Page 33 of Secret Hudson

I have nothing. No response short of dropping to my knees and literally begging, which I would do if I thought it would make a damn difference. Only I know that it won’t. Hudson isn’t just mad at me. He’s done with me.

HUDSON

I have no fucking clue where I’m headed with all of my shit in hand. Truth is, I’m not likely to get further than the couch. After all, I’m still under contract. And that contract clearly states that I have to be stuck like motherfucking glue to Finding Nolan for the remainder of their tour, which means another two weeks before I’ll be able to truly walk away from Royce. And it remains to be seen if that’s something I’m really capable of doing.

Making a dramatic exit in the heat of an argument is considerably less risky when you know damn well you can’t go but ten feet outside of the room before your legal obligations force you to stop again.

Unfortunately, I’m way too wrapped up in my own funnel of thoughts to realize I’m not alone in the room. No. Ava ishere, too. Of all the people staying in this fucking suite, she’s the last one I want to see at the moment.

She looks over at me over the rim of a large mug. How that chick is able to drink coffee at all hours of the day and night and still manages to sleep blows my fucking mind. Then again, maybe she isn’t sleeping. The way she runs around the damn place like the goddamn energizer bunny organizing every aspect of everyone’s life probably doesn’t leave her any time to catch too many Zs.

“I heard you two fighting. Are you okay?” she asks quietly.

“No. No, I’m not.” I shake my head and start toward the couch, my originally intended target.

“Is there anything I can do? I know tonight had to have been really rough on you. I’ve got coffee, brownies and Nutella. I don’t know if you know, but those three things combined together fix damn near anything.” She attempts a smile.

I want to scream. How the hell is she acting like she can erase what she’s done to me and to Royce by offering me a fucking pastry?

“No, Avalon. Shocker as is it may be to you, none of those stupid things are going to fix this.”

Her face falters from the harshness of my tone and she seems genuinely hurt. And surprised.

“I’m sorry. I was just...That’s what I do with my friends when one of us is hurt. We eat brownies and drink coffee. It’s stupid. But it’s what we do.” She shrugs helplessly.

I yank a blanket from the recliner and spread it out over the couch. “Yeah, well. I’m not your friend, Ava.”

She frowns. “You’re not?”

I plop down like I’m claiming the fucking place. “No. I just work for you. In more ways than one, I realize now.”

Ava comes closer. “What are you talking about?”

“Remember that self-righteous little speech you gave me the night you offered me this job? Because I do. Man, you really had me eating up every last bit of that bullshit. Don’t I feel stupid now?!”

Her brow knits, crinkling her forehead and I can’t tell if she’s mad or confused. It’s entirely possible she isn’t sure either.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about how you swore up and down you were the band manager and not their fucking pimp. Imagine my surprise when I find out that apparently the two go hand in hand after all and you really did hire me to fuck your bass player. I mean, it all makes perfect sense, now.”

And the confusion is gone. Ava is definitely mad. Furious is probably more like it. “Excuse me? Well, you better keep talking until this starts making some fucking sense to me, Kieran Hudson.”

“Really? You’re going with denial? That’s fine. I’ll spell it out for you. Royce told me,” I spread out my arms dramatically, “e-ve-ry-thing. How you won’t let him come out publicly because you think it will hurt the band’s image. How you make him go to some pretty extreme lengths to properly portray a womanizing heterosexual. Including that little stunt you pulled tonight, making Francis pretend to be his girlfriend. So, yeah, it all makes sense now. You want Royce to keep acting straight, you gotta keep him happy, and what better way to do that than to hire him a little piece of ass for the road?!”

Ava just stares at me. For a really long fucking time. She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t shout. Doesn’t physically attack me. She doesn’t even bother to give me the finger, and I have a shit ton of pictures which indicate just how much she enjoys doing that.

There’s nothing. The longer it goes on, the less I’m sure if she’s even angry anymore.

I’m about to pull the blanket over my head in a toddler move to block her out when she finally exhales loudly. “I’m really sorry. That’s not exactly what happened here, but I understand why you would see it that way. And I know how hurt you feel because of it all, so I truly do apologize. Hurting you was never my intention.”

“Oh please, Ava. What the fuck would you know about how tonight made me feel? Huh?”

For a moment I think she might actually cry. “More than you could possibly imagine.”

Then, she turns and walks away without saying anything else.

I watch until I see her disappear in her own room. Then, I’m alone. And it sucks.

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