Xavier

I leaned back on the couch, glaring at the spot where my phone landed. My ears felt like they were ringing. I’d cut off Preston, my manager, in the middle of the ranty bullshit he delivered to me. Still not happy about the night out at a gay club. Rather, not happy about me being out without a thousand bodyguards who broke cell phone cameras for fun.

Yeah, he was a little behind the times. You can’t do that shit. People sue, and I end up paying. Press is good; lawsuits are not. Christ. Wasn’t it his job to tell me that kind of thing?

I wondered how Tibby and Seth were. I flew home last night, and honestly, didn’t expect to hear anything from them. I told Bryant to call if he needed anything, but that came out lame even to my ears. I dragged my feet coming home, and I couldn’t figure out why. I loved New York, loved that I got lost in it, and loved my place.

So what the fuck?

I ignored the phone ringing. I knew Preston wouldn’t let it go, and felt the need to call back and bitch some more. To hell with him.

I dialed Bryant.

“What’s up?” He answered on the second ring.

“I hate my manager. He’s a prick. I need new management.”

“You know we do shipping, right?”

“Yeah, but Tib always looks over everything for me. She vets it, makes sure I don’t overpay, whatever. She found me the web people.”

He sighed. “Okay. But only because you’re family, even if you are a giant pain in the ass. Why now?”

“Preston can’t get over himself. For whatever reason, he thinks it’s his job to yell.”

“You sound about twelve, X. I almost feel sorry for the guy.”

“Don’t. I pay him enough to learn to work with me. It’s not that hard. I’m not a complete asshole.”

“I shouldn’t help you at all. I think I’m still hungover.”

“Lightweight. Ask around, okay? You can dump it on Tib when she comes home. She’ll be thrilled.”

“I’m sure. All right. Don’t get fired yet, okay?”

“Got it.”

We hung up. One thing sorted. I’d find someone else, and get rid of the nag.

Something fell on my head, and I reached up to brush it off automatically. What the hell now?

I looked at my hand, and it had glitter all over it. Looking up, I saw…I don’t know what the fuck I saw. A cloud of glitter. It looked like a crazy craft fairy had exploded above me.

What the hell was all this doing in my apartment? If I called maintenance, maybe they’d still be around. Even though I owned the building, I kept a maintenance crew. I wasn’t up for dealing with all the things that went wrong in older buildings in New York. Was there a leak or something? This was the day for dealing with the bullshit, apparently. I reached for the phone when the glittering cloud landed in front of me.

“Are you quite over moping around and feeling sorry for yourself?”

I rubbed my eyes. Since when did glitter talk? I glanced at the glass of tea I’d been drinking. I hadn’t added anything to it.

“This is not a hallucination, and no, you are not drugged.”

All right. What. The. Fuck?

The glitter cloud shifted around, and I found that a guy sat on the couch with me. And what a guy! He had no shirt on, which…oh hell. Did someone get ideas from our clubbing the other night?

“Hey, pal, whatever it is, I’m not into it. Just leave now, and I won’t call the cops.”

The guy sighed. “You don’t need to call anyone. I’m here to help you.”

“Right, pal. That’s what all the nut jobs say.” I edged away, wondering where the fuck I kept something that could be used as a weapon. I hadn’t had a stalker since…since that weird chick – what was her name? Tommie? She thought she had a career in music, and I was just the guy to help her get there. I’d had to take out a restraining order on her. But she hadn’t been a problem in a couple of years. It’s why I lived in a building with security. No need for weapons.

I wished I had one now.

The guy leaned back, and I hoped like hell his paint job wouldn’t rub off on my couch.

“I am here to help you, although you’re rather an ingrate,” He said.

“How the hell am I supposed to be grateful for the glitter fairy breaking into my place and messing it up?” I shot back.

“I am not a fairy. I’m a djinn, and I’m here to give you something you want if you could get out of your own way, boy,” he said.

Right. A djinn. What the hell is that? “You’re a what? What’s your name, glitter boy?”

He rose from my couch, and when I say rose, I mean floating. Full on ghost liftoff. I didn’t often find myself speechless, but I couldn’t say a thing. My mouth tried, but the words wouldn’t come out.

For the first time, I felt fear. What the hell was going on? This went way beyond normal stalking crap.

“Close your mouth, and open your ears and more importantly, your mind, Xavier,” the man said. “My name is Dhameer, and I am here, as I’ve said, to offer you help in attaining something you want. Not give, you’ll note. But help.” He crossed his arms and glared at me.

