Grounded (Up In The Air #3)

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Mr. Domesticated

The issue of the sex tape still ran rampant through the headlines, but as far as James and I were concerned, it was old news. We had moved on. I took that as an encouraging sign. We were good together. We hashed things out and they were settled, instead of coming up again and again, like they seemed to in so many toxic relationships that I’d observed.

That Friday marked our last New York layover. The crew wanted to go out, of course, but James wanted to have a late lunch with his friends Parker and Sophia. I didn’t see why we couldn’t do both.

Sophia met us at the door to their luxury apartment, a wriggling child in her arms. I thought it was a boy, though his hair was kind of long, and his face was so pretty that it was hard to tell at a glance.

James swung the child from her arms and up onto his shoulders without a word. “This is Elliot,” he told me with his most charming smile. “Elliot, this is Bianca. Say nice to meet you, Bianca.”


I smiled up at the pretty boy. He had raven black hair like his father, but with his mother’s adorable curls, and slate gray eyes that studied me intently. “Nishe to meet you, Banca,” he said with a nod. He hugged the top of James’s head, rubbing his cheek against that dark golden hair. “I mish’d you, Jamesh.”

James reached up and tickled the little boy’s knee. Elliot curled tighter against him, dissolving into helpless giggles.

Parker cooked for us all, which I found charming. I knew he was important in the business world, the heir to his family’s lucrative business empire, but you wouldn’t know it by the way he cooked for and served us all.

He and Sophia were clearly madly in love. It was something you could tell just from the way that they looked at each other. They acted like newlyweds, though they’d been married for years.

We stayed for hours, talking and playing with Elliot. James was wonderful with him, rolling around with him on the carpet like he was a child himself.

It wasn’t that I didn’t like kids. I thought little Elliot was to die for cute. I just didn’t think that I was suited to have them myself. I had too many dark thoughts and fears about life that I didn’t think normal people dealt with, and I didn’t want to pass my own twisted baggage onto another generation.

I really liked Parker and Sophia. They seemed genuinely nice, and they really seemed to care about James. I also found it particularly encouraging that the decent people in his life were now outnumbering the crazy bitches.

I was troubled as we left, though. Seeing James interact with Elliot had only made it clearer that he wanted his own children.

“James, I’m not sure that being a mother is something I’m suited fo—“

He pulled me against him, covering my mouth with his hand. He softened the gesture by kissing the top of my head. He murmured into my ear just before the elevator door opened. “It doesn’t matter, Love. We have all the time in the world to decide, and I’ll let the decision be yours alone. I can’t live without you. That’s all there is to say about it.”

I wished it was so simple, but he obviously wanted children. The thought of being the only thing that kept him from being a father filled me with guilt. I didn’t know if I could be that selfish.

The crazy celebration at Red later that night was just what I needed to snap me out of that kind of thinking. Everyone was in good spirits. Our crew, sans Melissa, was there to see Stephan and I off, since we were the only ones taking the furlough right away, and they all toasted us and wished us well, and made us feel good in general, but sad to be leaving such a fun group of people. Still, none of it gave me second thoughts. I knew that what I was doing just made the most sense for me, all things considered.

The end of my career as a flight attendant was strangely anti-climactic. I worked my last turn on Sunday, and then on Monday, I went from being a full-time flight attendant to being a full-time aspiring painter. It was daunting, but exhilarating.

Stephan and Javier ended up taking the furlough as well, thanks to the rare opportunity they were getting to open their own bar in one of the strip’s hottest casinos. They had plenty of work ahead of them, but not many people got the funding they did, no questions asked. We were all grateful to James for doing something so life-changing for them.

We went to L.A. the night before the gallery showing, staying at the Cavendish Resort property there, which was conveniently located next door to the Cavendish Gallery.

I got a preview of the gallery that night, and I was floored by the wonders Danika had worked. My paintings were shown at their best, the frames exquisite, the lighting in every room just perfect, the paintings grouped together by color, displayed to complement each other in the best way possible.

Danika gave us a tour of the gallery, every room displaying my paintings. I felt the need to hug the woman when we finished, grateful and in awe of what she’d done with my work.

I felt nervous anxiety course through me at even the thought of the event, but it turned out to be a pleasant evening. I had already determined that I wouldn’t read any of the negative reviews about my work. No one was more critical of my work than I was, and I knew it would just wreak havoc on my creativity to obsess about the negative, so I enjoyed the event for what it was; an evening of meeting new people, and a chance to see some friendly faces.

I wore a dark gray halter dress that I felt flattered my figure, and James wore a matching tux with a light blue tie.

James stayed on my arm for the entire evening, the perfect, attentive escort. And of course, the most expensive arm candy on the face of the earth.

