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“Of course I do. I wouldn’t have been able to go on all those fucking trips and luxury vacations if I didn’t know where it damn well was.” What a stupid question. He doesn’t seem stupid. Why asks such stupid things?
“Good. Bring it tonight.” He backs up towards the door, no more explanation than that, and starts to leave. “Have you slept?”
“No.”
He nods and keeps walking, apparently no care if I have or not. I watch him walk for a few moments, checking out his back view as he goes towards the elevator at the end of the hall. No words. No talk or conversation. Just me looking at him as he waits for the elevator. Handsome. And interesting. And, regardless of his odd way of conversing about things, real. But then the doors slide open and he walks in to it without turning around, leaving me with nothing but this corridor and the sad reality of contempt I’m in.
I slam the door and triple lock it, my back resting on it. I’m done with that out there. And this in here. I gulp wine back and look at my handiwork again, happy with the portrayal of realism. Sleep? I haven’t slept since his place. When was that? Yesterday? No, the day before. Maybe. I don’t know.
Another swig of my wine and I walk circles, part of me wondering if I do need sleep. Perhaps I do. Maybe this real will fuck off if I’ve slept. He’s right. I should go sleep. The bed is clear now. I’ve tossed Rick’s stuff, cleared it out. It’s my space again now.
Yes, sleep.
My wine gets drained and I walk slowly, letting the glass fall absentmindedly from my grasp to the floor as I go. I’ll sleep until later, and then I’ll get ready for Gray. Where is my passport? Don’t know. I don’t know much at the moment. Maybe I should. I cross the room and pick up my phone before heading for the bedroom, swiping the notifications of missed calls away. It’s real that I want, and that means I need to know more about the only real I have in my life at the moment.
The profile details of Gray Rothburg fills the screen the moment I’ve inputted my search, pages of him brought up. Mostly Annox based. I settle back into the sheets and briefly look through them, the words blurring under my gaze. There’s nothing but reams of information about his work history. It’s all carefully crafted. Professional. Deals and amalgamations with other companies, or details of companies he’s taken over. Nothing personal. Not shots of family or life other than work.
My mind reals, memories of Rick talking about the same situations or words I’m witnessing on screen filtering in, and I let the phone fall from my grip. I don’t want that. I want the Gray behind those words. The one that laughed with me last night when I talked of dirty things and men fucking. The Gray on the screen isn’t him. That’s all a lie to me.
My Gray smells of heat and hope, of reality.
It’s all I care about.
Chapter 12
Gray
Achuckle leaves me as I get into the car and feel it pull around to the front of the building. I shouldn’t be chuckling about anything, but I am. She was so dismissive of everything earlier, me included. It was nice to be around, unusual for me. So comfortable in her silence. Aggressive with it. I’m not even sure if she’ll be where I asked her to be at ten pm. She might change her mind.
Tom pulls the car to a stop and I wait as he gets out and hovers by the side of it. Ten minutes pass as I keep looking at my watch. Still, we wait. She’ll come when she’s ready. Nothing is going to make her do a thing she doesn’t want to adhere to. I’m being reckless really. She’s not meant for this. She’ll be ill mannered, contempt filled, and exhaustive for me to deal with, but I offered her a distraction, maybe offered myself one at the same time. A few days. That’s all. No sleep. No thought other than the place we’re in, and then I’ll bring her home so she can do whatever else she wants to do with her life.
The soft click on the door makes me smile sadly, part of me wishing she didn’t show up at all. I wipe it from my face before she lands fully in the car, and keep my face forward and away from looking at her. I’ll look when I’m ready to acknowledge her, and then I’ll look as much as I want. At the moment I’m compartmentalising myself the same way I used to, trying to find the space in my head that makes this alright to be involved in. It’s not. I know it isn’t. But I have needs. They’re needs I can’t get in any other way. The distraction will prove as useful as it used to, perhaps give me some time to analyse and scrutinize the next mix.
“Gray,” she says, as Tom gets in the front.
“Mrs Tanner.”
“Are you going to consistently call me that? I don’t like it much anymore.”
“What would you like to be called?”
“It depends where we’re going.”
The car starts to pull away and I frown at the thought of the place we’re going, unsure what she’ll make of it, or what I’ll make of it with her in it.
“Why does it depend on where we’re going?”
“Will anyone know me?” she asks, turning to look at me.
“No. You don’t have enough money for anyone to know you.”
“So I can be anyone?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll let you know then. I need to think about it.”
I nod and look out into traffic, unsure why she would feel the need to call herself anything other than her name, but I suppose she might want anonymity. A new creation of life maybe. My lips graze a smile again, wondering what she’ll be like where we’re going. I can’t get a gage on who she is at the moment. Grief, annoyance, near drunken dismissal of everything around her, and then those hints of vulnerability under the bravado. If it is bravado. Perhaps she’ll fall into self-indulgence and not care for what she becomes. Either way, I don’t care really. She’ll be a diversion for me as much as the venue is for her. Nothing more than that.
