The Duet(17)

The boy’s sniffing caught my attention again, and then he poked my shoulder, annoyed that I wasn’t paying him enough attention.

“Oh, yeah. I have cookies in my bag for the friend I’m meeting in Montana.”

He pursed his lips. “Oh. I’m going to Montana to ride my ponies. My parents send me away for a month every summer with my nana,” he said, pointing to the sleeping woman. “I get to do whatever I want and she doesn’t even care. It’s awesome.”

I nodded, wondering how I could extricate myself from the conversation as quickly as possible.

“I’ll probably play video games until my eyes pop out. Hey, wait, are you a singer or something? You look like this person that my sister has a poster of in her room. Uggh, I hate her. My sister turns her music up so loud and she dances around her room and I can’t hear my video games anymore.”

I had one dangerous thought about whether or not he’d fit in an overhead compartment. He’d think it was a “fun adventure” and I’d get some peace and quiet. Instead of attempting that and getting tackled by an air marshal, I decided to give myself a little space.

“I’m going to go to the bathroom really quick,” I said, holding my finger up to silence him. Luckily, there was no one in the lavatory, so I closed the door and took a deep breath, taking in my appearance in the bathroom mirror. My mascara was smudged from the nap I’d taken on my earlier flight and my cashmere sweater now sported a bright red ketchup stain from the burger I’d scarfed down during our lay-over. So much for traveling in style.

I gave myself the maximum amount of time to hang out in the bathroom before people would start to get suspicious of what I was doing in there. Apparently five minutes was too long.

“C’mon lady, hurry up!” someone yelled before they pounded on the other side of the door. I groaned and pushed off the wall, sliding the lock open just as two bodies pushed open the door and fell into the bathroom. A man and a woman going at it like rabid dogs.

“Jesus!” I said, trying to shove past them while simultaneously trying to figure out if they were fighting or having sex.

“Oh, my God. Yes, take me. Take me right now,” the woman said, pulling up her dress.

They didn’t even care that I was technically still in the tiny stall with them or that the door was wide open. The guy started working on his belt and I practically tackled them to get out. I shoved the door closed with all of my strength and then sighed.

What the hell? Is that just a normal thing now? Damn you, Fifty Shades of Grey for turning everyone into crazed horn dogs.

Fortunately, by the time I returned to my seat, the young boy was enamored with what I could only identify as a space-age Gameboy. The rest of the flight he left me alone and I even got another short nap in before our plane touched down in Bozeman, Montana at 4:00 P.M. I still had an hour drive before we arrived at Jason’s ranch out in Big Timber, Montana, but that would be in the comfort of a quiet car.

The second our plane landed and I got my first view of Montana, I was amazed by the landscape. The sheer number of mountains in every direction was not something I was used to seeing in LA. The grass and trees were blooming green in late spring, but there were still patches of brown from the cold winter.

I pushed through the airport doors, enjoying the first moment of anonymity I’d felt in years. There wasn’t a single paparazzi waiting for me outside, and the few people that gave me second glances didn’t bother coming up to talk to me. They probably thought exactly what I was thinking, “What would Brooklyn Heart be doing in the middle of Montana?” No freaking clue.

A blast of wind swept my hair back as I realized the temperature was definitely chillier than it’d been in southern California. As I pulled out a scarf, I tried to wrack my brain for details of my departure from the Montana airport. Usually when I traveled, there was a limousine waiting for me outside on the private landing strip. In Montana, I was completely on my own and I felt like I was in everyone’s way as I stood in the middle of the path, looking around for a sign with my name on it.

At a loss for what to do, I pulled my bags over to the side and sat down on the edge of the flower bed so I could pull my phone out of the front pocket of my purse. A part of me was hoping that there would be a missed call from Jason, or that maybe he’d be at the airport to pick me up, but obviously that was just wishful thinking.

I attempted to call Summer, but she didn’t answer. (What did I pay her for?!). After that, I contemplated calling Jason. Hah. That was a fleeting thought. I’d rather walk to his ranch in the middle of nowhere than bother him. God forbid he was taking an afternoon nap or something. Nope. No, thank you.