The Get-Go [Ashton Irwin]

02: Get Hype

Dedicated to DaydreamAwayxx... thanks for voting <3

    It was exactly a year ago today that Ash and I first met. He was staying in the hotel my mum manages with the band. They were a supporting act for some overrated rock star, who was also checking in that night. Actually, he sent someone else to check in for him. Funnily enough, Derek Tremblay is already obsolete, dragged out of the spotlight by a near-drug overdose in a flophouse in a bad area of LA.

    I'm embarrassed to admit, I actually kind of had a thing for him, and spent the better part of the first day of his stay hoping I'd get called on to do… pretty much anything. I'm only technically on staff as a lifeguard, but since Mum's the GM, I get stuck with being the Jack(ie) of all trades – whatever they're short-staffed for, I get stuck doing. It rarely happens, but I really did wish that they'd need me to bring Derek room service.

    But alas (that is such a great word), I never did end up meeting my now-former idol (honestly, it was the horror stories Ash told me about touring with him that kind of turned me off). Instead, I ended up in bed in our apartment in the residences near the topmost floors of the hotel at midnight, furiously ignoring the stack of midterm assignments I should have been working on. Instead, I had the TV on, and half-watched some stupid sitcom that didn't require much of an attention span.

    Mum was working pretty much around the clock, trying her best to keep the VIP guest himself as happy as possible, and that's how I knew it was her the minute the house phone rang.

    "Yeah, Mum?"

    "Are you asleep?"

     I sat up in bed, and snatched the glasses off my bedside table. "Yeah, Mum, I'm sleep-talking."

    As usual, my attempt at typical teenage sarcasm flew right past her. Then again, I've been sarcastic since I was about three, so it's not like it was anything new. "You should be. You have school tomorrow, do you not?"

    "I don't want to talk about it."

    "We have some guests that want to use the pool. If you come down and open, I'll consider letting you skip. Thomas is on his way in to help, but I need you to get it started."

    It didn't take much detective work to figure that the guests were a pretty big deal – the pool closes at eleven every night, no exceptions. Then, my mind went to who the guest was. Coming to only one sufficient conclusion (Derek), I promised to be down at the pool in ten minutes or less.

    It took me less to slip on my hotel-issued shorts, bathing suit and hoodie, grab my keys, and make my way to the elevator, flip-flops in hand. Since the pool had already been shut down for the night, I had to start up the water slide, the heat and jets in the whirlpool, and check the chlorine levels once again. All the while, I was daydreaming about what I'd say to Derek.

    Imagine my disappointment when I came downstairs to see five teenaged guys, and a pair of adults, none of whom seemed to be of any relationship to the guest.

    Before I could strut off to sit on my life guarding ‘throne’, as I like to call it, and watch the teenagers yell and fight to see who could do the best cannonball into the pool, the man with short blond hair and scruffy stubble on his chin called out to me. When he and the brown-haired woman (who looked only slightly older) approached me, he stuck out his hand to shake mine.

    "Ian Davis." His accent was vaguely familiar. Australian.

    "And I'm Liz Hemmings– that one's mother," the woman smiled in the same accent, pointing at one of the boys, although, at the time, I couldn't tell a single fucking one of them from the other. Clearly, I've come a long way, considering I can now distinguish each of them from a solid hundred and fifty feet away, at least. Back to Liz, though. She also shook my hand. "We know you came back in to open up the pool for us. Thanks – we told the manager not to make any special accommodations for us, but she insisted. I hope you didn't have to come far."