Fireworks 3 and 4

Chapter Eighteen

    Mia had taken Drake's jet, which left him the option of booking a last-minute commercial flight. First class. It wasn't cheap, but it was a drop in the bucket compared to his net worth. It was an expense he'd have to eat.

    Because seating was limited, he only brought minimal security with him: Chubbs and Tank. Somewhere towards the back of the flight, a baby was crying. The passenger behind Drake was typing loudly on a laptop. Clackety-clack-clack-clack. Nothing could have been that important, that it couldn't wait until the passenger touched down in Houston. But the passenger typed away anyway, loud as fuck, if for no other reason, then to annoy everyone around him.

    It didn't take long for Drake's mind to tune out the noise. His mind focused on one thing: Mia. He tried thinking of the words he'd say when he saw her. This situation called for more than just a simple apology. But what could be said about the fact that he'd placed her into this very difficult position? Whether she had agreed to it or not, he should have stood his ground. He should have maintained that this was a bad idea. Instead, he'd allowed both her and Rihanna to sway him - now, here they all were. Rihanna was, no doubt, off to the next city where she would keep Travis well-hidden, and he was on a plane headed to Houston, where he hoped to persuade the love of his life not to leave him.

    The flight seemed short, but maybe that was because he'd been lost in his own thoughts the entire time. Text messages flooded into his phone as soon as he turned his phone off of Airplane Mode. One of those text messages was from Bri, and contained her address.

    There were no plans, no official itinerary, and as such, no car waiting for them when they touched down. The George Bush Intercontinental Airport housed several car rental agencies. He picked one, secured an SUV, and had Chubbs complete the proper paperwork while returning text messages and phone calls. On a whim, he attempted to text Mia again, but she didn't respond.

    "Baby girl, I'm so sorry for forcing you into the background like that. You know I love you, right?"

    Tank arched a look at him.

    Ignoring Tank's look, Drake continued practicing what he'd say to Mia. "I'll never do something as stupid as asking you to hide in the background again. I'll never ask you to sneak through any back doors or side doors or any shit like that. I never wanted that to begin with, you know that. Shit just got...carried away. Ugh." It felt like he was rehearsing lines for a track. Shaking with frustration, he ran a hand over the top of his head. "You don't have to go out there doing crazy shit to boost your career up. You're already a boss bitch. You're my boss bitch."

    Even Chubbs was looking at him funny now.

    Drake rolled his eyes, at himself more than anything else. "This all sounds so fucking stupid. I'm going to lose her."

    "You're not going to lose her," Chubbs assured him, pocketing his wallet.

    "She moved her shit out of the house," Drake reminded him.

    "She's working on being a boss bitch, because she thinks that you can't help but align yourself with boss bitches," Chubbs explained. "And to a certain extent, she's right. You have a habit of making sure you're associated with successful women, whether you're single or not."

    "I didn't want to do this, and you know that," Drake ground out between clenched teeth.

    "And she knows it too, which is just another reason why you don't have to worry about losing her," Chubbs said with a shrug.

    Drake shook his head.

    "Just talk to her, the way you're planning on doing," Chubbs encouraged. "It'll all work out."