by Alexa Davis
She'd married my father the year after they'd graduated from high school. By that time, my father, George Martin, decided to join the Marines and my mother had accepted the fact that she would be a military wife, constantly moving from one place to another, never really setting down roots. She was seven months pregnant with me by the time my father left for basic training and was grateful that he'd gotten to come home and meet his newborn daughter before they shipped him overseas. She worried, but knew that my father was a tough man who would do everything in his power to make it back to his wife and infant daughter. Apparently, whatever my father was capable of wasn't enough because he died during a fire-fight in Fallujah just before my first birthday.
I don't remember the period after my father's death at all, except for one clear picture I have of being lifted up by my grandfather to place a small American flag on my father's casket. It might be that I remember that because the newspaper printed a picture of me doing it and my mother had it framed and hung it in the kitchen of our small apartment, but I prefer to think that I actually remember it.
After my father died, my mother took a job with a local real estate firm and worked as a secretary while she scrimped and saved enough to be able to put me through college. We didn't have a lot, but she always made sure we had enough to subscribe to National Geographic and every month when it arrived, she would cook a special dinner and we'd sit down together and learn about all the places in the world we'd never imagined existed. And, we'd dream about seeing them all.
One of my favorite weekend pastimes was to take the old National Geographic magazines and cut out the pictures of all the places I wanted to visit and then paste them into a spiral bound notebook my mother bought at the Dollar Store. By the time I entered high school, I had compiled six travel books and was actively looking for a job so that I could save the money necessary to be able to actually visit the places I dreamed about.
One afternoon on my way home from school, a cute boy from my English class pulled up beside me and asked me if I wanted a ride home. Unable to believe that he was talking to me, I shook my head and kept walking. He followed me until he realized that I wasn't going to speak and then he parked the car and got out and walked beside me. He carried on an entire conversation for the both of us as we walked back to the apartment complex where my mother and I lived.
He didn't ask if I wanted him to come upstairs, he just smiled and said, "Thanks for letting me walk you home, Emily. It was really nice. I hope you'll let me do it again."
I silently nodded and he smiled, touched the brim of his Yankees baseball cap, and turned to walk back to his car. It occurred to me later that I didn't even know his name.
The next day in English, I turned around to see him sitting behind me. He waved and smiled, but didn't make any overtures. I figured that he didn't want the other kids in our class to know he had talked to me, but after class he walked up with a big grin and said, 'Hi Emily! Can I walk you home again?" in front of a group of the popular kids, all of who stared at him in surprise.
I nodded and that began a daily ritual of him showing up wherever I was at the end of the day and asking if he could walk me home. It took me two weeks to ask his name, even though by then I knew it.
"Tommy Warner," he replied as he stuck out his hand for me to shake. "It's nice to meet you Emily Martin."
"Hi, Tommy," I replied. "It's really nice of you to walk me home."
If I live to be a hundred, I'll never forget the look on Tommy's face the day I finally spoke. It was one of awe and surprise, and when he finally spoke again, all he said was, "Thank you."
"Yo! Princess! Can you hear me?" Trish snapped her fingers across my face as she laughed and tugged at her cap. "Emily Warner, where are you?"
"Huh?" I shook my head as I came back to the lobby of the airport and then laughed a little as Trish huffed at me. "I'm sorry, I was...thinking."
"You seem to do a lot of that these days, Princess," she laughed. "You'd better get your head on straight before we get into first class or else you're going to have a mess of trouble on your hands. Those folks can be incredibly demanding!"
"Sorry, Trish," I said looking down at the floor.
"Hey, no need to get all weepy on me," she said in a concerned tone. "It's okay, I'm just trying to get you to toughen up so that you can stay in first class with me!"
"I know." I looked up at her with a grateful smile and shook my head.
"Things at home a little tough?" she said softly.
"Yeah, just a little," I nodded.
"They always are," she said. And then raised her voice as she wiggled her butt a little and sang, "That's why I am a single lady!"
"You're crazy, you know that, right?" I laughed. Trish was always good at lifting my spirits by doing something outrageous. Granted, wiggling her butt in a nearly deserted lobby at six in the morning wasn't highly outrageous, but the gesture was appreciated.
"C'mon, Princess," she said as she pushed her cap up yet again. "We've got a flight to catch! Race you!"
And with that, we set off race walking toward the terminal where we'd catch our flight to L.A. It was going to be a good day, after all.
Chapter Eleven
Austin
I knew the meeting was going to be trouble the minute I walked into the office and saw Johanna, the receptionist, rolling her eyes as she pointed to the conference room.
"They're in there," she said with another eye roll. "I ordered coffee and pastries, but they wanted to bring their own breakfast. Apparently food from Le Pain Quotidian isn't good enough for them."
"It's okay, Johanna," I smiled. "They're old school, you know, Brooklyn Bagels and such? It's hard for them to jump on board with the new stuff."
"Le Pain is hardly new," she scoffed.
"I know, but they're old guys," I smiled and waved toward the conference room.
