“You want another whiskey?” He asked.
I could see the flight attendant coming down the aisle again. “I’m good, thanks.”
He ordered another, and I waited to see if he’d remember that he hadn’t answered my question.
He did.
“I was, as I said earlier, at my best friend’s wedding. She and her husband left on their honeymoon, and after Bryant and I—Bryant is her other best friend I mentioned before—took Seth out for a guys’ night, my manager nearly had a heart attack. He also kept calling like the world’s nosiest mom,” he had a weird look on his face like he’d just smelled something bad. “So I went out to California, fired him, and now I’m running like hell home. This was the quickest way to do that.”
“Oh, you live in New York?”
He nodded. “It’s a great place. I’ve been there a long time, and I love it. I have a loft, and my studio and office are on the first and second floors of the building.”
“Well, you don’t have far to commute. That’s pretty nice.” I didn’t know what to say. It felt if I asked too much, I was heading into crazy fan territory.
He laughed. “I bought the building a couple of years back after my first album took off. I’m lazy as fu—I mean, I don’t want to have to travel a lot to get work done. Plus,” he looked up, and nodded at the attendant who handed him another glass, “it’s easier to keep my mom out. She was a problem for me at first. I’m sure you’ve read about her?”
Now it was my turn to nod. Xavier’s mom made nightmares look good. She’d abandoned him as a kid to various relatives. With a jolt, I remembered some of the interviews I’d seen with him. He said it was his one friend growing up that had saved him, along with their family. That must have been the best friend he’d been talking about—the one who’d just gotten married.
“I have. I’m sorry. Your mom always sounds as though she’s challenging.” I struggled to be politically correct. She was a nut, but you didn’t say that about other people’s mothers.
“She is. Now that I’m grown and independent, and not to mention, well-off, and she doesn’t have to do shit, she’s right there when she can be. You also get the occasional crazy fan, so having all my shit in one place means less hassle for my security.”
“I don’t know that I’d want to live like that.”
He shrugged. “Been doing it so long, I don’t even notice anymore.”
The seatbelt light came on, and the captain’s smooth voice told us that we were about to land. Where had the time gone? I busied myself with getting my things tucked away. I was so excited to meet someone I’d been watching for years, but this felt a bit awkward.
It hadn’t initially, but it had gone that way, and I didn’t know how to change it.
Xavier put his glasses back on. “I’m not trying to be a dick, but I’ll say goodbye—for now! Before we get off the plane. I don’t want you to get hassled because people see us talking.”
“You can’t be serious,” I started.
“I am. You wouldn’t believe some of the things people will do.” He adjusted his glasses, looking around. “Listen, I know you just put all your stuff away, but shoot me a text real quick.”
I hadn’t decided if I was going to, and with things being weird, I was leaning toward not contacting him. However, Xavier asking me to text outright, while he sat there, looking at me…I didn’t feel like I could refuse and not look like a jerk. So I pulled out my phone and texted the number he gave me.
He smiled when he read it.
‘As you wish’
“Princess Bride fan?”
I nodded, feeling more at ease. “Absolutely.”
“Awesome. Listen, I have a busy week, and I don’t want to be in the way of your spa thing, but can I text you?”
I nodded. Maybe we were just weird because…sometimes things went weird.
“I’ll do that, then. See if we can hook up.”
Oh dear. I hoped he didn’t mean what I thought he meant.
As the plane landed, we didn’t speak. He stood up when the door opened, and turned to me, one last time, leaning in and speaking quietly.
“I’m really glad I sat next to you.” He reached out with his hand and grabbed mine, squeezing a little.
The light touch sent a thrill through me I hadn’t felt in ages. “Me, too. I certainly didn’t expect something this nice to happen.”
I got to see his grin again, and the thrill raced down my spine. Good lord, his smile should be a lethal weapon. I’d been so worried about not coming off like a crazy stalker fan that I hadn’t looked at him much once he’d let me see who he was. What a waste of time on the plane! I could have been drinking in the beauty of him. He was beautiful. Hotter than a goat’s ass in a pepper patch, as Momma would say.
She would, too. One of her favorite sayings.
I follow him off the plane, admiring his behind. It’s quite nice. The muscles moved smoothly as he walked. Everything on him is nice and Xavier himself, even more so.
I hope he texts me. I hadn’t been enthusiastic before, but his touch fired something within me.
Maybe that made me shallow. I don’t know.
I know I have a stupid grin on my face as we walk down the ramp. Without warning, Xavier disappears. Woah. How did he manage that?
I don’t like to admit it, but I feel deflated with him gone. Why did I get all shy and stupid when I had a chance to talk and interact with him?
I’m still kicking myself as I gather my luggage and head out to the hired car area. Momma told me she’d booked me a car.
I spot a guy with my name on a card, and he leads me over to a limo. Momma. Of course. He whisks me off to the hotel, and I check in with no problem. The clerk hands me an envelope from The Red Door.
Within an hour of checking in, I’m at the spa, face down on a massage table, and getting the most amazing hot stone massage I’ve ever gotten in my life.
