Goodnight Sometimes Means Goodbye (Wrong Flight Home, #2)

by Noel J. Hadley

  It came from my Great-Uncle Jack, who'd been keeping up with the surveillance at Adele's apartment building while I was gone for the weekend. His message read as follows: Whatever you do, don't go home. They're waiting for you.

  Penny was right about there being an aftermath. But like I said, the phone's battery was dead, which meant I wouldn't be getting that particular text until it could be charged again....at home....with them, whoever they were.....waiting for me.

  Oh well, another story for another time.

  17

  EERO SAARINEN'S OTHER ATTEMPT at airport architecture was currently inhabited by JetBlue Airways, my travel provider of choice. Some of his mid-twentieth century design had been demolished, all due to massive expansion, and construction was still underway, but the exterior of the TWA Flight Center's main hub, also known as Terminal 5, was registered as an historic building by the National Park Service. I was happy to see that a piece of his soul had remained.

  “You really didn't have to see us off,” I said to Leah from the curb. We missed our original flight, by the way. It was nearing noon now, and we'd barely managed this one. And then there was that other parking ticket waiting at my rental, with a sarcastic sign taped onto the back passenger window; the sarcasm of New York City justice, as usual. I'd let National deal with it.

  I set my camera bag down as a gesture to hug her goodbye. Richie coolly leaned against the hood of Leah's car, arms crossed, and Penny reluctantly stood a dozen paces away, pretending to care about curbside traffic. I'd asked her to give us a moment of privacy, but I knew she was trying to reel in any trace of gossip. She squealed now and then too, usually a sign that she'd heard something she liked. And believe me, there were a lot of squeals.

  “I'm coming off what started as the greatest and ended as the strangest night of my entire adult life,” she said. “Don’t ruin the moment with formality.”

  “It was one of mine too, and in that exact order.”

  “I can’t believe it’s all really over.”

  “I know. And we only just started getting reacquainted.”

  “No. I meant my run with REPUBLICAN BLUE.” Leah playfully slapped the inner palm of her hand across my chest, being careful to avoid the wound.

  “I did too, Mrs. Elliot.”

  “Mrs.? Are you flirting with the President’s wife?”

  “No....Maybe.”

  “Wrong answer, I’ll be Isla Elliot anytime you want.” She poked my chest with her index finger when pronouncing you and want.

  “Is that an open invitation?”

  “You know it is.” Leah touched my arm as a gesture to hug, and then stopped herself. “So let me recount what happened to us this weekend. I probably lost the leading part in the very role of a movie that I not only helped make popular, but defined on stage. You lost most of your upcoming clientele due to a scandal in the news...”

  “The stab wounds pretty fresh, too.”

  “Yes, and you were stabbed. And we just helped a cor....”

  I interrupted her. “That's okay. You don't have to say it out loud. I know who we just helped.” I thought she may have intended to pronounce corpse.

  “Not exactly what I was expecting when I invited you over.”

  “I'm sorry about that.”

  “Shush.” She gently slapped my chest again, being careful of my wound. “According to Penny, it’s all a part of the Joshua Chamberlain experience.”

  I said: “Leah, why did you do it?” But she looked confused, so I rephrased my question. “Why did you drive all the way to Dulles International and back, especially since you knew the risks?”

  “It's simple. Your old college friend didn't want saving. But you did.” Her eyes sparkled. “I failed the first time. I wasn't going to make the same mistake twice.”

  “Thanks, Leah. I never actually saw it like that.”

  “No, thank you for not dying on me in the North Tower; thanks for making it out alive and telling me about it.” She thought about it. “All things considered, do you think either of us will land on our feet again?”

  “So long as I’ve know you, you’ve always been a leading lady. You'll light up the stage again.”

  “I hope so.”

  “But in the meantime, what now?”

  “I haven’t a clue. Maybe I’ll go home, sleep for about two days, and if I’m feeling especially crazy, wake up with the normal people to go jogging.”

  “Secret Service or no Secret Service?”

  “Oh, definitely Secret Service; Isla wouldn't have it any other way. And really, it’s what every girl really wants, their own army of sweaty calendar models.”

