by Tracey Ward
“That’s lunch, everyone!” Danny calls, clapping me on the shoulder. “Let’s thank Ryker for his time today. He made a special point to be here with us this morning since we only have another week until we head to Washington for the show. Oh, speaking of,” he continues before anyone can speak, “we have your plane tickets. I’ll hold onto them for you, but grab a flier off the table with your flight information on them. Be at the airport early, people! No screw ups. We can’t spare to lose anyone in transit. If you miss your flight, pack yourself UPS and get your ass there, you hear me?”
They all laugh, agreeing in a round of murmurs as they make their way to the table for a flier. I grab a towel, timing my steps so I can slide in front of Greer to block her path. She smiles up at me, immediately bringing a smile to my own face.
“You were on point in that last number,” I tell her proudly.
She blushes, sexy and sweet. “Thank you.”
“You’ve been practicing.”
“Day and night. In the subway. On the sidewalk.” She lowers her voice and her eyes, caressing my lips with her gaze. “In the shower.”
I groan quietly in the back of my throat, my hands gripping the towel hard. “My hotel has a huge shower. Have I mentioned that?”
“You haven’t.”
“Perfect for practicing.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“I hope you do.”
She giggles slightly, cocking her head up at me. Her long hair tumbles over her shoulder, sliding over her breasts. “Are you going to be flying with us?”
I shake my head, reaching out to push her hair off her shoulder. To run my fingers down the back of her arm. “No. I have to head to California first to take care of some things. I’ll meet you there.”
“You’re flying private, aren’t you?”
I smirk. “It’s the only way to fly.”
“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never flown before.”
“Except for in your UFO. ‘Cause you’re an alien.”
“Shut up,” she chuckles.
I step closer, playing with fire and feeling its heat radiating from her body. “I wish I could fly with you. I’d love to be there for your first time.”
“Would you hold my hand at take off? Give me your peanuts?”
“Give you my what?”
She smiles. “Pea-nuts,” she pronounces carefully.
“Sorry, I thought you asked for something else.”
“I just bet you did.”
I grin. “I’d even buy you headphones.”
“Easy, money bags. You’ll spoil me and I’ll be ruined for life.”
“What if I want to ruin you?” I lean in closer, our faces almost touching. All subtly shot straight out the window. “What if I want to destroy you?”
Her face falls serious, her eyes going guarded in that tight way they do when she’s scared. When I’ve found the edge of her boundaries and she warns me to back off.
“You easily could,” she breathes.
“You’re still scared of me, aren’t you?”
“I’m not afraid.”
“You don’t trust me.”
She blinks hard, hiding her eyes. “I don’t trust many people. It’s not about you.”
“Why?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
I roll my jaw, trying to ease the tension building there. This frustration I feel whenever we get to this place, it’s not something I enjoy. It’s the only feeling she gives me that I could do without. “You don’t want to lie to me, you mean.”
“Yeah.”
“You’re hiding something.”
“Everybody is.”
I step back, wrapping the towel around my hand tightly. “You ever gonna tell me what it is?”
Greer laughs nervously, the sound airy and fake as shit. “We’ve known each other for like, three weeks.”
“So what?”
“My life doesn’t move as fast as yours. Three weeks isn’t that long.”
“How long do you need?”
She glances around nervously. No one is in earshot. “Let’s just do the show and see where we’re at when it’s done, okay?”
I nod my head, looking down at the towel in my hand. I’ve wrapped it around my fingers too tightly. They’re white, the blood-deprived tips going numb. “I’m honest with you, you know that? I don’t lie to you. I don’t hide anything from you.”
“Thank you.”
I laugh, short and hard. “That wasn’t what you were supposed to say.”
“What was I supposed to say?”
“That you want to be honest with me too.”
“I do. I want to, but I—”
“You’re scared. No, I get it.” I raise my hands, releasing the towel and the tension. I take a step away from her. “I’ll back off.”
She smiles softly, genuinely. She retakes that step. “I don’t want you to back off too far.”
I grin. “You just want me for my body, don’t you?”
“It’s a good body.”
“You haven’t even seen the best parts.”
Her smile becomes bold. Lascivious. “I can’t wait.”
“You don’t have to. There’s a bathroom just down the hall that—”
“Washington.”
I hesitate, not sure I understand her right. “What about Washington?”
“When we get to Washington,” she tells me seriously, “I want to see it. All of it.”
I feel my blood rising at the thought. “Are you sure?”
Greer nods, her face glowing pink. “I’m sure. Will you be ready?”
“Fuck, I’m ready right now.”
She smiles sweetly. “I’ll see you in Washington.”
I swallow thickly, watching her turn and walk away, her ass winking at me with each step. “Yeah,” I call after her, my voice rough with excitement. “I’ll see you in Washington.”
