by Kylie Parker
It took Paul a few days to do some research and come up with a well-detailed, four-page story. When it was published, on April 2nd, 2016, many people thought it was just a late, April fool’s joke. However, that only lasted for a few hours. The middle-aged reporter was quickly interviewed by CNN and MSNBC and by afternoon, his story had checked out. Dean Marshall and Carl Mitchell refused to speak to the media, thus remaining elusive. Those two would go down in history as the masterminds of a revolutionary piece of software and be worshiped by every major airline CEO on the planet. For most people, though, they would be remembered for all the wrong reasons.
All hell broke loose on April 3rd. Paul’s story had already created a major buzz on the day it was published, but, it was the following day when unions in the airline industry began to protest. The first ones to do so were the pilots themselves. In some cases, such as the Germany’s Lufthansa, they went on indefinite strikes, crippling air travel for weeks. Grounded airplanes do not generate income for the airlines. Even small delays are considered a big “no-no” for them.
Flight attendants followed and, in a matter of just a few days, air traffic controllers, maintenance mechanics, and airport personnel went on a strike as well. Nonetheless, such a worldwide movement was quite difficult to organize. Too many people were involved in it, and they could not agree on everything. Reactions varied, depending on the country and the union. In the US, United Airlines and American Airlines had been hit the hardest. In a little more than a month, their profits had plunged to unprecedented levels due to the various union strikes. Naturally, they sought ways to cut down their losses. A rumor about laying off several of their employees spread and when the unions found out, they threatened them with even more strikes. The unions would not tolerate it.
Amidst all this chaos, the trio had to stick together and not talk to the press. Isabelle and Monica were not exactly feeling safe about their jobs. They were often on unpaid leave, but neither of them showed any signs of regret. On the other hand, Kate’s hunch was right. Jonathan filed for a divorce as soon as he was discharged from the hospital, two days after his…unfortunate encounter with Dean. In spite of her failed marriage, though, Kate was relieved. She was free again. At 26 years of age, she was way too young to worry about what the future might bring. Moreover, Sean was a distant memory. She liked him a lot; he was a good lover, but Kate had to move on. Born and raised in Brooklyn, New York, she had to move to an apartment, close to her parents. The 90 miles that separated her from Sean was a huge deal for both of them. She was unemployed, and he could not afford to drive back and forth, even in his old, faded blue Ford Taurus.
After her painful breakup with Dean, Isabelle was an emotional wreck. Monica tried her best to comfort her, but, most of the time, she failed quite miserably. Everything had happened very fast. Their relationship had lasted a few days, but Dean was not a man she could forget so easily. He was the epitome of the hero she had always dreamed of. The man who could sweep her off her feet. At the same time, though, he was a man who would stop at nothing to get his own way. And, even if she did not care much about the stunt he had pulled on Kate just to get her into bed, she hated his idea about “FS-7.” After all, he was a man; most men she had met had only one thing in mind: Sex. Dean was no different. In fact, she admired his elaborate scheme to seduce her friend. It was an ingenious plan, and Isabelle liked smart men. But, the seduction of a single woman is one thing. Inventing something that would destroy the lives of tens of thousands of people is completely different. She could no longer be with him.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Four months later
On August 4th, at 11:10am, the two friends were over at Monica’s 2nd story apartment in Bethesda, Washington DC. Isabelle was trying to find something good to watch on TV, whereas Monica had begun to develop an interest in 80’s and 90’s music. Neither of them was used to sitting around and do nothing all day. They had to find new ways to kill time and their financial status was not good at all. Paul’s story had brought the airline industry to its knees, and the two friends had only worked six times in July.
In nothing more than a pair of green shorts and a pink tank top, Monica was sat on her gray, Lawson-style couch, with her laptop on the small, light-brown wooden table in front of her. Unwilling to annoy Isabelle, sat on the armchair on her left, she had headphones on, watching videos on YouTube. Isabelle wore blue shorts and a white tee. In less than three months, she had discovered bands that many people (like her parents) had known for decades, such as Foreigner, U2, The Eagles, Kansas, Survivor, and many more. She had also found many solo artists that she really liked. Born in 1989, she could not have known much about singers like Bryan Adams, Bonnie Tyler, David Bowie, or Alannah Myles. It was a good way for her to take her mind off their misfortunes, even though she sometimes got depressed. The number of love songs available online was immense. Whenever Isabelle was feeling blue about Dean, they would either go out and try to have a good time or stay in and talk for hours.
