Page 39 of One More Kiss

They both agree.

"And what's taking Joanne so fucking long?" I grate out.

"Maybe she's holding a press conference without you," Slade sneers. For whatever reason, he really doesn't like Joanne. They're like oil and water.

The door closes. "Not quite, dickhead," Joanne scolds.

I sit forward. "Anything?"

She nods, standing by the table in the middle of the sitting area. "I saw her outside. The press is everywhere. She looked panicked, then she saw me and hauled ass."

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"Threw her shit in her car and peeled out of the lot. She turned right so I'm going to guess she's headed to the airport," she says.

I sigh. "There's no finding her now. I can't go walking around the airport. I'll get mobbed and we've gotta take off in like ten minutes so we can catch our flight."

"It's a private plane, dude. They're not going anywhere without us," Oscar chimes in.

"I'm aware, but you know I need sleep. The jet lag fucks me up so bad," I remind them. I don't know why flying affects me like it does, but I need a solid ten to twelve hours, minimum, of sleep after a long flight like the one we're taking to the UK. And with the concert only two days from the time we land, we have no wiggle room.

"You with the jet lag. I've never seen someone get so outta whack from flying," Oscar retorts.

"Except Jen. She pukes and pukes and pukes," Joanne adds.

"God, does she get sick," I say out loud. "I hate that she's flying home by herself."

"It's not that long of a flight, and I hope she took some of the medication her doctor prescribed," Joanne says.

"Hell no," I say louder than I mean to. "She's probably got a bunch of alcohol in her system still. If she mixes that, she can get really sick and not just puking."

"That's true," Joanne sighs. "There's no point in sitting here now. Let's get moving and we'll keep trying to call and text."

"The fucking wifi better work this time, Joanne," Slade grumbles.

She glares. "I know you think I'm as good as God, but I'm not. If we run into another storm like that one, there'll likely be no wifi. Download your fucking movies and shit and you won't have to worry about it." She straightens her blouse. "Now if you don't mind, I'm going to make sure I've gotten everything out of my room. I'll meet you down at the car by the VIP entrance."

I gulp down the last of my coffee then pull out my phone. I send Jen a text.

I hope you're okay and that the press isn't overwhelming you. We've worked up a plan, one I think you'll be cool with. If you're not, then you can tell me to fuck off… whenever you decide to talk to me. You really need to talk to me, Jen. I'm worried and getting a little pissed off. Leaving for the airport. Hope to hear from you soon. xoxo Z

I stand when the others do. Our luggage already downstairs.

"Let's get going," I tell them, walking to the door.

They follow.

"Dude," Oscar begins, "you need to stop being such a dick to Joanne. What's your problem, anyway?"

"Worry about your own shit," Slade tells him, walking ahead of us out the door.

Oscar calls out, "I don't have anything to worry about!"

"Martina!" Slade calls back.

"Motherfucker," Oscar grumbles.

Looks like we all have issues. The next six weeks are going to be long.

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