“A rake? Did you get a historical romance submission?”
“Hey, it’s a good word.” I didn’t admit to having actually purchased a historical romance.
“So you think a fake boyfriend will fix all this?” He crumpled his wrapper and neatly stacked his trash in the little plastic basket, then wiped the crumbs from the table into his hand.
“Well, that wasn’t the original plan. I was just going to go alone and hope for the best. But in a moment of stupidity I told my sister, Maisy, I was bringing someone. I have no idea what I was thinking. I just wanted Mom off my back.” In thirty years, it hadn’t mattered if I’d done exactly as she’d wanted; she always found something to complain about. Even taking a boyfriend to Hawaii, she’d complain that we weren’t engaged. We had a week of forced family fun coming up, so avoiding her wasn’t an option.
“Well, I hope it works.” Grant stacked my trash on top of his and took our trays to the garbage can.
“I’ll see if I can exchange my first-class ticket for two business-class. Our flight leaves at 5am. I’ll pick you up at 2:00. Don’t forget to pack a couple suits.” The sun was out, and I slipped on my sunglasses, debating on walking to the shops or hailing a cab.
“I believe we haven’t met our kiss quota for the day.”
“And we’re not going to. It doesn’t start until we touch down in Hawaii.” Not wanting to stand and wait for a cab, I bid him farewell and strode off toward the shops. I needed toiletries and the biggest bathing suit cover-up I could find. Perhaps a nice sun hat to go along with it. I was hoping a little retail therapy would help me keep my mind off the fact that I would soon be stuck in a hotel room for a week with Grant.
Maybe I’d just lick the subway rail and hope I really did catch the flu.
5
“Son of a bitch.” I wrestled my giant suitcase down the narrow stairs and out to the honking cab. “I’m coming, asshole!”
A rapid-fire yelping came from the door nearest to me, and as expected, it opened a mere moment later.
“You woke up Professor Floofum!” My batty downstairs neighbor stood in her doorway wearing a robe and holding her Chinese crested rat.
“Sorry, Mrs. Klaxton!” I turned to descend the last flight of stairs.
“He’s too riled up to go back to sleep now!” she called after me.
“I’m terribly sorry, Mrs. Klaxton.” I didn’t give a shit.
“It’s your fault!”
“I know, Mrs. Klaxton.” The night air was cool against my face, and the air was damp with promised rain. Professor Floofum’s yips were still audible through the window. I certainly wouldn’t miss that.
“I’m here, I’m here!” I scurried out to the cab and threw my suitcase in the open trunk and quickly got in the backseat, giving the driver Grant’s address.
Unsurprisingly, I fell asleep on the short drive and was awakened by the slamming of the trunk that signified Grant’s suitcase being loaded.
“What are you wearing?” I took in his slim jeans, blazer, and thin sweater.
“I think the better question is what are you wearing?”
“We’re going to be traveling all day. I’m comfortable.” Okay, so maybe the sweater had seen better days. But September in New York tended to be chilly, and I knew they wouldn’t keep the airports warm. Still, the yoga pants were purely for comfort, and I wasn’t going to apologize for comfort.
“I’m comfortable, too. And I don’t look like a sorority girl on her way to an 8am class.” He cut his eyes to the mop of hair on top of my head.
“It is two o’clock in the morning, Grant. What do you want from me? Diamonds and pearls?” I wrapped the cardigan that I was wearing over the sweater so he couldn’t make a further comment.
“I’d settle for a sweater that isn’t threadbare.”
“You’re getting an all-expense paid trip to Hawaii. It’s the middle of the night. Quit bitching.” I scooched closer to the door, curling up and looking out at the misting night, too annoyed now to fall back asleep. Honestly, who did he think he was? If I was getting a free trip to paradise, I wouldn’t care if they wore a leopard print catsuit; I wouldn’t complain. I cut my eyes back to him. Then again, he did look better than me.
