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Scooting up, I look around the jet. Everyone seems to be up already, besides Cash who’s still lounging on the couch. This was actually one of the better flights. I slept.
“I’m gonna take a quick shower. We almost ready to land?”
“Thirty minutes,” Sebastian says as he passes.
I turn the water on and take a quick rinse-off in case others want to use it. I rub my hands across my scruff. I need to shave but fuck it. I slather on some deodorant, brush my teeth, and open up one of the cabinets where we keep clothes. I’ve probably spent more time in this jet than anywhere else lately.
I pull on a black tee and some jeans and run my hands through my hair. Exiting, I go straight for the bar and a bottle of Jack and drop into a chair, seeing Sebastian out of the corner of my eye. He’s filming already.
“Hey,” I yell at him.
“Yeah?” He lowers the camera.
“I’m thinking of a concert outside her place. How big of a deal would that be?” He brings the camera back up.
“So, what? You want to start playing a concert in the middle of Venice Beach, California?”
“Yep.” I crack the bottle.
“Excuse me, what did you say? No fucking way, Granger. We need permits and all kinds of shit.” Rafe looks like I’ve asked him for a million dollars.
“Nah, I’m doing it. Even if it’s one song, that’s enough.” I take a swig.
“You’re gonna get thrown in jail,” he threatens as if I’m five and he’s trying to have patience with me.
“Get her flowers, show up on your knees. But you’re not serenading her.”
“We need to have you Say Anything her,” Cash says from the couch, not even removing his arm from his eyes.
“What?”
“Say Anything. The movie. John Cusack stands outside the girl’s bedroom window with a boom box playing Peter Gabriel’s ‘In Your Eyes.’” He sits up.
Ammo glances behind him at Cash. “I had no idea you were a Cusack fan.”
I can’t help but fucking laugh. Cash, of all people, watches eighties’ romantic comedies? It’s perfect. I bring the bottle to my lips.
“Refresh me, did he get the girl?”
“Of course.” He lights up a cigarette, lifting his hip to pull his phone from his back pocket.
“We’re going to jail,” I say to Ammo.
He throws his head back, laughing and bringing the Jägermeister to his lips. “It’s been too long. We need a little jail time. Make us mean again.”
Rafe brings the phone down and his eyes narrow. “You two are getting too old for jail, and it’s bad press. This is not happening.”
I grin at him. “Hey, Ace?”
“Yo?” His voice comes from somewhere behind me.
“We’re gonna need equipment,” I yell.
Nuke stumbles over and I almost tell him we have a shower. I don’t think he’s been out of those black leather pants in a week.
“Why don’t we have a bet on how many songs it takes for Granger to get Gia?” He grins as he sits down next to the other groupie who’s snorting cocaine. He holds up his finger, bends down and takes a bump, then looks at us, eyes wide as he laughs. “Or we can bet how many songs it takes before we get arrested.” I have to bite my tongue not to say, You’d better hope we don’t get arrested. Detoxing in jail is a bitch.
“Here.” Cash sets down his phone, bringing my attention back to him as he hits play. “In Your Eyes” by Peter Gabriel starts up on a YouTube video. “See, the boom box.”
I look up at him. “Yeah, man, I see the stupid boom box and a girl who can’t seem to sleep. What the hell, Cash?”
“Just watch.” He nods.
I take a breath, and the video ends with John Cusack standing alone by his car, playing the song. “That’s it?” I rub my face. “That’s what you think I should do?”
“Yeah, it’s perfect. We play ‘In Your Eyes,’ and you’ll get Gia.”
“Jesus Christ,” Ammo says.
“Cash, he didn’t get the girl.” I motion to the phone, laughing. It’s so fucking absurd, I’m tempted to do it.
“Fuck you, guys.” He sits down. “Cusack gets the girl later. You have to watch the movie, assholes.”
Leaning over for the pack of cigarettes, I look at him then Ammo, trying hard not to laugh again.
“Trust me, if you want to be romantic, this is the way,” Cash says with conviction.
“All right, any other tips?”
“Fuck off. I’m giving you great advice.” He grabs his phone.
“Why can’t I just play one of our songs?”
Cash sighs as if I’m not right in the head. “It’s the whole production, Granger. ‘In Your Eyes,’ it’s—” He searches for the word only to have Rafe interrupt him.
“You can’t be thinking of listening to him, can you?” Rafe says wide-eyed. I grin. “Jesus Christ. You’re all fucked in the head. We have no permits. This is going to be chaos,” Rafe says all this as he texts.
