Seven Minutes 'til Midnight

by Sunniva Dee

  Hmm.

  “Hailey, I’m one hundred percent sure that you’re safe on this plane. No one will assault you. Okay?” Troy says it with such empathy it’s like he believes this information is necessary. “There are people all around you. Your virtue is safe unless you decide to fake autographs one on one in the mile-high club. Sorry, I mean in the bathroom.”

  I’m seconds from laughing out loud. Focusing on the clouds outside, I don’t face them again until I have my expression under control.

  “No-o-o,” she whines sadly. It’s low and intimate. What the hell is she doing? “Please, please. I just can’t.” Her eyes are big when she arches them like this, as wide as she possibly can.

  She starts in on a blink. Maybe it’s to bat her lashes at him, but I’m wondering if she changed her mind midway through, because now she’s turning her mouth down in a pout instead. My God, the girl is dry-crying!

  “Shh, come on. It can’t be that bad?” Troy’s voice slinks upward with compassion, and he lifts the hand I just held to pat her hair—my hair. Oh wow, I think I’m getting a little bit upset, here.

  “I can’t promise anything, but let me check what’s available of seats.” Troy lifts a finger, and our flight attendant appears quicker than a genie.

  “Sir?”

  “I think we have a seating issue. Do you have anything vacant up here?”

  “In business class, sir?”

  “Yeah, well, wherever except in coach.”

  “I’ll have to check with my supervisor, sir.” The flight attendant gives Hailey a professional smile with absolutely no warmth before she turns to walk away.

  “Miss,” Troy calls out before she can leave. “Just let the band’s tour manager know, in eleven B, and he’ll take care of it on our end.”

  I’m feeling desperately ungenerous. She’s a spoiled kid—look what she got. Fifteen minutes into Hailey’s seating performance, she didn’t just get a business class seat—these pods are fantastic—but she was given one of six first class seats, and those things are freaking crazy. Sunk into the floor all the way at the front of the plane, her place is a small sanctuary. Troy and I can open our seats into twin beds, a totally comfortable sleeping arrangement, but what Hailey has reminds me of a miniature cruise-ship cabin. I mean, what the actual hell?

  First, there was some discussion as to which band member should move from business class to first class. None of the couples wanted to move, Troy didn’t want it, and I definitely wasn’t going to let Hailey take my seat. Her sticky fingers wouldn’t be running all over Troy if I could help it. The only other person from the band up front was Troll, and his ethic is too strong to let him separate from Emil and Bo while doing pre-production work.

  So yeah, that leaves my Halloween doppelganger in the situation she’s in right now. She actually called us from her luxury cabin and asked us over to visit. Because Troy is too nice, he accepted, and since he accepted, I sure as heck was going too.

  Now, we’re standing on the bridge that led us to business class when we boarded the plane. I hadn’t thought much about it then. I definitely do now as Hailey slowly, dramatically, retracts her curtain so we can look down at her in her luxurious wannabe cockpit.

  She holds up a remote, pointing it at me first, then at a lamp, and the light fades until it’s nice and dim. She finally uses the same remote on her twin-and-a-half-width armchair, and we watch it lean back into a bed.

  “Cheers!” she says, all playful and holding up a glass of champagne.

  “You good down there?” Troy says, chuckling.

  “I feel so much safer, now,” she says, pride fading in favor of her former role, damsel in distress. “You saved me, Troy.”

  “Cool,” I snap. “Guess we should get back to our seats?”

  “Yeah. Get some rest,” he tells her, and that sort of makes me seethe. The smile is still lingering on his face when we get back to our seats, and I can’t stand it for a second longer.

  “What’s so funny?”

  His grin broadens, beautiful eyes gleaming with humor. “She’s just so transparent. What does she take me for?”

  I let out a relieved breath. “Seriously. God, she getting on my nerves.”

  “She’s just immature. Such a little attention-seeker.” He smiles again, thumping his head against the backrest and facing me. And it’s all good, except that one word: “little.”

  “Do you think the way she acts is cute or something?” I ask.

