Chasing Blue Roses

6. Professionals Do Not Wear Batman Pyjama Pants.

6. Professionals Do Not Wear Batman Pyjama Pants.

   46 missed calls. Fantastic.

   I stared at the screen of my phone. The digits glowed back menacingly at me.

   “Do you want to grab anything before I take a shower?” Ellie stuck her head into the living area and waved a pair of pyjama shorts at me like a plaid flag to get my attention. “Ava?”

   “Hmm? Oh, no I’m fine. Go ahead.”

   We’d arrived at the hotel a few hours earlier through an underground parking lot. The band’s security detail had declared the hotel safe through a series of walkie-talkies, guarding us as if one of us were the president about to enter the white house.

   We were whisked into a clear, glass elevator, shaped like a capsule and reminiscent of the one in ‘Charlie and the Chocolate Factory’ and led to a private floor that we currently shared with One Direction and their team. I’d never seen such a beautiful hotel room in my life. Ellie and I had shared a look upon our entry. Without the boys, we wouldn’t have been able to afford to pee in a place like this.  

   Floor to ceiling marble pillars dotted our room, surrounded by luxurious, leather furniture and granite table tops. It was only for Ellie and I, but a place of this size could’ve easily housed a family of four – with room to spare.

   I felt like a Rockefeller. The kitchen came completely stocked with food, the wardrobes were as big as our bedrooms back home and there were a lot of wide-screen TV’s. Honestly, there was one in the kitchen, one in the living area, one in each of our rooms, the bathroom and even a miniature flat-screen in our toilet. It was like playing ‘Where’s Wally’ with TVs. You had no idea where another one would pop up next.

   I’d collapsed onto the bed after a long, hot shower, my hair fanned out behind me. My ankle still throbbed, a painful reminder of the events of the day, but I did my best to ignore it. Now that I’d washed away what felt like miles of layers of stress and dirt, I felt a million times better. Letting out a contented sigh, I curled up on the bed, phone in hand and TV on in the background.

   James had called fourteen times and Javier, eleven. The rest of the calls were either from people that I trained with, people that I hadn’t spoken to in a while, or unidentified numbers.

   “You’ll have calls from the press, strangers and companies that want ‘exclusives’.” Andy warned me, on the way up to our floor. “It’s best to ignore them for now.”

   He’d mentioned that if we had any questions, there’d be bodyguards stationed right outside our door. I’d found the ‘at your door’ thing slightly creepy at first, but the car ride over had been filled with crazy stories from Andy and Harry about fans that had overstepped their bounds to meet them.

   I listened in alarm. It sounded like they were getting more and more creative to me; hiding in bins, climbing up fire escapes, disguising themselves as hotel staff... As far as I was concerned, if someone was willing to sit inside a bin for four hours to see the boys, there was probably little else that they wouldn’t do.

   “That doesn’t even include the amount of money I’ve been offered in bribes!” Andy guffawed. “I’d be richer than the lot of you, that’s for sure!”

   I couldn’t help but eye Harry’s empty water bottle as Andy laughed, wondering how much it’d go for on eBay. Creepy.

   “Don’t think too much about it.” Harry had noticed my horrified expression after Andy’s latest tale about a girl who’d climbed their hotel room balcony. One of the boys had woken up to find unblinking eyes and hands plastered to the window panes of their sliding door.