I should be thinking about my marriage, or how I screwed it up, or how to navigate the fight I just know is coming, but all I can think about is meeting Xavier on the plane.
I hope he texts me soon.
* * *
Four days later, I’m packing for my trip home tomorrow. The only people I’ve talked to since I’ve been here are nice strangers in the museums I go to in between spa appointments, and Momma and Lloyd regarding the state of my legal affairs.
Xavier has not texted me. Not a peep.
I even looked him up on Google, to see if there was anything in the news about what he is doing.
Nothing. Other than the pictures from the club he’d told me about. And lots of speculation about him. Along with some nasty interviews with a couple of his exes.
As well as a statement from him: “I am disappointed to see all the crap being said about me going to a club. For the record, I had a fantastic time. I’ve also heard some less than kind talk about the fact that Cobalt caters to a diverse clientele. Let me be clear—I support that wholeheartedly. To see all the negativity being spread around due to some stupid idea of intolerance is not only disheartening; it’s wrong. ”
The club, in response to this statement, mentioned he would be their guest the next time he came in. A social media thread between Xavier and the club followed that was hilarious.
I loved that he made a statement, but I hated that he hadn’t texted me. It felt like I was a balloon and each day that I didn’t hear from him, I deflated a little more.
Damn it. I’m so annoyed with myself; maybe that’s why I can’t sit still.
Finally, I have everything packed, and there is no reason to prowl around my room anymore. I don’t feel like heading out, not even down to the bar.
I get into my PJs and go to bed. Might as well get home and back to my real life.
3
Xavier
I can barely look at my phone. Fuck. I haven’t texted Olivia, and it’s been three days. I’ve picked up the phone and even started to text her, and then I stop.
I can’t explain why.
Nor can I explain why I keep thinking about her.
When I took her hand on the plane, I wanted to pull her closer, kiss the shit out of her, and drag her off somewhere that I could be with her naked, private, and not come out for days.
It scared the fuck out of me.
I wouldn’t admit that to anyone else, but I couldn’t deny it. Her touch both shocked and scared me, and I ran with all my might.
Didn’t stop the fricken phone from glaring accusingly at me every time I looked at it.
And I was well aware of how damn insane I sound, thinking a phone is glaring. But it’s better than owning the shit tons of guilt I felt every minute I let pass that I didn’t get in touch with her.
I hadn’t asked her how long she planned to be here. I didn’t ask where her hotel was. All I knew that she was spending serious time at Elizabeth Arden.
When I couldn’t take it anymore, I Googled it and called the spa. The snotty receptionist told me they valued their patrons’ privacy and she would neither confirm nor deny a patron’s presence at the salon.
Well, fuck.
I did my best to ignore it, and let two more days pass. Each time I looked at my phone, it felt like a giant mosquito bite that I couldn’t stop scratching.
So six days after I met Olivia on the plane, I texted her.
‘Hey Ms Olivia’
And waited.
For over an hour.
Fuck this.
Since I couldn’t sit still, I shoved the phone into my pocket and went down to the studio. I didn’t expect to find my favorite engineer, Markus, working on his own.
“Hey, man, what are you doing here?”
He looked up, sliding off his headphones. “Just doing a little more clean up. You know how it is, man.”
I smiled. “Yep. That’s why I won’t work with anyone else.” He is a genius at what he does. I pay a shit load to keep him working mainly for me. He’s freelance, which means he can work wherever and with whoever. He chooses to work mostly for me. He likes to tinker with the sound. We’d come to an agreement years ago that he could come in at will, and do his thing.
“You need anything from me?” I ask.
He shook his head, eyes on the board. “Nah, we’re good. You happy with the sound?”
“I haven’t heard it yet. You know I don’t listen until you’re done. Then I listen, and decide.” I take it up to my loft, and go into my sound room, and listen with a pad of paper, taking notes and going through each track measure by measure.
“You gonna drop this at the next show?”
I shrug. “Maybe a couple. Listen, you around if I come up with some new stuff? I got a lot of ideas rolling around.” Maybe if I wrote, I’d take my mind off Olivia.
He nodded, the hint of a smile lifting the corner of his lips. Markus is low key, and very laid back. Being around him was calming.
“Yeah, sure. You got something?” His eyebrows went up.
“No, actually, I came down to work. I can’t seem to focus upstairs.”
“I hear you,” he turned back to the board, slipping on the headphones once more. “Paper’s over there,” he indicated with his head.
I went to the file cabinet where he’d gestured towards and found some of my notepads and paper. I did better when I wrote down my lyric ideas. I know, I’m all old school and lacking in modern technology, but habits die hard.
I sat at the desk in the back of the booth and tapped my pen on the pad.
‘X’s and O’s
Whoa. Holy fucking whoa. Where did that come from?
I dropped the pen and ran my hands through my hair. At this rate, I might as well text her, and end the fucking agony. X and O. Xavier and Olivia. What the hell am I thinking?
An apology. A mea culpa from me, because I am a giant asshole.
We smile
We meet
We share the same seat
Can you see it
Do you want it
Xs and Os
The words are out of my brain and onto the paper before I even realize it. I let my head wander like this. But normally, I’m not in a twist about the subject.
