“That’s too bad. The people here are so nice. We always try and make a few stops in Nashville when we can. Do you live in LA?”
I hide a smile. Do I want to tell him more about me? “Yes.”
We stare into each other’s eyes for a moment. When he looks at me, it feels as though he can see the real me. The girl inside. He’s not looking at me like a piece of meat. He isn’t fooled by my looks. He’s laid back and relaxed, not like the conceited guys I normally go for. He licks his lips and casually scoots closer to me, I respond by doing the same.
“Did you end up getting that job this morning?”
I shake my head, a little lightheaded from my quickened pulse. “I didn’t have the right look.”
“Did you at least get to see the whole show?”
“No, I had drinks with some old friends earlier.”
“Something tells me you didn’t have fun?”
“Hell no. Those girls aren’t my real friends.”
“Then why did you have drinks with them?”
My only response is a shrug.
“Amazing. I don’t know how you can do it.”
Turning my whole body toward him, I rest my chin on my forearm against the back of the couch. “Do what?”
“Put your whole self out there for the world to judge. Don’t you ever knackered? Do you ever get any privacy?”
“Knackered?”
“It means tired, just a phrase I picked up when we were on tour in the U.K last year.”
He really gets around, huh? I do get tired, but I’m not going to tell him that. As for the lack of privacy, it comes with the territory. “I manage. Don’t you get the same treatment in your band? Groupies throwing themselves at you, perhaps?”
He chuckles. “Groupies? We aren’t even signed to a record label, and we’re on this little hole in the wall tour. I don’t make music for the money or fame. I make it because it’s something I love. My band is my life, my family. I have my entire life savings in this band with little to show for it. I guess you can say I’m a modern day hobo. Actually, I have a show in LA next month. We should get together, show me the sights?” He reaches out and pushes a loose tendril behind my ear.
I’m seconds from telling him how that’s not such a good idea, but am stunned by the excitement in my stomach and quivering in my fingertips. Someone pounds on the door and saves me from having to answer. I want my body to stop acting so erratically.
“Yo, Cas, we need to get going! Are you finished with her yet?”
Mortified at how easily I almost threw myself into his arms, I move away and stand up. I toss my hair behind my shoulder and give a haughty laugh. Things like this never end well for me.
“I need to get going anyway.”
“Wait,” he calls out, standing with me and putting a hand out to stop me. “When will I see you again?”
I turn my eyes to his hand on my arm, and fight the urge to press my mouth against his thin, kissable lips. I want to run my hands through his hair and memorize every inch of him with my tongue. No, I can’t do it. Not today. I run my fingers up his forearm and gently trace the outline of his serpent tattoo. Such an interesting choice, but then again he’s an interesting character.
“You can email me,” I finally say. His sexy voice leaves me yearning for more. It’s safer for us both if I never hear him speak ever again. I grab his phone from his front pocket, my hand trembling as I do so. I type in my email address before pressing the phone back into the palm of his hand. He takes his other hand and places it on top of ours and encircles my hand with the pad of his thumb, lightly tracing swirls on it. We stand there for a minute, our hands clutched tightly. This is as intimate as I’ve ever been with a man. Someone taking the time to hold my hand. Barrett doesn’t enjoy these types of things, but I have a sneaky suspicion that Caspian isn’t anything like Barrett.
“See you around.” I turn around to leave without waiting for a goodbye. Leave before you lose your nerve. Before you do something you’ll regret.
“Ciao!” he calls out after me.
The next morning, I wake up late with a little bit of jet lag from the two-hour time difference. I don’t have much to do on this cold Saturday morning. Just an audition later this afternoon. I stretch out and make plans to lie in bed all day. I flip on the TV to an old episode of Doctor Who. I grab my phone and start round one of my social media stalking. A text message comes through.
Quinn: Are you behaving?
Ginger: Yup.
Quinn: Good! I’ll see you next week. Don’t forget baby shopping.
Ginger: Excited!
