Time Out (8 page)

Up next was a visit to the hair salon, where I got my hair washed, conditioned, trimmed, and paid for them to do a ‘blowout’. Riley insisted that I needed to try it at least once, causing me to turn to him reproachfully and ask, “Whose side are you on?”

“Joie, hello, I’m gay,” he cracked a grin.

“Well, I think Harlow would find that interesting to hear,” I turned back and quietly sulked as Lizzie paid the big bucks to get someone to blow dry my hair with a round brush until it cascaded down around my shoulders like a Pantene commercial. Then they did my all-time favorite thing; waxed another damn body part. Once they were done my eyebrows were perfectly sculpted. I thought I heard Riley make a comment about what a difference that had made but I ignored him as I waited for the stinging to stop.

Just when I was beginning to think I couldn’t get any more up close and personal with a perfect stranger, I was directed into a back room by a guy who looked like Ken Paves (Jessica Simpson’s BFF stylist) and was instructed to strip down to my underwear so I could get a spray tan. 

Quickly turning on my heel, I was prepared to bolt out of the place all together, but Lizzie rushed forward to intervene by holding up the god awful magazine of me on the cover of US Magazine blinding me into submission. Turning back around, I thought
what the hell
and shrugged once I was back in the privacy of the back room again. I ripped off my tank top and flung off my pink sweatpants as easily as I had done it for Hawkins last night.

Fortunately for Hawkins, this guy was as gay as Riley, but unfortunately for me that meant I got the guy’s perspective on the condition of my body, which in my opinion could be harsher than a girl’s. Lord knows, ‘Ken Paves’ didn’t have a problem pointing out my lack of a six pack and how he could ‘disguise my midriff’ into looking ‘trim’. There’s only so much attitude I could muster up when I was standing half naked in front of someone criticizing me, but that didn’t stop me from trying anyway.

“Seriously—give me a break.” I fixed him with a glare. “I wear a size four, how
big
can my stomach really be?”

I didn’t know what came after looking like a pissed off and defeated dog, but I had arrived there by the time we were done. ‘Ken Paves’ looked Riley up and down, clearly hoping he was in need of his services too, though I didn’t know why because Riley was tanner than me even after the humiliating tanning session.

“We’re having a discount sale today,” Ken Paves announced which was news to Lizzie. “One spray tan, second half off?” he looked hopeful.

I could only imagine how that would play out in Paves’ fantasies since I knew from living day in and out on the road with Riley that he looked like the mirror image of David Beckham stripped down to his skivvies.

“I don’t think Rob Harlow, head of lighting crew for the Grimm Brother’s Band,” I informed him; thinking this is what you get for telling me I have a ‘belly’, “Would appreciate that, but thanks,” I smiled with fake sincerity and led Riley away.

“Joie, Rob’s not out yet,” Riley politely informed me like the loyal person he was, but even he couldn’t hide the grin that took up half of his face.

“I’m sure this one time, he’d agree with me,” I said with certainty at the memory of ‘Paves’ looking at him like he was a piece of eye candy he couldn’t wait to open.

             
Riley must have secretly liked the gesture because he treated me to lunch. We scarfed down on warm buttery pretzel bites, and I inhaled a raspberry slushy like I was in the middle of a marathon, but then again maybe I was because I noticed half way through ‘my makeover’ I was wishing for the finish line.

“Next up, clothes shopping,” Lizzie rubbed her hands together in a scheming kind of way prompting me to lift an eyebrow in Riley’s direction as if to say save me, but when Lizzie zeroed in on a bar top, I decided that enough was enough.

“This is where I draw the line,” I told her. “I’m picking out my own tops.”

Whether Lizzie could believe it or not, I actually knew what looked good on me, but my mom never had the kind of money it took to keep up with the trends on a single family income. I had two choices when it came to high school. One, I could have felt self-conscious and embarrassed to show my face
or
two, own the damn Goodwill outfit and rock it out like I could have cared less.

However, Lizzie did look a little put out when I took Riley’s advice on a couple of dark hued tops that he thought looked good with my dark hair and my newly tanned skin.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               

“Hold on, Joie,” he picked up a lavender colored top and laid it over my chest to see how the color looked on me. “Yep, this one too,” he added it to the growing pile in his arms. 

With Riley’s help, it didn’t take long before we both had a hand full of tops, a few pairs of jeans and shorts, but when I went to head to the dressing room, Lizzie shrieked, “No! You’ll mess up your tan!”

“How else am I going to know if they fit?”

“You don’t,” she shrugged. “We just buy everything you
want
and find out if it fits later when your tan has completely dried.” 

“Do you have that kind of money?” I asked in astonishment.

“Yes,” she assured me, and I thought wow—poor Warren. He must have really liked her. 

I was just about to argue that I wasn’t okay with blowing that much cash, even if she did have that ‘kind of money’, but it was already late in the day and honestly, I was so exhausted at this point that I didn’t have any more fight left in me. On the bright side, grabbing up tops left and right with Riley doing the same behind me made shopping fly by much faster.

When it was finally over, I leaned my head on Riley’s shoulder on the way out to the parking lot and he leaned his head on mine.

“Twins,” he sang, and coming from Riley, that was the biggest compliment I had gotten all day.

Once we were all loaded back up into the van, Lizzie dropped a bag in my lap.

“Just something I got for you when you two were eating.”

