When she and G.B. finally left the debriefing room, they were astonished to find hundreds of people waiting to see her, most of them refusing to be budged by airport employees. And many of them were airport employees. Suddenly everyone wanted to shake her hand.
“You seem surprised,” G.B. said as they tried to make their way through the crowd, shaking random hands thrust at them and smiling rather fixedly. “What, did you forget that literally everyone is walking around with a portable television studio these days?”
“Kind of,” she replied, blinking at all the cell phone lights. “Probably a bad day to wear shorts and my PILOTS: LOOKING DOWN AT PEOPLE SINCE 1903 T-shirt.”*
“Naw. Shirt’s the best part of this story. You wait and see.”
Eight
“It was the best part of the story,” Tom agreed.
“You’ve heard of the miracle on the Hudson? G.B. called it the unlikelihood in Salt Lake City.”
“Did you ever find out why you couldn’t deploy the landing gear?”
“The FAA guys found out that a circuit breaker popped. Nobody knows how, just that it would have happened after takeoff. Since they could use hydraulics to retract the gear, we didn’t know the breaker popped until we tried to direct to that system. They closed the breaker and poof! Landing gear worked. Well. As well as it could since the belly of the plane was scraped to shit.”
“I knew you weren’t telling me the truth.”
She nearly fell out of her chair. They’d moved from the bar to the back corner and the place was getting empty. “Excuse me?”
“You said ‘there’s really not that much to it,’ when there was a great deal to it.”
She shrugged. “Well. It was literally my job, so I can’t get too smug about it.”
“What happened to Captain Lewis?”
“Aneurysm. He’s on medical leave and getting a ton of physical therapy. They’re optimistic. I got a really nice card from his whole family.”
“And did you go out to dinner with First Officer Wilson?”
“Him and his husband. And his husband works for the local paper, so he was the first guy I gave an interview to.” It hadn’t been her favorite way to pass the time, but she did each and every one, knowing it was helping the company’s bottom line. “You can probably guess that after anything like this, the company’s bookings drop like a rock.”
“Unless there’s a personable, charismatic spokeswoman for them to flock around.”
“Yeah, or me. Heh. Get it? Too obvious?”
“Very much so.”
She smiled and looked down at the dregs of her Irish Shirley Temple, then back up. “Well.”
“It’s late.”
“Yeah.”
“And you have an early start tomorrow.”
“As a matter of fact, I do. But first this.” And then she leaned in and kissed him.
Nine
The impromptu kiss had promptly morphed into a good old-fashioned make-out session, complete with hickeys. They’d made it out of the bar and to his truck, because she’d decided walking/kissing/groping him to his truck would be the polite thing to do, and when she finally came up for air they were both breathing hard.
“Wow.”
“Agreed,” he said, smiling.
“I never do that.”
“That’s demonstrably untrue.”
She gave him a playful whap on the shoulder and her fingers promptly went numb. It had been like trying to smack a tree trunk. “No, really. But it’s been an odd day and a long one and you’re gorgeous and smart and a good listener, but now it’s time to go back to our lives and I’m really glad I met you but goodbye.”
His eyebrows arched. “You’re remarkably blunt, but charming enough to pull it off.”
“Thanks?”
“I assume you don’t live in Minnesota.”
Perish the goddamned thought. “Vegas.”
“Well. You have my card. If you’d like to get together the next time you’re passing through, please consider reaching out.”
Puzzled, she shook her head. “I don’t have your … wait.” She pulled a white business card out of her back pocket, then tucked it back—too dim in the parking lot to read, anyway, and it wasn’t like she planned on seeing him again. “Damn, that’s slick. I thought you were just grabbing my ass.”
“Multitasking,” he replied with a straight face, and she had to laugh. She heard a familiar buzz-whir and he produced his phone, unlocked it, looked at the screen. “Ah. My niece is wondering when I’ll be back. It’s ridiculous that she’s up this late.” At her expression, he asked, “Problem?”
“Nope. I didn’t know you had a niece, but why would I? We only met two—holy shit, we’ve been talking for three hours.”
“Time flies.”
“And so do I. But remember, I was already slipping out of your life before she texted you, so it’s nothing to do with her and everything to do with my emotional immaturity.”
“Blunt,” he said, leaning in for a chaste kiss on her cheek. “But charming.”
“Finally a title for my jazz ensemble,” she said, and that was the last she saw of him. Or so she truly thought at the time.
Ten
“Get up! I’m dying.”
Ava spat toothpaste into the sink, wiped her mouth, opened the door, recoiled. “Jesus.”
“Back atcha.” Dennis pushed past her and sat on the bed before his knees buckled. “I’m not gonna make it to lunch. Just so you know. I’ve updated my will and I’m leaving you nothing.”
Despite the chaos of his appearance, Ava was relieved to see him. She’d been staring at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, eyeing the hickeys Tom had planted on her throat and shaking her head. She looked like she’d been attacked by a friendly, toothless Burmese python. And remembering his pliant mouth and skilled hands (slipping that card into her pocket had been a neat trick—guy probably paid for college by picking pockets), how the two of them had taken turns playing the aggressor, how her heart was pounding so hard she was sure everyone within a mile of the parking lot could hear it, how she came this close to hauling his ass up the stairs and finding out if he tasted as good as he looked … ummmm. Nice guy, great bod, smart, wonderful kisser, demonstrably responsible if the niece was any indicator. So naturally she kicked him from her life as soon as she could. Why did she pull this shit? Was it simply a matter of—
“Get up! I’m dying.”
So, yeah, she’d been glad for the interruption. She’d pulled a high-necked sweater on to hide the worst of the hickeys and went to Dennis. However …
“You,” she said, staring at this pale, red-eyed, odiferous version of Dennis, “are barely cute right now.”
“I’m barely alive right now.”
“You’ve never looked worse. Well, maybe the morning after junior prom.” Memorable if for no other reason than it was the first and last time Dennis had spent the night drinking chocolate milk with tequila chasers.