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“If you say so, flower child.” Jesse smirks at me as if her one liner is a barb, but she’s right, I am a flower child, nature and exploring are in my soul.
“What time is your flight?” Lucy asks.
“Nine forty-five,” I reply, plopping down on the chaise next to Scarlett. She passes me her champagne-heavy mimosa and I take a few sips. I don’t love the sweetness, but it’s a bit early to break out my favorite tequila.
Lucy jumps from my bed like a bat out of hell, landing with a loud thud I’m sure my downstairs neighbors will love. A panicked expression morphs her features as she repeatedly flicks her emerald gaze between me and her phone before finally shrieking, “You’re going to be late, Rumor! You’ll miss your flight!”
My brows tug together and I open my mouth to tell her I have plenty of time, only to be shut up by her panicked babbling. “It’s already eight, that only gives you an hour and forty-five minutes to get to LAX, through security, and onto the plane—not enough time. Dammit. I should’ve asked you when I got here.”
Shit. She’s right; I hadn’t realized it was already eight. “Okay, okay, calm your tits. I’ll call an Uber now. It’ll be fine. If I miss the flight, I’m sure there’s another one later on that I can catch. No biggie.”
Lucy scoffs at me, her face twisted with outrage, and I can’t help but chuckle. She’s so easy to rile up. Punctuality should be her middle name, I don’t think the babe has ever been late for anything in her adult life. Whereas I’m not nearly as stringent. I go with the flow and if the flow has me arriving late, well then it was meant to be.
“No need, I’ll drive you. Let’s go before Luce has a coronary. Plus, you didn’t pay for the flights, they’re a part of the prize you won, who knows what the finer details are and how missing your flight might affect them.” Jesse adds.
Shit. She’s right too. “Thanks for the ride, that’ll save me time and money. My helmet’s in the front hall closet, can you grab it for me?”
Jesse nods and excitement thrums through me like pop rocks fizzing in my veins. I love riding on the back of her Harley.
I take another sip of the mimosa and hand it back to Scarlett, pecking her cheek with a quick kiss, before standing and doing the same to Lucy. “Thanks for worrying about me, Mom. What would I do without you?” I give her an extra squeeze and she sighs into my hair, mumbling to herself about never having kids.
Grabbing my canvas backpack, I slip it over my shoulders and secure the straps over my bust and around my waist. The white eyelet lace dress I’m wearing sways against my thighs. It’s lightweight and ultra comfortable, paired with my burnt orange bikini, it’s the perfect outfit for the three hour flight to Puerto Vallarta. A thought presses into my consciousness and I pause. The feeling that I’m forgetting something washes over me. Fuck, I hate when this happens.
It takes me a few moments of going over my mental checklist but I finally figure it out. Boots. I can’t wear my sandals on the back of Jesse’s Harley. Tugging off my shoes, I hook them around the strap of my backpack and rummage through my closet to find my Doc Martens—courtesy of my dare devil bestie.
“You’re going to wear them with no socks?” Lucy asks, watching me intently. I can tell she has more comments on the top of her tongue, but she’s surprisingly refraining from sharing. Probably because I’m already running on borrowed time.
“Yeah, I hate socks. Besides, I’m only wearing them for the bike ride; I’ll have Jess take the boots back with her after she drops me off at LAX.”
“Okay, well, be safe. And call us when you land in Puerto Vallarta. And then text us the hotel name and your room number. Do you have a radio station point of contact? It might be good for us to get that person’s name and number as well.”
Lucy pulls out her phone and Scarlett snatches it out of her grasp. “Bye Rumor. Have fun and don’t do anything Jesse and I wouldn’t do.” She winks at me while dodging Lucy’s attempts to get her phone back.
I mouth ‘thank you’ and strap my camera bag over my chest. Lucy’s disgruntled mom voice follows me as I exit my room, and I can’t stop the laughter peeling out of me. Scarlett is in a world of trouble, but she took one for the team, so I can’t feel bad for her.
“Check you later babes, love you!” I shout over my shoulder and slam the door shut behind me. They’ll lock up when they leave. Time to get this show on the road. Paradise awaits me.
The drive to the airport breezes by. Before I know it, I’m waiting in the security line, using my fingers to smooth down my windblown curls and rumpled dress. Jesse got us here in two shakes, but this line is disgustingly long and I’m running out of time. Thankfully, I’m almost to the front, but I really need to look into TSA Precheck or even Global Entry when I get back from Mexico.
“Next,” shouts a lanky man dressed in a blue TSA uniform with dull eyes and flushed cheeks. He looks about as interested in doing his job, as I am in standing here for another minute.
“Go ahead, I need to find my passport.” The middle-aged woman in front of me gestures me forward as she kneels down and sets her large purse on the floor to pull everything out.
Thank you, universe.
“Thanks!” I chirp and disrobe myself of my backpack and camera bag, setting them on the security conveyor belt.
After a quick check of my bags and a scan through the x-ray machine, I’m running towards gate 64A like my feet are on fire, laughter following in my wake. I probably look like a lunatic, but I don’t give a fuck, I’m determined to make this flight. Coming around the last corner, I do a quick side step to avoid plowing into a couple walking hand in hand. “Sorry,” I yell over my shoulder, but not slowing down.
My lungs burn—I’m not used to sprinting full on. My sandals clack against the tile floor, echoing off the walls, and sounding a lot like an elephant charging. The airline attendant is closing the gate and I skid to a stop in front of her. Crap, they aren’t going to let me on. I’m too late.
“Did … I … miss … it?” I gasp, clutching my side with one hand and showing her my ticket with the other.
The attendant smirks at me—not in a cruel way, but she’s definitely amused. “Patty, hold the plane, we’ve got a straggler,” she says into her earpiece while guiding me over to the check in desk. Silence stretches, her fingers clack away at the computer keyboard. A distant expression in her hazel eyes leads me to believe she’s listening to whoever’s on the other end of her earpiece. “I know, just give me a minute to check her in and I’ll send her your way. Sixty seconds, tops.”
Clicking her tongue, she looks up at me and says, “The flight is full with the exception of one empty seat.”
“I’ll take it. Whatever it is, I don’t mind. Honestly, it’s a three hour flight, I don’t care how cramped I am, I’ll be stretching out under the sun soon enough.”
