6. DAY ONE: THE MISSING
Preston
The look on Ava’s face as she floated away in the water is stuck in my head, haunting me and refusing to go away whether my eyes are open or closed. Telling myself I made the right choice is the only thing keeping me from going ape crazy, that and the fact that Anna has kept Kirk’s undivided attention since we made it to shore.
I did what I had to do, but my damn loyalty to being responsible has finally crossed the line and taken my heart and sanity with it.
“Preston?” Kirk says, for like the twelfth time this morning.
I continue to ignore him, the same way you tune out the morning alarm, fighting to treasure your thoughts for a few more precious moments before the incessant pestering snaps you back to reality.
“Hey, Preston?”
Shut up! My fingers tighten around the short hair on the top of my head until the pain draws me away from Kirk’s nagging. I close my eyes and see Ava’s face, eyes wide in shock and horror when she realized I didn’t jump in after her. Her expression is one I’ve seen many times before and one that, up until now, I’d always taken pleasure in making appear—usually following one of my witty comments or pranks that preyed on her susceptibility to being so naïve. I couldn’t help it. She was so unbelievably gullible. The word should have been printed on her name tag right under her name, in parenthesis.
I first saw that look the day we flew into Oceanside and I’d asked her to page ‘Mr. Harry Pitts’. One eye roll and I was hooked. I even sent her on a wild goose chase for keys right before we left in hopes of seeing it again.
I wonder if she recognized our tail number over the radio one week later when I requested to land, and if her heart fluttered with anticipation or with dread. Pathetic, I know. But now, I’ll never know.
It was the little things that shocked her the most, and maybe that was why I found her so intriguing. Big info came as no shock to her at all, like when I told her Kirk and I were known in the aviation industry for being the youngest pilots to fly a Gulfstream, or when she found out Mr. C was my boss and a wealthy businessman with no shortage of power and greed. She probably wouldn’t have batted an eye if I’d whipped out a cape and told her I was a superhero with special powers.
But my simple request for a ride to the hotel that day was enough to send her into shock, and that was evident on her adorable face.
I could almost see the panicked thoughts whizzing through her brain, probably wondering if she’d be capable of driving a car with me sitting close to her. When we met, she could barely remember her own name.
I remember being surprised that she managed to pull the van up to Hotel Charlie without taking out a wing as nervous as she looked, then I watched from the cockpit as she loaded our bags into the back of the van while I finished with the plane. I could tell her plan was to pretend not to care about my existence, but that disintegrated the moment I came up behind her and took the last heavy bag from her hands to place it in the back of the van.
“Bought any stock in sunscreen yet?” I asked, fighting back a smile, and then, “I’m thinking you might be their biggest customer.”
She kept her back to me so I wouldn’t see her blush and faked the importance of rearranging our bags.
But then her reply shocked me.
“I haven’t really had time to buy any stock because I’ve been too busy searching for unicorns, keys to start airplanes, and other things that don’t really exist.”
I laughed out loud and was proud that she’d stood up to my antagonizing. An amused grin tugged at the corner of my mouth when I said, “Well, Miss April, it’s always good to stay busy,” and then I winked before climbing into the van.
I secretly thought about betting Kirk as to how many traffic laws she would break in a short jaunt to the hotel, but instead, I played the sick game all by myself, knowing exactly what to do to keep her flustered long enough to complete my challenge.
Five.
That was how many she broke. I would have guessed seven or eight if I’d bet Kirk. She caught herself speeding twice and made a quick glance in the rearview mirror before applying the brakes. She also made California stops at all three stop signs in what I assume was a rush to get us out of the car ASAP.
I sat in the seat directly behind her and let Kirk sit in front. He made small talk about her job and just when I thought she might start to relax, she glanced in the rearview mirror to change lanes and her eyes caught mine. My arms draped over the seat beside me and my sunglasses were pulled down to watch her in the mirror with a smug grin. My stare was relentless. Her face flushed but before I could thoroughly enjoy the satisfaction of my success, Kirk yelled, “Look out!” and her foot slammed into the brake.
The car in front of us had slowed to make a turn, and she was inches away from a rear-end collision. I would have felt awful if I had actually caused her to wreck, but damn, that was fun. Kirk’s laughter broke the tension. I slid my glasses back up where they belonged and then leaned forward, resting my forearms on the back of her seat. My face was right next to her flaming red one. I offered to drive and pointed out that we were all too young to die, but at that moment, I think she might have welcomed death.
I asked if I could take her to dinner to make up for my obnoxious behavior the week before, and she paused long enough to make me wonder what kind of debate was going on inside her head. She finally agreed, and I lifted her hand to place another twenty-dollar money plane with a carefully written message in the palm of her hand.
A donation for Ava’s traffic school fund
The thumping snaps me back to the present.
Thump… thump… thump… thump… thump. The tiny ball bounces off the wall and into Kirk’s palm before being tossed again to a precise spot for the millionth time.
“Can you please stop?” I say between gritted teeth.
Kirk stops for a whole three seconds before he throws it again.
“Someone’s a little grumpy,” he says to Anna, and her eyes drop to avoid making contact with either of ours. She won’t take sides. “You’re just jealous you don’t have a toy in your pocket to keep you entertained,” he says carefully in an attempt to make me smile.
“Hmm. Well, you wouldn’t have a toy either if I hadn’t given you fifty cents to put in that stupid machine, a decision I deeply regret right now.” He catches the ball and pauses to look offended by my comment. “I need some air,” I tell them and jump to my feet.
“Hey! We have strict orders not to go outside. Remember? Preston!” Kirk calls after me, but it’s too late.
Screw the orders. I’m a master at following orders and look where that got me. Besides, I’m just going outside in search of fresh air to clear my conscience, even though I know that won’t be possible for a very long time.
Wicked Luck Page 8