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“Oh, God, no wonder,” I say with a dry chuckle. I lead her around a seating area and then into the kitchen. Since my Instagram fame has grown, I can’t leave clubs through the front door anymore. As we walk, I pull out my phone and order a car from a service I’ve just started using.
A couple of waiters are reaching into their pockets as I make my way to the back door. I stop and reach into my pocket for my beanie
“You know … a guy wearing a ski cap in June in Los Angeles might not be the best choice if you’re trying to escape people’s notice,” she quips as I slip it on my head.
We walk into the alley, and I see the headlights of the car I called at the other end. I put an arm around Apollo, and she leans into me. Her weight feels so good and I walk slower than normal as we approach the waiting car.
“I may not be beautiful enough for you, but I was beautiful enough for the boy I let kiss me tonight,” she says in a slurred, drowsy tone.
Her words hit me with the force of a fist slamming into the center of my chest and suck the air from my lungs. And I stop us and turn her to face me.
“What did you say?” I ask, disbelief clear as day on my face. My tone daring her to repeat it.
She sees my dare and doubles it. “You heard me, Graham, and I let him touch my tits.” She says each word slowly, her expression challenging as she leers drunkenly at me. “Just ‘cause you don’t want to kiss me doesn’t mean no one else does.” She sticks her tongue out, slips out of my grasp and saunters to the cab. By the time I catch up, she’s opening the cab’s back door. I put my hand on the door and still her movement. She looks up at me. “What are you doing?” she asks and yanks the door again.
“You kissed someone tonight? In that club? While I was there?”
“Yup.” She says with a proud smile. My hand drops from the door, and she slides in. I don’t know whether to be angry or sad. I can’t fucking think. I just stand and stare at the open door and try to get a hold on my emotions. The window of the front pas
senger’s side rolls down, and the driver yells out, “You getting in?”
“Yeah, sorry.” I climb in next to her, and as soon as I shut the door, he pulls away.
She scoots all the way to the other end of the car. Kicks her shoes off and tucks her feet underneath her. And then, she proceeds to blow my mind.
She leans forward and taps the driver on the shoulder. “Excuse me, sir”
“Yes, miss?” he asks without taking his eyes off the road.
“Did you know that he’s a hero?” She points at me with mock excitement.
“Really? That’s impressive,” he says cheerily.
“He saved my life once,” she tells him.
“Ugh. Sunshine that’s enough,” I groan.
“It’s true. You did. Don’t be shy, Grahamstar.” She shakes her head and smiles at me like I’m a naughty child. But the smile doesn’t reach her eyes. Oh, shit. She’s angry. She turns back to the driver. “I mean, I helped save him, too. I’m his cape,” she says with a self-affirming nod.
“Like, Batman’s cape?” he asks, and I do a double take. Is he really engaging in this crazy conversation with Apollo?
“Yup. Just like that. What, after all, would they be without their capes?” she asks rhetorically.
“Well, Batman’s still got that batmobile,” he says.
She shrugs and concedes with a nod. “You’re right. Maybe the cape isn’t the sexiest part of their whole getup.” She turns to look at me, all pretense of her smile is gone. Her eyes are cool. “But without their capes, they can’t fly.”
Fuck.
Our driver, completely oblivious to what’s happening in the back seat says, “Well, then, Ms. Cape, I hope your hero here knows how lucky he is that he has you to give him wings.”
I groan. “Okay, can we stop talking about me like I’m not here?” I say and run my hands down my face.
“Yup, I’m done,” she says and yawns. She scoots over to me, tips her head so it rests on shoulder and says, “I’m tired. I need a nap.” Then, she shuts her eyes.
I just stare straight ahead and try to figure out how to turn back time. If everything I’ve done has lead me to this sickening moment, I want to take it back. The thought of someone else touching her lips, her body, makes me physically ill. Her little metaphor with the cape … she’s telling me I’m going to have to learn how to live without her. The thought is unbearable.
What the fuck have I done? I have no right to feel any of this. I forfeited it the minute I said yes to Nanette.
