Chapter 9
Tommy
After a long night of no news, I feel sick to my stomach as I’m carted away from the mansion early the next morning.
Regret isn’t a super familiar feeling for me, and I’m not used to dealing with the fallout of my own actions.
Usually, I run off. But this time I’m forced to wait all night in Young-gi’s house, nervously pacing the room and reliving Kira’s horrified expression–the way she flinched back from me, the way she begged me to stop.
Once the reality of what I’ve done hits me, I shower off the blood and lake water as quickly as I can, worried that at any moment the police are going to come and take me away.
I’m not trying to get rid of evidence or anything, I know I’m fucked if police come.
But I figure if I’m going to jail, I might as well be clean first. But, luckily, the cops never show.
Instead, when someone finally comes for me early this morning, it’s just a staff member looking professionally blank-faced.
Under their strict supervision, I’m finally bundled into a car, and when I work up the courage to ask the driver where he’s taking me, he says I’m going to be dropped off at the airport. I sigh, relieved and sad and scared at the same time.
Relieved because that’s better than jail.
Sad because I never got to tell Kira I was sorry. I don’t even know where she is, or if she’s alright.
And scared because I have no way to get out of here. It doesn’t matter if they bring me right to the door of LAX, I’ve got no money or ID. Even if they bought me a ticket, I have no way to check in for a flight, or prove my identity. I’m no one. A ghost.
I’ve got no way home. And the reality of my situation is that, if I can’t get transportation back to New York, I’ll have to rebuild myself from the ground up here in California. I don’t even know where in California I am. I don’t even know which airport they’re bringing me to.
Maybe I can walk to a bus station from wherever the driver drops me off.
But I’ll have to make a stop at a pawn shop first, to get money for the bus fare; cross-country tickets aren’t cheap.
Luckily, I’ve already hidden a few of Tommy Claremont’s shiny, fancy things in my shoes and my pockets.
I’ve still got his suitcase and his clothes, because no one told me I couldn’t take them, and hopefully, it’s enough to pay my way across the country and cover my portion of rent and my missing wages for the last few days.
It would be nice if it was enough to buy some food along the way, too.
Realistically, I can go without eating for a while. I’ve done it before. But the memories of Young-gi’s breakfast buffets will haunt me forever.
If it’s not enough money–if it doesn’t cover everything and my boss doesn’t have a job for me right away… well, I guess I still know a few ways to get money quickly.
Maybe Bruce will be down to fuck. I haven’t sought him out in a long while.
I shove away the little voice in my head that insists I’m only thinking of Bruce because Young-gi gave off such strong Daddy vibes, and Bruce is the only real Daddy I know.
It doesn’t matter why I’m thinking about him.
What matters is whether or not he’ll pay me for a fuck.
If I have to go back to selling myself, I’d rather it be to him.
At least I got to eat like a king for a couple days. Just like I wanted, I console myself, and smile softly at my sore knuckles as I recall Brian’s hand being crushed under the stone in my fist. Yeah, that was pretty good.
I’m silent in the back of the car, all alone, as we wind through the scenic mountain roads.
Blame it on my tumultuous, distracted mental state, but I don’t realize where we are until we’re already pulling into the private airport that Kira’s jet brought us to, just a few days ago.
Why is the driver bringing me here?
“I think there’s been a mistake…” I start to say, but shut my mouth quick because what the fuck am I doing?
If Kira is willing to do this for me–or maybe her staff just assumed she meant for me to take the jet back home and she has no idea?
Either way, I should take the good luck.
I need to get home, and if I don’t have to pay my way, that means I won’t need to find Bruce and beg him to pity fuck me for cash.
My pride much prefers to escape via jet.
I hop out of the car as soon as it stops, pulling the suitcase with me. The jet’s door yawns open, and the stairs are already up and waiting for me to board.
I hesitate.
But it’s too late to tell Kira I’m sorry. I still wish I’d had the chance to, but the adventure is over. It’s time for me to go back to being just Tommy. As disappointing as this ended, a large part of me is relieved. I want to go back to being me. It’s easier that way. It’s what I deserve.
I haul my suitcase up the stairs, step onto the soft, thick carpet of the plane, and stop dead in my tracks.
Because Young-gi and Kira are both here, waiting for me.
