Forgotten Wishes: Djinn Everlasting Book Two Page 4

  This woman, however, looks like a professional. She’s dressed casually, but her clothes are still professional. She doesn’t look like a groupie.

  Not enough skin is showing.

  I let my eyes come to rest on her face. Whatever I might have done is cut off by seeing her take another swig of her drink, and sort of choke as she does.

  Some shit is going on here. I let myself relax into the seat. Do I really want to get involved, even for something as trivial as talking on a plane ride? This sort of thing is how I have an ex Mrs. X, and numerous bitter ex-girlfriends. I don’t have a good track record, and my judgment seems to fall straight out of my ass when a nice face smiles at me.

  Tibby got mad at me once and told me no amount of groupies would fix the fact that my mom is crazy, and failed me my entire childhood.

  I shook my head a little. Christ, I didn’t need that right now. Just peace, and my drink.

  I snuck another glance at the woman. She’s a fan. Do I tell her it’s me? This could be a bad decision, but so what?

  She hits replay on the Trying Again video. Rubs at her face. That makes what? Two? Three times? Ah. That’s it. She’s on the rebound.

  I’m single. Not particularly fucked up about anything at the moment. I can handle a little shit from someone else. And I’m feeling all whatever after seeing my best friend get married.

  Not to mention I’m annoyed and restless. In spite of Bryant’s warning, I’d flown out to Los Angeles, and fired my manager. We weren’t a good fit.

  The good news got around. I’d noted at least ten messages on my phone before getting on the plane.

  I slide my headphones down, put my drink on the tray table in front of me, and hand her my little napkin. I can see tears coming down her cheeks even though she’s not making any noise.

  She looks up, her expression startled. Then her eyes move to my hand, holding out the napkin, and she slowly reaches up and takes it.

  She dabs at her eyes and pulls her earbuds out.

  “Thank you. I’m sorry to disturb you.”

  She’s from the south. I can hear the accent, even though she’s speaking in low tones.

  “You didn’t. I just happened to see that you were in need.”

  “Oh? Are you in the habit of rescuing damsels in distress?”

  I grinned. “Not at all. Not even close. But I’m not a complete ass.”

  “I’m surprised you can see anything behind those dark glasses.” Her tone sounded better, less I’m-about-to-throw-myself-off-a-cliff.

  “Oh, they’re necessary,” I leaned in towards her. She didn’t pull back.

  “Really?” Now she leaned in. “Why is that? Are you in disguise?”

  I had decided to talk to her because she’s hot, but she’s witty, too. I like that. Maybe being stuck on a commercial flight wouldn’t be so bad after all.

  I pulled down my glasses for a minute, gazing at her over the top of them. “I might be. I don’t usually fly commercial.”

  Would she recognize me?

  Would it be worth it to let her know who I am? The indecision was not an emotion that I experienced often. It made me decidedly uncomfortable.

  What the hell? What was the worst that could happen? Without warning, I heard my ex-manager Preston’s voice in my head.

  She could go to the press. She could tell everyone that you’re desperate. She could say you asked her to be a beard for the fact that you were finally caught doing what you wanted at a gay club.

  I shook my head a little. Shut the fuck up, Preston. I didn’t need this shit. It’s why I just fired him. I’d kept my word to Bryant—I hadn’t gotten fired.

  I watched Hot Chick next to me. Saw her eyes dart back and forth across my face and…did she just look at my lips? She might have, and then color flamed up her cheeks. Just as quickly it drained away.

  She looked down at her tablet and then back at me. “You’re him! Oh my God!”

  Thankfully, she spoke just above a whisper.

  “What are you doing flying with…with…”

  “With the general public?” I leaned in, taking off my glasses at the same time. I enjoyed the fact that her eyes widened and the color returned to her cheeks. It had been a long time since I’d seen a woman blush because of me, and it felt…nice.

  Innocent. Everything I didn’t have in my life anymore.

