by Mj Fields
Finn’s lips curl up at the corners as I dig in the bag on my lap and hand him three.
He gives two to River for him and Billy before he turns back and looks at me. I know he is, even with his shades on.
I pull my sour apple Blow Pop from my mouth. “Can I help you?”
His lip curls up again. “You could, but you won’t.” He says it so sinfully there is no way I can even pretend it was intended any other way.
I look past him at Billy and River, hoping they didn’t hear what he just said to me.
“You wanna sit over there? Try that side of the stage next?”
My mouth falls open. I am completely shocked that he just said that.
When he reaches over and pushes my lower jaw up with one finger, I snap my head away from his touch. He then proceeds to take my sucker and hands me his.
“I like apple better.”
“I’ve already had that in my mouth. Give—”
He huffs, and I stop talking, looking away.
I am already exhausted, and we haven’t even left the ground. Exhausted from the emotional rollercoaster I have been on since I found out I was pregnant, not to mention the events that happened two months after that.
His knee nudges mine again, but I don’t react. He does it again, obviously not taking the hint that I would prefer to be left alone.
Once I look at him out of the corner of my eye, he pops the Blow Pop in his mouth, lowers his glasses, and leans in to me as he pulls it out.
“I’ve tasted better.” His eyes lazily gaze down my body, causing me to squirm inside, but I hold it together. He takes the Blow Pop and rubs it across my lower lip before I am able to react, and the inside squirming is dying to come out. “So have you.”
“Enough,” I whisper. “That’s enough.”
He rolls his blood shot eyes and lets out a slow sigh. “Not yet it’s not.”
“You’re high. That’s your problem, you know. You hate me when you’re sober, so why not make that your reason to ‘just say no.’ ” I air quote the anti-drug catch phrase.
His eyes dance in amusement. They are lighter, clearer, less mucky, and how messed up is that? He’s high!
“I’d rather be like Nike and just do it.” He makes the swish with his finger, and I can’t help staring at it. It’s long and thick and— “You liked it.”
“I’m not a piece of ass,” comes out louder than I intended, and he looks at me more sternly. Then I whisper, “I told you that the other night.”
“Then you came all over my face.”
When I gasp, he pulls his shades down, turns around, pops the Blow Pop back in his mouth, and then grips the arm rests as we ascend into the air. I quickly unwrap another sour apple Blow Pop and pop it in my mouth. Then I look out of the corner of my eye to see he’s smirking.
“That flavor suits you better.”
I am angry at him, but angrier with myself for the choice I made to drink the other night, knowing damn well what I was getting into.
“You don’t know me,” I grumble as I reach in my bag and pull out the thin blanket I carry when I fly.
“Whose fault is that?” he asks softly.
I don’t reply. I cover myself up, pull down the sleep mask, and curl up, facing the window.
I can feel the buzz wearing off too damn soon. I wish I could sleep like she does. I wish I could forget the taste of her, but I can’t.
Destruction is a bitch. I could never outrun her. She follows me, swallows me whole. Avoidance is a gift, one I cherish while creating. Right now, that gift is hiding in the shadows of destruction, avoiding the madness inside her path.
I’m on her path, regardless.
I lean over and River nods.
“What’s up?”
“I need to sleep,” I say, knowing damn well it’s a bad fucking idea, but no fucks are given.
River reaches in his backpack and pulls out a bottle. “This will help.” He opens it, taps a pill out, and hands it to me. I pop it in my mouth. “You’ll get four hours.” He pops one in his own mouth and winks. “Sleep well.”
I recline my seat and take in several deep breaths, smelling her, trying to find something good to focus on that will help me relax my mind: my childhood, my first love, my dog, my friends … None of my memories are calming.
After waiting twenty minutes, my body is totally relaxed, but my mind still remains far from it. I want to shut it off.
“I need another,” I tell River.
“Dude, I don’t think—”
“I. Need. Another.” I glare at him.
After he shakes his head, pulls the bottle out, opens it, and hands me another, I swallow it down.
My head feels like a balloon floating on a string attached to my body. It’s light, but this is no true escape. I am surrounded by madness and destruction, each exit blocked by my past.
I look at my watch. It’s ten minutes later—still awake.
Fuck!
***
“Finn,” I hear River, then feel him tap me.
My eyes are too fucking heavy. My head is a brick and not a balloon.
“I found don’t give a fuck,” I hear myself mumble.
“What is wrong with him?” I hear Sonya whisper.
“River?” It’s Memphis. He’s pissed. “Da fuck did you give him?”
“He wanted something to help him sleep,” River whispers.
“Isn’t that what was behind the fucking clam bake in the car?” Memphis snaps.
“Wasn’t enough,” I say, fighting to open my eyes.
“I asked you what the fuck you gave him,” Memphis snaps again.
“Memphis, don’t. Too many people around with phones and recording devices.” It’s Sonya. “Let’s just get him up and out of here.”
I know it’s her hand that wraps around my elbow. I know it’s her.
“Don’t touch me.”
Her hand immediately releases my arm, and I immediately wish I hadn’t said shit.
