I turn, the suitcase in one hand, the other curled into a tight fist because I know this is Jamison, and I’ll have no problem knocking him on his ass if for nothing else than the way he talked to her.
“Man, I don’t know her, and I sure as fuck don’t know you. I’m here to get her things and get her on her way. You can either let me pass, not pulling me into your drama or bullshit, or I’m putting you on your ass and still leaving.”
He stares at me, puffing himself up like a wild animal trying to look badder than he really is. “You wouldn’t hit me,” he sneers, tipping up his chin like some rich scumbag who thinks his shit doesn’t stink.
“You inviting my fist to that man-made chin?” I ask, taking a step forward.
He steps back.
He’s a pretty boy, for sure. Totally Californian with his wavy blond surfer hair and decked out in a dress shirt with the first two buttons undone like he’s sexier that way. He’s skinny, and I’m pretty damn sure one square, well-placed hit to his jaw and he’d be kissing the carpet.
“I’ll sue you,” he taunts.
“Ahh, you’re a big man,” I reply, moving toward him with the pink suitcase, “who hides behind lawyers. Full of talk, but a complete nothing except a complete pussy.”
With every step I take toward him, he takes one back. “She’s trash, anyway. You can have her.”
“Listen, man. She’s not mine. I’m not having her. I’m here to get her shit so she can be done with you. She’s severing ties. Ending shit. You need to forget her number and pretend she never existed.”
He tips that chin again, looking like he’s begging me to strike him. “She’ll come back. She always does.”
It takes everything in me not to pop him for fun. “I heard about your issue.” I dip my gaze to his crotch, letting him know I know how small he is.
“Fuck off. I don’t have an issue.”
“Whatever, man. I got shit to do. You either move out of the doorway, or I move you myself. The carpet could use a new accessory,” I say, making my way toward him as he blocks the main hallway.
Before I’m within arm’s reach, he steps to the side. “She deserves someone classless like you. Trash begets trash.”
I stop, releasing the pink suitcase, and step up to him, backing him into the wall so he has nowhere to go. My face is inches from his, our eyes locked. “I don’t know how shit works where you’re from, but this is not how shit works here. You talk shit about me, I let that slide. I’m a man. I can take it, especially from someone like you. But when you talk about a woman, one you were supposedly in love with, and call her trash, hurling all kinds of baseless insults at her when she isn’t here to defend herself, I’m going to make damn sure it doesn’t slide.”
“Go ahead.” He eggs me on, eyes narrowed, body frozen. “Hit me.”
I lurch forward like I’m going to land a shot.
He flinches, screaming like a girl, covering his face.
The laugh that comes out of my mouth echoes through the hallway. What a freaking pansy-ass. I didn’t even have to lay a punch for him to almost piss himself.
“Jo’s gone, and so am I. But make no mistake, next time, I’m laying you out. Lawyers won’t protect you from my fist.”
“Redneck,” he yells as I walk away, fucking stupid pink suitcase trailing behind me.
“Small-dicked bastard,” I reply into the emptiness of the hallway, not even bothering to look back in his direction.
I get more than a few looks as I walk through the hotel lobby with the pink suitcase, but no one says shit to me about it because they know better. Once outside, I retract the handle, carrying the suitcase to make the trip quicker, not wanting any more attention than necessary.
“Lookin’ hot, papi,” some asshole yells out the car window as he sits at the light.
He gets my middle finger but nothing else. My truck and Jo are where I left them. She has her eyes closed, head tipped back, looking like she is waiting for me to bring her an ice cream cone and not her belongings from her weak-ass excuse of a now ex-boyfriend.
Her head tips forward and her eyes pop open as I slide back into the truck cab. “You did it?” she asks, staring at me in disbelief. “He just let you leave?”
“Babe.” I gawk at her, wondering what alternate reality she’s living in. “He’s a weak man. And I’m being kind calling that sorry excuse for a human being part of the male population.”
“I used to think he was a good person,” she admits.
“You need to find new people if you think he’s good. He’s a bully and a pussy with the way he throws around his lawyer. No real man says that shit. And no real man cheats on his girl when his girl is as pretty as you are unless he’s a shit person too.”
“Well…I…” She goes silent, staring at me as I stare at her.
“You’re welcome,” I tell her, ending the awkward pause. “Let’s get you back to your car, and you can be on your way.”
“On my way?” she asks, blinking.
“Home or wherever the fuck you’re headed.”
“I was here for a vacation. I needed an escape.”
“Well, Florida’s a big state. Lots of places to run away to if you’re looking not to be found.”
“Yeah,” she mutters.
“Ready?”
She nods, not saying anything else as I put the truck in reverse, ready to get out of the city.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, seeing her twist her fingers in her lap.
“Nothing,” she snaps.
I stop the truck, letting it idle. “Talk to me.”
“I don’t have anywhere to go. You don’t understand.”
“Enlighten me.”
“Drive, and I’ll talk,” she tells me, turning toward the window on her side of the truck, staring at the world passing by.
I finish pulling out, easing into the endless traffic because it’s tourist season and the roads to get to the beach are always full. “I’m driving.”
“There’s nowhere for me to go without being tracked. I know you live a life where you move freely, but I don’t. I never have. I’m tracked by my credit cards and social media posts, always followed by photographers or people looking for something from me. Do you know what that’s like?”
“Can’t say that I do.”
“I only need a few days to get my head together before I face the cameras and my family.”
I don’t know what kind of crazy world she lives in, but it’s not anything I’ve ever experienced or am even remotely familiar with. “So, you’re saying you’re someone to people?”
“My parents are, and by default, so am I.”
“Must suck.”
“You have no idea.”
“Saw the photographers waiting for you in the hotel.”
She turns her head toward me, sadness in her eyes. “They’re always waiting for me.”
I don’t know why I’m about to say what I’m about to say, but I say it anyway. “You need an escape?” I ask her.
“I do. I need to disappear.”