Ghosts on a Plane

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Ghosts on a Plane Page 2

by M. L. Bullock


  And if a wannabe competitor tries to cut in, take him out. A smile crossed my face, just thinking about how easy stealing the Baker account from Fern and Rowe had been. That’s what happens when you neglect your customers, Pete. You lose, and then I cut your throat. Figuratively, of course.

  My cousin Timothy Blake had learned that lesson. After weeks of interviews and meetings with Thibodeaux, I’d won the prize. If he had gotten in my way, I might have taken him out. Also figuratively, of course. Ten million dollars was a lot of money, and I didn’t know Timothy Blake from Adam’s housecat. We might share some DNA markers, but we didn’t know one another. Since the decision appeared to be centered on our success in the business world, I won hands-down. If it had been necessary, I was more than capable of creating some sort of scandal to disqualify him.

  I was sure my cousin would have loved to throttle me about now, but our great-uncle hadn’t chosen him, had he? No, the late great Alistair Blake had chosen me to receive the family fortune, and like the Highlander, there could be only one. I had won the fortune; it was mine now and forever, for reasons that continued to baffle me.

  Don’t think about that, Heath. You won, and that’s all that matters.

  I’d walked out of the attorney’s office, practically jumping for joy. I left Thibodeaux to explain to Timothy that he’d not earned the right to claim the fortune, that I would receive it all. Every dollar of it. Now here I was, doing the last bit required: carrying the ancestral stones home to Rachel Island and placing the ancient markers on the property. I had no idea where they’d been or where they came from, though I assumed from our ancestral castle in England. I didn’t ask for details. By doing this simple task, I would receive the fortune.

  You know, if I were to think generously, I’d consider Rodney Thibodeaux more like a fairy godfather. His phone call had changed my life for the better. As I had for the past days, I looked for reasons to like him. I should, right? I supposed when you got as old as Mr. Thibodeaux, politeness and warmth might be a waste of time.

  I knew what I had to do next: make it back to Rachel Island with the crates, install the contents on the Blake property, and claim my inheritance. Seemed too easy a task for such an amazing prize, but if the old man had been willing to give away his fortune for that, who was I to argue? With a sigh of relief, I watched the baggage crew close the luggage compartment and skitter away on their golf cart.

  And that was that.

  Why was I sweating? My hands were dripping wet, and my forehead felt hot. Why in the world I had worn a suit today, I’ll never know, but it seemed the appropriate thing to do when inheriting ten million dollars. Maybe I should have saved the suit for the receivership signing and dressed casually today.

  Man, it was hot as hell in here. Must be my nerves.

  I slid off my jacket and folded it over my arm. This was not like me at all. I didn’t get nervous about things outside my control. In fact, some would call me a cool customer—specifically, my ex-girlfriend Claire. So hard to believe she was my ex now. At first, Claire had proudly told her friends that her new guy’s steely determination was hot, but she didn’t think that now. I’ll never forget one of the last things she said to me.

  “You have a rock where your heart should be, Heath. You’re like a damn robot! I can’t believe you think we can go on like this. You leave Ashley’s bed and roll into mine without even stopping to put your shoes on. You are going to have to make a choice!” It didn’t help that I mentioned that Ashley was her best friend, not mine. Major mistake on my part. I will always regret that.

  What did I care? I didn’t give a damn anymore. I had tried to explain to her that Ashley couldn’t handle a breakup now, that she had problems, but nobody listened to me. Oh well, water under the bridge. I had everything I needed, everything a thirty-year-old man could want. Money. A stately home. Property all over the world. A classic car collection that I couldn’t wait to get my hands on. Yeah, I had it all now.

  Everything except Claire.

  How ironic that the woman I would have married no longer wanted me. This was a first for me. Now that it was too late, I knew she’d been the one all along.

  I’d called her last week to tell her about my inheritance and attempt to return some of her personal items, her Hermes scarf and a bottle of perfume, but she didn’t want them or me. I didn’t know what I expected from her. We hadn’t been together in over six months and had only seen one another twice. Those accidental encounters had both been work-related. And both times, Claire made it clear that she wanted to get as far away from me as possible.