I open my eyes and force my hand to grip the back of the seat in front of me. Pulling myself up, I feel a hand on my back, pushing me.
“Deal with it. This is my job,” she growls at me.
“Don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks.” I don’t have it in me to fight her.
“Great. River stay in front; Billy hang back,” she gives out instructions like a fucking drill sergeant. “You got this?” she asks, looking up at me.
“No.” I throw my arm around her shoulder. “That’s better.”
Her eyes shoot daggers, but her body seems to conform. “You owe me.”
“Anytime,” I say and keep looking down as she wraps her arm around my waist and walks me off the plane and into the terminal.
When she starts to let go, I pull her in more tightly. I look down to see her nipples are pebbled, rock hard, and my mouth immediately goes dry.
She looks up, and I see her face is flaming red.
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what? You can’t force attraction when it doesn’t exist, Sonya. Why the hell try? It’s obvious you get all hot and bothered when we’re close. I can make you—”
“Finn, this isn’t the time or the place,” she grunts, pushing me up straighter and walking faster.
“When is?”
“How about staying sober for ten minutes and trying to find out if your dick gets hard, then see if your attraction still exists?”
“You aren’t fucked up, and your nipples are so hard they’re practically ripping through your shirt.”
“Time and place,” she says with a strain in her voice as we exit security.
“Can you get his bags and mine?” she asks River.
“I have no idea what yours are,” he says.
“Two large, hot pink hard shells. You can’t miss them,” she says as she keeps the momentum up.
Once outside, she walks us to the curb, shoves two fingers in her mouth, whistles and waves with her hand that’s not wrapped around my waist. The h
eat hits me hard, and I feel a hell of a lot less strength than I did inside.
She looks back over her shoulder at someone. “You have the info to the hotel, right?”
“Of course. You sure you can handle him?” I hear Tales from behind.
“She can handle me,” I respond as a cab pulls up.
“Get in,” she says as she opens the door, and once I slide in, she slides in beside me.
“Woodlands Waterway Marriot,” she tells the cab driver.
I rest my head against the window, trying to find a cold connection. I feel perspiration beading on my head, my upper lip, and my stomach cramps.
“Hey, you.” Her voice is much less harsh.
“Hmm?” is all I can muster, afraid if I speak, I will throw up.
“Look at me,” she says in an even softer tone.
I force myself to sit up and turn my head toward her.
“You kind of look like hell.”
I nod once, and that movement makes me woozy.
“Dizzy?”
I swallow down the phlegm in my throat. “And hot.”
She leans forward and taps on the glass. “Can you turn up the AC please?” Then she reaches in her purse and pulls out a bottle of water.
I close my eyes. “You’re an angel.”
“You think this is for you?” she asks.
“I fucking hope so,” I admit.
“Well, then let’s you and I make a deal.”
I force my head toward her again.
“No more drugs, Finn. No more—”
“Pills.” I give one nod.
“I’m serious. You are gonna make my job so hard.” She hands me the open bottle.
“Like you aren’t doing the same.” I take a drink and hold it in my mouth, worried it may come up.
“Swallow,” she says.
I do with a smile.
“You’re such an ass.”
“At least I do what I’m told.” I lean my head back, slightly amused with myself.
“Good. How about you keep that attitude up? No drugs, no drinking, no smoking—”
“You’re pushing.”
“It’s my—”
“How about you take it to River?”
She doesn’t say anything more, and I’m good with that.
“We’re here,” she says a while later, rubbing my shoulder.
I don’t move, so she rubs it again. I force my hand up and hold her hand against me so she can’t rub me again.
“Am I bugging you?” she asks. “Are you awake?”
“You’re making me har—”
Her hand flies over my mouth, stopping me.
“Let’s go.” She gets out and holds the door open. “Can you manage?”
“Sonya, I can do anything I put my mind to,” I grumble.
“Good. Then put your mind into walking in here and looking a little less like a damn rock star who parties from sun up to sun down.”
I step out and hold the door as she walks away, and she stops and looks back.
“Go. I’ll get there,” I assure her.
I stop at the door and pat my pockets. I grab the Camel Lights from the inside jacket I must have shoved them in. Then I remember the Zippo is in my carry-on, and I hope to hell one of the guys grabbed it.
I see a hot, leggy brunette looking at me as she takes a drag off her cigarette.
“You got a light?”
She blushes and nods, then hands me her lit cigarette. I light off of it and hand it back as I inhale.
She cocks her head to the side. “Are you an actor?”
“Sometimes, we all are.” I shrug.
She laughs. “No, you seem familiar.”
“Never been here before.”
“Well, welcome to the great state of Texas. I’m Ryana.” She reaches in her pocket and pulls out a card. “I’m here for a while, staying in this hotel for a few days, hopefully more. If you get bored or want someone to explore with, let me—”
She stops talking, and I follow her eyes to see Sonya turning around and walking toward the entry.
“She your girl?” Ryana asks.
“No.”
“She looks a little upset.”
“She looks that way a lot,” I say, snuffing out my smoke. I shove the card in my pocket. “Might see you around,” I say, but I think, Hopefully not.
