The Stopover Read online

  “Will you stop whining?” Molly snaps. “It’s like hanging out with my fucking kids.”

  “This drink is too strong,” he chokes. “I notice you didn’t get one.”

  Molly’s attention comes back to me. “Anyway, what’s this secret?”

  I stare at them. God, I don’t even know if I should be saying anything to anyone, but I need someone to talk to.

  “Promise me you won’t say anything to anyone. Not even Ava,” I ask.

  “Yes.” They both roll their eyes.

  “Okay,” I continue. “You know how I told you I have been trying to get a job at Miles Media for over three years?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Well, just over twelve months ago I went to a wedding in London, and I was flying directly back to New York for an interview here.”

  Aaron frowns as he concentrates on my story.

  “At the airport in London, this fruitcake man behind me in the line was having some kind of episode and started throwing my bag around.”

  They both stare at me, confused.

  “Anyway, the security guard ushered me to the check-in counter and told the guy to look after me. I was given an upgrade to first class.”

  “How cool.” Aaron smiles and raises his drink happily.

  I brace myself for the next part of the story. “I was seated next to this man, and we began drinking champagne and . . .” I shrug. “The more we drank, the more inappropriate we got, and we began talking about our sex lives.”

  “Did you get kicked off the plane?” Aaron says, with wide eyes.

  “No.” I sip my drink. “Could have easily, though.”

  Aaron puts his hand to his chest in relief.

  “Then there was a blizzard in New York, and we had to fly on to Boston for an overnight layover. This guy was like . . . ridiculously hot.” I smile as I remember him. “He was so not my type, and I wasn’t his, but somehow we ended up fucking like rabbits all night long. It was the best sex I’ve ever had in my life.”

  “I love this story.” Molly smiles. “Go you.”

  “I never saw him again.”

  Her face falls. “He didn’t call?”

  “He never asked for my number.”

  “Ouch.” Aaron winces.

  “I know; so you can imagine my horror when I saw him at work this week.”

  “What?” they both gasp.

  “Oh my God, it’s fucking Ricardo, isn’t it?” Aaron frowns as he takes a big mouthful of his drink. “I can’t handle this story. Please don’t tell me you fucked him, and he gave you an STD. I won’t be able to cope.”

  “It was Jameson Miles.”

  Molly’s eyes nearly bulge from her head. “What?”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” Aaron gasps and accidentally snorts his drink up his nose and has a coughing fit.

  They both stare at me, wide eyed.

  “When I went to his office on the tour, he asked to be left alone with me.”

  Molly shakes her head. “Is this real?”

  I nod.

  “I have no words for this story,” she whispers.

  “I do—oh my fucking God.” Aaron hits her on the arm in excitement. “What happened?”

  “He asked me out to dinner.”

  “What the actual fuck?” Molly cries really loud.

  “Shh,” I whisper as I look at the people around us. “Keep your voice down.”

  “Are you serious?” she whispers.

  “I said no.”

  “What?” Aaron cries this time.

  “Keep. Your. Voice. Down,” I demand. “I can’t go out with him. I have a boyfriend.”

  “Your boyfriend’s a dick. You even said so yourself,” Molly stammers.

  “I know, but I’m not wired like that. I would never cheat on somebody.”

  Aaron shakes his head. “Jameson Miles could wire me any way he wanted to.”

  “Right?” Molly agrees. “What happened today?”

  “He marched me up to his office and accused me of getting hit on in my working time.”

  Their mouths fall open in horror.

  “And . . .” I pause. I probably shouldn’t tell them we are being watched. I’ll keep that one to myself. I dig out his card from my wallet and slide it across the table, and Molly picks it up and stares at it. “Even his name is hot.” She reads the card out loud. “Jameson Miles. Miles Media. 212-639-8999.”

  “I told him he couldn’t have everything he wanted, and he said he does, and then he licked my neck,” I blurt out.

