Captain

by Lauren Rowe

  “Like what?”

  “Never mind.”

  “What?”

  “I’m gonna sound like Dax.”

  “Well, this I gotta hear.”

  I pause.

  “Come on, Bacardi,” she says. “You know I love Daxy the most. I won’t judge.”

  I close my eyes for a long moment, gearing up to say the most pussy-whipped thing I’ve ever said about a woman in my entire life. “I felt like I was reuniting with Samantha rather than meeting her for the first time. I felt like she was my long-lost love from another life.”

  Kat’s face morphs into an expression of pure compassion. “Wow.” She pauses. “That does sound like something Dax would say.” She hastily pulls out her phone. “In fact, I’m gonna text that little gem to Daxy right now. Fifty bucks says it goes straight into his next song.”

  “I’m not taking that bet. I’m done betting on anything ever again.”

  Kat begins tapping out her text.

  “Make sure to tell him to thank me when he wins the Grammy for Best Song.”

  “Goes without saying.”

  Jonas’ voice wafts through the air, drawing my attention to the game being played across the room. “Eight ball off the rail, ricochet off the two and into the side pocket.”

  “This, I gotta see,” I murmur. I stand to watch Jonas take his complicated shot, just in time to see him sink it (a feat that prompts Jonas’ new wife to throw her arms around his victorious neck and pepper his entire face with kisses).

  “I hate playing against you, Jonas,” Josh grumbles, followed by a long string of expletives.

  “Then stop playing against me,” Jonas shoots back.

  “So, hey, Ryan,” Kat says.

  I look down at her in her lounge chair.

  “Am I forgiven or are paybacks gonna be a bitch?”

  I pat her head. “There’s nothing to forgive, Jizz Master Flash,” I say. “Like I said, I’m the one who fucked up tonight. I have no one to blame for the fiasco of tonight but myself.”

  “Hey, Ryan, you want next game?” Josh asks from across the room. “Hopefully, you’ll have more luck beating Jonas than I just had.”

  “Nah,” I say. “I’ll just watch the slaughter from here.” I sit back down in my chair. “I’m too busy wallowing in self-pity to concentrate on pool.”

  “So tell us the rest of the story, Ryan,” Sarah says. “You never told us what happened after Samantha bolted.”

  “Nothing. That’s what’s causing my soul-searing pain. Samantha bolted when Olivia started calling me a ‘cheater’ and Samantha a ‘cunt,’ and by the time I made it outside after ever-so-politely telling Olivia to please fuck off, Samantha and her friend were already gone.” I swig my drink. “And you wanna hear the cherry on top of the shit-show-sundae? I never got Samantha’s phone number or last name, which means this incredible woman is out there somewhere, this woman I could totally imagine being the mother of my future babies, and she’s thinking I’m a lying, cheating scumbag-asshole, and there’s absolutely nothing I can do about it.”

  Everyone expresses some variation of sympathy for my situation.

  “Hmm,” Sarah says, her brow furrowed. But she doesn’t continue.

  “Oh, Sarah Cruz,” Josh says. “I know that ‘hmm.’ Are you thinking smart-girl thoughts over there?”

  “Maybe,” Sarah replies. She addresses me. “Did Samantha pay for her own drinks tonight, by any chance?”

  I look at her quizzically. “No, I paid.”

  “Dang it. Well, I mean, I’m glad you’re a chivalrous guy and all, but in this one instance, it would have been helpful if you were a cheap bastard. I was just thinking if Samantha had used her credit card to pay for a drink, maybe you could go down to The Pine Box and sweet-talk the bartender into telling you her last name from her credit card receipt.”

  “Boom,” Josh says. “And that’s why we call her Sarah Fucking Cruz.”

  “First time in my life I’m bummed not to be a cheap bastard,” I mutter.

  “I like the way you’re thinking, though,” Jonas says to Sarah. “Maybe you’re onto something.”

  “Probably not,” Sarah says, waving at the air dismissively. “Odds are high the bartender wouldn’t have given Ryan her last name, anyway—in this day and age, there’s too big a risk Ryan might turn out to be some kind of stalker-creeper.”

  “Yeah, but let’s keep going with this line of thinking,” Jonas says. “Let’s help Ryan find her.” He looks pointedly at his brother. “Josh, why not bring in the big guns to help a brother out?”