“Uhhm...” I trail off. Without realizing it, I’ve partially kicked my suitcase behind me, like I need to protect it from being taken away. “Hi?”
Young-gi looks up at me from his laptop. Kira is huddling on one of the softer sofa-style seats, where she and I toasted with champagne on our way to California. I try to get a read on the situation, but she’s avoiding my eyes.
“Sit, Tommy.” Young-gi indicates a chair across from him as the jet door hisses shut behind me, startling me enough that I whirl around. My heart is suddenly racing, and I’m feeling twitchy and trapped.
“Uhm…”
“Tommy,” Kira gets my attention, and the nerves she’s failing to hide make me tense. “We should talk.”
Talk? With Young-gi here? About what?
And then it hits me.
Duh! Kira needs to ‘break up’ with me. Her uncle probably disapproves of me now, since I’m clearly a violent psycho, so he’s pressuring her to break it off and is supervising our flight back home to keep us from, like, rebelling or whatever. That makes total sense!
I mean, it makes sense if we pretend to forget the hypocrisy here, since Young-gi is one-hundred percent a violent man, too. Whatever, double standards are alive and well.
“Alright, Kira,” I say respectfully, and sit on the sofa beside her–not the chair across from Young-gi, because fuuuuck no. I turn to face her fully, giving her the floor for what I hope will be a short, painless break-up speech.
But she blushes and turns away, her hands fidgeting in her lap. Poor, shy Kira. Maybe I should help her along? She knows I don’t actually love her that way, so she shouldn’t be feeling guilty about it or anything.
Then again… is that guilt I see in her expression?
Am I missing something?
I clear my throat. “Kira, is there something you wanted to tell me?”
“Passengers, please prepare for taxi and take off,” the pilot’s voice crackles from the speakers.
An attendant comes and makes sure our luggage is stowed, and asks Young-gi to stow his laptop for a moment, at least until we’re at cruising altitude.
As she does so, the plane jerks into motion, driving slowly across the airfield to get to the runway.
It totally breaks the momentum of the conversation, but I know it’s a long five and a half hour flight, so we have plenty of time to get this show on the road.
While we lift off–rattling and speeding up, the engine roaring, the g-force pushing us into our chairs–I grip the seat under me and struggle to contain my gleeful adrenaline rush, because I should really be focused on more important things.
For instance, I need to decide how I should react when Kira dumps me.
Should I be devastated and beg her for another chance?
Or should I be respectful and tell her I understand?
Should I be some mysterious mix of the two?
Heartbroken but unwilling to go against her wishes?
I ponder the possibilities. Kira won’t care what I do, but I need to make sure that I act the way her uncle expects me to.
My eyes slide to Young-gi. He’s on his phone now, his thumbs typing so fast they’re practically a blur. I can tell he’s focused, but how he’s feeling about any of this remains a mystery. I don’t know what he expects me to say when Kira ‘breaks my heart’.
The tension in the room seems to simmer, especially with the strange, anxious vibes Kira is throwing off. Young-gi seems unbothered, which is typical, but I can’t imagine there’s anything so important on his phone that he barely has time to even look at me-
Wait, no. I’m glad he’s not looking at me. Yeah… yeah, super glad.
Once we’re at cruising altitude, we’re quickly served a round of drinks. I take mine on autopilot, not really wanting to sip on anything bubbly-sweet right now, but not wanting to refuse, either.
Once we’re alone again, I turn back to Kira and raise my eyebrows at her meaningfully. While her uncle is distracted, I make a face at her that I hope conveys my ‘just get it over with’ sentiment mixed with a dash of ‘are you alright?’ and ‘sorry for almost killing someone at your fancy party’.
She bites her lip, and looks away.
Hm. Something isn’t right. This is more than just her thinking I’m a freak, or being afraid of me, or feeling nervous that her uncle wants her to go through a pretend break up with me. This is something else. But what?
“Tommy.” Young-gi’s voice makes me jump. He’s looking at me over his phone, putting his task on pause so he can stare. “Where are you staying in the city, currently?”
The question is so unexpected and random that I draw a blank. I stare at him, speechless, for several long, long seconds, before I manage to stutter out the cover story Kira and I came up with. “An apartment in Manhattan, not far from Kira’s. That’s how we met.”
“I see.” Young-gi looks back down at his phone and types some more. “Makes things easier.”