  On the flip side of that, Ashley called me constantly, offering to forgive me. For a month after our breakup, she left me daily voicemails that ran the gamut from scorned lover to supportive friend. I felt terrible at first, but that sympathy dissipated when she showed up at my workplace and hysterically aired my dirty laundry to a conference room of amused co-workers. Fortunately, I was a Blake, and it didn’t make much difference to them. They had a good laugh at my drama and didn’t bother to hide their amusement from Ashley. She hadn’t expected that.

  And then she had done the unthinkable. She went home and attempted suicide. Thankfully, she was still alive, but I refused to see her again after that.

  Her family obviously didn’t mind. “You shouldn’t cause her any further heartache,” they warned me, and I had no intention of doing so. I wanted nothing more to do with Ashley Dupont.

  “Mr. Blake,” a voice behind me said. I turned around to find a counter attendant who looked like a Scandinavian princess smiling at me. “You left your boarding pass.” Disappointing. I’d half-hoped she’d have a Norwegian accent.

  “Thank you, Antoinette,” I said with a smile as I read her name tag. “Tell me, will they serve drinks on this flight? I know it’s a short one.”

  “We’re going to take good care of you, Mr. Blake. I promise you that.” Ah, there was the hint of an accent. Just enough to thrill me. I smiled at her. I couldn’t help myself. Flirting and sales went hand in hand, even if I had nothing to sell but myself. She was a pretty woman with a great figure, despite her outdated hairstyle. Did women wear French twist updos anymore? She was a woman who liked the classic look. I could appreciate that, and it told me so much about her.

  “It looks like we’re boarding now, Mr. Blake. If you’ll follow me, I’ll make sure you get seated first.”

  “Call me Heath.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t do that. That would be unprofessional.” She winked and spun around on her red heels, leaving me to trail behind her with my crumpled suit coat over my arm.

  I can’t believe this is happening. With this flight, everything changes. When I land on Rachel island, it’s as good as done. I will officially be a multi-millionaire.

  With my head held high, I passed the other passengers impatiently waiting to be summoned on board. There weren’t as many as I expected, but I guessed not a lot of folks traveled to Rachel Island this time of year.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement, as if someone walked beside me. Startled, I sidestepped and glanced to my right, but there was no one there.

  Okay, Blake. Stop glitching out and get on that flight. No turning back now.

  Antoinette opened the door and waved me on to the bridge that led to an open door. “Here you are, sir. No turning back now,” she said with a pretty smile.

  Had I said that out loud? “What?”

  “Time to board, sir.”

  “Great, thank you.” With one last appreciative glance at her petite frame, I hustled down the walkway, ready to get this show on the road.

  No turning back now.

  3

  Starr Garcia

  “I thought we were in first class?” I complained to the air hostess or whatever the politically correct term was now. “I’m sure you meant to put us in first class, ma’am.” And it wasn’t a respectful “ma’am,” either. More like a reminder that I was her superior and it was her job to make me happ
y. I was Starr Garcia for Christ’s sake. I had a platinum album, and my song Take That was on everyone’s playlist. I wasn’t flying in coach. I was only on this godforsaken commercial flight in the first place because my late husband’s property was tied up in a ridiculous legal battle with my two bitter stepchildren.

  Kimmy and Tate weren’t going to make it easy for me to get my payday, but they couldn’t avoid it. I had the law on my side. The wife inherits, and we didn’t have a prenup. My lawyer assured me I had nothing to worry about.

