Things We Do At Night

Part 12

(Paul POV)

Next Morning

Paul stood in the bathroom with a towel around his waist and one in his hair, as he lathered his face with shaving cream across it. The singer ran the razor slowly across the stubble, trying to focus on the task at hand and not his thoughts of the cruel words he had spit at you before your accident. Oddly, even after talking to you in the emergency room before he left, Paul was being eaten by guilt. Rinsing the blade off, Paul moved to the other side of his face and pressed the razor again, just as someone started beating on his door. He jumped, feeling the trimmer nick on his skin.

"Goddamn it!" Paul said, grabbing a piece of toilet paper and covering the cut.

"Stanley! Open up right now!" Gene yelled, as he continued to pound on the door.

"What the fuck is his problem," the singer mumbled.

He swung the door open, seeing his band mate look him up and down, before pushing past Paul and opening the closet. Paul stood with his arms crossed in front of his chest with an arch eyebrow, waiting for Gene to give some type of explanation on why he was suddenly in detective mode. Gene kneeled down and looked under there for a couple of minutes with a sigh.

"What in the fuck are you doing, Gene," Paul asked.

"Where is Y/N, Paul? Wait, before you answer please go get dressed so I can have a conversation without throwing up in my mouth." Gene said,

"I'm sorry, but does anywhere on this towel say personal keeper on it? Gene, I don't know where your girlfriend is at. I'm a musician, not a babysitter. If you were so concerned you should have stayed with her, you deserved that ass chewing more than I did." Paul said.

"She's an emotional girl, but I care about her and want to know that she is safe," the bassist said.

"Then go wait in your room and see if she comes back. While you wait, make sure you get the blonde bimbo out of there. You don't want Y/N to kick her ass for a second time. Tony can fill you in on the hospital name, maybe check with Eric, too. You just gotta do it somewhere else, because I've got breakfast plans." the singer replied, pointing at the door.

"Fine." the bassist said, walking toward the door.

Paul jumped at the sound of the door slamming shut and turned back around, grabbing his usual black t-shirt, pants and boots. He looked over at the clock and let out a sigh, thankful Gene hadn't wasted too much of his time to get to the breakfast meeting. Grabbing his wallet and room key, he picked up the hotel phone, dialing a number, looking at the window as the singer waited for the phone to be answered. Finally, hearing another man's voice come across the line.

"Hey, it's Paul. Is everything ready for me to head over there now? I got stopped by Gene and everything went off a bit," Paul said into the phone.

"Yes sir, and the car, too. What am I supposed to tell everyone else if they come looking for you?" Eric asked.

"That I'm an adult and don't require a babysitter anymore. If they don't like it, they can blow me when I get back," The singer replied.

"Oh, they will love that. I will see you in a few days then, try to stay out of trouble," the drummer said sternly.

"Blow me Singer. Thanks for your help though its appreciated," Paul replied, hanging up.

The singer made sure he left a light on before turning on his heels and walked out the door. He made his way toward the elevator, noticing the blonde that had followed the band to the next gig, making Paul frown at the sight of her. Paul pressed the call button to the elevator and waited patiently, feeling the woman's eyes on him still. He glanced up and raised an eyebrow, waiting to hear what the groupie would say.

"Where are you heading off to so early in the morning, Paul," the woman asked.

Paul ignored the woman's question and tapped his foot, hoping the elevator would come soon. Glancing out the corner of his eye, he noticed the girl moving toward him. She ran her hand softly against his bicep, making the singer's skin crawl. Paul pulled away and looked at her, waiting for some kind of explanation on why she was trying to feel up on him, with Gene being out of sight.

"How about I come with you and we spend sometime together," She asked

"I dont know your name, nor do I want to. You are a whore that is riding my best friend's dick, and breaking up a relationship. Do you think if they breakup, he's going to make you his new girlfriend and be truly faithful to you? If you do, you need to go get your head checked. Gene probably has someone in the lobby bathroom fucking them, while going to find Y/N." Paul replied.

"Its Shannon, and I know how guys like you and Gene are. You want to have a little fun and if it was good, you'll call the next time you need a companion. Y/N is just too stupid to see all of that, so if she gets her feelings hurt by finding me lying next to him, that her fault not Gene's." Shannon replied.

Paul grabbed her arm and pulled her to him, looking her square in the eye. Shannon trembled in his grasp, scared and trying to figure out what the guitarist would do next. He looked back at the elevator, seeing it was close to being on their floor. He let go of her arm and watched her stumble backwards a bit.

"Let me make myself clear. I'm not the typical rockstar that fucks everything I see. You dont know me and you dont know Y/N. If you want to keep setting yourself up to get your ass kicked every time Y/N finds you with Gene be my guest, but you keep your dirty slut hands off of me, and don't let my name roll off of that whore mouth of yours. Got it Shannon? Dont worry about running to tell Gene because Ill make sure he knows everything I told you." Paul said, angrily.

The singer let go of the woman's arm just as the doors opened to the elevator. He looked back at the woman, seeing the tears welling in her eyes, and pressed the button for the lobby. As soon as the doors opened to the first floor, Paul wasted no time getting across to the door, not noticing his road manager and body guard staring at him. The singer walked around the corner and flagged down the first taxi he noticed. Quickly giving the cabbie the address to where he was going, and leaned back in the seat, as the driver slammed on the gas and raced into traffic.