I gauged the difference from where I sat to where he…floated…above my couch. Took a deep breath, and pushed off. Maybe I could…

I fell onto the couch with such force that I bounced off and landed at the other end. I looked up and saw Dhameer had risen higher up, and still glared at me.

“I know you’re not stupid,” he said. “But you’re intent on trying to show me otherwise.”

I rubbed my head. That fucking hurt.

“You’re not going to be able to hurt me, Xavier. But we can play this game until you wear yourself out and are ready to listen to reason. Or I could just leave.”

I opened my mouth to tell him to get the fuck out when something Tibby said yesterday came back to me.

We’d been standing together waiting for the limo.

“If anything weird happens, while I’m gone…just go with it, okay?”

“What the hell does that mean?” I asked.

The Tibby I knew came back instantly. “It means that if something out of the ordinary happens, just go with it. Stop being an ass and take some well-meant advice for once in your life!”

I’m not a big believer in a lot of hocus pocus shit. It has no place in the real world, for me. But there was glitter boy hovering around my place, basically laughing at me while offering…something. I didn’t know what. And after Tib suggested going with anything weird that happened.

How could she have known?

I rubbed my head, negating my concerns on that front. She didn’t. It was a coincidence, and the universe conspired to pass on a message I would listen to. I generally only listened to my manager and Tibby.

Okay. So maybe this guy is real. “What the hell is a djinn? And do you have to spread the glitter shit all over my place?”

He hovered closer to me. “There. Wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“Don’t push it. Can the glitter please stop?”

Now he looked offended. “No. It’s part of me. As for me, I am a djinn. That’s also another name for a genie.”

“Where’s the bottle?” The Aguilera song immediately went through my head.

The guy rolled his eyes. “No bottle. I’m going to have to make this simple, aren’t I?”

The sense that I was fucking something up hit me. It didn’t happen often, but when it did, I’d learned to pay attention. I held out my hands. “Okay, okay, wait! I’ll listen. You’re a genie, so what? What are you doing here?”

That must have been the right thing to say because the pissed expression left almost right away.

“I am here to offer you the chance to find what it is you want, Xavier.”

“What the hell—I mean, what does that mean? I have everything I want.”

He didn’t say anything, only raised a single brow at me.

“Okay, sure, I don’t have everything, but no one does. What’s your name again?”

“Dhameer. And why can’t people get what they want?”

“Because the world doesn’t work that way,” I shot back. Shit, even I could hear the bitterness in my reply.

Dhameer shook his head slowly. “But you could. You just need to get out of your own way. What have you wished for—” he held up a hand, “I mean, really wished for, something that is at the core of you and what you want?”

That stopped me. How could he know that I’d wished for something like Tibby and Seth’s relationship only twenty-four hours ago?

Dhameer nodded. “It’s coming back to you, isn’t it? I heard your wish at the wedding yesterday.”

“You were there?” I did sound stupid.

He smiled. “I like to see people happy, so I happened by. I could hear your wishes.”

“You’re a mind reader?” Oh, shit.

“No. I don’t have the patience for that kind of curse. No, I hear wishes. Real wishes, wishes that come from the soul. You had one of those yesterday.”

I didn’t know what to say. I took the safe route and kept quiet.

“So I am willing to help you achieve that wish.”

“What’s the catch?” Nothing came for free, ever.

“I’ll give you exactly what you want. That means there may be things that aren’t always positive.”

That sounded more like it. Everything too good to be true usually is.

“So what are you giving me here?” I still didn’t understand how this helped me.

“What do you want, Xavier? And don’t be your normal self. Tell me what prompted that wish so strongly yesterday. That’s what caught my attention.” He’d dropped down to the point that he looked like he sat on the sofa.

I got up and sat in a chair across from him. “I want someone who looks at me like Seth looked at Tibby.” Damn, that sounded pathetic as hell.

“What about how you look at someone else?”

I started. “I’ve never met anyone like that.”

“Yet you want someone to behave that way towards you?” Now both eyebrows raised.

I didn’t like the feeling that I’d give the wrong answer. I didn’t give wrong answers. If they weren’t right, I made things happen, so they were the right answers.

“Well, yeah.”

He sighed, and looked away from me, out the window. “That wasn’t exactly what I hoped to hear. Your wish yesterday…well, that doesn’t matter. I have offered to help you, and so I shall.”

I held up a hand. “Wait, what the hell are you talking about?”

He shook his head and waved his hand—and more fucking glitter—at me. “It doesn’t matter. I do not go back on my word. You wish to find someone who will look at you the way you saw your friends looking at one another. Very well. You shall find her.”