  “He licked your neck?” Aaron shrieks. “Oh Lord have mercy.” He picks up the menu and begins to fan his face. “Please tell me you’re going out with him tonight.”

  “No.” I shrug. “I can’t, and besides, it’s the fastest way I know how to get fired.”

  “No job is that good,” Aaron snaps. “I wouldn’t turn him down to be the fucking president.”

  We all giggle, and then my phone vibrates across the table.

  “Oh . . . my fucking God,” Molly whispers as she stares at my phone. “It’s him.”

  “What?” I stammer as I look down at the number lighting up the screen.

  She holds up the business card in her hands, and we compare them.

  “The number calling you is fucking him.”

  My eyes widen. Holy shit.

  Chapter 5

  “Answer it, answer it,” Aaron cries.

  “What do I do?” I flap my arms around in a panic.

  “Holy fuck. Answer it,” Molly demands as she picks it up.

  “Don’t answer it,” I stammer as I try to grab it from her hands. She holds it in the air and waves it around.

  “Answer it, woman,” she demands.

  I snatch it from her and stare at it while it buzzes. “I’m not going to answer it.”

  Aaron snatches the phone from me and hits answer. “Hello,” he says in a fake girl’s voice, and then he passes it over to me.

  “What the fuck?” I mouth.

  “Hello, Emily,” Jameson’s velvety voice purrs.

  My eyes widen as I look at my friends’ awestruck faces. Aaron crosses himself as if he’s in church and makes a praying gesture.

  “Hello.”

  “Where are you?” he asks.

  “In a bar.” I glance around as I hold my hand over my other ear to try to hear him better. Shit, I’m not telling him where I am; I look like crap. I hold my breath as I listen.

  “I want to see you.”

  I bite my bottom lip, and Molly hits me on the arm to snap me out of my nervous freeze. “I told you I have a boyfriend,” I blurt out. “I can’t see you.”

  “Holy fucking shit,” Aaron mouths to Molly as he scrunches his hands in his hair.

  “And I told you to get rid of him.”

  “Who do you think you are?” I stammer.

  Molly and Aaron listen intently.

  “Go outside. I can’t hear you,” he barks.

  I stand and walk through the bar and outside onto the curb, and it falls silent.

  “That’s better,” he says.

  I glance up the street at the cabs all in a row. “What do you want, Jameson?”

  “You know what I want.”

  “I have a boyfriend.”

  “And I told you what to do.”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “Yes, it is. Give me his number, and I’ll save you the job.”

  I smirk at the audacity of this man. “You know, your arrogance is a turnoff.”

  That’s a blatant lie—not even close.

  “And you’re a turn-on. I’ve been hard all day. Get over here, and put me out of my misery.”

  I hear my heartbeat in my ears. Is this really happening?

  A drunk couple totter past me, and I have to move so they don’t run into me. “Sorry,” they call.

  “I’m flying out to California in the morning,” I blurt out.

  “To see him?”

  “Yes.”
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  “He stayed behind?”

  I scrunch my face up tight. Damn it. Why did I say that? “Yes.”

  “When you see him, I want you to do something for me.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Ask him if he feels like he might die if he doesn’t get to touch you again.”

  I frown. “Why would I ask him that?” I whisper.

  “Because there’s another man who does.” The phone clicks as he hangs up.

  I frown as I stare at the phone in my hand as I feel tingles all the way to my toes.

  Holy fucking shit.

  I put my hand over my mouth; I can’t believe this.

  I stumble back into the bar to find my two friends bouncing in their chairs as they wait for my return. “What happened?” they all but scream.

  I slump and put my hands in my hair. “He wanted me to go over to his place and put him out of his misery.”

  “Holy fucking shit,” Aaron cries. “Can I have your autograph?”

  “Are you going?” Molly stammers. “Please tell me you’re going.”

  I shake my head. “No.” I think for a moment. “He told me to ask my boyfriend if he felt like he would die if he didn’t get to touch me again.”

  They frown as they listen.

  “Because there is another man who does.”

