The Fire Walker (7 page)

"Hey, we better go going," Chris said, tugging on Simone's arm.

Hugging the guy’s goodbye they offered one last wave before wandering off to that weird place between countries. Which was just one big waiting room, but still weird.

As they disappeared out of sight, my shoulders sagged. I still had Zoe and Will next to me, but I suddenly began to feel alone. That was bad news. All caps. Zoe threaded her arm through mine and her other through Will's.

"Two hot guys on my arm," she laughed, pulling us away. "We'll see them again, Dee Dee. It's not the season premiere of Lost. They won't crash on a mysterious island with a smoke monster."

"I know."

"I know what it's like," Will said. "You get used to having the guys around and when they're gone it's bloody quiet."

"It'll be good to have a little break. You can do whatever you want," Zoe continued. "What are you going to do?"

As we walked through the crowd of travellers back out to the taxi rank to find a ride back into the city, I wondered the same thing. That would depend on how things went with Jessie. I wanted to see New York, but I didn't want to follow her or anything. Not if she didn't want me to.

"I dunno," I said truthfully. "I'm gunna stay here a few days then decide. Maybe San Francisco. New York. Las Vegas."

"Hey, maybe we could meet up somewhere along the way."

"Maybe."

As we stood in line, it didn't escape me that Zoe was watching me with that look on her face. You know, that look that women get when they know you're trying to say shit to please them? That one.

"What was Simone talking to you about before? She seemed rather excited about something."

Will looked up like he was interested, but he offered a small grimace as if he knew. Brothers-in-arms and all. "Nothing."

"Dee, you made me talk about shit all the time when Will," she smiled up at him, "gave me the run around. If something's messing with you, you can tell me."

"Nothing's messing with me," I blatantly lied. I didn't know why I wanted to keep things from Zoe. Maybe it was a strength thing. I'd never really had any massive problems before - none that needed a deep and meaningful and especially crap that needed to be said in front of Will.

"Okay," she said. "We'll talk later."

"I'm busy later."

She turned to face me front on, a knowing look on her face. "Really? Doing what?"

"I'm going out."

"With Jessie?"

"What are you my Mum now?"

"Nice work." Will fist bumped me, earning him an elbow in the gut from Zoe.

"Where are you going?"

I shrugged.

"You haven't thought about where you're taking her?"

I shrugged again. I was too busy compiling a list of conversation topics because if I winged that part of the date I'd be a blubbering idiot.

"Dee."

"I'll work it out. I'm sure it'll be fine. I'm not out to be something I'm not and something I'm not is a planner."

For the second time in as many days, we sat in the back of a taxi all the way back into central LA, my mind all over the place.

"Just be yourself," Zoe said. "That's why we love you. It's why
I
love you."

"Be myself, huh?"

"You're a good guy," Will put in. "If she can't see it then,
meh.
Depends on how much you want her."

Well, I'd soon find out. By the time we got back to the hotel, I wouldn't have much time to contemplate it, let alone have a shower.

"Advice taken under consideration," I grinned. If there was one thing I was good at, it was being myself.

307.

I looked at the gold numbers on the door and took a deep breath. Checking my phone again, it told me it was six fifty nine. I knocked before I could back out, then rubbed my sweaty palms against my jeans.

The door opened a moment later and I almost swallowed my tongue. Jessie stood there, smiling up at me and I was gob smacked. I don't know what I was going to say, but mind, erased. She was wearing tight black pants with a dark grey shirt with studs around the collar, sleeveless so her tattoo was on full show. I wanted to reach out and touch her, but I shoved my hands deep into my pockets. Her hair was all done up with little pieces trailing around her face and neck, the kind that begged to be tucked behind her ear as an excuse to trail a hand across her cheek. She looked stunning and I suddenly felt way underdressed in my black jeans, slouchy white t-shirt and denim jacket.

"Hey," she said, her perfume wafting out into the hall and smacking me around the face. All vanilla and spice.

"Hey." For added awkward points, I added, "You look nice." Out of all the words in the fucking dictionary, I chose
nice
?

She stifled a laugh, her eyes narrowing. "Thanks."

"Are you ready?"

"Yep. Have you decided on a place?" she asked, closing the door behind her.

"No," I admitted. "I was just gunna wing it. I don't know that much about LA."

As we walked down the hall, she began chatting like we were old friends and my chest swelled. "Well, I was looking online and I found this traditional American Diner which is meant to be amazing. So, as you're a guest in this country it's my duty to give you the full treatment."

I hoped the full treatment included a kiss at the end of the night.

"Greasy, sugar, fat loaded carbs."

I rose an eyebrow.

"What? Can't a girl eat a greasy hamburger once in a while?"

"Sounds good." I pressed the button to the elevator about a million times.

"Don't do that. It doesn't come any faster if you keep pushing it," she laughed, grabbing my hand.

Instantly, I felt sparks run up my skin. You know, up until that point I thought that was crap made up for girls to read about in romance novels, but her skin against mine was… well, I imagine that's what it'd feel like to stick a knife in a toaster and fry yourself. Then, when we stood in the car in the way down to the foyer, the air felt like it was crackling. How could you
not
feel that?

The door opened with a ding and fresh air hit my flushed face. As Jessie walked out in front of me, I let my eyes travel down her back, across her ass and down to her shoes, which were those slouchy biker boots women liked to wear. Nice.

"The Diner's just down the street, actually," she said, almost catching me staring at her backside. "We can walk it if you want."

"Sure." She could have said anything right then and my answer still would have been,
sure
.

