SMELLING ROSES

Chapter Twenty-Four

I should've been here hours ago. After a string of delays, cancellations, and turbulence, I finally made it to Los Angeles. I spent more time in the airport than I did in the air. Not to mention the screaming baby, disgruntled passengers, and the pilot working around a number of thunderstorms. It was like the universe was trying to warn me. Stop. Turn around. It's over. 

And if that weren't enough, the airport lost my luggage.

I breathed in the fresh air and collapsed on a nearby bench. It was going to take a lot more than deep breathing to calm my nerves.

This would be my tenth call. Wren wouldn't even answer my texts. I could recite his voicemail word from word, even the cheesy laugh at the end. I watched travelers flock to hotel shuttles and rideshares. How nice would it have been if I'd planned this through or had money? I accidentally packed my card with my lost luggage.

A man built like a rock sat beside me. He took up half the seat, sporting his shaved head, goatee, and tattoos. As I slowly worked myself up to panic, he pulled out his phone, and Wren's face popped up on his screen.

"We're sitting down with the new up-and-coming pop-star, Wren Wade." A woman dressed in white sat across from him. She leaned back into the lavish chair with notecards in her hands.

Wren arched forward, rattling his ring studded fingers on his knee.

I pushed myself into the man's side, and he went rigid. I would've moved, but my eyes were glued to his phone. Wren looked so different. He gelled his hair back, wore eyeliner, and his tattoos were on full display. He even replenished his newly infamous neon green polish.

"So, you were just signed to Vinyl on Stereo. They've made some pretty legendary albums in the past. What can we expect from yours?" the interviewer asked.

I leaned in closer. I wanted to hear him speak. Maybe I'd entered an alternate universe. Maybe this wasn't Wren.

His laugh didn't reach his eyes. As his mouth bobbed in thought, he looked over her shoulder. A moment later, he answered, "It's about a girl."

The tattooed man tilted his phone towards me. At this angle, I could see the dark circles under Wren's eyes. And how he shifted his weight as if he couldn't get comfortable.

A light giggle erupted from the interviewer. She hovered the notecards over her lip as if sharing a secret. "So you're in love?"

"No." He said it instantly. No thought or hesitation needed. "I was. But it's over now."

"So it's a breakup album?"

"Yeah. I hear they're super inspiring."

I said that when we first met. I just never thought he'd end up testing the theory or I'd be the reason for it.

The camera panned over the interviewer's face and she leaned in. "So, that means you're single?"

"Yes. Definitely." He ended the interview with a wink and the screen faded to black.

What did I expect? I'd never seen Wren so angry before that day. We said things I wasn't sure we could come back from. Maybe he was right to leave, and I was wrong to chase him. I made a joke out of his feelings and abandoned him when we needed each other the most. This wasn't a situation I could fix with an apology. The damage was irreparable.

The man cleared his throat, and I leaped away from him. "He talkin' about you or something?" he asked.

When I didn't answer, he pushed his phone into his pocket. "First rule of show biz, never trust an interview. Poor kid's probably saying all that because his manager told him to. If fans think they can sleep with you, they go nuts for anything you do." He picked up his luggage when his shuttle arrived. "Second rule, if you're crazy enough to come here, don't leave without giving it a shot."