𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐠𝐞

M A D D I S O N

"Hello, Miss. Kingsley. May I take your bag for you?" The stewardess, Amelia asks and I shake my head, grimacing in an attempt to smile. I shouldn't be here and the guilt is eating me alive, but I'm not exiting the plane, so I can only fault myself for that.

I have nothing with me besides the leather backpack I put at my feet, the clothes on my body, and my phone. Amelia stands at the front of the plane and smiles. To me it looks painful and forced but, to anyone else, it's probably a great customer service smile.

"Amelia, could you get someone to meet me with a change of clothes in Madrid?"

"You have a bag in the cabin, and I'm sure we have anything else that you may need," She tells me.

"I have a bag in the cabin?"

"Yes. It was prepared before you arrived," She crosses her hands in front of her until a light beside her flashes and she closes the doors, sealing us and the other steward off from the tarmac. He's somewhere at the back of the plane, out of sight. I nod.

Acceptance and dread fill my body. She knew that I'd be coming. Whether there had been an emergency or not, whether he had gotten hurt or not, my mother knew I'd be coming.

The takeoff is quick and smooth, and Amelia disappears somewhere when the plane levels out, probably wherever the other guy is hiding. I make my way to the private cabin, a benefit of flying in a charter plane. The closet has clothes hanging up and a large Marc Jacobs Tote bag with a clear bag of toiletries, a tan baseball cap, and a water bottle inside. The drawer underneath the closet has two pairs of shoes, red-bottomed Louboutin heels, and crisp white Versace sneakers.

I grab one of the hangers to see a black, white, tan, and blue tracksuit in my size, and I put that on and leave my clothes in an empty drawer and lay down on the bed. I pull my phone out and stare at the screen, re-reading the messages between Aaron and I.

Time is set. 10am on the 12th

You're ready. Everything will go great.

Thank you for saying you'll be there.

Familiar faces, and all that. See you there, Pac-Man.

I tell myself that Aaron is a fighter. That he got through this once without me, and that he can do it again. I fear speaking to him, explaining this, and I've only just left. Eleven hours with nothing but my thoughts to keep me company, and the altitude and distance do nothing to make my problems feel further away.

"You were meant to wear the pants," I hear the moment I'm shielded from the flashes of cameras by the tinted windows of the hired car.

"What would you call these?" I ask, gesturing toward the track pants I have on. My mom sighs as she takes me in.

"Your hair is a mess. And I'm sure that you left the Louboutins on the plane. No matter, I'll have Ellie fetch them," She says and I roll my eyes, turning my body to face the window rather than toward her.

"They're in the tote. And you sound like a Brit," I sass. Just the way she speaks makes me want to gauge my eyes out. "You better take me straight to the hospital. I don't want to tag along to anything. I'm not even here."

"Of course, I wouldn't keep you from him. But if you think you're getting out of the gala tomorrow night, you're wrong. Your name is already on the list. All you have to do is show up," She says, inspecting her nails and promptly picking up her phone and calling to make a nail appointment for tonight.