The Diner she took me to was actually pretty nice. It was exactly like the kind you see in TV shows and movies. A nineteen sixties time warp, complete with jukebox and red and white checkered tablecloths. The waitress put us in a booth by the window and I slid into the seat across from Jessie, fidgeting with the menu that was shoved under my nose.

"Get whatever you want," I said. "My treat."

"Oh, so he's old fashioned," Jessie joked.

"Unfortunately."

"Why is it unfortunate? Girls like guys who buy them dinner." She winked and I felt a flush rising in my cheeks like I was a sixteen year old boy.

"Girls like the bad guys. There's not much call for putting jackets over puddles these days."

"Well, you've obviously been hanging around the wrong women then," she said, flipping open her menu. "Now, for the full American experience, you need cheesy fries. It's compulsory."

Thankful she'd changed the subject, we put together the fattest, greasiest meal we could manage, which wasn't hard, and the waitress took our order with a raised eyebrow. A few minutes later we had two strawberry milkshakes in front of us, complete with whipped cream and cherries on top. Jessie's eyes were bright like she was having the time of her life. It was so low key and silly, I instantly relaxed.

"So, have you been here before?"

"America? No, first time."

"How do you like it?" she asked dipping her finger into the cream and popping it into her mouth. Damn.

"It's okay. It's good to be someplace different."

"Have you been anywhere else?" Her finger slid over her lips and back to the cream.

"I've never really travelled," I said, trying to keep focus. "I mean, I wanted to, but I had to sacrifice a lot of things to get to where I am now with the band and everything."

"I know what you mean," she sighed and leaned forward putting her elbows on the table, affording me a bird's eye view right down her top.

"You mean, interning?" I asked, looking away before she noticed me staring at her breasts.

"Yeah. It's unpaid, so I have to work elsewhere to pay the bills."

"What kind of work?"

"Waitressing. I'm pretty lucky my boss understands. He's met Georgie, so he cuts me some slack," she laughed, shaking her head.

"How do you do it?" She looked at me confused, so I said, "Put up with her?"

"Georgie might be… you know, but she's good at her job. I can learn a lot from her and I have."

"By doing her washing?"

"There's worse things than washing Georgie's dirty panties," she said, making a face.

That's when the waitress decided to come back and place our order in front of us, her expression reading,
what the fuck
. I stifled a laugh and thanked her.

"What's Australia like?" Jessie asked, grabbing one of the cheesy fries.

"Compared to here? Well, it's not as fast. Everyone says hello when you walk into a shop. People ask how you are, even if they don't care. We drive on the opposite side of the road…"

"So, it's like living in a mirror."

I got her meaning and smiled.

"Where do you want to travel?"

"Everywhere," I replied, not put off by her constant questions. "I guess I'm lucky to come here on Galaxy's tab, and hopefully I'll get to do a lot more touring with the band…"

"That would be amazing," she sighed. "Touring Europe in summer."

"Have you been? Do you want to go?"

"I've never been, but I'd love to go. Paris in summer. Berlin… oh, imagine the music scene in London. They have amazing festivals over there."

"So, you'd go for the music?"

"I like to visit museums and stuff, but the music scene is where you really get to know a place, you know? Like it's different in LA to Seattle to New York. They all have their different genres and fashion and people. It's amazing."

"That's true," I said thinking about Australia vs. the US.

"Did you like playing here? The gig last night was brilliant."

"Thanks," I shrugged.

"What? Didn't live up to your expectations?" she frowned.

"I dunno, I guess I feel more separated here."

"Why's that?"

"Back home you can go out into the crowd and meet people. They don't want to mooch off of you for drugs and alcohol. People want to talk to
you
, not the thing you're meant to be." I looked up from my burger and right into her confused face. Her
beautiful
confused face. "Why are you looking at me like I've got two heads?"

"Everyone who comes to make it big in LA wants those things."

"Well, I dunno what mailing list you're subscribed to, but it ain't mine."

"You're straight edge?" She cocked her head to the side, a chip in her fingers dripping melted cheese into the bowl.

"Alcohol, yeah," I said. "But, I've never done a drug in my life."

"Really? Smoked?"

"Nope."

"Why?"

"Because a sick sad part of me doesn't want cancer?" Her questioning my life choices like that kinda annoyed the hell out of me. Like I couldn't live unless I've been off my face on E that'd been cut with laundry powder? Fucking hell.

"I didn't mean anything by it," she said quietly. "It's just you don't meet many people who haven't at least tried something once or twice."

"I'm old fashioned, I guess."

"You take care of yourself," she declared. "I like it."

We ate in silence for a while, neither of us seeming to know how to continue. All those things I'd thought about asking her just pissed off somewhere else and I couldn't think of anything. Her eyes were on her plate, so I stared at her, willing something to come to mind.

"Why'd you move to New York?" She looked up, her eyes widening for a moment and I wondered if I'd asked the wrong question.

"The same reason everyone moves there," she said. "To chase a dream."

"What's your dream?"

Her teeth tugged at her bottom lip and she let out a long sigh. "I'm not a musician like you. I wanted to have that kind of life, though. I think about music much the same as you do. I can't live without it. The only other thing I could've done was be a music journalist or work at a label. So, I managed to get an internship and here we are."

"Just like that?"

"Well, that was the condensed version, but yeah."

"Do you want to be a marketing manager?"

She laughed wryly at my question. "Sounds boring when you say it like that, but it's not really a nine to five job."

"Not really," I grinned thinking of the stuff we got up to touring and recording.