  “What?” Molly screeches. “Oh holy hell, we need tequila.” She gets up and disappears to the bar.

  “He asked you to his place?” Aaron squeaks.

  I nod.

  “Do you know where he lives?”

  “No.”

  “Park Avenue, overlooking Central Park.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Google. He used to live in the One57 Billionaire Building, but he moved out of there and into a building on Park Avenue. His apartment is worth something like fifty million.”

  “Fifty million,” I gasp. “Are you serious? How could anything be worth fifty million dollars? That’s just ridiculous.”

  He shrugs. “Beats me. Must have gold toilets or something.”

  I giggle as I get a vision of someone sitting on a gold toilet.

  Molly sits back in her seat and hands me a shot of tequila. “Drink this, and then go and fuck him stupid.”

  “I’m not going,” I snap.

  “Well, what’s the plan of attack?” she asks. “Are you playing hard to get?”

  “No attack. I’m going home to see Robbie tomorrow.” I exhale heavily. “I need to sort out our relationship, and hopefully he will come back with me.”

  Aaron rolls his eyes in disappointment. “Can’t you at least be as excited about Jameson Miles as we are?”

  “No. I’m not. And remember, not a word to anyone.” I sip my drink. “I know exactly what will happen with Jameson Miles. I’ll sleep with him once, and then he will move on to his next victim, and I’ll be conveniently fired.” I shake my head in disgust. “I’ve worked too damn hard to get this job, and this is the man who didn’t even want my number the last time we slept together.”

  Aaron turns up his nose. “God, why are you so sensible?”

  “I know, it totally sucks.” I sigh.

  Molly’s phone rings. “Please let it be Jameson Miles looking for a backup plan,” she huffs with an eye roll. “Hello.”

  She frowns as she listens. “Oh hello, Margaret. Yes, I remember who you are. You’re Chanel’s mother.”

  She smiles as she listens, and then her face falls. “What?” Her eyes widen. “Are you serious?” She pinches the bridge of her nose. “Yes.” It sounds like she’s unable to get a word in. “I can understand why you’re upset.”

  She narrows her eyes and shakes her head at us. “I’m so sorry.”

  Aaron and I frown at each other. “What’s happened?” I mouth.

  “How explicit are we talking?” she asks. Her eyes widen. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry.” She listens. “No, please, don’t go to the principal. I appreciate you calling me first.”

  She closes her eyes as she listens. “Once again, my sincere apologies. Thank you. I’ll handle it, yes. Goodbye.”

  “What?” I ask.

  She puts her head in her hands. “Oh my God. That was Chanel’s mother, the girl my son is crushing on. She went through Chanel’s phone and found provocative messages between them.”

  I bite my lip to stop myself from smiling as I listen. “That’s pretty normal in this day and age, isn’t it?” I try to make her feel better. “I think they all do it.”

  “How old is this girl?” Aaron asks.

  “Fifteen,” Molly cries.

  I giggle as I listen. God, I can’t imagine what it’s like to have a teenage son. She dials her ex-husband’s number. “Hello,” she snaps. “Go into your son’s bedroom, and grab his phone, and throw the damn thing in the toilet. He is grounded for life.”

  She listens.

  Aaron and I begin to giggle uncontrollably.

  “Michael,” she says as she inhales deeply to try to calm down. “I know he’s been seeing her, and I know she probably likes it. He’s fifteen years old,” she whispers angrily. “Take his phone, or be prepared for me to come over and smash it.” She hangs up in a rush and puts her head down on the table and pretends to bang it continually.

  Aaron and I burst out laughing, and I put my hand on her back. “Do you want some more tequila, Moll?” I ask sweetly.

  “Yes . . . I do. Make it a double,” she snaps angrily.

  I stand at the bar as I look over at the table, and Aaron has his hand over his mouth in uncontrollable giggles. I drop my head to hide my goofy smile.

  This is hilarious . . . because it’s not happening to me.

  “Hey.” I smile as Robbie opens his front door.