"Rude old guys," she said pointedly.
"What happened now?" I asked.
"The usual," she huffed. "I've got an Ivy League degree, you know. Just because I also happen to work hard to maintain a nice body doesn't mean they have the right to treat me like a bimbo!"
"Crap, I'm sorry Johanna," I apologized. It pissed me off when the older guys thought that the company was still stuck in the Mad Men era of sexism and gender privilege and treated women so disrespectfully, but I also recognized that getting them out of their mindset probably exceeded my abilities as a boss or even a salesman. They were men's men and I had to carefully pick my battles, lest I lost the war.
I took a deep breath and then marched into the conference room calling, "Good morning, gentlemen! It's good of you to meet me this early!"
"Well, well, well, if it isn't the king of the hill here on time!" Daniel boomed as he walked around from where he stood at the head of the table and pumped my hand. "Gentlemen, our boss has arrived!"
I winced a bit as I shook the hands of the three men who had accompanied Daniel to the meeting, and then looked around and asked, "Do you guys have everything you need?"
"Oh yes," Daniel said. "The little cutie at the front desk tried to sell us on some kind of fancy schmancy breakfast bread or something, but we set her straight, didn't we boys? Only Brooklyn Bagels for us! Here, have one, boss!"
I cringed as he held out a bagel the size of my hand which was loaded with cream cheese, onions, smoked salmon, capers, and who knows what else. I shook my head. "Thanks, but I ate at the hotel."
"Aw, c'mon, what are you, a breakfast pussy?" he boomed as he held out the plate. I could tell that if I didn't give in on the bagel, the rest of the meeting wasn't going to go well at all. Give a little and then take a lot – a technique I’d learned from my mentor Jason Ruston.
I forced a laugh as I accepted the plate and then took a bite of the loaded bagel. In any other context, it would have been delicious, but here and now, it just tasted bitter. I washed it down with a sip of strong coffee knowing that I would appreciate the caffeine later when I had to drag myse
lf through a long flight.
"So, what can I do for you this fine morning, Daniel?" I asked trying to get right to business so that I wouldn't miss my flight.
"Ah, look at him, boys, just like his old man! All business!" He crowed as he looked around the room at the bobbing heads of his yes men.
"Seriously, though, I have to catch that flight to Sydney in an hour, so I want to make sure I can take care of everything you need," I said.
"That's good, Austin." Daniel's eyes narrowed as he spoke and I knew this wasn't going to be good. "Fix the problem with the Sydney crew. We don't need any disturbances on that project."
"That's my intention," I nodded. "How can I make things better for you?"
"For me? How can you make things better for me?" Daniel laughed. "You're always such a giver! Just like your old man!"
The constant references to my father were beginning to annoy me because I knew they were designed to dig at my authority, rather than complement my leadership strategy. I wanted to know what he wanted and then I wanted to get the hell out of there and get on the plane.
"Daniel, let's cut to the chase," I said, indicating goodwill with another bite from the bagel. "What do you want?"
"What I want, sonny boy," he said seriously. "What I want is the ability to open two new European casinos this year: one in Paris and one in Berlin. And, I want all of the expenses approved without all the hassle. I want to have them up and running by this time next year."
"Daniel, that's asking an awful lot to open not one, but two large casinos in major European cities," I began.
"Don't bullshit me, sonny," he growled as his eyes narrowed. "I've been in this business longer than you've been alive and I know what it takes to get a casino up and running. I also know that Berlin is ripe for the picking given the fact that there are only two very small casinos within the city limits. I want to build there and create a large Marks Hotel and Casino, and I want to do it soon."
"Daniel, I know you're enthusiastic about staring new projects, but that's going to take some work to secure permits from the authorities in Berlin, and you know how Germans are about their buildings," I said wondering what it was he really wanted.
"Oh bullshit, everyone has their price, and once they name it, we can pay and get started," he said, waving his hand in a dismissive manner.
"I think you know that it's a little more complicated than that," I said warily.
"Austin, I'm not going to say this again," he said in a menacing tone as he rested his elbows on the table and leaned forward in a pose that was a poor attempt at replicating Marlon Brando's godfather persona. "I want what I want. Get the permits, approve the funds, and let me build a casino in Berlin by this time next year."
"Or else what?" I asked.
"I can assure you that you do not want to know the answer to that particular question," Daniel said as he gave me a smile that did not reach his eyes.
I stared him back at him for a long time without looking away, and then said, "I'll get the finance guys to take a look at it and if it seems like a sound business proposition, I'll get the permits and you can start hiring the crews."
Daniel gave me a reptilian smile as he said, "I knew you'd see things my way. I told the boys that you would, didn't I boys?"
I looked around the room and saw necks exposed as heads bobbed in agreement, and I knew that navigating this particular trap would be tricky. I took one more bite of the bitter bagel and then asked, "Anything else?"
When no one answered, I got to my feet and held out a hand. "Good to see you, Daniel, as always."
"Oh bullshit, sonny boy," he responded with a laugh as he grabbed my hand and shook it hard.