  “I had to go fire my manager. After we spoke, I got the first flight—or flights out of there I could. I didn’t want to hang around. Besides, no one sees what they don’t expect to see.” I shrugged.

  If she felt disconcerted by me, it seemed to have faded. I could see the humor in her eyes. “Probably because it’s not dark yet. No one expects that you’ll actually be up.”

  I laughed quietly. “Touché, smart ass.”

  “Didn’t I just see that you…um…”

  She’d seen the press on hanging out at Cobalt. “Came out?” I helpfully finished her sentence.

  She nodded. “Or is that just another means of getting press?”

  “You want the truth?”

  “Sure.”

  “I was out with my best friend’s fiancé, and we ended up there.”

  “What?”

  I could see her trying to make the connection. She wanted to ask questions but didn’t want to be rude. I took pity on her.

  “My best friend is a woman. I was out with her fiancé, and her best friend. Her other best friend is gay. The three of us went out together, and we let Bryant choose the club. Being slightly intoxicated, he picked one that he liked personally.”

  She stared at me for a moment and then started to laugh. “So you ended up there under no choice of your own, and now you’re a gay man? That’s hilarious!”

  “My manager, well my former manager, doesn’t think so, but…” I stopped for a moment, thinking. “I think I need to make a nice statement in support of those who are.” Christ. Look what happened when people thought I might be gay. It was like the end of the world or something. No wonder Bryant kept his private life private. Here I thought it wasn’t a big deal, but society was proving me way wrong.

  “I think that would be nice.” She looked over at me, and I could tell that she wanted to know what I was thinking, but was too polite to ask.

  “Hey, don’t mind me. I tend to get lost in my own shi—I mean, thoughts regularly. So if I go quiet, it’s nothing personal. I’m just thinking.”

  A look of relief flashed across her face. “No problem.”

  “So what’s your story? Who are you? I’m Xavier.”

  “I’m Olivia. I’m from Nashville.”

  Her face dropped, and an expression of such sadness showed on her face. “I’m going to take some time for myself in New York.”

  Ah-ha. This is the rebound thing. Let’s see if she tells me.

  “Been a rough week?” I took a sip of my drink, not making eye contact.

  “You could say that. My…my husband handed me divorce papers a couple of days ago.”

  Oh, shit. Rebound was one thing. Divorce was something else entirely. Lots more baggage from a dying marriage than from just a breakup.

  Shit, shit, shit. I was stuck next to her for at least another hour. I would need to keep up the conversation, keep it light.

  “Did he tell you why?” This seemed the safest direction.

  “He just said it was over, that we knew we were having problems, blah blah blah.” She sounded impatient. “Who knows? It didn’t sound very original, and he was sure to make this my fault. Even though I think he’s got something on the side.”

  Her accent got more pronounced as she got angry. That was…hot. Stop it, jackass, I told myself. This is more than you want to deal with.

  “Did he tell you he has a girlfriend?”

  She shook her head, and her dark curls moved around her face in a manner I could only describe as charming.

  “It’s just the way he talked to me, all smug. He’s found something he thinks is better.”
r />   “Do you know who?”

  “No, I…” She stopped. “I think I do, actually. If it’s who I think it is, he’s a stupid fool.”

  “Well, he’s that already.”

  Her head whipped towards me. “What do you mean?”

  “He let you go. What a dumbass.”

  The color moved up her cheeks again. I couldn’t believe how much I liked seeing that.

  “Thank you, that’s kind of you to say.”

  Now it was my turn to shake my head. “No. I’m not kind. I’m brutally honest. I don’t get anywhere otherwise, so it’s moved to all parts of my life. You’re a nice woman, and getting out of a relationship by cheating is just a jackass move.”

  “What, you’ve never cheated?” Her eyes narrowed. I could tell she thought I had.

  Fair enough. All kinds of shit was written about me every time a relationship imploded. It didn’t help that generally, my exes were rather bitter.

  “Nope. I just tell ‘em it’s over. Which brings out the nasty side in most people. People would rather be lied to, or let down gently. I don’t do either.”

