twenty-five
Breakfast was quick. Jack made Holly and me oatmeal while I made coffee and she sliced up bananas for our bowls. We talked hurriedly about last-minute plans. I’d be leaving my car at Holly’s. We figured it would be better to have it somewhere that someone actually lived. The two of them would check on my house every other week or so. There were still a few pieces being delivered, but between Jack and Holly, they had it covered.
I offered Jack the use of my car while I was gone but he declined, insisting he quite enjoyed his broken little car and saying, “Now that the car snob will be away, I’ll be pleased to drive it again.”
Jack and I beat a hasty path upstairs after breakfast, determined to sneak in as much time alone as we could before we needed to leave for LAX. My flight was at one, and we figured on leaving for the airport around ten.
It was already eight thirty.
We headed straight for the shower, dropping our clothes so fast, it was like someone was holding a gun to our heads, and I laughed. “It’s like Dead Man Showering,” I quipped as I wriggled out of my bra.
“It does have a certain finality to it, doesn’t it?” Jack chuckled as I struggled with the last clasp. “Can I please help you with that?”
He stood behind me as I held my hair up, and when it was finally off, his hands slipped down to the band of my panties and began sliding them over my hips.
“I don’t recall asking you to help with those, Sweet Nuts,” I said, scolding him, my breath catching in my throat.
“I don’t recall asking for your opinion on this matter, Nuts Girl,” he growled as the panties went down. “Let’s go get wet.”
“Too late,” I said, the lower half of my body beginning to warm as his hands began to explore.
“Is that a fact?” he asked, walking me backward into the bathroom.
“Oh, like you’re not totally turned on?” Mr. Hamilton Junior was poking insistently at his boxers. My hands went up to his shoulders and I ran them down the length of his arms, while his snaked around my waist, pulling me to him.
“Why do you still have these on?” I asked, snapping the band on his boxers.
“You tell me, Crazy,” he said, reaching past me to turn on the shower.
I removed the offending boxers in the time it would take to say Hamiltonian Wake-up Call.
We scrambled in and lathered quickly. He washed my hair, covering me in bubbles. Then, of course, he held my boobies for balance while I washed his hair. He truly never tired of playing with them. I honestly think if he’d had his own pair, I might never have heard from him again. Luckily, I never tired of his playing with them, either. He had me moaning within seconds, and then groaning a minute later. He was taking my washing up very seriously this morning, and there wasn’t a place on my body he didn’t attend to. He brought me to three quick, intense orgasms, and before I knew it we were out of the shower and on the floor of the bathroom, with me on top, riding him in a frenzy, getting water all over the floor.
We fucked frantically, laughing when he knocked over the tower of toiletries with his foot, making baby powder and tampons rain down on us. We laughed when the squeak of his ass against the marble became almost louder than my groaning. And we really laughed when we came together, tension and giggles giving way to satisfaction.
I rolled off him, landing squarely on my cold flatiron. I yelped, and when he tried to help me, he hit his head squarely on the toilet.
I looked around at the state of the bathroom—the open shower door, the Always with wings and mascara strewn about the floor, the flatiron under my bum, and Jack rubbing his head.
I laughed until tears streamed down my face, my naked body jiggling in places that I knew couldn’t look good. And I didn’t care.
“I . . . love you . . . so . . . much . . . ,” I choked out.
“I love you too, Gracie . . . Always,” he said, deadpan, holding up a maxi pad.
I laughed so hard, my stomach hurt.
Jack crawled over to me, knocking bottles left and right with his knees, and kissed me square on the lips. “You’re crazy, but you’re my Crazy. I love it.”
Nine fifty-seven A.M.
I stood with Holly in the driveway while Jack put my suitcases in my car. I fought down the lump in my throat. I could tell she had one, as well.
“So, you have everything, right?” she asked. “Neil is going to call you tonight to check in. You have a meeting with him on Thursday after you get settled into the hotel, right?”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m meeting him Thursday.”
“And you have your cell charger, right? You call my ass the minute you land. Do you have money for a cab into the city? It will be about forty-five dollars—don’t let them overcharge you.”