The Metropolitan Museum of Art was one of my favorite buildings in New York. As we passed, I realized how long it had been since I’d last gone. Months, at least. I’d need to change that soon. The banners out front boasted new exhibits, and some that were oldies but still goodies.
“They have a new King Tut exhibit I hear is phenomenal. I saw it once when I was a kid on a field trip, but I hear they’ve expanded it a lot.”
“I’d like to see that.” He liked art? News to me. “The Da Vinci exhibit was one of my favorites. I got to see the Vitruvian Man. I know it’s cliche, but it’s one of my favorites,” I said, wiping condensation from the window.
“I always enjoyed his sketches of his inventions. Just seeing the thought and details that he put into them. What’s going on?”
“What?” I rose up to see nothing but red tail lights. We were at a standstill. “No. No, no, no.” We could be here for hours. If we missed our flight, there was no telling when we’d get another one out. Or how much it would cost at this point.
“We still have time,” Grant assured me.
I groaned, leaning my head against the damp window.
“Soph. Soph.”
“Hmm? What?” I sat up, wiping my mouth. I was just about to kiss Clark Kent after he’d saved me from a building.
“I fell asleep, too. We’re not moving.”
I rubbed my eyes and checked the time on the dashboard. Almost 4am.
“We’ve gotta go.” I threw a bill at the driver and opened the door.
“Sophie, we’re in traffic!” Grant jumped out after me. “Get back in the cab!”
“Pop the trunk!” I grabbed my suitcase and Grant followed suit.
“What are we going to do? Run to LaGuardia?”
I scrambled to the sidewalk, scanning to see if I could tell what the holdup was.
“Come on.” Thankfully, my suitcase, although unwieldy, was on wheels. I took off for what appeared to be a clear street. We’d run at least five blocks in an awkward zigzag until finally there was no traffic. I waved like a maniac until a cab finally stopped. Grant threw our suitcases in the trunk and we loaded in.
“Fifth Avenue is a parking lot. We need to get to LaGuardia to catch a 5am flight.” I was breathing heavily, and tried to calm my heartbeat.
“If you get us there on time, I’ll give you a hundred dollars. On top of the fare.” Grant was breathing hard, too.
“You got it,” the driver said, pulling out into the street.
An experienced New York cab driver was like a magician, especially when a hundred dollar tip was riding on it. We got lucky with a short drop-off line in front of the airport.
“We have forty-five minutes,” Grant said.
“How fast can you run in those shoes?” This was where my comfy sneakers came in handy.
“Fast enough.” He gave the cab driver the tip as promised, and the trunk was popped before we were out.
I slapped the trunk to let him know we were done, and took off into the airport, pissed that I’d fallen asleep in the cab and we had to run.
“I guess no one likes to fly at 4am.” The airport was still busy, but not as busy as it could have been. There weren’t too many people in the security line. Small miracles.
I quickly removed my shoes and placed them on the conveyor belt, praying we didn’t get stopped for a random search. Years ago, I’d been told a tip to wear a sports bra to the airport, so there’d be no underwire to set off the metal detector. We were through decently quickly, the TSA taking note of our distress.
“I haven’t run this much since high school track.” Damn, I was out of shape.
“I haven’t run this much since ever.”
We made it. We made it to the terminal with minutes to sp
are, only to see “delayed” flashing in red.
“What the?” This kept getting better and better.
Beside me, Grant began to chuckle.
“I’d like to know what’s so funny,” I wheezed, doubled over.
“Oh, come on. It’s a little funny. At least it’s only delayed an hour. Come on. We’ll get some coffee. My treat.”
6
Grant told me I could have anything I wanted in any size. So, I opted for the largest cinnamon latte they had, extra espresso. It was going to be a long day.
“Can I just get a medium soy latte?”
“Soy?” I asked.
“Lactose intolerant.”
