Just One Week (Just One Song) (4 page)

I scan every surface in my apartment, looking everywhere except directly at Chase. My robotic feeling has left, and I’m fighting hard to keep the emotions of the day far away from me. I do not want to break down over this. I do not want to cry over losing a job.

“I don’t really know, to be honest,” I begin and take a sip of my wine. It’s more like a gulp. Chase shoots me a funny look when he watches me guzzle the wine and then re-fill my glass. “Devan called me into her office this afternoon, gave me some song and dance about the economy not recovering, and then said something about me not being committed since I was taking time off over the next few weeks.”

“Well that sucks. Got any idea what you’re going to do?”

“No Chase,” I snap at him and look down at the clock on my phone. “I got fired about an hour ago. I have no idea what I’m going to do now.”

He shakes his head, knowing he’s pissed me off but smart enough not to say anything about it.

“Why are you really here?” I ask before he can say anything else. Chase throws me off sometimes. He can say things with a look and I know exactly what he means, but sometimes he just watches me, like he’s doing now, and there’s a whole story book inside his thoughts that he’s not voicing even though it may be on the tip of his tongue. It’s one of the reasons we stopped talking – because he kept watching.

“Because I missed you?” He says it with a smirk and wink and I know that whatever was just going on in his mind is gone now. He’s teasing me and it makes me feel like we’re back to our friendly normal banter, even if it is just for the moment. I’ll take it tonight.

I simply roll my eyes with a smile, perhaps the first genuine one since my lunch with Marcia. “I thought you were in L.A.”

“I was. Have you been around Zack and Nic lately? It’s like watching porn all day long. I came back earlier this week to get away.” He takes a drink and acts annoyed, but he doesn’t really care. Hell, he probably likes watching them make out.

“So why are you here?”

“Thought I’d stop by and figure out why you haven’t returned my calls.”

I set my glass down on the counter and my palms flat down on the cold laminate countertop so he doesn’t see that they’re trembling slightly. What am I supposed to say that doesn’t make me sound like a bitch or a slut? I just wanted you for sex and you started turning it into something more? I shrug my shoulders and turn my back to him, ignoring his question, and dig through my fridge to pull out some cheese and grapes.

I pop a grape into my mouth and turn back around when I hear Chase sigh, my signal that he’s letting it go.

“Fine. We can let it go for now, but I stopped by today because I’m taking a jet back to California tonight. Thought I’d save you having to fly commercial at the butt ass crack of dawn tomorrow.”

I’m momentarily speechless that not only is he not pressing the issue of me avoiding him, but offering to help me. Why does he always have to be so damn nice?

“I can’t get a refund on my ticket.” It’s a lame excuse and just so I don’t have to see him giving me a look that tells me how stupid it really is, I turn around to re-fill my glass. “And I haven’t packed yet.”

As if that really matters.

“Shut up, Mia. I’m asking you to come with me. I can cover the cost of your ticket.” He sounds annoyed now too.

I spin around, eyes flashing in anger. “I’m not letting you pay for me. Just because I lost my job today doesn’t mean you need to pay for my plane ticket.”

I’m overreacting. I know it. I can’t even put my finger on why this makes me mad.

“That’s not why …” I watch him take a deep breath and rub a hand over his hair. With as long as it is, he must have started growing it out as soon as I stopped taking his phone calls. A twinge of jealousy hits my stomach at the thought of other women rubbing their hands through his hair, so I take another large swallow of my wine to push it down. “You know what? Never mind. I want you to come with me. Are you in or out?” His voice is softer now, and there’s a hint of a smile on his lips, but I can tell from the tightness in his body that he’s still annoyed with me. Without looking at me, he drains the rest of his beer, throws it in the garbage can, and heads to my fridge for another.

I can’t figure out why he’s watching me like this, why he even cares anymore that we haven’t spoken, or why he looks a little bit nervous – maybe – as he waits for my answer. The thought of spending hours on a plane with him makes me uncomfortable, knowing he’s going to ask me again about why I haven’t returned his calls. On the other hand, leaving on a chartered jet tonight sounds a lot better than waking up at three in the morning to catch a commercial flight.

“Fine. I’ll go pack.”

Chase takes a pull from his beer and plops himself down on my couch like he belongs in my small space. “Good.”

We pull up to a private strip just off LaGuardia Airport’s main terminals. I’ve flown on a private jet for work a few times, and once with Nicole, but all of those times were out of Minneapolis where Nicole and I used to live. For some reason, riding in a rented limo and boarding a small charter plane with Chase leaving New York and heading for L.A. makes me feel silly. Like I’ve suddenly stepped into a life that’s not my own. Now I understand how Nic felt when she first started dating Zack. As her best friend, I could see how good Zack was for her. It was as if he instinctively knew she needed slow and gentle in a relationship, and he gave it to her. But watching someone start dating someone as famous as Zack from the sidelines was a lot easier to deal with rather than it happening directly to me.

I’m still nervous as I stare at the plane. It’s just Chase. We’ve known each other almost two years now and it’s just an airplane ride. This doesn’t mean anything more than Chase being the nice guy he normally is.

Except Chase isn’t nice. He’s strong and powerful. His temper flares quickly when he’s irritated - at least when I’m irritating him - and he doesn’t put up with my sassy crap. He gives as good as he gets and we can spar back and forth for hours before a simple shoulder shrug from one of us calls it quits and we move on. He’s also the sexiest and most incredible lover I’ve ever had. His body is large and the first time we hooked up, I almost worried that he would crush me with his weight, but he’s gentle and attentive in bed, sometimes. Other times, he’s demanding and rougher, taking me wherever he can easily pick me up and move me. His hands are large and rough, callused from holding drumsticks in his hands for hours every day and when he picks me up and wraps his hands around my waist, his thumbs and fingers touch – completely covering me. He’s also smart, has an incredible sense of humor, successful, and in love with his job, but he mostly just likes to have fun.

