MELONY
Hollis: Are you going to be rooting for me this week?
He is relentless. Every day he texts me, and every day, I respond. The question is, why do I respond? Am I really that lonely that I need to engage in his idiotic texts?
No, I’m not lonely. Well, I might be lonely but I’m also . . . curious.
Melony: Who’s this?
Maybe I’m a little curious and also very much interested in bruising the man’s cocky ego. He’s convinced we are going to be married one day. Why he thinks that, I have no clue.
My phone dings back as I sit on a very uncomfortable airport chair, waiting for my plane to board. I’m on my way to Omaha for the Olympic Swimming Trials because production wants to capture the event for the show, which means, I’m flying in as well. I would be more excited if I didn’t have to spend the next couple days with a random person I don’t know. Yes, Bellini doesn’t like to spend her money on other people, which is why I’ll be sharing a room with a stranger.
Fantastic.
Trying to tamp down my bad mood, I read my waiting text message.
Hollis: Baby, don’t act like you don’t have my number memorized.
Such a cocky bastard. Time to play with him.
Melony: Oh, sorry about that, Blake. I must have accidentally deleted your number. I had such a great time last night. We should do it again.
I smile to myself as the little dots indicating he’s texting back show up.
Hollis: Nice try, sticky buns. I saw you walking into your complex last night wearing yoga pants, an oversized shirt, and carrying a carton of ice cream in one hand. You were a one-woman show last night.
Damn him. And yes, like every other night, I was a one-woman show.
“Attention all passengers traveling to Omaha on flight two-zero-nine. We will be boarding in ten minutes. It will be a full flight so we would appreciate some passengers to check their bags. Please see the desk for details.”
One thing I don’t mess around with; carrying luggage. I take the risk of it being lost rather than having to lug it around everywhere. Plus, it’s another way I force Bellini to spend money on something other than herself. It’s the little things in life.
Feeling like I want to play with fire a little, I text Hollis back.
Melony: It was actually a two-finger show last night.
Pleased with my response, I take a sip of my mocha latte just as I feel my phone vibrate in my hand. Looking at the called ID, I see Hollis’s name pop up. I’ve never talked to him on the phone. Ever.
Should I answer? I start to get nervous of the possibility of answering the call. There is so much wittiness I can put out there, and it’s much easier through text.
Curiosity wins out and I answer.
I mentally put on my armor before I say, “What can I do for you, Mr. Knightly?”
“I have a whole list of things you can do for me,” his sexy voice rings through the phone. If this man wasn’t built to be monogamous, I would give him a go in bed. Hell, I would strip down at his front door and beg for a one-night stand. But I know that’s not his way of thinking. That was quite obvious after our little pool talk.
“I’m sure you do. Let me guess, does it include things like sticking your P in my V?”
“P in your V?” He laughs and the sounds bounces around my head, making me feel a little weak in the knees despite sitting down. “Are you in front a bunch of kids, or something?”
“No, I’m at the airport,” I answer, scanning the people around me to see if they’re paying attention.
Luckily everyone is immersed in their own happenings, not paying my conversation one bit of attention, but I will still keep it PG, just in case.
“Ah, I see. You don’t want people to hear you talk dirty to me?”
“That would never happen, at any point in time.” I lean back in my chair, oddly enjoying the conversation that’s eating up my time before boarding.
“It’s funny how delusional you are,” he says with confidence. “Believe me, sugar lips, I will have you talking dirty to me before you know it.”
I scoff at him. “Why? Is that one of the things on your list?”
“No.” He pauses and his voice turns sultrier, more intense, which only makes crazy things happen in my stomach. “The list of things I would love for you to do for me don’t include anything sexual because that’s a given.”
This makes me laugh sarcastically. “Oh, okay. So tell me, what’s on this list of yours?” This I just have to hear.
“You really want to know?”
“Stop delaying and lay out your list, that’s unless your list is actually all sexual and you’re trying to backtrack now.”
“One thing you should know about me, Melony. I never lie.” He’s so damn serious in the way he speaks of honesty it makes me gulp. Straight-up gulp like some scared cartoon character.
“Okay,” I answer, not really sure how to answer to his statement. “Then what’s on your list?”
“Everything I want to do with you.”
“Give me some examples.”
“Easy.” His voice seems light again, almost playful. “Let’s see, the first is obvious. I would take you on a date where I would be sure to ask you a million questions so I can get to know you better. I would ask you to go on a walk with me just so I could hold your hand. I would want you to drive my car just because I think that’s hot, letting your girl drive your wheels. I would want you to curl up into my chest as we sit in the sand and watch the moonlit waves roll in. I would want to cuddle the fuck out of you while we lounge on my couch and watch a movie. I would also like to hold your hand then, too. Hmm, I would like to go for a hike, and hold your hand, go grocery shopping together where we would buy ingredients to make a meal for a date, go to the wine country just so I can take a picture of you in the vineyards, a bright smile on that fucking gorgeous face of yours and the sun beaming down on your soft-as-hell hair.”
