Semua Bab Affair with the Rockstar : Bab 61 - Bab 70

I awoke the next morning in Derek’s arms. I squinted blearily at the alarm clock by the bed. 10:52AM.A pure jolt of adrenalin shot through my veins.“Oh my God, get up, get up!” I shouted, shaking him roughly awake.“Wha– wha’s wrong?” he asked groggily.I hit the floor running, collecting my clothes and throwing his at him as he continued to loll on the bed. “It’s almost check-out time! We’ve got to go!”He just lay there, looking at me like I was the strangest thing he had ever seen.“Get up!” I said, hastily pulling on my panties.“You did not just wake me up for that,” he said, his expression somewhere between amused and pissed.“They’re going to charge us for an extra day if we’re not out of here by 11!”“Kaitlyn,” he said in a tone of voice he probably reserved for small children and older folks missing a few marbles. “I’m a rock star. And a millionaire. The fuck do I care if they charge us another couple hundred bucks?”I was used to looking for pennies and dimes in my kitche

Things weren’t morose for long. We walked back to where we’d parked the car and found a Greek place with gyros.“For old times’ sake,” Derek said, and winked.The sun was getting low in the sky when we climbed back in the car and headed south for San Diego.We got into the city limits just as the sun was setting. The sky was on fire with gorgeous oranges and reds, and I snuggled next to Derek as he drove along the freeway.Somehow we missed our exit. We had to stop for directions (at my insistence – like most men, Derek couldn’t admit when he was lost, and did NOT want to ask anybody else), but we finally figured out how to get to San Diego University.After the truck stop clerk drew us a map, Derek got a mischievous look on his face. First he bought a San Diego Padres ballcap, two red bandanas, and a flannel shirt. Then he motioned me over to a payphone and dumped in a whole bunch of quarters.I could hear Ryan answer on the other end. “Damn it, Derek, where the hell are you?! The op

Our encounter in the shower was a thousand times better than the one from two nights ago.And in a wildly different way, so was the after-party.After we got dressed (I insisted on putting on some makeup and changing into new clothes on the tour bus), Derek took me on his arm and escorted me backstage – and into the midst of a couple dozen celebrities. Suddenly I wasn’t the wallflower reporter skulking on the sidelines; I was on the arm of the most desired man in a room full of fame and fortune. Hell, the most desired man in the country. Rappers, rock legends, film stars, TV actors – all of them were looking at me like, Who’s this? A couple of the rappers playfully hit on me, then joked with Derek like they were afraid he would come after them (“Awright man, you know I’m jus’ playin’ – I wouldn’t do you like that, dawg – but daaaamn, shorty is tight”). The older rockers and movie stars were courtly and polite, but the women – especially the younger women, the ones who had probably com

When Derek and I got back to the room, I was freaking out over what I had agreed to do.“I don’t know if I should,” I fretted.Derek stepped up behind me and wrapped me in his arms. “It’ll be fine.”“But it’s illegal.”“So is speeding. You ever speed?”“No! Wait – are you talking about the drug, or…?”He laughed and kissed my neck. “I’m talking about doing 70 in a 55 mile per hour zone, dummy.”That irked me a little. I don’t like being called a dummy.But I did feel a little stupid.“Oh. Yeah, of course.”“Okay, then. You were doing something illegal.”“They only fine you for that, they don’t throw you in jail!”He kissed his way up my neck and nibbled my ear. “You worry way too much, do you know that?”In spite of my nervousness over the Joshua Tree situation, my body responded the way Derek knew it would.Unnnhhhh.I melted a little in his arms as he continued to kiss my neck… but then the merry-go-round of thoughts started spinning again.“I need to be able to do my job.”“You wil

On the way to Joshua Tree, we stopped in a little town called Yucca Valley to get provisions. It was so small and out of the way that not a single person in the tiny grocery store recognized the band.“Don’t forget the orange juice,” Killian commanded. “We have to have orange juice.”“I didn’t know you liked orange juice so much,” I said.“It’s for all of us,” he explained. “Helps with the mushrooms. Intensifies the high. And helps you wash them down, since they taste like shite.”“Literally,” Derek said. “Since they grow in cow shit.”“Great,” I muttered, my stomach turning – and not just from the image of what I was going to ingest being plucked out of cow patties.No, my stomach was upset because now it was real.This was really going to happen.We actually didn’t go to Joshua Tree National Park – at least not right away. Instead, we wound our way through dusty back roads, past trailer homes and barren fields of cactus and rock, until we wound up at a tiny group of cabins out in th