Departure (Vivienne #3)
Page 2
He nods and winks at me.
I stack a few folders on my arm and grab my iPad. “I’m going to have a meeting with Jack.” I use air quotes around the word meeting. “About this trip, so if you need to do anything, take a break, drink, smoke something…I’ll keep an eye on him for the next half hour.”
He laughs at my joke and I can see the relief on his face. An afternoon with a whining Jack is a lot to take.
“I’d give you more time but I don’t think I can push him much farther today. I needed to take some of the wind out of his sail, throw him a little off balance. He’s too hard to deal with when he’s in his Attila the Hun mode.”
Martin waves as me as he heads for the door, his hand already in his pocket on a pack of cigarettes. Poor guy, hours of Jack and no smoke break.
✈✈✈
It’s a game that wears me out. I have to get Jack ready to go to Vegas and represent the company in a way that will not let our customers know that the next captain of the ship is completely lost and do this in a way that lets him think that he is in charge still.
He makes several commandments during our meeting, most of which are not going to happen. “I won’t need Martin once we leave the convention floor.” Uh huh, like that’s going to happen. I nod and pretend to make note of it. I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it. “I’ll do any press meetings in the morning.” Most of them have already been scheduled but I let him think this is an option.
“Mornings would be good.” More pretend notes.
He pulls out the schedule of cocktail parties and dinners we will attend and I see his mood sink. Compared to his normal social life these will be very tame and he will have to have his business face on. I’ve R.S.V.P’d him into so many he’ll be shaking hands and smiling until at least one or two a.m. every day, then he’ll have to be back on the convention floor at seven a.m. It should keep him out of trouble but it will also wear Martin and me to the bone.
At five he announces that we are done for today. I’m still smiling and agreeing with him but the ruse is exhausting. I’ve never been one to lie. Lies exhaust me. They are unnecessary, useless extra work—extremely inefficient. The thought of another week of this then who knows what beyond that makes me cringe.
Once I’m sure Jack has left the building I let my head fall onto my arms on my desk. Maybe I’ll take a quick nap before driving home. I’m too exhausted to cook but I refuse to get into a fast food habit. Then I remember my new credit card and I assess my options. I need some good food to fuel me through this. I can’t let myself get drained or worse, sick.
I pull up the menu for the main restaurant at the Mansion hotel. It’s two blocks from my apartment and have the quality that I need today. They are more than happy to prepare an order to go for me. Of course they are for these prices. When I hang up I feel a little revived. I’m doing something to take care of me. Not making dinner also gives me time for a long bath and maybe even a show or two from my DVR list. Having a plan gives me the energy to pack my tote bag, grab my jacket and leave my office. In the hall I turn away from Jack’s office but still feel it leaching my energy even without him in it. I reach back and flip it the bird. It’s petty, I know, but it feels good.
Chapter Four
There has never been a more dismal group of people landing on a private jet in Las Vegas. This is Martin’s first time on one of the company jets so he’s at least somewhat enjoying the ride. He’s searching for landmarks as we land. I’ve been pretending to work on my laptop the entire way to avoid talking to Jack, who is on cocktail number five. I don’t think he’s been pouring them light either.
It’s irritating me even though it might play perfectly into my master plan. If I let him tie one on now he will still feel like he has some say in what happens on this trip, which is a complete illusion. I’m keeping my agenda secret so he can’t work around it. If I’m really good he won’t even know I’m pulling the strings when it’s happening.
The limo is waiting but Jack is too antsy to get partying to wait for the luggage to be off loaded from the plane and put in the trunk.
He barks at me. “Send it to the hotel later.”
“If you say so.” It’s such a useful phrase—just short of, you’re the boss, Jack.
At the hotel I check us in and get our keys. I can see Jack out of the corner of my eye talking to the limo driver. My bet is he’s making sure he can have the car for the night. Go, Jack go, because Martin will go too. I smile at Martin who is standing behind Jack in his best security-detail stance. He and I already discussed this scenario. I assured him that he might have a night or two from hell out here but I would keep them to a minimum and there’s a good chance Joel would give him a sweet reward for his pain.
Sure enough Jack slides back into the limo before I can cross the lobby to hand him his room key. Martin slides in behind him and they’re off.
✈✈✈
As I wait for the luggage I text the room numbers to both Jack and Martin, finishing with have fun!! and a few cocktail emoji’s. I couldn’t find anything close to a stripper emoji.
When my bags arrive I put my room in order; toiletries in place, dress clothes pressed and hung, PJ’s laid out. Then I dress for the night…my night. I pride myself on dressing appropriately, a little sexy sometimes, but always tasteful for the situation. Vegas appropriate is completely different than Savannah appropriate and I love it. Before I left I hit the Nasty Gal site for something Vegas-night-out worthy.
I sling my bra into my suitcase. Won’t need that tonight, the girls are swinging free. I study myself and I fix my hair and put on makeup. I’ve never stood out as pretty but I have my appeal. My mom was half Chinese which shows in me just enough to look a little exotic. I get my almost-black hair from both my mom and my dad. My hazel eyes are all Big Mike. One of the few memories I have of my mom are of her primping in the bathroom mirror, probably getting ready for a date with my dad. She will always be the epitome of beauty to me, so petite and stylish. Looking back as an adult I can also see that she used to dress pretty sexy for her dates with dad. I think she would approve of what I’m wearing tonight and probably my plans too.