  “What? No. It’s harmless, though. It’s like with my nieces at home. They’ll do anything for my attention too. They’re younger, of course. Charming.” He draws his shoulders up in a shrug, disturbing all three colors of tresses. “No big deal.”

  “Oh wow. You think crazy-town is charming.”

  “Naw, but she’s definitely grown on me since she started looking like you.” He slow-winks, but then I’m not sure if he’s teasing me, and I’m not his girlfriend—will never be—I’m fighting this, remember? I’m only pulled to him like a fucking magnet at every damn turn, and I can’t get away and don’t want to!

  I forge relaxed and lean into my own backrest, facing the screen in front of me. I hit buttons randomly, ending up with some Disney movie.

  “Hey.”

  “What?” I say too curtly. It’s almost like a bark, and that’s not how I meant it to come out.

  He slides a thumb over the back of my hand. It’s warm and nice. I pull my hand into my lap, being obvious.

  “You’re not jealous, are you?” The words roll off his tongue like melted chocolate and marshmallows, so smooth and sweet they make the hairs stand on my arms.

  “What? Of course not!” I even add a pff in an idiotic attempt at convincing him. If he laughs, I swear I’ll backhand him. I can only take so much. Hell, I’ve already had my share, and you know what? Attack’s the best defense.

  I jerk toward him, sending him a glare I have to force into submission; I know this man’s sense of humor, and no way would I live down a death glare. I take a few seconds to even my voice so my attack comes out as measured as I need it to be.

  “But: I’ve come to a realization,” I say.

  “You have?”

  “I have.” Okay, so I’m talking through gritted teeth.

  “And what kind of realization is that?”

  Discreetly, I unlock my jaw before replying, “That you’ve slept with Hailey.”

  I don’t like how the humor slowly vanishes from his features.

  It’s true, isn’t it?

  Wow.

  The times Hailey has called him darling. The times she’s acted too familiar with him. The insinuations she’s tossed out willy-nilly to fans. It all comes back to me. A tidal wave of jealousy rears in my chest, while a small part of me, the one not yet governed by the Drago Fuoc, knows I have no logical reason to feel this way.

  “Well, yes. She came onto me when she first got on tour. It was nothing.”

  I scoff. “Well, yes,” I mimic. “Clearly she thinks it was more than nothing. Not that it’s any of my business, but I’m guessing it was more than once too.” I keep his stare locked.

  He sighs, the air deflating from his lungs. “Aishe, do you really want to talk about this?”

  “Yeah, I do. She’s a nut job, and the more you know about the nut jobs in your midst, the better prepared you are.”

  “She’s not that bad.”

  “No? Really, Troy? That’s not what you said after the Boston thing. Have you forgotten that already, not to mention what she did at the merch stand?”

  “Okay.” He holds his hands up to stop me. “You’re right. She’s a nut job, but she’s also young and immature. She just turned twenty-one, and this is her first gig out of her dad’s house. Gotta give her some slack.”

  “Ha. Spoiled rich girl, I bet.” I manage to not spit the wo
rds out.

  “Something like that.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. Daddy’s the president of ‘Far Out.’”

  “The clothing brand?” I feel my mouth drop open.

  “Yeah, surfwear and boards, I guess. Huge. So yeah, she’s only worked for Daddy until now, and she’s learning to fly on her own. Let’s just say she’s hitting some turbulence.” He grins.

  “And you decided to sleep with her?” I can’t help the scorn in my voice.

  He sighs. “No, I didn’t decide to sleep with her. It just happened, okay? I was feeling like shit at the time, and she was sweet. She made it easy, was there after the concerts and just kind of ended up in my hotel rooms.”

  Troy’s eyebrows tic together in sudden confusion. They release again as his gaze returns to me. “Wait, why am I explaining myself? You weren’t with us at the time.”

  I can’t even answer that. I’m way unleashed by now, and the urge to get up and stomp around is overwhelming. This plane is too small for an epic, irrational fit, and it’s pissing me off. But he totally just pluralled me, and he’s not getting out of this one.