Unfortunately for Monica, Isabelle did not really like that music. As a matter of fact, she felt so fragile that the only music she would listen to was gangster rap. There was no way for her to even consider listening to anything else, despite Monica’s best efforts. Isabelle had admitted to Monica that those songs were really great, but a single song could bring back painful memories. Such was her pain that she did not want to relive the same situation, over and over again.
At some moment, Monica came across Alannah Myles’ one and only international hit: “Black Velvet.” The acoustic guitar intro drew her attention at once; she liked the rich sound the guitar produced. However, Isabelle’s friend soon realized that this particular song could not have described Dean any better. Alannah’s, deep, sexy voice filled her ears. The song itself was a beautiful, sensual, blues ballad.
Mississippi in the middle of a dry spell Jimmy Rogers on the Victrola up high Mama's dancin' with baby on her shoulder The sun is gettin' like molasses in the sky The boy could sing, knew how to move, everything Always wanting more, he'd leave you longing for Black velvet and that little boy's smile Black velvet with that slow southern style A new religion that'll bring ya to your knees Black velvet if you please Up in Memphis, the music's like a heatwave White lightning, bound to drive you wild Mama's baby's in the heart of every school girl "Love me tender" leaves 'em cryin' in the aisle The way he moved, it was a sin, so sweet and true Always wanting more, he'd leave you longing for Black velvet and that little boy's smile Black velvet with that slow southern style A new religion that'll bring ya to your knees Black velvet if you please Every word of every song that he sang was for you In a flash he was gone, it happened so soon, what could Do you? Black velvet and that little boy's smile Black velvet with that slow southern style A new religion that'll bring ya to your knees Black velvet if you please Black velvet and that little boy's smile Black velvet with that slow southern style A new religion that'll bring ya to your knees Black velvet if you please If you please, if you please, if you please
At first, Monica wanted to show it to Isabelle. Afraid of her reaction, though, she thought twice. Then, she saw the screen of her phone on her right flashing. It was Kate. Monica pulled the headphones over her head and answered.
“Hey girl, what’s up?”
“Hey, Mon! I’m great, how are you?” Indeed, Kate sounded in great spirits.
“I’m fine; Izzy’s here. She’s really pissed that nothing good’s on TV.” Isabelle threw a small, brown pillow at Monica, as soon as she heard her comment.
“What about you, darling? Hey, did you get a job? Last time we talked you didn’t sound so good…” Monica got curious.
“I just talked to Jonathan. He said he was sorry that he had to divorce me. I told him I left him no choice, you know, showed some understanding. Next thing I knew, he offered me $25,000! I mean, can you believe that?” Kate’s voice got high-pitched. She could not hide her joy.
“Really? Awesome! How come?”
“That makes two of us…” Monica sighed. She had no idea that Kate’s husband was such a sweet man.
“Mon, I wanna say something, and I want you both to hear this. Put me on speaker, will ya?”
“Ok…” Monica pressed the speaker button on her phone.
“Go ahead. We’re listening.”
“Izzyyyyy! Hey baby, how’s it going?”
“Hi, Katie. You know, same old, same old. You sound excited…”
“Glad you noticed. I already told Mon about it. Let’s just say I’m $25,000 richer and I really wanna thank you for helping me out last spring.”
“$25,000? Really?” Isabelle was thrilled.
“Right. I don’t know about you guys, but I’m sick and tired of seeing the same people day in and day out. I’ve missed you.”
“We’ve missed you, too, Katie. You don’t have to thank us, sweetheart. We all helped each other last spring…” Isabelle felt Monica’s left hand on her right knee when she finished her sentence. She looked up at her; Monica had a broad smile on her face. Isabelle responded by winking at her friend.