“I got it, Mom. I’ve been there before, you know. Probably more often than you.” I laughed at her mother-henning.
“I know, I know, asshead. I guess that’s it.” She pressed her lips tightly together.
“Okay, dillweed. I’ll call you when I land. Bye,” I said, hugging her quickly.
She just nodded her head, hugging me back just as hard. Then she pulled away and disappeared into the house. Holly always hated good-byes.
I turned to Jack, a little teary, and he reached for my hand. “You ready to go?” he asked quietly.
“Yep—let’s do this,” I answered, wiping away the tears that had escaped and climbing into the passenger side.
It was one of the few mornings ever in the history of L.A. with little traffic, and all too soon we were pulling into LAX. Jack insisted on parking and walking me in, though I wanted him to just let me out at the curbside check-in. My stomach was in knots and I knew how hard it was going to be to say good-bye to him.
We parked underground, and I swear you’ve never seen anyone take so long to remove luggage from the trunk as he did. We held hands, walking at a turtle’s pace toward the ticket counter, and I punched in my frequent-flier number, bringing up my itinerary. I was pleased to see I’d gotten an upgrade and would be in seat 3D, a window seat.
“Sheridan?” the counter agent called, and we moved forward. Jack placed my bags on the scale and we waited for her to wrap the tags around the handle.
“You’re checking two bags through to LaGuardia, right?” she asked.
“Yes,” I answered. My voice was rough, and my throat felt like sandpaper. I could see Jack was starting to feel it, too.
She gave me my ticket and pointed me toward the security checkpoint for my terminal.
Jack slung my carry-on bag over his shoulder, and we walked away slowly, holding hands. Right before we got to security, he pulled me over to the wall, almost hidden behind a vending machine. He set my bag down, and I kept my eyes on the floor. I literally couldn’t bear to look at him.
“Grace? Come on, look at me,” he said, chiding me softly, his fingers slipping under my chin and lifting my face up.
The tears that had been building finally broke, and I clutched him to me fiercely. “Damn it, George, I’m going to miss you so much!” I cried, squeezing him as tightly as I dared.
“I know, Gracie, me too,” he said, not crying, but sounding like he could.
I breathed in his sweet scent and began to kiss every part of his warm skin that was exposed. His neck, his ears, his temples, his forehead, the little part of his chest that was exposed by his open collar, his cheeks, his nose, his eyelids, and finally his mouth, which was eager for my own. His hands swept across my back and my hips, his beautiful fingers spanning my waist almost completely.
I held on as tightly as I could, trying to express with sheer force how much I was going to miss him and how much it broke my heart to leave him.
“Grace? I just want you to know how glad I am that I met you. I can’t imagine my life without your crazy, sexy, beautiful ass in it now,” he whispered in my ear, bringing a fresh wave of tears and a smile from me.
“God, you’re amazing. I’m so lucky,” I whispered back, clutching him still tighter.
He was kissing my neck with a sense of urgency, burying his face in my hair and breathing deeply. When his lips found mine again we kissed until we were both breathless, his cheeks wet from my tears, and then he hugged me tightly again.
“I should go,” I whispered, my hands buried in his hair.
“Yes, you should,” he whispered back, beginning to let go.
I backed away, swinging my bag onto my shoulder and taking my boarding pass from his hip pocket.
“Call me when you land?” he asked, his eyes sad.
“Promise,” I answered, scratching his head one last time. He closed his eyes like a puppy, leaning into it, and I was close enough that I could feel the warmth of him.
“I love you, sweet girl.” He smiled, opening his eyes and leaning down for one more kiss.
“I love you too, Jack.” I smiled back.
Then I walked away. I showed the TSA officer my ID and boarding pass, then got in line. I couldn’t look behind me.
“Hey, Crazy!” I heard, and I turned around smiling, along with the other thirty people in line.
“Yes, Sweet Nuts?” I yelled back, to the general amusement of all around me.
“Knock their fucking socks off!” he yelled.
I laughed and lifted my hand in a good-bye. With one last sexy half grin he walked away, disappearing into the crowd. I was still smiling when I turned back to the line.
The woman in front of me smiled. “Boyfriend?”