  “I would rather know this way. He didn’t pull any punches. I’ll give him that. But I think he’s lying, and he wants me to support him.”

  “What, like a sugar momma?” I couldn’t help it. This was interesting, not your normal divorce case.

  “I own my own business. I make more than he does. I always have, because my mom and I are good at what we do. And now he wants alimony for life since he is claiming he helped support us as we built the business.”

  “Did he?” Women usually didn’t give a man much, if any credit for anything when shit went south. I wanted to hear what she’d say.

  “No. We gave him a job and offered him a share in the company. He thought it was a loser idea, and found another job, and refused shares. He figured we’d fail, and he didn’t want to be tied to the business, or,” her voice got very bitter, “Me, if things failed. But now that we’re successful, all of a sudden he was part of that. Damn that man!”

  “You gonna fight him?”

  The anger faded immediately as she looked at me with a grin that looked evil. “My momma is. She is a bitch on wheels when crossed, which I love. I’d love to grow up to be like her. And she has a boyfriend who is one of the biggest divorce shark lawyers in Nashville, so Royce’ll be lucky if he gets away with his boxer shorts.”

  I laughed. “His name is Royce? Are you kidding?”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “C’mon, Royce? That’s such a…” I wanted to say something really rude.

  “It’s not manly?” She covered her mouth with her hand.

  I could tell she wanted to laugh, too.

  “Not like Xavier.”

  “Or XTC?” Her brow arched.

  “Take you to awesome, baby,” I grinned. That was my tagline when I first started. I didn’t do drugs, though. Booze was more than enough for me. But people liked the play on words with the drug reference, and I got a lot of shit for promoting an illegal substance.

  All of which kept my sales going. Kind of the point, moral discussion aside.

  “I think you're a little hard on him,” she started.

  “Oh, you want to cut him some slack?” I shot back.

  Her eyes widened. “Touché.”

  “So what are your plans for New York?”

  She sighed. “Momma booked me the everything package at Elizabeth Arden.”

  “What the hell is that?”

  “It’s a spa. A famous one that my mother adores. It’s her cure for everything.”

  “I love spas,” I confessed, hoping like hell she wouldn’t head straight for the tabloids. It might kill my manager. Ex-manager. I’d need to work on getting him out of my head. I hadn’t realized he was so far in there. “I always feel lighter and younger.”

  That made her laugh. “You’re not old, Xavier!”

  “I work sixty, sometimes seventy hours a week. I wake up thinking about lyrics, and fall asleep thinking about the shit I gotta get done the next day. In between, I try to keep time for my creative production and put out fires.”

  “You need to hire better employees to help you with that,” she said firmly.

  I nodded. “I’ve been thinking the same thing, but it’s hard.”

  “Poor little rich boy?” Her tone mocked me.

  “Actually, yes. I need someone to trust with my finances, my personal shit, the people who are important to me—there aren’t many, but I’d die for them,” I said, thinking about Tibby, and Seth, and Bryant. “It’s hard because someone is always trying to game. The unfortunate fact of my business. So finding someone I can actually trust—yeah, it’s hard.”

  “I’m sorry. That was pretty nasty of me.”

  I shrugged. “No biggie. It’s part of the job. When you’re famous, and you have a lot of cash attached to that fame, and career, you attract assholes. I’ve learned to carry a big asshole swatter.”

  She laughed. “I can see why your lyrics do so well. You talk like you sing.”

  “Kind of the point, isn’t it? Sell yourself, sell your brand. So what else do you have planned?”

  Olivia shook her head. “I don’t know. I hadn’t gotten that far.”

  This was the perfect time to ask her for a date. The question is, did I want to?

  While I thought about it, the moment passed. It would have been awkward now. She wasn’t as much of a wreck as I’d suspected, and in some ways, she was. She was strong. And hot. And funny. And a hard worker.

  I could forgive a lot for hard work.

  But she had a business with her mom! What the hell?

