Tracks (Rock Bottom) (23 page)

Most of the conversations with him about Jeremy go like that. Sometimes I smirk at him, knowing he’s saying these things out of jealousy. But, I never say that to him. It’s actually kind of cute and sweet.
Someone jealous over me?

My
Dad is happy with my grades and is content with the fact that I’m doing so well in school. He has even gotten off of my back about my job, since he learned that I’m able to study there. He is not, however, particularly happy to hear about my trip to Orlando. I try not to talk to him much because the more he attempts to convince me not to go, the more nervous and excited I get to go there.

The night before I’m finally supposed to leave for Orlan
do over my three day weekend, Jeremy and I talk shortly. The plane will be at the airport for me at 6 a.m., and I want to make sure I’m well rested.

“You better
be well rested,” Jeremy croons. “You won’t be getting much sleep. I’ve been unattended to for over three weeks now. That’s longer than I’ve ever gone since I was 12.”

I smile. “It’ll be worth it. I know I’m not one of your usual fly-by-night girls, but I’m hoping sex is nice with me.
”

He sighs. “It’s so nice, baby. And it means everything. You mean e
verything. You are everything.”

I pause, waiting to hear the words. I mental
ly will him to say he loves me.

“Goodnight, baby,”
he says, yawning.

I sigh and hang up.

In the morning, I wake-up to my alarm blaring annoyingly in my ear. I go through my normal morning routine- shower, coffee, brushing my teeth. Theresa isn’t here to do my hair or help me with my outfit since she’s staying with Sean, so I’m le
ft on my own. I put my hair up into a high ponytail. I choose a plain black tank top that fits snuggly. It pushes my breasts up high and exposes some cleavage. I put on high jean shorts and black wedges. It might be a chilly September here, but it will still be summer in Orlando.

When Rich arrives, he gives me a hug and grabs my suitcase for me. After we get into the car, we take a short ride to the same airport that Jeremy had been weeks before. I remember how sad I was last time I was here, and it’s in direct contrast
with the way I feel right now.

The flight takes about three hours, so I’m thankful to be on a private plane.
I’ve never been on a private plane, but I assume it’s a larger plane than other private ones. Rich and I are the only passengers in the entire plane, plus the stewardess, so the space is unbeatable. The interior is brown with a white couch along the side where the door is located. There is a shorter white couch opposite the door and a white table with white seating surrounding it. The bathroom is much larger than on a normal plane, too. The door at the back of the cabin leads to a similar brown room with a large, light brown bed and two bed stands. I stare, annoyed, at the bed, and try not to wonder who he’s had in it.

I try to entertain myself on the plane to no avail. Towards the middle of the flight, I start to fidget.
I move and adjust every few seconds. The latter half of the flight, my stomach begins to hurt. I go to the bathroom three times to fix my hair and try not to hyperventilate.

When the plane lands, I feel like I’m going to pass out. I’ve never been so nervous in my entire life.
Most of our relationship at this point has been through phone calls and text messages. What if he’s built me up in his head somehow and I’m not what he remembers?

I see the door
to the plane open and stairs being placed next to the doorway. The engines cut off, and Rich tells me it’s time to go. I tremble as he helps me up. Rich laughs at me and puts his hand on my back. “It’s okay Miss Dylan. Don’t be nervous. He loves you.”

I stare at him
, surprised.

Rich nods. “Trust me.”

I adjust my shirt and walk towards the door. Immediately, the bright sun and sprawling heat hits me. I shield my eyes as I see the long steps in front of me. ‘Damn me for wearing wedges,’ I think. Rich walks in front of me and I clutch to the railing, concentrating as I walk down the stairs.

Suddenly, I hear “Dylan,” over the wind. I stop and look up, and see Jeremy at the bottom of the stairs. His face is so beautiful, sunken and defined. He hasn’
t shaved recently, and he practically has a full beard. Short dark hair almost covers the top of his lip and haphazardly grows around his chin and up towards his hair. It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.

His hair is being tossed in the wind, along with the skinny black tie he wears around the collar of his
white shirt. Despite the heat, he wears a black short sleeved blazer and long black jeans.

I see him smile and his bright blue eyes sparkle. Surprisingly, I find myself choked up. I’m no longer scared of the steps, and I almost run down them, wedges
be damned.

He opens his arms when I get close, and I fall into them. The spicy sent of him hits me instantly. I bury my head in his neck and he puts
one of his hands around my head and one around my waist.

“M
iss me?” he whispers in my ear.

Tears fal
l down my cheeks. “Oh, Jeremy.”

I press against him harder, and feel him growing against me. He pulls away. “Sorry abou
t that,” he says, as I giggle. He wipes the tears away from my face. “You look amazing, as usual, and it’s been a while…” he trails off. He grabs my chin and brings my lips to his. The kiss is sweet and soft.

He pulls away and smiles. He grab
s my hand and says, “Let’s go.”

He walks me a short distance across the asphalt and to a lo
ng, black limousine. The driver- a tall, lanky white man dressed in a typical blue driver’s uniform- opens the door for us. I slide across the black bench in the back of the long car, and Jeremy gets in after me. The driver shuts the door and walks towards the front.

“What about Rich?” I ask as we start to pull away. Jeremy puts his arm around
me, fiddling with his pockets.

“He’s catching his own ride,” Jeremy pulls out a cigarette box. He takes his hand away from around me, flicking the lighter from the box and lighting the cigarette hanging from his mouth. I watch him
blow the smoke out of his lips.

He turns to stare at me. I stare back. “I missed your eyes,” he says, stroking my cheek with his free hand. I s
mile. I don’t know what to say.

He takes another drag on his cigarette and blows smoke, slow and steady, out of h
is mouth. I bite my bottom lip.

