I grab my purse and my backpack holding all of my belongings and head over to the gate. My hand shakes as I give the lady my ticket.
“Have a nice flight,” she says with a smile.
“Thanks.” I follow a few passengers down the jetway and try not to freak out when I enter the plane. A million thoughts zip through my head and I take slow breaths to try to remain calm.
The plane is bigger than I expected, but I guess I don’t have anything to compare it to. Rows of tan seats are all down the aisles, and a super happy stewardess points me to the middle where I’m guessing my seat is.
It’s stuffy in here. I hope they have air conditioning since it’s like a billion degrees outside.
I scoot past a few people putting their belongings into overhead compartments and finally find my seat. It’s by the window, so I stuff my carry-on in the overhead compartment before I sit down with my purse on my lap. I unzip it and pull out the card from Carmen and my cell. My eyes skim the envelope again for the fifth time this morning. I fold it back up and stare at my phone, waiting for the frantic calls of my parents.
Nothing yet, so I turn it off, my stomach churning at what I’ll find when I turn it back on again when I land.
Satisfied, I sit back in the seat and wait for take-off. Flying to New York from California is going to take forever, but I’m going to be fine. I’ll relax on the plane until we land, then I’ll scour New York City all day and all night if I have to. If it turns into weeks, I’ll still search. And I won’t leave until I find her.
Foolproof plan if you ask me.
Then again, I haven’t always been the best at planning.
You’ll be fine. Calm the heck down.
I’ll just keep telling myself that.
I jump as someone sits down beside me and glance over to find a guy around my age. His dark hair is hidden underneath a baseball cap and his earbuds hang around his neck. I notice a little silver ring in his eyebrow and wonder how painful it was to pierce it there. He glances at me for a second, which gets me all flustered for some reason, and then he sinks low into his seat, keeping his head down and folding his arms.
He obviously doesn’t want to talk to anyone. Least of all me. He’s way out of my league anyway, so I shouldn’t be surprised. Ignoring my new neighbor, I settle into my squishy, yet uncomfortable seat and stare out the window until the plane takes off and we’re in the air.
I’m doing the right thing. I’m doing the right thing.
Am I? Am I really?
Please tell me I’m doing the right thing.
CHAPTER 7
In too deep, nowhere to go
Watch my life spiral out of control
You’re the one who keeps me here
Locked in this battle with my worst fear
—J.S.
It’s been an hour. Maybe two. And honestly, I’ve never been so bored in my entire life. I guess my history class could count as the most boring thing ever, but I digress. I could at least get up and go to a different class after. When you’re stuck on a plane, things don’t change. And I can only get up to “go to the bathroom” so many times before people start looking at me funny.
I’m on bathroom visit number three already. And from the old lady sitting across the aisle keeps looking at me, I know she’s counting. After another scowl in my direction, she goes back to her knitting and pulls her thick jacket closer around her.
It’s like ninety degrees in here.
I squirm in my seat and stare out the little window again, seeing nothing but wispy clouds and flat land below. My stomach lurches at how high we are so I focus on the seat in front of me to take my mind off it. If only I would have brought my Kindle or some music or something. I’m an idiot.
The guy next to me has had his earbuds in almost the whole flight so far, but I notice he’s taken them out. I fight the temptation to steal them and his MP3 player. It would give me something to do, but probably wouldn’t be the smartest move ever. I’m not here to get arrested for stealing. Though the thought of listening to music makes me think it might be worth it. Anything to take my mind off worrying about Madison. Or what my angry parents are doing right now. Or old ladies who like to glare at me. Or the dumb decision not to pack anything to keep me entertained during a cross-country flight. Or that fact that I’m hundreds of feet in the air with only a big slab of metal keeping me from falling to my death.