“Yes. That was my boyfriend,” I answered, enjoying the word on my tongue.
“He’s cute. And that accent! Jeez, it’s hot—if you don’t mind my saying.” She laughed.
“I don’t mind—it’s totally hot.” I smiled again, wiped the tears away, and headed for my gate.
Once I was on the plane, my tears came back. I sat quietly sniffling, watching everyone else file onto the plane. The flight attendant had already offered me a cocktail, but I wasn’t ready for that yet.
One of the reasons I felt so sad was that I didn’t know when I would see him again. I could be in New York indefinitely—three months, a year. It was all dependent upon how well the show did and the kind of backing it received.
I knew Jack would be out to visit, and I knew that at some point I’d be able to get back to L.A., but not knowing when made it so difficult for me. Not to mention that I hadn’t slept alone in weeks, and I knew that tonight, when the lights went out and I didn’t have the Brit under the covers with me, I’d miss him something fierce.
I thought of his sweet face, looking lost as I walked away from him today. I’d seen the same sadness in his eyes that was in mine and knew he would miss me. I thought of his smile and how happy I made him when I did something as simple as scratching his head, and my insides actually ached.
What would he do if he were here now and I was crying? I smiled immediately, thinking of how quickly he’d have me pressed tightly to him, making me laugh through my tears or simply letting me cry it out. And I’d do the same for him. All I wanted to do was take care of him and have him take care of me. We needed each other equally. I knew that now.
God, I should have gone shopping for him before I left! He’d eat nothing but freaking fast food for the next three months if no one got involved.
But that was enough sad-sackery. I needed a distraction.
I pulled out a magazine and laughed ruefully when I saw that he was featured in an article about faces to watch.
Yeah—no kidding.
Somewhere over Utah . . .
I put the magazine down after rereading the pages with my Brit several hundred times.
The flight attendant nodded toward the article as she handed me a Bloody Mary. “Did you read the article about Jack Hamilton? I could get arrested for the thoughts I have about that kid.” She grinned.
I blushed and grinned back. “He’s a tall drink of water, that’s for sure.”
“God, yes. I can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to his new film.” She leaned against the aisle seat, making the guy next to me roll his eyes. He’d attempted to engage me in conversation, which I had quickly thwarted. Now I was ready to talk, but about a heartthrob? I’m sure he thought I was nuts.
Mmm, someone I loved called me Nuts Girl.
“Yeah, it looks really good. I love me some Super-Sexy Scientist Guy,” I replied.
“You must be talking about Jack Hamilton,” a voice said behind me, and the woman in 4D popped her head up to participate.
“Ha! Everyone I know adores that kid,” the flight attendant squealed.
“Oh, my goodness,” 4D said. “Did you see his last movie? I almost died when he was in that towel . . . gah!”
“Yeah, he’s pretty to look at.” The flight attendant sighed, and all three of us began to giggle like schoolgirls.
And I smiled to myself, thinking of the man who’d hit his head on my toilet bowl only hours before.
When the plane finally landed, I was exhausted. It had been an emotional day, I’d gotten no sleep the night before, and plane rides were always tiring, especially when you imbibed the free Bloody Marys.
I grabbed my bags off the carousel and made my way toward the line of cabs. When it was my turn, I gave the driver the address of the W hotel, then checked my messages. I smiled as I listened to Holly instructing me to call her as soon as I reached my hotel. I couldn’t help but call Jack and was a little saddened that I got his voice mail.
“Hey, love, I’m in a cab heading into the city now. Wanted to call and let you know I made it here safe and sound. And I even met a few fans of yours on the plane! I told them I fucked you repeatedly and often, and they seemed oddly shocked by that. Kidding. Well, call me when you get this, I don’t care how late. I want to talk to you before I go to sleep. I love you and miss you already, George. Okay, bye.”
I sank back in the seat and looked out the window as Queens quickly went by. We crossed the bridge, and as I saw the lights of the city, I began to smile uncontrollably. It was nearly ten and the sky was fully dark. Everything was lit up, and the way the city looked as we crossed the river was magical. Absolutely magical.
