Page 112 of Code Word
Party poopers.
So I began to play “Leaving on a Jet Plane,” got about halfway through it, and Luke broke through the crowd, gave an apologetic wave, and took hold of my arm and pulled me away.
“We won’t be leaving on any plane, jet or otherwise, if he doesn’t getonit,” he told the crowd.
Everyone clapped and cheered, letting us through, and yep, our plane was waiting for us.
The staff and flight attendants all grinned and ushered us onto the plane. We took our seats, and Luke shook his head at me and I laughed.
“That was so much fun,” I said.
He grinned but took a deep breath in and sighed on the exhale. “You’re crazy. That’s gonna go viral.”
I laughed. “Good. Let it. I don’t care. Music, Luke. See what it does to people? See how happy they were? God, I think we forget the purpose sometimes.”
“To make people happy?”
“To make them feel something. The business side of it, the market, the corporate heads, the board of directors, they just sucked all the joy out of it.”
“And not in a good way.”
I chuckled. “Dick-sucking jokes will never be the same.”
He snorted. “How’s your knee?”
“It’s okay,” I said, but the truth was I’d probably need some ice on it later. “Might need you to massage it later.”
Luke grinned and relaxed back in his seat, his head turned to me. He just watched me for a long beat, a serene smile on his lips. “You’re happy.”
“Fuck yes, I am. My new life with you starts today. You and music. What’s not to be happy about?”
He took out his phone and shot Jeremy a quick text.
About that offer of security . . .
I reached over and held his hand as the plane took off, destination reality.
To sayposts of me playing the piano and singing at the airport would go viral was an understatement.
Paparazzi and fans met us at the airport.
A lot of them.
“Christ,” Luke muttered, pulling his cap down.
Fuck.
As soon as we walked up the ramp and into the concourse, they began to swarm us, cameras, phones, microphones, and questions shoved in our faces. I regretted putting Luke into this situation and tried to shield him the best I could.
But then a familiar face stormed through like a bull on a mission. Steve cleared a path and ushered us through the swarm and loaded us into their waiting car.
Jeremy was behind the wheel. “Get in, dickbags.”
As soon as we were in the backseat and Steve in the passenger seat, Jeremy sped through traffic like he was driving a getaway car. Steve turned and gave us both a leveled, unimpressed stare. “Welcome home.”
Jeremy shot us a look over his shoulder, but he was grinning. “Just like old times.”
I laughed, and Luke sighed. “Thank you,” he said. “Both of you. I was about to have to feed Blake to the lions to save myself.”