“Oh, come on, Izzy. You know what I’m talking about. Listen, I got an idea. I got a cousin living in Santa Monica.”
“Oh, my God…Santa Monica?” Isabelle sighed. She had been in California three years earlier on a leave of absence and could not wait to visit it again.
“Yeah, our hopeless romantic friend is in shock! Seriously, Kate, you should see the look on her face…” Monica was being sarcastic again.
“Mon, you need to stop that…Anyway, she’s just bought herself a huge beach house and she asked me to visit her yesterday. Haven’t told her about you guys yet, but I don’t think she’ll mind. What do you think?”
“Hmmm…California in August?” At that point, Monica glanced at Isabelle. They smiled at each other.
“We’re there, Katie!” Monica chirped.
“That’s great. I’ll be there tonight…”
“Kate, wait!” Isabelle exclaimed.
“Shouldn’t we come to you? I mean, we’re closer to California than you are.” Kate remained silent after Isabelle’s remark. Monica had a smirk on her face.
“What?” Isabelle wondered about their friends’ silence. Then, Monica went on to cover her mouth with both hands.
“Too many jokes…” she mumbled. Isabelle heard Kate laughing on the phone.
“No, Izzy. I’m actually closer. I’ll need to drive for four or five hours all by myself, but it’s ok. You guys deserve it. See ya tonight…”
Chapter Thirty
Isabelle and Monica had not seen Kate for months. Yes, they did spend a lot of time on the phone, but nothing is better than a friend’s company, especially at that time, when they all needed each other. And that was the reason for a very warm, cordial welcome to their recently divorced friend. At 8:30pm that night, Kate arrived at Monica’s with a huge bunch of lilies in her hands; she could not stop smiling at them, and she was in a very festive mood. Wearing a pair of jeans and a purple tank top along with ankle-high black boots, she looked rejuvenated. Her divorce had not affected her at all. On the contrary, Kate resembled more the woman Isabelle and Monica remembered during their time working together.
“Damn, Kate…You look phenomenal. I’m glad you got out of that marriage, I really am.” Monica could not hide her excitement. The three friends were still at Monica’s front door.
“I have to agree there. You look great, Kate…” Isabelle nonchalantly remarked.
“Thanks a lot, guys. Now, I really wanna go out and have some serious fun!” Kate opened her eyes wide. First, she glanced at Monica on her left. Then, she glanced at Isabelle, on her right.
“What? Kate, you just drove 230 miles. Aren’t you tired?” Monica squinted at her.
“Well, yeah, but guess what. You’re driving…” Kate threw the keys to her Mercedes to Monica. She had to abruptly move her right arm upwards and grab at the air if she did not want the keys to land on her shoulder.
“Nice catch…” Isabelle gave an elbow jab to Monica.
“Thanks. Kate, are you sure?”
“Hell, yeah! Look, I don’t need to remind you what happened on our last ‘girls’ night in,’ do I?” Kate was referring to the night that Isabelle had run into Dean.
“Um, no. I remember that very well…” Isabelle sighed.
“Ok. Now, go put some clothes on and let’s get out of here. Nothing fancy. No need to dress up or anything. Hey, Mon, you know any retro places in DC? I don’t need anything too loud right now.”
“Oh, boy…” Isabelle hummed.
“Yes, I do! Finally, someone I can talk to about that 80’s music I’ve been listening to lately! Eighteenth Street Lounge sounds great. I’ve read a lot of positive reviews online.” Monica was ecstatic, as she raised her arms to shoulder height and then placed her palms on Kate’s shoulders.
“Good. Well, don’t just stand there. Go!”
“Yes, ma’am! Izzy, come on…” Monica put her right hand on her forehead, just below her hairline and saluted Kate. Noticing the change in her friend’s behavior, Isabelle gave Kate a broad smile and followed Monica down the narrow corridor of her apartment, which led to her bedroom, twenty feet on the right.