We drove across town through the concrete canyons, the driver slamming on the brakes, honking back at other cabs and at the pedestrians. Hundreds of people were out, crossing the streets, sitting at cafés, pouring in and out of doorways. There was a vibrant pulse to this city, and after the laid-back charm of Southern California, my brain was hungry for the energy of Manhattan. Every time I was there, my heart beat a little faster.
As we pulled in front of the W the bellman came out to help with my bags, and I was soon whisked inside. While I was checking in, I felt a tap on my shoulder and I turned.
It was Michael.
“Hey! What are you doing here?” I exclaimed, hugging him.
“Holly told me when you were getting in, so I thought I’d buy you your first drink in New York. You’re not too tired, are you? Maybe I should’ve given you time to settle in.” He was dressed casually, like me, in loose khakis, gray T-shirt, Converse. His hair was quite curly in the humidity and framed his dark brown eyes.
“No, no. I would love that! I’m tired, but it’s not even eight to me. Let me drop off my bags and then we can grab a drink. Do you mind if we have it here?” I said, gesturing to the gorgeous lobby bar.
“That sounds like a plan. Lemme help you,” he said, grabbing my bags and leading me toward the elevator.
My room was on seventeen, high enough to have a great view. And since it was the W, my room was tricked out. We were setting everything down when my phone rang. I flopped across the bed to grab it, and when I saw it was Jack, I smiled hugely.
“Hey, Johnny Bite-Down! How are you?” I asked.
“Hey yourself. How was your flight?”
“It was good. Long . . . but good.” I sighed.
“Sounds like me . . . long and good.” He chuckled.
“Ha ha, very funny. I miss you already, you know,” I said, dropping my voice a little.
“I know. I miss you, too. I’m sorry I missed your call earlier. Is it too early for phone sex?” He laughed.
Michael stuck his head out from the closet, where he had been putting my bags away. “Hey, Grace, do you want this one in the bathroom?” he asked.
“Yeah, that’s fine, thanks,” I called out. “So, phone sex, can it wait until later tonight? I want to be able to give you my full attention.”
“Who was that?” Jack asked, his voice curious.
“Oh, Michael was here at the hotel when I got here, and we’re going to grab a drink after I get settled in,” I answered.
“Are you in your room?” he inquired, his voice still curious but with a slight edge to it.
“Yep, he helped me get my bags up here, and then we’re heading back down to the bar,” I answered, rolling my eyes.
“Uh-huh,” he muttered.
How cute; he was a little jealous.
“Oh, Sweet Nuts, I really wish I could see your face right now—along with other parts.” I laughed, and he loosened up.
“Well, I’ll tell you what. You go have your drink and then call me later. I’m heading out soon, too. I’m actually doing an open mike tonight.”
“You are? Wow, I really wish I was there for that.” I’d have killed to see him sing on a stage, just him and his guitar.
“I wish you were too, love. I’ll speak to you soon then, yes?” he said softly.
“Yes. I love you, George,” I cooed.
“I love you, too, Gracie.”
And with that, we hung up. I sat on the bed for a moment, then Michael came back in.
“I thought his name was Jack,” he said.
“What?” I asked, coming out of my haze.
“You said George . . . I thought his name was Jack,” he said, looking puzzled.
“It is Jack. The George is a long story. Let’s go get that drink.”
Taking a deep breath, I pushed myself off the bed and headed out of the room with Michael. As the door swung shut behind us, I saw the lights of New York twinkling beyond the window.
I was finally here—and it was time for me to shine.
A few weeks later
I pulled my orange scarf more snugly around my neck and knotted it again so it tucked right under my chin. The air was cool this morning and the leaves fell around me, blown about by a blustery breeze. Sheltered from the wind, I gazed at the scene before me:
Brownstones. Concrete.
Yellow cabs. A deli advertising both pastrami and falafel.
As I sipped my coffee, I marveled at my life and where it had taken me.
I loved New York.
The last few weeks had been amazing—and difficult. It was October now, and fall had officially come to Manhattan. The air was crisp, there were pumpkins on stoops, and I was having the time of my life. I was insanely happy.
Except, I was really missing my Brit . . .