Page 45 of Flirtatious

For a second, he looks like he wants to let me through. He always has before. Before Liam, that is. It’s clear he got to this nice old man who used to let me out whenever I wanted to leave when he sadly shakes his head and picks up the old school black phone in the guard shack.

“Just let me get clearance, miss. This will only take a second.”

Clearance. This is my fucking life. I have to get permission from the man who just ran out of my bedroom when I kissed him. Anyone who thinks the life of a successful artist is all fun and games needs to see me as a cautionary example.

I rev the engine while I consider just driving right through this gate. My mother has insurance. I have insurance on the estate. Why not?

As I fantasize about gunning it and just blowing through this gate, probably scaring poor Sylvester to death, someone knocks on the driver’s side window. I turn to see Liam staring at me with a look of horror on his face.

I could still bust through this gate. I want to.

Pressing the button to lower the window, I stare straight ahead as the glass disappears. He doesn’t say anything at first, but I still don’t turn to look at him. Check out the profile, buddy. Like it? Well, too bad. You could have had that and everything else, but you ran. Your loss.

“Planning on going somewhere, Mia?”

God, I hate the sound of his voice right now!

Still staring straight ahead at the gate blocking my path to freedom, I answer, “I don’t have to tell you or anyone else in this world where I’m going or what I’m doing. I’m of age, so get this man to open this gate or I’m going to drive right through it and probably frighten poor old Sly to death. You want that on your conscience?”

In a much softer, less taunting tone, Liam says, “I wouldn’t want that, no. But you know I can’t let you go anywhere without protection. If you want to go out, I’ll go with you.”

Tears well in my eyes at his offer. He can spend time with me as my bodyguard, but as Liam, he disappears. No thanks.

Turning to look at him, I snap, “No. Not you. One of your other guys. They’re here for a reason, so let’s put them to work. What’s the name of the one with the blond hair who smiles a lot? I liked the look of him today. Get him to come with me. Maybe I’ll have a good time for once.”

Hurt fills his eyes, but his voice when he answers me says he’s angry. Why, I have no idea. Does he think Mr. Blond and Happy is going to want to kiss me?

“No,” he answers in a clipped tone. “If you’re going, it will be me who accompanies you.”

“Whatever. One jailer is as good as the next, I guess.”

He gets in and leans out the passenger side window to give Sylvester a smile. “It’s okay. Thanks!”

As I watch the gate open, I mumble, “Thanks for making sure I can make this woman’s life even worse than it was.”

Liam asks where we’re going, but I ignore him. If all he can be is my bodyguard, then there’s no need for us to be friendly. I can be civil and ignore his presence as well as I do anyone else’s.

I tear down the streets on my way to 275. Then I’ll decide what to do after that. New Orleans does sound like fun. I’ve never been there, except for concerts, and then it’s always been in and out, leaving no time to have any fun.

“Are you going to clue me in on where we’re going, or do I get to sit here in surprise when we finally arrive somewhere?” Liam asks, but again, I ignore him.

Since I so rarely drive, I make a wrong turn and then another one, and fifteen minutes later, I’m sitting in downtown Tampa unsure how the hell to get to where I want to be. Frustrated and pretty sure Liam is having a good time watching me get more and more annoyed by the second, I pull over in front of some business with blue and green neon lights.

“This is where you wanted to come to? A check cashing place? Have a check you need cashing at eleven o’clock at night?” he asks with a chuckle, infuriating me even more.

“I just wanted to get out of that house. Away from everything. Away from you. And here I am, parked in front of some place I don’t want to be at, just like I felt when I was at the house. Even worse, you’re here to laugh at me.”

Tired of feeling bad, I let my head fall onto the steering wheel. My forehead hits it so hard the horn blows, but even that can’t stop me from crying. My tears come, the sounds of my sobbing filling the car.

I can’t do what I want. I can’t go where I want.

Worst of all, I can’t have who I want.

I can have him follow me around like some overseer ready to pounce at a moment’s notice to stop me from doing things I want to do, but that’s it. He’s too tired to kiss me, but he’s not too tired to hover over me on this joyride to nowhere.

His silence tells me he was laughing at me, and it hurts more than anything else tonight. Or maybe it’s just the last straw, but I fling the car door open and jump out, leaving it running. I’m unsure where I should go or what I should do, but I know one thing more than anything else at this moment.

I don’t want to be what he laughs at anymore tonight.

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