When her car pulls up, my heart starts to beat a little faster. I nervously play with my cufflinks. I’m wearing a button-down shirt, a gray tie and matching charcoal-gray pants. I brush my fingers through the back of my hair – I just got a new haircut, and I feel a little naked now. It’s a bit too short for comfort.
After a month away in cold and perpetually overcast Washington D.C, my tan has faded a bit. This must be remedied ASAP. My body is starved for sunlight, warmth and Avery. I glance down at my phone absent-mindedly, listening for her footsteps going up the plane.
“Ms. Lewis? My name is Kim, and I will be your flight attendant this evening,” Kim introduces herself.
“Oh please call me Avery,” I hear her say. “Is Logan here?”
“Avery,” I say, walking up to her. I put my arms around her and give her a warm hug. I can feel how fast her heart is beating through her dress. After pulling away, I kiss her. Her lips are soft and responsive, but after a month apart, the kiss is rather chaste. Both of us are keenly aware of Kim’s presence.
I show her to the seat across from me. She’s wearing a short grey dress with long sleeves. Her legs are toned and bronzed and adorned with red heels, which match her nail polish and lips perfectly.
“I’ve missed you,” I say quietly.
“I’ve missed you too,” she says. I’ve completely forgotten that when Avery smiles, she smiles with her whole body. I want to grab her, pull her close to me and kiss her properly, but I restrain myself.
“Wow, this plane is beautiful,” Avery says, looking around. “Are we the only ones going on this flight?”
“That’s the best thing about private planes. You don’t have to travel with anyone you don’t want to.”
Her hazel eyes sparkle in the light.
“Is this real leather?”
I nod.
“What can I make you to drink?” Kim’s comes over. She’s leggy, with large breasts and very easy on the eyes. She’s my perfect type, but I’ve never made a move. I don’t sleep with the help. This wasn’t always my policy. Last year, I made the mistake of sleeping with my old flight attendant, Cherry – that was actually her name! – and when I got bored, I had to pay her a pretty extensive severance package to get rid of her. I couldn’t very well bring dates on my private plane with my ex-hook up serving us drinks.
“I’ll have a dry martini, well, you know how I like it. And you?” I turn to Avery.
She’s staring at Kim’s cleavage. I don’t blame her. Her breasts are more than a little mesmerizing.
“I’ll have a sangria. If you have the ingredients.”
“Oh yes, of course,” Kim smiles. Kim’s the ultimate professional even if she doesn’t really dress like one.
“She’s very pretty,” Avery says disapprovingly.
“Yes, she is,” I say, “but not as pretty as you.”
Avery rolls her eyes, as if she doesn’t believe me. Her self-esteem is something that I’m really going to have to work on. The only unattractive thing about her is her lack of confidence.
“So how was work?” she asks.
I sigh, looking away into the distance.
“Tiring,” I say. “Boring. Not very interesting.”
I don’t know how else to describe what happened over the last month. I’ve participated in more tests and training than I ever care to again. I’ve never been through anything that exhausting before, not even when I just started. I guess they know that my contract is expiring and there’s no way in hell I’m going to re-up. So they decided to drain me completely – emotionally, physically, and mentally. I don’t really understand the rationale though. Wouldn’t you want your agents to go out into the field, on very dangerous missions, well-rested and in full control of their faculties? All those analysts and scientists and they don’t know the first thing about being a human being.
Kim brings us our drinks and disappears.
“Wow, this is so good,” Avery says, taking a sip of her sangria, following it up with a big gulp.
My martini also goes down nicely. In addition to all the annoying tests, I also haven’t had a drink in a month. This one both exhilarates and relaxes me.
“Are you looking forward to the wedding?” she asks.
“Not as much as I’m looking forward to doing some of those things we talked about over text.”
Avery blushes, looking away. Was that a bit too far? I scrutinize her face for signs. No. She likes it. She’s trying to pretend that she doesn’t, but I can see that she does.
