and immediately regret it as I move my nose muscles and flinch with great pain. I slink off the bed and enter the bathroom to search for some kind of painkiller. Thankfully, this dank and cheap Italian hotel has a cabinet partially stocked with sample-sized pills. I’m not sure what it is, honestly, but I don’t give a crap. I just want the pounding in my head to stop.
I fill my mouth with sink water and swallow them down. My face sports a fresh purple bruise along the bridge of my nose. I turn away almost immediately. Fuck this place, man. Piper’s completely right. When we reach Paris, it’s time for a separation of ways.
I step back into the room and plop back onto the bed.
Buzz buzz.
The vibrations pull my attention towards the bedside table between the beds. A phone shines brightly into the dark room, then quickly dims itself. It’s not mine, and I’m pretty sure it’s not Shawn’s either. Which means…
It’s Piper’s. She must have left it behind.
I reach for it without thinking and flick the screen on to find a series of unread text messages on the lock screen, all sent within the last ten minutes. It’s nearly five in the morning — who is sending her messages at five in the morning? I suppose it could be someone in America, different time zones and all that. I search the screen for a name, but the number is labeled only as M .
I can’t believe you’re actually here.
Here’s my address in Paris.
See you soon. ;)
I lower the phone, fighting the extreme urge to react to this. Obviously, Piper has arranged to meet up with someone in Paris. I remember that email I found in her itinerary. The one from some fucker named Dante. Is M just a French Dante? Some guy she met over the internet? Who else would use a stupid fucking winky face in a text message like that? I know what that means. It’s douchebag talk for “Come here so I can fuck your brains out.” I wish I had scanned through more of her itinerary before charging out to that fucking club. I could have solved this mystery already. M. Who the fuck are you? There’s probably more messages from him, but I can’t open her phone or else she’ll know I saw these.
I take out my own phone and snap a photo of the messages on the lock screen, complete with this bastard’s address.
Sure, Pipes. We can go our separate ways once we get to Paris.
But I won’t be too far behind you.
***
“Well, you’ve certainly dug quite the hole for yourself, Kai.” Mandy slides the compartment door closed behind her and sits down in the empty seat across from me.
I sigh and stare out the window to avoid her judgmental gaze. “Mandy… please. I don’t need this right now.” My face still aches from the night before and talking only makes the pain so much more intense. A French sunset hangs on the horizon in front of me. I stare at it instead.
“A swift kick in the ass is what you need ,” she says, “but someone already took care of that for me.” She leans forward to get a closer look at my nose. “You should get that checked out.”
“I’m fine,” I mutter. “And what do you care anyway?”
She sits back. “Don’t be a jerk, Kai. I’m waving a white flag here.”
I see the concern on her face. “Sorry,” I tell her. “Where’s Shawn?”
“Diner car. Again. ” She rolls her eyes. “Apparently, they’ve got some great pastries or whatever.”
I hesitate a moment. “And Pipes?”
She takes a breath. “Piper is Piper.”
Outside of the occasion visit from Shawn, I’ve been locked in this compartment by myself for the last five hours. Or has it been six hours? Seven? It doesn’t matter. I spent the first hour of this final trip trying to get Piper to look at me and talk to me, but she refused every time. I finally said fuck it and retreated into the compartment. If she doesn’t want to talk to me, then fine.
I grip my phone in my jacket pocket. M. Whoever the fuck you are. I can’t get the image of Piper pinned
I fill my mouth with sink water and swallow them down. My face sports a fresh purple bruise along the bridge of my nose. I turn away almost immediately. Fuck this place, man. Piper’s completely right. When we reach Paris, it’s time for a separation of ways.
I step back into the room and plop back onto the bed.
Buzz buzz.
The vibrations pull my attention towards the bedside table between the beds. A phone shines brightly into the dark room, then quickly dims itself. It’s not mine, and I’m pretty sure it’s not Shawn’s either. Which means…
It’s Piper’s. She must have left it behind.
I reach for it without thinking and flick the screen on to find a series of unread text messages on the lock screen, all sent within the last ten minutes. It’s nearly five in the morning — who is sending her messages at five in the morning? I suppose it could be someone in America, different time zones and all that. I search the screen for a name, but the number is labeled only as M .
I can’t believe you’re actually here.
Here’s my address in Paris.
See you soon. ;)
I lower the phone, fighting the extreme urge to react to this. Obviously, Piper has arranged to meet up with someone in Paris. I remember that email I found in her itinerary. The one from some fucker named Dante. Is M just a French Dante? Some guy she met over the internet? Who else would use a stupid fucking winky face in a text message like that? I know what that means. It’s douchebag talk for “Come here so I can fuck your brains out.” I wish I had scanned through more of her itinerary before charging out to that fucking club. I could have solved this mystery already. M. Who the fuck are you? There’s probably more messages from him, but I can’t open her phone or else she’ll know I saw these.
I take out my own phone and snap a photo of the messages on the lock screen, complete with this bastard’s address.
Sure, Pipes. We can go our separate ways once we get to Paris.
But I won’t be too far behind you.
***
“Well, you’ve certainly dug quite the hole for yourself, Kai.” Mandy slides the compartment door closed behind her and sits down in the empty seat across from me.
I sigh and stare out the window to avoid her judgmental gaze. “Mandy… please. I don’t need this right now.” My face still aches from the night before and talking only makes the pain so much more intense. A French sunset hangs on the horizon in front of me. I stare at it instead.
“A swift kick in the ass is what you need ,” she says, “but someone already took care of that for me.” She leans forward to get a closer look at my nose. “You should get that checked out.”
“I’m fine,” I mutter. “And what do you care anyway?”
She sits back. “Don’t be a jerk, Kai. I’m waving a white flag here.”
I see the concern on her face. “Sorry,” I tell her. “Where’s Shawn?”
“Diner car. Again. ” She rolls her eyes. “Apparently, they’ve got some great pastries or whatever.”
I hesitate a moment. “And Pipes?”
She takes a breath. “Piper is Piper.”
Outside of the occasion visit from Shawn, I’ve been locked in this compartment by myself for the last five hours. Or has it been six hours? Seven? It doesn’t matter. I spent the first hour of this final trip trying to get Piper to look at me and talk to me, but she refused every time. I finally said fuck it and retreated into the compartment. If she doesn’t want to talk to me, then fine.
I grip my phone in my jacket pocket. M. Whoever the fuck you are. I can’t get the image of Piper pinned
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