The Wilson Mooney Box Set

by Gretchen de La O

  “I guess.” He had me. Damn I can never win when he does those sultry, don’t-disappoint-me eyes.

  My heart stumbled when the loud and obnoxious buzzer interrupted my thoughts. The spinning light above flashed a haunting, yellow glow across the waiting passengers’ faces. Suddenly, the snake-like belt began to move and the mouth of the beast began to vomit groups of suitcases. People crowded around Max, reaching in front of him across his primo space, and before long, he was fishing and catching other people’s luggage. When I finally spotted my suitcase, it was in a group with misfit and tattered ones. Max, worn out from collecting everyone else’s bags, had to dig and struggle to catch my suitcase and pull it to safety. Thank God he was so strong; besides the fact that he let out a deep heavy grunt, I knew I had overpacked.

  I flashed him a thank you for taking care of me look. Breathing heavily, he forced a smile back at me. I snatched up my backpack, flung it over one shoulder, and pulled the handle of my suitcase. I wasn’t going to torture him anymore with my tanker, I was just glad it had wheels. He grabbed his duffle bag, checked his watch, and held out his hand.

  “We’ve gotta go. Here, give me your suitcase, I’ll pull it,” he said.

  “You don’t have to. I can pull—”

  “Let me have it, we can’t be late for our ride,” he insisted as he snatched the suitcase from my hand.

  Okay, so maybe I wasn’t that strong, but I wasn’t going to let him pull my suitcase across the airport. I am independent and I can handle it myself. I snatched it back and started walking faster toward the front exit.

  “Wilson, wait. You can’t do that.”

  “Oh really? Watch me,” I teased back.

  “No, really—you can’t.” He sped to catch up.

  “I can’t, huh?” I started jogging.

  “No, I mean you can, but you won’t want to,” he projected. My suitcase trailing behind me created the perfect obstacle.

  “Really, why?” I stopped. Max, however, didn’t and his foot caught the edge of my suitcase. He stumbled; his arms went flailing through the air before he was able to catch his stride. My heart sunk. I went rigid and couldn’t breathe.

  He dropped his duffle bag and stood silent for a moment. After he caught his breath, he spoke slowly and deliberately. I felt like such an idiot.

  “Sweetheart, we aren’t leaving the airport that way.” He reached out to me and I rolled my suitcase over to him. “We have to go toward the first terminal to catch our ride.”

  I nodded and then watched him scoop up the strap of his duffle bag, pull on the handle of my suitcase, and hold out his free hand. When I didn’t arrive fast enough, he looked back at me with glowering eyes. I hurried to clutch his hand, he gave me his heart-melting smile, and I kissed him on the cheek.

  “Sorry I made you trip,” I whispered.

  “Yeah, well, if it wasn’t your birthday and I wasn’t so madly in love with you—” his voice trailed off as he squeezed my hand.

  Wait! What did he just say? Oh my God, he just said it. Hold it together, Wilson; hold it frickin’ together. Breathe, breathe, slowly breathe. He loves me!

  The bubble that stuck in my windpipe tickled and struggled to break the energy that spastically fought to hold it back. I wanted to blurt out how much I loved him too. I pressed my head against his bicep and twisted my arm around his. He loved me; nothing else mattered—until I heard her voice.

  “Excuse meeee. I’ve been waiting here for over ten minutes and not one of you people has done anything to help me. You have the worst customer service ever. I can’t believe you are still in business. If my father ran his business this way, we would be destitute,” Cindy barked at two girls—one behind the cash register and the other standing next to a rack loaded with brochures. She had them both in tears within seconds. Nobody deserved to be attacked by Cindy, but there was a snowball’s chance in hell that I was going to be the one to break it up. Not with Max on my arm. I could feel the pit of my stomach churn and the muscles across my shoulders twist up my neck. I had to make sure she wasn’t going to see us together.

  “Wilson, that sounds like—”

  “Cindy,” I answered as I hid behind him. “We’ve gotta get out of here. If she sees us together, we’re so screwed. She thinks I am staying with Joanie for winter break.”

