His Assurance (Assured Distraction Book 3) (2 page)

“This is all a misunderstanding,” I said into the microphone shoved in my face. “I’ll be proven innocent in all of this, and then I can move on with my life.” My lawyer, Mr. Willis, took over the news conference relieving me of the problem. I hated when the vultures got that near me.

“Miss Reitzell will not be making a statement at this time. She is innocent of these bogus charges. That is all at this time.” Mr. Willis wrapped his arm around my shoulder and led me to the waiting car. Thank God. I was so tired already, and it had just begun.

When I came home to the U.S., I didn’t think there would be any problems, but being on the steps of the courthouse in downtown Houston, Texas, proved how wrong I was. I haven’t been back to the States in a couple of years.

Since my father was a senator in the French Parliament, the media had blown this out of proportion. He was going to be furious with me for drawing attention to myself. It was something I promised a long time ago I would never do again.

“Lola, what were you thinking even talking to the media?” my mother asked when I sat down next to her in the front seat of her car.

“Maybe that I’m innocent, and those people should leave me alone?” I rolled my eyes which I know is childish for my age but dammit, I’m tired and ready to go to bed. Police actually came on the plane and handcuffed me. I was utterly humiliated. The police picked me up from there and took me to Harris County Courthouse downtown.

“Look
maman
, I’m exhausted and dirty. I want a bath and my bed, please.” I closed my eyes and leaned back against the seat and head rest.

“I realize that Lola, but why would you get into a fight on a plane? And with a man?”

“Did anyone even think to stop and ask what that prick did to me to make me want to beat the hell out of him? No, they did not. They are only blowing this out of proportion because of
papa,
and you know it.”

“That’s true, but you should have never allowed it to escalate out of control, Lola.”

“What was I supposed to do, let him rape me right there on the plane? Maybe when my clothes were ripped off, and he was ramming me with his dick, I could convince someone what happened.”

“
Lola,
Please, don’t be so vulgar.”

My mother was outraged by my language? That’s what she was angry about? I couldn’t believe this.

She made me feel like I was a slut, and I was far from that. I was an educated woman who held an “adult” job for a couple of years now. I moved to France to live with my dad once I graduated from University of Texas’s nursing program. I wanted to get away from Texas for a while, and he begged me to come live with him and take a vacation.

I loved it at first, but sitting around doing nothing got boring fast with no friends, so I found a job working at the hospital outside of Paris where he lives. I had two outstanding years I’ll never forget, and I had no regrets. I made a lot of friends, and we had monumental times going out and hitting all the best clubs and concerts, but I needed to get on with my life so coming home to the States seemed like the best thing.

When we arrived home, I gave her my meanest stink eye look and carried my suitcases up to my old room. I thought I was stepping back in time when I walked through the doorway.

“
Maman
, you could have gutted my room and started over while I was gone,” I called down to her. I think the sheets are still on the bed from when I left. Sheesh.

She walked through the door behind me. “Lola, I didn’t want you to think we were getting rid of your room. You weren't kicked out, you went off to college and then your dad’s. You will always have a home here, darling.” She wrapped her arm around my shoulders from the side and pulled me to her.

“
Maman
, I’m twenty-five years old. I shouldn’t live here with you.”

“I know it’s only temporary until you get a place of your own.”

“Yeah, I need to apply for jobs first thing, but now I have this nightmare hanging over my head.” Sitting down and crying sounded like a great plan. Between being exhausted, interrogated, arrested and finally home, I am emotionally and physically a wreck.

“So, do you want to talk about what happened now?” she asked, giving me a skeptical look.

“Not really, but I want you to know the true story. At first, I sat down on the plane and promptly went to sleep. I had taken a pill at the airport just before we boarded so that I would sleep on the plane. I woke up and found Mr. Tall, Dark, and Muscular sitting next to me, and he was wide-awake. I tried to turn the other way, but he apparently thought awake meant talk, so he started the whole let’s be friends by way of asking me questions.”

Thinking back on it now, I should have excused myself to the restroom via the flight attendant so she could find me another seat. The way he was looking at me the entire time was creepy with a side of lecher thrown in.

