She didn't know what compelled her to do it. She didn't know what compelled her to drop everything, literally everything, book a plane ticket to wherever his tour had stopped at that night, and get on said plane to see him. She didn't understand why she had done it either. They weren't good for each other. He hooked up with a new girl every night on tour yet he kept calling her back, and she kept responding. She couldn't stop responding. Because despite how bad he might be for her, and boy was he bad for her, she wanted to be with him. She wanted to be wrapped in his warm embrace even if that meant sacrificing a small part of herself every time she went to be with him.
So there she was, stepping off of the first class section of a plane in a short and tight tribal skirt that showed off her long, newly tanned legs. And there she was with her boobs practically falling out of tank top but trying to play it off with a tan cardigan. And there she was in the airport with her hair curled just the way that he liked it, the auburn parts of it shining in the evening sunset as she crossed the airport right to his driver. She recognized him and he recognized her. Of course he recognized her. He was always the one that picked her up from the airport.
"Demi," he greeted, tipping his hat at her as she let a little smirk play on her lips. He never knew why he always had to pick her up from the airport but he always did without complaining.
"How long is the ride?" Demi asked, shouldering the leather purse that he had sent her in the mail. No note, no remarks, just a little gift that she had somehow treasured because he didn't just randomly gift any of his other whores. Because that's what she was, right? She was just a booty call and nothing more. And maybe if she kept telling herself that, she would believe it.
"About thirty minutes. He paid for a hotel even though his bus is perfectly fine," he glanced at Demi in the rear view mirror as she looked down at her lap, playing with her phone. He always paid for a hotel when she was in town because he always told her that she was too good for a bed on a tour bus.
"No comment," Demi chuckled, messing with the end of her skirt as she glanced out of the tinted window of the limo. She had barely noticed what city she had flown to. What was it this time? Chicago? Dallas? Miami? What city would she be sneaking out of at three am in the morning when he was concious and realized that he had allowed himself to cuddle her after sex? Which hotel would she be scampering out of at the crack of dawn to make her flight because he didn't do feelings and it was just time for her to go?
"He has about two hours before his show," Martin stated as Demi nodded and slipped out of the limo with only her purse in hand. She never traveled with luggage. What was the point of having luggage when she never stayed?
"Here's his room key. 647, the top floor. I'll see you later Demi," was Martin looking at her with pity? He had no reason to pity her. She had brought this upon herself by always giving into him, never telling him no, allowing herself to become a pawn in his little game. She cleared her throat and smiled at him again before heading into the hotel, her red bottoms clicking on the shiny limestone floors as she headed to elevator.
She hummed lightly as the elevator music played. She counted the floors until she reached the top and took a deep breath when the golden doors slid open and she was greeted with an empty hallway. She stepped out of the elevator, observing the room numbers before she stopped in front of his door. Before she could knock, she pulled out her MAC compact mirror and applied another layer of ruby red lipstick. She smacked her lips together and gently tossled her hair before using the key to open the door. The light flashed green and the door clicked so she pushed it open, walking in and feeling the air conditioner sweep across her clammy skin, cooling her down as her nerves began to act up as they always did.
"You made it. I didn't think you were coming," he was facing the window, looking out at the city as the sunset and for a moment in time, she pictured something different than what this actually was. For a moment, she was entering their loft in the middle of the city after a long and tiring day at work. She had been ambushed by paparazzi outside and she wanted nothing more than to slip out of her shoes and enjoy a nice hot bath with her husband. For a moment, he was her husband, her superstar husband, and he was standing there, waiting for her, waiting to engulf her in his embrace and kiss the spot behind her ear which he had memorized as he asked her how her day was. For a moment, that was what she pictured until she was brought back to reality by the sound of his voice.