  “I’m not sure if that’s how it really works.”

  “Damn.”

  “I’ve got a better idea. How about you drive up with me in two weeks to a wedding in Maine, just the two of us?”

  “You’re joking, right?”

  “Okay, fine. You can bring one Secret Service model. But any more than that and I’m prone to get a little jealous.”

  “No, seriously, they haven't canceled on you?”

  “Not these people. Not yet, anyways.”

  “They must not watch the news very often then.”

  “Or maybe they only have eyes for Fox News.”

  Leah clinched my arms and smiled. “Yes. When do we leave?”

  “I fly back in on Thursday.”

  “That’s in ten days. Why not just spend a few more nights at my apartment? Miranda's gone half the time anyhow.”

  “But Mrs. Elliot, what if the president finds out?”

  Leah bit her lower lip. “He’s at the G8 Summit.”

  “As lovely as the proposition of being President for the night sounds, I’ve got a dog to feed.”

  “Aristotle?”

  “He has free reign over the apartment when I'm gone, and tenants sort of leave food on their porch as a peace offering, so as not to be murdered. Still, if I don’t return to feed him soon he’s likely to chop me up into canned kitty-chow and ship me off to Petco.”

  Leah scrolled her eyes over my gray driving cap, vest and black button-up shirt (the tight fitting vest actually helped secure my bandages in place, and hide them,) with tight-fitting slacks and zip-up Italian heels, trying very hard not to smile. It wasn’t her best performance, however, and she quickly broke character.

  “Can I count on you to be there?”

  “Where else do I have to be? I’ll pick you up the moment you’re flight arrives, especially if you look half this good. Do you always travel dressed up as a Beatle?”

  “I can’t wait to see you again, Leah.”

  “Me neither.” Leah buried her head in my chest. I wrapped my arms around her, and we hugged like that for a time.

  “Goodnight,” I said.

  “It’s practically mid-day.”

  “I guess it’s goodbye then.”

  “No. I hate goodbyes. I’ll be seeing you in ten days. In the meantime steer clear of knife fights, and Hollywood producers, and Philly gang-bangers, and the Mancini family, and what’s his name.”

  “A lot can happen in a week.”

  “If you die on me, I’ll kill you.”

  “How is that even possible?”

  “I’ll rap my knuckles across the Pearly Gate and ask Saint Peter to stand down while I murder you all over again.”

  “You sound serious.”

  “I am.”

  “Then I’ll try my best to avoid the devil if at all possible, too.”

  “You've got that right. Better yet, you may want to steer clear of just about everyone, including petting zoo animals, until I can pick you up again. You're basically a walking time bomb. And Joshua, one more thing…”

  “What's that?”

  “Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight, Leah.”

  Penny had not only stopped pretending to care about the curbside traffic when I turned to face her, but she’d been staring at us with the look of an impending detonation, and managed t
o covertly sweep within a few feet of our conversation as I turned around to enter the TWA Flight Center.

  “Oh, what the hell,” I heard Leah's voice.

  As soon as I twirled back around, just to see what Oh, what the hell meant, her mouth met with mine. I didn't argue with her and kind of let her lips do their thing. Warmth and blood flooded my inner thighs, and Penny made the biggest squeal of her life.

  “A kiss,” Leah said, “among two very old friends.”

  “I like the way you kiss your friends.”

  “Just the very old ones,” her smile was wide and breathless, and above all else, genuine. “And I thought you would.”

  18

  “I CAN'T RECALL A TIME when I’ve been so tired.” Penny slid into the window seat, making sure to buckle her seat belt and pull the strap tight around her waist. She even laid Chuck Palahniuk’s latest book, Snuff, on her lap, in preparation to read its last fifty or sixty pages (that is, if her sagging eyes didn’t detour her first). “You’re probably used to this sort of thing. I bet you’ve gone days on end without a bed.”

  “Sometimes, if I concentrate hard enough, I’ll go an entire week without pooping.” I slid into my seat, laying my own reading material, Schulz and Peanuts, across my lap as a force of habit and made immediate use of the headrest. It had been slow reading that summer, but not because the content was uninteresting. “It’s called traveler’s log.”

