Pretty Hate (New Adult Novel) (21 page)

“Nah, I’ve flown you first class more than once, baby,” he said. “I think you’ve forgotten.”

“I beg to differ, baby,” Rebel Love said. “I know it was only once because it was my reward from you for doing anal. A girl doesn’t forget that.”

“Oh! Wow,” I said and looked at Gemini, “anal?”

“Yes,” Rebel Love said and sighed.

I looked at Ivory-Lou and shook my head.

“What are you looking at?” he said. “I didn’t force her to do it. She enjoyed it. Rebel Love, tell the racist you enjoyed yourself!”

“Um, did you enjoy the anal, Rebel Love?” I said and snorted.

“Well, I will say that if I never do anal again, I would still sleep well at night,” Rebel Love said.

“Doesn’t sound like she found it that enjoyable, Casanova,” I said and laughed.

“Shut up,” Ivory-Lou said. “Next subject. So, a rock star, huh? What happened to the writer?”

“Nicolas?” I said and took a sip of beer as I stared at my ticket. “I broke up with him, I think.”

“What do you mean,
you think
?” he said.

“Well, I sent him a nasty email breaking up with him and I’ve not answered his calls or read his responses.”

“Really, Beth?” Rebel Love said. “That’s sounds awfully passive-aggressive.”

“No, it’s not,” I said.

“Yeah, it is,” Ivory-Lou said and nodded. “You say a bunch of nasty shit and then won’t allow the man to respond? That’s classic passive-aggressive, Beth. What did you say?”

“I don’t remember,” I said. “Besides, he’s the passive-aggressive one. I poured my heart out to him and he out-and-out ignored everything I said. For example, me:
I miss you, Nicolas
; him:
How’s the weather
? That, my friend, is passive-aggressive.”

“What did you say in your email?” Ivory-Lou said.

“Why do you care?” I said.

“Because, Beth,” he said and sighed, “it’s fucking Wednesday, I was at Knockers last night and I didn’t get home until six o’clock this morning. I need a nap and you bitches screaming got my adrenaline pumping and I’m wired. Listening to your bullshit will make me sleepy. What did you say?”

“I told him that I was tired of the superficial correspondence. I told him that I was in pain and it wasn’t fair that he liked chicks whose faces looked like cans of smashed assholes while he ignored me. I’m paraphrasing.”

“Did you really say that, Beth?” Rebel Love said and sipped her beer. “Smashed...”

“Cans of smashed assholes,” I said.

“Ain’t heard that one before,” Ivory-Lou said and shook his head. “That means ugly, right?”

“Well, I don’t know in what land
can of smashed assholes
would be used to describe a person as attractive, so yeah, it means...unfortunate-looking,” I said.

“Beth, I just cannot believe that we’re sitting here and you are going to be flying to Chicago, first class, as a personal guest of Declan White!” Rebel Love said as she jumped up and down.

“I know, I could just scream!” I said.

“Don’t,” Ivory-Lou said and put his hand over mine. “I don’t like it. Not at all.”

“What do you mean, you don’t like it?” I said and stared at him.

“Just what I said: I do not like it.”

“Why not, baby?” Rebel Love said.

“This guy,” Ivory-Lou said and tapped on the ticket, “is a rock star. A big-time rock star, not like your daddy and--”

“He’s not my father!” I said.

“Stop hollering!” Ivory-Lou said. “Anyway, this guy is used to having the pick of the litter. And he picks psycho pants over here, so--”

“I’m not pretty enough?” I said and stared at Rebel Love.

Rebel Love shook her head and stared at Ivory-Lou.

“Baby! My sister is beautiful. You take that back!”

“Jesus, help me, please,” he said and stared at the ceiling, “for they all done lost their motherfucking minds! No, I did not say that! Stop interrupting me! This guy, has a list ten miles, twenty miles, long of chicks, right?”

“So?” I said.

“So, you went off like a psychopath on a guy who sounds like a goddamn monk compared to this dude. This guy has a different chick every night. Enjoy Chicago, Beth, because you’ll likely not see him after. This guy is one and done,” he said and drank his beer.

“Huh,” Rebel Love said, “but maybe not. Bethy could get him to change his mind, I bet. What are you gonna wear?”

“I have no idea. I need to go shopping. Um, can you help me?”

“Of course,” Rebel Love said.

“Um, you don’t have time to shop,” Ivory-Lou said. “Flight leaves tomorrow.”

“No! I thought it said...”

“Lord, you didn’t even look at the date,” he said. “Don’t call me when you end up in Zimbabwe. I worry about you, Beth. Your flight leaves tomorrow morning at ten.”

“Oh, wow. I have to prepare! How am I going to be ready?”

“We will get it done and you will be perfect, Beth!” Rebel Love said.

“Shit, I’m looking at her right now and she looks like she needs a week just to look presentable enough to go to goddamn Walmart,” he said and laughed.

“The Lord is going to strike you down for taking his name in vain so much, Ivory-Lou,” I said as I shook my head.

“I’d welcome it at this point, cuckoo, least I’d have some goddamn peace.”

I sent texts to everyone in my contacts list with a picture of the plane ticket and they were suitably impressed. I was packed, shaved, mud-masked and in bed and I called Declan as my stomach flopped around so I could leave a message. I didn’t at all expect him to answer.

“Hey!” he said. “Just got to the hotel, I think you’ll like it.”

“I’m sure I will,” I said and tried not to scream.

“What are you doing?” he said and yawned.

“I’m in bed.”

“That sounds nice,” he said. “And tomorrow, I get you in my bed. I’m excited!”

“Me too. I’m a little nervous.”

“Nervous?” he said. “You’ve got nothing to be nervous about, Beth. It’ll be fun. I’m looking forward to it. It’s our first date.”