My heart is beating out of my chest, ready to combust on the spot. He speaks of us as if we’re a real couple, as if I would be the best thing that’s ever happened to him. Again I have to ask why? Why me? He’s Hollis Knightly.
Too bad I know it’s not the same.
Men don’t stick around. They might have the best of intentions at first, but in the end, they always leave.
I don’t know what to say. He paints a perfect picture that would never hold up in my reality. Because in my reality, men don’t treat women like that; they don’t cherish them, they don’t worship them. Instead, they make promises they never keep, disappointing you year after year.
“You still there, baby?” Hollis asks.
“Yeah.” I clear my throat and raise my armor back into its place. He will not penetrate my shield. “That’s a nice list and all, Hollis, but it isn’t real.”
“It isn’t,” he answers, making my heart fall. Don’t make me explain why. I’m a freaking hot mess right now. “It isn’t real until you finally say yes to taking you out.”
Oh . . .
I should have known that was going to be his answer. It would be nice to call Hollis on it and actually see if he would commit to everything he said but that would be giving in and setting everyone up for failure.
“Not going to happen.”
“How did I know you were going to say that?”
“Maybe my rejection is starting to click inside that cocky, smart-ass head of yours.”
He chuckles. “Your rejection is nothing but a ‘maybe’ in my mind. You have no clue how much hope I have for us. It’s consuming, bologna breasts.”
“Oh my God!” I laugh at his nickname. “Don’t call me bologna breasts.” I say the last part a little loud thanks to my outrage, catching the attention of a middle-aged man sitting next to me who then proceeds to glance down at my shirt. Scowling, I say, “Please roam your eyes somewhere else.”
Stunned, the man quickly gathers his items and gets in the boarding lines.
“What?” Hollis asks, confused.
“Nothing, some perv was just staring at my breasts.”
“I’m going to fucking murder him,” Hollis quickly responds. “Put him on the phone. I need his name, address, and preferably social security number.”
“I’m not going to put him on the phone.” I chuckle.
“Melony, move toward the creep and hand him the phone. I’ll be quick.”
“No.”
“Melony!” Even though his voice is rising, I can tell he’s also joking around.
“Not going to happen.”
He sighs into the phone. “Fine, you’ve left me no choice.”
“Oh no, what are you going to do?” I hate that I’m smiling. Damn it, I should have hung up five minutes ago. Well, if I’m wishing to go back in time, I shouldn’t have answered the phone, or any of his text messages since he’s scored my number from Reese who showed zero regret in his misleading request.
Hollis’s playful voice pipes up. “You’ve left me no choice. You’re grounded. Now come out to Indianapolis so I can spank your perfect ass.”
And there he is, the Hollis I’ve grown to know.
“Can’t, off to Omaha.”
“But you would if you weren’t headed to Omaha, right?” There is teasing hope in his voice.
“Not so much.”
“Ouch, that hurts, turd blossom.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re not going to win friends with that nickname.”
He chuckles. “Oh sorry. You don’t like the word turd, do you?”
“Not so much.”
“Gotcha, okay, sorry about that shit blossom.”
I hate that I laugh. “So not better.”
“It got me to hear that gorgeous laugh of yours though, so it’s a win for me.” He pauses for a second and then says, “Hey, I do need to talk to you about something serious.” From his tone, I sit up in my seat. What could he possibly ask me?
“Okay, what’s up?”
He takes a deep breath and says, “I’ve been having an issue lately that I need to get some help on.”
“Let me stop you right there. Is this going to be where you say something like your balls are blue and you need someone to assist you with them?”
“No, but my balls are blue, thanks to you.”
“Hey, I’m not holding you back. Have fun.” Those words feel sour coming off my tongue. Yes, I don’t want a relationship with Hollis, but the thought of him having that with another woman doesn’t make me feel all that great either. What the hell, Mel?
“I’m holding out,” he says with such conviction that I actually wonder if he will win out. “But that’s not what I’m talking about. I really need help. It’s kind of embarrassing to talk about.”
Okay, now he really has my interest.
Not wanting to show too much interest, I say, “Well, you better spit it out because my plane has started boarding.”
“Okay, but promise you won’t make fun of me?”
“I make no promises but I’ll give it a try.” I gather my items around me, sling my oversized bag on my shoulder, and get in line.
“I’ve been having a difficult time with the cowlick on the back of my head. It curls counterclockwise and I’m a man of tradition, someone who would appreciate their cowlick to obey social standards and curl in a clockwise motion. As you can tell, this is just devastating to me so I’m going to have to ask you to come out here instead of going to Omaha and tend to my cowlick. If your breasts end up in my mouth during that time, I won’t be mad.”
