Read Online Date With A Rockstar by Sarah Gagnon - Free Book Online

behind him to the other end of the platform. Scratchy music starts playing over the intercom system. The number four pulls up and leaves. Screams echo off the tile walls.
God, I hate the subway.
    The number eight arrives from the other direction and the Fluxem guy blocks the door as it slides open. I have to make the train. The door starts to close. I dart around the reaching guy. His hand swipes at my foot,but I jump through the train door before he can latch on. I release my breath as he’s shut out.
    The car rocks back and forth, speeding toward the airport. A shrunken man with beady eyes follows my movements. I stand in the center of the aisle, trying not to touch the seats or handholds. Minutes pass slowly. I feel like the guy is staring at my bag. Brakes screech as we stop at another station. A middle-aged woman climbs on. She’s normal and clean. Her presence makes me relax a bit. We watch each other balance as the train jerks back to speed.
    One more stop, then it’s me on my way to Key West. I let out a deep breath. Suddenly the train lurches. I stumble against a seat and fall to one knee. “Damn train,” I mutter as I feel a pull on my shoulder.
    I know the sensation and my elbow flies back fast and hard. I catch my assailant in the arm. I spin around, shocked to find the woman gripping my bag. I hesitate a second, then swing. My fist connects with her jaw, hard. She cries out and crab walks away from me. When I glance up, she cowers while the man smiles at me and claps his hands. His cackle sounds insane. The woman rubs her face and grinds her teeth, but the door opens and I leap out before she can move.
    Ha! I made it.
The modern airport terminal feels like a different world compared to the subway. I open my sack enough to slide the metal cylinder away. I check my hands. Elbowing attackers is safer, less chance of busting open a knuckle and catching whatever they might have.
    As I walk through the sliding glass doors, my security scan is welcoming. My metal cylinder shows up as an exercise device. People stride by me with purpose, and I cut through them to find a bench to wait on. I’m more than an hour early. I use the time to replace the images of the subway with composed business people. I dig for my ear buds and tap onJeremy’s latest release. The player was a gift from Mom the year before we had to start saving, and the song I borrowed from the library. I wait for the music to erase the stress.
    The song starts with a moan that sounds more like trapped wind than a human. The title is “Ocean 65.” I can pick out the sound of water crashing even though I’ve never been to a real sea. Boston Harbor, with its coal black tides, hardly qualifies. Wind and waves intersperse at the beginning of the song. Then the rhythm starts, matching the beat of my heart, then faster, bringing me with it. I tip my head back, close my eyes. I disappear into the spray of waves and thumping bass.
    I’m startled by a tap on my shoulder. Praline stands next to my bench. Not my first choice, but I motion for her to sit down.
    â€œYou’re early, too!” She’s quivering with nerves and clearly not as shy as I first thought. “Tell me your name one more time.”
    â€œMonet O’Neal.”
    She has two magenta suitcases propped up against our bench. “I was a little excited, you know? So I came early.”
    â€œYeah, me, too.” Excited and trying not to get killed.
    â€œI’ve been thinking all night and I’m pretty sure Jeremy will be on the plane with us.”
    She fans her face with her hand. Jeremy on the plane. I hadn’t considered the possibility. I guess I need to be ready to stand out. Maybe just being real will be enough. “Even if he is on the plane, he’ll probably be in a separate section.”
    â€œOh, I thought of that, too, but I might get a glimpse.” She raises her eyebrows, and I again wonder what Jeremy saw in