Olivia

I was crying. Not nice little rivers of tears artfully dropping from my eyes, either.

Big, huge sobs.

I drove out of the airport, and once I turned onto the road in front of it, the tears started, and I couldn’t stop them.

There was no way I could get on the highway like this. I could barely see, much less drive.

My nose was also running, which was all kinds of gross.

When I finally looked at my watch, I’d been sitting there for twenty minutes. I couldn’t just sit here, and I couldn’t get in touch with Xavier. He wouldn’t have his phone on him.

Maybe he’d just told me that, so that I wouldn’t call. Oh, God. Was I being dumped already? I didn’t know what to do.

I pulled out my phone and called Momma.

“Sugar bean, I didn’t expect to hear from you until tonight.”

Feeling a huge sense of déjà vu, I burst into tears at the sound of her voice.

I tried talking, but the words came out as unintelligible hiccups.

She didn’t say anything until my crying calmed a little.

“Olivia Anne, are you all right? Are you physically hurt?”

“No.”

“All right, can you drive?”

“I think so.”

“Drive slow, and come to my house, darlin’,” she said.

“O-okay,” I sniffled.

“Put down the phone, take your time, and I’ll see you in a little bit.”

She hung up. I set down the phone and applied the tissue again. I kept some of it out again in case I lost it on the way over.

Why did this hurt so damn bad?

Focus. Just get to Momma’s. Maybe this is a mistake, and it can all be sorted. She’ll help me look at this without being a sobby mess.

That was it, it had to be a mistake. He’ll be calling me soon.

With that thought, I sat up and headed for Momma’s. This sucked, but it would be okay.

If anything, I was taken aback by the strength of my reaction. When I had come to care for him like this?

The phone rang, and I grabbed it, hoping it was Xavier telling me he was fine so I could yell. Get this all out.

“Hello?”

“You are such a bitch.”

You know when a balloon has a tiny hole, and all the air leaks out rapidly? That was me. I gripped the steering wheel, so I didn’t drive off the road.

“Royce.”

“Why are you making this difficult?”

“Hold on for a moment, Royce,” I moved the phone to my handset, and hit speaker.

“…you’re just doing this because you’re pissed! Grow up and get over yourself, Li—Olivia.”

“Okay, first, Royce, I asked you to contact my attorney because I am not discussing the specifics with you. Second—”

He said, “I don’t—”

“Second!” I yelled, my worry and frustration coming out. “I have every right to be pissed. You screwed another woman, and then had the hellish nerve to show up, drop papers on me demanding a piece of everything that I built, with no help from you, and in fact, built into success despite you. So I can and will feel any damn way I want. And THIRD, I told you I am not discussing anything with you. We’re almost divorced. I don’t have to listen every time you have a temper tantrum because you’ve shit your own pants and are wanting someone else to wipe your ass! Do NOT call me again!” I punched End on the phone.

I stared out the window, listening to the silence inside my car. I couldn’t believe I’d just talked to him like that. I didn’t talk to anyone that way.

Although if anyone deserved it, it was Royce. Asshole. I couldn’t believe he was still calling me. Probably—

Oh, God. Because he thought he’d get farther bullying me.

How long had I just accepted this?

The realization that this was just the chickens coming home to roost in a situation I’d allowed made me start to cry again.

I grabbed the tissues I’d left in a handy spot, and swiped my face. It wasn’t much further, which meant I could get out of the car and cry on my momma’s shoulder.

I knew she’d ask what I was crying about. Apparently, I’d need to go down a numbered list. There was more than just one thing.

Which made me laugh. In that crazy, slightly unhinged way.

As I pulled into her driveway, I wondered if I was having a breakdown. JC on burnt toast, I couldn’t get myself in a straight line.

Momma was out the door before I even got out of the car.

“What is going on?”

“I am having either the worst day of my life or a nervous breakdown. I don’t know which one.”

“Where’s Xavier?”

I inhaled. Please don’t let her say it.

“His plane never took off. So he wasn’t there when I went to pick him up.”

Momma looked at me. Her nostrils flared, but all she said was, “Come in and let’s talk.”

I followed her in and found Lloyd sitting in the front room.

“Hey, Lloyd—hey, did you do something else with the divorce that I don’t know about?”

He looked at Momma, and they both snickered.

“Yes, dear, we did.”

They looked gleeful, which distracted me from my crisis for a moment. “Okay, what? I got a call from Royce, and before I screamed at him and hung up, I got the impression he had a new burr under his ass to bitch about.”

