Fireworks 1 and 2

Jungle: Chapter Forty

    Nicki tried to talk to Mia, but Mia didn't feel like talking. She was relieved when the car dropped her off at her hotel. Before she could get out of the car, Nicki said, "Hey. Mia."

    Mia looked at her, knowing that she had to look a frightful mess. Her mascara and eyeliner were probably ruined at this point, and the lip gloss she'd applied earlier and hadn't bothered to touch up was probably long since gone. "Yeah?"

    "I'm here if you need me. Okay?"

    Mia nodded. "Thank you. For everything. You tried to warn me, so this one's on me. I can't blame anyone but myself." Hoping that her face didn't reflect the sadness she felt, she stood out of the car. Tank held the door open for her and escorted her inside of the hotel.

    As they waited for the elevator to reach the ground level, he asked her, "So are you going to tell me what happened?"

    She glanced at him and gave a slight shake of her head. "There's not much to tell."

    "That's how you're going to play it?" he asked, hoisting an eyebrow.

    "Zach LaVine got out of hand and I slapped him," she blurted out, staring straight ahead at the closed elevator doors. "There."

    He cursed under his breath. "I should have gone with you. I knew I should have. Aubs is going to have my ass."

    "It's not your fault," she told him quickly. "It's Zach's fault. He knew I had a boyfriend and he..." She rolled her eyes and wrapped her arms around herself. "I don't know how I'm going to tell Aubrey this. I don't have the heart to tell him."

    "You have no choice but to tell him," Tank said.

    "I know. I just...I don't know how." She groaned in frustration. "And why did I dance with Zach? That was so stupid. So incredibly stupid."

    "Dancing isn't an invitation for anything else other than dancing," Tank muttered as the elevator doors slid open.

    She stepped into the elevator and waited for him to follow before pressing the button for the floor her hotel room was one. "I'm an idiot. Plain and simple. And Aubrey is going to hate me for this."

    "I don't think he'll hate you," Tank said. "His ego will be bruised for awhile but then he'll probably get over it."

    "Probably?" Her heart sank.

    Tank frowned down at the expensive watch on his wrist. Months back, he'd explained that the watch was a gift from Drake, his friend and employer. "Maybe I should sleep on the couch of your hotel room tonight. Just in case."

    "Zach isn't Trevor," she said with a dry laugh. "I doubt he'd stalk me to my hotel."

    "Then again, you also doubted that he would pull a move on you, right?" Tank pointed out.

    The man doesn't talk much but when he does, he makes it count, she thought just as the elevator reached her floor. She stepped out of the elevator. "I don't need you to sleep on the couch, Tank. Sleep in your own room. Get some rest."

    He frowned as if not knowing whether or not to take that command seriously. "Are you going to have a conversation with Aubrey tonight?"

    She turned and started heading towards her hotel room.

    He was close at her heels. "Are you?" he repeated.

    "I don't know if I can."

    "You have to tell him," Tank said emphatically.

    "I know. I know I do, and I will."

    "No, you don't understand." He paused and sped up his steps so that he was walking beside her instead of behind her.

    "You're going to tell me that if I don't tell him, then you will," she predicted.

    He narrowed his eyes and shook his head. "Close, but no. I was going to tell you that if you don't tell him, TMZ will."

                                                                             ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    Skype every night they were apart, even if it could be for only five minutes - even if they only had time to say goodnight to each other. That was the deal. Drake's crew wanted him to party the night away with them. He could hear them, even from the master bedroom of their suite. They were cracking jokes and shouting out on the balcony. It was a surprise none of the other hotel guests had complained yet.

    Drake had declined. He couldn't party, not tonight. He had to check in with Mia, and deep down he would rather spend time with her than drink, smoke, and party into the wee hours of the morning. That's not stopping me from smoking hookah now, he thought as he took a puff of the pipe. When you were waiting endlessly for your girlfriend to return to her hotel room from a nightclub where she was dancing the night away with Nicki Minaj, hookah tended to work wonders for impatience and anxiety. He sat with his back against the headboard of the bed with the hookah pipe in hand, laptop computer open and booted up beside him on the bed. He was just missing one thing: his girlfriend.

    While he waited, he responded to text messages he'd missed and checked his Instagram feed. His Instagram fanpage had posted several videos from his concert performances, and he selected a few to post to his own page, then idly watched as comments rolled in. There were more complaints about the fact that Mia hadn't shown up to perform "Soul Cry" with him. After about a half hour of reading comments and reviews from his Tampa show, he checked his watch. His brows furrowed, and he decided to put in a text to Mia. Could she have gotten drunk and passed out on him? He didn't know how late he should wait up for her.

    Five minutes passed, then ten. No response from her. Time continued to pass and boredom started to set in. He grabbed his Blackberry from the nightstand and started to tool around with lyrics for a new song to help stave off the boredom.

    He fell asleep, slumped back against his pillows, fully clothed in a navy blue sweatsuit with his cell phone in hand.