* * *
A couple hours later, we land in Tulum, Mexico. The nearest commercial airport is in Cancun, about two hours away by car. Here’s yet another perk of flying private. We step off the plane. The air is thick with moisture. My eyes, which often get dry in California, feel satiated.
“Oh wow,” Avery says, inhaling the world around her. “The air smells like the ocean, doesn’t it?”
I take a deep breath. A thick aroma of salt and flowers overpower my senses. The starchiness of my collar lets go a little, relaxing under the humidity.
“I feel like a movie star in the 60’s,” Avery whispers as we walk down the stair ramp. “Not many of them get off planes like this anymore, do they?”
I smile and wink at her.
“In that dress, you could pass for a movie star anywhere.”
She blushes and stumbles a little.
The airport faces the Caribbean, and far in the distance, I see its unforgettable blueness calling to me. I’ve always loved the Caribbean. The Pacific has its charms, but the water there is cold and unwelcoming in comparison to the Caribbean. Right now, I wonder why I still live in Malibu at all. I could live anywhere I want. We’re not anywhere near the beach, but the Caribbean is definitely making quite an argument. I wonder what Avery would think of that?
Shit. Did I just really think this? We’ve had two dates. This weekend is technically only our third. And yet, the closeness that I feel toward her is unlike anything I felt for anyone else. I crave her. Want her. I feel myself becoming needy around her. You know what? Fuck Dolly. Why the hell did she have to introduce me to this marvelous creature? I was fine going through life a bachelor. I was fine with my life the way it was before. Basically one endless fuck fest interrupted by a few nice dinners and a couple of three-martini lunches.
“Are you okay?” Avery asks. I must’ve blanked out. I don’t remember the last thing I said.
“Yep, fine. Just taking it all in.”
“If this is the airport, I can’t imagine what the rest looks like,” she says looking around. We landed on a small runway surrounded by thick jungle on both sides. To make the airport, they literally cut a strip away in the green.
“What is that sound?” Avery asks.
“Which one?”
Everything around buzzes with life. There are ibises walking around and crickets and other insects singing on top of their voices. Southern California is by all accounts a desert and, though there’s a lot of life in the desert, it doesn’t buzz, thrive or thump all around. There are insects and bugs, but they don’t make their presence known loudly. Not like here.
A car is already waiting for us. The driver carries our bags and places them carefully in the trunk.
“You have quite a lifestyle here,” Avery says.
“Oh, you like what you see?”
“Of course, who wouldn’t? First class is definitely the way to go.”
“I have a secret to share with you,” I say, putting my around her shoulders and giving her a small peck on the cheek. “This is better than first class.”
She shakes her head and bursts out in a sexy little laugh.
“The cockiness that comes with it does leave much to be desired,” she says.
“I’m not so sure you believe that,” I say, laughing. I grab her waist and tickle her until she admits defeat.
Chapter 18 - Avery
After checking into a deluxe waterfront suite at the Jashita Hotel in Tulum, I
freshen up, change and hurry downstairs to Liam and Kora’s rehearsal dinner. Logan, the best man, went downstairs earlier to participate in the rehearsal. Our suite is large and spacious and has everything you could ever want – even a private terrace with an outside shower! I peel off my travel clothes and wrap myself in the hotel-provided robe made of the finest Italian linen. The view of the Caribbean from the terrace is breathtaking. We are steps from the whitest beach I’ve ever walked on. Before I start getting ready, I spend a good half an hour lounging in the Mayan hammock on the terrace, listening to the waves calmly crashing into the sand.
Makeup and hair are a little bit of a challenge here. The humidity in the air makes my face a little too shiny and makes my makeup run a little. My hair, which is typically razor straight and fine, has suddenly found some body and decided to curl up in all directions, looking unruly and completely out of control. After I take care of these problems, I pull out the dress that I got exactly for this trip. It cost $250, on sale – way too much – but I wanted to look perfect both nights.