This made them both laugh even more.

“What did you two do? I don’t need your mean girl stuff making it tougher for me.”

That sobered Momma immediately. “As if we would do anything to jeopardize you legally. No, my suspicious daughter, the only thing we did was enforce the law.”

“How?”

Lloyd sat back down. “It wasn’t even deliberate. I’ve had my PI following Royce and the young lady—Suzan? And he called me two nights ago letting me know that I might want to check the arrest records the next morning. Apparently, Suzan was out with friends, drank too much, and then got in the car to drive home. He said she was really drunk, and he didn’t feel he had any options other than to call the cops. So now, not only does Royce find his legal position is shaky, his lady love is facing DUI charges, and…did you tell her yet?” He looked at Momma.

“No, I haven’t had the chance.” She grinned. “Remember that I told you that Jessie was still friends with Suzan? Well, Lloyd reminded me that any and all emails sent from one of our web addresses are our property, and suggested that we take a look. And honey did we hit gold!”

“What did you find?”

“After Suzan left, and the news came out about you and Royce,” her mouth twisted, “Jessie emailed and asked her if the rumors were true, and not only did the bimbo admit it, she also said that Royce was going to get our agency for her to run! Can you believe the nerve of that girl?”

I nodded. “I can. I also reported her actions to the university. If she’s going to intern, she really shouldn’t be sleeping with the boss’s husband.”

“I can’t believe she thought she’d just toss you out,” Momma was indignant.

“I can’t believe she believed Royce,” I said. “But she’s young. I was fooled, too. So how much of this does Royce know? What is it he’s blaming me for?”

Momma shrugged. “No one but us knows about the emails. But the DUI—well, since he’s shacked up with her, he has to know about that. Maybe he blames you? Who knows? That man has never taken responsibility for anything other than good things and other people’s efforts.”

Exactly the sort of thing I’d screamed at Royce.

“Enough of him. What is going on, Olivia? You scared me when you called.”

“Like I told you, I was supposed to meet the plane this morning. It didn’t show up because it never left Los Angeles. The pilot notes said the passenger never showed up.” I could feel tears welling up. I ignored them and went on.

“Xavier told me it was something going on Friday night. But I read an online gossip piece that it was all weekend. He also told me it was a no cell party—that everyone had to hand over their cell phones, so no bad pictures get out, apparently. I can’t even call him.”

“Call him now,” said Momma.

I pulled out my phone and texted. I didn’t want to try and talk when I was such a mess.

‘Hey, you okay? The plane didn’t leave, so it obviously didn’t get here. I’m worried.’

Then I stared at it, willing an answer to come back fast like he usually did.

Nothing.

“So that’s it? He didn’t show up?” Lloyd asked.

“Being stood up is nothing to scoff at,” Momma rounded on him, hands on hips. “C’mon, honey, let’s go have some coffee. He’ll get back to you.”

“What if he’s hurt?”

“You think that wouldn’t be in the news?” She towed me into the kitchen, where a pot of coffee was already brewed. “Someone like him?”

She had a point. I sat down, feeling even more like the deflated balloon.

Waiting sucked.

* * *

Later that day, I gave up and went home. Xavier didn’t text. I hadn’t found anything online, despite being a stalker and searching several times. Momma finally took the phone from me and sat on it while we watched a movie.

What could have happened? My mind went to all sorts of things but kept coming back to the simplest, easiest answer.

He didn’t want to see me anymore, and this was his way of telling me. Part of me not only wasn’t surprised but didn’t blame him.

I wasn’t anything special, couldn’t even manage to keep a jerk content. Why did I think I could be good enough for someone as amazing as Xavier?

Well, he’d be amazing if he wasn’t ghosting me.

I hoped he wasn’t. I’d rather him just tell me.

When I finally flopped into my bed, I plugged the phone in and put it on my bedside table. I didn’t want to miss his call. If he called. I was still hanging on to some sort of hope.

No matter what he said, I had to hear it from him. Even if ‘it’ would break my heart.

The sunlight hurt my eyes. I looked over at the clock and saw that it was morning, and somehow I’d slept through the night.

Feeling like an addict, I went for my phone—nothing. No call, no text.

Nothing.

Just like an addict about to hit rock bottom and taking the hit anyway, I searched the site where I’d initially seen the news about this thing being all weekend and not just one night.