After I send my message to Quinn, an email comes through. Ugh, already? I just want to relax in bed.
Ginger,
Wanna grab dinner tonight?
Cas
Wow, that was fast. Does he mean a date or just as friends? I technically don’t have plans, but what harm could come from seeing him? I type out a reply and let out a high-pitched squeal like a sixteen-year-old girl who has just been asked out on her very first date.
Caspian,
Sounds fun. I’m at the Omni Hotel. Pick me up at seven? Room 308
Ginger
His reply comes not a minute later
Can’t wait. See you tonight. Cheers!
I have hours before we meet, but as I rummage through my suitcase, nothing looks appropriate. I need something sexy. Something new. I jump out of bed and get dressed. Nashville isn’t the greatest place for shopping, but after a long search at the few high-end boutiques, I find an amazing short green dress with long velvet sleeves. I mull over the hefty price of two grand before deciding to get it. If I wear boots, it’ll be winter appropriate. I still need a winter coat, shoes, and earrings, so I end up finding a dozen new outfits and two new jackets. There’s something about shopping I find therapeutic.
By the time I’m finished, I’m ready to head to my audition, I get a message from my agent.
Casting director canceled. The position is filled.
Whatever. I didn’t have a chance in hell anyway. There’s enough time to get back to the hotel and get some work done before I have to get ready. As I scroll through my emails looking for interview questions, an email from my wealth manager catches my eye. A little worried, I pull out my cell and give her a ring. She never emails unless it’s urgent.
“Hey, Mariah.” I chime out when she answers.
“Ginger, darling. Now you sound like you’re in a good mood.”
“I guess I am.” I furrow my brow in surprise. This entire morning has been surprisingly exciting. Because of tonight’s impending date, perhaps? “Anyway, what’s up?”
“Okay, so I have two things to discuss. I got an email from our security department, and there’s been some suspicious activity on your account.”
“What kind of activity?” I haven’t used my bank account in days, only my credit cards.
“Well…there have been some large purchases from places such as the Apple Store, Walmart, and Best Buy.”
“What?” I screech. “And you let it go through? Do you guys really think I’d shop at….Walmart?”
“Oh, Ginger. I’m terribly sorry about all this, but not to worry, you aren’t liable for any fraudulent purchases.”
“Good, and exactly how much did they take out?”
“It looks like they spent a little over ten grand, so use your credit card from here on out, and I’m gonna get you a new debit card out in the mail Monday morning.”
“That’s a lot of money to go through before fraud catches it.”
“Well it looks like it’s within your normal spending pattern.”
I don’t spend that much on a regular basis. Okay, maybe I do sometimes. Fine, always. I always spend money. Like I said, shopping improves my mood. “Seriously Mariah, how did someone get my card information?”
“Anywhere, an ATM or a website could have been compromised, these days it’s so hard to tell. But we do need to be careful; other things could have been compromised
as well. Social security number, things like that. I can tell you’re a little frustrated, so why don’t we talk later this week? I will fix everything up and call you next week.”
“Fine, thanks.” I hang up, a little irritated that my account has been hacked. I’m not hurting for money, not exactly. I don’t keep much cash on hand, most of it’s stashed away in investments, but I worked hard for each and every penny and if the jobs don’t start coming in I may have to cut back on the designer bags and lavish trips. I push away all my stress and decide to make the most of what’s left of my day. My phone goes off a few more times.
“What now, ugh!” I look at the screen. It’s my little sister, Ebbie. I promised her I’d try and visit while I was so close to home, but I don’t feel like dealing with my parents this weekend. I turn my phone off and look for something to distract me.
“I don’t mind if I do,” I tell myself while reaching for the hotel mini fridge. I pull out about a dozen little bottles of liquor and begin a dosage of straight shots. Each time my head tilts back, and the liquid goes down my throat, I forget what a shitty week it’s been.
Bump, Bump, Bump
I open my eyes and wipe the drool from my mouth. The incessant pounding continues.
