After talking about movies and books for almost two hours, Rose drifts off to sleep around hour three of the flight. I’m disappointed to not have her attention, but I know she’s tired from her late night and then being scared of flying. As for me, I’m antsy the closer we get to Dallas and my father. I need a hit of something . . . anything.
Heidi walks by a few times, her eyes eating me up like I’m her last meal. I mostly ignore her, except to order a double shot of tequila. She’s like the usual girls I see at shows . . . flirty and ready for anything. I fuck a lot of them. It’s what I do.
But Rose . . . she’s different.
Heidi returns with my drink and then leans down and whispers in my ear, “Wanna meet me in the bathroom at the back of the plane? You go in first, and I’ll follow.”
My gut says hell no, don’t do it, but my brain . . . it needs something to shut it up.
She straightens up and bats her lashes at me. “Five minutes?”
I flick my eyes down to Rose and pause for a second, but then I turn back to Heidi and give her a short nod.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m feeling warm from the alcohol, but I still haven’t left my seat.
Heidi walks by me again and sends me a lingering look. Fuck me, please, her eyes say.
I don’t want her, not really. I want oblivion, yes, but that’s different.
I want to stay right here with Rose.
And that’s a huge fucking mistake.
Rule #1: Don’t get your heart involved.
Why bother when people always leave anyway?
And with that thought in mind, I unbuckle and walk to the back.
I ease into the cramped, antiseptic-smelling bathroom and open the skull face on my sterling silver ring, revealing the white powder inside. I tap out a bump on the side of my hand and sniff it, the burn hitting me hard.
Yeah.
That’s it.
Mixed with the tequila . . . everything’s gonna be okay.
I hear the knock at the door and open it. She slithers in, smelling like a perfume counter at the mall and nothing like honey and vanilla. I don’t let our eyes meet, and I don’t kiss her on the mouth.
But something doesn’t feel right.
She must sense my hesitation because she unsnaps my jeans in a rush, whispering where to put my arms and legs to maximize the space. It only takes six minutes, tops, both of us reaching a new kind of high at thirty thousand feet. It fills my emptiness for a few moments, makes me forget there’s a nice girl out there sitting in the seat next to mine, and for a moment, I almost let her in.
I finish and walk out of the toilet. She follows.
I won’t recall her name. I never want to.
Rose
THE FLIGHT ATTENDANT FLOUNCES PAST me with a gloating expression on her face, and I’m ready to pluck every hair out of her head. My hands clench around my seat.
How could he be with her? After kissing me?
Maybe I’m wrong.
Maybe they just went to talk.
Yeah right, Rose. Don’t be an idiot.
An image of him with her dances around in my head as anger churns in my gut.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” he calls out exuberantly as he slides back into his seat and buckles back up. “Looks like we’re about to descend.” I notice there’s a flush to his face as he drums his fingers on his knees erratically. “You missed the fellow in 13B who snored so loud I thought I might have to stuff a sock down his throat. Crazy.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Are you okay?” he asks, spearing me with a look before dropping my gaze.
I narrow my eyes, studying him. “Are you?”
His eyes bounce back to mine. “I’m fine. More than fine. I’m stoked and ready to deal with Dallas.”
I don’t know what that means, and I don’t ask. I’m too mad to care what he’s going to be doing in Dallas. I hope I never see him again.
“How was Heidi?” I say, keeping my face carefully composed even though I want to smack him.
He pales and opens his mouth to say something, but then compresses his lips and looks down at his hands. His index finger traces the lines of the LOST tattoo.
“Did you really have sex with her?” I was holding out hope that I was wrong.
He nods.
Disappointment slams into my chest, hurting more than it should have for a guy that I just met. “You’re an asshole.”
He swallows, talking fast. “I know, but nothing was going to happen between us. You’re too nice for me and obviously we’ll never see each other again, and trust me, if we had hooked up, I wouldn’t have called you the next day and asked you out on a date. I don’t do that—ever.”
“No need to explain to me. I’m not jealous,” I snap. “I feel sorry for you.” I shove his jacket at him.
He puts it on slowly, his eyes still studying me, and even though I refuse to look back, my entire body feels the intensity of his gaze, as if I were under a microscope.
“Rose, look, it didn’t mean anything. Sex never means anything with me.”
“Nice to know you’re such a slut.” I ball my fists up.
Why did I let him affect me like this?
Because you’d liked him.
In the periphery of my gaze, I see him rub his face, his hands scrubbing at the dark shadow on his face.
“I didn’t even kiss her—I don’t ever kiss them.” He doesn’t say the words to my face, but rather at the seat in front of him.
I ignore him and stare out the window.
The plane begins its descent. Normally I’d be clinging to the seat, my heart in my throat, but I’m too revved up.
“I always screw shit up,” he mutters.
We come to a halt on the landing strip and he shoots up as soon as we can, making his way to Heidi, who hands him his guitar and a piece of paper.
Probably with her phone number on it.
I hate to break it to her, but he won’t be calling.
He sends a look back over his shoulder at me and my eyes blaze at him, even as my throat tightens.
I feel stupid.
Na?ve.
At the exit, he turns around one more time, and his eyes meet mine as he tosses a tentative hand up as if to say goodbye.
I give him a one-finger salute.
He disappears from my view just as my phone buzzes with a text from Anne.
Robert and I are waiting for you downstairs next to baggage claim. We have a surprise for you. ? Love you bunches! Anne
Pushing down my anger at Spider, I groan. I hate Anne’s surprises. Last year it was a drive to Tin Town to see my old house and neighborhood. She said it was because she wanted me to see how far I’ve come, but mostly I just felt sick, remembering Lyle and Mama. I hate Tin Town and what it took from me, yet it’s who I am, and somehow I don’t think I can ever outrun that.
What’s going on? I respond.
You get to meet your new stepbrother today.
Oh. I frown, already in a shit mood. I can’t recall Anne even telling me Robert Wainwright had a son.