There were pictures. I hit the slideshow button, cursing my phone for taking too damn long.

Scrolling through, there were pictures of the guy that I guessed was his friend proposing to the girlfriend, her crying, the ring—and then I saw it.

Xavier.

With a woman wearing what I supposed was called a bikini lounging on his lap. With her hand on his face.

I studied his face. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. It looked like a lot of his pictures that were public.

But he wasn’t pushing the perfect looking nearly naked woman off his lap, was he?

Or brushing her hand away from his face. The face I’d only been touching a few days ago.

The face, I admitted to myself, that I was starting to think of as mine.

Studying the picture, as much as I wanted to, I couldn’t find any major faults in the woman. She was gorgeous. And she was with my date this weekend.

Was this why he hadn’t gotten on the plane?

Or even called to cancel?

It’s not like I wouldn’t understand. I’ve been in a state of shock on one level ever since I met him. I’m not part of his world. She is.

Setting the phone down ensures that it doesn’t get thrown across the room. I get up, leaving the phone on my bed, and head for the kitchen. I need coffee.

As I start to make it, I see the label, and the tears burst forth like a dam breaking.

It’s Community chicory coffee.

* * *

Xavier

“What the hell do you mean, it’s all weekend?”

I stare at Marcus, lost for words for once. This can’t be happening. I have plans. I have a plane waiting for me.

Olivia is going to kill me. Well, I don’t know that. But if I were her, I would kill me. I’m gonna look like a dick because I already stood her up once.

I can explain, I know that. But it will be another hurdle to this budding whatever, and I don’t think it needs that kind of hit.

Damn it all to hell.

“I have plans this weekend, man!” I said, unable to keep the frustration from spilling over into my voice. “Plans I cannot change, Marcus.”

He held up his hands. “Hey, hang on, man. Kristine,” he said to his girlfriend, “Give us a minute, okay?”

She looked from him to me, and then back at him. He nodded, and with a half-smile, she left, tossing one last nervous look over her shoulder.

“Okay, look, we’ll just talk to the captain, or whoever it is that’s driving this thing, and see if we can get you off here, okay?” He looked at me earnestly, not wanting me to pull the plug. Jazmine hadn’t sung yet. She was on for during and after dinner, and Marcus had already arranged for a couple of minutes to pop the question.

“Listen, no, you do your thing,” I said. This was his time to set his life up for the future. “I just wish I’d known this was all weekend.” I would have insisted that Olivia come with me.

“You sure, man?”

“No, but I’ll work it out.” I cursed the fact that I hadn’t told anyone about her so that they would know how important she and our time was.

Damn it.

I threaded my way through the crowd of people as Marcus left to find Kristine. Nodding and muttering as I did so—I didn’t need to offend everyone this weekend, even though this kind of thing had never been my scene.

I found the bridge, and a guy who looked too young to be driving this thing ignored all the noise around him, focused on the space in front of him.

“Excuse me?”

He turned. “How can I help you, sir?”

“When are we getting back to land? Where are we docking next?”

“Los Cabos, sir.” He gave me a smile. “We have great weather all the way down.”

“I’m sorry,” I shook my head a little. “Did you say Los Cabos? How long is this cruise?”

“We’ll be down there tomorrow, and there’s another show with Jazmine and fireworks, and we head back right after that. We’ll be back in LA by Sunday evening. Earlier rather than later.” Another perfect grin.

“I really, really need to get off this boat before then.”

The grin fell away like ice in hell. “I’m sorry, sir, but we’re not scheduled to stop anywhere. It’s basically one long ride.”

“Oh, shit. Is there any way I can use a phone?”

“I’m sorry,” he really did look sorry. “But this trip was designated no phones, no cells, no cameras. All of the guests agreed to it.”

I waved a hand and turned and walked from the bridge. “You have got to be fucking kidding me,” I muttered. “It’s like the digital dark ages here.”

Who was in charge of this thing? I had the guy’s name…on my phone. That was in a bucket, locked in the ship’s safe.

It had been a big deal when they walked the bucket downstairs. I looked around. I knew, if I didn’t want to get the hell out of here, that I would enjoy the chance to be out on the water with people who wouldn’t be after something from me—there were mostly other people in the entertainment business here—and no pictures. While this was basically an industry thing, I’d seen plenty of young, scantily dressed men and women that suggested there was full-service entertainment as well.

And again, with no cameras.

A treat most of us didn’t get very often outside of our homes and private compounds.