Pretty sure I’m afraid of heights. Just a little …
I startle as the guy next to me suddenly shrugs out of his leather jacket. My eyes are drawn to his bare arms, because … Well … Who doesn’t love nice arms? I try not to stare but can’t help looking at the tattoo swirling around his right bicep. Some intricate wrap-around about an inch wide in a sleek design. Not sure if it’s meant to be some kind of symbol or just cool to look at. But believe me, it’s pretty awesome. It kind of reminds me of one of Dad’s, but this guy is … uh … very nice to look at. He glances over at me and I hurry and pretend I’m interested in something in my purse. After he puts his jacket on the floor, he ignores me completely and grabs a magazine from the little holder on the back of the seat in front of him.
As he sets it in his lap, I stare at the headline, even though I hate when people read over my shoulder. But I can’t help it. I’m beyond bored. And I wonder why I didn’t pick up the magazine earlier.
BLUE FIRE ON VERGE OF BREAK-UP!
Lead Singer Jaxton Scott ready to call it quits.
I chuckle. “Good. I hate that band.” My cheeks redden. I didn’t really mean to say that out loud.
The guy glances up, a curious look on his face. “Blue Fire?”
“Yeah.” I smile, kind of proud of myself now for starting a conversation with a complete stranger. “I can’t stand all the screaming. One, it’s annoying. And two, it gives me a headache.”
His blue eyes grow wide for a second and then he breaks into an easy smile. “Huh. Interesting.” He sets the magazine in the holder again and leans back, his arms folded. “You don’t listen to a lot of rock?”
I shrug. “There’s a difference between rock and screaming. One requires talent, the other doesn’t.”
“Really? Enlighten me.”
“Okaaaay … ” I reach forward, grab the magazine, and stare at the four guys on the cover, dressed in black with piercings all over their faces. “These guys are just … creepy. And trying to be trendy. Know what I mean?” He raises an eyebrow but doesn’t answer, so I continue. “I’m sure they have … uh … Talent, but I love the old rock. The real rock. Metallica, Zeppelin, AC/DC. The classics.”
“Understandable. They have good stuff.” He sits back in his seat and slouches down again.
“Right? I’m not a fan of knock-offs. Or trends. I like the real deal. I guess I’m old school?”
“Not a bad thing,” he says.
“Thanks. These guys are just a bunch of punks with makeup on. I don’t like fake. And they can’t get any faker. And the fact that they’re always fighting and threatening to break up is annoying, too. If you don’t like what you’re doing, just quit. Don’t be so dramatic about it. But I guess Hollywood is all about the drama. What would we regular people do with ourselves without all the celebrity gossip?” I chuckle. I don’t follow Hollywood as much as Maddy does. She loves it all.
He stares at me a second before clearing his throat. “You make it seem like a simple thing to do.”
“Huh?” No idea what he’s talking about.
“Quit.”
“Oh. Well, why wouldn’t it be simple? You hate something, so why make yourself miserable?”
A trace of a frown graces his lips before he smiles and looks away. “No idea.”
He doesn’t say anything else, so I focus on my new entertainment for the moment. I flip through the magazine, curious about the article now. It’s not like I listen to Blue Fire, but a good scandalous story is sometimes fun to pass the time.
I scan the article. Apparently, the rumor mill
says the lead singer wants to quit, but nothing official has happened yet. Not too surprising. Someone’s always threatening to quit a band and then they never do. Or they do quit and then go back to the band a year later saying they’d made a mistake. I’d seen it all before.
Hollywood is a fickle place with nothing but divas in its playground.
The band’s pictures are splashed all over the pages. Dark hair, dark makeup, black painted nails. So not my style. There are pictures of them drinking, crowded around by girls in tight short dresses, big smiles, a few of them playing live at some venue.
Why would anyone want that lifestyle? Drinking your life away for what? To be plastered all over the news the next day when you get a DUI or show up to your next show with a hangover from the night before?
Not worth it.
One picture in the left-hand corner catches my attention and I take a closer look. It’s of the lead singer, Jaxton. He actually looks normal. And he’s doing something normal. Not partying it up in Hollywood. He’s taking the trash out of his Hollywood home, no makeup or black clothes at all. He’s cute underneath all the layers of crap they put on him to make him some kind of symbol.
