More Than Anything by R.E. Blake Read Free Book Online Page A

way. I analyze everything to death, and now I’m wondering why he didn’t call sooner, what he’s doing to pass the time while I’m gone, whether he’s out partying at night…
    I tell myself to stop it, but now I’m in a vicious loop, replaying every word of our brief conversation, looking for clues as to how he’s really doing, what he’s really thinking.
    Which of course does me absolutely no good at all. My psychic powers are notoriously bad when it comes to him, but that doesn’t even slow me down. By the time I’m at the departure terminal, I’ve played a dozen scenarios in my head, some of which involve me blowing off the record company and flying back to New York instead of to Los Angeles, others have Derek on the next flight out…
    I get my pass and make it through security with no problems, and see that I’m in row two – business class. It’s only a short flight, but still, I’m happy I won’t be sitting next to the toilet.
    Which is one of my newly discovered phobias. I don’t want to use the toilet on the plane. I held my water all the way from New York, out of an irrational fear that something terrible would happen while I was in the bathroom. I’m reminded of it again as I sit in the departure lounge, and make a point of using the restroom before I board. I have no idea what I think will happen if I have to go on the plane, but I don’t want to find out. Visions of me trapped in the compartment as firemen cut me out battle with horrific fantasies of the plane plunging out of the sky as I scream all the way down.
    The man in the seat next to me is fifty and reading a spreadsheet, and thankfully seems as interested in me as I am in helping him interpret the long columns of numbers. Takeoff goes without a hitch, and I close my eyes and pull Melody’s hat down, lost in thoughts of Derek, whose grinning face dominates my imagination as we hurtle south at five hundred miles per hour, winging me to a town I’ve only heard about – Hollywood, land of beautiful people and megabucks. The only exposure I’ve had to L.A. is from the few times I saw a Kardashian on Melody’s TV and from the occasional movie before I left home.
    That brings me full circle to my mom and Ralph, and all the ugliness associated with them.
    I spend the rest of the flight catnapping, since the alternative is spending time in my head, where it’s ugly and dark, filled with hateful memories and secret fears I’d do anything to flush, once and for all.
    But that’s not how it works.
    Especially for the girl who’s too freaked out to use the bathroom on a plane.
    When we land, all I have is my backpack, which I carried on. I quickly make my way to the arrivals area, where a tall man in a full-on chauffeur outfit complete with black hat and suit is waiting with a Sage sign. I approach, feeling totally embarrassed, and nod at him.
    “Hey,” I say.
    “Welcome to Los Angeles, Miss Sage.” He reaches out a hand. “Is that your only bag?”
    I hand him my backpack, ratty from almost six months of heavy use, and make a mental note to step up a few grades in my luggage. I got this one on sale at Walmart when I was still living at home, and I eye it skeptically as he shoulders it. It’s pretty lowlife.
    “I travel light,” I say, and his face doesn’t change. “And it’s just Sage.”
    “Very well. The car is across the way in the parking structure. I’ll gladly pull it around if you’re willing to wait, or if you’ll accompany me…”
    “Let’s go.”
    The car’s a limo, and I wish my crummy phone took pictures because I’d take one and send it to Melody. I make another note – buy a decent phone. With a long battery life.
    So far my L.A. shopping spree is going to be leather pants, a phone, and a bag. Hardly high style, but hey.
    The driver calls Ruby to confirm that he picked me up, and then hands me his phone. I take it, and he starts the car. She greets me as though we haven’t spoken for weeks, and asks