I should have known. Here I thought he was actually going to talk about something serious.
“I’m hanging up now.”
“So should I expect you later tonight then?”
“Goodbye, Hollis.”
***
Well, this is awkward.
The middle-aged-boob-staring man is behind me, yelling into my ear as to why I’m not moving through the aisle. How I got in front of him, I have no clue, and I have an elderly lady blocking my access to my seat who I’m pretty sure is dead. She has to be dead. There is no other explanation as to why she’s not moving after every poke I make to her wrinkly sac of a body.
I speak a little louder. “Ma’am, I’m in the window seat.” The girl sitting next to the dead woman looks familiar as she gives me a questioning look, as if to say, “What the hell do we do?”
“Ma’am, are you okay?” The girl pokes her, but nothing. We exchange an oh shit look.
This old person is one-hundred percent dead. Call the coroner, we have a fresh one.
Feeling slightly skeeved from a fresh dead person sitting in front of me, I say, “Umm, I think I’ll get a flight attendant.”
Thankfully the girl helping me out says, “I’ll ring the call button.”
The line of people behind me start to get a little rowdy no thanks to the heavy-breathing pervert behind me.
“What is the hold up?” he shouts. How is his shouting helpful? It’s not, just like honking a horn in traffic won’t get you anywhere, unless you think your horn has magical god-like powers and will part LA traffic like the Red Sea.
Hint: your horn does not possess such powers.
“Someone won’t take their seat,” another passenger offers, stirring the pot with the perv.
Just great. This is all I need. I look around for help but find nothing.
The girl sitting next to postmortem Molly suggests, “Maybe you can climb over her?” She shrugs. It is a good option. I’m limber.
“Let me see. Can you take my bag?”
“Sure.” She grabs my purse and sets it on my seat then offers her hand for help. I’m mid-step over the elderly woman when the flight attendant makes her way toward us.
“Is everything okay?”
Quickly I retreat my foot, nervous that I’ve been caught doing something wrong and I say, “Um, this woman is not moving. We’re not sure if she’s responding.”
“Oh dear.” The flight attendant takes a closer look as does everyone around us. I seriously don’t see any movement in the woman’s body “Have you spoken to her?”
“We’ve asked her to move,” the girl whispers. “But she’s unresponsive.”
Panic crosses the flight attendant’s face for a brief moment before she starts with protocol for such a situation. I couldn’t imagine having to go through training for such a thing. “Okay, let me get the paramedics.”
Everyone holds their breath as the flight attendant turns to make her way to the back just as the old lady flops her hands in the air. A brief terrifying thought of rigor mortis flies through my head just before the woman starts to speak. “Oh, for Pete’s sake,” she says, springing up from her seat like a spry chicken, scaring the crap out of all of us. “Can’t an old lady find out more about this one’s pierced nipples from her boyfriend? Her texts were just starting to get good.”
Pierced nipples? I raise an eyebrow at the girl in the middle seat who’s blushing feverishly.
After a quick check from the flight attendant, I’m situated in my seat, replaying the last few minutes in my head. What the hell just happened? This old lady was faking her own death so she could read the girl with the pierced nipple’s text messages.
Damn, I have to admit it, well played.
“She seems like a fun companion,” I mutter out the side of her mouth.
“Could be worse,” the girl whispers back. “Could be a smelly dude with flaky skin.”
Gah, I think I just threw up in my mouth. “So gross.” I look out the window and say, “Here I am, sitting on a commercial flight when my boss is taking a private jet to Omaha. How is that fair?”
“Your boss is taking a private jet to Omaha? So is mine.” I thought so. I’m pretty sure I know this girl.
“Why does this feel like a Parent Trap moment?” I laugh. “Should we both pull up a picture of our boss and show one another on the count of three?”
“Could be a magical moment. Let’s do it.”
I know the exact picture I’m going to share. It’s one I save for occasions where I have to tell people who I work for. The minute they see the picture, they understand completely.
“Three, two, one . . .”
Flipping our phones to each other, we both display a picture of Bellini Chambers.
Whereas the girl’s picture is of Bellini holding her beloved Pope Francis, mine is of Bellini, trap wide open clearly screaming something horrific. It’s my favorite picture of all time because it truly shows how ugly Bellini really is.
Laughing, we both grab each other’s phones. I knew this girl worked for Bellini. “Man, I wish I pulled up this picture. Where did you find it?”
“I always have it in my photo album, so when people ask who I work for, I can just show them the picture and instantly receive their condolences. It’s easier that way.” I hold out her hand. “I’m Melony, also known as Melon by Satan’s Mistress. I’m her hair and makeup artist.”
