#TripleX (19 page)

“Why are we flying?” she whispered. “Why are we in the air?”

I ignored her question and pointed my hand out to the left of us, right behind her. “Do you not see the big freaking pink unicorn in front of us?”

She pitched forward to turn around, which rocked the car faster. “Ohhh. Pretty!”

“What was in that stuff, I can actually see noises!” I laughed.

Seriously.

Everything I looked at had a fast techno beat. Boom. Shake. Boom. Boom. Shake. My shoulders bounced to the rhythm. My head bobbed up and down to the sounds. Lights melted together and bled into each other—making rainbows everywhere.

“It had to be the mint. That was some mint,” she marveled.

“I really love you, you know? You’re like my best friend. And you’re the best best friend in the world,” I said, tears of pure joy filling my eyes.
We should get tattoos of each other’s names
.

“I love you too. Really. We like complete each other, right?” She wrapped her arms around me and hugged me tight. She might have licked my face. I wasn’t sure if it was Angelisa or the unicorn, because he was somehow nuzzling along with us, smelling of cotton candy. I licked his horn, and he tasted like all other unicorns taste—like sugar and spice and everything, but rice.

“I feel like dancing,” I yelled.

She leaned back, her face twitching spastically. “I think you already are dancing.”

“Let’s take Tatum and the unicorn and go dancing!” I screamed, waving my hands in the air. The Ferris wheel was making a descent, and my stomach fluttered up into my nose. All my organs were rearranging, dancing themselves through my body.

We spun through the sky, dancing and swinging the car until it stopped on ground level. “You can’t swing the cars like that ladies! I’m afraid you’re going to have to get off the ride.” The Ferris wheel operator demanded, opening the bar that held us in.

The three of us rolled out, laughing and tumbling down the metal aisle to the ramp of the ride. The unicorn was the loudest. I hoped he didn’t get arrested. “Let me see your penis,” the unicorn said, poking at the operator with his hooves.

The operator leapt back swatting his hands away from the bright pink animal, “I’m a woman, you asshole!” Her nostrils were flaring, spit was spewing out of her mouth, and she was looking at us like
we were the ones
that said it.

Oh.

Maybe she couldn’t see the unicorn
. Maybe there was no unicorn. I lifted my eyes over the rim of my glasses and peeked. The unicorn smiled at me. Shit. I was higher than a kite.

Ewwww. Then either me or Ang asked to see her penis?

“I’m calling security!” she screeched.

Ang and I launched onto our feet and ran. We ran so fast I was sure someone would have stopped us just to ask us to join the Olympic track team. The lights and sounds of the pier blurred by in crazy motion. We were lightning, bolting through the crowds. I only stopped once to reach out and swipe a cloud of pink cotton candy from a sidewalk vender.

Ang got to the bike first and fumbled with the lock mechanism. After a few tries, she started gnawing on it with her mouth. Shouts and screams sounded somewhere behind us.
Damn, we had to get out of there!

The bike chain finally opened and jingled a techno beat as it hit the cement. We both grabbed onto the handlebars and ran, jumping and falling over it, and then standing it up and trying again.

My right hand caught in a spoke, and I screamed at Ang as she started to pedal away. The unicorn yanked it out and helped me onto my seat.
Why the Hell couldn’t he let me just ride him instead? Selfish equine. Selfish, horny equine.

Catching my breath, I started pedaling my feet madly. Wobbling, we veered through the crowds and cried out in horror as we bumped and vaulted down the concrete steps. Making a sharp left, we careened onto the bike path traveling faster than the speed of light. Joggers and speed walkers flung their bodies out of our way. A mother pushing one of those jogging strollers screamed out a string of profanities and threw her kid’s bottle at us.

Lake Michigan smudged like a long blue stain to the left of us as we maintained our frantic pace. Sweat glistened over my arms, and the sun stung at my skin. Angelisa swerved the bike to the right when we hit Randolph Street and crossed through traffic and pedestrians. Cars honked and slammed on their brakes. I was breathless, leaning forward—ass up in the air, pushing my legs faster.

