Greatest Distraction (Distracted #1) (7 page)

“This. Is. The. Life
,” Elle crooned.

We were both lying face down on a rather comfortable leather
massage bed, two hunky men working us over. Not like that, you perv; massaging us. It would have been super perfect if only Jorge and Gustaf weren’t completely gay … and married to each other. Dang it. See, this was why women like me have such a hard time with men. All the mega hotties with great personalities, and hands, are either taken, gay, or both.

I moaned my agreement as
Gustaf’s magic hands smoothed between my shoulder blades. It really
was
the life. After becoming closely acquainted with death the past few days, I needed this. I was completely relaxed, boneless; moving was a prospect I was already beginning to dread.

“So, what all do you need to do before you go? Have you called your mom to tell her?”

I tensed, mentally cursing Elle. Seriously, she had a knack for knowing just what to say to get to me. Damn it, I did NOT want to ruin this massage with thoughts of my mother.

“Elle, I think you missed the memo. Massages are supposed to be
relaxing
. I would’ve thought with a house like yours, and with your kids and all, you’d cherish that idea.”

“Oh, I am
… I’m perfectly relaxed. Then again, I’m not the one with, well, your mother.”

I sighed. She was right – my mom was, well, bat
-shit crazy about covered it. Losing my father had done things to her, despite the fact they’d been divorced by then. His leaving everything to me only made it that much worse. She’d spiraled out of control; drugs, men, you name it, she’d done it. It’d been hard to see, especially when I’d needed her. Now she mainly only called when she needed money, or to get bailed out of jail … again. Recently she’d taken on this whole “I’m-going-to-be-your-mother” bit, along with her street walker routine, and flipped shit if I didn’t call her every time I decided to leave the zip code.

“No.”

“No, what? No, I’m not the one with your mother, or no, you haven’t called her?” she asked, her tone confused, even as the sound of Jorge karate chopping her back floated toward me.

“No, I’m not going to call her.”

“Ryen,” she started, but I cut her off.

“No. That woman is
not
my momma. She used to be, but now, I don’t even recognize her. Let someone else bail her out of trouble. It’s not my fault Daddy died. It’s not my fault she’d found a younger man and left him. Jesus, they were divorced for almost four years before the accident. I’m sick as shit of having to deal with her. Can you divorce your parents?”

It took me a second to realize that
Gustaf had stopped massaging me as my voice rose. I sat up a little to look at him, my eyebrows raised, before I plopped back down. He got the message and started back up, having to work out the tension he’d already released once. Thankfully, Elle dropped the subject and I was able to enjoy the rest of my massage.

Unfortunately, her silence only kept until we got situated in the bath chairs, our plush provided robes
tightly wrapped, and our feet in the warm water.

“I’m sorry for ruining your massage,” Elle said. My face snapped up to find hers downcast and her expression unreadable.

“You didn’t … just … I imagine I feel like she did when we were fifteen and snuck out to go to that senior party with those guys, remember? For the life of me I can’t remember their names.” I shook my head, deciding it didn’t matter though I knew it was going to drive me insane. “Anyway, I just, I can’t take care of her anymore. For once, I want to do something for myself.”

“And this trip is just that
… for you,” Elle finished my thought process, knowing me well. “For what it’s worth? I think it’s about damned time you stopped bailing your mom out every time she calls. She is
not
your responsibility.”

I’d never admit it out loud, but her support in me meant a lot. I couldn’t help but feel guilty
; I mean, she’d given birth to me for godsakes, but there comes a time when you have to do what’s best for you. This was it for me.

“Oh, and it was Jake and Dennis,” she added, and I snapped my fingers in approval.

“That’s them! Man, they were hot.”

Elle’s snort of laughter broke the seriousness of the mood. She sounded like freaking Babe laughing like that, and I just stared at her, crooked smile in place. Why was she laughing? They were
… weren’t they? Damn, just like their names, I could barely remember their faces. I did, however, remember the experience. We’d gotten into so much trouble, but it had been worth it. We’d dressed well beyond our age, painted our faces within an inch of doll-like, and lived it up that night. I think we’d even had a couple beers.

“What is so funny
?!” I asked her, incredulous, squinting like it would help me see them better in my mind. It didn’t, but I couldn’t help but try.

“Please. Please,” she panted, out of breath, making me feel stupid. “Dennis was built like a football and Jake was square
… literally. He was shaped like a freaking square.”

“Huh. Maybe you’re right, I can’t remember. Quite literally, I can’t remember their faces at all.
Or anything about them, really. I
do
remember how much trouble we got in trying to sneak back into the house, though.”

“I don’t think it was the ‘sneaking’ so much as the fact that you broke the
damned window. Your dad, man, he was mad,” she said, still chuckling.

“Not my fault! I was trying to lift the stupid thing
… You’re supposed to press upward when opening a window! Not my fault it busted completely,” I grumbled, hiding my grin. Dad had grounded me for a week. Ironically, he’d also grounded Elle … who didn’t even live there. He’d even done the finger wag at me. God I missed him. What I wouldn’t give to hear that “my rules, my house, my way” lecture again. I’d take every long, drawn-out talking to he wanted to dish out as long as I could run and jump into his arms and have him hug me.

