Between a Rockstar and a Hard Place (4 page)

‘Well,
thank you for all you help,’ I say sarcastically, although I’m glad I had him
to go up there with.

‘You’re
welcome,’ he replies. ‘So, where are we looking next?’

‘Oh,
don’t worry, you can get back to the party. I only dragged you up here with me
because I didn’t believe you.’

Troy
smiles and wraps an arm around my shoulders.

‘I
could go back and get drunk with those guys but you know as well as I do how
boring they all are. To be honest, I’m enjoying this – and I can’t leave you
running around in the middle of the night all on your own, can I? Not with all
the…’ Troy pauses, and jokingly looks around to make sure no one can hear us.
‘…ghostly goings on in this hotel.’

I
giggle, and now that he’s not being a smart arse I can’t help but feel a little
starstruck around him. I don’t usually feel like this around celebrities, but
I’m suddenly feeling very attracted to him, and just having his arm around me
is making my whole body feel tingly.

‘Are
you sure you want to spend your night hunting for Dylan with me? It won’t be
easy.’

‘I’m
sure,’ he replies, squeezing me tightly before releasing me as the doors ping
open in the hotel lobby. ‘Now, what could that girl have meant when she said
Dylan was seeing man about a dog?’

‘Ah,’
I say awkwardly. ‘About that…’

‘A
prostitute?’ Troy asks in amazement.

‘Yep.
A man about a dog is just Dylan’s polite way of saying that he’s… looking for
company, shall we say. Don’t act like you’re surprised.’

‘It’s
not the fact he sleeps with prostitutes that amazes me, it’s the fact that he
literally got out of bed with a girl who just slept with him – for free,’ Troy
rants, his voice jumping higher on those last two words. ‘He slept with a girl
and instantly decided he wanted more sex, but this time he wanted to hand over
money for it. And didn’t you say he slept with the girl who has his phone?’

‘Yep,’
I say casually. This may surprise Troy, but I’ve heard it all before. This is
all standard Dylan King behaviour. He’ll be so drunk he won’t really know or
care what or who he is doing, and he’ll carry on like this until someone stops
him.

‘Right.
So we need to find prostitutes,’ Troy says casually.

‘We
do. So if I wanted to find a hooker, where would I go?’

‘The
concierge,’ Troy suggests. ‘They help guests find whatever they want.’

‘Mr
Reeves,’ I tease. ‘You’ve done this before.’

‘Nope,’
he says with a laugh. ‘I’ve just watched a lot of Hotel Babylon – I told you, I
have four sisters.’

‘Yeah,
that and you love it.’ I’m rather enjoying teasing him.

He
smiles that trademark smile of his and I swoon a little. Mentally pinching
myself, I approach the concierge desk – don’t go getting your goals mixed up,
Nicole.

‘Hello,’
I say brightly to the man sitting at the desk. ‘I’d like a prostitute, please.’

He
stares at me for a moment before grabbing his phone and punching in a number.

‘Well
they charge extra for couples,’ he says, looking us both up and down. ‘Male or
female?’

Troy
raises his hand as if he’s about to make a suggestion. I playfully slap it
down.

‘Oh,
no. Not like that, Roger,’ I say, spotting his name badge and sniggering
slightly as I say his name out loud. ‘I think a friend of mine is looking for
one, so I wondered if you could tell me where he might have gone.’

Roger
scratches his head, clearly grappling with his conscience.

‘This
friend, might he have dark hair?’ Roger asks.

‘Yes,’
I say softly, hoping he doesn’t freeze up on us.

‘And
might he be a guest at the hotel?’

‘You’re
getting warmer, Roger,’ Troy interrupts. I think he’s enjoying this Scooby
Doo-esque investigating a little too much.

‘We’re
guests here. What if we wanted to go out and find a bit of company, where would
we go?’ I ask in an attempt to make it easier for Roger to help us out, he’s
clearly breaking some kind of concierge code of conduct by dishing guests’
details to us.