“What?”
“Ginger? Open the fuck up or I’ll call the—”
I jump out of bed and throw the door open. “Oh no…” I moan, when I see Caspian standing there dressed in a white button up shirt with a skinny black tie and jeans. I bring my hand up to my forehead and rub my eyes in an attempt to wake up.
“What’s going on? I thought I heard crying?”
“Wasn’t me.” I turn around, and sure enough, one of my favorite movies, The Holiday, is playing on the TV. “Kate Winslet. You heard Kate Winslet crying, not me.”
I step back to let him in. He takes one look at my ensemble and hides a snicker. My green dress is slightly wrinkled. I’m certain my hair is sticking up and my makeup has to be smeared. When he walks past me, I sneak a hurried glance in the mirror and try and smooth my hair down before Caspian turns around.
“I apologize for pounding, but I thought you were hurt.”
I look and feel like death. “I’m sorry; I had a bad day and fell asleep after lunch. I guess…” My voice trails off as Caspian picks up a few of the liquor bottles off the table. He examines them for a second before looking up at me with accusing eyes.
“You’ve got quite a collection going on here.”
I can feel the excuse forming at the tip of my tongue, and the heat rising to my face. “Don’t you start in on me too,” I snap, throwing things around to find aspirin for my headache. I really don’t want to deal with this right now. Not from him.
“So I’m not the first to say something like this to you…”
“Listen.” I pause in front of him and gaze straight in his eyes. “This isn’t like me at all. I don’t drink all the time, just when I’ve had a bad day. So don’t come in here and act like you know me at all because you don’t. I’ve had a series of bad days, it’s not my fault.”
He picks up a trashcan, slides his hand across the desk, and knocks all the bottles into it.
“Ah ha!” I pull out a bottle of aspirin from my purse.
“Ginger, it’s okay to admit that your life isn’t perfect. You don’t have to lie to me.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I grab the trashcan from his hands and set it back down on the floor. “I understand if you wanna leave. Go ahead, it won’t hurt my feelings. I’m a total mess anyways.” I put the aspirin in my mouth and pick up the last bottle of vodka to wash it down.
“I don’t think you need any more drinks tonight.” He pulls the bottle from my hand and replaces it with a cup of water. “You need some food in your stomach.” He stuffs his hands in his pockets and shrugs his shoulder sheepishly.
I cover my face with my hands, in no mood to see Caspian ever again. This night has not turned out like I hoped. “You really don’t know how to take a hint, do you?”
“A hint?”
“Yes, this whole date tonight was a bad idea.”
“Hey, who said I asked you out on a date. I asked if you wanted to get some food. Friends get food.”
Even more embarrassed, I hide my face with my hands. I’ve just made a total fool of myself. “Maybe we can just never speak of this again.”
“Do you really want to? I mean, I’ve been waiting to see you all day and I’m already here so how about we walk down Broadway and find a place to eat.”
I sit down on the bed and begin crying. This is the most horrible feeling in the world. Why am I being so emotional in front of a stranger? I can’t believe I already screwed up this non-date before it’s even started. Caspian swipes a box of tissues from the nightstand.
“Don’t move,” he tells me. He uses the tissue to gently wipe away my tears and streaked mascara, after a second he stands up and gets a wet washcloth from the bathroom and continues to dab under my eyes. He smooths down my hair with the back of his hand.
“Why are you being so nice to me?” I suck back the tears and attempt to smile.
“Surely you’ve had someone take care of you when you weren’t feeling well.” He holds out a glass of water which I take.
“No, I’m the oldest of six. It was always my responsibility to take care of everyone else.”
“Six, huh? I’m the youngest of four boys.”
“Ahhhh… so you’re the baby. Bet you had an easy life.”
“It was okay,” he says with a shrug. “What about a friend or boyfriend, didn’t they ever take care of you?”
I give out a haughty laugh but don’t answer. Barrett? Take care of me? Never in a million years, and I’ve never really made the type of friends who would hold my hair back while I threw up in the toilet.