  “You just admitted that she was there for you after the concerts-s-s-s. As in plural. That sounds like a hell of a lot of times, Troy, and if that’s the case, it explains how she’s been with me this whole time. She thinks she has a claim to you.”

  He lowers his seat until it’s flat. With all the patience I don’t have, he turns himself on the side and accommodates an elbow under his head. When his focus is back on me, it isn’t really there anyway. Because he’s looking past me against the black window, and his lips move like he’s counting!

  “You’re kidding me?” I fold my arms tightly over my boobs. “You fucked her so many times you can’t even remember?”

  “Three times.”

  “Oh because that’s how hard it is for you to count to three,” I spit out, and wow what’s wrong with me?

  “I don’t know what you want me to say, Aishe. To recall how many times I slept with her, I had to reconstruct where we were, and I went by the dinners we had, because what Hailey and I did meant nothing to me. She was just a fuck. I’m sorry to say that, but she was. So yeah, this all happened two weeks after the video shoot, and to be honest, I felt raw on the inside after the way you left. All I could do was wish you goodbye and have a good life. I. Watched. You. Leave. Okay?”

  I have his eyes again. They’re soft with emotion, and my jealousy sifts off like black ashes on a gust of wind. “It hurt?”

  “It hurt like a motherfucker. Try being in love with your biggest regret, and you’ll know what I mean.”

  “I think I do,” I whisper.

  From across the aisle, I see Nadia’s gaze. I see her barely-there smile. Until Troy descends, his dreadlocks framing an amber world made of soft lips and the scent of spices.

  AISHE

  I’ve found my role with the band! During the day, I’m Troll’s assistant, someone the band listens to (for the most part) when I call out orders about grabbing their shit and getting in the van. Troll spends a lot of time on the phone, advancing concerts, radio- and TV events. That’s how I slowly picked up his slack where I saw it needed.

  I try to stay away from Hailey as much as possible, but the schedules of the crew are similar. Breakfast, lunch, dinner together. Traveling to and from venues and stores. To me, it’s pretty blatant the way she picks up more and more of my idiosyncrasies. For instance, Tokyo is a great place to find strong-colored, shiny Gypsy skirts, it appears—who knew?

  We’re nine days into the tour, and this morning, Troll called her by my name. She turned too, looking straight at him as if she were me, and I only got his attention by waving him down from my table.

  “I found this amazing self-bronzer,” Hailey confides to Irene at the luncheon being offered by a wealthy Japanese businessman here in Yokohama. All he wants is to hear a couple of songs played live at his home, and he’ll name his new beer after the band. Of course, there’s a deeper sponsorship in the making around it; Janet has already called in the details from San Francisco, and they’re signing the contract today.

  “You just get so sick and tired of being pale forever. You know what I mean?” Hailey leans her baby cheeks into her hands and stares up at Irene, who’s been there and done that, is forty-five years old, and doesn’t have a vain bone in her body.

  “Sure,” Irene lies and deposits another piece of California roll in her mouth. According to legend, Mr. Watanabe has been in the U.S. enough times to know most Americans prefer the watered-down version of sushi, hence Irene’s delicacy. I can attest to it still having more flavor than the original at home.

  Hailey quiets as I pass by. I have no idea why she does that when she’s unable to keep her voice low enough to go unnoticed anyway. She makes me want to laugh and smack her at the same time.

  At the buffet table, I cup my hand and drop one grape after the other into my palm until I have a heap without those annoying branches tying them together. As I eat, I scan the ballroom-sized space. The endless ceilings.

  Mr. Watanabe’s home is enormous. White. Simplistic. Oh and modern. A whole wall of the first floor opens toward a backyard with an Olympic-sized pool, and that’s where Troy and the guys now appear from an adjacent house. Troy sees me immediately and waves me out.

  “When we’re back at the hotel, I’m totally trying it. It says you get a reddish brown, super-pretty skin tone,” Hailey giggles out behind me while I walk toward the freedom of the outdoors.

