Page 5 of Base Block

“Millie, leave me alone,” I begged. But this wasn’t her. I was in an old car that was driving on a highway that I didn’t recognize, but the person next to me was the same guy as before. Callum.

“I’m Rainey,” I reminded him.

“Right, sorry. We’re on the way downtown,” he said. Then he reached toward my side and I stayed very still.

He wasn’t trying to grab me. He had picked up a bottle of orange juice from the floor near my feet, and he handed it to me. “It’s from the vending machine at the gym,” he said.

“Thanks.” I opened the top and swallowed all of it in one long, continuous gulp. I was so thirsty that my head hurt, but that could also have been from the pills I had taken.

“You could get breakfast at your hotel,” he told me.

I would try. It all depended on Damian and his mood, which I assumed would be foul if he’d been mad enough to leave me at the club the night before. He and Millie would also be mad if they’d been trying to call me, because of course I wasn’t answering. “Yes. I’ll eat later,” I said aloud.

The sun had risen a lot more and the clock on the dashboard showed that it was just past seven o’clock, so he must have worked out for a while. He looked like it, too, because his shirt had a V of sweat and a few locks of his dark hair had pulled out of his ponytail and lay wet against his neck. He seemed even larger in the full light of the morning. I looked at the size of his hands on the steering wheel and then studied mine, which were like a baby’s in comparison.

I’d dreamed about that again, about holding an infant in my arms. When Callum had woken me, I could almost still feel the heat from a small body nestled against my chest. I stared out the window at the morning rush hour, remembering.

“If you were my stylist, what would you tell me?” he asked.

“What?”

“I was looking in the mirror at the gym and wondering what you would do for me,” he answered. “Where should I start?”

What would an actual stylist have advised? “What do you like to wear? Where do you like to go? The answers will help determine your wardrobe needs.” That had sounded good.

“I go to the gym, to practice, and to work. I like to wear clothes that cover my nudity so I don’t offend anyone or get arrested,” he told me. “What does that say about my wardrobe needs?”

“Casual chic,” I answered. “You don’t go out?”

“No, I don’t,” he said. “The only way I know about the club you came from, 20 Grand, is because there was a murder there three weeks ago and they caught the guy in my neighbor’s back yard. It’s not a place I would have expected a tourist to hang out.”

“We went to a lot of places last night,” I said. I couldn’t remember the names of any of them, though. “I’m not just visiting here, I’m also working.”

“Styling?” he questioned.

“Um, yes, but I’m also the member of an entourage.”

“That sounds kinda royal,” Callum noted. “Who are you traveling with?”

“You may have heard of him. Damian,” I said and waited a beat. No, he had zero response to the name. “He’s an LA-based musician and we’re promoting his latest album drop. We’ve been all around the country.”

“Who does he sound like?”

“Have you heard of Icelandya? Pippy Polluelo? Garden-Variety Madman?”

“Are those bands, or are you just saying words?” he wondered.

“They’re popular artists, especially Pippy. He has a huge fanbase in the club world. Damian would love to have as many followers,” I said but then quickly added, “He’s on his way.”

“Maybe I’ll hear more about him someday.” He had sounded doubtful. We drove even closer to the tall buildings and then he announced, “This is the downtown area. That’s Monument Circle and there are hotels all around here. Is this looking familiar?”

“Yes, I know where I am. I can get out.” I pointed to the next corner and he pulled over to the curb.

“You don’t have to walk too far, do you?” He glanced again at my feet.

“No, I’m close. Thank you.” I exited the car, holding my empty OJ bottle, and stepped onto the sidewalk. I waved at him through the window. “Bye.”

He didn’t immediately pull away so I started to walk, as fast as my foot would let me. It must have seemed like I knew where I was going, because after a minute, I heard his quiet car leave. Then I turned back to watch it disappear into traffic.