  That was it, wasn’t it? What the hell?

  “So you wanna give me your number? Maybe while you’re there, we can go do dinner or something.” Holy fuck. Did that just come out of my mouth?

  She blushed. “That would be nice. You’re not expecting anything else, are you?”

  I sure as hell didn’t expect that. Talk about fuckin’ brutal honesty. “Why would you even ask that?”

  The blush deepened. “Because you live in a different world than me. I don’t have the same anything that you do in my life. I have no idea if what I read in the papers is true or what. I certainly don’t want to operate under any false expectations. Since you’ve been so nice to listen to all my bullshit, and not run away screaming or ask to move seats, I figure I ought to be honest with you.”

  Listening to her say ‘bullshit’ in that southern accent made me wish that I could toss out some insane expectation and have it be met. Goddamnit. I always did this to myself. Got attracted to someone that I needed just to smile, wave, and move on from.

  “I have no expectations,” I said instead. “It’s just dinner.”

  “Well, all right then.”

  “Here, give me your phone.”

  She dug into her bag and handed me a phone. I opened it, and went to her contacts, adding myself to her list. I used ‘Xavier.'

  “Text me, and I’ll add you to mine.”

  “Isn’t this a little cloak and dagger?”

  I could tell she wanted to laugh.

  “Maybe, but you get used to seeing the worst. I’d hate for people to take advantage of the fact that you and I sat here and had a nice conversation.”

  She looked around, and I could see fear move into her eyes. “People would do that?”

  “For a couple of bucks, people will do almost anything.” I didn’t even try to disguise the bitterness in my voice.

  “Okay, I’ll text you then.” She tucked the phone back into her bag.

  I didn’t know if I felt disappointed or relieved that she put her phone away. If she were just being nice, this would solve a lot of my concerns, wouldn’t it?

  If she were a plant for a news rag, I would just have to change my number again.

  There was generally no downside to this. Well, maybe a small one, thinking about how I found her intriguing and wouldn’t min
d getting to know her better. Even with the mountain of baggage that I could tell came with her.

  Shit. I had to ask. “So, where are the kids?” Because of course, a woman like this had kids.

  She shook her head. ‘No kids. We weren’t ready for them—well, when I was, he wasn’t. And we just couldn’t seem to get on the same schedule. Probably for the best,” She looked out the window. I could see that the lack of kids made her sad.

  But good for me, right?

  Sometimes I really was an asshole.

  Olivia

  I wished he hadn’t asked about kids. While Royce hadn’t said a thing, I figured that was part of the problem. With a newfound bitterness I didn’t entirely like, my first thought was that he’d blame me for that too, even though both of us were better off not having to deal with parenting kids from a failed marriage.

  I pushed that out of my mind for the moment. Plenty of time to go over and over my own lapses and failures. Right now, I needed to focus on the fact that XTC, who asked me to call him Xavier, as though we’re friends or something, had given me his phone number.

  Was it cool that I didn’t text him right away? I didn’t want to look like a sixteen-year-old who had no control. I’d seen him watch me as I put my phone away.

  This whole flight had the air of the surreal. Things like this didn’t happen to me.

  “Well,” Xavier said, “I think I’m sorry? I don’t know what to say.”

  He couldn’t have chosen anything better to say. I smiled, letting my pleasure show. My reward was seeing those red lips curve into a smile.

  What kind of hussy was I? I wasn’t divorced, only served with papers a week ago, and here I am watching another man’s lips?

  Then I thought about how Royce and I hadn’t had sex in…I didn’t even know how long. I was busy with work, and he always seemed distracted. It didn’t help, my awareness of his mood. I struggled with the feeling that I wasn't quite right. That there was something wrong with me. Otherwise, wouldn’t my husband be attracted to me?

  “Thank you,” I said. “I think not having kids when you want them is sad, but it’s obvious this wasn’t the person I should have had them with.” I took a deep breath. “Enough about me and my sob story. What’s your deal?” I plastered a non-gloomy expression on my face.