“What? When? What, you just wave your hand, and it happens? That’s it?”

Dhameer sighed. “Pretty much. Djinn are designed to make things happen. Here’s the deal. You’ll meet someone who, if you don’t get in your own way, which seems to be a struggle for you, will look at you the way you wish for. Within the next month, or so. That means you’ll need to pay attention to those around you, Xavier.”

What the fuck? “I pay attention to everything around me. How do you think I got to where I am?”

“Alone, scores of broken relationships behind you, and only a few friends? I’m not sure I’d call that success.”

I could feel my temper rising. First, he breaks in and makes a fucking mess, and then he insults me? People have been beaten down for less.

“You’ll need to be aware of the new people around you. Can you manage that?”

“Why can’t you just magic her here, or something?”

“Because humans don’t value the things that are given to them, unfortunately.”

“You have a low opinion of the people you’re helping, then. Why bother?”

Dhameer sighed. “I love humans. I was created to help them. Being free to do what I want doesn’t change that. So I still help them. On my terms, however. I’ve been around long enough to know that outright gifts are not the best choice. So you must be part of this and earn it. She’ll be in your life. It will be up to you to keep her there.”

This didn’t make any sense. “It’s not really giving me anything at all, is it? The world is full of maybes and possibles. I come across women all the time who could…be the one. How is what you’re offering any different?”

“You’ll have to take my word for it that it is different. Are you willing to try?”

He would have been a good negotiator. He didn’t give an inch and matched me glare for glare.

I shrugged. “Sure, whatever.”

Dhameer looked at me, and I could swear that for a moment, I saw sadness cross his face. But I blinked and figured I must be imagining things.

Dhameer

It felt wrong to gift anything to this spoiled man-child. He had indeed made a wish from the heart yesterday. Even Dhameer had felt a pang at seeing Tibby and Seth together. So it didn’t surprise him that her best friend would feel something similar.

However, for the first time in a while, he wondered if he’d made a mistake. Tibby had been a joy. The real feeling, the emotion he’d felt from Xavier yesterday had spurred him to make the offer. The fact that it was one more wish from the heart, a wish that counted against the ten thousand—that hadn’t hurt. When he’d met Tibby, he’d had no idea that she would help him reach his goal as well. He was so close. He sighed. He’d help this wish to happen, at least, as best he could.

Xavier was not as he expected. Now, unlike yesterday, the man acted as though a little boy. Spoiled, unwilling to do anything to help himself. He knew from Tibby that Xavier worked hard, and came from nothing, depending only on himself and his abilities.

So where had that fallen off?

“How will I know?”

Xavier’s voice broke into his thoughts.

“How will you know what?”

“How will I know that the woman is the right one?”

The man had no shame. He wanted the love of another handed to him like something on a platter. Gave no thought to what it took for someone to give that—had no sense that it was a gift, an exchange. Normally he didn’t let the foolishness of humans bother him, but this man did. Only his honor as a djinn, the fact that he knew he’d given his word, prevented him from vanishing and removing all memory from this ingrate shell of a man.

“You will know. The question is, Xavier, will you see it to know it?”

Xavier rolled his eyes and expelled his breath in an impatient huff. “Man, you are talking all kinds of crazy.”

“Well, we shall see, won’t we?”

Xavier stood up. “Look, if you’re just playing games, get the hell out. I have enough going on without you coming in here, making a damn mess with your glitter and shit, and handing out riddles like they’re candy!”

Dhameer waved a hand. Xavier stilled in mid-rant.

“You will remember, but forget,” Dhameer spoke softly. This would be the best way out of this. He’d do what he promised—put a woman in the path of Xavier that would be the relationship he longed for. But since the man had arrogance enough to carry ten men, he’d make him forget this conversation. If Xavier was so observant and so aware of things, let him prove it.

Sometimes, like now, his temper got the better of him. Dhameer stopped—was this the right thing to do? But then he remembered all that Xavier said and did in the short time since he’d arrived, and how badly it irritated him.

There was nothing wrong with teaching the man a lesson.

He waved a hand, and Xavier fell back onto the couch.

“So be it. You are truly on your own, young man. In spite of you, I wish you luck.”

The honest sentiment didn’t stop him from making sure more glitter than normal fell to the ground as he left.

Xavier

I woke up rubbing my eyes. What the hell? I didn’t normally nap in the middle of the day, and I felt groggy, almost like I’d been drinking recently.

What had I been dreaming? Something that I wished I could remember. Something I needed to remember.

Whatever. I got up, still rubbing my eyes. I looked around my loft. “What the hell?” It looked like someone had started a party in here. Glitter everywhere.

