Rock All Night

108




After an hour moping around in bed feeling sorry for myself, I decided to seize the opportunity. I would make the most of my solo flight! I would go have fun! I would have an awesome time recharging my batteries – alone!

I was a good enough liar that I was able to get myself out of bed, shower, and go down to breakfast without crying again.

After three mimosas, and feeling my spirits temporarily lifted, I decided to go see what the rest of the band was doing.

Up in the penthouse, Killian was standing amongst a pile of suitcases playing his guitar. Ryan was sitting at his laptop, and Riley was nowhere to be seen.

“You’re leaving already?” I asked Killian.

“Got a noon flight to Heathrow,” he nodded, and took a puff on his joint.

I remembered the stories Ryan had told me about Dr. Killian turning into Mr. Hyde… but wasn’t sure if I was supposed to let on that I knew. So I just said jokingly, “How are you going to survive the entire flight without any weed?”

“Private jet,” Killian informed me. “Do anything I want on it, short of bring it down over the ocean.”

I looked at him, stunned. “You got a private jet just so you could smoke out the whole way there?”

“Perks of being a rock star, luv.”

“Wow… I thought Derek buying a car was crazy…”

Killian looked momentarily confused. “I didn’t buy it. It’s just the one flight.”

“Ohhhh… okay, well, that’s better.”

“Although, that might be an idea worth considering,” Killian mused, and glanced over at Ryan. “Perhaps a group purchase by the band?”

“No,” Ryan said, never looking up from his laptop screen.

“Why’d you look at Ryan?” I asked.

Killian shrugged. “He handles 75% of the money, doesn’t he? After Miles’s cut, of course.”

Ryan’s, Derek’s, and –

“That’s right – you handle Riley’s, too!” I exclaimed, suddenly remembering her conversation on the phone with her sister.

Ryan sighed. “…yes.”

“Are you sure you’re a rock star and not an accountant?”

He laughed. “Sure feels like it sometimes.”

I turned back to Killian. “Well… enjoy your private ganja tour,” I teased him.

He smiled. “I shall.”

“What about when you get in, though? You can’t exactly walk into Customs with a bunch of marijuana, right?”

“No, that would be frowned upon by the authorities. But I’ve got a bloke standing by with a care package and a private car.”

I laughed again and shook my head. “You’re one of a kind, Killian.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Miles suddenly barged in the room.

“Well, the car’s ready – ah, you,” he said on seeing me. “Seems the thorn’s not out of my paw yet.”

“I missed you too, Miles.”

“Derek says you’re to mooch off his account here for the next several days. Did he set you up with any cash?”

“No,” I said, suddenly embarrassed. I wondered how much my ‘boyfriend’ had told his manager – and the rest of the band.

“Here,” Miles said, whipping out a roll of bills and peeling off 10 hundreds. “That should keep you for a bit.”

“I can’t take that,” I said, aghast.

“Of course you can, it’s that stupid git’s money, not mine,” he barked as he crushed the bills into my palm. Then he turned to Killian. “Alright, you Rastafarian bastard, out to the car with you.”

For the first time in weeks, Killian took both of his hands off his guitar and embraced me. I hugged him back, though it was a little awkward with a Fender Stratocaster in the way.

“You’re a lovely bird, Kaitlyn. I hope I get to see you when I get back.”

Despite the slightly ominous meaning behind his words, I teared up. “Thanks, Killian… me, too.”

He smiled, then went back to playing his guitar with one hand as he waved at Ryan with the other. “Later, mate.”

“See you, Killian,” Ryan called out.

“Tell the Holy Terror I said goodbye, as well.”

(By that I assumed he meant Riley.)

“Will do.”

And then Killian and Miles walked out of the penthouse.