  “This plane doesn’t have sections, Mrs. Garcia. It’s all first class. The curtained areas are for the flight service crews,” was her answer as she held open the overhead compartment for my purse. With an exasperated shrug, I kept my eyes averted and climbed into the seat near the window. I didn’t have anything to stow, as I damn sure wasn’t going to hand over my Gucci handbag to some sticky-fingered airline stewardess. My stepdaughter passed Antoinette her pink Hello Kitty backpack and plopped down beside me pouting. With a mournful look, she tried to hold my hand again, but I didn’t put down my cell phone. I didn’t have time for this kid. I’d held her hand in the airport terminal because the paparazzi could be unforgiving, but I didn’t see any photographers now. No sense in pretending I cared. Better to be honest with her than let her believe a lie.

  “Buckle up,” I commanded Sasha as I quickly shoved in my earbuds and allowed Tygre J’s voice to fill my mind and purr his way into my heart. Tygre J had such a way with lyrics, and the timbre of his voice made me feel things I hadn’t felt in years. Not since before I married Gray, but at least that nightmare was over. I wouldn’t have to endure his weekly pawing sessions and pretend to be a happy wife. I closed my eyes and smiled at the thought of wandering around that big old house by myself.

  It hadn’t been my idea to marry Gray. That had been my agent’s brilliant move, and my mom’s. But now I was rid of all three of them. Firing Tonya Kemp and my mom had been the smartest thing I’d ever done. Why had I waited so long, and why had I ever listened to either of them?

  Two years of hell. That’s what I’d endured. Two years of his snoring. Two years of constant criticism about everything from my hairstyle to my friends. In the beginning, Gray had seemed larger than life. I had to admit that back then, I hung on every word that fell from his lips. I too was awed by his musical and PR brilliance, but that quickly faded. Losing myself cost too much.

  What a stroke of luck! I never laid a hand on Gray. He’d managed to have that heart attack all by himself. There was no blood on my hands, not in the strictest sense of the word, but I’d been in no hurry to call an ambulance. I waited until he’d quit breathing before picking up the phone. That 911 operator had been so kind, so reassuring. Right on cue, I’d cried and begged for help. Weeks afterward, when the tape rolled on the news outlets, I was surprised at how sincere I sounded. At least I sounded like I cared, and that made me feel better. Everyone else apparently felt the same way. That was when the flowers and cards began showing up by the truckload. I’d sent most of that stuff to my agent’s office. Let her handle all that crap.

  I still couldn’t believe he was gone. The only thing left of him, besides his two pain-in-the-ass older children, was Sasha, the daughter of his late wife. Stupid cow overdosed on heroin years ago.

  I’d waited, and now I was free.

  A little bit of patience, girl…a little bit of waiting, girl…

  Sinking back into the seat, I lost myself in Tygre’s music. Sing it to me, Tygre J. You know how to do it.

  Sasha pulled on my jacket, and I huffed as I tugged the earbud out of my ear. “What now?”

  “I have to go to the bathroom,” she whined. Damn. I should have taken her when we were in the terminal, but it was too late now. The overhead seat belt light dinged on.

  “Can’t go now, sweetie. The plane is about to take off. You’ll have to hold it. Cross your legs and see if that helps.”

  My frown didn’t stop her from trying again. “I can’t wait, Starr. I have to pee. I have to go really bad.” Luminous tears shone in her big dark eyes as she rocked back and forth. They didn’t move me. No sense in arguing with her. I tucked my earbuds back in and tapped the sign above us with a shrug. She bit her lip, closed her eyes, and scrunched them up. And she did cross her legs. I’d forgotten this kid had to pee every ten minutes. I should never have let her have that soda.

  A little bit of patience, baby…a little bit of waiting, baby…

  My phone buzzed, and I looked down to check my text message. It was from Tygre! Before I could check it out, the plastic-looking hostess instructed me to turn off my phone. “Mrs. Garcia, you’ll have to power down your device until we’re at cruising altitude. Do you need anything?”

  “Nope.”

  I didn’t give a damn what she said. I waited for her to walk past and slipped the phone out of my jacket.

  What you do to me, girl. Thinking about you.