I hadn’t realized silence filled the room, affecting everyone around. Elle was fidgeting with her nails, while both
mine and her pedicurist stopped their work, looking between us. I took a breath, ready to fill the void with anything possible, except Elle beat me to it.

“Anyway, you never answered me. What all do you have left to do before your trip?”

“Tell my boss and pack,” I told her, more grateful to her than she’d know for changing the subject. The subject of my mom was just depressing and disappointing; my dad, on the other hand? That was also depressing, but for different reasons. I wasn’t really the ‘let’s-talk-about-it’ kind of girl. I’d accepted the losses of both of my parents, to different things, but accepting it didn’t mean it was my favorite thing to talk about.

“What about Chris?”

“Oh! I almost forgot to tell you! I broke up with him.”

“
What?! When? How could you just forget to tell me something like that? Especially when I’ve been practically begging forever for you to leave him?” Elle’s head had snapped over to me, her eyes narrowed in equal parts accusation and happiness.

“Yesterday, over the phone.” She opened her mouth to speak but I held up a hand, stopping her. When her mouth
snapped closed, I continued, “I know, I know, I should have done it in person. As it was, it still took me two hours to get him to accept it. If we’d been face to face? I shudder to think what a debacle that would’ve been.”

“Two hours? Wow. I’m assuming it didn’t go well since it took so long. He
beg?”

“Yep. Worse than a dog
wanting the female in heat just outside his glass door,” I told her, pursing my lips together. Elle snickered, which soon turned into full-blown laughter, and I smiled, grasping my champagne glass tightly to my chest before sipping it. She stopped so abruptly I almost dropped my glass, turning to stare at her.

“What?” I asked, concerned. Elle was thinking something, and chances were I wouldn’t like it.
Sure enough.

“You’re single! Oh. My. God,
Ryen!! You’re single!”

“Um
… duh.” Geez, could she be saying that any louder? I’m pretty sure that even Gustaf’s next client could hear her, and he was behind a closed door with relaxation music on. “Shout that a little louder, friend. I’m pretty sure the old biddy under the hair dryer didn’t hear you.”

“No! You’re going to be
single
in Manhattan! The Big City!
The City of Dreams!”
Her eyes were bright, excited, but I still wasn’t getting it. Yes, I was going to New York City … we’d already determined that. What did it matter if I was going single?

“So?” I caved when she continued looking at me with her eyes wide. There were days we were completely in sync and we could finish each
others’ sentences. Then there were days like today, days where I was pretty sure our brains lived in different worlds.

“How can you not know what this means! You’re going to find love! Hell, you’ll probably fall head over heels
in
love! Your dreams will come true.”

“I think having kids has completely eroded your mind. I’m more than happy for
you, that you found your Mr. Right and that he’s an all-around amazing guy. I know how important he is to you, how important the girls are to you, but
my
dream? My dream is
not
to find Prince Charming and go frolicking into the sunset. I don’t believe in ‘endings’ like that. Dreams are dreams for a reason.”

“You’re so cynical. You didn’t used to be, woman. And you just wait. You’re going to meet someone, trip over your own feet, and realize it is you
r dream after all,” Elle said, shaking her head sadly though her eyes still gleamed with happiness.

Cynical? Me? Why, just because I didn’t believe in fairy tales anymore? Hmm
… maybe she’s on to something, but still. I don’t think I’m anything – I’m just me. Okay, perhaps the ‘
me’
is a little cynical. Just don’t tell anyone I admitted it.

Chapter Six
 

“Attention: flight number fourteen-sixty-two, originally departing for John F. Kennedy at four twenty-three, has been delayed. New departure time is six eighteen. We’re very sorry about the delay. Again, flight number…”

“I get it, damn it; my flight is delayed. Shut. Up
,” I said loudly, ignoring the disapproving looks from fellow plane waiters. The voice on the loud speaker had been announcing the delay of my flight for the past ten minutes and it was annoying. Add in the fact that I got to the airport early, around eleven, and you got a very grumpy Ryen. Usually I had opposite luck, and got stuck in security checks, complete with full body X-ray scans. Not today though, especially not when I was this excited.

In the week since mine and Elle’s spa day,
I’d gone shopping, for clothes this time, gotten the time off from my not-so-happy boss, packed, gotten my eyebrows done, and put a re-route on my mail; Elle had offered to go through it for me, which I was grateful. I’d paid the bills on my condo for three months, and, luckily, since I owned the condo, I didn’t have to worry about rent. I also didn’t have to worry about boarding any pets, or any animals going belly up while I was gone. Since I’d long since given away the kitten that … well … the kitten that
he
had gotten me, I was pet and, mostly, responsibility free. Good thing, too. I’d never have wanted to make Elle go through the trouble of dealing with so much of my baggage.

It had taken three suitcases, a carry-on duffel bag, and my purse to take all the things I needed to have in the big city. It would have been four, but Elle reminded me that she kept the place pretty stocked regarding soap, shampoo, even an iron, blow dryer, and hair
straightener.  Other than clothes and shoes, the only other contents were some makeup. Whoever got the droll job of checking my bags for explosives was going to be in for a bored shift. Or, well, maybe an exciting one when they got to the bag with my lingerie. What can I say? I like lacy things, they make me feel pretty.

“Attention: flight number fourteen-sixty-two, originally departing for…”