by J. P. Hansen
Brooke smiled and said, “I did too.”
He gazed into Brooke’s eyes one more time, then slid backwards out of bed. Brooke couldn’t help but stare—he looked so cute with his hair tousled, standing in his boxer briefs. Thoughts of Parker flooded in and they kicked into action.
Chase pulled his slacks on, slid into his shoes, and said, “As much as I’d like to watch you dress, I’ll provide you some privacy. I’ll go make a few calls outside where I can pick up a better signal. Come out when you’re ready.”
Brooke propped up on her elbows, with fingers interlocked under her chin and eyed his strut to the exit. She heard a rustling, guessing the giant door to the hangar was opening. She pulled on her dress and ran her hands up and down and sighed. I’m not sure it’s any better than yesterday…Brooke squinted through the plane’s tiny window out the large opening and fretted.
Gripping the compact, Brooke utilized a small ration of makeup. She couldn’t untangle her hair, but eyed a cap beside the pilot’s seat—Blue Devils—argh, I’d rather be bald than wear that thing.
She raked her fingers through her hair once more, still unable to ease out the snarls. In bare feet, she eased down the prickly steps to the rough concrete, then slipped on her heels, and strode toward the opening. The rain had paused, but clouds remained.
Brooke spotted Chase, cell pressed to his ear, back turned. He looked mighty fine in khaki’s and collar-less black shirt. She marveled at his v-shaped upper torso and toned bicep—not bad without a shower.
Hearing Brooke’s heels, he spun and smiled, raising his forefinger in the air, saying, “Thanks a million. You’re a lifesaver.”
He clicked the off button as she asked, “Good news?”
“I’ll say. Grab your bag—I found us a car. A cab’s on its way.”
***
“I can’t move.”
“C’mon Rusty, we’re past checkout time and Parker’s starving.”
“Get a late checkout…There’s Cheetos still left in the bag…I need to sleep.”
Heather sneered, “We’re leaving without you—”
“I don’t give a shit!”
“Nice language in front of a four year old,” Heather scrunched her brows, “We’ll be out in the car waiting. I’m gonna go check us out.”
Heather slammed the door before he responded, then faced her wide-eyed son, and said, “I’m sorry, he gets that way when he drinks too much. I wish he wouldn’t…” She surveyed the street, and said, “Hey, you wanna go to Waffle House?”
“Do they have Mickey Mouse waffles?”
Heather laughed, “I don’t know—let’s go find out. Rusty’ll be a while, I bet. It’s best to let him sleep.”
***
“Why won’t he answer?” The cabbie sped toward the Orlando airport. Alamo held his reservation for the one available rental car in the entire area. A full-sized SUV—with tinted windows—and, if no hotel rooms became available, it would do.
“Who won’t answer?” Brooke asked.
“Oh, my private eye. After what I paid him, he better not have run out on me.”
“It’s too bad we can’t call the cops…”
The cab driver glanced into his rearview mirror; Chase gripped Brooke’s knee and she took the hint, mouthing sorry to Chase. They rode in uncomfortable silence.
Once inside the airport, Brooke went to the restroom while Chase stood in the line that extended beyond their rope barriers. She still had some unresolved questions. Chase seemed too perfect last night—he had to be hiding something. She resisted asking him about the woman he escorted into the hotel, but was dying to know the truth. Brooke contemplated calling Melissa—the only person she trusted with her keys—to have her open the infamous package, but she didn’t want her to see the note. Not until she could see it first. And, she wanted to see a picture of Heather. All of this has to wait.
Brooke thought of Parker—I hope he’s alright. His wife, ex-wife, or whatever she is, sounds like a nut case. If she hurts him, I don’t know what…I can’t think like that. She’s his mother, after all. I wonder if there’s more to the story. Why does someone try to end it and leave an adorable son, gorgeous husband, and a life of riches? My situation was different—or was it?
Brooke left the bathroom more confused than when she entered. Even though she slept well, she needed a shower—and a toothbrush. Chase spotted her and waved. He had only inched a few spots but was at least inside the ropes.
“Feeling better?” Chase lowered his voice, though people in line stared.