  Not to mention the fact that I wasn’t completely sure she hadn’t seen the text messages from Max on my phone when I accidentally left it on my bed several weeks ago. I was keeping an eye on her Twitter and Facebook accounts, watching for the bomb she’d been waiting to drop. Amazingly enough, she hadn’t un-friended me yet; but there were some questionable posts about “friends” who have taken advantage of her generosity.

  Just as I ducked behind a column, I heard Cindy blurt out.

  “Oh, Mr.—Max, what a small world we live in. Did you travel solo?”

  “Hello, Cindy. Ahh, yeah, I came out alone this trip. Yep, just me,” Max stumbled over his words.

  Cindy was a viper; she could look at any situation and tell you how it was going to turn out. If Max didn’t play it off well, she was going to see right through him.

  “Well, had I known you were traveling alone, I would have booked my flight with yours. We could have been travel buddies. That is unless your girlfriend would mind,” she fished for an answer.

  “Oh, well, I don’t think…well maybe she’d…” he fumbled for words.

  Come on, Max. Pull it together; tell her you have to go. Get rid of her.

  “Well, Cindy, I think she might have a problem with me talking to such a pretty girl.” He smiled and she giggled her annoying laugh before she batted her eyelashes.

  “Oh, Max, now be careful what you say, I’m still your student you know; but only for six more months. Where is this elusive girlfriend of yours, anyway?” She grabbed his arm and winked.

  My face burned hot, my ears were on fire; my heart pounded rapidly in my chest. How dare she flirt with him!

  “I’d better get going. Happy Holidays, Cindy.” Max turned to leave.

  “Well, it looks like you didn’t travel too lightly this trip,” Cindy called out as she flipped her shiny blonde hair back off her shoulder.

  “Huh?” Max answered.

  “The lavender suitcase; please don’t tell me that’s yours?” she said deliberately.

  I could see his body tighten as I peeked from behind the big, round cement column. She knows—I can feel it. She was playing cat and mouse with him. Please, Max, please don’t crack.

  “Well, yeah, as a matter of fact, it isn’t mine,” his voice rose. My heart stopped. “It’s my girlfriend’s. I had a lot to bring on this trip, so she let me borrow it.”

  “Thank God, because that bag is just way too feminine for a brute like you.” She faked a boxer punch to his arm. “Besides, it reminds me of my back-stabbing, vulgar roommate, Wilson—who, by the way, used me to get a ticket out here to Aspen so she could make out with my douchy step-brother.

  What? AS IF—I didn’t make out with Nick. Give me a break, that’s the last thing I would consider doing. I can’t believe she told him that. She is such a bitch!

  Max cleared his throat and changed the subject. “Did you just fly in today?”

  “No, I’m waiting for my father. He got stuck on the East Coast. So much for a traditional family Christmas. Anyway, did you need a ride? I have a car out front, we can take you.”

  “Oh, no, I’m good,” Max stuttered.

  “Well, let me give you my cell number in case you need to call me.” She pulled out a pen from her purse, snatched his arm, and tickled her fingers across his hand before she scribbled her number on his palm. He didn’t pull away. He just stood there and let her ho-bag hands touch him.

  I grabbed my cell phone and dialed him. I couldn’t believe it took three rings to finally get his attention.

  Max snagged his phone from his pocket. “I have to take this call,” he said to Cindy, making huge deliberate motions. She held up he
r hand—her thumb to her ear and her finger to her lips—as she walked away. Call me, she mouthed to him.

  Yeah, like he would really call you.

  “Hey,” he sang into my ear.

  “Hi, I thought I should save you from trouble,” I said as I watched him walk the opposite direction from Cindy.

  “Thanks, I almost got away before she tagged me.” I watched him hold his hand up in front of his face.

  “Yeah, she was pretty quick with giving you her digits,” I teased.

  “You didn’t like that, huh?”

  “Not particularly,” I answered.

  “She only wants to make sure I get home,” he mused.

  “She wants to take you home—with her.”

  “Oh, come on, not Cindy. I’m not her type,” he played. “Besides, sounds like maybe Nick would like to take you home too,” he whispered.

  “Well, that’s just Cindy planting and hoeing in your garden.”

  “What? My garden? I don’t get it,” he questioned.

  “I’ll explain later,” I spat.