It took less than ten minutes for them to emerge. Isabelle looked quite feminine: In a white, sleeveless tee, tight, faded black jeans and navy-blue, two-inch high heels. Monica, on the other hand, looked more like a rock star: She wore black, leather pants, a white shirt, knee-high boots, and a punk-inspired, spiked, studded shoulder leather jacket. For a moment, Isabelle thought she was looking at a biker.
“Hey…I’m pretty sure I’ve seen something like that somewhere…” Kate remarked, squinting at Monica.
“Are you kidding me? I bought this outfit like weeks ago, and Izzy won’t let me wear it!” Monica sounded frustrated.
“Oh, you can wear it alright,” Isabelle murmured.
“Just don’t wear when I’m around…” she added.
“Almost forgot how much fun you guys can be…” Kate giggled.
“And Mon, don’t forget. You’re driving…”
Chapter Thirty-One
As expected, traffic on a Thursday night was light. The trio managed to get to Eighteenth Street Lounge in less than twenty minutes. It was quite large and the 8x6ft green neon sign over the massive, black steel door looked as if it had been taken right out of an 80’s movie.
Monica was the first to enter. She took a look around. “Hotel California” was playing from the speakers, but only loudly enough so that customers could actually hear each other. The place looked fantastic on the inside as well. To the left, there were several black stools in front of a cream, long, narrow counter, and the floor was hardwood. The bartender was quite young; no more than 30 years old, with short, brown, curly hair, and quite chubby. Behind the dimly lit counter (a spotlight was in every corner of the ceiling around it), Monica saw a huge mirror, more than seven feet tall. Dozens of bottles were neatly stacked next to each other. Further to the left, the bar featured three, very tall, aluminum doors. To the right, Monica found a large dance hall and three couches, well away from one another. Unfortunately, those couches were occupied. If the three friends wanted to spend some quality time together in that place, they would have to sit at the bar. Two women were sat next to each other on the right side of the bar.
“Hmm…Is this how 80’s music sounds like? Doesn’t sound so bad…” Isabelle chirped, walking past Monica on her way to the bar.
“Actually, that’s from the 70’s, Izzy,” Monica corrected her.
“Told you she’d like it. She just doesn’t want to admit it…” Kate added.
“Evening, ladies. What would you like to drink?” The bartender was not much to look at, but he sure was polite and had a big smile on his face. Sat on the left of Monica, Isabelle ord
ered gin with a twist. Taking up the stool on Monica’s right, Kate asked for a vodka martini and Monica surprised them both when she requested:
“Jack Daniels. Neat.”
Soon enough, Monica sensed her friends’ palms on her shoulders, shaking her.
“Whiskey? Really?” Isabelle was shocked.
“Twelve-year-old whiskey, Izzy. There’s a difference. I’ve been told it’s pretty sweet.” Monica’s firm tone surprised them even more.
“Mon…” Kate murmured, grabbing Monica’s firm shoulder.
“What?!” Monica got upset, as she quickly turned her head to the right and faced Kate.
“Guys, it’s just a drink, ok? It’s not drugs or anything…” At that moment, the bartender handed Monica her drink. She picked up the lowball glass with her right hand, averting her gaze from Kate. After a sip, she closed her eyes and ended up licking her upper lip.
“Son of a bitch…It is sweet,” she claimed.
“Better watch out, Mon. I mean, leather outfit, whiskey…What’s next? Belching?” Isabelle just had to speak her mind. Kate nearly choked on her gin. She then wiped her chin with a napkin, next to her coaster.
“Trust me, Isabelle. Monica still loves guys. Don’t you, Mon?” Kate gave Monica an elbow jab.
“Yeah, don’t remind me about that…” Monica would not face either of her friends. She kept staring at the bottles, roughly five feet across from her.
“Haven’t been with a guy since Carl…” she went on and sipped some more whiskey.
“I know, Mon. Haven’t had sex in months…Hey!” Kate whispered. She did not want Isabelle to hear what she had to say. She even leaned towards Monica.
“I’m not even gonna ask about Ms…Lovestruck over there. How’s she been holding up?”
Monica slowly turned her face to the right and gave Kate a sardonic smile.