Coop: If we were on a deserted island, would you show me your tits then?
Coop: What about if we were the only survivors? I’d totally get an all-access pass, right? I mean we wouldn’t want to be the only people on that island forever. Eventually we’d need to repopulate, build our own little colony while we waited for rescue, like in the blue lagoon.
Me: First of all, we can’t build a colony. Our children can’t fuck one another. That’s called incest, you dumb fuck. Secondly, I was considering showing you my tits on a plane, but really now it just sounds like a bad porn version of that Samuel L. Jackson film. Thirdly, it’s the worst idea ever for you to be seeing my tits again. I’m not going to sleep with you, or Levi. No one is winning that bet. Now, it’s late. We have a plane to catch and I need to sleep.
Coop: We can sleep on the plane. I’ll hold your tits for you.
Me: There is something really wrong with you.
Coop: Yes, you’re right, there is something wrong with me. It’s called lack of boob-it-is. I need a doctor, or at the very least a sexy redheaded nurse.
I type “call your ex” into the message box, but then I think about his face when Levi had mentioned her the other day outside the studio and I feel guilty for even entertaining the idea. Promptly deleting the message before I can accidently hit send, I turn off my phone. I cover my head with the pillow in an attempt to block out the noise from Zed’s room and I try not to think about what was in that picture he sent me.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THIS ISN’T AWKWARD AT ALL
ALI
“So I have you sitting economy, Miss Jones.”
“Oh, that’s right,” Cooper says, clasping a hand on my shoulder and frowning apologetically. “I didn’t want to give you any special treatment, like you said.”
“So you’re all sitting business class, and I’m in economy?”
“Yep. If I recall you didn’t even really want to be here, did you?”
“Is there a problem? We still have a few seats left in business class. If you’d like, we can easily upgrade you for an extra fee.”
“No, she’s good in economy,” Coop says, eyeing the attendant’s name badge. “Thank you so much for your help, Carly.”
“You’re very welcome, Mr Ryan. Can I just say how much of a big fan I am?”
“Really?”
“I loved your first album, and I’ve pre-ordered the next through my local record store. I wish I’d known I’d be seeing you today. I would have brought something in for you to sign.”
“I wish you had too, though I’m happy to get creative if there’s a bathroom nearby?” Cooper says, and my mouth drops open as I glare at him and shake my head.
The attendant, Carly, actually just squeaks. It’s like any common sense she has just flies out the window and her snatch takes over doing the thinking for her. Yeah, okay, I can’t say I really blame her. The man who has been eyeing her suspiciously from behind the counter—probably her supervisor—leans into her space and asks, “Do we have a problem, Carly?”
“No, sir, everything is fine.”
Cooper appears to take pity on the girl and he reaches over the desk, grabbing a piece of paper and signing his name along with an impersonal “thanks for your support”.
I grab my ticket from the desk and take my bag through to security while the rest of the band talk to over-eager fans. We clear customs, and once we’re seated at the gate I pull out my phone and stare at the blank screen. I’m hit with a wave of sadness as I realise I don’t have anyone to text. I think of Grams, and how proud she would be of me seizing this opportunity, and I think of Brad and send out a little triumphant fuck you to wherever he is. The truth is I don’t miss him. In a sense, I feel like it was a wonder I hadn’t caught him cheating sooner. The last time we’d had sex was three months before our friendly neighbourhood stripper moved in. What man doesn’t want sex in three months? And it wasn’t for lack of trying. I’d tried repeatedly to get him to face our intimacy issues, but he was always too tired, or he just didn’t feel like it.
I’d felt like it a lot in those first weeks when he’d begun turning me down, but there’s only so much rejection a girl can take before she turns to her hand and then implements of vaginal destruction in the form of silicon penises. After a while, it just became the norm. I didn’t ask for sex, he didn’t offer it, and instead I found my solace in a vibrating nine-inch replica of porn star James Deen’s dick, who never left the seat up, never complained about how many orgasms I was having, and who was ridiculously girthy.