His dark hair is spiked and he’s wearing basketball shorts and a T-shirt. My eyes are drawn to the tattoo on his right arm. It’s sexy. I swear I’ve seen it before, though.
I stiffen. I grimace and barely stop myself from cursing aloud.
Oh no.
I swallow and glance to my left to find my neighbor staring at me with an amused smile on his face.
Or should I say, I find Jaxton Scott staring at me with an amused smile on his face.
Jaxton Scott is sitting next to me. And I just told him his band sucks.
Someone kill me now.
“Um …” My mouth goes dry and all I want to do is get up and jump off the plane. Preferably with a parachute. My cheeks heat and I set the magazine in my lap, closing it and smoothing down the crinkles. I sit up a little straighter, take a shaky breath. And clear my throat. “So … About that conversation we just had …” I trail off and look at him, surprised to find him still smiling. “Blue Fire isn’t … That bad … ?”
I wait for him to demand another seat. To get up and yell at me or shame me in front of all the passengers on the plane. But he does something that surprises me.
He laughs.
I stare at him with my mouth hanging open. “I …”
I want to say I’m sorry, but I can’t find the right words. And honestly, I don’t think he wants to hear me say anything else for the rest of the flight.
He reaches over and puts a finger on my chin to push my mouth closed. “It’s okay. I promise I’m not mad. I’ll admit I was a little shocked at how animated you were when you were telling me how awful Blue Fire was, but no worries. I appreciate your honesty.” He grins and removes his finger from my chin. “You’d make a good critic. I don’t think I’ve ever been ripped that bad in my life. And I even got to experience it firsthand. Very entertaining.”
I’m still staring at him. My face is flaming, I’m sure.
A minute or two goes by before he speaks again. “You can talk, you know. I don’t bite.”
He smiles again and I work to spit out the right words. “Um … hi?”
Smooth, Mia. Real smooth.
“I’m Jaxton,” he says, holding out his hand.
I hesitate only a second before grabbing it. “Mia. Mia Cox.”
“Hello, Mia Cox. It’s nice to meet you.”
Why the heck did I tell him my last name?
I notice he keeps his voice down and doesn’t tell me his full name. I’m guessing from the way he’s wearing his hat that he doesn’t want to be recognized. “So …” I start. “You’re … um … kind of a rockstar.”
Keep going, Mia. You’re doing awesome.
“Well, from the way you just described my band, I’d call myself a trendy wannabe rockstar.”
My face flames again, and I sink lower in my seat with a groan.
“I’m totally kidding. Don’t feel bad.”
“I’m an idiot.” I put my face in my hands, like it will help hide my shame.
“No, actually, you’re not. I liked that you had no idea who I was while you were spouting off your distaste for my music. It was refreshing. You didn’t fall all over yourself and compliment me. Or take a billion pictures. Like I said. I like honesty. And I don’t like fake people.”
I glance up again and smile. “I don’t like fake people either. That’s why I stay away from Hollywood news. Not that you’re fake or anything. Just … A lot of people in Hollywood are.”
“Well, I’m glad to know we have that in common since we’ll be keeping each other company all flight.”
A hint of a smile plays at my lips and I blush again under his gaze. I still feel so stupid. Maddy never would have done something like this. She would have recognized him the second he sat down in his seat. She’ll enjoy this story, for sure. Especially since it has to do with Jaxton Scott. She loves Blue Fire. We tend to agree on most things, but Blue Fire isn’t one of them.
“Now that you know how vile I can be, could I ask you a question?”
He raises an eyebrow. “Depends on what you want to ask. Is it vile? Scandalous? Worth reporting?”
I chuckle. “No. You’re safe. This time, anyway. I’ll be nice, I swear.”
“Ask away then.”
“What are you doing sitting in coach? Shouldn’t you be … You know. In first class with the rest of the rich and famous people? Drinking champagne, eating caviar, sleeping on fluffy pillows? All that fun stuff?”
He shrugs. “Most of the time, I’d rather not be noticed.”