I may be pushing my sexy limits but I’m still me and I’m here without my braver half. Without Dom I’m too quiet and awkward to want to hit a night club. I have reservations at the high end restaurant here in the hotel and afterward I figured I try a little gambling. I laugh at the idea. I’ve never dared anything over nickel slots.
I try not to ruin my false eyelash application as I chuckle again. What should I say if someone asks me what I do for a living? The truth? “I’m a babysitter.” Maybe I should make up something cool like a Hollywood agent. I feel like I can be anything I want to tonight.
✈✈✈
My boobs jiggle a little with every step causing my gold metallic top to catch the light and attention. It’s a little unnerving when I see my reflection in the elevator mirror. I’m kind of wishing I had put a blazer on over the top.
A group of business men get on a few floors later. Their eyes are drawn to my flash but they try to make it look like they aren’t looking. I lift my head a little higher and stand taller (taller than most of them in my heels). I’m feeling some female mojo, a little of my goddess power.
They move aside so I can exit first and I feel their stares on ass, legs and exposed back. I stride into the restaurant and they follow. I check in at the host stand.
“Ramsey.”
“Party of one?” The hostess asks as she looks over her book.
I shrivel a bit at the question. “Yes.” My response is almost a whisper. Why does eating alone bother me? I’m a successful woman enjoying a very nice dinner while out of town and yet I still feel like a dateless wonder. As I follow her to my table fear shoves my goddess aside. Those men know I’m alone now…What if one of them follows me? What if they invite me to join them? I replay every small-talk failure I’ve ever had before I’m seated. I hide behind the large menu as
the men pass by my table. They are seated far enough away that small talk can’t happen. I breathe a sigh of relief and try to focus on my amazing food options.
The food is decadent, exactly what I would hope for in sin-city for these prices. My waiter fawns on me and flirts. He’s working hard for a good tip and I will definitely give him one (on Jack). Helping me forget my gawky aloneness is worth twenty-five percent, at least. The wine he chose not only perfectly pairs with my food but also helps me relax. By the time dinner is over I’ve got enough wine-induced bravery to hit the casino floor.
I ride the elevator alone and send a text to check up on Martin and Jack. Martin replies with a pic of Jack looking wasted, kind of slumped over. I’m not sure if it’s in a night club or strip club but I don’t care. As long as Jack stays out of the press I have Martin to help me work my plan. He’s paying the bartenders to pour heavy for Jack. I need him so shit-faced that he’s guaranteed to be in pain tomorrow. I reply with a thumbs up.
I stroll the edge of the casino looking for…I don’t know what. There are no tables with a big group gathered cheering someone on. I don’t dare try the games I don’t know how to play. Dom explained to me on our one time gambling that newbies screw things up for the true players and it pisses them off. I wander aimlessly until I find myself in the far corner of the room in the nickel slot section, my section. I hate how comfortable I feel here with the people who play it safe and love to hang out away from the epicenter. Dressing like I’m ready to party in Vegas didn’t make it happen. I’m still me.
I have two great steamy novels on my Kindle upstairs and I give in to their siren call. I try not to feel defeated as I admit to myself that I would rather be reading alone on a Friday night in sin city. As I turn to leave I hear Lucca daring me to break rules, to push my boundaries. Do you see what I’m wearing? I answer in my head. I ate dinner alone…and enjoyed it. I got this far, baby steps.
I stop in a shop and buy a few wanton chocolates. In my room I break into the mini bar for another glass of wine. I put on my PJ’s and I’m just about to join Guinevere and her two lovers in Camelot when I remember I have one more element of the Jack-plan that needs to happen tonight. I open my laptop and send both him and Martin the itinerary for tomorrow. Martin’s already seen it but this should be a nice surprise for Jack.
Chapter Five
The desert sun is beating down on me as I stand on the black-top ramp. I’m melting but it’s worth it because Jack looks one hundred times more miserable than me. In my email last night I told him that I asked for this demo to be scheduled in the afternoon so he could sleep in. I sounded so accommodating, so helpful.
I greet the pilots and introduce them to Jack.
“This is Robert Greene and Norm Slater. They will be giving you the run through on the J88.” The official reason Jack is here is to learn the finer details of our latest jet so he can answer questions about it starting Monday. Which I imagine he will be able to after Bob and Norm put it through its paces with Jack inside.
Jack manages to muster enough polite energy to shake their hands then croaks out, “Let’s get started.”
The pilots and Jack start up the stairs but I don’t. Jack notices. “Aren’t you coming?”
“I need to go over some security stuff with Martin about the convention floor. You go ahead.”
I try not to skip to meet Martin in the blessedly air-conditioned maintenance command truck. He’s has iced coffees and muffins for us and a spot near the window looking out over the ramp. We want a good view of this show.