I’ve been indifferent about this homecoming shit from the start. It’s stupid. It’s not going to work. My reputation will not be healed, my career will not be righted, but right now as I watch the promise of Greer Madsen walking away from me, that tight little body and big, bold smile waiting for me on the other side, I think this tour is the best fucking idea I’ve ever heard in my life.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Greer
I imagined that flying would be thrilling. Something euphoric and exciting, almost life altering.
It’s not.
I vomited twice before we even finished the initial climb. Cam gave up his air sickness bag to me after I filled my own. A worried looking stewardess was quick to score me three more, just in case. Everyone is eyeing me with caution, worried every time I point my head in their direction. Like I’m a geyser about to burst. I don’t blame them. I’m worried too. Worried we’ll never land and I’ll be in this hell for the rest of my life.
“I hate flying,” I mutter thickly. I let my head drop back against the seat, staring up at the light shifting across the domed ceiling. The movement makes me sick. My stomach rolls unhappily, threatening another eruption. I close my eyes, swallowing it down as much as I can.
“Uh oh,” Cam whisper.
“What? Is there another rough patch ahead?”
“How would I know that?”
“I don’t know.” I lick my lips, tasting dry bile. “I don’t know how any of this works. How are you not dying?”
“My first time on a plane was an eight hour flight to France when I was four. I’ve been conditioned to it.”
“Why were you going to France?”
“I don’t know. For baguettes?”
“Fuck you.”
“What for?” Cam chuckles.
“For being cool with flying. For growing up with money. For liking baguettes.”
“You sound bitter.”
“I feel like dog shit,” I remind him sharply. “I’m all bitterness.”
“Well, it’s about to get worse. Keep your eyes clo
sed for the next few minutes.”
“Why?”
“Because the stewardesses are coming around with warm cookies.”
My stomach lurches violently. “No!”
“They look gooey.”
“Shut up!”
“Sorry.”
I reach out blindly, gripping Cam’s hand. At least I hope it’s his hand. “Please don’t get one.”
“Oh.” He sounds surprised. And unwilling. “Yeah. Okay.”
“And try not to sound so sad about it.”
He hesitates. “They look really good though.”
“Cam. No.”
“You’ll have your eyes closed.”
“I can’t have one near me.”
“I won’t let you see it.”
I tighten my hold on his hand. “I will smell it and I will vomit in your face. Do you understand me?”
He doesn’t answer. The sickening sweet smell of sugar gets closer. Stronger.
“Cam?”
“They’re gone,” he tells me unhappily. “I waved them by. I didn’t get one.”
I relax slightly. “You’re a good friend.”
“I hate you a little right now.”
“That’s okay.” I release his hand to take hold of my puke bag. “I hate everything right now.”
Five minutes later – or ten years, depending on the state of your stomach – I feel someone stop in the aisle next to me.
“No cookies!” I cry frantically.
“Ma’am,” the woman replies calmly. “It’s not food. I promise.”
I hesitate before peeking up at her. She’s beautiful and brunette with perfectly smooth hair pulled back in a bun. Her lips are painted red, smiling patient and practiced.
“Not feeling well?” she asks sympathetically.
I feel like crying. It’s pathetic. “I’m not great.”
“I’ll get you a water or a ginger ale if you think you can stomach it. I can get you some stale crackers too. To settle your stomach.”
“Ginger ale, please.”
“Okay. And I have this for you. It was purchased with your ticket.” She hands me a small, black card. It’s plastic, like a credit card, but there are no logos on it. No names. Only a series of numbers and a magnetic strip along the back.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll be right back with your drink,” she promises, disappearing quickly.
I turn the card over in my hand. I have no idea what to do with it.
“Do you know what it is?” Cam asks.
I shake my head loosely. Cam takes the card from me.
“It’s a calling card.” He lifts up the phone on the back of the seat in front of me, swiping the card through a slot in the side.
“Who am I supposed to call?”
He smirks at me sideways. “You’re really asking me that?”
“You think it’s from Jace?”
“Who else?”
I glance around slowly. “Did everyone get one?”
“You think he wants everyone to call him? Do you think any of us have his private cell number but you?”
“I don’t know,” I lie uselessly.
Cam snorts. “Get real, Greer. Here.”
He hands me the phone piece. It lights up with a bright blue glow that pierces my burning eyes. I’ve got a headache building on top of everything else and I wonder if I’m really just motion sick. I might be getting sick sick, a thought that makes me cringe unhappily.
“Try not to look at it like I’m handing you a weapon,” Cam warns, pushing the unit into my hand.
“It’s okay for me to use this right now? I won’t bring the plane down?”
“It doesn’t work like that. You’ll be fine.”
Cam pulls on a pair of headphones hooked to his phone, immediately tapping out to give me privacy. Everyone else on the plane is allowed to listen in, and I try to remember that as I gingerly lower my barf bag. I’ll have to be careful not to use Jace’s name as I talk to him.
I think about asking Cam if I need to dial a 9 or something to get an outside line, but it sounds stupid even to me so I don’t. I dial Jace’s number from memory.