  “Hey, you.” He smiles as he wraps me in his arms. “This is a surprise.”

  “I know. I was missing you, so I flew home this morning for the night.”

  “Come in.” He drags me into his converted garage.

  I couldn’t sleep last night. I was worried about my feelings, and I can’t stop thinking about stupid Jameson Miles. I got up and went straight to the airport and caught the flight out. I look around Robbie’s tiny studio apartment and at the empty pizza boxes and dirty glasses lying around. “What have you been doing?” I ask.

  “Nothing much.” He smiles; he lies on the bed and taps it beside him. I lie down, and he slides his hand up my top as he looks down at me.

  “Did you go to any job interviews this week?” I ask.

  “Nah, nothing suited me.”

  I frown. “Any job is a good job . . . isn’t it?” I ask hopefully.

  “I’m waiting for the right one.” He kisses me softly.

  I stare up at him as I feel his erection grow up against my leg. “Robbie, come back to New York with me. There are so many jobs there, and it would be a fresh start for you. We could discover the city together.”

  He snatches his hand away from my breast and pulls away from me. “Don’t start your fucking shit. I told you I’m not moving to New York.”

  I sit up in a rush. “What’s stopping you? You have no job here. What’s holding you back? Explain it to me.”

  “I like living here. I don’t pay rent, and my mother cooks all my food. I have a good deal here. Why would I leave?”

  “You’re twenty-five, Robbie.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” he snaps.

  “Don’t you want to support yourself and experience something different?”

  “No. I like it here.”

  “You need to grow up,” I snap, and we both stand up.

  “And you need to come back to fucking earth. The world doesn’t revolve around you.”

  “I want to live in New York.” I take his hand as I try to get through to him. “You should see New York, Robbie. You would love it there. It has this vibe like I’ve never felt anywhere else.”

  “New York is your dream, Emily, not mine. I’m never moving there.”

 
; Oh hell. We are worlds apart. “How are we supposed to be together from different sides of the country?” I ask softly.

  He shrugs. “You should have thought of that before you applied for this stupid job.”

  “It’s not a stupid job.” I plead, “Don’t you want to support me in my dream? Are you going to come and visit me at all?”

  “I told you—I don’t like cities.”

  “So what you’re saying is, if I don’t fly back to California, I won’t see you at all.”

  He shrugs and sits down and picks up his PlayStation remote.

  “Are you serious?” I snap as I begin to see red. “I flew all the way home to discuss our future, and you’re going to play fucking Fortnite.”

  He rolls his eyes and starts the game. “Quit your nagging.”

  “Quit my nagging,” I snap. “I don’t want to live in your fucking parents’ garage, Robbie.”

  “Don’t, then.”

  “What is wrong with you?” I cry in outrage. “Why do you want to waste away here? You’re twenty-five, Robbie. You need to grow up.”

  He rolls his eyes. “If you flew all the way back here to be a bitch, you needn’t have bothered.”

  Steam shoots from my ears. “If I walk out that door, Robbie, we are over,” I say.

  His eyes rise to meet mine.

  “I mean it,” I whisper. “I want you in my life, but I won’t sacrifice my happiness because you are too fucking lazy to get off your ass and make a future for yourself.”

  He clenches his jaw and goes back to his game. He begins to play.

  I watch him through tears as I hear my angry heartbeat in my ears. “Robbie, please,” I whisper. “Come with me.”

  He keeps his eyes on the screen as he begins to shoot people in his game. “Close the door on your way out.” He puts his headphones on to block me out.

  I get a lump in my throat as I finally see our relationship for what it really is.

  A sham.

  I take a long look around his room as he plays his game, and I know that this is it.

  The defining moment where I decide what I’m worth. What I want from life.

  I can’t save him . . . if he doesn’t want to be saved.

  What I want is someone who wants to grow with me, and I don’t even know what growth I want. But I can’t be stagnant here in his parents’ garage any longer.

  I don’t even know who he is anymore . . . but this isn’t me.