But a complete pain my ass at the moment.

I took a drink off a waiter passing by with champagne, needing something to hold onto. How was I going to get out of this?

Maybe there was somewhere on the boat where a computer was open or something. Anything. It couldn’t be a complete communication blackout.

I prowled around the main deck, and then slipped down the stairs on a stairway I found almost hidden away at the back of the cabin. There had to be a computer somewhere.

An hour later, I had to give up. I’d snooped everywhere I could, including all the cabins. There was one with my name on it, I’d noticed. How had this happened without me realizing it? How did I not even clue into the fact this was a weekend gig? I hadn’t packed a thing, but curiosity led me to check out ‘my’ room, and there was everything I would need. Marcus and Kristine had one, too.

Damn it to hell.

“Okay,” I said to myself, “This is not the end of the world. She’ll understand when I explain to her. It was just a mistake, and I’ll make it up to her.”

But I hated that she would worry. That’s what normal people did when someone didn’t show up. They worried. And I couldn’t find any way to get word to her. When they’d said no communication, the planners obviously took this shit seriously.

I didn’t get that—why try and be famous if this was what you wanted to do? Much better to party like a crazed person at your own place. I could tell, just by the atmosphere on deck that this was going to get crazy.

I’d have to make sure to keep myself out of it.

As I came back on deck, I found the bar. “A sparkling water with lime,” I said. I wanted to stay sober, so I didn’t do anything stupid.

She handed it over with a beaming smile. “Here you are, Mr. XTC.”

I turned away. That smile came loaded with all kinds of offers, none of which I was interested in. But I didn’t want to be rude or ruffle any feathers. I just wanted to get through this damn thing.

* * *

Sunday morning, I was one of the first people awake. Last night had been insane, and I’d had to run and hide in my cabin. Someone of the feminine persuasion had banged on my door in the middle of the night, but I pulled the pillow over my head and ignored them.

I’d had to run and hide. Before I’d finally fled, I’d been sitting on the deck, minding my own business, making small talk with, of all people, Jazmine Sullivan, who’d gotten me into this mess by being awesome, and a gaggle of the young women I’d seen moving around had stopped.

“You’re XTC,” one of them giggled.

She was a little slurred in her speech, but I made nice. When you made nice, people would usually move along.

“I am. And I can see you’re having a good time, so don’t let me stop you.”

“Oh, no,” she took a few steps forward, and then turned and fell into my lap, causing Jazmine to scoot away with a look of annoyance on her face. So much for making nice getting her to move on.

The girl threw her arms around my neck and planted a sloppy kiss on the face. It would have been on my lips had I not seen it coming.

“I’ve been looking for you all day,” she whispered loudly. “I’m your biggest, hugest, best fan.”

“Christ,” I muttered, glancing over at Jazmine. She snickered and got up.

“Traitor!” I yelled at her back.

“Wha?” The girl in my lap said.

“I need you to please get up,” I said. “I am delighted you’re such a great fan, but I’m heading off for the night.”

“Oh, I can head off with you,” she tightened her arms around my neck and pulled me close to her.

I could hear people talking behind her friends, and without warning, the girl was moved from my lap. Two men in white uniforms pulled her away. She was protesting, but I couldn’t understand what she was saying, and I didn’t care.

I got the hell out.

So now that it was Sunday, I was restless, waiting to get back into LA and a phone and Olivia. I’d been pissed as hell that I’d been trapped in this, but Friday night, I’d decided that there was no getting around this, as it had been planned so well.

So I talked with other singers, got a couple of recommendations for managers, shot the shit and didn’t drink. Me and the sparkling water got real cozy.

I also saw how out of control some of my fellow entertainer types got, and I wondered when I drank and partied like normal, if I was that bad. That much of an asshole. Normally, I wouldn’t have been all that bothered by lap girl. Regardless of my relationship status.

But now—it all seemed hard and desperate.

Maybe it was just this thing and my irritation at being trapped here.

I headed for the bridge. A different guy, older this time, was in what I guessed was the driver’s seat.

“Can you tell me when we’ll get our phones back?” I tried really hard to keep the irritation from my words.

“We’re about three hours out, sir, so about an hour before we dock.”

“You can’t—”

“No, sir, I’m sorry. That was part of the contract.” He looked forward again.

Clearly, this conversation was over.

I went back on deck to find a safe spot to wait it out. We were almost back. Then I could get on with the business of repairing the mess of my weekend.