He laughs. “What?”

“How long before we get to the hotel?”

His smile fades and his eyes smolder
, picking up on my sensual undertone.

“20 minutes or so,” he says, low and deep. He flicks his c
igarette out of the open window and shuts it. He hits a button on the ceiling of the car, and a black window separating us from the driver closes.

Suddenly, I find myself climbing on top of him.
He gasps. I grab at his tie and move my fingers through his beard. I pull his face towards me and kiss him, hard.

He grabs my waist. “Dylan, wait,”
he says, but I kiss him harder.

“Shut up,” I
tell him between kisses. His eyes look amused. I undo his black tie and he pulls my shirt up and over my head, exposing my new lacy blue bra.

“Wow,” he says, admiring. I kiss him passionately.

“I hope you’re not too fond of this shirt, Mr. Mason,” I quote him, putting my hands in between the button openings in the front. I pull hard and watch the buttons pop off, exposing his tattooed chest. I run my hand over the dream catcher.

“Holy shit,” he says, breathing heavily.
He looks astonished. I’m not sure what’s come over me either. Excitement to have him here, relief to be with him again, the memory of the way he makes my body feel, there are so many emotions I can’t handle when I’m around him.

Jeremy and I fully enjoy our ride to the hotel, which luckily takes more like 30 minutes instead of 20. When the driver opens the door to let us out in front of the huge glass doors, I think I see him smirk at the sight of Jeremy, who carries his tie in his hand and exits the car with his shirt wide open.  My c
lothes, luckily, seem to have survived intact.

After we step
onto the sidewalk, the madness begins again. I hear clicking and see lights flashing wildly at us. Girls scream at Jeremy, desperately trying to get to him. Fortunately, I see as I look side to side, the police have already been informed that we were coming, and block off the girls and photographers.

I look up at the huge doors, lined in gold. Jeremy grabs my hand and squeezes i
t quickly. “Go ahead, I’ll be there in a minute,” he says, smiling. I smile and walk towards the doors as Jeremy walks over to some girls and begins to sign a CD cover.

The doorman opens the door for me, welcoming me to the Waldorf Astoria, and I wa
lk into a huge lobby. I gasp at the elegant interior. The floor is a white and brown pattern, swirling around a statue of an antique looking clock. Above the clock is a dome ceiling with a twinkling chandelier hanging from the middle. The walls are all white except for directly behind the clock statue where the wall turns a deep shade of blue, offset by five huge different color paintings.

It’s so quiet in the lobby that
when I step slowly towards the front desk, my footsteps echo. The screaming girls suddenly get louder, and I turn around towards the door and see Jeremy enter. The sound of the girls die down as the door shuts behind him. His shirt is still open, and he struts into the lobby, smiling widely.

He reaches me and puts his hand lightly on my back. “I think I’m a little under dressed,” he whispers in my ear as he leads m
e up to the front desk. I snort, stifling a laugh.

The front desk is a long, dark brown monster that lines the entire back wall. There are a few women standing behind it, wearing black vests and smiling happily at everyone. “Mr. Mason,” an older brunette wom
an says. “How can we help you?”

“I’d like an extra key to the suite for my
girlfriend
,” he purrs. My stomach flip-flops excitedly at the title. The woman happily reaches in a drawer under the counter and produces an extra key. She wishes us a good stay and Jeremy leads us to the elevator.

“Suite?”
I say, turning my head and raising an eyebrow at him as we enter the silver elevator doors.

“You have no idea,” he chuckles
lightly, leaning nonchalantly against the wall.

The
elevator reaches the top floor and we step out into a room with a large decorated carpet. Across from the elevator are three door openings, through which I can see a large, ornate sitting room. “Oh,” I say, walking towards a doorway. It’s like walking into the past.

I enter
the first room, a large living area with Victorian-style décor. The walls are light green with gold rectangular accents scattered throughout. There are two large windows to my left that are decorated with large gold curtains. A plush gold couch and two green chairs sit underneath the windows with a dark brown coffee table in front of them. There are two more green and gold couches facing each other in the center of the room. Towards the back of the room in the corner, a black baby grand piano sits. Dangling from the ceiling is an eloquent crystal chandelier.

I run my hand across the antique gold and brown desk to
the left of the doorway. “Do you like it?” I hear Jeremy say, low and quiet.

I turn towards him. He leans in the doorway, his feet crossed. “Yes,” I breathe passionately. “Though, it’s not reall
y your style.”

“I got it for you. It’s called the ‘Royal Sweet.’
It’s new here in Orlando. They have one in New York,” he babbles nervously. His eyes trail my body. I blush.

“You didn’t have to do this, Jeremy.” He’s given me so much already, and I know I can’t keep
encouraging his lavish spending on me.

“Sure I did,” he says,
walking gracefully past me and smiling wryly. “Especially since you’ve been hanging around with what’s-his-name.” He approaches the piano and turns to sit at the bench.

I roll my eyes as he lifts the drawer covering the keys. “
Scott
,” I correct. Jeremy has made it quite clear that he does not approve of the friendship between Scott and I. And that’s without my mentioning the way we met. Or the fact that he comes over when Theresa isn’t home.

“Well,
I thought it was important to show you that I may not be a billionaire, but I can show you a good time,” he stretches his fingers for a moment, and closes his eyes, escaping into deep concentration. He pounds hard on the keys. A beautiful chord plays.

I smile
lovingly at him, though he doesn’t see it. “I don’t want money from either of you. Besides, Scott isn’t a billionaire yet.”

“Oh that’s right,” Jeremy plays a few more chords. “Because
I
, unlike
him
, made
myself
rich and wasn’t born with the good fortune of having a wealthy Mumsy and Dadsy.” His voice is dripping with sarcasm.