GYPSY GIRL
When the phone rang three nights later, I braced for his reaction.
“Are you trying to kill me?”
“I see you got my package?”
“I repeat. Are you fucking trying to kill me?”
Smiling from ear to ear, I knew that UPS had delivered it, since I’d been tracking it all day like a madwoman.
“Are you angry?”
“Are you kidding?” He moaned. “I am lying in my bed right now wearing nothing but you on top of me.”
“How does it feel?”
“It’s silky…and I have gold tassels wrapped around my cock.”
“That’s a great visual.”
“You smell like heaven. Pure heaven, Rana. I just want to drown in you.”
His words gave me chills.
“You like it?”
About thirty seconds passed before he responded.
He just breathed into the phone before he said, “You know, there are fleeting moments when I still wonder whether I’m being catfished. Like maybe, those pictures weren’t really you, or maybe there’s some sinister reason why you won’t let me see you. But let me just say, if for some reason that were true, in this moment, I wouldn’t want to know the truth. I want to believe that you’re as amazing inside and out as I believe you are. And I want to stay here smelling you until there’s nothing left.”
His words made my entire body buzz with an urgent need to be touched by him.
I cleared my throat. “It was an impulsive decision.”
“Well, it gives me hope that one impulsive decision will lead to the next. I’ll take whatever you want to give me. What made you decide on this particular outfit?”
“It was the night that you told me you dated Kelsie. After we got off the phone, I took my clothes off in a jealous rage and put them in a box to you. You’re wearing my jealousy.”
“You are totally batshit crazy, woman. But I love how you worked with my idea.”
“I am very resourceful in the course of my psychotic outbursts, yes.”
“Next time send me everything—the panties, too.”
“That actually crossed my mind, but I didn’t want you to think I was depraved.”
“I like depraved. What I don’t like is how I’m feeling right now—deprived.”
An idea popped into my head. “Hang on. Let me get into your sweatshirt.”
I ran to the closet and placed it over my head.
“Okay, I’m wearing you now, too.”
“What else are you wearing?”
“Nothing. Just you.”
“Fuck.”
“Your smell is fading, though.”
“Well, I’m not sending you anything else from me. You want to smell me again? It’s gonna have to be me, not my shirt.” I could hear him taking a deep breath in. “I’m so fucking horny right now.”
It felt like I could come from just hearing him talk dirty. He had that kind of deep voice that just did it for me.
“You’re making me horny, too.” I dared myself to ask, “What would you do to me if I were there?”
“A lot of things. But for some reason, smelling your scent makes me really want to eat your pussy. I’m craving that right now so badly, like my mouth is watering for it.” He lowered his voice. “Would you let me?”
Barely able to speak, I stuttered, “Yeah…I mean…yeah…I would be okay with that.”
“I’m totally fucking obsessed with you, Rana.”
I wanted to tell him that I was beyond the point of obsessed with him. Instead, I tried to snap myself out of the sexual spell his words were putting me under.
“You’re obsessed with the idea of me—the mystique. The reality is a mess.”
“What reality isn’t? A relationship is about appreciating the good, the bad, and the ugly. No one is perfect.”
A relationship.
That’s what this is, isn’t it?
Knowing that my resolve was weakening, I whispered, “I’m scared.”
“I can’t do this forever. I haven’t been with anyone since before the night you sent me the photo of your ass. But I’m a man, and I have needs. Either you let me see you, let me be with you, or I’m going to have no choice but to take this sexual energy out on someone else. Is that what you really want? You want me to give someone else what’s meant for you?”
My heart was thumping out of my chest. “No.”
“Then set a date. Set a fucking date. I want to see you. You have to make the call. I’ll never show up at your door without your permission. I promised you that. You’re the one who’s keeping us apart, so you need to decide how it happens.”
My voice was trembling. “I need more time.”
“Can you honestly say that more time will lead you to me? If so, then, I will wait. If not, just put me out of my fucking misery now. Tell me it’s never going to happen, so I can move on.”
Fear had taken away my ability to speak. This was turning into way more than I’d bargained for. I didn’t have the answer. My silence caused him to draw his own conclusion.
“I need to go, Rana. Call me when you have something to say to me. The ball is in your court.”
Then, he hung up.
Landon wasn’t playing around.
A few days passed, and he hadn’t called or texted. I had mixed feelings about that. A part of me was miserable because I missed him so much. The self-destructive side, on the other hand, rejoiced that there was no longer pressure to have to open up fully to him, to deal with all of the painful feelings that would inevitably come from meeting him face to face.
But despite that negative voice, my heart was in serious pain and begging me to let it out of its misery—to contact him.
At work one night, visions of Landon were particularly intrusive during my nightly routine. As I picked up the dollar bills that had been strewn at me, I wondered how much longer I could live like this.
The music stopped, and I ran off to grab some water. During my break, I finally broke down and sent Landon a text.
Rana: You weren’t kidding when you said the ball was in my court. I miss talking to you, and I’m really sorry if I upset you.