“I could still use a shower—”
“That makes two of us,” Chase reasoned, “I’ll just be happy to find a car.”
“What’s the plan?”
“I was hoping to call around to all the local hotels and see if they’re registered, but…”
“That sounds like a great idea. We can split—”
“Not so fast. I’m guessing the room’s in his name or some alias cash deal. I don’t remember his last name or even his real first name—only Rusty. I wish Max would answer.”
“Max?”
Chase moved in closer, cupped his hand and said, “My PI.”
“Oh,” Brooke leaned in, Chase lowered his ear, as she said, “I wish we could just call the cops.”
Forty-five minutes later, Chase and Brooke finally reached the counter. While Chase fidgeted, the aloof representative punched her keypad as if she was writing a novel. Finally, she peered over thin dark-framed reading glasses, and said, “All I have left is a Cadillac Esplanade for $155 a day.”
“I thought I had a reservation for—”
“It’s the best I can do. We’re overbooked. Take it or leave it.”
Chase glanced at Brooke, and said, “We’ll take it.”
More typing. Still more typing. Chase asked, “Does the backseat recline?” Brooke shot a glance at Chase.
Slow Alamo woman nodded, saying, “Uh huh,” sounding like Billy Bob in the movie Sling Blade.
Chase signed the remaining paperwork, and whispered to Brooke, “I think law school had less rules and regulations—and took less time.” Finally, she lifted the keys up in the air, and Chase grabbed them.
The Esplanade turned out better than he imagined. It had plenty of extras, including heavily tinted windows, though Heather would never recognize him in a Cadillac. Just as Brooke said, “Where to?” Chase’s annoying ringtone—“Duke of Earl”—sounded.
Glancing down, Chase’s eyes brightened, “Perfect timing.”
Brooke heard a woman’s voice speaking rapidly, She then tried to comprehend the conversation from Chase’s comments, “I don’t care what it costs…I see…Are you kidding?...Yes…No…That’s the only available room?” He glanced at Brooke as he asked, “Does it have two beds?” Brooke raised one eyebrow.
Chase covered the cell mouthpiece, and asked Brooke, “What’s your shoe size?”
Brooke hesitated, eyes fixed on his, “Seven.” Before she could ask why, he said, “Okay, thanks. Let me know if anything else opens.” He pressed end and said, “Ever wear glass slippers?”
Brooke chortled, a combination of nerves and the absurdity of the question at a time like this. “I’m afraid to ask ‘why?’.”
“Believe it or not, the only available room within an hour is…” He laughed uncontrollably. She said, “You better pull over. You sound like Goofy.”
His laugh intensified; Chase veered into a gas station parking lot. Tears streamed. She asked, “What’s so funny? Did you get a room or not?”
The laughter continued, then sputtered enough for Chase to say, “We’re staying in Cinderella’s Castle Suite.”
“You’ve got to be joking!” Brooke’s stern eyes made him laugh as hard as before. More tears. He reached in his pocket, then paused, and shot a glare at Brooke. She said, “Looking for your handkerchief?”
He nodded, still acting like he inhaled a balloon of laughing gas.
“I used it, remember?” While
Chase continued chortling, Brooke thought, this’ll be interesting. I heard him say something about two beds…I’m definitely not drinking any champagne. This time, I’m keeping my wits.
Chase said, “Well, I asked Ginny to get us as close to Disney as possible. I still don’t know how she pulled this off…I hope you don’t turn into a pumpkin at midnight.” More laughter; this time Brooke giggled.
He plugged Disney into GPS, still chuckling. They cruised into the Magical Kingdom lot, scanning for Minnesota plates—no luck—then found a rare parking spot near the front.
Chase said, “I miss Parker. Be on the lookout. I have no idea if Rusty’s with them.”
Once inside the security gate, the mood brightened. Whimsical music bounced off the walls of the quaint little village as Disney characters waved from every street corner. The last time either one had been here was when they were kids.
At the entrance to Cinderella’s Castle, a peppy college-aged girl directed them inside, saying, “Lucky you.” Chase was afraid to ask Ginny what it cost—she said she pulled some serious strings to procure the invitation-only suite.