It takes forever to ring, but when it does, it only manages two before he answers.
“Hey, beautiful,” Jace’s voice sings roughly through the receiver. It’s low and intimate, immediately making me warm inside. Soft and gooey like those cookies.
My stomach churns angrily like a hive of hornets on acid. I press my head on the seat in front of me.
“I’m not feeling especially beautiful at the moment.”
“Impossible.”
“I puked.”
“Uh-oh.” He pauses, a scratching sound muffling the line. “How bad are you feeling?”
“Bad. I did it twice already and we’ve only just leveled off.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry, baby,” he mumbles consolingly, his voice rich with concern. It’s a tone I’ve never heard him use before, the term of endearment jarring in this context. He’s only ever called me ‘baby’ when we’re on the phone. When he’s telling me how hard his dick is. How sweet my pussy tastes. To hear it now in this context, it runs over my body like warm water, soothing the aches building under my skin.
“Where are you?” I ask. “Are you still in L.A.?”
“Actually, I’m not sure. Somewhere over Oregon. That’s all I know.”
“You’re flying?”
“Yep.”
“And you’re not throwing up?”
He chuckles softly. “Not even once, no.”
I groan in jealous misery. “How do you people do it?”
“I fly private. It’s smoother.”
“Yeah, I bet. You have a bed, don’t you?”
“Not today, no. Short flight.” The line scratches again. It’s him moving, probably changing seats to get away from the ears listening around him. Must be nice. “And I wouldn’t want to miss the view. We’re flying over the mountains now.”
“I’ve never seen mountains in real life before.”
“Really? Never?”
“I’ve never left the city before today.”
“You’re gonna like them. They’re beautiful.”
“I hope I’m still alive when we fly over them.”
“Me too,” he chuckles. “You should see them up close. You have to stand on one and look out over a valley. There’s nothing like it.”
“I’ll do that someday.”
“I’ll do it with you,” he promises.
I smile into the phone, not knowing what to say or really how to feel. He’s been careful with me lately, determined to stay true to his word about everything. If he says he’s going to call, he calls. If he can’t, he texts to let me know. But more often than not, he follows through, even if it’s just for a minute. It’s the highlight of my day when I hear his voice the way I do right now; quiet and reserved. Laughing lightly. I’m enjoying it more than I should. We’re coming up on the end of our time together and I have no idea what’s on the other side of it. He’s tried to talk about it but I won’t let him. I’m too afraid of what he’ll say. I’m scared more now than ever before, because in the beginning I wanted something I didn’t think I could have. Now I have something I don’t think I can stand to lose.
“Are you still there?” he asks.
I force a smile, willing it into my voice for him. “Yeah, I’m here.”
“Are you puking?”
I laugh. “No. I’m not puking. Not right now.”
“What are you doing?”
I sigh, closing my eyes. “I’m thinking.”
“About me?” he asks bluntly, because the man is not shy. About anything. I’ve learned that from countless conversations in the dark, late at night when the world is asleep and his mind is just waking up. Just getting creative.
“Yes.”
“Good, because I can’t stop thinking about you.”
I feel my face flush hot. My heart skips a beat in my chest. “You’re thinking about the stairwell, aren’t you?”
“I’m thinking about how you’re going to look on that stage,” he replies earnestly. “You were made for performing. You should never be out of the spotlight.”
My stomach flips anxiously, eager for him. It sucks because it immediately turns ugly. I grab my bag tightly in my free hand.
“When will you get there?” I ask, changing the subject to take my mind off my tightening throat.
“Soon. Way before you.”
“Not fair.”
“That’s life, babe.”
“Yeah, I’ve noticed that.”
The stewardess comes back with my ginger ale. She hands it to me with a small smile and a supportive squeeze of my wrist. I want to cry on her shoulder and be her best friend. That’s how messed up and emotional I am right now. It’s fucked. I should not be talking to Jace when I’m feeling like this. I’m too raw right now. Too vulnerable.
“I’ve gotta go,” I grunt, sitting back in my seat. “They brought me some ginger ale and I think I should drink it.”
“Ask for a sedative. Sleeping will help.”
“I don’t think they hand out drugs on this flight.”
“Seriously? I don’t know. I’ve never flown commercial. That’s lame, though. Is there a comment card? Write that in for me.”
“‘You’re lame for not handing out drugs’,” I parrot obediently. “Got it. Will do.”
“Be the change, Greer. That’s how shit gets done.”
“I’m hanging up now.”
“I miss you already.”
I purse my lips together tightly. I don’t know if he’s kidding or not, but his words strike a chord in me. It’s a poignant note. It’s too true, too real to handle. “Yeah, me too.”
He snorts. “This is why I’m the songwriter and you’re the dancer.”
I smile, shaking my weary head. “I miss you too.”
“Was that so hard?”
“Harder than you know.”
He hesitates. “I’ll see you soon, babe. Take care of you.”
