Read Fix You for Free Online

There’s absolutely no reason to believe he noticed me or thinks of me in any special way. This is a man, a famous man, who happens to be in my town, and there’s no reason to believe it’s anything more than that. Although a teeny, tiny part of me remembers that he did say I have lovely eyes.
    I chew a stick of gum before I leave the car. I look a mess, but maybe the gum will distract from any terrible, sweaty odor I might be putting off.
    Inside the door, I don’t see him right away. There isn’t a counter, just a woman sitting at a desk in a generic office reception area.
    “I’m here to pick up a friend,” I tell her. “He just flew in?”
    “You can go on back.” She absently waves me toward a door.
    I go through it into a huge airplane hangar. The triple-story doors are open to the cold weather. A small jet taxis out, headed toward the runway. A man stands just outside the doors, silhouetted, a bag at his feet.
    It’s him. I can tell as I get closer. The baseball hat is the same. So are the sunglasses.
    He looks kind of abandoned. I can’t believe a private plane just dumps you at the door of a terminal and takes off, but I’ve never flown on a private plane, so…
    “Hi.” I walk up to him.
    He smiles, picks up his bag. “Hi. Thanks for coming to get me.”
    An employee walks by and gives us an odd look. Maybe this isn’t the way it usually works.
    I can’t act natural. I just can’t. “What are you doing here? I mean, I’m totally glad to see you, but where are you going? Why do you need a ride?” I stop talking before What the hell? or worse escapes my mouth.
    We walk around the outside of the building toward my car. He lugs the duffle bag casually over one shoulder. Wherever he’s headed, he hasn’t packed much.
    “Some of the people I work with are going skiing in Sun Valley and invited me to go with them. I wasn’t doing anything, so I said yes. I don’t ski, but it’s important sometimes to hang out with the people in my business—you know, network and all that.”
    He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. “I’m so sorry, but I have to smoke. I really need it. Filthy habit, I know. I never should’ve started. It’s one of the vices I’ve yet to give up.” He smokes, and we’re almost to the parking lot. I’m still silent, still confused. “Anyway, the longer I sat on the flight with these people and listened to them, the more I knew I could not spend a weekend with them.”
    We’re at my car. He hurriedly drops the cigarette and stomps it out. I pop the hatchback and silently cringe. We’ve got the dog’s bed, two pool noodles, and a bag of clothes destined for the Goodwill in the back. It’s a total mess.
    He tosses his bag in without a second glance and shuts the door. I don’t even get an opportunity to sheepishly apologize. He’s talking too fast.
    “So then suddenly we’re landing, and I realize we aren’t landing in Sun Valley, we’re landing in Boise—some nonsense about wind shears in Hailey, who knows, and we’re on the ground, waiting it out.”
    He’s climbed in the passenger side and now scoots the seat way back. Of course it’s up too far because no one ever rides in the front seat. The boys are too young. He’s still talking. “I’m really pissed now, really dreading the weekend, and as I fidget and look through my contacts on my cell, I see your number. And to be totally frank, the sudden idea of seeing you sounded immeasurably more appealing than being with those idiots.”
    Now, finally, he is quiet. I sit in my seat, keys poised to turn in the ignition, but I’m stuck. I think what he just said is still bouncing around the inside of my head, waiting for the neurons to fire and make meaning.
    Stuff comes out of my mouth that I hope resembles sentences. “So you called because you want to hang out with me? Like, for the weekend?” I’m staring at him, I’m pretty sure.
    “Kind of? I don’t know. It was a whim. If