We sip our coffee and watch the jet maneuver onto the runway. It takes off like a bullet, faster than normal, so that Jack can get a feel for its maximum take-off capacity. Then it immediately goes into a steep climb. Martin and I clink our plastic cups.
“Here’s to an hour without Jack.” We talk quietly so we don’t disturb the men monitoring the flight.
Martin laughs and agrees. “You really hate that boy, don’t you?”
I shake my head and wait to swallow a bite of muffin before I speak. “No.” I smile at my blatant lie. “Jack needed to take a demo ride in the J88. But I love the fact that this will hurt a little. I’m hoping that he’ll feel shitty enough to call it a day and not want another night on the town. I’m doing this for you too, you know.”
“He was a handful last night.” Martin peels his muffin as he decides how much to tell me. “I’m sure they’ll remember him at the Spearmint Rhino.”
“He drop a wad?”
Martin actually blushes a little and shakes his head at my nasty double entendre. “Yeah, I guess you could say that. We were there until around four a.m. He wanted to hit someplace else after that but he was slurring bad so the limo driver and I pretended we couldn’t understand him and took him back to the hotel.”
“Good call.”
I turn so I can follow the flight path from here to Reno and back on the screen the techs use. I see they’ve already reached fifty-one thousand feet, the max altitude it can do. I’m guessing Jack’s stomach is still hovering around the thirty-one thousand feet range. Out of the corner of my eye I see the Director of Maintenance, Cole Griffin. He’s frantically checking information on his iPad then pointing to the monitor screens and talking to the techs. Something is wrong.
“Bring ‘em down now.” His voice is steady but I can feel the tension in the room.
I catch his eye hoping for an explanation. “Engine fail, malfunction in pressurization.” He sees the blood drain from my face and adds, “The masks have dropped and they’ll make it back here but it’s going to be a bumpy ride.”
I shake my head, not understanding, needing more details.
“They’re going to have to make a quick descent to a suitable altitude where they won’t need the masks. On a low-altitude flight out here you run into heat pockets that will cause the plane to rise suddenly then drop.”
I look at Martin. Oh my god, what have I done? He shrugs.
Cole reassures me. “He’ll be fine. It’ll just be a nasty ride with no air conditioning. He’ll survive.”
I watch the monitor as they drop quickly then bank hard to return to Vegas. They’re about twenty minutes out—a twenty minute roller coaster ride from hell for Jack. I didn’t intend for it to be this bad, but now that I know he’s not going to die, I’m kinda enjoying this. Welcome to the aviation business, Jack. It’s not the joy-ride you thought it would be, is it?
✈✈✈
There’s a lot of work to be done on the plane before the convention starts on Monday so what’s left of Jack is carted off the plane and quickly stuffed into a limo. He’s wearing his shades and trying to hold it together but I’m pretty sure I smell puke and there’s something down one edge of his shirt.
Martin goes with him so I text him as they drive away.
That should keep him in bed for tonight and maybe tomorrow. I’ll meet you at the hotel later.
Once Jack is out of sight the pilots come over to talk to me. They’re already laughing.
“Didn’t plan on that. You got more than you wanted from that flight.”
Norm asks Robert, “Did you see him?” He laughs hard.
Robert can’t suppress his laughter. “I told him to buckle in and he ignored me. Fell out of his damn seat then had to fight to get hooked in.”
Norm adds, “He tried to get to the lav on the flight back but every time we hit a heat pocket he’d fall. And he was sweating out alcohol. The whole cabin smelled like it.”
With my rush of adrenaline gone I’m now laughing too. “I’m sorry about the mess. I guess he hurled in there.”
They wave it off. “We got it. It’s worth it.”
I walk away shaking my head, amazed at how far Jack’s bad reputation has spread. He needs to get his shit together and start respecting the importance of his job. All these people will depend on him one day and if things keep going the way they are they will work more against than for him.
✈✈✈
“How you doing?” I ask.
He gestures to the TV and spread of food. “I’m fine. You?”
I let out a long sigh and shrug. “I’m ready for this game to end. How many more days?”
“Four.” He takes a sip from his soda. “You want some lunch, a drink?”
I shake my head. I’ve got a massive case of post-stress tired. “I’m going to my room to rest for a while and make sure I’ve got a plan in place for tomorrow in case he gets up and wants to go out. I need him sober on Monday morning.”
Martin agrees. “This is the strangest assignment I’ve ever had. Been working security at the factory for twenty years.” He watches the game for a minute then adds, “Why is he doing this? He’s got this incredible job just being handed to him and he acts like this?”
I’m not sure how much Martin knows about the Joel/Jack saga and this isn’t a safe place to discuss it so I brush it off with, “Long story--a lot to do with his dad.”
Martin smirks. He’s not buying the poor-little-rich-boy angle.
I get up to leave but add, “Text me if you need anything.”
He waves back at me and goes back to his game.
✈✈✈
I get the text at four a.m.
Jack’s gone.
I rub my eyes and look at it again. Fuuuuck! I shoot off a quick reply.
What happened?
Martin quickly answers.
Left in the night.
I sit up to clear some of the fog from my brain.
Where are you?
My phone beeps with Martin’s reply.