I don’t notice how lost I am in my thoughts until someone sits down beside me. Cooper. I don’t have to glance at him because I’d know his scent anywhere. It’s the smell of entitled arsehole, with a little bit of sexy-as-fuck thrown in.
“Who you calling?”
“Isn’t that the million dollar question?”
“Can I see that?” he asks, holding out his hand for my phone.
“No.”
“Give me the goddamned phone, Ali.”
“I don’t want to.” I glare at him and he yanks it off me anyway. He removes the back, pulls out the sim card and pockets it, then he stands and throws my phone in the bin.
“What are you doing?”
“I got you this earlier,” he says, handing me a brand new shiny smart phone. “Your old sim won’t work in it, and your shitty phone won’t work overseas. This way I’ll always know where to find you. I’ve programmed all of our numbers into it, including Deb’s and Leif’s, and James’s—he’s head of our road crew, so if you get stuck you call him.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“I want to know that you’re safe when you’re with us.”
“So that means getting me a new phone?”
“That means taking whatever measures I have to in order to make sure you’re looked after.”
“I don’t understand you.”
“Good, then the feeling is mutual.”
The hostess walks over to us and announces that they’ll board the band last to avoid everyone stalling as they walk past.
“Can my friend board with us too?” Coop asks.
“Is she in business class?”
“No.”
“Then I’m afraid she will have to board with the other economy passengers. She gives me a condescending smile, and then she turns back to Coop, fluttering her lashes, “I don’t usually do this, but do you think I could get a picture with you and the band?”
“Sure,” Coop smiles at the attendant. He gets up and presses the sim card from my old phone into my palm. “In case you need to call anyone from that old list.”
“Well even if I did want to, I have no way of finding the numbers on that list, so what difference does it make?” I say, and stare out the window at the giant jet I’m about to board. Cooper follows the attendant and poses for photos with the rest of the band. They all wear baseball caps pulled down low on their foreheads. Idiots. It’s not like we don’t know who they are because they’re wearing freaking caps.
I’m the seat behind business class, and when they finally board the band, I can see straight through their stupid curtain to Coop and Levi. They’re a row apart and each of them has three seats to themselves. I can see all this because not only did I not get first class, but also I didn’t even get a window seat. I got the aisle. And the guy next to me is so huge that he takes up his seat and half of the seat beside me, there are all of ten centimetres between his large body and mine. And I have to spend the next fourteen hours of the journey wedged in beside him.
I pull out my DS, but I’m wound way too tightly to do any damage to that sucker, so I put it away and stare at the phone Cooper gave me. It’s switched off because I don’t want to be the one bringing the damn plane down, but I stare at the shiny screen and then turn it over in my hands. When he handed it to me before I hadn’t looked at the case, I’d been too pissed that he’d just thrown my other phone in the bin, but I run my fingers over the
embossed bright green Gamers Only logo on the back. I shake my head and then put it away in my bag.
I’m exhausted. Between Zed’s banshees and Cooper’s text messages last night, I barely slept at all. I pull out a black eye mask that I bought from the newsagency before we boarded. I’m just about to put it on when the engines roar a little louder and the captain greets us with his welcoming message. I notice Cooper shifting restlessly in his seat. His hand grips the armrest tightly and his knuckles turn white. I feel kind of bad for him. He really wasn’t kidding when he said he was afraid of flying. Still, the bastard sat me in economy, so he can suck it.
About six hours into our flight and I’m staring at the wall in front of me. I’ve been hit in the elbow more times than I can count with the trolley, and the man beside me—Rick, yes, he introduced himself, and then he introduced me to pictures of his three dogs, eight cats and fourteen fucking birds—snores so loudly you’d think we were flying over the one millionth eruption of Mount Vesuvius. I’m about ready to strangle him with my headset when Coop slowly vacates his seat and stumbles toward the bathrooms, clutching the seats and partitions as he goes. He glances at me as he stumbles through the door to the bathrooms and then he shuts himself inside, looking positively green.