I filed that away with the fact that he liked art, knew Da Vinci’s work, and frequented Sal’s deli. I was finding that I rather enjoyed learning these new little things about Grant, no matter how obnoxious he was. Refusing to miss the plane after everything that happened, we chose seats practically in the doorway of the terminal, sipping our coffee in companionable silence. I was supremely annoyed, despite the coffee’s best efforts. The already long day just got longer, and I was already irritated that it was Grant that I’d be tethered to for the next thirteen hours. I didn’t know how he managed to be handsome in the dead of night, but there he was, looking polished and put together, while I looked like an annoyed witch that ate children. Even more so with the scowl that had taken up residence on my face since finding the plane delayed.
He finished his latte before me and stopped to talk to the girl behind the desk on his way back from dropping his cup into the recycling bin. I grumbled as his laughter filtered over to me and she put a delicate hand on his arm.
“Damn fine fake boyfriend you got there, Soph.” I drained the last of my cup and set it next to me. Maybe I’d go find myself a boy to flirt with.
She was pulling out all the stops, too. Hair flips, looking at him through her lashes, and sly grins.
Anytime I tried for a sly half-grin I looked like a growling possum. I was beginning to think asking Grant to come to Hawaii was a mistake. Sure, he seemed offended at the idea of being thought of as a cheating snake, but we hadn’t even made it off the ground and he was charming the panties off another woman. At least he hadn’t tried to kiss me again. Worried that he might, I half turned, breathing into my hand and trying to smell it without anyone noticing. Oof. That’d stink up the cabin. I popped a mint.
“I think it should be a crime to schedule flights this early only to delay them,” the gentleman behind me said. “Don’t you?”
When I didn’t hear any response, I turned to see him looking my way.
“Oh, you were talking to me?”
“Yes. I was.”
Dear God, those baby blues were entrancing. His hair was a sandy blond, and his dress was casual. Unlike someone who overdressed for a day of travel.
“I definitely think it’s rude to schedule something this early. Especially since I was almost late getting here.” I turned sideways in my chair toward the gentleman.
“Waiting on Dapper Dan over there to perfectly coif?” He nodded toward Grant. “Did your boyfriend not get the memo that the airport isn’t black tie?”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I answered too quickly. “Just a friend. And no, he didn’t get the memo. He even made fun of my comfy travel sweater.”
“Never make fun of a woman’s comfy clothes. It’s just good manners. I’m Tyler, by the way.”
I shook his extended hand. Smooth skin, firm shake. Hello, Tyler.
“Sophie. So, what are you headed to Hawaii for? And by yourself,” I asked, hoping there wasn’t a girlfriend in the restroom or getting coffee. Dare I try the sly half-grin? Don’t push your luck.
“My brother is getting married Friday, and my mom insisted that we spend the week together as a family.”
“My sister is getting married Saturday and my dad insisted that we spend the week together as a family. What resort will you be at?” I could drop Grant right here and ask this guy to be my fake boyfriend. At least he didn’t make fun of my cozy sweater.
“Turtle Bay Resort.”
There is a God.
“Same! What a small world. Maybe we’ll catch each other around.”
I turned sharply at a gentle hand on my back. Grant was done flirting, and now he was looming over me.
“Well, I found out what the delay is. Some sensor wasn’t working properly. Shouldn’t be too much longer. Hi. I’m Grant.” He shook Tyler’s hand.
We passed the time with small talk, and I found out that Tyler was the middle son of three boys. Originally from Oklahoma, he moved to New York when he got a job as a financial advisor for a large law firm, though he wouldn’t tell me which. Which likely meant he was loaded, his unassuming and casual attire concealing it well. I wasn’t doing too poorly at flirting, and Tyler seemed equally as interested.
Closer to time to board, I reached in my backpack for the prescription I had been given some years back. Plane trips made me a nervous wreck, and it was better for all parties involved if I was tranquilized. I scrambled around, annoyed that I couldn’t find it.