“I like that...our first date,” I said and smiled. “Okay, I’ll relax.”

“That’s my good girl. I will see you tomorrow. I have to run,” he said and hung up.

I stared at my ceiling and made a wish that everything I expected to go wrong, would not go wrong.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“Well, this is déjà vu, isn’t it?” Rebel Love said as she pulled up to the departures lane at the airport.

“Yep,” I said and took a deep breath. “Shit, last time I was nervous, now, I’m terrified.”

“Have a beer right before you get there, it’ll calm you down. And, it’s free!”

“Yeah, free? Good, I’ll have a few.”

“Don’t get ridiculous, though. You want to make a good impression. Man, I wonder if there’ll be photographers at the airport. Can you imagine Mama seeing you on the cover of the
Enquirer
or something?”

“Yeah,” I said as I got a little dizzy. “What if he doesn’t show, Rebel Love?”

“What do you mean?”

“What if I get to the airport and he’s not there. What if this is all a joke...a trick?”

“Why would he do that, Beth? You’re not thinking straight and I think you’ve watched
Carrie
a few too many times with Ivory-Lou. The man ain’t gonna send you a first class plane ticket and not show up just to humiliate you!”

“Can I pull this off?” I said as I leaned my head against the window.

“You pulled off New York just fine.”

“That was different. India and I, as much as we’re different, we’re the same. This guy is famous, Rebel. What if Ivory-Lou’s right?”

“First off, Ivory-Lou is a bit...jaded. And second, wait and see. Take things as they come and enjoy things as they happen, rather than thinking a million steps ahead all the time. You will miss all the best parts by trying to plan and control what you think is going to happen, Beth.”

India sent me a text wishing me luck and Stephanie sent me one telling me to breathe as I stepped onto the plane. I walked right through first class and one of the flight attendants turned me around and walked me back to my seat.

“That’s coach,” she said and wrinkled her nose, “you’re flying first class. Can I get you anything...blanket, pillow, eye mask?”

“Beer?” I said.

“Of course,” she said.

I put my head phones in and leaned back against the soft headrest as I hid the iPod under my jacket. The flight attendant brought me a beer in a real glass and told me that I could take the window seat if I wanted because no one was sitting next to me.

I looked around the cabin as the other passengers embarked and a young-looking priest sitting across the aisle from me was the only other passenger besides me seated in first class.

“Oh, Beth, you are going to hell for this,” I said under my breath and looked across the aisle at the priest as the door to the plane closed. “Excuse me, sir?”

The priest opened his eyes and looked at me and smiled.

“Yes?” he said.

“Um,” I said and took a deep breath and pointed at my head phones, “I’m listening to
Tuesday’s Gone
by Lynyrd Skynyrd. That’s all...I wanted.”

He turned toward me in his seat and tilted his head.

“I know that song. Lovely piano solo.”

“You know Lynyrd Skynyrd?”

“Yes,” he said and chuckled, “I’m not that square. As a matter of fact, I’ve quoted
Simple Man
quite a few times to my congregation. Powerful messages there. You should get that one to add to your collection.”

“I will, thank you,” I said and smiled. “I only listen to this on planes.”

He looked at me and squinted.

“You only listen to Lynyrd Skynyrd on planes?”

“Tuesday’s Gone
specifically,” I said and took a sip of my beer.

“May I ask why?” he said.

“Because fu...um, well, because it’s sort of ironic the way he died, rest his soul, and it has a lot to do with facing fears and being strong.”

“Not tempting fate or taking risks?”

“Well, not foolish risks, of course,” I said.

“Of course,” he said and smiled. “You’re standing up, saying this is me, I dare you to say it’s not, yes?”

I looked at him and leaned back in my seat as the plane taxied.

“Yes, yes, exactly,” I said and I pressed play on my iPod. “I dare you.”

I had a beautiful dream when I was flying through those clouds listening to
Tuesday’s Gone.
I dreamt as I walked down the corridor to enter the arrival area of the airport, I saw great flashes of light bouncing off the walls and heard a loud commotion. As I entered, Declan White stood there holding a bouquet of roses and was surrounded by hundreds of photographers. Stephanie stood next to him holding a boom box blasting
Tuesday’s Gone
. I looked beautiful as Declan ran up to me and kissed me. The photographer’s flash bulbs popped and hissed and they shouted at us. A great sea of girls came running toward us, trying to get to Declan. He did not even look at one of those girls. He kept his eyes on me the entire time and he told me I was beautiful. And I believed him.

“Dear,” a woman whispered in my ear, “you’re here.”

I opened my eyes and looked around for the priest as I wiped the drool off my chin.

“Here, where? Chicago?”

“Yes, Chicago,” she said and smiled.

“No! I needed to do the bathroom...makeup. Shit,” I said and gathered my things.

“You look fine, dear. Have a nice time in Chicago,” the flight attendant said.

My foot fell asleep on the plane and I limped down the corridor as searched through my bag for a mirror.

“Jesus,” I said as I walked out of the gate at O’Hare. “not today, Beth. Don’t act like yourself today.”

I ducked into a bathroom and fixed myself as I tried to wake my foot up.

“You are too sober for this,” I said as I looked into the mirror.

I walked out into the passenger arrival area and I looked around for Declan or a swarm of photographers. There was neither.

“He’s just late,” I said as I walked around searching for him.

“Miss Munroe?” a man in a black suit said. “Are you Beth Munroe?”

He held up a sign with my name on it and I smiled.

“Yes, I’m Beth Munroe.”

“I’m Patrick, I’m Mr. White’s driver. I’m taking you to the sound check and then on to the hotel. Is that your only bag?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Did you want to go or do you have...”