  “That’s gross.”

  “And in my spare time I like to leap over tall buildings in a single bound.”

  “So are you two gonna get married or what?”

  “Who, Leah and I?”

  “No, you and Mary Martin, who else?”

  “That’s impossible. I’m already married to a Catholic, and Catholic’s don’t divorce. It’s in the manual. And since polygamy is socially frowned upon….”

  “You're not wearing your marriage ring. For someone who claims they don't want the cow’s milk, you sure are tugging at its dairy tits an awful lot.”

  I chose not to answer that.

  “And besides, you wish you could. You’re wife isn't exactly much of a wife anymore, and you're the marrying type.”

  “What's the marrying type?”

  “You are. That’s what keeps you happy at night.”

  “Leah’s just a friend. I’ve been going through a hard time, and she was a shoulder to lean on. I'm keeping my marriage monogamous.”

  “That kiss wasn't very monogamous, Joshua.”

  “Leah's an emotional yo-yo. She gives you an inch and then retreats a mile. I wouldn't put much weight on what just happened.”

  Penny opened up Palahniuk, read probably no more than half a sentence, yawned something terrible, and then clamped its binding shut. Her eyes soon followed the books example.

  “Don’t lie to me. I’ve sorted through every single professional picture that you’ve ever taken. I’m more intimate with your work than you are.” She paused only to yawn again, eyes closed, giving me a front row view of her tonsils. “I saw the way you photographed her in Boston, the way you looked at her last night. And that kiss. I put the three and three together.”

  “It’s generally rude to look away from someone when you’re taking their picture, or when they're kissing you. It's just rude.”

  “Do you talk in your sleep?”

  “How should I know?”

  “I thought I could ask the hardball questions then, when you’re more willing to answer them without being such a smart-ass all the time.”

  “Sleep is nice.” I shut my eyes and considered my latest potential Facebook status, the one I could never post; the one that stated I was in love with the other girl.

  “You love her, don’t you?” Penny repositioned her head against my shoulder. “Is it alright if I use your arm as a pillow?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. And yes.”

  “I’m cold.” She wrapped a wool blanket around her breasts. “There’s no shame in happiness after Elise.”

  “You know what I want?”

  “What?” She breathed so soundly that I thought she might have fallen asleep right there and then.

  “To be normal for once.”

  “The only normal people are the ones you don’t know, and they frighten me the most.”

  “I guess I’m just tired.”

  “I am too.” She forced a third and final yawn. “I’ve been up for at least thirty-six hours. And the jet-lag.”

  “There’s that. But I’m talking about the constant waking. Never knowing where I really am one moment to the next. I guess I just want to open my eyes tomorrow with the confidence of knowing that I’m getting up in the same bed as I will every other morning with the warmth of the same person beside me.”

  “That’s not you. For you home life is about as natural as a supermodel with an appetite. There’s nothing wrong in loving someone along the way, Joshua.”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “You’re referring to Elise again.”

  “I’m tired of loving and not being loved.”

  “I’m in love.”

  “Penny, I….”

  Penny swung her arm, despite being half asleep. It ended up slapping my chest. “Not with you. With Omar, silly.”

  “Oh, that’s right, your boyfriend.”

  “Do you know how many times I tried to seduce you into my spider lair?”

  “Plenty.”

  “I would have loved you, had you let me.”

  “I know you would have, Penny. The timing simply wasn’t right.”

  “Maybe we were life partners in another century.”

  “I’m not so concerned with who my soul mate may or may not have been in another fictional existence as I am with this one.” I detected a hint of drool warming the left side of my chest.

  “It’s a nice thought though,” said the drooler.

  I smiled without answering her.

  “Don’t you think?” She mumbled.

  “Professionally speaking?”

  “Always,” I suspected she was already asleep when pronouncing always.

  “It is,” I said.

  Then again, I might have been sleeping too.

  Neither of us heard the plane take off from its east coast runway. And we slept that way for hundreds of miles. Waking up somewhere over the Rockies, Penny Parker had stained my shirt with the warm saliva of her mouth. I can’t say I’m necessarily an advocate for getting drooled on, but for once in my life it felt nice.