I even sold some paintings, which I’d thought was highly unlikely when I saw how they’d been priced. Some of the larger ones had gone for over fifty thousand dollars. It surprised me so much that I was a little in shock when Danika gave me the news. She catalogued every single painting sold for me, telling me who had purchased what and for how much.

She hugged me, beaming. She had become the biggest cheerleader for my work, and I was so grateful for that. She was a steady kind of woman, and so obviously one of substance, with clout in the art world. Having someone like that back my work with such sincerity was a confidence booster that I needed in a very fundamental way at this stage in my career. James and Stephan were fans of my work, but having a professional supporting my work, someone who wasn’t my best friend or my boyfriend, was a boon that I wouldn’t soon forget.

Some of the much smaller paintings sold for around the ten thousand dollar mark. Danika informed us of this with a disclaimer, “This is only because this is your first show. At the next one your work will earn bigger price tags; I guarantee it. You’ll see numbers at least double or triple what we’re seeing tonight.” This floored me. I had thought that the prices were over the top for this one…

Frankie was there. She had Tristan, and her girlfriend, Estella, in tow, as threatened. I recalled Tristan’s description of Estella as a little Latin fireball, and I knew within moments of meeting Estella that it was apt. She had thick, wavy black hair that fell nearly to her waist, an hourglass body that wouldn’t quit, and a sassy attitude that was fun, flirtatious, and over the top. She and Frankie had visible chemistry, sharing telling looks and comments that could have made even James blush.

Tristan, Frankie, and Estella hit it off with Stephan and Javier, and the five of them spent a lot of the evening talking and laughing, making the entire event more fun.

We observed one of those volatile moments when Danika and Tristan shared the same air, just in passing, and it was as intense as the first time we’d seen it. James and I shared a look when Danika took her stiff, polite leave of him. As much as Danika may have wanted it to be different, there were still strong feelings between those two. But baggage could be a powerful thing, and feelings weren’t always enough.

I had invited my half-brother, Sven and his girlfriend, Adele, and I was flattered and pleased that they were able to make it.

Adele looked like a model, with the right height and build, but not the over the top beautiful kind. She was no Lana. She had the sort of nondescript good looks that probably got her a lot of work, since it made her more versatile. Her hair was light brown, hanging straight to her shoulders, her eyes a nice, soft brown.

She had a sweet smile, and she was very present, like she was happy to be just where she was. I liked her. When Sven had said he was dating a model, I had pictured the vacant-eyed, narcissistic type, and Adele far exceeded my expectations, unfair as they may have been.

Blake and company weren’t shadowing my every step, since the guest list was very exclusive, and they were guarding the entrances and exits doggedly. I thought it was nice to be able to go to the bathroom without having a shadow, although James did close to the same thing, walking me down the hallway to the gallery’s restroom, and waiting for me diligently in the nearest showing room.

I was finishing when the bathroom door opened and closed, then opened again.

“Now you’re following me?” an agitated female voice asked.

I recognized it instantly as Danika.

“If that’s the only way you’ll talk to me, then yes,” a man answered.

I recognized that deep, gravelly voice, as well. It was Tristan.

“We have nothing to talk abo—“ Danika began.

“I still think about you every single day,” Tristan interrupted harshly. “Let’s talk about that.”

I held perfectly still, now officially eavesdropping from inside of a bathroom stall.

“Oh, please. Take your guilt and get the f*ck away from me, Tristan. I want nothing to do with it.”

“The guilt isn’t what I was talking about,” he said, his voice low and raw. “It’s you I think about. Always you.”

She snorted inelegantly. It was very un-Danika-like. “Please! You stopped trying to call me years ago. I haven’t heard a word from you since right after rehab, when you went on your repentance tour.”

“I didn’t trust myself, Danika. I needed my sobriety. I’m nothing without it, and you were a lovely trigger for me. That look in your eyes, after all that I’d done… The way you looked at me like I was scum, and knowing that I deserved all of your antipathy. I knew that if you looked at me like that again, I’d hit rock bottom, and this time I wouldn’t come back from it.”

“I’m with someone, Tristan,” she said brusquely.

“And if you weren’t? Would you be willing to talk to me—to spend time with me, if you weren’t with someone?”

“No! Bad things happen when we get together, Tristan. You and I are nothing but trouble. Time hasn’t changed that. Please, just stay away from me.”

I heard movement and then Tristan’s agonized whisper, “Danika, I’m so sorry. I’ll never stop missing you. You were my best friend. Can you ever forgive me for what I did?”

Danika’s answer was quick, sure and final. “I forgave you a long time ago, Tristan, but I will never forget. Please keep your distance.”