“Is this your honeymoon?” asked an animated girl behind the counter, clad in Cinderella costume.
Chase eyed Brooke, and beat her to the punch, answering, “Sort of…”
After a Cinderella giggle, the girl said, “Well, welcome to our most enchanted suite—I should know, I live there. But, tonight, it’s yours. Enjoy.” More character giggles.
Mickey Mouse led them to a private elevator. Just before entering, Chase lifted Brooke into his arms, chuckling, as Mickey faced them, with hands on hips. Their suite covered an entire floor. Mickey opened the door, followed by Brooke and Chase. He said, “Would you like a tour of the suite?”
Chase started to say no, just as Brooke said, “Yes.” Mickey spun around, then chuckled, “How ‘bout I give you a mini-tour?”
They admired the windows—stained glass with slippers. He led them to the bedroom: two double beds. Brooke sighed, but thought it was fit for a princess. The room had a fireplace, with an adjacent parlor and bathroom. Stone floors and walls, along with hardwood paneling, and stone columns added to the mystique of a fairytale castle. Mickey chattered on, “The suite is furnished with a 17th century Dutch desk, two antique “slipper” chairs—used in the 17th and 18th century to sit on while putting on shoes—and, as you can see, support columns decorated with carved mice. Don’t worry, they don’t bite.” He released a whimsical laugh.
Brooke eyed Chase—whose faux frown could have turned her into a pumpkin. Brooke said, “Thanks Mickey. I think my husband wants some privacy.” Her smirk made Mickey chuckle—out of character. Mickey took the hint though, and scampered away.
The door closed, then Brooke said, “Nice touch at the front desk…”
“You liked that?”
“No.” Brooke balled her fists on her hips. Chase slinked toward her. She said, “Don’t even think about it—I’m showering.”
“To save time, we should shower togeth—”
Brooke shut the door and clicked the lock. Then, she used all the hot water in the Magic Kingdom. Toweling off and feeling reborn, she spotted his and hers bathrobes and giggled—I can only imagine him in that Prince Charming robe. She slipped on her Cinderella robe and applied the little remaining makeup she had in her bag.
***
“Oh shit, now what? This trip’s fucked!” The old Chevy van spewed steam out of the hood.
“Watch your language!” Heather’s buzz dissipated each time Rusty swore in front of her son.
Parker’s eyes widened each time he heard a new curse word.
Rusty veered off the highway as a family in a station wagon pointed at the front of his truck. He shouted out his window, “I can fucking see it.” Heather slapped him on his arm, drawing a scowl.
Stuck three hundred miles from Florida, Heather wanted to grab Parker and hitchhike the rest of the way—without Rusty. She had no idea the Minnesota police were calling them, “Bonnie and Clyde.” The dream trip with her son had turned into her worst nightmare.
***
“Who the fuck is this?”
“Excuse me…I’m looking for Max.” Chase pressed his cell to his ear, frowning at the floor.
Brooke sauntered over to the other bed in the room while Chase fidgeted, oblivious to her grand entrance.
Chase heard a muffled voice, “He’s looking for Molini…” Then, he heard laughter, followed by, “Who’s calling?”
“My name is Chase Allman. I’m a client of Max Mol—”
“Max is,” the man answering Max’s cell stared at the lumpy rolled-up rug, “Max is temporarily indisposed at the moment.” Raucous laughter, then, “I’ll make sure I tell him you called.”
Hanging up, Chase’s face whitened.
Brooke, sitting with her legs crossed in her Cinderella robe, asked, “Who was that?”
Chase’s eyes never left the floor, as he said, “That explains…He paused, “Huh? Oh, Brooke—I didn’t hear you come in…”
“I’m out of fresh clothes, so I thought I’d try this robe out instead. Do you like it?”
Chase glanced over to Brooke, and said, “I think Max is dead…” Brooke scrutinized Chase like a psychiatrist, beckoning him on with her silence. He said, “That explains why he hasn’t called… Shit!”
Brooke scratched her still-damp hair, then flipped her head up, and said, “Maybe, we should go to the police.”
“I can’t. You don’t understand. If this goes public, I lose my job and you lose your new business.”