  “Meet me by the restrooms on the left; I need to scrub her number off my hand. And, Wilson, let’s hope you don’t run into Nick.”

  “Ditto,” I replied.

  I slipped the phone into my pocket and felt my stomach churn with the dread of having to deal with the seeds Cindy had planted in Max’s head. Okay, so what if Nick did kiss me last time I saw him? It wasn’t mutual—he kissed me, I didn’t kiss him. It wasn’t like I enjoyed it. Far from it. I pushed him away.

  I glanced over at Cindy and watched her cast a nasty look at the girls in the gift shop before she tromped off toward the baggage claim. I scanned the area and noticed that there was another huge, cement column next to the men’s restroom. If I was going to make it without being seen, I had to make a dash for it now. I clung to the wall, studying the rhythms and patterns of the people scampering through the airport. One man dragged two suitcases while the woman next to him pulled a little girl behind, screaming to go back to the gift shop. A family of four was jogging in a line, maneuvering through the crowd to their next gate, panicked that they were going to miss their connecting flight. Finally, a group of wide-eyed tourists moseyed past; it was now or never to get lost in the middle of them as they made their way toward the restrooms.

  I glanced back at where Cindy had stood, but she was gone; lost in the droves of passengers fighting for positions at their Disneyland-type vomit monsters that regurgitated their suitcases. I pushed off the wall and darted into the center of the tourists. They were speaking loud, violent, consonant-heavy words; it took me a second before I realized they were speaking in German. I flashed an apologetic smile as I glanced at them. Sailing with them among the raging waves of hurried passengers, I bobbed and swayed to avoid capsizing among the masses. I reached the restrooms without incident, and was even able to give a slight smile and tiny wave to the crew who’d gotten me across the turbulent sea of people.

  Just as I took a deep breath to clear away the anxiousness of the last several minutes, Max was coming out of the men’s room.

  “Hey, sweetheart—look, good as new.” Max held up his hand, palm toward me. No digits, no hearts, no reminiscence of Cindy violating my man with a ballpoint pen.

  “Thank God she didn’t use a Sharpie,” I smiled through my reply. But my nerves were twisted in shambles. I didn’t like the fact that Cindy was in the same airport as Max and me. All I could think about was getting caught and ending up being the subject of her next tweet on Twitter.

  “Ready?” Max asked. His eyes narrowed and his eyebrows curved, his facial expression speaking the words he didn’t say.

  “Yeah, I just don’t like that Cindy is here too. The faster we get out of here, the better I’ll feel,” I said as I peered around, looking for any sign that Cindy might have decided to come back and pick up on Max again.

  “Don’t worry about it, we are almost out of here,” he smiled as he grabbed my hand and we walked toward the other end of the terminal.

  As we approached the double sliding doors with two enormous forest-green wreaths, I noticed an old man waving at us. He was a gruff-looking guy with gray hair and earthen-brown skin. His face was worn with deep, carved lines that told their own stories of a hardened life. His hazel eyes, filtered with a hue of yellow, spoke volumes of his life in the service of others.

  “Hi-ya’, Mist’a Goldstein. They told me to come on up here and tell y’all that they are ready for you and yours.” His head bobbled toward me. His teeth, jagged and unclean, danced with black spaces as he spoke.

  “Why thank you, Mr. Albright,” Max said as he shook the man’s hand. Not letting go, he pointed and introduced me. “I would like you to meet my girlfriend, Wilson.”

  “Hi-ya, Miss Wilson. Sure is my pleasure.” He lowered his head toward me.

  “Wilson, this is Mr. Albright. He is the most amazing mechanic. He can fix just about anything. Isn’t that right, Mr. Albright?” Max’s eyes danced. He looked at Mr. Albright with a child-like awe that swelled deep within his soul. I grabbed the man’s dry, cracked, grimy hand.

  Mr. Albright turned a shade darker. With a jack-o-lantern smile, he answered, “Aw, you’re too kind Mist’a Goldstein. Let’s just hope I keep your bird in the air, that’s ‘bout all I have to say abou’ that,” he chuckled as our hands continued to bounce between us.

  “It is nice to meet you, Mr. Albright,” I said.

  “Now, Miss Wilson, you can call me Bernie.”

  “Nice to meet you…Bernie,” I repeated.

