Another night of signings and meetings, another lonesome night away from home. Chicago is a busy city on a gorgeous June day and an even more spectacular evening, like tonight. People zipping by in cars, striding swiftly through peoplejams with the same practiced ease as New Yorkers.
I wanted to be home with my family instead of here. Obligations be damned. Fame and fortune weren't worth it when it took you so far from all you loved. I've been on the road for the past month, book signings, meet and greets, meetings with other publishers and the like.
Talking to my old man on the phone nightly wasn't making me feel any better. Since my book hit the best seller list, and the money started rolling in, my old man's been binge-ing, on anything he could get his hands on, booze, pills, and other "recreational" drugs.
Thank heavens, my youngest, our son, was visiting his grandparents back home for the summer, and wasn't there to see his father's speedy decline into addictdom. I wasn't either, but I had no choice. I'd heard a female voice in the background last night, knowing he was cheating even as he denied it. Just friends my ass.
Tired beyond tired, I glanced at the clock over the doorway, saw I had barely ten minutes left in this session and then I was free. I laughed to myself. Free? To do what? Go up to my room, alone, and what? Be a good girl?
Fuck that. I was feeling an incredible need for an alcoholic beverage, and as soon as I finished I was going straight to the hotel's bar to indulge. I wished my bestie, Jazz, was with me this trip. Hell, I was wishing anybody was with me this trip.
I signed the last copy, shook hands with the last of my fans and let the book store manager lead me out to the limo that would take me wherever I wanted to go. I asked Jake, the driver, to take a cruise before going back to the hotel. I sat, alone in the back of a twenty something foot limo, smoking out of my pipe, getting stoned, relaxing, trying to forget just how alone and lonely I am here in this huge city. Finally, Jake pulled up in front of my hotel and let me out.
Instead of going directly to my room, I detoured into the bar, got a Washington apple and moseyed into a dark corner to watch the few other patrons.
The bar sat beside the pool area, a lighted pool, and shimmery water. I went out, wandered along the pool edge, giving myself a ration of shit for wearing these ridiculously high heels, for wearing this slinky dress, for a frigging signing no less.
I wasn't paying much attention to my surroundings, I know, but I thought I was alone. Until I hit the water. I came up sputtering out water, steaming furiously. A hand reached out to me. I looked up into a face that was familiar and stunned.
I barely heard his apologies over the roar of fury in my ears. I took his hand and let him help me from the pool. One of the staff rushed out with warm, fluffy towels, which he carefully wrapped around me, apologizing over and over.
"I can't tell you how sorry I am..." I held up my hand, hoping to stop his words, which it did. I looked again at his face, saw his chagrin, saw his sincerity, saw his friend elbow him in the ribs, and caught his friend's mumbled, "Way to go, Champ."
Another staff person hurried out with a fluffy, white robe. I tried to rise from the lounger, realized I'd lost one of my shoes, sat back down, looked into the blue water, spied my shoe, glittering at the bottom, sighed, closed my eyes.
I slid my shoe off, thinking this was just THE most fucked up night of my life, and why hadn't I just gone to my room, when he interrupted my thoughts.
"Is there anything I can say, or do, to make this up to you? I never saw you, until I bumped you."
"I'd really appreciate my other shoe." I said quietly, without looking at him. I figured he'd ask one of hotel people to fish it out with the strainer or something. I didn't think he'd jump in for it, until I heard the splash and looked up.
His battered hat floated beside him as he crouched, fishing around for my Jimmy Choo. I felt the frown on my face melting slowly as I studied him.
He has dark honey hair that curled over the collar of his shirt, curling over his forehead, dripping wet. His face tanned, strongly chiseled cheek bones, leant him a Native face, complete with warm chocolate eyes, which were smiling at me. I felt the heat rising to my cheeks, but held his gaze. He looked away first, finding my shoe.
I let mind drift down over his shoulders, into the water, over his back. He held up my shoe with a sheepish grin, waded to the edge where I sat, pushed himself up in one smooth motion. My eyes took in how his shirt clung to his broad, muscled chest, almost flat plane of his abdomen, how his jeans sculpted his massive thighs, his toned calves. I looked up to see him offering my shoe.
"Thank you." I took it, set it beside its twin, rubbed my totally ruined hair with a towel. I stood barefoot before him, intending to go change, when he stopped me, again.
"Would you join us for dinner? I'd really like it if you would. Please." His voice was soft, gentle. A skittish colt flashed through my mind, giving me a small smile.
"Alright, I will but I need to change. I'll be back in a little bit." I let the towels drape, loosen, fall around my feet. His eyes streaked over me.
The foolishly slinky dress I'd been wearing was plastered to me like a second skin and it was itching hideously as it continued to tighten. I heard his sharp intake as I bent to gather the towels, looked up at him, saw his eyes darken, heat up. I piled the towels on the lounger, collected my ruined shoes and walked away, feeling his eyes on me, feeling a shiver of something, anticipation, nerves? Something.
I rode up to the fifth floor, went in my room, stopped in front of the mirror, seeing what he'd seen.
"Shit." Slinky had shrunk, it barely covered my ass now, and snugged my boobs almost out. I yanked it over my head, feeling the rats nest of hair on my head move. I ran for the shower, scrubbed, shampooed, conditioned, buffed, and polished.
I dried off, searching through my case for something comfy, picked out a pair of jean shorts and my favorite shirt, emerald green, silk, low cut. I tamed my mass of dark chestnut, walnut hair into a decent do, left a few wisps hanging loose. I slid my Croc sandals on, sighing after all the walking on spikes I'd done today.
I went back down to the pool, picking up another Washington apple on the way. They were both back out there, so I joined them. He stood when I approached, showing off his dry clothes.
"Where would you like to go?" His friend asked, standing beside him. His friend was more my height, while he towered over us.
"I'm not familiar with Chicago, so I haven't a clue."
"Do you like ribs?"
"Sure." I shrugged. They exchanged a grin.
"Southside, Elwood's Place." He suggested. His friend nodded. He offered his elbow, which I took, and led us through the hotel, to the valet station. His rental car was a Chrysler 300, black and angry looking. I climbed in the front beside him as his friend took the back.
He drove through the insane traffic like he'd been doing it every day. I heard the flick of a lighter, smelled the pungent, skunky aroma, and peeked over my shoulder to see his friend offer me a fat joint. I took it, dragged deep, passed it to him, watched as he took a hit. I finally let myself realize just what had happened tonight, and couldn't help laughing my hit out. "What?"