We were traveling west down Randolph when the beautiful glistening sight of the Grant Park Buckingham fountain came into view. Both of us leaned into the curve of the pathway and sailed in front of the fountain and came to a stop so abruptly that my entire body slammed into the back of Ang’s.

“Arrgh!” I grunted through a mouthful of her hair.

Without warning, both of us followed the pink unicorn over the low metal gates and splashed knee deep into the water and ran across to the other side. The water was shockingly cold and bit at my skin. “Hey!” a deep voice called out to us, but we didn’t stay to find out to whom it belonged. We ran to the bike and dragged it up. Climbing on, we pushed forward, stumbling and wobbling until we could balance ourselves and propel forward.

Continuing down the street, we made a sharp left on Wacker Drive—just because the name was so funny—which made laughter and oxygen difficult to handle at the same time.

I slammed my feet down in front of a tall building, and we skidded to a stop.

“What’s wrong?” Ang asked over her shoulder.

I pointed up at the building. “This is where the Skydeck is,” I whispered in amazement.

The bicycle crashed to the sidewalk as we ran through the entrance and dashed across the lobby erratically. We found a stairwell and got up to the seventh floor before we collapsed and crawled our way from the steps to where we found the elevators. The unicorn dragged us the rest of the way, up 103 floors to The Ledge where we stood in the glass bottom room of the tower.

The world was clear. Bright. I thought I saw all the way back to New York from the window. I snapped a load of pictures of my face pressed up against the glass. The joy I felt, the pure awe and amazement, made me want to break out in dance.

Strangely, I felt a musical coming on
.

I pulled out my phone and turned on my iTunes, smiling at each person in the glass room with us. God, I was so happy. I wasn’t even walking. I was skipping and flying and singing. I was dancing. I waved to the people watching to follow along, “Flash mob! Come on people!”

Ang jumped next to me raising her hands and shaking her ass along with the music. I didn’t say anything else. I knew the power of the music would bring everyone together. All eyes were watching us. Vivid and crisp and real,
sexy
… I felt like an exotic dancer.

Ang and I stepped onto the stage, the breathtaking view of Chicago behind us, but no one saw, they only had eyes for us. Dressed in leather and lace, satins and silks, sex oozed from our flesh. My stilettos clicked against the glass floor, and the lights of the city flickered and blinked around us. I spun slowly around her as the song played. She rolled her head around in quick flips, long strands of hair slapping and blowing against me. We slid up and down each other and cooed at the men surrounding us, slithering our hands over our breasts and up over our necks. Dollar bills flew at us.

“Okay, ladies. That’s enough!” Someone yelled. I squinted my eyes in the direction the voice came from and was met with a man dressed in a dark uniform. SECURITY was written in big block letters across the left side of his chest. The chest that I skimmed my fingertips over when I danced up against him. He was handsome with dark brown eyes and big full lips. Ang twirled around behind him, and we sandwiched him between us. “I love a man in unicorn—I mean in uniform,” I whispered against his ear.

Then my lips were on his.

Our lips parted when he dragged us over to the elevators and punched the button. His eyebrows downcast, lips tight. When the elevator doors opened, we scrambled in quickly. The doors closed behind us and before I could say a word, his tongue was back in my mouth, and Ang was whistling and trying to lift up my shirt to show him my boobs. The elevator was descending; I could feel every inch of descent in the flutters of my belly. His mouth was rough, and his hands grappled and clawed at my shirt until I was slammed into the side of the wall. His body melded into mine.

Ang was next to us, still dancing and singing to the music that had stopped the minute we entered the elevator. The doors dinged, and the guard and I both looked up toward the red number of the twenty-first floor. The doors glided open and three business suits walked in.

“
Jesus
,” Ang hissed and laughed next to me. “You kissed the guard, and it was hot!”

My eyes were still locked with the security guard’s. “Shhh,” I whispered back. “Did you hear that? That’s the sound of my vagina exploding.”

