And I said, “Okay. I’ll tell Nicky that I need the time off tonight.”
He rolled on top of me then, and we made slow, passionate love. And no matter how much I tried to fight it, that afternoon I ended up whispering, “I love you, I love you, I love you” every time I came.
. . .
As soon as I got into my car after leaving James and promising him that I’d go to New York, I hit up Russell, who was now a staff editor at Celeb Weekly, on my cell.
“Please tell me you have something for me. It’s slower than fucking death here, girl. The celebrities ain’t doing nothing.” This is how he answered the phone, in lieu of a greeting, even though it had been years since I had given him a story.
“I need a favor,” I said.
“Does this favor come with a story?”
“Unfortunately, no.” I considered Russell a good friend, but the last thing I needed was him reporting that the main Farrell scion was dating me, so I lied. “Nicky’s trying to get me to do this jazz club owner convention in Vegas next month.”
“In August? Ew, it’s too hot then. It’s like one hundred and twenty on a good day.”
“Exactly, but he’s got it into his mind that we should be making contacts out there, because he’s thinking of opening another branch, off the Strip. And I agree that a Nicky’s might work well out in Vegas, I just need him to wait until it cools off to send me out there. But you know Nicky never listens to me.”
“Girl, who do he listen to? Don’t worry, I got you. What weekend is the convention?”
Russell arranged everything within the hour. And that night I was able to call James and truthfully tell him that I tried to get the days off, but that Celeb Weekly had just told Nicky that they were sending around a reporter to do a “hotspot” review, so now I had to stay in Los Angeles that weekend.
James was disappointed, but being in marketing, he understood.
It also helped that when it came time for him to leave for New York, I kept him company in the backseat as Paul drove him to the airport. I promised him that I’d also come back with Paul to pick him up.
And I was glad that I did, because even though he was only gone four days, I missed him like a big dog.
When I had been with Nicky, I had never understood just how badly it felt to be away from someone you truly loved, because:
1. Nicky was a workaholic, so he never went anywhere. And
2. The few hours that I did manage to spend away from Nicky always seemed like little treasures of time for myself.
So with my limited experience, I wasn’t prepared to miss James as I did. We called each other every day and talked for rushed minutes about nothing but loving and missing each other.
By the time four days had passed, and Paul had pulled up in front of the club to take me to LAX, I was wild for him. And though I knew backseat sex was tacky, if James was feeling half as horny as I was, I didn’t think we’d be able to make it all the way home to his house without clothes coming off.
Paul and I waited for him outside the baggage claim area, clustered together with all the family members and car service drivers anticipating the arrival of the 3:45 from New York.
James, having flown first-class, was one of the first passengers off the plane. And I don’t know what came over me, but when I saw him walk off that escalator in a pair of jeans and a short-sleeved green polo, looking just like he used to in high school, I couldn’t do anything less than run and throw myself into his arms. I even managed to negotiate the knee-length blue skirt that I was wearing with today’s Strokes T-shirt so that I could wrap my legs around his waist.
I kissed him all over his face, saying, “I missed you, baby. I missed you!” over and over again while he laughed and held me tight and said, “I missed you, too.”
I hugged him and rested my head on his shoulder, thinking there was truly no other place on the planet that I would rather be than in this poorly lit airport being held in this man’s loving arms.