I let go and walked out of the room, never turning my back on the vipers behind me.
Chapter Twelve
Emily
Trish and I hopped the short flight from Vegas to L.A., and booked it to our plane. We arrived just as the cockpit crew was boarding the plane and going through their pre-flight checklist. I waved at Senior Captain Jeffers and his co-pilot Flight Captain Morgan.
Trish and I exchanged looks when we saw who the crew was since we didn't usually have two captains on one flight. I shrugged and hauled my bag up into the overhead bin above first class, then grabbed Trish's bag and stored it beside mine before I latched the bin shut. There was something satisfying about being the first ones on the aircraft when it was calm and silent.
We quickly went to work checking all of the in flight service stations and making sure that the food and beverage carts were fully stocked. Trish had been flying first class for over a year and was well versed in prepping the area, so she ran through it with me pointing out all of the ins and outs of first class service and giving me tips on how to ensure that each passenger had exactly what they needed.
It was similar to what I'd been doing in the business section, and yet so very different. The first class cabin was so much roomier than business class and each seat had its own little pod that could be closed off from the rest of the cabin. In the center aisle, the pods could be separated or joined so that partners could travel and sleep together during the flight. My job was to ensure that everything a first class passenger could possibly ask for was there before they asked for it.
"Nothing like mind reading," I muttered to Trish as we prepped the beverage station with wine and beer.
"Oh c'mon, you're married, you should be an expert at this!" she laughed as I shot her a look that indicated I had no intention of responding to her remark. "What's wrong, Princess? Things not so good at home, eh?"
"Trish, that's the understatement of the century," I said quietly.
"Hey, I didn't mean to hit a sore spot," she replied as she patted my shoulder. "I was just teasing."
"I know, but it's going from bad to worse and I don't know what to do anymore," I admitted.
"Have you tried marriage counseling?" she asked as she opened cabinets and pulled out a stack of perfectly pressed linen napkins. "I've heard that it can be really helpful."
"Tommy won't go. He thinks that shrinks are for the weak," I said as we began folding the napkins into artful little designs that would be given to passengers before we served dinner. "Besides, he thinks that they'll just side with me and tell him how awful he is."
"Well, he's being pretty awful, isn't he?" she asked.
"I don't know, Trish," I sighed. "He used to be someone who was fun and happy and who had dreams. But now all he does is go to work and then come home and get drunk while he pretends to work on cars in the backyard. Last night, he and Billy stayed up drinking and playing music till who knows when. He didn't even wake up when I got out of bed."
"That's rough, sweetie," she agreed as she reached out and patted my hand.
"The truth is, I don't know about this anymore, Trish," I confessed. "I don't know if I even love him anymore. How horrible is that? The guy I've loved since I was fifteen, who I married and bought a house with, and now I don't know if I even love him."
"There are worse things, Princess," she said as a dark look flitted across her face. Trish had a past, but she never talked about it and I didn't feel like it was my place to ask questions about something she didn't willingly volunteer. "Lots worse things, I guarantee it."
I nodded and we folded in silence for a few minutes before I looked up and said, "Do you think it's possible that he's not the one I'm supposed to be with? I mean, is it possible that he was right when I was fifteen, but now we're not right for each other anymore?"
"Anything is possible, Princess," she smiled. "I've heard that there are people we're supposed to be with for short trips and then there are those who are supposed to last for the long haul. The trick is figuring out which is which and hanging on to the ones who belong on the long haul."
"Maybe I haven't found my long haul person yet?" I asked. "Or maybe I have and I just need to try harder to make sure he's strapped in and along for the ride."
"Only you can know that, darlin'," Trish sa
id thoughtfully. "But I have a theory about who belongs and who doesn't. I think that those who are short hop people add something, but it's something that's good, but not substantial. You know, kind of like sprinkles on ice cream?"
I laughed out loud. Only Trish could make an explanation like this into a discussion of ice cream toppings.
"While the long haul folks are more like the things that actually make the ice cream," she continued. "Like sugar, eggs, and cream. You know what I mean, right?"
I was laughing harder now, and somehow her explanation actually made sense in the mess that was my mind.
"But what do you do when you've been putting sprinkles on your ice cream for so long you forget how to eat it without them?" I asked as the tears began to well up in my eyes.
Trish thought about this for a moment, then patted my cheek and said, "You tell them that you really enjoyed the flavor, but that you need to branch out and try other things now. Besides, everyone knows that sprinkles are nothing more than sugar and eating too much of that just isn't good for you."
I smiled at Trish. As I dabbed my eyes with a tissue, she gave me a reassuring smile and a pat on the arm. Leave it to her to find a simple explanation for something that felt so utterly complicated.
Chapter Thirteen
Austin
The meeting with Daniel and his henchmen almost caused me to miss my flight, but they held the door and I raced onto the plane. I normally hated having my employees give me any kind of special treatment, but today was different. Today, I needed to be on the flight to Sydney or else there would be hell to pay.