so fast, it’s impossible to find my footing. My palms catch my fall as I slam into cold cement. My head whips forward, and pain shoots up my arms. My knees crash to the hard floor, and now I’m on all fours.
My eyes squeeze shut as mortification slips through my veins. One breath… two breaths… three breaths. Noooooo. My insides are sobbing. I can’t look up, but I peel my eyes open just enough to see a pair of men’s shoes under my nose.
The music is still pulsing through the speakers, but all I can hear are the whispers. All I can feel is the shock of the crowd. And all I know is that everything I had planned for my future—my exit from modeling and my entrance into the world of acting—is now completely tarnished.
Five Star Faye
Desmond
“Sir, would you like something to drink?”
I pull my groggy eyes from the window that overlooks a field of clouds and the bright-blue sky above it. As tired as I am, I can never sleep on planes. There’s something about the altitude and not having anyone to talk to that brings every thought to the surface of my mind—the busy kind of thoughts that could benefit from a hit of a joint. Not that I’ve done that shit in years. Nowadays, the only highs I believe in are the natural sort like reaching the top of a mountain after a long hike, zooming around town in my ride, cooking a badass five-course gourmet meal from scratch, and sex.
Since I can’t have any of the above, I’ll settle for the next best thing, something that might just settle my mind when it feels impossible. With a quick glance at my watch, I confirm we’ll be in the air another four hours. I look up at the flight attendant and clear my throat. “I’ll take a Bloody Mary, thanks.”
The man in uniform immediately begins gathering the ingredients, and I shift in my seat. My eyes drift to the warm body beside me, which belongs to an attractive woman with a waiting smile. Her gaze is already on me and possibly has been for quite some time. I wouldn’t know since I’ve been lost in my own thoughts since boarding this dreadful flight. I hate plane rides. I hate sitting. I hate waiting around while the fate of my life is in someone else’s hands. All I can do is sit here, wishing to sleep through the entire thing.
“Tough morning?” the woman asks.
My eyes snap back to hers, and I cough out a laugh, remembering why I had my eyes glued to the window in the first place. The last thing I wanted when I climbed aboard this plane was to devote a single second to small talk. Then again, I hadn’t noticed her yet.
My eyes flick down, taking in her stretchy yellow suit pants and tight white tank top that calls attention to certain enhancements, before moving back up her body and landing on her bright-green eyes. If I were to venture a guess, I would say she’s an important businesswoman, maybe an executive at her organization, possibly divorced since she’s not wearing a ring. And I imagine she has little free time for anything more than a quick fuck now and then.
I smile at that last thought. My favorite type of relationship. When it comes to women, I’m definitely the type of guy who prefers a low-maintenance relationship, and I’m not afraid to admit it. No woman could ever label me as a player because my intentions are clear from the get-go. I won’t lead a woman on, and the second any sort of feelings get involved, I’m out.
I flash her a smile. “More like a rough night.”
Amusement replaces her smile as she faces forward. “Looking like you do, I imagine you have many of those.”
My brows lift at what I’m just going to assume was an advance of some kind. Clearly, she’s interested. But in what, I’m not so sure yet. Not that I’m complaining. By the way she carries herself, I would venture another guess that she’s got twenty years on me putting her in her late forties. An older woman who’s sexy, bold, and beautiful. Those are my three favorite qualities, and this spitfire has them all.
I angle my body toward her, my anxious thoughts drifting away. “It wasn’t that kind of rough night, unfortunately.”
There’s a pause before her curiosity wavers and she turns back to me. “Do tell.”
Discomfort snakes through