Hello Sunshine

I walk out of the bathroom, steam rolling out around me, and slowly trudge to my bedroom across the hall. I close the door behind me as I instinctively search for the time. I groan, finding that it’s twelve o’clock already and quickly slide off the towel I’m using. After rubbing some product in my hair and slipping into a pair of comfy jeans and a T-shirt, I drag my bags down to the front door.

“Evie!” I call, flicking my bangs out of my face as I ruffle my hair. “Let’s get a move on!”

“I’m coming! Hold your horses.” She replies from upstairs. I wait, listening to her run about.

“What are you doing?” I ask, cracking my knuckles in boredom as I stand in the foyer.

“It’s only 12:15, chillaxe!” Evangeline shouts, still banging about upstairs.

I sigh, feeling a bit jumpy. I start to mentally run through some need-to-know info on the boys, such as where they grew up and why they chose the name “Tokio Hotel”, feeling nervous and unsure. I absent-mindedly play with my thumb ring, twisting it and sliding it up and down.

Breaking my train of thought, Evie comes bounding down the stairs, a huge grin on her face and her purse in hand.

“Hey Dolly, ready to go?” She picks up one of my suit cases, grabbing her coat out of the closet as well.

“Yeah. What’s up with you?” I ask as I raise an eyebrow, suspicion enveloping me as I drag my other two suitcases out to her car. The sunlight blinds me a bit, but my eyes quickly adjust.

“Nothing. I’m just happy that you’re getting’ stuff done. Making your dreams come true, yaddy yaddy yada.” Evangeline nods once, hopping into the driver’s seat of her car. Her bubbly mood never ceasing to amaze me.

I furrow my brows, shaking my bangs out of my hair as I slam the trunk shut and quickly climb into the passenger’s seat. “Oookay…sure.” I mumble, turn the radio on as she backs us out of the drive way, passing a very youthful Jouncie on the way.

I step out of the Los Angeles International Airport and onto the sidewalk waiting outside. Stepping closer to the curb, I attempt to hail a cab. A few moments later a taxi pulls up and I quickly stuff my bags into the trunk. I slide into the fairly clean backseat and nod a hello to the cab driver.

“The Kyoto Hotel, please.” The man grunts a reply and I turn my attention to the “scenery” outside. I sigh, daydreaming as I stare blindly out the window at the cars whizzing by. The interior of the cab is a tan speckled fabric and the smell of Fabreeze is everywhere. About twenty-five minutes later I find myself paying the cab driver and climbing out onto the sidewalk outside of the hotel. “Thank you,” I state, closing the door behind me and taking a few moments to grab my bags from the trunk.

I drag them inside, taking in my surroundings on the way. The lighting is soft and the wood flooring dark under my clicking heels as I make my way to the receptionist behind a counter in the center of the lobby.

“Hi.” I say, setting my purse on the counter, looking intently at the woman standing there.

She looks up, a warm smile on her lips. “Hello. How may I help you?”

“Umm…I’m Tabby Knapp. I work for The Rolling Stone. I’m supposed to have a room,” I articulate, setting my elbows on the marble counter and crossing my arms.

She types something into the computer perched on the second counter in front of her. “Tabatha?” She questions, looking up at me. I nod and she looks back down at the computer. “Okay, yes, you do have a room reserved. Just let me get you the key.” With that, she wanders into a back room.

I straighten out, looking around the lobby and listening to the soft chatter going on around me. Most of the lobby’s floor is covered in hotel carpet, the kind that has some pleasing design on it with some pleasing color. All of the accents are a dark wood and green plants stand in most of the corners. The glass doors to the outside world open with a whoosh and a crisp breeze blows in. I turn back to the counter, waiting for the young lady to come back. I sense someone come up behind me and I impulsively ruffle my hair.

“Here you go Ms. Knapp.” The woman says, walking out from behind the wall separating the lobby and the backroom.

“Tabby,” I correct, taking the brochure and card, “Thank you.” I smile at her, swinging my purse over my shoulder. She nods, looking past me at the new customer, already moved on.

“Tabby?” a female voice questions from my side. I turn to look at a blonde that seems somehow familiar.

“Yes?” I answer, shaking her raised hand, moving out of the way of whoever is behind me.

“I’m Dunja, Tokio Hotel’s PR.” She smiles softly, letting go of my hand, her German accent thick.

“Oh!” I exclaim, turning to find the boys standing behind me. Georg is handling getting the room keys, Tom standing beside him, adding his two cents.

Bill and Gustav are standing back, bantering back and forth in German about something random. I turn my attention back to Dunja and smile. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

She smiles back and nods. “So you’re giving the interview.” This last comment catches all four boys’ attentions. I smile sheepishly and shrug.