  A smile slid across my face. So like him to think of me just when I needed him. I’d wait a few minutes and text back. I felt my toes curl in my high-heeled boots. It’s not like I gave a crap about that airline chick, but making Tygre J wait for a reply from me was part of my plan. I couldn’t make this too easy for him. He had too many “easy” ladies around him already, and I refused to be another notch on his belt. Starr Garcia, no, make that Starr Tinsdale, since I was taking my maiden name back soon, would never be played like that. I never hooked up with fans. I never hooked up with fellow musicians or actor wannabes. I knew my value, but I wanted Tygre J. Him, I’d have. I slid the phone back into my jacket and hunkered down in the seat as the plane began to taxi.

  I felt Sasha staring at me. With another shrug, I turned my back to her and stared out the window to watch the pavement as the plane slowly turned around.

  In minutes, we’d be off the ground. And in about two hours, I’d be rid of Gray’s kid forever.

  I couldn’t understand why Kimmy and Tate didn’t want her either, but they’d made that clear at the reading of the will. It’s pretty bad when your own siblings don’t want you, but I refused to let that prick my heart. I had my own life to live now, and this kid didn’t have it so bad. Gray had left her millions, and that was a drop in the bucket compared to what I had coming. What was a ten-year-old going to do with millions? Buy some Pokémon? Sasha would stay with Gray’s sister while I toured, or so I told her, but my plans didn’t include her. One day I would have my own kids, and maybe then I’d invite her back, if only to help me while I toured with Tygre J. Yeah, that sounded nice.

  But for now, she had to go.

  I had a tiger to tame.

  4

  Gregory Lawless

  “Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in. You up for a quick ride to the island, Lawless? Then it’s up the coastline.”

  “Good morning, Desi. I see your vacation left you in high spirits.”

  “Speaking of spirits!”

  I could tell he was gearing up for his usual speech about drinking and flying, but as usual, he got it wrong. Drinking wasn’t my problem. I might smell like booze and cigarettes sometimes, but I hadn’t had a drink today. Not even at the casino last weekend. And for the record, a little bourbon every now and again never hurt anyone. Drinking wasn’t my problem.

  A light tap on the cockpit door surprised us both. A pretty face and soft voice greeted us. “Good morning, gentlemen. Do you need anything? Coffee or a soda, perhaps?”

  I eyed the new girl, but her hourglass figure didn’t excite me as it would have in my younger days. I could see Desi had other thoughts. As if he stood a chance. He might see a fine body and a pretty face, but I saw dollar signs. Yeah, she’d cost somebody big time if they fooled around with her. I knew the sort, and the airline had let me know in no uncertain terms that I’d be paying up next time someone complained. God’s honest truth, the one who complained had nothing to complain about. She’d been coming on to me, actually. I’d turned her down and ended up getti
ng summoned to the human resources department.

  “Uh, none for me, thanks. Janie not making this trip? I don’t remember seeing a staffing change on the board.”

  “Janie wasn’t up for work today. I hear she’s under the weather, Captain. I’m her temporary replacement. I think you’ll find me more than satisfactory. My name is Antoinette.” She stretched out her hand to me, and I shook it. Good Lord, where’d she keep those hands? In the ice machine? I flinched and withdrew my hand as quickly and politely as possible.

  “Hello, Antoinette. I’m Desi, and this block of stone is Gregory Lawless. I’ll take coffee if you have it made. Black, please.”

  “You’ve got it, sir. You sure I can’t get you something, Captain?”

  “No, thank you.”

  She left us alone, leaving a cloud of perfume behind. What was that? Gardenias? Not too many women wore floral perfumes anymore. My late wife, Veronica, loved wearing her rose perfume, the one we’d discovered on our honeymoon in Paris. Twenty years married, and she’d never changed perfumes or husbands. She’d forgiven me for my infidelity, and I loved her deeply, despite those philandering years. At least I had managed to keep my vows the last ten years of our marriage.

  “I’m surprised to see you flying today, Greg. I thought you were taking the whole week off.” Desi flipped switches and checked controls while I reached for the radio mic.

  “I got a call that they needed someone to pick up this flight. I was around, so I figured I might as well.”

 

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