One crisis at a time.
After a final trip to the closet and double checking that he had put his electronics in his messenger bag, he zipped up his suitcase and pulled on his favorite Yankees ball cap.
"Do you want me to call for the car service?" Ella asked, waving her phone. She had plopped down on the foot of his bed, looking as ragged as he felt. Her blond curls were going a thousand directions after having run her fingers through it too many times, as she was prone to do when she was nervous or frustrated. He was going to miss her, but part of him was glad to be getting away from Ella. She was his friend, once-upon-a-time his very best friend, but since she'd put her name on the dotted line of a non-disclosure agreement with Buchanan & Associates, she'd become part of The Darling Machine. Carter had put up a wall between them after that, for which he now felt guilty. It was just another reason why he really needed a break.
A very long break.
He hadn't had one at all since his time in the Army had been cut short, then he'd had rehab for his bad knee and immediately started school. It'd been a whirlwind since he had graduated high school.
"No," said Carter. "I wouldn't put it past them to have instructed the car service to drive me to D.C., and no fucking way am I sitting in the same room with them. Not today."
"Carter. They're your parents."
"And I'm an adult. Adults don't have to talk to their parents when their parents fuck up."
She grinned. "Very adult response."
"Whatever," he said, surly.
"Be careful, Ells. Call Paul after my flight, please? I fly out in two hours so … please wait ‘til then."
"I will," Ella said on a sigh.
With that, Carter grabbed his suitcase and wheeled out, then down the elevator, and out onto 2nd Avenue, where he held his hand out to hail a cab. After depositing his suitcase in the trunk and telling the driver to head to LaGuardia, he dropped his head back against the seat and took the first deep breath he had taken since he'd woken the day before to a world gone mad.
* * *
Carter was a nervous wreck. Now that his feet were on solid ground again, he was better, but he'd breathed a sigh of relief a bit too soon in the cab, because he absolutely hated flying. On top of the fact he'd almost been late for his flight and the turbulence had been horrible, the person in the seat next to him had side-eyed him through the whole flight because she was reading one of the many articles on his parents.
Swinging Darlings
Jesus. He hadn't read any of the articles, but he got the gist. His parents had been filmed at a swinger party. He was angry for them because they had gone to an exclusive club whose clients were all big names, expecting privacy. But he was also angry at them, because who didn't know that people in their position had to be even more careful than a random CEO?
They were liberals, yes, but they purported a family values, moderate image, and nothing screamed family values like "we like to fuck other couples at parties." He couldn't help being a little bitter-okay, a lot bitter-thinking back on his parents reminding him a million times to keep it in his pants and watch out for guys who might recognize him, because he wouldn't want to get outed in a seedy tabloid.
Guess they hadn't taken their own advice.
So he'd practically run off the plane and sidled up to the first bar in the terminal he could find. Sarah had texted saying she'd just gotten into Atlanta, so he had a good half hour or more to have a quick drink and gather his checked bag.
He was grateful the news wasn't playing on the screen behind the bar as he ordered his margarita from the girl at the small Chili's that was tucked in one corner of the airport. His phone immediately started popping up several voice mails from his parents, Paul, and a couple unknowns. He didn't even want to imagine who the latter might be. Wouldn't be the first time the press got his number.
He absolutely wasn't ready to deal with his folks. They could just fucking wait. He wanted to talk to them with a cooler head than he had at the moment. They would probably be furious he'd left New York, even more so that he'd officially withdrawn from the spring semester.
After finishing his margarita and letting Ella know he'd arrived safely in Atlanta, he paid his tab and made his way to baggage claim. It wasn't much longer after he'd found his suitcase on the carousel, than he heard a squeal and turned to see Sarah Beck running toward him. He let go of the handle on his bag and scooped her up when she jumped in his arms.
"I can't believe you're here!" She hugged him tight, the smell of car air freshener and coconut shampoo enveloping him. He remembered the smell well, one that reminded him of summer vacations and barbecues with hometown friends. Sarah had been his closest friend, even after his parents up and moved them across the country to D.C. and enrolled him in a private academy.
He'd spent most summers going home to stay with her family on their small ranch outside Chattanooga. Back when things had been simpler. Back before he'd come out to his parents, before the media cared about who he dated, before he'd made a small name for himself in amateur boxing.
"Hey, Sarah," he said, laughing, fully relaxing for the first time in hours.
She backed up, looking him over like a concerned mother. "Have you eaten?"
"Does tequila count?"
"No. It doesn't," she scolded. "We're going to stop for food and gas, then we'll head home. My parents are so excited you're here. They will be home in a couple of days." She grabbed the handle on his suitcase and started pulling it along. He smiled as he jogged to catch up with her. She was in business mode. He'd seen it before when Jeremy had come home from Texas a few years back. The memories took the smile right off his face. He shook himself out of that, because he didn't want to even think about Jeremy Beck right then.
Glad he was back in Texas.
Sarah kept up a steady stream of conversation as they went to the car, asking mundane questions about his life. Bless her, she stayed as far from the subject of his parents as possible. They ended up stopping at a Cracker Barrel off the interstate, gorging themselves on hash brown casserole. Carter wouldn't lie, he'd been in hog heaven eating all those carbs.
After they got gas, Sarah was gracious enough to let him nap. He hadn't done much sleeping, but being in Sarah's company and full on fatty foods and booze, his body was content enough to let him catch a little shut eye.
Or so he'd thought. He woke to Sarah squeezing his knee. "Sorry. I hate to wake you, but I need to know where you want to go."
He rolled his head, blinking the sleep from his eyes. "What?" he asked dumbly. He looked out the window to see the familiar landscapes of his childhood hometown. "Oh, shit. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sleep that long."
"Oh, shush. It's fine. You obviously needed it." He looked over to see her deep blue eyes looking at him with fondness and sincere worry. She'd grown up a lot since he'd last seen her. She'd also gotten a little less tomboyish. She still wore her usual jeans and boots, but her thick black hair was no longer styled in a boy cut, it'd grown past her shoulders. Her full lips had a hint of pink lip gloss, but she didn't need much makeup with her flawless complexion.
"I didn't mean to make you chauffeur."
"Old habits die hard, huh, rich boy?"
Carter snorted. His family may be old money, but Sarah's family was probably just as loaded. Her father had been a big name showbiz lawyer in Nashville before he decided he'd had enough and moved his family to Chattanooga and built a horse ranch. It wasn't a large spread, but they attracted some pretty elite clients for both riding lessons and their Paso Finos.
"Would it be a bother if I stayed with you guys a few days? Just ‘til I can set up something else."
Sarah scoffed, "We'd be offended if you didn't stay. I didn't figure you'd want to be at your folks' place." Fuck no. He had no desire to stay in their McMansion. "We have a guest house and a couple of the employee cabins open. Or you're more than welcome to stay in the house. You know Daphne would love having you under foot."
Carter smiled. Sarah and Jeremy always said they had three parents: their mom, Becky, their dad, Dale, and their housekeeper, Daphne. Daphne had gone to school with Becky and Carter's mom, so the families had always been close. Daphne never had kids of her own, so she'd practically adopted Carter, Sarah, and Jeremy.