“I don’t care about anything but finding Parker.” Brooke’s glare looked ghastly in the Cinderella mirror above the fireplace. She took his comment as a threat.
“There’s a chance they’re here today. We should split up and check everywhere.”
Brooke shook her head, “I don’t even know what Heather or Rusty look like and they probably disguised Parker.”
“I’m not sure Rusty’s even here. We should just focus on finding Parker…Hey, nice outfit, by the way.”
“I thought you’d never notice. I’m all out of fresh clothes. I hope you don’t mind me in a dirty dress…You better disguise yourself or Heather will spot you from a mile away.”
“We both need disguises.”
“Well, we’re in the right place—I noticed a gift shop downstairs. Let’s find you some goofy ears and sunglasses and I’ll pick up a T-shirt.”
Clad in touristy garb, they set out together. The place was packed—Sunday and right before children returned to school. Every little boy resembled Parker. They scoured winding lines, then scrutinized passengers exiting rides. By five o’clock, they had circled the Magic Kingdom at least five times.
Deciding to split, they canvassed the main exit lanes. Countless families scurried past in an array of Disney outfits, carrying stuffed characters. After the crowd dwindled, Chase scurried over to Brooke, and said, “I suppose there’s a chance they didn’t even arrive yet…” His comment couldn’t replace their feeling of helplessness.
Brooke said, “Or, they could’ve gone to Epcot, Animal Kingdom, or even the Hollywood Studios.”
“Parker loves rides. Even though he’s not tall enough for Space Mountain, they have to be here. I can see him on Splash Mountain all day long. I think they’d go here first, then Epcot, but who knows? Parker may talk her into going shark fishing.” Chase buried his head in his hands. Brooke rubbed his broad shoulders as he shuddered, his prayers turning to tears.
So much for the magic of Disney.
***
“It’s okay if we can’t go to Disney mom.”
“Oh, Parker, you’re so sweet. Don’t worry, we’ll get there. Rusty’s good with fixing things. He’ll be back soon...I hope.”
A couple of truckers stopped—more to check out Heather than to actually help. Some offered rides, saying garages are closed on Sunday. Tempting. Rusty’s cell phone was off; Heather guessed he ran out of jui
ce. I wish he would’ve plugged it in like I told him.
Rusty plunked down against a giant oak, and fired up his crack pipe again, thinking, why do we have to take the little shit all the way to Disney?
Heather and Parker waited and waited—though tempted, she didn’t dare leave; Heather knew what Rusty would do to her.
***
A doorbell chimed It’s a Small World After All. “I’ll get it,” Chase said.
Brooke and Chase hadn’t eaten much since they left North Carolina. Too tired to go out, they ordered room service while they planned their next move. After Donald Duck lifted the metal trays, they dug in like ravenous wolves. Nice first dinner date, Brooke thought.
The doorbell rang again. Chase glanced at his half-eaten steak, and said, “I don’t think we ordered anything else…”
Brooke jumped up, saying, “My turn.” As she opened the door, one of the Seven Dwarfs stood holding another delivery—champagne.
His tag said “Sleepy,” but he acted more like perky, saying, “Special gift for the honeymooners from your friends at Disney.”
Brooke invited him in, then eyed Chase, who shrugged. After opening the bubbly, Chase handed him a twenty, then Sleepy skipped to the door, whistling, Whistle While You Work. Chase and Brooke eyed each other, then laughed.
Chase poured, Brooke said, “The last time I drank champagne, I got into trouble…”
Chase smiled, raised his glass, and said, “Cheers to trouble.”
The alcohol overhauled their weary bodies. Chase said, “I am really sorry about Pharmical. I wish there was something I could do…”
Brooke pressed her finger to Chase’s lips, and said, “Shhhh. Don’t be sorry. I wasn’t happy there and my ouster wasn’t your fault. I believe things happen for a reason and Angel’s Academy was a Godsend.”
“I still feel lousy about the way it happened.”
Brooke placed her hand on top of Chase’s and said, “Do you know what you can do to make it up to me?”
Chase shook his head back and forth quickly, then raised his eyebrows. Brooke said, “Make Stabilitas—lives depend on it.”