Page 362 of Rock Me All Night
10
Light hits my face. It's bright enough that it's well past morning. I roll out of bed, expecting my feet to hit the hardwood floors of my bedroom. But that's not happening. I'm never going back there.
It's quiet on the bus. I must be alone. I brush my teeth, get dressed, find my phone.
I've got half a dozen texts from Drew—updates on where he is, the hotel's address, that kind of thing. Then a few from Tom.
Tom: Your fantasy is waiting for you.
There's a picture message attached. An iced coffee.
Tom: Bet you were expecting something else.
Tom: You gotta clean up that dirty mind, kid.
Tom: Get here soon or I'll have to find some other way to occupy my time.
There's an address. A coffee shop. I get dressed and get off the bus. Xander, the security guy, is the only person around.
He nodshello. "Good afternoon, Ms. Denton. Your brother went to someplace called Voodoo Donuts. It's a few blocks away."
"Thanks, but I'm not looking for Drew."
He smiles. "Tom is at a coffee shop around the corner. You need help finding it?"
My cheeks flush. "Yes, please."
Xander gives me directions and mimes zipping his lips in anour secretmotion. I thank him and make my way through downtown Portland.
The coffee shop is hipsterville. It's white and clean with uncomfortable looking silver chairs. Industrial metal blares through the speakers. It's on vinyl, of course.
A barista stares at me with judgment in his eyes. Thatyou know nothing about coffee, you foolthing. Ah, the same as San Francisco proper. That's one thing I won't miss about home.
Tom is sitting in the back corner, gaze glued to his phone.
What the hell does he do on that thing all day?
I ignore the too-cool-for-school employees and make my way to Tom. He greets me with a nod.
"Hey, sleeping beauty." He points to an empty glass. "Drank your coffee."
"What happened to my fantasy?"
He looks up at me with mock outrage. "Are you trying to tell me that I'm not your fantasy?"
I nod.
"Ah, I see. Too many clothes for your fantasy." He pulls his zipper to mid-stomach. "This better?"
"It's a start."
Tom laughs. "It's all you're getting. Do you have any cash left over from shopping?"
"It's in my suitcase on the bus."
He fishes his wallet from his skinny jeans and pulls out a ten. "Treat yourself to a pastry." He winks.
Tom runs his hand through my hair, mussing it. And there it is. Coffee is no longer necessary. I'm awake. Wide awake.