  “Now you come on after me,” he said as he limped and hobbled back to a door with a sign on it that read Authorized Personnel Only.

  “Here’s the place. Miss Wilson, you have a nice flight and merry holidays.” Bernie held my hand and nodded at Max. “Mist’a Goldstein.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Albright. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me,” Max finished as he clutched Bernie’s hand, making sure not to let go until Bernie was going to take whatever money Max had trapped in their clutch.

  “Oh, no, I can’t take this.” Bernie’s eyes grew, swelling with magnifying tears.

  “I insist, you’ve made me very happy. Take your wife to a nice dinner,” Max pushed.

  Bernie kept shaking his head no. Max grabbed him at the shoulders and said, “If not for me, for Wilson—it would make her very happy.”

  The old, worn man looked past Max, meeting my eyes. He agreed.

  Max ran his fingers through his hair, straightening his appearance before opening the door to whatever waited for us outside.

  “Close your eyes,” he whispered before he grabbed my hand.

  “What if I fall?” My heart thrashed in agreement.

  “I won’t let you. Trust me.” He led me out into the sub-freezing temperatures of Denver, Colorado. Streaks of black and sparks of white danced in my blinded sight. My hair swirled around my face, causing stray strands to get stuck on my lips; my walk, unsure and very unstable. Max stopped, grabbed both my shoulders, and spun me to face where I was going to find the surprise for my birthday. Then his touch disappeared.

  “Max? Where are you?” I felt my heart speed up and perspiration seep from my skin.

  “Don’t worry, I’m right here,” he whispered in my ear.

  “Okay, open your eyes.”

  My eyes were wary, struggling to adjust and see what he had planned on my birthday. I was standing on the tarmac staring at a small, four-person helicopter. My life flashed before my eyes. Max turned back to me, and his eyes grew as he held his arms out. “Ta-dah! Surprise, we are going to Aspen by helicopter.”

  My mouth sped dry, my trachea shut, and I couldn’t speak. What did he just say? Helicopter? I’d never been in a flying glass death trap before. I wanted to be happy, but quite frankly, I was scared shitless. The teardrop body of the helicopter looked like it was made out of thin Plexiglas and the blades above looked droopy, burdened with the thought of our flight.


  “Max—umm, wow, I don’t know what to say, I umm…” I worked hard to find the words to tell him I was scared.

  Max’s face dropped straight. His lips curled down and his eyes lost their gloss of excitement. “I can rent a car—if this is too much? It’s not a big deal; I just thought it would be an exciting way to celebrate your eighteenth birthday.”

  As he wrapped his arms around me I could feel his need to make me feel loved on my birthday. It was his attempt to surprise me, and here I was letting my fear ruin a memorable moment.

  “No, you don’t need to rent a car—I love it.” The words lodged in my windpipe as I spoke. I tugged at his shirt, waiting for him to lead me over to the frightening bird. He didn’t move.

  “Are you sure you’re okay with this?” His hands swayed in the air toward the pilot and helicopter.

  I swallowed. “Yeah, Max, I am. Now come on, let’s get out of here.” I caught his hand and tried to pull him toward me. He smiled and yanked me back to his chest.

  “Happy Birthday, Wilson.” He leaned down and kissed me. His lips, sweetened by his words, were as reassuring as the sun’s warm beams on a brisk winter morning.

  Max brushed his lips across my forehead before leading me to the helicopter. I couldn’t believe he’d been able to pull this off. Little did he know that getting me into the death trap was going to be a whole separate challenge—he didn’t know how grippingly terrified I was of heights.

  It only took the helicopter pilot pulling his headphones up from around his neck and flicking switches to get my heart racing and my blood pumping violently through my body. I chanted—okay I screamed in my head—to myself to suck it up and quit being a baby. Max noticed and snatched my hand. Funny, he didn’t even react to the apparent dampness that accompanied my grip.

  The propellers struggled as they began to build the momentum they needed to lift us from the ground. The deafening whine of the motor and the thumping rhythm of the blades as they sliced through the thick Denver air were menacing. Max pulled on his headphones before pointing to the set that hung just above my head. I slipped them against my ears, working to make sure my hair was tucked behind the big cushy part that protected my hearing.