The dress is a Draper James original, Reece Witherspoon’s new clothing company. It’s the color of a Louisiana lilac, powder blue, and it’s a gorgeous striped and printed organza with silk lining. It’s sleeveless with a delicate slit down the front and comes with a thin white belt, which perfectly cinches the waistline. The way it flares out a little bit at the hips perfectly complements my figure and hides all the flaws. After putting together my whole look, I glance at myself in the mirror one last time. I look good. Put together. Classy. Sophisticated. With a touch of fun.
The rehearsal dinner is held downstairs on the patio. A soft Caribbean breeze from the ocean caresses the guests with kisses, and I thank God that I decided to use hairspray in my hair before I left.
I see Logan across the patio, chatting with his brother. He waves me over. He is dressed in a sharp linen suit with light brown loafers and no socks. The drink he’s holding in his hand is almost empty, and his demeanor is relaxed.
“What a beautiful party,” I say coming over to them, and giving Liam a brief hug. “Thank you very much for inviting me.”
“Thank you for coming. Did you get a drink?” he asks.
“No, not yet.”
Just as I say that, a waiter appears as if out nowhere and offers me the dinner’s signature cocktail – watermelon vodka martini. It’s smooth and refreshing and puts me in an even more vacation mood.
“How do you like you room?” Kora asks, giving me a brief hug.
“Oh my God, it’s amazing!” I gush. She laughs.
“I know, right?”
The rehearsal dinner apparently went really well, and Kora hardly seems nervous at all about tomorrow.
“Honestly, I don’t know how you’re holding up,” I say as the guys move away from us, chatting about golf. “I’d be such a wreck.”
“I don’t know,” Kora shrugs. She’s wearing a bright blue wrap dress, which brings out her eyes. “I think that I’ve been waiting for this so long that I’m just super happy that it’s finally happening.”
“Have you been getting any sleep?”
“A lot, actually. I don’t know if you know, but Logan’s paying for this whole thing, and he insisted on hiring us a wedding planner. She has been a lifesaver. She knows exactly what to do and how to do it. She presents me with just a few choices and I pick one. She’s really a relief. If we didn’t have her…this whole thing would take over my life for a year.”
I smile. I had no idea that Logan was paying for this – very generous indeed. Especially for someone who doesn’t seem to be particularly keen on the whole idea of marriage.
“I’m so glad that everything’s working out,” I say, and can’t help but give her a hug. For some reason, I feel a strange connection to Kora. We don’t really have anything in common, and yet I feel like she’s a kindred spirit. Someone who I just get innately, regardless of how long we have known each other for.
* * *
For dinner, all the guests are served with their own freshly-caught lobster on a bed of rice and spices, and we’re treated to a slideshow of the bride and groom and their families and friends through the years. Logan appears in a number of these pictures – there’s the freckled six-year-old, the smart-mouthed eleven-year-old, the cocky seventeen-year-old. There are pictures of Logan’s mom and dad, Liam and their three sisters, who I’ve only met briefly during cocktails, because they were too busy running after their husbands and kids. I don’t mind. This is only our third date.
After the slideshow, while I’m still digging into my lightly buttered and utterly delicious lobster, Logan gets up and gives another touching and eloquent speech. This time, he talks about how much Liam means to him and how he would not be the person that he is today were it not for his brother. Most of the women in the audience tear up, including me.
“Are you okay?” he asks afterwards, as he sits down next to me.
“Yes,” I nod, wiping a tear. I hate when I get this sentimental, but words make a big impact on me. “That was just so sweet, what you said.”
Logan smiles and puts his arm around me, giving me a brief squeeze.
“No, you’re the one who’s sweet,” he says.
Waiters come around with the dessert: cheesecake served with an assortment of local fruit – mangos, pineapple, star fruit, and bananas. The combination of tart and sweetness sends shivers down my spine, and I finish two whole slices before I’m able to stop myself.