  At that, Sarah and Kat erupt with enthusiasm for Jonas’ idea, whatever it is.

  “It’s a long shot,” Josh cautions. “Henn’s a fucking genius, but he can’t turn water into wine.”

  “Henn?” I ask.

  Josh proceeds to tell me he’s got a hacker-buddy from college named Peter Hennessy who’s apparently “freakishly talented at tracking people down,” oftentimes based on “the tiniest shards of information.” “Just ask Jonas,” Josh explains. “Henn found Sarah for him when Jonas had nothing to go on but her first name and an anonymous email.”

  I look at Jonas and Sarah, expecting them to elaborate on that intriguing bit of information, but they don’t say a peep. “Why’d Jonas have only Sarah’s first name and an anonymous email?” I ask, my curiosity too great to resist. “Did you two meet on hot-girls-dot-com or what?”

  I meant the latter question as a stupid joke, of course (Sarah’s a law student, for cryin’ out loud, and Jonas is a highly respected businessman in Seattle), but the minute I see the look of absolute mortification on Sarah’s face, I know I’ve hit a nerve somehow.

  I press my lips together, not quite sure how to backtrack from the awkward moment.

  “Sarah and I met through a high-end online dating service,” Jonas says smoothly, sliding his arm protectively around his wife’s waist. “Sarah worked at the service processing applications, and I applied—and when she read my application (and the plethora of arrogant statements I’d made therein), she took it upon herself to send me an anonymous email that set me straight about a few important things.” He squeezes Sarah and kisses her temple.

  Sarah grins. “And the reason I sent Jonas my email anonymously was that it was against the company’s rules for intake agents to contact clients. And then Jonas called me out of the blue and asked me out to dinner—even though I’d told him only my first name and used a dummy G-mail account.”

  “And that’s all thanks to Henn getting her phone number for me,” Jonas adds. He looks at Sarah, a huge smile on his face, his eyes blazing. “I’d read Sarah’s email and felt like my very life depended on finding her. It was crazy to track her down based on nothing but her email, but I felt like I had no choice in the matter.”

  Goose bumps erupt all over my arms and back of my neck. Holy shit. Jonas just perfectly articulated exactly how I’m feeling right now—like I have no choice but to find Samantha and explain that everything Olivia said about me (including what she said about me soliciting that note from the blonde in the restaurant earlier tonight) was complete and total bullshit.

  “I’d never felt anything like the madness that overtook me,” Jonas continues. “It felt dangerously close to obsession.” He chuckles. “Okay, that was bullshit—I’m trying to make myself sound semi-normal. It was obsession. Total and complete.”

  Everyone laughs.

  “I felt this indescribable connection to Sarah, just that fast,” Jonas adds. “It was like nothing I’d felt before—and yet, I didn’t even know Sarah’s last name, where she lived, what she looked like, or anything whatsoever about her, other than the few clues she’d unwittingly provided me in her email. So that’s when I called Josh and asked for his help.”

  “Because I’m wise and powerful,” Josh interjects.

  “Because he’s wise and powerful,” Jonas dryly echoes. “And he ‘wisely and powerfully’ called his college buddy Henn, thank God—and the
rest, as they say”—Jonas holds up his hand, displaying the wedding band on his finger—“is history.”

  Holy fuck, I feel like my heart’s gonna explode. It seems I’ve met two soulmates tonight: Samantha and Jonas Faraday. “Thanks for telling me all that, Jonas,” I say. “You seriously just gave me chills.”

  “Me, too,” Sarah says, flashing an adoring smile at her husband.

  “I can’t believe you were that determined to find Sarah based on nothing but an email,” I say.

  Jonas smirks. “It was one hell of an email.”

  Sarah laughs.

  I can’t help but laugh with Sarah. Damn. All these years, I always suspected buttoned-up Sarah Cruz was a little vixen behind closed doors—I could just sense it. And now, Jonas’ story all but confirms it. Ha! “But weren’t you at least a little skittish about tracking Sarah down when you hadn’t even laid eyes on her?” I ask Jonas.

  “Nope,” Jonas says. “Like I said, I was instantly obsessed. I knew my reaction was totally irrational, but I didn’t care. I hadn’t seen Sarah with my physical eyes, but I’d seen her with my soul, which I personally consider to be a much more reliable information-gathering mechanism than my physical senses.”