I read over the lyrics. Okay, what the fuck? I sound like Lionel Ritchie. Not that he sucks, or anything, but that is not my sound. I toss the pen down again in disgust; only I can’t figure out what exactly I’m disgusted about most.
Maybe that I just fell into a vat of super sappy shit and I can’t even breathe?
Dude. Just fucking text her. Again. If you were her, you wouldn’t text back right away. Her feelings are hurt. Maybe she’s spa-ing. Or home. Or working. Something.
I pull out my phone.
‘Guess you’re workin. Text when u can’
I set the phone on the edge of the desk with the screen down, and pick up my pen again. I want to do this, but my way, not Lionel’s.
I touch your hand
It’s like you leave a brand
I can’t shake it
Good or bad
Now you’re gone
What do I do
All I want is you
O O O Xs and Os.
No. That’s not gonna work either. Fuck. I hold the pen, ready to cross the lines out, but I hesitate.
What did I feel when I met her?
The phone buzzes on the desk. I grab it, feeling nervous. I hope it’s her, and I also hope it’s not. She’s well within her rights to tell me to fuck off. I would if someone ignored me for a week after asking me out.
‘Surprised to hear from you.’
Oh shit. Those five words say it all. I feel shame wash over me. Like I was a dick, and probably didn’t need to be.
Okay. I was a dick. I need to find a way to make this better.
‘I’m sorry. Things got in the way. You still in NYC?’
Her response is a lot faster than the past hour and a half.
‘No. I flew home yesterday.’
‘Dammit. I’m sorry Olivia. I had things I had to do. How was spa?’
‘Amazing. Hate admitting my mom is right, but she is.’
‘I get that. What’s going on with other stuff?’
I want to ask her how her dickhead ex is but don’t know how else to ask. I haven’t been this nervous about a woman in I can’t remember how long.
‘Other stuff? You mean divorce stuff?’
‘Yeah’
‘R dug heels in. Fighting with my lawyer.’
‘Dick’
Like I should be calling anybody else names, but what the hell? Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
‘Agreed. He wants to set himself up, so he’s going to push back hard.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Thanks. My lawyer is enjoying it too much. I didn’t realize how many people didn’t like R. Would have been nice to know before I married him.’
With that, I can feel the pain in her words. All the things she believed have been pulled out from under her like a rug. I don’t have the same response when people are assholes. My rug got pulled away years ago. I’m only surprised when people don’t try and pull the rug. But I’ve never forgotten how it feels.
‘At least you’re not 60 and wondering what the hell?’
She doesn’t respond as fast. Shit. Did I just step over a line? I curse under my breath and look up to find Markus watching me.
“You okay, man?”
I nod. Honestly, I don’t know what to say. I’m trying to fix a fuck up, and I’m sweating over a chick? Most of the people I work with hate all the women I date, so they’d roll their eyes. I don’t even know if there’s anything with Olivia, much less a thing, so I don’t want to talk about it.
‘There’s that. Still feels terrible.’
Oh man. I am a dick. I decide to be honest, and whatever happens, happens.
‘Sure it does. But at least he showed himself to be an asshole now, rather than years in. You still have the chance to make life the way you want it. This sucked
even when my marriage ended, and we both wanted it to be over it sucked, but it had to happen. I think this needs to happen for you. I don’t know you well, but from what you told me you deserve better someone who will support you.’
I hesitate and then hit Send. It’s a big step for me to be that open, but something tells me if I’m not, I don’t have a chance in hell with this woman. That’s even if she can forgive me for being such a jerk about not calling.
I don’t even know if I want a chance, but I feel like I’d better make an effort. I’ve been kicking my ass all week. If that’s not a sign, I don’t know what is. Normally, I ignore this kind of thing with women, but…something is different. I can’t tell what it is—the phone buzzes again. I look down, feeling like an addict, wanting to know what she says.
‘Wow. That’s what I needed to hear. My mother hates R. She said the same thing that he never supported me, but it’s different hearing it from someone who doesn’t know any of us.’
Without thinking, I pump my fist in the air. It feels like I’ve won something, although I can’t tell what. But the fact that I ignored her for a week is not the killer I thought it would be.
Markus glances over at me, and I shake my head.
‘So what is on your week?’ I text fast, so she doesn’t disappear.
‘I have to get back to work and figure out what comes next. You?’
‘I’m in CA this week. Benefit show.’
‘Benefit for what?’
‘I do private shows for the Y for their donors’
‘You do? I’ve never heard that!’
‘I keep it quiet.’
‘Why?’
‘Not everything needs to be about publicity.’
One of the things that saved me, in addition to Tibby and her family, when I was growing up was being able to go to the Y. One of my teachers suggested to my mom, at a parent-teacher conference, that maybe I could take swimming lessons at the local Y. Mom must have been in a decent place because she signed me up. First and last time. But I kept going to the Y. Once the people there figured out my situation, they made sure to invite me to the free events and give me a place where I could be when Tibby wasn’t around. I had a soft spot in my heart for the Y. I don’t know what would have happened to me without them.
Forgotten Wishes: Djinn Everlasting Book Two Page 5