Selfish bastard

Part 7

Back at home, my anger had already disappeared yet I was left with despair and guilt. I paced up and down my living-room for a while, in search of serenity. I turned to the kitchen where I poured myself a glass of whisky. I sat down heavily on the sofa and drank in one go, feeling the liquid burn my throat.

As I was taking a blank look at the crystal glass, a sudden rage got me. I threw it against the wall and it exploded in many tiny pieces. I ran my hands in my hair and started to cry, endlessly.

When the fatigue finally defeated me, I went to my bedroom and curled up on my bed, tears still cascading on my cheeks. That's all I was able to do. Cry and cry...

Waking up in my messy sheets the next morning, I felt drained, miserable...and abiding remorses arose : what if it was a big mistake ? I may not see him anymore, was it worth the crisis ? It was a frustrating one sided story, true, but also intense, passionate, vibrant. Can I do without ? Am I ready for a dull, boring life without him ? Is it what I want ?

Sitting on the edge of my king size, I took my phone, in search of Simon's pictures. Looking at them, heavy hearted, I talked to him : "What are you doing right now, Simon, huh ? Are you still in bed, crying like me ? Do you, by any chance, miss me too ? Any regrets, second thoughts ?..."

I sighed and threw my phone on the bedside table. As I got up to take a shower, it hit me : I was in desperate need of something drastic to clear my head. I really didn't want to fall into depression again and I knew the journalists would like to question me after my departure from BGT...It seemed the perfect time for a little trip.

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Now I'm flying to France, Nice to be precise, where I'll stay at Elton and David's house for a week. I need some changes, starting with a setting one. But saying I leave with a light heart would be a lie...

Lost in my thoughts, I hardly hear the air hostess asking me if I want something to drink. I turn to her. I'm not in the mood of anything like that but she's objectively hot and exactly my type : tall, blonde, blue eyes and...well, big attributes.

I can see she recognized me, she seems star struck. But there's no shyness in her eyes : "Well...If you need anything, just call me..." she murmurs, clearly flirtatious ; and although I'm totally indifferent to her charms, I'm flattered by her interest.

An hour later, the steward announces we begin the landing. I start to fasten my belt when I feel a very close presence. The blonde hostess is here, slightly bending on me...I can feel her breathing and I have a very privileged view on her generous neckline.

"Are we good, here ?" she whispers with a deep seductive voice, pretending to check my security. As I nod, smiling back at her, she subtly and quickly slides a little piece of paper in my hand, winks at me then leaves.

I take a look at the note. It says :

'I'm Abbie. I'll be at the airport for 2 hours before my next flight. My number : 1371..............See you very soon, I hope ?'

Well, she wastes no time...I chuckle, surprised that, in my current shape and with my puffy eyes, someone could still find me attractive. Celebrity's magic, sometimes...

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In front of the mirror, I get dressed and try to fix my hair. I'm still a little out of breath but almost back to normal. I look at my reflection and despise what I see : a silly childish man...

Did I really think having sex with Abbie would make me feel better ? What a joke...I feel worse than before, if possible. I hate myself, now. Even her voice is insufferable to my ears, as it reminds me how pathetic the whole situation is. And so am I.

"Well...That was something !..." she simpers. "Feel free to keep my number and if..."

"Can.we.not.talk.please ?" I bluntly interrupt, clearly making her pay for the son of a bitch I've been.

This is too much to take, I can't stand myself anymore. I mumble a "Sorry, I really have to go" then quickly exit the hostess restroom.

People saying I'm a gentleman should think twice cause I left a woman I just fucked without a proper goodbye...Wait a minute...Did I treat her like Simon did to me sometimes ? Like a sexual object, with no other goal than satisfying my own egoistical needs ? Who am I, for fuck sake ? I don't know anymore...

I have to calm down and come to my senses...I hastily walk towards the taxi station and grab my phone to call David.

"Hello !" his sweet voice answers.

"Hi, Dear, I'm about to take a cab. Should be at your place in 20, I guess."

"No, wait, Elton wants to send you his chauffeur...and no protest accepted !" he jokes.

"Really ? That's so sweet...thank you" I gently reply.

They're so kind and warm...It reminds me why true friends are so important and you should cherish them while there's still time. I can't contain a sob, as that bittersweet thought shakes me up.

"What's up, Babe ? Are you fine ?" David asks, concerned.

"I'm ok...can't wait to see you, guys, I missed you so much..."

I know I won't be able to hide anything from these two. Even if I do, they're way too clever. I sigh, trying to relax : it's a sunny day, I'm in the south of France, soon reunited with two of my best friends. May it be the beginning of a new life...a new life without Simon Cowell.