The door opened and closed. Twice. I waited a few more minutes before coming out, feeling guilty for being so nosy. I should have said something the second I heard them talking, but instead, to spare us all an awkward moment, and yes, because I was curious, I’d overheard that painful and personal exchange.

I compounded my sins by immediately telling James what I’d heard. I wanted to hear his take on it.

His brow furrowed and he shook his head. “I really don’t know what happened between them. Frankie is close friends with both of them, but even she won’t talk about it. I assume they used to date, because Tristan is so obviously in love with her, but even that is speculation on my part. And I know that he had something to do with the injury that gave her that limp, but that’s all. I don’t know what caused that injury, or what his part was in it. He just mentioned to me once that Danika used to be an amazing dancer, and that he’d ruined it for her.”

“That’s awful,” I said.

He nodded. “Yes. There’s a lot of bad baggage there, but what he said to you at lunch the other day was actually the most I’ve heard him talk about it in one sitting. Neither of them are forthcoming about it. We’ll probably never know all of the ugly details.”


I knew that he was probably right.

“Do you mind if I go and check to see if he’s okay?” James asked.

“Not at all,” I reassured him, thinking that he was the sweetest, most thoughtful man in the world.

Danika approached me, looking more serious than she had for most of the night. Every time she had sought me out before, she had been beaming, ecstatic to give me the news of another sale.

“I’m sorry you had to hear that little exchange in the bathroom,” she said, meeting my eyes steadily.

I thought I must have blushed down to my toes. “I am so sorry about that.”

She waved me off. “It was hardly your fault. You were just using the restroom. But I saw your shoes under the stall, and I wanted to explain myself. I probably sounded like a cold bitch.”

I stopped her, holding my hand up. “You didn’t. I understand completely. Sometimes protecting your heart is the only way to keep your sanity.”

She nodded, her mouth firm. “Yes, exactly. I won’t get mixed up with him again, and I refuse to lead him on. When I was younger, and stupid, I thought that he was the most wonderful and exciting thing in the world. I fell crazy, stupid, jump off a cliff in love with him. It was like being in love with a tornado. And when he was done with me, I felt like I’d been in a tornado. It took me years to pick up all of the pieces he’d left me in, but I did it, and I won’t go back. These days I want stability in my life. I need it.”

I nodded. I could well understand that. When you’d been through hell, stability was heaven.

She seemed to see that she’d made her point. She patted me on the shoulder and walked away.

Blake had come to hover near me when James had gone to find Tristan. As on top of things as ever, she was able to direct me to him, as well.

He was outside, speaking to Frankie and Tristan in a private patio area. James had his back to the door, his hands in his pockets.

I approached the three of them tentatively, not wanting to intrude.

Tristan was sucking on a cigarette like his life depended on it, his eyes wide on Frankie as she threw her arms in the air and spoke to him in a low voice, obviously giving him a piece of her mind. He’d taken off his tuxedo jacket and loosened his tie. The crisp white sleeves of his tux were rolled up to reveal tatted up forearms. He’d played well at being clean cut for a few hours, but his bad boy had obviously broken back out.

Tristan saw me first. He exhaled. “Bianca, help me! Frankie is a little termagant. Please tell her that one cigarette is not going to kill me.”

James turned to look at me, his eyes warm as they ran over me. He snagged my arm as I came into reach, pulling my back to his front and kissing the top of my head.

One of Frankie’s tiny fingers poked into Tristan’s massive chest. “This is not about one cigarette. This is about having one short conversation with her, and picking up a habit you quit five years ago. You need to call your sponsor right this second!”

Tristan rolled his eyes, taking another long drag of the cigarette. “You know, nagging can be a trigger.”

“This isn’t a joke,” she fumed, sounding as much worried as mad. “I’m worried about you. You’re acting strange, and the first thing you tried to do was slip away by yourself. The last thing you need to do is be alone right now.”

“I’m not on suicide watch, Frankie. I’m smoking one f*cking cigarette and then I’ll go back in, k? If you’re that worried about me, maybe you and your girl should sleep with me tonight. I shouldn’t be alone in my big, huge, lonely bed.”

She threw her hands in the air. “Like you have any trouble finding bodies to warm that bed.”

“You said it yourself. I’m in a vulnerable place right now, and I should be surrounded by people I love. So come sleep with me, Frankie.”

She smacked him hard on the arm. “When is the ‘trying to get the lesbian to sleep with me’ bit going to get old? I would really love to know.”

He grinned, flashing deep dimples at her. He was putting on a good tough guy show, but he still looked like he was hurting. “You aren’t ’the lesbian’, you’re my favorite lesbian. And I was only talking about cuddling. Your dirty mind did the rest.”

