But that was future Hale’s problem. I hadn't heard from all the programs yet–and there were some that hadn’t closed yet that Icould apply for. People did get in off waitlists.
I’d think of something. Also, I had a whole fucking semester before graduation. If not? I’d just get a job working with my sister and figure my shit out.
After all, it’s not like I had anyone to be responsible for but myself.
Chapter Four
Carlos
The car dropped us off at the private wing of the airport–the same one the Knights had their plane at. The driver helped us get our snowboards and suitcases. Fatigue weighed me down, but fuck it, I could nap on the plane.
Hale, who once again wore a cowboy hat and boots, along with jeans, a band tee, and a snowboarding jacket, looked around at the hangers and jets.
“We’re taking one of these planes?” Hale blinked.
“We are. It’s an ultra-jet, too. Super fast. The festival is providing it. That’s why the flight time is weird. It’s what worked.” I looked around to see if anyone was here yet.
While Dusty was doing really well for himself, between his music and his novelty boxer shorts companyBox Munch,he wasn’t private-plane rich. Neither was his family.
“Hey, Carlos!” Kace, Dusty’s assistant, waved at me. His husband, Tyrell, who was Dusty’s choreographer, stylist, and therapist was with him.
“Hey. Kace, Tyrell, this is Hale,” I introduced. We’d all gone to the same performing arts high school. Dusty and my ex had gonethere, too.
“This all goes?” Kace asked, looking at our stuff.
“Yes, but please be careful with my suitcase? There’s precious cargo in it.” Two dozen of my mamá’s tamales so we’d have them for Christmas. Also, the makings for champurrado. Not to mention everyone’s presents.
“Will do.” He nodded.
“Lalo!” Dusty pulled up in a golf cart. He had a goatee that was almost a beard and wore a Nordic print hat with ear flaps and puffballs on strings over his short, light brown hair. His metal glasses slid down his nose. Even though it was December, he was shirtless.
“Dusty!” I hopped in.
“Hale-i-o-burrito, don’t sit on the pan dulces.” Dusty waved and started to drive.
Hale put the box on his lap. “They’re warm.”
“Oooh, did your amá make them?” I asked. His amá was to pan dulces what my mamá was to tamales.
“Yep.” Dusty grinned and we drove off toward where the plane was. “Can you believe I’m headlining fucking Winter-Fest?”
We’d literally started recording his songs in his shower back in high school. I’d been a roadie for him many times over the years. The fact that he’d exploded in popularity made me so happy. His new album was smashing it.
“I’m proud of you. You’ve worked hard. Fuck, maybe you’ll get to do Feral Ratville next.” That was the biggest of the summer European warehouse music festivals.
“That would be incredible,” Dusty agreed.
“Thank you so much for inviting me,” Hale said as we drove.
“Your race blew my mind. We’re going to have so much fun,” Dusty replied excitedly.
“I’m up for any mayhem you have planned,” Hale noted.
We stopped in front of a plane. It wasn’t as big as the team jet theKnights had, but it also wasn’t tiny. I waved to Dusty’s road crew. I knew most of them, too.
“Where’s your girl?” Dusty smirked, looking around. He told me to bring Fiona and Saoirse because he wanted to meet them.
Dusty and Hale were two of the few people who knew about them. Though I’m sure my friend and teammate Dimitri suspected, because he missed nothing.