I smile, not really believing what he’s saying. Who wouldn’t notice him? I guess I didn’t, for a second, but I’m the anomaly. “You’re kind of one of those people who other people notice.” My eyes nearly pop out of my head when I realize it sounds like I’m hitting on him. Stop talking, Mia. “I mean … uh … people know who you are and stuff.”
He leans toward me, a sly grin on his face. “You’re pretty noticeable yourself.”
I choke out a laugh, which comes out louder than I expected. After glancing around to make sure people aren’t staring, I shake my head. “Right.”
“That guy over in the next row? He’s been staring at you since you boarded.”
I don’t dare look where he’s gesturing. “That’s creepy.”
“Not like full on staring, but he has been checking you out. I wouldn’t be surprised if he came over to talk to you.” He glances over at the guy, and I try to catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of my eye. When that doesn’t work, I turn my head a little more, make eye contact, and chuckle as the guy suddenly gets really interested in the magazine he’s holding. “See? He’s jealous I’m talking to you right now. And if it were the other way around, I’d be jealous of him.”
“Oh, please. Do you use that line often?” He thinks he’s so smooth just because he’s a rockstar or heartthrob or whatever. I don’t know what they call musicians in Hollywood. A Rock God?
He puts a hand to his chest. “Me? Never.”
“Not buying it. You’re paid to be a flatterer.”
“Not right now. All I’m doing is paying you a compliment. I noticed you before I even sat down.”
“Mmmm hmmm.” I roll my eyes.
“Really. Contrary to what the tabloids say, I’m quite shy. I’m not the type to just start a conversation, so thanks for that. You made things way less awkward than they would have been.”
“Are you serious? Because the conversation I started with you couldn’t have been any more awkward. I insulted you. Multiple times.”
He laughs. “Yet, here I sit.”
I frown. “Yes…. Here you sit.” Weird. I glance around for more band members. He can’t be here alone, can he? “Where are your bodyguards? The rest of Blue Fire? Aren’t you supposed to travel with a manager or something?”
“No on
e knows I’m here.”
“I’m sure someone does. You have like fifty people who follow you around wherever you go.”
“Nope. No one. I’m taking a spontaneous vacation to New York. Indefinitely.”
I stare at him. “You’re messing with me. You have places to be. People to see. Concerts to … Yell at.” I grin.
He leans back in his seat with a chuckle. “Not if I can help it.”
“No gig you’re playing at tomorrow?” Did I really just say gig?
He shakes his head.
“No girlfriend or groupies you’re surprising after a big tour?”
He snorts.
“I take that as a no …”
“No on both accounts.” His blue eyes hold mine and I see the truth in them. And something else I can’t place yet. “I haven’t dated anyone in over a year.”
“Oh.” It’s all I can think to say. I think I remember some blonde girl he dated for a really long time. Maddy would know, since she’s obsessed. “Well, that’s … Awesome?”
He smiles at that. “Is it?”
I scoot away, not sure what he’s implying but unable to break eye contact.
“Drinks?”
The stewardess’s voice snaps me out of whatever trance I’m in and I glance away from him.
“Water?” I squeak. I clear my throat. “Water would be great.”
Jaxton shoots me a small smile. “I’ll have the same.”
She hands us some mini water bottles. I twist the cap and down mine in two seconds. And I’m not even joking.
“Thirsty?” Jaxton sips his and puts the cap back on before setting it in his drink holder. He looks so relaxed compared to the hot mess I am right now.
“Yes.” My mouth is still dry. I’m sure I could down three more bottles. I can’t shake the nervousness I’ve been feeling since I figured out who he is. A rockstar. Who I’ve insulted several times already but for some reason won’t stop talking to me.
Not that I mind. I just didn’t expect someone like him to be so down to earth. He’s so … normal. Maddy should be here instead of me. She’d love this.
“So what’s your story then?” He makes himself comfortable in our very uncomfortable seats. “Are you on your way to visit family? Or are you meeting a secret lover somewhere?”
Interlude Page 4