She sighed, looking defeated. “Fine. I’ll come cuddle with you tonight if it means you won’t be alone. No hitting on my girlfriend, though.”

They made a funny pair. The top of her head barely reached his chest, and she was clearly unimpressed that he towered over her and weighed at least twice as much as she did.

Tristan finished his cigarette like it was the last one on earth, enjoying it to the last drag. He and Frankie headed back inside together, but James held me back from following them.

He cupped my face, smiling down at me. “Since I have you alone, I wanted to tell you something; I’m really proud of you. You already know that I’m your biggest fan, but I just wanted you to know that tonight was a huge accomplishment. I know you have yourself convinced that I did all of this for you, but it’s just not true. I set up the meeting. That was all. The second Danika saw your work she was smitten, and you would have had this showing with or without a connection to me. Those paintings sold because people wanted them, and found value in them. You have a talent that brings me to my knees. Thank you for sharing it with the world.”

“Thank you,” I told him simply, feeling my eyes get just a touch moist. The damned man made me so emotional. And he had a way with words that got me every time. “I love you to distraction, James.”

His eyes smiled into mine. “Yes. I love you like that. The world went from black and white and into color when I laid eyes on you, my love. There’ll be no going back.”

It was such a perfect moment that I had to beat back those evil doubts in my mind that told me something this perfect just had to come to a short, bad end. Life can just be good, I told myself. This bad feeling is not a premonition. Nothing bad will happen to us. I’d had to tell this to myself a lot lately.

Towards the end of the evening, Tristan bought my largest landscape and a smaller still-life. Frankie bought a painting as well. It was a watercolor of the fat cat from my yard. She said she was going to put it up in her tattoo shop for the world to see. She even harassed James that he should give her the portrait of me that had inspired the tattoo on his back. He took it well, which told me he’d forgiven her for the tattoo on my back.

Sven bought one of my small acrylic paintings of a desert flower.

I insisted repeatedly that he didn’t have to buy anything.

“I want to,” he told me firmly. “It would mean a lot to me to have something that you made hanging in my home, and I love this picture.”

“I’ll paint you something for free! You shouldn’t have to pay thirteen grand just for a reminder. It’s not too late to change your mind.”

He shook his head. “No. This is perfect. Though, if you ever want to paint me something, I certainly won’t dissuade you!”

It warmed me and embarrassed me a little that everyone was being so supportive.

As the night grew to a close, I felt giddy with the realization that I’d actually enjoyed myself. The evening had far exceeded my expectations. My nerves hadn’t allowed me to look forward to the launch of my new career, but I loved that I could look back on my debut with relief and pleasure. It was over, and it had actually been a success.

There was a small blemish on the evening, as we took our leave of the gallery.

The gallery was a large three-story building, set up in a trendy area and situated adjacent to the Cavendish L.A. hotel and sharing a back parking lot with that property. We exited out of the front, where we had entered. A small red carpet had been set up outside for photo ops prior to the event. A fairly polite crowd of photographers had snapped shots of us going in. A larger crowd had gathered by the time we left, very late into the evening. I was surprised they’d waited so long. And even stranger to me was the crowd of bystanders gathered behind them, just watching for our departure.

James maneuvered himself closer to the crowd, though there was a barricade that separated them. He threw an arm around my shoulders, his opposite hand moving to the diamond hoop attached to my choker.

We had made it maybe six steps when there was a collective gasp from the crowd, and I turned just in time to see Blake jump a few inches into the air and catch a large plastic cup in her hand mid-air. The lid of the thing flew off, and dark soda and ice went flying in every direction, but it was still an impressive catch. It had been aimed at either James, myself, or both, but not even a drop of it reached us. Blake was drenched. She looked unperturbed about her own wet shirt and face. She threw the cup on the ground and scanned the crowd, a very hostile look on her face.

It was as though the drink throwing had opened a floodgate. People began to shout lewd comments in our direction. I couldn’t make them all out, but the loudest comments seemed to be coming from women, and aimed at James.

“You are so f*cking hot!” a woman shrieked.

“With a dick that huge, you can spank me anytime!” another one shouted.

It was all so silly that a giggle escaped me as Clark ushered us into the limo. Blake followed us in.

“Good catch, Blake,” James said. “I’m giving you a raise for not letting a drop of that reach Bianca.”

She nodded solemnly. “Just doing my job, sir.”

Her response sobered me up a little, because I began to think about just what her job was. If it had been a bullet instead of a drink, she probably would have done the same thing. I hated that. I didn’t want to get hurt, but the thought of someone being harmed in my place seemed even worse to me.