“I have to agree.” Boston says as he reaches for the door handle to the bus. “It was kick ass.”
Rhyit nods his head, not looking at either of us as he stares at the sun coming up.
“Well goodnight, or I guess good morning.” Boston announces with a laugh as he takes the stairs, the bus sways from side to side as he walks to the bunks in the rear.
“You good?” I ask once we’re alone, he’s been quiet since the song, and that was hours ago.
“Yeah,” he sighs, moving towards the bus. “Your lyrics were damn good,” he compliments me.
“Thank you,” I say, tucking a stray piece of hair behind my ear.
“But, there’s something I can’t figure out.” He stops at the base of the steps to look at me. “How did you know that he wanted to settle down? That he was hoping to find someone?”
I try to keep my face neutral, but inside I’m panicking, red alerts are going off in my brain and if he could read my thoughts he would see a giant LIE stamp imprinted against my skull.
“Isn’t that what everyone wants?” I reply, going with the safest route possible.
“Yeah,” he says, pursing his lips in confusion, “I guess that’s true.” He nods, and I lower my guard a little bit. “You never told me what the last thing he said to you was.” Rhyit states, and my guard comes all the way back up and around me like the Berlin Wall.
“I’d have to think about it,” I say noncommittally. “I’m sure it was something along the lines of be good.” I smile, but the lie tastes worse than before. What was ash on my tongue has become hot tar, and I feel the need to swallow it down before I spit out the truth.
“Think about it,” he says. “It might be good for the song. We could try and add it in there.” He starts up the stairs to the bus, and I mentally kick myself. I should have told him the truth weeks ago, but now the lie has become its own organism, breathing and feeding on everything in sight. I scrub a hand down my face and let out an exasperated sigh.
***
I love Texas, always have and probably always will. The people here have southern charm and manners, they treat you with respect, and once I even had a nice older woman at the grocery store ask me if I’d eaten that day. You don’t get that kind of charm anywhere else but the south.
I stand in front of the mirror in my hotel room, the dark blue dress I’m wearing hits mid thigh and makes my eyes look even more blue. I stare at my reflection, my blonde hair is blown out and sits perfectly teased against my scalp, my signature red lipstick coats my lips but not my teeth, and my eyes are rimmed with thick black eyeliner. I look like myself, but today, I don’t feel like myself. Andrew should be here any minute to pick me up for our date, and the need to blurt out the truth hangs around my neck like a noose. I know he knows that I’m hiding something, I know he was awake when I confided in Boston a few nights ago about it, and I know he’s going to figure it out soon. I should just tell him, get it over with, and move on, but the truth now is almost more difficult than keeping up the lie. He’s not going to take it well, he’s not going to look at me the same, and I want him to look at me the way he does now. My mind travels back to the last date we had, the strange way he acted, the nervousness he exuded with every conversation… and then the blow up. The song, the fight, and the aftermath all play in my head on repeat. Knocking on the door of the hotel room stops my internal panic, and I take one last look at myself in the mirror and blow out a breath. Let’s hope this date goes better than the last one.
When the door opens, a large bouquet of roses is the first thing I see. They’re beautiful and fully bloomed. I stare at the petals and reach my hand out slowly to touch them. The silkiness of the petal between my fingertips reminds me of the single red rose I placed on Alex’s casket at the funeral. The rose was falling apart by the time I set it down because of the amount of times I ran my anxious fingers across the petals.
“You look beautiful.” Andrew says as he hands the bouquet to me. He’s dressed in a suit, yes a suit, with a black jacket, white button down shirt underneath, no tie, and a watch on his wrist. Andrew is dreamy in his leather pants and jacket with cuff bracelets and a wallet chain, but Andrew in a suit is something to behold. The white shirt underneath has the top two buttons undone, showing off the top of his pistol tattoo. His long hair is tied back, and he smells delicious.
“You look really handsome yourself.” I reply, a shy smile playing on my lips. He smiles back, and we stare at each other for a moment.
“You ready to go?” he asks, clearing his throat.
“Yeah, let me grab my purse.” I spin around and grab the handbag from the entry table, placing the roses on the same table for later. Setting the strap on my shoulder, I follow him as he backs away from the door. We take the elevator down to the lobby in silence, neither of us knowing how to handle this situation.
“Do you remember our last date?” I ask, looking over at him as the steel car stops at the lobby.
“Yeah,” he smiles, “I fucked that one up royally.” He laughs lightly. “I had a ring, ya know? I was going to ask you when we got back to the house. I had the whole thing planned out.” Hold. The. Phone. What?
“Are you serious?” I hiss. “How did I not know that?” I’m flabbergasted, I had no idea. He was nervous all night, but I thought he had too much in his system to sit still, much like every other night around that time period.
“Well,” he says, pushing the hotel lobby door open for me, “the night kind of blew up as soon as we got in the car. I guess it worked out the way it was supposed to.” He nods to the valet, and the suited man throws him a set of keys to a car that is worth more than my parents’ house. A black ‘69 Chevelle sits against the curb, my eyes dance across the classic muscle car before they land on Andrew, he’s holding the passenger door open for me.
“You coming?” He asks, excitement lighting up his face.
“Not yet I’m not.” I mumble to myself as I step towards the car.
“Watch your head.” He says as I lean into the seat, the leather feels like a cloud under my thighs, and I take a second to admire the beauty of the vehicle before Andrew opens the driver’s door.
“Grab that lever there, would you?” he asks as he sits down. I look up to see a lever behind the sunshade, I pull the silver wand and the top breaks free. He uses his arm to push the top of the car into the compartment and behind the back seat.
“Okay, who’s car is this?” I look around.
“It’s a friend’s, but don’t worry he knows I have it.” Andrew smiles as he puts the stick in first gear, he punches the gas and lets the clutch out, and the tires squeal loudly as we haul ass out of the parking lot.