They quickly finished dressing and unlocked the door. Reggie sprinted through and went straight for the bathroom, his hair wild from a night spent on the couch, and Delaney felt a little bad, now. She’d been so wrapped up in Grant, she hadn’t thought much about how the Paradise Brothers had fared during the night.
“Good morning, Reg,” she called after him, then she and Grant walked into the other side of the suite.
“Good morning, Finch.”
He was lying on the white vinyl sofa still wrapped in a blue hotel blanket.
“Good morning, sweetness. Oh, you too, Elaine,” he teased.
“How did you sleep?” she asked.
He offered up a naughty grin. “I’m guessing I slept about as much as you did.”
Heat blossomed on her face, but Grant just smiled. He practically thumped his chest. Men.
By the time Reggie and Finch were done in the bathroom, Sam, Humphrey, Clark, and Sissy had all showed up. Humphrey was wearing the sweatpants he’d loaned Delaney the other night, and Sam had on a Paradise Brothers T-shirt. Sissy and Clark, however, were resplendent in matching head-to-toe denim outfits. His, a suit, and hers, a one-piece jumpsuit that would have made Elvis weep with envy.
“Got any coffee?” Humphrey asked, sitting down on one of the cherry-red suede chairs and putting his feet up on the glass-topped coffee table.
“Um, I think so,” Delaney said. “I’ll make you some.” She busied herself at the one-cup pot while the rest of them sat down. With everyone making themselves right at home, it was obvious there would be no privacy, and nowhere to talk to Grant. True confession time would have to wait, and every single part of her was relieved.
“Hey, check out all these Facebook hits,” Reggie said a few minutes later. He was sitting on the white vinyl sofa with a laptop computer resting on his long legs. “The honeys are commenting on our Best Fucking Baby Hat contest pictures. They love it. Humper, I think even you might get laid after this one.”
Humphrey’s laugh was genuine. “My momma didn’t raise no fools, Reg. I told you, the honeys love a man in touch with his do-mes-tic-i-tee.”
Finch leaned over from his spot next to Reggie, peering at the screen. “Here’s a comment about you, Elaine.”
“Me?” Her throat clogged up as if she’d just chugged motor oil. She coughed to clear it. “How did I get on there? What’s it say?” Hiccup.
“It says WHO IS THE LUCKY CHICA IN THE MIDDLE OF A PARADISE BROTHERS SANDWICH? That’s you, sweetness.” Finch beamed over at her like aren’t you excited?
She wasn’t excited. She’d kept her damn head down every single time somebody on that damn bus had pulled out a damn cell phone. How had they caught her in a picture? She handed a cup of coffee to Humphrey.
“That is an enviable spot to be, yeah?” Reggie nodded. “Why don’t you come on over here and do it again. Sit between me and Fincher. Cameraman, take our picture.”
Delaney heard Grant’s jaw click shut.
“No pictures of me today, boys, but I’d sure like to see that one.” She stepped closer and Reggie turned the computer as she bent over to look. Oh, damn it. There she was, right there on Facebook, an image of her sitting on the green sofa of the tour bus, wedged in between Finch and Reggie. Her face in the photo was turned so she was almost entirely in profile, and her normally highlighted hair, which was now dark brown, covered part of her face. She knew who she was, of course, but how many Paradise Brothers fans would figure it out? Probably not many. Hopefully not any.
“Want me to tag it, honeybun, so your friends back in Bell Harbor can see what fun you’re having?”
“No.” Her voice was too sharp, her follow-up laughter too insincere. Hiccup. “No, I wouldn’t want them to be jealous.” And she didn’t want herself to be nauseous. She hadn’t been on her own Facebook page in days, and that was probably for the best, but she grimaced at the thought of what garbage had been dumped there. She really should have shut that thing down before she’d even left Beverly Hills. It felt like a lifetime ago since she’d been in sunny California, and in many ways it was. She’d become a different person since leaving home behind. Not just because of the alias. She was actually starting to feel like a different person.
“You OK?” Grant asked.
She stood up straight. “Yeah, I’m just hungry. Is anyone else hungry?” She needed some air and she needed them to stay off Facebook.
“I’m hungrier than a bear waking up from hibernation,” Sissy said, standing up from her spot on her husband’s lap. “And I want to try me one of those grilled peanut butter and banana sandwiches that Elvis used to love.”
Clark stretched his legs out. “Well, I don’t know about hungry, but I sure could use a Bloody Mary. ’Cause you know, just like my daddy always told me, ‘Son, you can’t spend all day drinking . . . unless you start first thing in the morning.’?”
Sissy giggled and swatted at his shoulder. “Your daddy was a teetotaler and never said any such thing.”
“Didn’t he? Well, somebody’s daddy said it. So let’s head down to the lounge.”