“I was polite and made small talk because I knew the flight lasted for a several more hours. He had been drinking, and when he asked if I wanted a glass of wine, I should have said no, but I thought maybe it would put him to sleep, and I could get on with my nap. It wasn’t long until I had to pee, so I asked him to let me out to go.

“At first, he was like, ‘I think you have to wait. There’s a line.’ So I did, and we had another glass. I had to go badly by then, so I stood up and tried to climb over him. He put his hands on my waist and lifted me out since he wasn’t nice enough to stand up and let me pass.”

“You let him put his hands on you?”

“He did it so fast; I didn’t have time to object really, Mom.”

“You should have told the attendants right then, Lola.”

“I know, right, but I had to pee badly, so I went to the restroom and locked the door behind me. When I opened it to go back to my seat, he was standing there and pushed me in, turned, and locked the door. I asked him what the hell he was doing, and he gave me this smirky-looking grin like I was supposed to be okay with what was going on.”

“Oh, Lola, did you start screaming?”

“No, Mother. We were at thirty thousand feet over the Atlantic. What good would that have done? I wanted to get out of there without causing any more problems. Unfortunately, he had other ideas. He said he knew I was waiting for him to join me so we could both become members of the mile high club, but he suspected I was already a member. Can you believe that shit? He didn’t know me two hours before that, and he had me all figured out.”

“Second clue, Lola. You should have been screaming by now.”

“I know, but I just wanted to go to my seat and sleep. I had that pill and several glasses of wine, remember? With all of zero feet of space in that restroom, I told him to move away from the door and let me out, and get this; he starts laughing at me. Well, that pissed me off, so now I’m raising my voice and told him to get the hell out of my way.”

Mother nodded her head like she understands the situation.

“I was like, ‘Dude, move your ass, and let me out.’ That made him mad because he put his hand over my mouth and tried to shut me up. My mild claustrophobia kicked in, and that tiny airplane restroom was getting smaller by the second with him doing that, so I opened my mouth under his hands, and I bit until there was a coppery taste in my mouth. I knew blood was dripping from his fingers, and he jerked his hand away. When he drew back to hit me, I beat him to the punch, and I launched an uppercut hit to his jaw because space was so tight I couldn’t do a right hook like in kickboxing.”

“Oh, Lola, you didn’t. You threw the first punch, on the man’s face?”

“I sure as hell did. What was I supposed to do? He staggered back a little from the punch because he was looking at his finger-bite when I hit him. Now I had enough room to get a good swing and punched him right in the nose like the self-defense teacher taught us to. I got a great shot at it, too. He bled like a stuck pig. So now he’s bleeding from his hand and his nose, and it’s all down the front of him.”

“Yes, I can see it now. Blood everywhere. So what happened next?”

“I guess one of us was screaming like a little girl because the flight attendant is banging on the door telling us to unlock it. Next thing I knew, it popped open. I guess they had a key or something in case people get locked in. Anyway, he bends and turns around, and when he does blood drips everywhere. The attendant starts yelling, and I was kinda worked up over the whole thing, trying to claw my way out of the restroom to some fresh air when an Air Marshal came up with his gun drawn yelling at me to get down on the floor.

“I told him I didn’t do anything and that this jerkoff tried to rape me. The Marshal looks at me like I’ve lost my mind and yells it again. I know I should have done what he said, but that floor was nasty, and I hadn’t done anything wrong. Mr. Muscles pipes up and says I attacked him when he mistakenly thought the restroom was unoccupied. He gave the Marshal this ‘I’m so injured and innocent look,’ so the Marshall grabs me and tries to push me down to restrain me. Well, that pissed me off, and I was sort of fighting him back, so two men sitting in the front row jumped in and helped him hold me down to put handcuffs on me. Me! I hadn’t even done anything, and I get the handcuffs! He lets Mr. Muscles go back to his seat, and the attendant takes the first aid kit and starts cleaning him up while he looks at her with this ‘oh poor me’ look which she was totally getting into.”

“Lola, why did you resist? That’s why you found yourself treated like a criminal. You should have done what he asked you to do from the beginning. You know flights are a lot more secure now and have strict rules about problems created on a plane. They will charge you with all kinds of things.”

“I know, Mother, but what would you have me do, let Mr. Muscles have his way with me and then quietly tell the attendant, ‘Oh yes, by the way, could you help me, please? He raped me in the restroom?’”