“For heaven’s sake.” I set the backpack in my lap, checking every pocket. “Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I need a little help on flights, and I can’t find that one thing that helps me be bearable.” I had a change of clothes, underwear, makeup, emergency tampons, and a crossword book, but no pills. Tyler’s flirtation had kept me distracted up until now, but they were about to call us to board and I couldn’t flirt for thirteen hours straight.
“Well, you’re not bearable any other time. Why should a flight be any different?” Grant said.
“Would you try for five minutes to be supportive?”
“Do you want me to crap a sedative?”
The intercom blared that we were now boarding, but I couldn’t peel myself up from the chair.
“I’ll just stay here,” I said, desperately trying to push my heart back down from my gullet. “I don’t need to see my sister get married.” I’d been fine all morning knowing that I could take one pill and likely sleep the whole way. Now that I didn’t have that safety net, I couldn’t bring myself to step on the plane.
“Look, I have one that I’ll give you if you just get on the plane.” Grant’s face appeared before mine, and he had one hand on each armrest. “But you will get on that plane. You will be fine. And you will see your sister get married. Do it for Rebecca.”
I nodded and managed to stand, swinging my backpack on despite the pit in my stomach. God, my knees were goo. I heard the familiar sound of a pill bottle and took the white oblong pill from him, chasing it with water from the tiny bottle we were allowed on the plane.
“Now, in no time at all, you’ll feel fine, and we’ll enjoy a nice flight.”
The girl at the gate gave extra attention to Grant and acted as though I was a boa constrictor. Or a growling possum. I felt like one had lodged itself in my lower intestine.
I’d managed to get a window seat, which I wouldn’t be looking out, but at the very least I could lean on the wall of the plane and sleep. The one flight where I was forced to suffer through a middle seat was a hell like no other. I’d forgotten my neck pillow, and sleeping while sitting up was a joke. At least I remembered a pillow this time.
It was nearing 6, and I hoped I’d be able to fall asleep soon, despite my unfortunate nap in the cab. I wedged the pillow between myself and the window and tried to fall asleep while waiting on the last-minute plane checks to occur. The familiar rumble of takeoff woke me several minutes later, and I gripped the armrests, hating the pressure against my chest. The possum in my gut wasn’t calming down, and I could hear my heart pounding in my ears. Oh, God. Oh, God. It was easier to breathe once we leveled off, and I concentrated on even breathing, waiting for the pilot to reach altitude. It took an eternity to reach our “cruising altitude” of 36,000 feet. According to my watch, it had only been eleven minute
s.
“Excuse me, ma’am. Would it be possible to get my traveling companion here a whiskey?” Grant had stopped a flight attendant.
“Make it a double, neat,” I said, still trying to even out my breathing.
“I didn’t know you were afraid of flying.”
“Yeah, well, I wasn’t until we flew through a storm once on my way back to visit my parents.” Thinking about that day had my heart rate up, and I tried to think about Elvis, puppies, and sushi instead. I willed the flight attendant to come back with my whiskey. Thankfully, I didn’t have to wait long.
“Sip it slowly,” Grant instructed.
One gulp was all it took.
“Oh, that’s good. Or just chug it like a dude at a frat party. Could I just get an orange juice, please?”
The warmth of the whiskey coursing through me helped, and I was able to fall asleep on the short flight to the Atlanta airport. You can’t die without connecting to Atlanta first.
I was still feeling the effects of the whiskey, so the trip through the airport was fuzzy. Thankfully, I had Grant and Tyler to follow. During the short layover, I sipped an amaretto sour and solved a crossword puzzle in the New York Times while Grant did God only knew what. I didn’t know if it was false confidence of the alcohol or if I was getting better at these darn things, but I managed to complete it before we were called to board our next flight. Next thing I know, I’ll be doing these in ink. Our flight was called and I stood, rather shakily. A pair of arms caught me before my face made contact with the floor.
Faking Paradise Page 4