‘Say
you’d told me that you didn’t want one sending to your room, that you wanted to
go out and hand pick your own. I’d recommend a trip to Ash Street,’ he tells
us.

I
stare at the ground, embarrassed on Dylan’s behalf. He’s truly despicable
sometimes.

‘Thanks,
Roger.’ Troy shakes his hand. ‘You’re a diamond.’

Grabbing
me by the hand, Troy drags me out to the taxi stand.

‘Ash
Street, mate,’ he says to the driver, before turning to me. ‘This is fun, isn’t
it?’

As
we make our way across the eerily quiet town, I can’t help staring at Troy’s
beautiful face. Pretty boys are not my usual type, I’ve always been more into
my rock bands, but I’d be willing to go pop for Troy. To be honest, I can’t
believe this is happening. Not the looking for Dylan part, although tonight is
proving more eventful and he is taking a lot longer to locate than usual. No,
the thing that I can’t believe is that I’m sitting in a taxi with TV talent
show runner-up, Troy Reeves. If someone had told me this morning that Troy
would be helping me hunt for Dylan tonight, I’d have laughed in their face. It
may be weird, but I’m actually glad that he’s with me – especially now that
we’re into the early hours of the morning. The hotel may still be alive with
partying musicians and staff but out here in the town things are quiet… too
quiet.

As
the driver drops us off on Ash Street I notice the scantily clad women lined up
along the edge of the street and a few cars slowly creeping along.

Troy
hands over the money for the fare, plus a little extra. ‘Can you wait here
please, mate?’ he asks the driver. ‘We’re just looking for a friend, we’ll need
a ride back.’

‘I’ll
bet you are,’ the driver replies with a wink, tucking the extra money into his
front pocket and giving Troy an encouraging nod. We share another giggle.

‘Well,’
I say, glancing around the street. ‘He’s got to be here somewhere.’

‘We’ve
just got to jump in head first and see what happens,’ Troy muses.

I
laugh. ‘Troy, don’t say “head first” too loudly around here. It’s feet first.’

‘Head,
feet, whatever. All I know is that we need to do this fast because I cannot be
seen here.’

It
hadn’t occurred to me that if Troy was seen hanging around with prostitutes the
scandal would land him in big trouble. He’s actually taking a huge risk by
being here with me, and I can’t help but smile and feel touched by his support
– especially considering we only met a few hours ago.

‘Oh,
oh,’ he chants nervously. ‘One is coming over, one is coming over.’

A
redheaded lady wearing black thigh-high boots, a short black skirt and a red
tube top sidles up to Troy.

‘Shit,
you’re Troy fucking Reeves,’ she squeals, looking him up and down. ‘I’d do you
discount.’

Troy
moves behind me, clamping his arms around my waist and using me as some kind of
human shield.

‘I’m
with my girlfriend,’ he insists, referring to me I’m assuming.

‘That’s
cool,’ the hooker says, stroking my cheek. ‘I’ll do your girlfriend too.’

I
can’t help but giggle, letting out an unattractive snort as I do.

‘I’m
flattered,’ I insist, moving away from them both. ‘But I’m actually here looking
for my friend.’

The
hooker looks angry. ‘Fucking time wasters,’ she rants. ‘You’re not the first
famous guy to come down here tonight, you know.’

Poor
Troy is bearing the brunt of her anger, but hopefully the other famous
timewaster was Dylan.

‘Have
you seen this man?’ I ask her, pointing to Dylan on my t-shirt.

‘Yeah,
he was here. Fucking arsehole was negotiating when some drunk slut falls out of
that bar over there. She sees him, recognises him, offers to do him for free –
can you believe that?’

‘That
is shocking,’ I reply, pretending to care. ‘So they went off together?’

‘Yeah,
fucking time wasters.’

‘So
you just let her wander off with your customer?’ Troy asks, suddenly captivated
by the world’s oldest profession.

‘No,
I punched that bitch in the face,’ she replies proudly. ‘Her nose gushed like a
waterfall.’