“No, honey, but you could have handled it a little better. You’re no stranger to flying. You know the rules and regulations.”

“So when the plane landed, they took me off first and to jail in downtown, and you know the rest.”

“Well, Lola, that’s quite a story. Did you tell all of this to the lawyer?” My mom is giving me a skeptical look.”

“Yes, I told him the entire thing. I’m not sure he believed me either, though, because Mr. Muscles is the only one looking like he had a beat down. He was a foot taller than me and had a good seventy-five pounds on me, and I beat the poor baby up in the restroom. They even called him an ambulance to check him out and bandage his wound. Also, I have to provide a current drug test to show I’m not on drugs and that I’m clean since I drew blood with my mouth. So stupid.”

“I suggest you get a bath, rest, and call your father. He’ll be home from court when you wake up, and I know he’s going to want to hear this entire thing.” She turned and looked at me when she got to the door and shook her head like she did not believe a word I said. What reason would I have to lie to her?

After showering, I climbed in my old bed and stared at the ceiling. “Welcome home, Lola.”

I can’t believe that was Lola, and she’s here in the U.S. What was she doing in the U.S.? Why had they arrested her? I can find these answers with a click of my mouse.

Headline News: “Woman arrested for possible terrorist threats aboard a plane from Paris.”

A woman, claiming to be a U.S. citizen was arrested yesterday on a plane bound for Houston, Texas from Paris, France. Reports say she caused an incident and had to be physically taken down by the Air Marshal along with a couple of passengers who aided the Marshal. According to eyewitnesses, she attacked another passenger when he attempted to leave the plane’s lavatory. The male passenger said they were seated next to each other, and she was very intoxicated when she left her seat. Guess “I’m drunk on a plane” isn’t just a country song. And next…

That was bullshit. Lola would never attack someone. Damn, I was only with her one night, but even I knew that. I started wondering how I could get in touch with her in Houston or if she was still in jail?

When my phone chimed it brought me back to Earth, I saw Carter on the ID. “’Sup, dude?”

“Hey, I just saw that the French chick you banged in Paris after our show on the news.”

“Hell yeah, it was her. I can pick ‘em, huh? No, but seriously, she was a nice girl.”

“Yeah, she was real nice when I heard her screaming all of those obscenities in French from your room.” Carter laughingly reminded me. Damn, I hoped no one remembered those kinds of things about her.

“Dude, don’t talk about her that way. We were alone and had fun together, not breaking any laws, not hurting each other or someone else, so leave it alone.” I knew I didn’t have to take the high road with him, but I wanted to see her again, and if Carter went around reminding everyone of the time we had in Paris, they would all think she was some groupie whore. Even if she was, I didn’t want to know about it.

“Yeah, so how do you feel about a road trip down to Houston? I want to see her.”

“Are you serious? The media will be all over that, Gunner. You don’t want to get in the middle of that shit storm.”

He was probably right about that, but I am determined to talk to her. “I’m going with or without you, so you decide.”

“When are you leaving? I’m a little preoccupied at the moment.” I knew he had a woman with him. When did he not? When I heard a man’s voice, my ears perked up fast.

“Dude, who or what are you entertaining over there? That sounded like a man laughing.”

“Yeah, picked up a couple of girls and a guy came with them. It’s all good. I didn’t cheat on your sorry ass, so don’t worry about it.” I knew he didn’t play for that team but damn, when a guy was close enough I could hear him laughing on the phone, I was a little thrown off.

“So, uh, are y’all in one bed together?” Carter and I had a routine with our sharing, and I was good with that, but I didn’t know he shared with other dudes, too. I didn’t think it had happened before.

“No Gun, we did not share anything. I’ll talk to you later about it. What time you want to head to H-town?”

“I gotta find her first, so I’ll get back with you.”

“Later, dude.” He ended the call.

Carter and I shared lots of women. We loved it. We loved sharing several women at the same time even more, and the way things went with the crazy women out on tour, it happened as often as we wanted. The hardest part was finding a room that could accommodate us all.

We never shared with strange men, though. NEVER. We had some unspoken rules, and that was one of them. We weren’t switch-hitters, either. We might take turns with women but never with each other. We weren’t homophobes or anything, but we just didn’t get off on men. Damn, we always had enough women to keep us satisfied so why even think about going there.