When he emerges, he stands in the aisle a second, and just stares at me.
“Hi,” I prompt.
“Hey.”
“How was the bathroom?”
“No nearly as calming as I thought it’d be.”
“Well, economy is lovely. Rick here—” I indicate towards the sleeping lump of a human beside me as he snores the plane down, even though he’s wearing those little nostril clamps that are supposed to prevent snoring. “Rick here regaled me with tales of his sovereign journey to Australia for the first six hours of our flight. He’s going back to the south where he’ll partake in his 100th Civil War re-enactment next weekend, but not before he visits his great aunt’s estate in LA.” I lower my voice, and I hiss, “You couldn’t even sit me near a freaking window?”
“I didn’t think you’d want the window.”
“I’ve never been overseas, Cooper, of course I want the window. Normal passengers want the damn window—”
He frowns, bites his lip, and then blurts out, “Will you come sit with me?”
“What?”
“I need a distraction. A big one.” He rakes his hands through his hair. They tremble slightly. “I need you to come sit with me.”
“You booked me in economy, I have to stay in economy. They don’t just let you get up and move seats because you want to.”
“I’ll talk to the flight attendant.”
“I’m really quite comfortable where I am, thank you,” I say, and pull out the magazine in the pocket before me. It’s a Qantas jet, so naturally I’m going to find people and places within Australia inside its pages. What I don’t expect to see is an exposé on Cooper Ryan, looking a hell of a lot more comfortable in front of the camera than he does up close.
“Please, Ali?”
“No. You’re a big boy, Cooper; I’m pretty sure you can handle a flight by yourself,” I say, and dismiss him by pulling my eye mask down over my face and snuggling into all of the extra awesome room I have here in my economy seat.
Several hours later, after tossing and turning for far too long, and feeling like a complete bitch, an attendant taps me on the arm. “Excuse me, miss, there seems to have been a problem with your seat. We’re upgrading you to business class.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“No, if you’ll just gather together your belongings and follow me.”
I shake my head. “What did he give you?”
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says apologetically. I feel kind of bad, because she genuinely seems like a nice person, but I’m not budging.
“Cooper Ryan, what did he give you?”
“I’m afraid I don’t—”
“I’m not moving until you tell me.”
She crouches down and whispers, “Please don’t say anything. My boyfriend is a huge fan. He promised us backstage passes to their next show.”
“He’s pretty desperate right about now, huh?”
“He’s a little unnerved, yes.”
“Lady, you so could have pushed him for more. I bet he’d be willing to barter just about anything for a distraction right now.”
“I don’t want to take advantage,” she says.
“He’s a rock star—if it’s one thing he knows how to do its take advantage, and Cooper Ryan practically invented that game. Write down your address and give it to me before we disembark,” I tell her. “I’ll see that he sends you more than backstage passes.”
“If you’ll just follow me, please?” She smiles sweetly, and I gather all my stuff together and do as she asks. When we reach Cooper he’s sitting with his head buried between his knees.
I feel a stab of remorse through my stomach when I see him there trembling, his dark curls wet with sweat. “Coop.”
“Oh thank fuck.” He sighs. The relief on his face is tangible. He grabs hold of my hand and squeezes hard. “You came.”
“I’m here.” I smile awkwardly at him. Yeesh. You’d think someone was dying. “You wanna move over, or am I just gonna stand for the rest of the trip?”
“I can’t go near the window,” he states. I glance at the window; the shutter is tightly drawn. It’s pitch black outside and all of the seats around us are shrouded in darkness. He gets to his feet and allows me to squeeze into the seats. Once I’m settled, he sits down and pushes back the armrest between us, and then he practically crawls into my lap.
