Page 28 of Rock Star

Our server arrived with plates of tapas—fries covered in a tasty, spicy sauce, cured ham on slices of crunchy bread, local cheeses, olives stuffed with anchovies and peppers, rings of hot battered squid, chorizo sausage, and even little dishes of paella—it was more like a banquet than a snack lunch, and I said so.

Axel forked saffron rice and seafood into his mouth and let out a groan of pleasure. He shot me a quick look, a look that made my belly flutter. “My mum is half Spanish,” he said. “She was born on the island of Ibiza. We used to go there every summer as a family and lived off this.”

My eyes bugged.

There was so much I didn’t know about him.

And so much to find out.

I chewed on a piece of squid, not sure whether I liked it or not—kinda rubbery and tasteless—then took a sip of water. “How about you?” I asked Foxy, who was sitting on the other side of me. If I was gonna find out if one of the band members had been seeing Ella behind everyone’s back, I needed to get to know them better. “Do you like tapas?”

“It’s okay.” He flicked his dark brown hair out of his eyes and pierced a fry with his fork. “But, for me, good old British fish and chips are the ultimate shit.”

“I can’t wait to try that when we are in England,” I smiled.

He returned my smile and added a cocky wink. “There’s a chippy in Borough Market I’ll take you to. Best fish and chips in the world.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” I high fived him.

“How about you?” I smiled at Zach, sitting opposite. “What’s your favorite food?”

“Irish stew,” he said, licking his lips. “No one makes it better than my mum.”

“Huh,” Rhys interjected. “Can’t be compared with Welsh stew, bro.”

The guys launched into a lighthearted argument about which British food was best. But when Jake accused them of being clichéd wankers, Foxy threw a fry at him in retaliation and the debate escalated into a food fight.

I rolled my eyes and ducked my head… they’d suddenly started behaving like rock stars. Not exactly badass—they were throwing fries at each other instead of TVs out the windows—but they were letting off steam. I snickered to myself.

“Time to get ready for the photo shoot,” Jake said eventually, wiping spicy sauce from his face with a napkin.

We all groaned.

He’d gotten a special rate for our rooms in exchange for pictures for the hotel magazine and brochures, he’d said before reminding everyone that CM had lost millions from cancelling the South American, Oceanian and Asian legs of the tour. Due to the advent of streaming and downloading, ChiMera, like every other band in the industry, earned up to fifty times more from touring than from record sales. Publicity was vital to the success of their image and brand.

I rubbed my clammy hands down my jeans, wishing I could hide myself away. The photo shoot gig was freaking scary and somewhat embarrassing. But Jake had asked me to do it after he’d showed me to my room last night… a room boasting 180-degree views of the Mediterranean Sea on one side and the city of Barcelona on the other.

I’d stared at the gorgeous king size bed and beautiful minimalist furnishings and said, “Isn’t this a little over the top for a backup singer like me?”

He’d quirked a brow. “Ella always stayed in the same grade room as the rest of the band. You’re standing in for her, so you have the same perks.”

Then he’d sprung on me that she also did photo shoots with the guys whenever needed, and he expected me to do the same.

So here I was, about to be glammed up and it wasn’t even for a concert.

We all left the dining room and rode the elevator up to the top floor. Camila would style the guys’ hair, but I needed more girly shit done to me… Hayley was waiting in the corridor outside my suite, a whole load of bikinis in one hand for me to try on, and a vanity case in the other.

“Did you eat yet?” I asked as I sat in front of my dressing table mirror.

Her eyes glowed. “There’s an awesome restaurant on the beachfront. Camila and I ate there with the backline boys…”

For a second I envied her the freedom to come and go as she pleased.

Only for a second.

I was touring with the greatest indie rock band in the world.

Go me!An hour later, I paced the decking by the infinity pool wearing a white bikini, my hair in waves down my back and my face covered in make-up. The guys hadn’t appeared yet, so I sat on a sunlounger, my arms wrapped around myself to cover my near nakedness. I tipped my head back and gazed up at the wall of glass, shaped like a sail, towering above me… an iconic structure designed by a world-renowned architect. This hotel was truly gorgeous and I couldn’t wait to Skype call my parents later and tell them about it.

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