  Whoa. I glance at Josh for his reaction to that statement, and Josh flashes me a smile that plainly says, “Meet Jonas Faraday.”

  Jonas continues, “And before you think I’m some kind of saint who doesn’t care about physical attraction, I did wind up seeing a photo of Sarah before our first date—a photo Henn retrieved for me from her student file.” Jonas looks at Sarah and smiles. “And my physical eyes were beyond thrilled with what they were seeing, right along with my soul.”

  Sarah slides her hand into Jonas’ and rests her cheek on his shoulder.

  I bite the inside of my cheek, letting everything Jonas just said sink in.

  “So, Ryan,” Josh says, drawing my attention to him. “I think what Jonas is trying to say in his very unique way—and, please, bro, correct me if I’m wrong here—is that he gets where you’re coming from.”

  Everyone laughs.

  “That is correct, sir,” Jonas says.

  “So if you wanna give Henn a call and see if maybe he can help you out,” Josh continues, “we’ll hook you up.”

  “I’d love it,” I say, my heart lurching into my throat. “Although I don’t see how your friend could possibly track Samantha down. Unlike Jonas, I don’t have an email or any other kind of online activity for Henn to trace.”

  “I don’t think he’d necessarily need that,” Sarah says. “Right, Josh? Henny tracked down Oksana the Pimpstress for me without an email address, remember?”

  “Yeah, but only because you’d figured out all those great leads for him to follow, thanks to your friend at the post office,” Josh says.

  Whoa. I’m totally confused. What the fuck are these people talking about?

  “Good point,” Sarah says. “Well, then, I guess we’ll just have to figure out some leads for Henn to follow here, too. A little brainstorming and we’ll probably have a whole list of leads.” She looks at me. “You game to try a little brainstorming to find your flight attendant, Ryan?”

  “Of course,” I say, even though I’m not quite sure what the hell good it will do. “Thanks.”

  The four of us drag chairs around poor, pathetic Kat and ready ourselves to “brainstorm.”

  “Okay, first things first,” Sarah says, her tone all business. “Did Samantha mention her age?”

  My pulse quickens slightly. “Twenty-seven.”

  Sarah beams a full smile at me. “Now see? Two seconds of brainstorming and we’ve already drastically narrowed the field of flight attendants named Samantha.”

  “Well, assuming that’s Samantha’s actual age,” Jonas chimes in. “Common wisdom is that men lie about their height and women lie about their age.”

  “Samantha wasn’t lying about her age,” I say confidently. “Or anything else, for that matter. That’s what I liked about her the most: she doesn’t have a bullshit-bone in her body.”

  “My kind of girl,” Jonas says. He winks at Sarah.

  “Yeah, mine, too,” Josh says dryly, barely able to keep himself from cracking up. “Gotta love a woman who doesn’t have a bullshit-bone in her body.”

  “Consider yourself punched,” Kat says weakly, her head lolling to the side.

  Josh grabs Kat’s limp hand. “Aw, babe, I adore your bullshit-bone along with every other gorgeous bone in your body. You know that. I’m all-in, PG.”

  Kat smiles weakly, apparently satisfied with that explanation. “Yeah, I know, PB.”

  Inexplicably, my heart has begun clanging with excitement. Could this really work? “I don’t know if it helps at all,” I say, “but Samantha also said she’s a Virgo.”

  “Fabulous,” Sarah says. “Now we’ve got a thirty-day window for Samantha’s date of birth. You never know what information Henn might find useful when he’s poking around.”

  “But poking around where?” Josh says. “That’s the question. It’s not like there’s some centralized database cataloging all humans by first name, age, and occupation.”

  Sarah’s face lights up. “Her employer, then.”

  “Precisely,” Jonas says.

  Sarah looks at me. “Ryan, did Samantha say which airline she works for?”

  My shoulders slump. “No. We didn’t talk about our jobs at all. It was refreshing, actually.”

  Josh’s phone buzzes and he looks at it. “It’s Henn, replying to my text. He says for us to call him in thirty minutes. He’s gotta finish something and then he says he’ll be happy to talk to us.”

  “Great,” Sarah says, clearly energized. “Hmm. I gotta think, even if Samantha didn’t identify her airline, she probably said something from which we could deduce it.”

