Leaving Amarillo(44)
Her skin is glowing and her eyes are gleaming brightly under the merciless glare of the lights. Her cheeks are flushed and her hair is nearly perfect, a few loose strands falling beside her face in a way that looks effortlessly intentional.
She looks so much older and wiser than I feel. So much so that I want to ask her what the future holds. If Gavin will ever see her this way. If this trip is doomed, if the band is, if I’m going to ruin everything. But before I can, two women enter the small room practically holding each other up as their laughter bounces off the walls and into me.
They appear oblivious to my presence as each of them takes a place at the available sinks and begin touching up their makeup. I wash my hands slowly, knowing I need to brush my teeth but realizing it will be an odd thing to do in front of them.
It’s not until I hear a familiar name that I actually pay attention to what they’re saying.
“Have you seen the catch Lantram reeled in? I mean, my God. Who even cares if he can sing? I’d sign him to the label just to watch him shake his ass in my office.” The busty blonde in the black dress that fits like it was custom made for her body applies a thick layer of gloss and smacks her lips loudly together.
My stomach roils, catching on quicker than my mind does.
Dallas. She’s talking about Dallas.
“Right? No wonder she isn’t here tonight. Probably tied up. Literally.” The brunette tousles her hair back and forth then gives each of her cheeks a slight pinch. “You know she does them all. Hello, why do you think all of her most successful clients are twenty-something and male? Woman knows what she wants, I’ll give her that.”
“Can’t say I—” The blonde stops talking midsentence and glares at me. “Can we help you?”
Oh shit. I’ve been staring openly at them. My mind races; thankfully I’m good on my feet. “God, sorry. I didn’t mean to stalker stare. I was trying to figure out what kind of gloss that was. Your lips look ah-mazing. I can never find a good plumper and collagen only lasts so long, you know?”
I have no idea how long it lasts but I can tell that she does.
Her glare eases and she gives me a glassy-eyed smile, flashing pearly white veneers. “Right? It really is the best. It’s Lust for Life by Marc Jacobs. So good.” There’s enough of a slur to her words that I’m thankful her buzz is helping me out of a very awkward situation.
“Well it looks gorgeous on you. I’ll have to pick some up next time I’m out,” I say, even though I doubt they carry it at the CVS where I buy what little bit of makeup I wear.
“Here, put some on. It will look killer with that dress.” She digs it out of the clutch she’s just dropped it into and hands it to me.
“Oh. Um, okay. Thanks.” I take it, feeling extremely awkward about using a stranger’s lip gloss but knowing it will be even more awkward if I reject her offer after staring like a creeper. Oh well. You only live once.
I slide on some gloss then return it to her. They leave giggling and discussing which plastic surgeons have done the best jobs on their lips. My attention returns to my reflection and damn. Now I wish I’d never even put the stuff on because it really does make my lips looks fuller.
I use my fingertip to smear toothpaste inside my mouth instead of brushing because I am now in love with this sinfully perfect lip gloss that in a million years I’ll never be able to afford. Rinsing and spitting carefully, I roll my eyes at my own stupidity.
Somewhere in the hazy fog of three Long Island ice teas and the adrenaline rush from my encounter in the ladies’ room, I know that there is an analogy in here someplace. Gavin is kind of like this lip gloss. Even kissing him the other day changed everything. No one will ever kiss me like that again, will be able to affect me the way he did, turning everything from muted blue to a bright, blinding shade of red.
Damn him. And this designer gloss.
I check my phone while I’m walking out of the restroom and see that I now have only eight minutes to make my escape. Just as I look up from the glowing numbers, I narrowly avoid smacking straight into Afton’s chest.
“I was getting worried. You okay?”
It couldn’t have been a more perfect opening if I’d planned it. Though the genuine concern on his face makes me feel like a complete ass for lying to him. Part of me considers just telling him the truth and making him swear on his guitar not to tell my brother. But this isn’t my secret to tell—it’s Gavin’s. And that makes it a precious one that I’ll keep no matter the cost.
“Yeah, um, actually I’m not feeling so hot. Maybe I should’ve taken it easy on the spicy tuna. Would you hate me if I bailed and headed back to my hotel?”
“No, but I’d hate myself if I let you take a cab back alone. I’ll call our guy. He can come pick us up. I’m pretty much done here anyway.”
Well there’s a complication I forgot to plan for.
“Afton . . .” I look into his eyes and try to be as honest as I can without sharing Gavin’s personal business. “I kind of already texted someone to pick me up. I didn’t want to ruin your night.”
“Your brother?” There’s a hopeful tone in his voice and the guilt begins to shove my chin and shoulders back down where they belong. “Because if Dallas is coming, he should come on inside and have a drink first. There are a few people here he should probably talk to. I could introduce him around and—”