Page 25 of The Oscar Escape
“Thank you, we’ll get going.”
The cop didn’t need to tell him twice.
The cool air hit with a harsh blast. He shivered. Aria must be freezing in nothing but her shiny costume. He’d figure out how to warm her up once they were in the clear. He looked from side to side as people flooded the street, but no one gave them a second glance. As bad as he felt about calling in the calvary, the stunt had worked. Now he had to figure out how to get back to his truck. He scanned the street and spied the main road he’d taken when he’d charged after Aria. If they headed due east, they should get back to the street where he’d parked. He snaked through the crowd and made a quick turn down an alley. Once they were in the shadows, he stopped to regroup. “I’m going to put you down. Do you think you can hold yourself up?”
“Do you think you can duck another punch?” she angry-slurred.
That had to be a good sign. If she had enough energy to threaten bodily harm, one would assume she had the ability to remain upright.
Cautiously, more for himself than for her, he eased her off his shoulder. The second her feet hit the ground, she scowled at him through chattering teeth. But her cold fury was replaced with startled panic when she wobbled atop her ridiculous heels.
“Hold on to the side of the building to keep your balance,” he instructed as he unzipped his hoodie and removed the notebook from where he’d tucked it against his chest. “I want you to put this on,” he continued, removing the garment. “It’s freezing, and you’re only wearing a shit-ton of glitter.”
“They’rese-quinsand glitter,” she slur-corrected as he dressed her like a doll. That’s what she was. A skin and bones doll.
He zipped up the hoodie. “When was the last time you ate something decent?”
She reached into the hoodie’s pocket and removed the glop of chocolate.
“Aria, no, don’t eat that.” But he couldn’t stop her. She smashed the bonbon to her lips and gobbled it up.
“There! Are you happy?” she fired back, going for haughty, which was tough to do with a cocoa mustache. “And for your information,” she continued, looking as rickety as a chocolate-obsessed newborn colt, “I can run in high heels. I can jump in high heels. I can spin, I can swim, I can punch a douche nozzle butthole with a stupid lip-syncer grin while wearing high heels.”
He adjusted the hoodie. “Who are you? The Cat in the Hat? No, I know who you are,” he said, not letting her get a word in as he scooped her into his arms. “You’re the singer who’s putting me through the goddamned ringer . . . in high heels.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Look at you, Ozzy Bear. You could be a songwriter.”
“I’ll stick to photography and videography.”
She relaxed into his embrace. “Sorry for the right hook.”
He shrugged off her apology. “You would have made Sebastian’s dad proud.”
“Obviously,” she shot back.And gird your loins.He could feel her ramping up. “Don’t you forget, Oscar Abrams Elliott, I’m still mad at you. You should have let me knock Justin into next week.”
He shook his head. “And then end up in jail? No way, Aria. Not on my watch.”
Her body tensed. He could feel her spiraling emotions like a dam about to burst.
“Forget Justin!” she blasted. “I don’t have time for his bullshit. I have to work. It’s slipping away. I’m trying so hard, and it’s slipping away. If I push a little harder, I’ll get there. I’ll go double platinum, and then they can’t write those terrible things about me anymore. Could you take me to wherever I performed tonight? I forget the name. There are so many names and places and towns. I sing and smile and do whatever I have to do to keep going.” Her words came out in a tumble, followed by a gut-wrenching bout of coughing. She wiped her wrist across her mouth and deflated into his arms. “Oscar, I can’t fail,” she whispered against his neck.
She’d spoken those exact words to him before.
“I see my truck.” He had to work to keep his voice even. How could she think damn near killing herself was success? Who was she kidding? She wasn’t in any shape to face the world. He bristled and turned his anger inward because if anyone was to blame for her state, it was him.
Sure, she was the master of putting on a happy face for her friends and family. But the signs were there. He should have intervened earlier. If he hadn’t kissed her, he wouldn’t have had to put space between them. That damned kiss had changed everything. It had left him wanting her. That wanting, that incessant craving, was what had driven him away. His weakness had kept him from helping her. His thoughts built like storm clouds piling atop each other with images of his mother and Aria and his mother and—
Dammit, he was spiraling.
But before his mind could inflict more mental torture, he stopped mid-stride. Aria pressed her fingertip to his lips. He snapped out of it and kept moving. “What are you doing?” he asked, his voice raspy as she traced a line from his chin to his collarbone.
She didn’t answer. With trembling hands, she toyed with the collar of his T-shirt. She was burning up, or maybe that was him.
And then he figured out what she wanted.
She slipped the chain over his head and put on the necklace. “I always liked the twisty gold and silver of your mom’s ring.” She held it a few inches from her face. “When I look at it, I see moonlit waves kissing golden sand. In and out. In and out. Nature’s metronome keeping time as the waters reveal a secret song. Can’t you hear it, Oscar? What a sweet escape that would be.”
Sweet Escape?
