“Since now and the store downstairs doesn’t have the kind I want, so I’m letting you know that I’m going to the store.” I get up and straighten my jeans. I step over to the mirror and fluff my hair and play with my lipstick, all things that he’s used to seeing me do.
“You’re not leaving.”
I turn and glare at him. “You can’t hold me here, that’s called kidnapping. I’ll call the cops if I have to.”
Cole steps forward, shuffling his bare feet on the floor. “Ian will kill me if I let you out. You can wait. We leave tomorrow for the tour. One day won’t kill you.”
“Fine, I can wait for the gum, but not the water. I need water or I’ll die.”
“You’re so dramatic, Hadley. There’s water in the wet bar, drink that.”
I walk over to the wet bar and look. Sure enough there’s water, but not the kind I want. If he and Ian want to play games, they’ll suffer. “This won’t do. I don’t like this kind.”
“Of course you don’t.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, placing my hands on my hips for added attention.
“Nothing, I’ll go get your freaking water. You know,” he says as he slips on his shoes. “I never understood why you liked that generic water to begin with. You’re a freaking pop star. Drink the good shit.”
“I never asked for your opinion, Coleman.”
His eyes narrow when I say his name. He never did like me using his first name because it reminded him of his mother. I cock my eyebrow at him. He shakes his head as he heads for the door.
“I’ll be back in five minutes. Don’t do anything stupid.”
That’s what you think.
The second the door shuts I lock it. I don’t care if he’s heard the lock engage or not. I need time to put a bag together and get out of here. Ian may be able to dictate where I perform, but he’s not going to screw up my personal life.
With enough clothes for a few days and a couple of necessities, I sling my bag over my shoulder, pick up my phone and walk to the door. I hold my breath as I unlock it. I inch it open and cautiously look down the hall before opening it farther. I look in the other direction and only see one housekeeper. The path to the elevators is clear, but I’m not taking those. I jog down the hall to the stairwell and throw open the door.
I descend one flight of stairs before pulling out my phone and texting Alex, asking her to call the concierge desk and secure me a cab. I don’t want to wait once I’m down there and run the risk of running into Cole, or even Ian, for that matter.
I rush down the rest of the stairs, breaking a sweat. I’m thankful for elevators because I can’t imagine having to climb these, but the thrill of going down them so fast is exhilarating. When I get to the last step, only the door is standing between me and a bit of freedom. I push it open slightly and look for Cole and his harem of screaming fans that follow him around. That is one thing I could never get used to… his fans. He never cared if they followed us out on a date, or stopped us in the middle of dinner for an autograph. To him it was all business. To me it was an intrusive and unneeded deterrent in our relationship. It was like I was sharing him with the world and I hated it.
I walk down the long hall with my head down, sunglasses on. I wish I had put on a baseball cap or something to hide my hair, not from fans, but from Cole. I need this to work. I need to be with Ryan so he knows that he’s the one and that being with Cole on tour won’t change how I feel about him.
As soon as I’m out in the open, I spot the cab that is waiting for me. The driver is holding a sign with Alex’s name on it. She’s a freaking genius. I walk a bit faster until he makes eye contact, I wave and he opens the door.
“Airport,” I tell him as soon as he’s behind the wheel. “And please hurry,” I say for added benefit. I look back at the hotel as we pull away and wonder if Cole has been back to the room yet and realize I don’t really care. If Ian is doing this as some type of publicity stunt, he’s in for a rude awakening because I won’t be his guinea pig. I’d rather quit and never sing again than be thrown into his world of lies and deception.
Traffic is light and for that I’m thankful. The drive to the airport only takes twenty minutes and yes, the driver exceeded the speed limit. I hop out as soon as he stops, throwing money onto his passenger seat. He says something, but I don’t acknowledge him. I look at the reader board to find the next available flight, one that will get me to Jackson or close enough that I can drive there.
My phone vibrates with a text from Alex. Your ticket is at the counter. Regular airline.