I gingerly patted my face dry and headed out to the information desk, walking rapidly through the airport. As far as airports go, Tampa International is easily my favorite… easy to navigate, decorated well… it was just nice. Nick had told me he’d have them page me with the info, but I had no idea how that would work exactly. I knew it wasn’t going to be Nick making the actual reservations, so I figured even if the info desk didn’t have the actual info… it’d be the most logical place to start.
I walked up to the booth, interrupting a woman in the middle of eating a drippy sandwich. “Hi… I was wondering if I could find out if I’ve got a ticket waiting for me…”
“Your name?”
“Summer Kingsland…” I said, hoping they’d actually be in my name and I wouldn’t have to play some guessing game over which combination of our names he might have dreamed up.
She looked around, like she knew she should have something. She reached for an envelope and handed it to me, complete with greasy fingerprints.
“Uh, thanks.” I took the envelope and tore it open as I walked away. Nice, he’d managed to get the airline I liked best… and a flight that left in less than an hour … and a first class seat! Hell yeah! I’d so have to kiss him when I got to LA.
I got on the train to the other part of the airport, where the gates where, and was a little surprised at the little pang of sadness I had as I watched the palm trees fly by outside the windows on the short ride. I was leaving Florida. That wasn't that big of a deal, it's not like I'd never left the state before, but this time... I was running away. Yeah, I had a lot I needed to get away from, but this seemed like such a pussy escape. I couldn't deal with it, so I ran.
I stepped off the train and waited through the insanely long lines to get through security and ambled down to my gate. Just getting there had taken long enough that I only had a few minutes to wait before I got to board. I've never understood why first class passengers get to board first... everyone else has to walk through first class, banging around their carry-on luggage, so there all the first class people are, dodging the bags and musical instruments and gift bags so they can keep their heads.
I walked onto the plane and took my seat - by the window, whether by request or coincidence, I was thankful for that. As the rest of the passengers lumbered through the cabin, I flipped through the safety brochures - being that I was going to be flying over land - including a giant desert - the need to use my seat cushion as a flotation device seemed unlikely. I wished I'd have had money on me to buy a book at the airport, I had no idea what I was going to do through this flight without something to read.
The flight wasn't nearly as crowded as I would have expected and I actually had the row to myself. Okay, this was looking better all the time. I flipped up the arm rests and stretched out. Who needs to read? I'm sleeping my way to LA.
I sat back after a scowl from the flight attendent and began to wonder what was I going to do in LA? I couldn't expect Nick to really hang out and be my personal tour guide... I had no idea what he was doing and I wasn't going to interrupt it. If he had free-time, fantastic. If not, I guess I'll find someway to entertain myself. I could... shop. No one goes to LA without shopping, right? That should keep me occupied for a day or two. Maybe by then I'd be ready to go home, feel strong enough to go back and kick Zack's ass all the way from the Bay to the Keys. Or Possibly Cuba.
~~~~
I woke up, totally disoriented and more than a little surprised I hadn't fallen off the row of seats, as I had managed to slide rather close to dangling precariously off the edge. The flight attendent was tapping my shoulder, telling me I needed to sit in my seat, as we were getting ready to land.
Damn, that was fast. I'd waited until the plane had taken off to officially get comfortable after the test-stretch while waiting to taxi down the runway.
I sat up, re-did my seat belt, and looked, blearry-eyed out the window. So that was Los Angeles... or well, I guessed it was Los Angeles... based on the clusters of buildings, houses with pools that were visible from the air as we began to descend through the clouds, and the smog. Holy hell. Welcome to LA, I thought.
--
I stepped off the plane, not having a clue what to expect. Was Nick going to be here? He told me to call, I guess that meant at home... and collect again. Forward thinking has never been our strong point.
I meandered around, laughing at tourists with their heads swivveling in a million different directions, hoping to see one final celebrity before they left LA or trying to spot a star as soon as they stepped off the plane. I finally found a pay phone, only one of them, as everyone in LA has like nine cell phones, three two-ways and... whatever the hell else they play with out here.
I made another collect call and Nick picked up, "Are you here?"
"Yeah, now what?"
"Just take a cab out here."
"Out where?" I asked, then listened as he gave me an address. Wow, I hope I remembered that. I hung up and headed for the door, trying to run and grab a cab before the address left my still-sleep-fuzzy brain.
I tried to look around, take in as much of the scenery as I could on the way to his house… but I couldn’t even pay attention to it all, there was too much to look at. In the distance as we sped along – I saw the Hollywood sign. It’s just a big, white bunch of letters. Everyone has seen it on tv and in the movies a zillion times, but there was something about seeing it in person, up on that hill… that sort of struck me right then. Immediately, a connection was made somewhere in my brain and I thought of the movie “Pretty Woman” and that man that showed up all over the city talking about dreams. “Welcome to Hollywood! What’s your dream? Everybody comes here, this is Hollywood, the land of dreams. Some dreams come true, some don’t. But keep on dreamin’, this is Hollywood. Always time to dream, so keep dreamin’.”
I could see my reflection in the window of the cab – what the hell were my dreams? I didn’t know… and if I didn’t know, no one else was going to be able to tell me. At one point, I’d been very sure of them, or well, at least one of two of them. But now… who knew? A few short hours ago I’d been berating myself for running away and now… I wondered if maybe this was what I needed. To get away, take a few days to step back and see who I was now.
As my thoughts began coming together, the cab stopped. I opened the door and told the driver I’d be right back, I had to get money. I slid out of the car and looked toward the house – it surprised me, but it didn’t. It was one of the smaller ones on the street – Nick maintained that he never did need much to keep him happy, and really, I knew that was true. I saw the door open, and he walked out, with a backwards baseball cap on wearing blue jeans and a t-shirt, barefoot. He gave me a smile as he walked my way – I guess he’d been waiting for me and watching – and I was relieved. I didn’t know it, but I’d needed to see him. I needed the familiarity, the comfort. He brushed past me to pay the cab driver and as the car drove off, he came back to me, wrapping his arms around me in a tight, reassuring hug.
“I’m glad you’re here” he said quietly, squeezing me gently.
“So am I.” I said, feeling so much better already. I guess he was just what I needed.
He took my hand and led me into the house. As he turned to lock the door behind him, he got his first good look at me in some light. “You look like hell, Summer.”
I’d kind of forgotten about that, I probably did look terrible. I asked for a bathroom and he pointed me down the hall and I gasped as I got in front of a mirror. I DID look bad – the bruises I’d suspected had shown up – and he was right, I looked like I’d gotten the hell beaten out of me. Seeing the bruises made me suddenly aware of how much the rest of my body hurt. I guess I’d been ignoring it until something reminded me of it.
I saw his reflection in the mirror as he moved behind me and lightly put his hand on my arm to turn me around to face him. He reached for my face, his fingers gently moving over the bruises.
“You’re going to have to explain this some time, but I’m not going to ask now.” he said, his palm against my cheek.
I leaned into his touch, “I will… “
“I know… let’s get you to bed, okay? Get some sleep… you’re safe… we’ll talk in the morning.” he leaned into me, kissing my forehead.
I breathed an audible sigh of relief and contentment, and followed him into his room, changing into the t-shirt he tossed me and fell into bed.