“Lizzie, there’s like four pairs of sunglasses in here,” I pointed out as I sifted through the bag full of mostly makeup and jewelry. “How many do I need?”

“Just one that actually
fits
your face,” she said, reminding me of the god awful alien picture when I tried to wear Ray Bans. “You’re a celebrity now,” she added, causing me to grumble all over again.

“
A glitter brush
?”
I held it up skeptically.

“If you want to look good in the bright LED lights we use every night, then you’re going to need some glitter,” Riley answered for her.

“Thank you, Riley,” Lizzie congratulated him. “At least someone understands.”

“We should call ourselves ‘Team Joie’,” Riley replied without missing a beat.

“Yes!” Lizzie exclaimed. “We should get t-shirts made with the logo!”

“I want my t-shirt to say kidnapped and makeup raped!” I interjected but they were in their own world where my opinion didn’t matter.
             
“It would drive Gwyneth berserk!” Lizzie continued excitedly. “I think I’m going to get a pink one.”

“No, you know what would be even better?” Riley offered animatedly. “We should get them made in the same neon yellow color of the crew with the words ‘Team Joie’ in black.”

“That’s hot. Where can we find a t-shirt vendor?”

“
Ahh
, guys, I appreciate the thought but—

“You don’t get a vote,” Lizzie informed me. “Now get dressed. We’re almost at the amphitheater.”

Honestly, I didn’t know what I thought of the whole t-shirt idea, but if it made them both happy I guess I could put up with it. Though the thought of being beside them dressed in shirts claiming to be for ‘my team’ sounded exactly like the kind of thing I was trying to avoid when it came to Gwyneth. Still, I knew a lost cause when I saw one, so I decided to put my energy into something I could actually control - like getting dressed.

After living in my dad’s vintage van for several weeks, I got used to doing things normal people wouldn’t, like changing clothes in a vehicle as easily as if it was my bedroom. We were already late for the show I realized as I slipped into a pair of dark denim jeans with a Fleur-de-lis symbol sewn in silver along the back pockets. Using the back of the seat for a little leverage, I hiked the jeans over the top of another lacy boy short number we bought at Victoria’s Secret (a little surprise for Hawkins’ eyes only.) I then matched the look with a hot pink strapless top that had a ripple of material sewn along the top. Lizzie went to town with the glitter brush; applying it along my back and down my arms as I bent over to adjust my silver gladiator sandals. Lizzie added a spritz of perfume as I finished the look with a pair of small silver rectangular earrings that fell to my jawline. 

“Perfection,” Lizzie gave her seal of approval as Riley maneuvered the van around the concert traffic by flashing his ‘crew pass’ (something Rob Harlow must have had made for him) all the way up to the opening of the band’s parking lot.

After by-passing the paparazzi on our way in, Lizzie offered, “Why don’t we take a walk Joie?”

“Umm…right now?”
The
scaredy
cat inside of me baulked.

“How else are they going to see you?” she hissed.

“Riley, save me,” I squeaked as Lizzie got out with my hand firmly in hers. I was amazed that I actually made it out of the van without tripping onto my face. I felt silly walking down the gravel parking lot since we were obviously trying to catch the attention of the men behind the cameras.

“Isn’t this a bit obvious?” I muttered under my breath as we continued to walk nonchalantly like we couldn’t see the flashes of lights going off behind the neighboring barbed wire fence, so much so that a lesser person would have had a seizure by now.

“Not to America, it isn’t,” she quipped.

“Well—as long as our priorities are in the right place,” I sighed sarcastically.

“Do you want the world to believe you’re a viable contender when it comes to Gwyneth or not?”

Honestly, the mention of this did put a little strut in my stride.
Though I couldn’t have been gladder to leave behind the memory of the flashing lights and screaming voices as I made my way backstage.
When I found Riley sitting in the seat next to mine in the front row, I couldn’t help but laugh as I dropped into the seat and buried my face into the side of his chest at the absurdity of it all.

“It went that well, huh?” He chuckled.

“I don’t know what I was thinking when I decided to do this,” I laughed.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he pretended to think about it. “Could it be that his ex-fiancé seems to be making an indefinite stop on the tour?”

“God—you don’t think she’ll stay for the rest of the entire tour, do you?” I practically pleaded for him to say no.

“How is she so different than the rest of the young groupies vying for Hawkins’ attention?” he turned to ask me. “Because honestly, Joie, he doesn’t seem that interested in her.” 

“I don’t know why I’m so jealous. I mean, you’re
right,
the groupies never seem to faze me. Maybe because they seem so desperate and she seems so sure.” I shrugged. “Though you wouldn’t believe the type of shit she’s been trying to pull on me. It’s like she wants me to
be
jealous and freak out on Hawkins.”

“What’s she been doing?” he asked.

“While you and Harlow were having a secret rendezvous - which by the way, I want to hear all about - Gwyneth’s been busy trying to get Hawkins to leave me behind
literally
. She’s the reason I got left behind in Alpine, or at least
one
of the reasons,” I shot Riley a look.

“About that—I’m so sorry.” He grimaced.

“Well, I’m glad someone is,” I half laughed. “Because apparently Gwyneth’s never seen my face before in her life, or at least that’s what she told
Keisel
last night at the Alpine venue.”

“She told a security guard that?” Riley, who knew my naming system all too well, didn’t even blink twice at the code name.

“Yeah, and
Keisel
just so happened to be working the backstage door at the time.” I stressed, knowing Riley would understand the importance of this.