Maid for the Rock Star

Part 16

Sixteen

Jason climbed into the helicopter, irritated and intrigued and itching to get off the island. Hence the helicopter. Not that he was flying it; he left the difficult stuff to other people like the pilot. He knew the press release would go out today, telling the world about Chaya's farewell tour. His days as a hot rock god were numbered and it fucking pissed him off.

And that girl...refusing him like he was a nobody already. Who did she think she was? She was a hotel maid, for fuck's sake. Not a rock star or a doctor or even the hotel manager, but the girl who cleaned the floors and took out the rubbish. He wanted some solace from normal girls. The sort that swooned at his feet. Not made him read fucking romance books full of shit no rock star would ever do. Cook a girl breakfast? Put her pleasure before his own? Tell her stuff no self-respecting rock star would ever admit to feeling when there was enough alcohol in the house to deaden it? Shit, he needed a drink just thinking about all that emotional crap. The stuff crazy people told their shrink.

He scratched his chin, or at least the hair sprouting from it. Could a rock star get away with a hipster beard? He was almost there. It'd be a shame to shave it off now.

As they lifted off the helipad, he watched the hotel staff spilling out of a building hidden among the palm trees. His eyes zeroed in on the one person he'd recognise anywhere – the maid who'd fallen asleep on his couch. When she lifted her gaze to the rising plexiglass bubble, he deliberately turned away.

Why hadn't he reported her? Called Security or Reception and had them remove her from his house? He'd even felt sorry for her and bought her breakfast, but she'd refused. What kind of girl refused to join a rock star for breakfast after sleeping with him? Well, sleeping in his house, anyway.

He'd pick up some girls in town and bring them back to the island for a few nights. That'd make him feel better. Let the maid know what she was missing out on. What was her name? Audrey, like the fool's shepherdess...Jason fingered the tattooed words on his arm, a constant reminder of who he was. At least until Chaya fractured and they all went their own ways. Then what?

Fuck, it was too early to be thinking about a future beyond the rest of the day. He wanted a drink. Then he wanted some damn accommodating chicks who'd do whatever he asked, because he was a rock star. He stared moodily out the window, where the clashing colours of red rock, aqua ocean, the muddy brown of rivers and the green swirls of vegetation marking the riverbanks looked more like an abstract painting than real land. Everything about this place was surreal, including the way all the rivers and inlets looked like tortured trees full of snakes. Next to them, the heart-shaped island that housed his hotel seemed nearly normal.

Not that he could get away with rubbishing the town in the residents' hearing, though. He knew that already. One chance comment that ended up in the news could linger for weeks. Talk about hypocrisy. He could do whatever he liked to his appearance, get drunk and sleep with half the town's female population, and all anyone would say is that he was living it up in Broome because it was paradise. Say the town had a trippy river and he'd get hate mail.

Beside the town helipad, he could already see the car he'd ordered. A brand-new, black four-wheel-drive with air conditioning that could bring an Antarctic blizzard to the Kimberley. He itched to drive it. Maybe even take it off road a bit.

The helicopter bumped gently to the ground. Driving time.

"I'll drive up to the pearl farm myself and meet you there with the chopper later," he told the pilot as he slid to the ground, doubling over to stay out of reach of the still-spinning rotors. "Oh, and make sure they know I'll be bringing guests!"

He climbed behind the wheel of his new car and pulled the door closed, sealing himself inside with the new-car smell. The cloying humidity could stay outside the glass as he drove with dream-like precision to the morning haunt of all rock stars: the nearest pub.