” Lottie snapped, causing the guard that had made his comment to narrow his eyes and study her closer. The lift car jolted to a halt on the ground floor and the guards dropped their grip on us. Both men stood flanking the doors until we’d exited, and they steered us like two wayward calves into the coffee lounge.
“Well now, thanks to you, I probably won’t get to see Jamie at all now,” Lottie snapped, slumping heavily into a chair and waving a server toward us.
“Deux chocolats chauds et duex patisseries aux fraises… et elle paie.” The server nodded and left us alone.