“Oh, okay, hi,” I say as he rests his head on my shoulder. The sweat from his hair immediately soaks my T-shirt and his forehead practically burns my neck. “You’re kind of burning up. Why the hell are you wearing a coat?”
“In case we crash.”
“We’re not going to crash,” I say and push his head off of my shoulder. I attempt to remove his coat, but Cooper has other ideas. He clasps the lapels tightly in his white-knuckled grip.
“No, I need it.”
“If you hate flying this much, why do you do it?”
“Because it’s kind of hard to have a world tour without crossing the ocean in a big-arse metal box.” He winces and swallows hard. “Christ. I need a drink.”
“Coop, let go of the jacket. You’re sweating. You’re going to pass out.”
“That’s kind of the plan,” he says, and his knee is bouncing like crazy.
“Okay, if we’re going to make you pass out, we’re going to do it the right way.” I push the call button for the flight attendant. The same awestruck woman that dragged me into business class comes to tend to us.
“We need booze. A lot of booze.” She twists her perfectly painted red pout into a grimace and I say, “Please? He’s really freaking out. I’m sure he’d be happy to send your boyfriend a signed guitar.”
Cooper scowls at me and I give him an “it’s your funeral” glare. He glances up at the woman and says, “Whatever you want, it’s yours.”
“I don’t want to impose—”
“I’ll make sure he sends something nice,” I assure her. “Now, the alcohol, please?”
“Any preferences?”
“The strongest thing you have.”
She nods and scurries away, returning to us a minute later with four empty plastic cups and eight tiny bottles of Vodka. I pick up one, unscrew the cap and hand it to him, deciding that he can keep his jacket for a little longer, but as soon as he’s wasted that thing has to go. It seems a shame to cover up such nice arms. He downs one bottle after the other until he’s consumed four of the drinks. I take one for myself, because damn it, after the sleepless night I had at Zed’s and on the first few hours of our journey, I need a good hard drink ... among other things.
After he’s tossed back another he fiddles with the air con above our heads, and whispers, “Is it
hot in here?”
“It’s because you have on that jacket. Take it off and I won’t need to freeze to death under this air con.”
“I don’t wanna.”
“Take off the fucking jacket, Coop.”
“You could do it.”
“Fine, come here. I’ll take it off for you.”
I grab the lapels of his jacket and slowly peel one side off his shoulder, and then I peel off the other side and push the sleeves down his arms. I can’t help tracing my fingers over his hot flesh as I remove the jacket and fold it, placing it on the seat beside him. His eyes track my every movement, and his breathing disturbs the few strands of my hair that are hanging down from my messy top knot as it washes over me.
He licks his lips, his eyes trained solely on my mouth now. I’m like a zookeeper in a lion’s cage, wanting to back away, but not daring to make a move in case he lunges.
“Coop,” I whisper. “Have another drink.”
“Yeah, okay,” he says, but he doesn’t move to take one of the bottles, he just buries his head in his hands and rocks back and forth. I glance across the aisle. Deb, Leif and Ash are all asleep, but Zed’s watching us with a huge goofy grin on his face. He gives me a thumbs up and I roll my eyes, turning my attention back to Coop.
I touch his shoulder and he turns his head towards me, but he doesn’t sit up. “Hey, you’re going to drink this, and then you’re going to tell me something that you’d normally be too afraid to tell someone.”
“Like what?” he asks, sucking back the last drop in the bottle and slapping his fist against his broad chest.
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “Surprise me.”
“I want to take you in the bathroom and fuck the shit out of you until we touch down.”
“Okay,” I exhale in a loud rush. “How about something less in your face.”
He slowly sits up and reaches for another bottle of booze. “I knew I couldn’t keep my ex. I knew the second we left town for the city that she’d go running back to him. I knew she wasn’t in love with me, and that it would more than likely make her miserable, and yet I dragged her away from everything she knew because I wanted her, and I wanted my baby.”
Tainted: The Complete Enemies-to-Lovers Rock Star Romance Box Set Page 9