The three little dots signaling his impending response appeared. My pulse raced as I watched the dots dancing around.
Landon: This is Landon’s friend, Ace. I have his phone. He was in an accident down at the skateboarding park. He fell unconscious after hitting his head. I’m at the waiting room at Los Angeles Memorial. The doctors are running some tests on him right now.
What?
My heart was beating out of control.
This couldn’t be happening.
The room was swaying, and it felt like some kind of out of body experience. I was panicking as what felt like a million thoughts ran through my mind.
What if he was severely injured?
What if he lost his memory?
What if I never had a chance to be with him?
The list went on and on.
What if I never had a chance to tell him how I feel about him?
What if he…died?
DIED.
What if he died?
I finally garnered the strength to type out one more message.
Rana: Is he going to be okay?
Landon: I just don’t know anything right now. I’m sorry.
No.
No.
No.
Tears blinded me as I ran back out to the dining room, heading toward the restaurant manager. The band thought I was about to dance and started playing again.
“Xenophon, I have a family emergency. I’m sorry. I have to go.”
Not bothering to wait for his response, I grabbed my coat and ran out of the restaurant.
My frantic breaths were visible in the cold night air. After running for about a mile, I finally tracked down a taxi.
“I need you to take me to the airport.”
Eyeing my uniform from the rearview mirror, he said, “A little late for Halloween, eh?”
I simply faked a smile before closing my eyes and praying that I got to Landon in time, that he was going to be okay.
Worrying about his impression of me had taken a major backseat to the more serious concerns now at the forefront of my mind. There was no time to fixate on myself anymore. This turn of events had put everything into perspective.
He needed to be okay.
It was all that mattered.
I gave the driver all of the dollar bills in my possession. He must’ve thought I was a stripper. My cash barely covered the fare.
With nothing but my phone and my wallet, I ran through the sliding doors to the Spirit Airlines ticket counter.
“When is the next flight you have to Los Angeles?”
“We’re all booked for the 8PM, but there’s one on Delta leaving in forty minutes. You’ll have to head to Terminal A, though. That’s on the other side in that direction.”
Running aimlessly in search of Terminal A, I weaved in and out of the crowds until I finally arrived at the Delta counter.
Unfortunately, there was a line. The old man behind me started ogling me and smiling. Creeper. I was too freaked out about getting to California in a hurry to care.
Finally, my turn came.
“I need a ticket for your next flight to Los Angeles.”
After presenting her with my identification and credit card, she punched some buttons before swiping my card then said, “I’m sorry, ma’am, but your card was declined. Do you have another one?”
“I only have the one credit card. Can you try it again?”
“I tried it twice. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to take it up with the credit card company.”
It occurred to me that I’d hit my limit a while back when I’d purchased some new winter clothes. Obviously, I wasn’t expecting to have to buy a plane ticket. Devastated, I pleaded with the airline employee.
“Please. Is there anything you can do? Does the airline have a payment plan or something? I’m desperate. I’m not travelling for leisure.” I started rambling as tears poured down my face, “There’s this guy. I’m pretty sure he’s the love of my life. He just doesn’t know it yet. Anyway, he was in an accident. And I don’t even know how serious it is. I left work and raced straight here, and I’m so scared that if I don’t get on this flight, I may never see him again.” I was choking on my tears.
Just then, fingertips tapped my shoulder.
Whipping my head around, I snapped, “Please. I’m almost done.”
The old man then pushed in front of me.
I panicked. “What are you doing?”
He spoke to the woman at the counter. “I’d like to pay for her flight, please.”
What?
“Are you sure?” she asked. “It’s seven-hundred dollars plus tax, one way.”
“Yes, I’m sure.” His hand trembled a bit as he took his credit card out of his worn, brown leather wallet and handed it to her.
I stood in silence, shocked at the generosity that I was witnessing from a man I’d deemed a creeper just minutes ago. That old perv had become my guardian angel on Earth.
He looked at me. “If the love of my life was in danger, you’d better believe I’d need to be on that flight. Actually, the love of my life is dead, but she was an old romantic, and if she were here, she’d be telling me to pay for that gypsy girl’s flight.”
“Thank you, Mister…what is your name?”
“Ralph Issacson.”
“Mr. Issacson, I will forever be grateful for this. Please write down your information so I can pay you back.”
He held out his hand. “That’s really not necessary. It gives me great pleasure to do this for you. And I don’t need the money.”
There was no time to argue. I needed to thank this man before rushing onto the flight. The only thing I could think of that I knew he might want happened to be free.
Taking his face in my hands, I planted a firm kiss on his lips. He looked frazzled but extremely satisfied with my impulsive gesture. A permanent smile seemed to be glued onto his face. I definitely left him dazed and confused.
Running to the gate with only minutes to spare, I said five Our Fathers and five Hail Marys.
With no bags, I was able to whiz through security without any issues, except one small snafu when the metal embellishments on my belly dancer garb caused the detectors to go off. They cleared me, and I arrived at the boarding area just in the knick of time.
Did I mention I’d never been on a plane before?