She takes her hand in mine. “Paisley, aka Mauve, the assistant.”
“Oh, it’s great to finally meet you.” It’s good to put a name to the face. I’m about to ask her a question when her phone beeps in my hand. On instinct, I glance down. “Oh, you got a text from Reese . . .”
My voice trails off. I can feel my eyes widen when the message registers in my head. From the look on Paisley’s face, she knows I saw something I probably shouldn’t have.
Reese: I can’t wait to fuck you once you get here.
A little embarrassed from snooping, we quickly trade our phones back. “I didn’t mean to look. I’m sorry.”
It didn’t take long after being around Bellini and Reese together that their relationship was a fake one. There is zero love between them, actually more hate than anything. Man, seeing Reese trying to hold back his opinions about Bellini is actually kind of funny. I knew they weren’t together but what I didn’t know was how Reese had a little side relationship. Risky, very risky, but he deserves something good in his life, especially after he signed on to his bullshit reality show.
Sensing Paisley starting to freak out by the way she’s fumbling with her phone and breathing so heavily she might fog up the plane windows, I rest my hand on hers and reassuringly say, “It’s okay.”
“What?”
“I won’t say anything. Almost everyone in production knows their relationship is fake, so you don’t have to worry about me saying a word. Good for Reese actually. You’re hot.”
She laughs nervously, still a little unsure about my loyalty. I don’t blame her, she just met me. “I would say it’s not who you think it is, but it’s a little obvious, isn’t it?” She cringes from being caught.
I don’t hold back on her. “Pretty much. The Emoji kind of clued me in.”
“I’m so embarrassed. No one knows. It’s still new, like really new.”
“Don’t worry.” I smile, trying to show her I’m on her side. “I’m friends with Reese; clearly I am not friends with Bellini. Trust me, your secret is safe with me.”
She still eyes me skeptically. “Will this make you feel better?” I type out a text to Reese and talk out loud at the same time. “Guess who I’m sitting next to on the plane right now? I will give you one guess: someone who has your name listed in their phone as Reese *swim Emoji*.” I turn to Paisley and say, “Just watch.”
Within seconds, a text appears and we read it together. Reese is good like that.
Reese: Hmm, one guess? I’m going to have to go with my girl, Paisley. Black hair, fantastic rack, eyes that will cut you in half with their beauty.
Ugh, he’s so sweet. People talk about him being such a bad boy but he really isn’t. He isn’t at all. I learned that quickly while working closely with him. I text him back.
Melony: Ding, ding, ding. You’re a winner.
Reese: What’s my prize? Please tell me it’s her.
Melony: That’s not for me to decide.
Satisfied, I say, “See, told you.”
What I thought was going to be reassurance only causes her to panic some more. Her eyes are wild when she asks, “What, is he telling everyone?”
I’m about to answer when she gets a text message. Being the nosey person I am, I see it’s from Reese who most likely is reassuring her. As she’s typing away on her phone, I receive a message from Reese.
Reese: You and Hollis are the only ones who know.
Hollis knows? I’m impressed. He never said one thing to me. Not that we tell each other our secrets, but even when all three of us were together, he acted as though Bellini and he were dating. Well done, Hollis.
I send Reese a text back.
Melony: Your secret is safe with me. Congrats, she’s hot.
Reese: I fucking know it.
Smiling to myself, I decide to text Hollis.
Melony: I’m impressed.
His response is immediate.
Hollis: And I haven’t even sent you a dick pic yet. Things are on the up and up for me.
Melony: You’re stupid. I’m talking about you being able to keep Reese and Paisley a secret.
Hollis: I have no idea what you’re talking about.
Melony: Go ahead, text Reese.
Hollis: Hold please . . .
God, he’s so ridiculous. Turning my attention away from my phone and back to Paisley, I see that she’s on the verge of a panic attack. Oh, this is not good.
“Hey, are you okay?”
“I feel like,” she waves a hand in front of my face, “I can’t . . .” she doesn’t finish her sentence because her phone starts to ring. It’s Reese.
Knowing she needs him to calm her down, I encourage her. “Answer it.”
Worry in her eyes, she replies, “We’re about to take off.”
“They haven’t told us to turn our phones off yet, answer it.”
“Yeah, answer it,” the old lady says next to us, still not minding her own business.
She takes our advice and answers the phone, from the volume of the phone, I can hear Reese’s distinct voice say, “Hey baby.”
I tune out their conversation just as I get a text from Hollis.
Hollis: You have been confirmed as in the know.
Melony: Told you. I can see it in my head. They’re cute together.
Hollis: We would be even cuter, especially naked. My abs plus your ass, match made in heaven.
Melony: You have a one-track mind.
Hollis: Yeah, and its name is Melony.