  “Hmm,” Irene starts, the way she does when she’s about to insinuate that something is bullshit. “So like Aishe’s?”

  “What? Oh no, she’s got more of a…” Hailey lowers her voice again, and I stride outside and close the door before I can hear her opinion of my coloring.

  Okay, so it’s making me paranoid to be around her. I can’t talk with Troll about it. Won’t talk with Troy about it. Heck, Hailey’s been doing her job and stayed off my case since we got to Japan. Basically, I have nothing to complain about besides the bizarre feeling I have that she’s taking over my looks.

  For instance, I wear turquoise nail polish. She just bought turquoise nail polish. I left my shoes at the exit to the pool, and in this very moment, Hailey saunters by the door and slows down by my shoes. She studies them, and it annoys me!

  Well, good luck, Hailey. If you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking: don’t bother. No way you’ll find flamenco shoes in Japan.

  “You wanna swim?” Troy asks me, all smiles and boyish flirt. His fingers tap a rhythm along his thigh.

  “Yep! When are you playing?”

  “We just did. The guy has a state-of-the-art recording studio, and he wanted to sing with Emil on ‘Deep in You.’ He also thinks you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, and he wishes me luck in pursuing you.”

  He tugs on my wraparound, and I unhook the ribbon while he does. Troy lets out a pained groan at the sudden reveal of my body in a black bikini. He makes me light up on the inside.

  “I hate what you do to me,” he purrs from a foot away, our unspoken agreement. It’s the closest we should be in public.

  “You do?” I hum back. “I guess I won’t take it any further then.”

  “That’s what I’m talking about, the not-taking-it-further thing,” he says.

  Mischievous, I ignore him, lift my face to toward the sky, and fake-sunbathe.

  “Oh you devil woman.”

  “Didn’t I warn you about that?” I add a sway to my hips as I turn and walk to the pool. “Also, I believe you’ve seen the writing on the wall firsthand.”

  Troy dives in before me. Meets me when I hop in. He swims with me. We chatter with our heads close, chins resting on the surface. His hands find me, glide over remnants of lotion. Giggling, I slip away, sputter water when he catches me by the wa
ist anyway and tickles me until I let out a strangled howl.

  He apologizes. Laughs with me. It’s the most fun I’ve had in weeks… until Hailey’s gun-metal greys pepper me with resentment from the side of the pool.

  I see it in Troy’s eyes. He doesn’t understand why my smile drains, and I make an excuse about being cold. I get out of the pool quickly. I’m not doing it to spare Hailey’s feelings. No, her hostility is a reminder of how far I’ve allowed this flirting to go. I’ve let it go so far that at the heart of a large, middle-of-the-day party, I’m looking into this man’s eyes. I’m smiling to him. I’m letting him touch me in front of everyone who wants to see. And it cannot continue.

  TROY

  “I’ve never been happier about Japan. This place, man. What fucking luck that we had it scheduled at the beginning of the tour. We literally got to escape only days after the video broke. You realize that, right?” Troll sighs with contentment as he bites down on a straw from a Big Gulp, which is one of his go-to vices. He can stay off alcohol for weeks, like he’s done since we came to Japan, but his Big Gulps, he can’t be without. Thank goodness for 7-Eleven.

  “I’m with you, man. Imagine doing the West Coast—not to mention the South with the rumor mill going apeshit,” Bo says. He tosses his baby over a shoulder and pats her butt with the hand holding the remainder of his hot dog. That little girl gets to taste everything. She still has ketchup around her mouth, which Nadia is drying off behind Bo’s back. Selena doesn’t like being cleaned up and complains with undistinguishable baby-cussing.

  Fifteen days in Japan, and we’ve played six of the major cities. Travel day, show day. Travel day, show day. We’ve been in a solid routine, every morning waking up to a tight schedule, and always to more outrageous news from American gossip magazines.

  Online spoofs of the uncensored video have appeared, mostly with “Deep in You” playing in the background. Our lawyers are on it, but as soon as one is taken down, a new one appears, and people are eating it up like crazy.