Page 74 of Dirty Roxie
Roxie
The trip to Colombia was quick. Or at least it seemed to go faster than when I went with Ronan. My second time on a private plane and I end up going to the same place. What are the chances? Before I know it, we have Viktor’s body in the cargo hold, and we are on our way to Russia.
I’m not going to lie. When Daria said that Ronan wouldn’t be there, I was disappointed. Not that I’d planned to see him anyway. It’s just that now the possibility isn’t even there. And let’s face it, I’ll never get back to Russia again. And it’s not like Ronan will ever come back to the US. Even if he did, he wouldn’t be able to stay. So, I should let this go now before I get too attached.
I laugh at that thought because I was attached from the moment he peeked his head up over that debris pile in Andrei’s basement. I snuggle further under the blanket I grabbed when we first got on the plane. Wanting something warm to cuddle with. “Just Another Girl” by The Killers comes up in my playlist, bringing tears to my eyes.
It’s how I’d like to think Ronan feels. That he can’t get me out of his head, no matter what anyone tells him. That he should move on, but he can’t. Haunted by the one who’s not just another girl. It’s an accurate depiction of my feelings for him. And, since I can admit to myself that I have feelings, then being in Russia, even if he’s not there, will make me feel closer to him for a little bit at least.
I look around the plane, everyone else is sleeping or reading. I feel justified in not talking to anyone right now. I want to wallow for a bit in my feelings and my music. I thought it would be easier to forget about him if we were on a trip, but all I seem to do is think of him.
First in Colombia, where everything reminded me of Ronan whether or not we’d experienced it together. Now we’re on our way to Russia, where not only will I be reminded, but so many things there will be the embodiment of him. His home country, his hometown. Daria said we’ll pass his compound on our way to her family’s. Like I really need more proof of how wealthy he is.
Maybe that’s part of the problem? I’m not from that world. Of wealth and grace. I’m not refined, my manners are shit. I couldn’t tell you which was the salad fork if my life depended on it. I mean, seriously, I thought nachos were from Colombia. It’s better this way. I can remember the sex fondly, using it as fodder for future sessions with my vibrator.
Someday, maybe, I’ll meet a guy like Mack or Reed. I’ll fall in love as much as I can, and we’ll have adventures together. Travel the world for a while, settle down somewhere tropical, and live out our days enjoying one another. Don’t ask me how we get the money, or what I do for a job if I’m not working for Daria. This is my fantasy and I get to make it however I want it.
One song morphs into another as I try to force more of the fantasy so I can lose myself in it. Only to be constantly interrupted by a faceless man with hair that’s just a little too long. And just when I’ve finally lost myself to sleep, or at least what feels likejust, the flight attendant comes around to let us know we’re beginning our descent into Moscow soon.
I look out the window at all the buildings as we fly over, wondering which is the one Ronan plans to tear down. If that deal ever went through for him. And if I’ll ever get him out of my mind.
Fuck. A girl can hope, right?