Loud abrupt laughter bubbled out of her mouth, and she leaned her shoulder against mine. We fell in a pile of twisted arms and legs. The elevator door closed again, and we continued to plunge through each floor.

We reached the lobby, and the security guard helped us both to our feet.

Directing us to the security desk, we sang, “I Will Survive,” at the top of our lungs to the elevator music that drifted from somewhere. He shoved a bottle in my face, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, “Here drink something. What on earth were you two ladies doing up there. Are you high?”

High. Ha.

After taking a sip, I looked carefully down at the bottle and gave him a wink, “This beer tastes like I’m going to text you later…”

“That’s water.”

“Tastes like shit then. Don’t expect a text,” I laughed, shoving it back into his chest.

“Can you put me in handcuffs?” Ang asked, giving a pouty face and raising her wrists.

“No Ma’am, I think you’d better—”

“I wanna be handcuffed if she gets to be handcuffed,” I said, pushing her out of the way. “I’m the one that accosted your mouth. Let’s do that again, but with handcuffs!”

“Okay Doll--anytime,” the guard said, slipping a folded up piece of paper into the front pocket of my jeans. “Time for you ladies to get going before I have to call the authorities!”

“No handcuffs?” I asked.

“No, Ma’am. Not today.”

Angelisa shoved me through the front entrance, “Gotcha, Hot Stuff. She’ll be back tomorrow.”

We stood outside on the sidewalk and looked around. “Well,” Ang shrugged, “What are we going to do now?”

I flicked my ex’s credit card out and waved it in the air. “Shopping spree!”

An electric shriek pierced through my temples. I groaned and shifted my body, cupping my hands over my forehead to try to stop the sensation of impending implosion. “Please stop,” my voice croaked.

The horrible noise continued.

My hands fumbled around clumsily for whatever was making the sound. I peeled my eyes open and saw nothing but darkness—just the screeching sounds of someone’s alarm or phone penetrated my eardrums. My neck was stiff and every inch of my body ached. I lifted my head slowly only to realize I was on the floor in front of the bed.

Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I tried to focus. There was a pile of what looked like corndogs next to me on a plate, and they smell like fried death.

Climbing up to my legs, I looked around and found the culprit noisemaker. Ang’s damn phone again. Walking over, I peeked at the screen. The caller ID read: “ASSHOLE.”

I looked around the room, and Angelisa wasn’t there. “Ang?” I called out.

No reply.

I swiped her phone open and yawned. “Mmm hmm?” I muttered sleepily into the phone.

“Good afternoon.” A woman’s voice said pleasantly. My eyes darted to the clock. It read 1:30 p.m. I shook my head in disbelief and tried to focus on the woman’s call. “This is Emily, Mr. Ryan’s personal assistant. Am I speaking with Angelisa Stone?”

“Nope,” I answered. Then yawned loudly and opened the hotel blinds. Bright sunshine filled the room.

“Christine?” The voice asked.

“Yep,” I answered.

“Thank you. Please hold for Mr. Ryan.”

Hold for Mr. Ryan?

What the Hell does this dude do for a living? I sat holding for five minutes listening to a horrible rendition of some One Direction song being sung in slow motion. Just when I thought there could be no music worse than country, I hit the jackpot of crappy tunes thanks to
Mr. Ryan
.

The phone clicked, and Jake’s voice boomed. “Why do you keep answering her phone?”

“The caller ID said asshole, and I wanted to hear what one sounded like,” I snapped. I held the phone between my shoulder and ear and walked around the room looking for Ang. “Why do you have a PA? You cure cancer or something?”

“No. I—”

I didn’t have time for his crap. My head was pounding, and I noticed the sheets of my bed covering something extremely huge. I wasn’t going to uncover it until I had Ang for backup. I was positive I remembered only half the stuff we did the day before.

“What do you need
Mr. Ryan
?” I asked, walking into the bathroom. I found Ang asleep in the empty bathtub, cuddling with a pink stuffed unicorn.