Logan’s phone beeps. When he looks at it, he gets a concerned look on his face. He excuses himself and goes out onto the patio.
As I contemplate whether or not I should go get yet another slice of that wonderful cheesecake, I catch Sadie talking and laughing somewhere in the background. She looks just as stunning as the last time I saw her. She’s dressed in an incredibly short satin dress, with delicate straps. It looks like lingerie, and it doesn’t look like she’s even wearing a bra. Despite that, her breasts are perfectly framed and erect. Why does she have to be Logan’s ex? I think to myself. Of all people, why does the mother of his future child have to be so perfect?
If whether or not I had another slice of the cheesecake was a question before, it’s not anymore. I feel crappy about myself, and I only know of one way to drown that sorrow.
Kora catches my arm right before I get to the dessert table.
“Hey, come here. I have to tell you something,” she whispers under her breath. I follow her to a dark corner of the room, away from everyone.
“I just heard from Dolly that Sadie’s had a miscarriage,” she says with excitement. “I’m sorry, I know it’s terrible that I’m so excited, but I just really didn’t like that woman and couldn’t imagine her being the mother of my niece or nephew.”
“She had a miscarriage?” I ask slowly, trying to grasp what that really means.
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
“She told Dolly herself. I think she’s going to tell Logan tonight.”
“Oh wow,” I mumble.
“C’mon, aren’t you excited? Please smile or something, so I don’t feel like such a horrible person.”
I smile. It’s genuine. I am actually happy.
“Okay, good,” Kora gives me a brief hug.
“How is she feeling?”
“Who? Sadie?”
I nod.
“Fine, I guess. I mean she looks like she’s having fun.”
We both glance in her general direction. She’s draped around an older gentleman and laughing at every single thing he says as if he’s the funniest comedian on earth.
“Yeah, she does seem fine,” I say. Kora takes a step back, staring at me.
“Where the hell did Dolly find you?” she asks.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean you are way, way, too good for Logan. I love him to death. But you’re way too good for him.”
“I am not,” I say, shyly.
“Let me tell you this, unles
s he has changed tremendously in the month that you’ve known each other, you need to be careful. Logan likes the ladies. He has never had a serious relationship in his whole life, for crying out loud.”
“I don’t think you’re being very nice,” I say, suddenly feeling very protective of Logan.
“I’m sure that he’ll agree with me,” Kora says, crossing her arms across her chest. “Wouldn’t you Logan?”
I turn and see him standing directly behind me.
“Agree with you on what?” Logan wraps his hands around my waist.
“I was just telling your girl, Avery, here that she’s too good for you.”
“And I was trying to convince her that I’m not,” I say looking up at him.
“Oh no,” he shakes his head definitively. “You’re definitely too good for me.”
He kisses me on the cheek.
“See?” Kora says and walks away.
Chapter 19 - Logan
My other phone beeps during dessert. As I reach for it, I’m grateful that Avery doesn’t know me well enough to know that this isn’t my usual phone. It’s a text from Truman.
Call me.
I excuse myself and go out onto the patio. There are a few couples here, smoking and drinking and kissing, but it’s a little bit more private than the dining room. When Truman picks up, he starts talking right away. I don’t even get the chance to say hello.
“Sanchez’s yacht will be off the coast of Playa del Carmen tomorrow night. I’ll send you the exact coordinates later.”
I do the math in my head. I need to leave the wedding by 2 a.m, at the latest. The plan is to take a speedboat most of the way and then paddle a dinghy the rest – so that his bodyguards don’t hear me.
“He’s hosting a birthday party for his niece and, from what we know, he’s not coming ashore. The job is to do this quietly. Make it look like an accident, if possible. Do not take care of anyone else.”
I clench my fists. Why does Truman feel the necessity to tell me this? I’m not one of his rogue agents who takes innocent civilians out left and right. In fact, I’ve gotten reprimanded for not taking shots when I should have just because innocent people were present.
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