Page 8 of Wild Thing
Thankfully, my suitcase was one of the first to hit the baggage carousel. I reached over and pulled my luggage off the conveyor belt.
Damn, that’s heavy.
Weaving in and out of the crowded airport terminal, my Converse sneakers squeaked on the linoleum floor. I wanted to get out as quickly as I could, mainly to avoid running into anyone from Gellar and Summers. I was sure some of my colleagues were on that flight, although I didn’t know for certain. But what I did know was that I didn't want to see anyone until I had to, which would be on Monday at the conference.
Dragging my suitcase out of the terminal and into the rideshare waiting area, I cursed myself for not having the foresight to pack a jacket in my tote bag.
“Damn, it’s freezing,” I mumbled to myself. Shivering as I waited for my ride, I entertained the thought of one day owning my own interior designer consultancy. I daydreamed about what it might be like to select what projects to take on and how freeing it would be to break away from the shackles of a large company. How ironic that my job at Gellar and Summers reflected how I felt about my relationship with Zack.
Unsatisfied.
Left wanting more.
A deep knowing I could do better in both areas of my life.
I contemplated opening my suitcase to fish out a jacket when, thankfully, my private car arrived. A middle-aged man popped the boot, exiting the black BMW M4 to assist me with my luggage.
“Ms. Forrester?”
“Yep, that’s me.”
Taking my bags, he gestured for me to jump into the back of the car. Flashing a genuine smile, I thanked him as I passed over the ridiculously heavy suitcase and carry on bag. I had many bad habits and overpacking was one of them.
Shivering as I slid into the backseat, I was grateful the heat was on. Having a private car ensured minimal conversation, so at least there was no dreaded small talk headed my way.
“How long until we arrive at The Dalton?”
“It’s a thirty minute drive, Ma’am.”
Perfect. I fetched my phone and headphones out of my bag, and pressed shuffle on my playlist. Leaning back into the heated leather seat, I closed my eyes.
Bring Me The Horizon’s “Doomed” began to play.Of course.Yet another song that reconfirmed how I felt about my life.
Doomed.
***
My phone rang, waking me from a twilight sleep. I had dozed off. Blinking furiously, I willed myself awake and answered my best friend.
“Hey Taylor.”
“Dylan, are you there yet?"
“Yeah, I’m nearly at the hotel.”
Glancing out the window, we were in the middle of the CBD. I despised the types of people that frequented this side of the city. Mercedes driving, mostly men in suits, always thinking they're more important than they actually were. AirPods in, making grand hand gestures while talking loudly, wanting all those in a one block vicinity to know how big their dick was.
“My flight is delayed,” Taylor said. “Bad weather?”
“Yeah, it’s wild here.”
“I’ll text you when I land. We’re on for dinner, yeah?”
“For sure.”
“Where are you staying again?”
“The Dalton.”