“I certainly hope so.”
Buzzed from the quick smoke and woozy from the pills, I make my way inside as fast as I can, which isn’t fast at all.
Sonya is standing at the elevator. When I get to it, the door opens and she steps inside. I follow.
“All of the rooms aren’t ready. One is.”
“Okay,” I say, relishing in the fact that I know damn well she is annoyed with me.
“So …?” She throws her hands in the air when the door finally closes.
“So what?” I ask as nausea hits again when the elevator moves.
Before she can answer, my phone rings with a call from Memphis.
“What’s up?” I ask.
“You good now, River?” he asks in a pissy, yet joking manner.
“Wrong name, asshole.”
“Same path, though.”
His response pisses me off, so I hang up.
Her phone rings immediately.
“This is Sonya,” she answers like whoever’s ringing her doesn’t know who they called.
“Yes, he’s still”—she pauses and looks at me, then turns to face the wall—“fucked up.”
I know immediately it’s Memphis.
“Well, I was supposed to be there and—” She pauses, and I strain my ears to listen. “I understand. No, it’s fine. I’ll email Tally the updates on the performers. I worked on some more numbers during the flight.” She stops again. “See you then.”
She hangs up, and her head hangs low. Then she takes in a deep breath and turns to me. “They are heading straight to the radio station to meet with the DJ who went over the audition tapes. They prefer you stay here.”
“I prefer that, too.”
She looks at me like I’m stupid. “You do know that most of these local acts have followings.”
I nod. “That’s great.”
The elevator door opens, and I push myself off the wall and motion for her to go ahead of me. “Ladies first.”
She gives me a frustrated glance and storms out.
At a door, she slides the key through the slot and opens it, and I follow her in.
“Wow,” she whispers and looks back at me. “Do you always travel like this?”
I look around the suite. There are cream-colored walls and a dark, hardwood floor. Straight ahead is a dining room table, the wood matching the floor, and the chairs are upholstered cream with the same dark wood trim. To the left is a sitting area. Past it are double doors opening to a king-sized bedroom. To the right of the dining room is a small kitchenette, a bathroom, and another set of double doors leading to another bedroom. Straight ahead is a wall of windows leading out to a large patio overlooking the river.
“No,” I answer. “It’s a little much.”
“Nice, though.” She walks to the kitchenette where she grabs two glasses and fills them with water from the sink. She turns and walks toward me. “You hungry?”
I take the glass of water she offers before asking, “You bipolar?”
“You’re kidding me? I am being nice.” She starts to walk away, and I grab her elbow.
“Thank you for the drink, Sonya.”
She turns to look back at me.
“But in the elevator, you were pissed. Outside, you were borderline rude—”
“I didn’t—”
“In the cab, you were nice. The plane … Well, one minute bitch, the next hot and bothered—”
“You have some nerve, Finn Be—”
“Then you were pretty fucking cool getting me out of there. Stand there and get pissed all you want, but it’s a legitimate fucking question. Do you have a mental health issu
e that would better explain the epic fucking mood swings?”
“I don’t have a mental health issue! You, however, have an innate ability to make me crazy! You got on the plane high, all but undressed me with your eyes, stole my sucker right out of my mouth, took pills, and couldn’t even walk, so I had to help you. In the cab, I was nice; you’re right. Then we get here, and you all but fall out of the damn thing. And I have to check us in because you’re all messed up.” Her hands flail in the air. “Then I can’t find you, and I worry that you’re out there, either lying on the damn cement or wandered off somewhere like a child.” She stops and looks at me like I am going to fight back.
Instead, I say nothing. I want her to keep going.
“Nothing? You have nothing to say?” Her hands slam down on her hips.
“I have a lot I could say, Sonya, but why bother? I’m tired. There are a couple beds in here. I’m gonna pick one, climb in it, and you’re going to do some self-reflection and get over this little foot stomping tantrum and come at me like an adult with some fucking truth or leave me the hell alone. You are pushing the wrong fucking man,” I say as I walk toward the bedroom on the left.
“Is that a threat?” she asks.
I keep walking. “No. Not a fucking threat. Figure out the reason your panties are damp every time you’re around me. Probably when you’re not and just thinking about me and what I do to you physically and emotionally. Then one of two things needs to happen.” I stop and turn around, and I swear she’s so angry she’s almost purple.
I pull off my shirt, kick off my shoes, drop my jeans, kick them off, turn, and climb in bed. “You either step up or step off.”
“You’re an ass!” I can’t help screaming as Finn climbs in bed completely nude and unashamed. Not that he has any reason to be ashamed, but well … “And a-a—”
He sits up and the blanket drops, exposing his very, very nice chest as he fluffs his pillow before looking at me, “Asleep in five unless you have other plans.”
“Like smothering you with a pillow?”
His eyebrow arches. “Told ya.”
“Told me what?” I literally stomp and then am mocked and rewarded with that damn grin.
“You’re either gonna fuck me or kill me.” He lies back and throws his hand over his face. “When you and your … other personalities figure it out, let me know, would ya? This shit is getting old, and I have other options.”