‘We’re
very sorry for wasting your time,’ Troy says, pushing money into her hand
before ushering me back into our taxi.

‘Back
to the Williamson Hotel, mate,’ he instructs the driver.

‘Troy,
honey, did you forget to pick up the sex you just paid for?’ I tease.

‘Laugh
it up, Nicole. But you heard what she did to that girl who lost her Dylan’s
business, I couldn’t have that happening to you, could I?’

I
smile. He really is looking out for me.

‘Well,
thank you.’ I’ve never had to thank a man for paying a prostitute to avoid me
getting my face punched in, but there’s a first time for everything.

‘Thank
me by never telling anyone what just happened,’ he replies. ‘Anyway, I should
be thanking you. My schedule is brutal, I’m always being watched by my manager
or someone else who works for me, I never get to have adventures any more. I
know Dylan is in trouble if we don’t find him, but I’m having a great time with
you.’

Now
that I think about it, since Troy joined me in my quest to find the elusive
Dylan King, I am actually rather enjoying myself too. Whether we’re searching
haunted hotel floors or negotiating with hookers, we are actually having a
laugh.

As
we pull up outside the hotel yet again I experience major déjà vu – you know,
that feeling like you’ve already done what you’re doing? But in my case, I
really am stuck on Groundhog Day.

As
we walk through the doors I make eye contact with Roger, who squirms awkwardly
like he’s hiding something from us.

‘We
didn’t see him,’ I call over. ‘Have you seen him?’

Roger
looks at his feet.

‘Roger,
I thought we were pals,’ Troy tells him. ‘You’re not holding out on us, are you
buddy?’

‘I
don’t know anything, that’s the truth. You know I’d tell you if I’d seen him.’

I’m
not entirely sure I believe him, but he didn’t hold out on us before so I guess
we’ll just have to take his word for it.

‘Yo,
Ro,’ a young male hotel employee with a mop calls out. ‘Where’s that blood you
need me to clean up?’

‘In
the lift,’ Roger calls back.

Troy
and I exchange a knowing look. What a coincidence that Dylan’s ladyfriend got
punched in the face, and would you believe it, someone has just been bleeding
in this very hotel.

‘Roger,
you’ve let us down,’ Troy says with real disappointment in his voice, and Roger
hangs his head in shame.

‘He
checked into a room,’ Roger admits without looking up. ‘You just missed him
again.’

We
wander over to the reception desk, maybe they can tell us what room he has
checked into.

‘Hello,’
I say to the lady behind the desk, who must have relieved the Ghostbuster for
the night. ‘A friend of mine checked into a room not so long ago, his name is
Dylan King.’

‘Erm,
we did have an unscheduled check in,’ she starts, staring at her computer
screen as she speaks. ‘But I’m sorry, it wasn’t under that name. Could your
friend be using a different name?’

Oh,
I see, she’s hinting. Dylan – who already has a room might I add – has checked
in with a fake name, like he always does when he doesn’t want to be found or
when he’s being pretentious.

‘Right.’
I take a deep breath. ‘Do you have a George Bush?’

‘No,’
she replies.

‘A
William Shakespeare?’

‘No.’

‘Colonel
Mustard?’

She
laughs, but tells me that no, there isn’t anyone here under that name.

‘Miley
Cyrus?’

Troy
starts laughing too. ‘Are you serious?’ he asks me.

‘Yeah,
he likes important people – or important sounding people at least. He’s always
wanted a military title… or to be a part of the Cyrus family. Listen,’ I turn
back to the girl. ‘We both know he’s checked in under a stupid name, and I
could stand here and guess forever, but the problem is I need to get to him
before he goes missing again. So can you just tell me what name he’s using, or
give me a very big hint, please?’

I’m
begging her, but I’m desperate.

‘I’m
sorry,’ she repeats herself. ‘It’s against hotel policy, I’d lose my job. If
you know the name of the person I can help you, but if not then I can’t do
anything.’

I
open my mouth to reply to her, but Troy places a hand over my mouth to stop me
saying something that might get me removed from the premises.