He’s essentially everything I would want in a long-term relationship, if I wanted one.

“It’s not going to crash, you know.” Chase’s deep voice breaks me out of my thoughts.

I frown when I realize what he said to me. “What?” I ask, confused.

“Your breathing picked up when you saw the plane and your cheeks are flushed. I thought maybe you were suddenly afraid to fly.”

I laugh softly. Oh god, my body just totally got turned on thinking about Chase and his hands and the great sex we used to have and he caught me. I’m such a moron.

He gives me a funny look when I laugh, but I wave him off. “I’m fine. No problems at all.”

He watches me with a questioning look in his eyes, then nods once and climbs out of the car. Once outside, he props one foot up against the wheel well of the limo and lights a cigarette.

“Haven’t quit yet?” I ask and wrinkle my nose. Chase knows I hate smoking, but I also know he hates the idea of quitting. It’s not really an issue, just one more thing we tease each other about.

“Don’t worry,” he says as he exhales a flowing swirl of smoke and winks at me. “I brought my breath mints.”

I roll my eyes dramatically in response, despite having to bite back a smile. The weekend I showed up on their first tour with Nicole, I handed him a tin of strong mints and told him if he wanted to kiss me he’d have to have one after every cigarette. He looked at me like I was nuts. Then he smiled, popped in a mint, and kissed me like I’d never been kissed before. Before I realized what was happening, I found myself plastered up against the outside of their tour bus, gasping for my breath and my common sense when he finally pulled away.

“You keep kissing me like that and I’ll make sure I always have mints on hand.”

The memory makes me smile just as Chase walks around the corner of the limo, cigarette gone, and pushing the tin of mints back into his front pocket with a wicked smile on his face.

Just as I’m boarding the plane, my phone signals a new text message from Nicole. Digging my phone out of my purse, I frown when I read it.

Nic:
Have a fun trip with Chase. See you soon. *wink wink*

I don’t have to wonder what the winks are for. She’s been firmly on Team Chase for two years now and has been completely flabbergasted as to why I suddenly ended things. I haven’t bothered explaining and she hasn’t stopped pushing. It’s the fact that she knows I’m flying with Chase that makes me pause. What are these two planning, and how did she know I’d agree to fly with him?

The plane is like a living room with wings. On one side is a gray leather couch with a coffee table in front of it and two navy blue chairs facing each other on each end of the couch. The other side has matching navy blue leather chairs with a table in front of them where you can easily sit and eat a meal. A flat screen TV is imbedded into the wall above the chairs and I can see a small kitchenette in the back.

“This is … wow.” I look at Chase who has a sheepish grin on his face.

“Kind of cool, huh?”

“You were going to fly on this by yourself?”

He shrugs and flops down on the couch looking slightly nervous. My stomach starts to sink as I wonder if he did this for me. I don’t need extravagance like this and it makes me wonder for the second time what he’s planning. What he wants from me.

Does he expect after six months of not talking that we’ll just go back to our friendly benefit arrangement? I like him, I do. I just don’t think I have it in me to give him anything more than that and I’m not entirely sure he’s okay with just that anymore.

Or I’m being completely pretentious and egotistical and losing my job today has totally messed with my head.

I take one of the chairs across from the couch and pretend to look that I’m neither uncomfortable nor losing my mind.

“So I don’t really want to get my head bit off again,” Chase begins and I slide him a glance. His legs are straight out in front of him and crossed at the feet, resting on the coffee table while his arms are slung wide against the back of the couch and his shirt is stretched so tight across his biceps that it looks like the threads could split at any second. He simply consumes the space. “I just want you to know that if you need some help finding a new job, I’m sure between the guys in the band we could help you find something in New York … if that’s where you want to stay.”

The last part of his comment makes my breath hitch. Of course I want to stay in New York. I love it there, even if it did take some time to get used to. New York is the hub of the fashion industry, why would I want to leave? I have to stay there. But other than my job, I don’t have any real friends or family there. Nic is all the way across country and my parents and brother still live in Minnesota.

I haven’t thought of leaving New York, but is there any reason to stay?

I shake the thought out of my head, which Chase takes as a ‘no’ on his offer.

“I appreciate the offer,” I explain, much more nicely than I did at my apartment. “I just haven’t had any time to consider my options. Thanks though.”

He nods and is silent while the one flight attendant comes out and offers us drinks and tells us we’ll be taking off shortly. A few minutes later, I’m pretending to read the magazine I grabbed on the way out of my apartment as the plane starts moving and we’re lifting off.

We’re somewhere over who-knows-where an hour or so into our flight when the silence between Chase and I becomes so thick that I can’t even pretend I’m still reading my fashion magazine.

He’s been scribbling lines in his notebook. It’s a brown leather composition book and the edges are worn and tattered, the spine is almost completely falling apart, and it’s filled with lyrics and beats to songs that he’s either written or is working on. I watch him work silently for several minutes and simply admire him. Occasionally, he rubs one hand across his hair and makes a face like he’s not completely comfortable with the feel of it. I have a picture on a bookshelf in my living room that Nicole took when she went on her first tour with Zack. They’re in the back room of his tour bus sitting on a couch with their heads bowed over this same notebook. Both of them have a small frown in between their eyes as Zack’s fingers rest on the fret board of his guitar and Chase is holding two pens in his hands, mimicking the way he holds his drumsticks. It’s by far my favorite picture of Chase because he never looks sexier than when he’s working on his music.