“I don’t date nice guys, and girls find me…intimidating.”
“Intimidating?”
“I can be a real bitch sometimes.”
“You think?”
We both give a tense laugh as he tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. “Nice piercing you’ve got going on there.”
I move my face away from his fingers. “Uh, thanks. I’m not a fan of this type of stuff, but I got inebriated last week, and I guess I kept it in for fun.
“Inebriated, huh? I thought you didn’t do this all the time.”
“I don’t.” Blood rushes to my face, and I pull my knees up to my chest. I don’t want him to think I’m some sort of slutty barfly.
“You’re drinking alone, during the day…” He clears his throat. I open my mouth to reply, but find myself at a loss for words. There’s no rhyme or reason for my drinking except to make myself feel better. I look at the carpet below my feet and suddenly wish I could disappear. Why is Caspian making me feel so bad?
“Let me guess,” he says. “The only thing worse than drinking alone is not drinking.”
“What?” I lift my head. He put into words everything I felt.
I have to change the topic; my drinking history isn’t any of his business. “You know my cousin has the best hangover cure; she makes the greasiest, yummiest hamburger you’ve ever seen.
“Okay, so then let’s do that.”
I shut my mouth and try to think of a way out of it without sounding like a snob. “Well, for one, I can’t cook. Don’t ever ask me to. Two, I don’t feel like going out anywhere. Three, I don’t have a hangover. I told you, I just fell asleep.” Pathetic excuses!
“Doesn’t matter. Let’s go, there’s gotta be some sort of fast food place around here.”
“Gross! No. Way. I don’t eat fast food. I can’t believe you would eat that processed crap!”
He takes my hand and scoops me up into his arms.
“Put me down!” I struggle against him, but since I’m in no mood to try hard, I give up and lay back, pretending I’m lifeless. Deadweight in his arms.
“Sit up, Ginger. People are gonna think I’m carrying out a dead bo
dy.”
“Then put me down…” I groan.
“Fine.” Caspian carelessly tosses me onto the bed where I bounce once before throwing a pillow at him.
“Just change into something more comfortable. I can call us a taxi.”
I change out of the dress into a Juicy Couture jumpsuit. “No need. I rented a car, we can take mine.”
I throw him my keys. We make it downstairs where Caspian takes the driver’s seat. He whistles behind the wheel of the sleek black Cadillac.
“I took you for more of a Lamborghini type of girl.”
“Apparently being Ginger Teague doesn’t mean anything because I wasn’t old enough. You have to be 24.” I huff and fold my arms in front of my chest. A little stuck up sounding, I know, but if I have the money, why would they care? I had the money.
After driving around aimlessly, we find a Burger King.
“No, no, no!” I yell as he pulls into the drive thru line.
“It’s an American classic.”
“Obesity is an American classic. I won’t eat a week’s worth of sodium in one meal.”
“Your figure is…smashing.”
I look out the window and smile. One would think I get complements all the time, but I don’t, not really. I no longer protest when he orders me a burger, large fries, and a frozen coke. We take the food back to the hotel and curl up on the king-sized bed with some music playing on my phone. I put on one of my favorite groups, Lydia.
“You know who Lydia is?” Caspian says with disbelief.
“Yeah, I’ve been in love with their music since high school.”
“Oh really? What’s your favorite album?”
“Illuminate,” I say without missing a beat. He doesn’t believe I can like any music that isn’t Britney or bubblegum pop. Well two can play this game.
“Your favorite song?”
“Best Nights.”
He sits back and gives me a long hard look. “I guess you’re perfect then.”
“A perfect devil,” I tease before digging into the greasy bag and pulling out our food.
“What about you? Favorite song of all time?”
“I really love Crooked Teeth by Death Cab for Cutie.”
“That’s a good one. Yum, this food is amazing…” I gush as I stick a ketchup-covered fry in my mouth.
The One Thing Page 4