The housekeeper was fired.

Olivia

I gazed out the window of the car, not really seeing anything. Momma had been as good as her word. Within mere hours, she’d gotten me booked on a plane, and in a hotel, and every service Elizabeth Arden had to offer. I also had firm instructions not to come home until I’d met her personal shopper, Pilar. All these years, and I had no idea Momma had her shopper.

“What am I going to do in New York, Momma?” I spoke quietly.

She didn’t even look at me from the driver’s seat. Probably a good thing, if I thought about it. “You are going to be pampered as that ass soon-to-be-ex of yours should have been doing all along. When you’re not engaged in personal improvement, you’re going to go to museums, and galleries, and sit in Central Park and be a tourist. You’re also going to flirt as if your life depended on it.”

I stared. “What are you talking about? I don’t want to talk to anyone, much less flirt with men!”

“Men are half the human race, sugar. God willing, you’ll find one who deserves you, and make a better choice next time.”

“Momma…”

“Sweetheart, you chose a bad horse. Made a bad bet. The nice thing about life is that there’s more than just one race. So look around, see what the other stables have to offer. No one’s sayin’ you have to choose the next horse right this minute, but it will be good for you to see what else is out there. Look at it as practice.”

“I’m still married, Momma.” I couldn’t handle her easy acceptance that my marriage had ended.

“Not for long, and by the time you get back, Lloyd and I will have things close to settled. Royce won’t know what’s hit him.”

We’d left Lloyd at my place, drafting my response to Royce’s divorce filing.

“I’ll also get my PI on him. See exactly why it is he’s trying to take all your hard work.”

I knew this to be a sore spot with Momma. She and I had started the business before Royce and I got married. He’d been invited to be a partner but declined. I found out later he didn’t think it would fly, nor was he sure we’d last. Well, he got that one right.

She’d never forgiven him for doubting us. The fact that we had become very successful, to the tune of me making more than he did in IT, didn’t help. At least regarding my marriage.

Maybe Momma was right. I’d backed the wrong horse.

It felt like shit to put it in those terms. To simplify my marriage down to the idea of “backing the wrong horse.”

“All right, sugar. Here you go. I booked you first class on both legs. I am sorry, though. You’ll have to transfer in Washington. I do hate Dulles! They always have your flights on opposite ends of the airport!”

“Momma, it’ll be fine. Thank you. I love you.”

She kissed my cheek, and then kissed me again. “I love you too, sugar. It’s gonna be fine. I promise.”

I nodded and got out of the car before tears showed up.

The flight from Nashville was uneventful. First class was nice. I didn’t usually fly it because, in spite of my business success, I wanted to keep costs low. Additionally, Royce…I thought about it. He got jealous if I used any perks that came with being good at my job. I represented talent, and at times, that meant that I got tickets to shows, or some fun thing because of my clients. We were always “busy.” What that meant, in reality,, was that I worked to assuage Royce’s ego.

Is this what Momma had seen? Is this why not only was she not surprised but she encouraged me to move on? Because he’d been the wrong horse for a long time, and shit on me with alarming regularity?

Shame washed over me. He had been actively shitting on me. I’d been so accustomed to it I didn’t even notice. That was all me. Much as I’d like to blame Royce. What a lowering realization.

Lost in my thoughts, I made my way from my plane to the one headed for New York. Momma was right. It was on the other side of the terminal. Or so it seemed.

I settled into my seat, pulling out my earbuds. I didn’t want to think about how I’d had a hand in the mess I found myself in. Watching videos or reading would allow me to pretend all the thoughts I’d been realizing were back in a box behind a closed door somewhere.

The flight attendant moved down the row. He leaned in toward me across the empty seat. “Can I bring you anything? I’ll be by again after we take off as well.”

I shook my head, and he moved on. I hoped the seat next to me would remain empty. On the flight from Nashville, I’d sat next to a man determined to converse. Only by turning to the window and blatantly ignoring him did I make it clear I wasn’t interested. I’d thought I’d heard a muttered, “Bitch” but I ignored that, too. Who cared what some jerk I’d never see again thought?

I would never again be at the whim of a man, not even to be polite.

Unfortunately, as the attendant was going through the small cabin and closing the overhead compartments, I heard heavy footsteps. A very tall man threw himself into the chair next to me. He had a hoodie and sunglasses. He also had, I noted, really nice, high cheekbones. I’m a sucker for high cheekbones.