  “Like what?” I ask.

  “Like, I dunno, maybe she mentioned her regular route? Or what time her usual flight departs or arrives? I’m grasping at straws here, I know, but I think figuring out Samantha’s employer is our best shot at tracking her down.”

  “I agree,” Josh says. “Henn’s got to have somewhere specific to target or it’ll be like shooting a flare gun into outer space.”

  I think for a moment. “Well, she mentioned she flies out of L.A.,” I say tentatively. But there’s something else, something much more important, niggling at my brain. But I can’t... Boom. All of a sudden, my brain clicks into place. “She was wearing a scarf around her neck as part of her uniform,” I blurt, excitement flooding me. “And it had a pattern on it.” I close my eyes, trying to visualize it. “Little red triangles—I think it was a logo.”

  “Brilliant.” Sarah pulls out her phone and searches for a moment, scrunching her nose adorably as she does. “Were the triangles like this?” she asks, shoving her phone under my nose.

  “Maybe. I don’t know.”

  “Hang on.” Sarah swipes at something on her phone. “How about this?”

  “Yes!” I say, adrenaline flooding me in a torrent. “That’s it!”

  “Holy crappola!” Sarah exclaims. “Oh my God. Look.” She holds up her arm to show me that her tiny hairs are standing on end. “Goose bumps!”

  Kat chuckles. “You’re such a little badass, Sarah.”

  “Great work, baby,” Jonas adds.

  “Sarah Fucking Cruz,” Josh says.

  Sarah’s eyes are on fire. “Kerzoinks, guys, I think this is gonna work.” She lets out an excited breath. “Okay, so here’s what we know so far: Samantha is a twenty-seven-year-old Virgo flight attendant who works for Delta Airlines out of L.A. That’s a shit-ton of breadcrumbs for Henn to follow, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Enough breadcrumbs to lead him straight to Ryan’s doorstep, I’d imagine,” Jonas says.

  “You’ll forever be my George Clooney, Sarah Cruz,” Josh says adoringly.

  Kat begins to mumble something about us going “Ocean’s Eleven” on Samantha’s ass, but mid-sentence, she ab
ruptly stops talking, clamps her hand over her mouth, leaps up from her chair, and careens out of the room.

  Josh stands slowly, rubbing his face. “That’s my cue, guys. Poor Kat. I’m sure she’s gonna be down for the count tonight. Jonas, do me a favor and set the alarm on your way out, okay, bro?”

  “Sure thing.”

  “You’ve got Henn’s number?” Josh asks.

  “Yup. We’ll call him in fifteen. Go tend to Kat.”

  “Yeah, I gotta lie down with her. When Kat’s feeling really shitty like this, she likes me to rub her back and sing James Bay to her ’til she falls asleep.” He looks at me. “Will I see you at the grand opening party for Climb & Conquer next week?”

  “Wouldn’t miss it,” I say, bro-hugging him. “Thanks for taking such good care of my little sister.” I lower my voice to a whisper. “And, hey, have fun ring-shopping with my mom tomorrow.”

  “Oh, Momma Lou told you about that, did she?”

  “She hasn’t stopped talking about it. She’s a wee bit excited.”

  “So am I. God willing, Kat will say yes.”

  We all reassure Josh that Kat will most definitely say yes—“duh” is how Sarah puts it—and Josh leaves to help Kat.

  “Back to brainstorming,” Sarah says, settling back into her chair. “Did Samantha mention her ethnic background?”

  “She said she was born and raised in L.A., but that her dad’s from Argentina.”

  “Oooh,” Sarah says. “I bet Samantha’s really beautiful, then. Every single Argentinian woman I’ve ever met has been stunningly beautiful.”

  “Yeah, that’s exactly the word for Samantha,” I say. “Stunning. She took my breath away the minute I saw her.”

  Sarah nudges Jonas on the shoulder. “Hey, isn’t Theresa’s family from Argentina?”

  “Yeah, she’s the one who recommended Josh take Kat to Buenos Aires, remember?”

  “Well, there you go,” Sarah says. “Like I said, Argentinian women are all stunning.”

  “Who’s Theresa?” I ask.

  “Josh’s personal assistant,” Sarah says. “Theresa Rodriguez.”

  “Also known as T-Rod,” Jonas adds. “She runs Josh’s life.”