I pulled up her number on my phone and decided I would start with a text. We hadn’t spoken in over a year.

Gunner:
I see you’re in the States
… No that was too lame
.
[delete]

Gunner:
Hey, it’s been a while
…Oh yeah, that sounded a little desperate
.
[delete]

Gunner:
This is Gunner. I’m in Austin
… That was a little better
.
[delete]

Gunner:
Hey, are you all right? This is Gunner from Assured Distraction. We met in Paris.

I hit send before I could delete it. It still sounded lame, but I guessed it was better than nothing.

I spent the rest of the day unpacking, going through mail, and sorting laundry for the lady to do. I had a lady who came over once a week while I was on the road to collect mail and make sure everything was okay in the house. Now that I’m home, she’ll come and clean and do laundry. Sending out my laundry was a luxury I opted for since I sure as shit didn’t know anything about doing it myself.

By that night, I decided Lola either didn’t want to talk to she or me had changed her number. I thought about it all day and guessed she probably did since she was supposed to be living in France. Hell, her French accent sounded real to me, and she spoke it fluently. The article said she claimed to be a U.S. citizen, though. Why didn’t she tell me that? I think the lady has some explaining to do.

The banging on my door let me know Carter must have finally extricated himself from his private party. I opened it, happy to see him alone.

“Dude, I never heard back from you. What’s happening?” Carter moved into my den as he spoke.

“I haven’t heard back from her. I shot her a text after I talked to you, but she hasn’t replied.”

“You need to call her. Fuck that texting, get right to the good stuff like that sweet French accent I remember her using on you while she was wrapping those luscious lips around your dick.”

“Please, don’t remind me. I’ve remembered that since I saw her on TV.” I couldn’t get it out of my mind actually, but I didn’t want to sound over-eager.

I’d never been that way about a woman we met on the road, but for some reason, it was different with her. I had a hard time getting her out of my mind.

That was never a problem with new women at every venue. Most of them wanted to fuck someone from the band so they could brag about it. Hell, Carter and I didn’t care. We were happy to accommodate them as long as they were willing to accommodate us however we wanted it that night.

If I was honest with myself, meaningless sex with faceless women was becoming tiresome. It got old never knowing who or what was going to end up in my bed or bath or the door or table or couch or hell, even the brick wall outside the venue or side of the bus. Carter and I had sex wherever we wanted and pretty much whenever. I guess it was a miracle one of us hadn’t spent some time in the back of a police car for having sex in public.

“So, you think I should call even though she didn’t get back with me? I don’t want to seem desperate.”

“Dude, you are desperate. How long’s it been since you got laid? Your dick’s probably ready to fall off from lack of use.” I guess he didn’t see me leave with the red head. Just as well. Carter popped me on the back of the head. “Call her already.”

When the phone started ringing, my palms started sweating. What was this shit? I wasn’t that desperate.

“
Allo
,” a man answered.

“Uh, I’m looking for Lola.”

“This is her phone, but she is not here any longer,” said a thick, French accent.

“Do you have a number for her in the U.S., uh, please?” I bet he thought I was some weird stalker now.

“To whom am I speaking?” The man’s tone was very formal.

“This is Gunner Wallace. I’m a friend of hers from Texas.” Lame, Lame, Lame. What else could I have said?

“Well, Mr. Gunner Wallace. I will give her the message that you called, and she can return the call if she chooses. I am not in the habit of handing out my daughter’s phone number to strangers.

“Right, I, uh, understand that. You’re right. You shouldn’t give her number out. I’m sorry I bothered you, sir. Will you please give her my number and ask her to call me soon?” I wanted him to know I was serious about speaking to her.

“
Oui
, I will give her this number. Thank you for calling.” He ended the call before I could say anything else.

I turned and looked at Carter. “Damn, she doesn’t have that phone with her. She left it in Paris with her dad.”

“It makes sense she would have a U.S. phone while she’s here, dude.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. Guess there’s not going to be a road trip anytime soon since I have to wait for her to find me.”

“Good, let’s get some Torchy’s Tacos. They opened a new one while we were gone.”

“Now that you mention it, I’m starving.”