The hoodie and glasses suggested he wanted peace and privacy as much as I did. I turned my shoulders towards the window and my attention back to my tablet. The airline offered free Wi-Fi, and I clicked on YouTube and made sure my earbuds were secure in my ears. Hopefully, all this body language would save me from being called a bitch again.

A video popped up by my favorite artist, XTC. I know, I know, what’s a nice southern girl doing liking a foul-mouthed bad boy, and a rapper to boot? We’re all supposed to be fangirls of the Grand Ol’ Opry, and nothing else.

Or so Momma says. This is one of the things I ignore from her. I loved the guy. I loved that he yelled out his anger, or frustration, or whatever it was that he felt at the moment. I realized that I envied it. That freedom. Whatever it was, I loved XTC’s work.

That thought slid dangerously close to in-depth thinking, and I wanted none of that. My seatmate stopped the attendant as he walked past our seats.

“Can I get a whiskey? Best one, whatever you have, please.”

I could hear him even over the music of the video. Whiskey sounded good.

“Make that two, please!” I said before I’d even had a chance to think about it.

Hoodie turned to me. “Good choice.”

I saw a wide grin with white teeth. Full, red lips.

“I’ll need to wait until we reach altitude,” the attendant said apologetically.

Hoodie waved. “No worries.” He pulled large headphones from around his neck and situated them on his head, all under his hoodie. His glasses didn’t move either.

Impressive. Then I realized that I was staring at him. How embarrassing! Hopefully, my mouth wasn’t open. I ducked my head down quickly. Thank God for electronics. I stared at the tablet, feeling my face flush with warmth. The next video in the feed opened. Another XTC song.

Trying Again. That song had so little in common with the rest of his stuff, but it was one of my favorites. The lyrics seemed particularly meaningful now. I’d have to learn to try again, once I made it through whatever happened in the next six months.

Oh, God. The thought of what would happen next made me lean back in my seat. I had no illusions of Royce and me being able to sort things out in a civil fashion. He would hate Lloyd as my attorney, and hate Momma’s involvement. It would make him meaner and nastier to me. Add that in with his request to be supported—I couldn’t even get into my indignation over his nerve—and this would be ugly.

Which only made me want to slap his face until his head spun. This whole damn thing promised to be a downward spiral into the messiest thing possible. Why would he want such a thing? How could he, if he loved me?

Because he doesn’t, a hateful whisper came back. He hasn’t for a long time.

It felt like something hit me across the solar plexus. How long had that lack of love been there? How long had I ignored it?

I could feel tears pooling at the corners of my eyes. It sucked to be handed divorce papers. It sucked even worse to realize that you couldn’t just blame it on your asshole soon-to-be-ex and be done with it.

For the first time, I hoped Momma and Lloyd found something really good on Royce. Something that would move this process along, and let me blame him like I wanted to.

I felt a tap on my arm. I pulled out an earbud and looked over to see that Hoodie had his headphones around his neck again and held two drinks in his hands. He rattled them invitingly when I looked at him.

“Here you go.” He handed one towards me.

“Thanks,” I took the glass and drank a large swallow.

His smile widened. “Didn’t think anyone needed the drink more than I did right now, but guess I was wrong. You want me to get you another?”

Yes, I wanted to say, but I didn’t drink hard liquor often, and I still needed to be able to navigate when I got off the plane. “No, I think this will do. But thanks,” I added.

I wish he’d take off the glasses. I’d love to see if the eyes matched the rest of the face.

“Let me know if you change your mind. I’ll probably have another.” He smiled, and the lips/teeth combo flashed at me again.

Then he leaned back in his chair.

Okay. I guess the conversation is over. Probably better that way. I put my earbud back in and hit replay on the video.

Xavier

The woman next to me is hot. She is also on the edge of crying. I’d been around enough crying women to know when it was coming. At least this time the tears weren’t directed at me. Which made a nice change.

Women like her didn’t drink in the middle of the day on airplanes. I might have a slew of car-wreck relationships behind me, but I knew that fact as well as I knew myself. She was on the edge of something.

Normally, I didn’t notice this kind of thing, but ever since the wedding, I’d been seeing people—especially women—differently. Like, with more interest in their lives. I didn’t know what to make of it.

Back to the hottie next to me. I let my eyes slide over to her. She stared at her tablet, where she watched a video of…oh, holy fuck.

Me.

A fan. She’s a fan of XTC.

I’m not sure where that falls on the scale of good versus bad. All my relationships usually begin with meeting a fan. But, in the spirit of being honest, the women that make up my exes probably are not the most stable, or put together of women. Neither am I, if I’m still being honest.

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.”

“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 mind 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.

“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.