Voyage (The Vivienne Series Book 4)

by Karen Gordon

  Voyage

  By Karen Gordon

  The Vivienne Series, Book 4

  Chapter One

  If my life were a movie, this would be the end scene. It’s a wide shot, at sunset-- I drive off in a convertible down a California road (never mind that I don’t live there). I’m tossing papers into the wind, stopping to throw my cell phone into the ocean, driving off into the sunset as the end credits roll.

  But it’s not a movie and I know this because I’m stuck in a line of cars waiting for a train to pass. I’m in my non-convertible, safe, reliable car and I’m not tossing anything to the wind because I’m too busy having a panic attack. Or at least I hope that’s what this is because the only other idea I have is that this is a heart attack. I’m in a fog. My vision is closing in, getting dark around the edges and my hearing is fuzzy. I struggle to pull in a breath. There isn’t pain in my chest but it’s too tight to allow in much air. I hold my clammy hands still in my lap, trying to will this away. I only move them when my face starts to itch and burn. My cheeks feel like they are on fire so I lower the visor mirror. Oh, my, god, my face looks like a tomato and I’ve got a couple of welts on each cheek.

  This can’t be the end of me. I can’t go down in a puddle of panic-induced adrenaline.

  I reach into my purse to get my phone, forgetting that I just turned it in to Jack. I want to talk to Dom, now. We have plans to get me a new phone later today but I can’t wait. As soon as the last train car passes I force a breath and concentrate hard so I can drive to her place.

  ✈ ✈ ✈

  When she opens the door she looks exhausted.

  “Were you sleeping?”

  She rubs her eyes and squints against the morning sun. “Sorta.” She focuses enough to see my face. “What the hell happened to you?”

  I touch my cheek. They still feel hot but I had forgotten about the welts. “Oh…I quit. I’m unemployed.”

  She nods then takes my hand and pulls me inside. Once she closes the door she opens her arms wide and beckons me to come get a hug. I’m about to when I notice she is looking pretty rough too.

  “You don’t look so good either. Are you ok?”

  She waves me over to her again. “I’m not contagious.”

  I drop my purse and grab on to her shoulders and hug her as tightly as she is hugging me.

  “I’m scared, D.” I say into her shoulder.

  “I know.”

  “I can’t do this. Look at me.” I try to pull back but she holds on.

  “You will be fine.” She smooths my hair away from my face. “It looks like hives. Gabby gets them.” She’s referring to her little step-sister, the nervous, cry-baby one. “Let me make you some tea.”

  I nod into her shoulder then she lets go. While she goes to make my tea I plop onto her couch as exhaustion takes over and my panic fades. I can hear her putting water into the kettle and opening the packet of tea—the sounds of caring. I close my eyes and try to pull in a deeper breath.

  Dom is her usual calm, though tired, self when she asks, “You want milk in it?”

  “Sure.” I mumble. I guess she heard me because I can hear the fridge door opening. Then closing, then Dom coughing, water running, more coughing, then a retching sound.

  My eyes pop open. “Dom? Are you ok?” She doesn’t answer. There’s just more coughing and retching over the sound of water running. “Dom?”

  In the kitchen I find her bent over the sink, bathing her face with cold water. I stand next to her and hold her hair back. “You sure you don’t have the flu or something?”

  She nods as she wipes the dripping water from her mouth and smiles, “Yeah, I’m sure.”

  I let go of her hair but not before I smooth it back behind her ear. “Then what was that?”

  She takes a deep breath before matter-of-factly announcing, “Morning sickness.”

  ✈ ✈ ✈

  All morning and into the afternoon, Dom and I are quite the pair. We lay in bed together, hugging pillows, not really watching what’s on TV.

  “When are you going to tell him?” She showed me the pee stick which had just announced its results about fifteen minutes before I got here.

  “When he gets home this afternoon.” She shifts a little so I can see her face.

  “I’m really excited for you. I swear.” I snuggle into the pillow and smile at her.

  “I know. I’m excited too, just too damn tired to do anything about it.”

  I chuckle. “So this is how we celebrate your baby and my new job. We lay here like lumps and watch…” I lean up to see what’s on. I don’t recognize it. “…something.”

  Dom blows out a breath. “We’ve got to go get your new phone.”

  I settle in more because I’m falling asleep. “Later,” I mumble.

  She doesn’t reply so I prop open one eye to see that she is already asleep.

  Chapter Two

  Dom and I lay in bed, alternatively sleeping, eating toast (because that’s all she can stomach) and watching TV all day. When Luis gets home I give him my spot on the bed and make a hasty exit. They need to be alone to share their good news.

  I was supposed to go to the phone store with Dom but it looks like this is one task I need to handle alone. It’s a much longer process than I had imagined. I’ve had a company phone for the past couple of years and didn’t have to go through the gauntlet of contracts, phone choices, plan options, etc. I sign the last of the paperwork and take my new phone and accessories just as the store is closing. My stomach growls then, a reminder that all I’ve had today is toast. As I’m driving home I mentally sort through the ingredients in my fridge, finding just enough to make a decent dinner salad.

  It feels better than ever to be home, so peaceful and soothing after Vegas, quitting my job and Dom’s big news. I take a minute to soak in all the details—all my favorite things. I open the French doors that lead to my little balcony to let in the early summer breeze. I light my fresh-cut-grass candle then combine it with a light floral one. I start a chill playlist before I make dinner then get to work setting up my new phone.

  The buzzer for the building front door rings as I’m changing into shorts and a tee shirt but I ignore it. People press the button for the wrong apartment all the time. They usually figure it out.

  It stops, then buzzes again a few minutes later. I decide to pick up and set whoever it is straight. “Wrong apartment.” I announce.

  “Vivienne?” I know that voice but I’m shocked hearing it here, in my world.

  “Mr. Rockhurst?”

  He’s irritated—I can hear the edge in his voice but he’s also trying to be polite. “Yes, it is. Could you buzz me in please?”

  I panic. I don’t want to talk to him, especially right now. “I don’t work for JetStream anymore, Mr. Rockhurst.”

  “I understand that and that is why I’d like to talk to you.” He’s enunciating slowly like I’ve gone dimwitted. “I have some paperwork you need to sign.”

  I hate that even his voice is invading my sanctuary. I want him gone. “Sir, I would be happy to go in to HR and complete my paperwork…tomorrow.”

  He’s losing his politeness. “This is beyond HR, Vivienne. We need to talk. Open the door.”

  The good girl who doesn’t like to make anyone mad is at war with the part of me that says letting him in is a really, really, bad idea. I pause and let my logical brain catch up and override my fear. “I can’t do that, sir. If you need to talk to me it will have to be at a café or bar. It’s late but I can meet you somewhere.” I add. “nearby,” at the last minute to emphasize that I’m not excited about this.

  There is a long pause before he replies. “Fine, ther
e’s an American Legion hall down the street with a café. Can you meet me there?”

  This seems like a very odd choice for Mr. Sophistication. I’m guessing he wants to go where no one is likely to know him.

  “Fine.” I don’t sound happy about it because I’m not. I feel like he’s trying to corner me somehow. At least it won’t be in my own place. “I’ll be there in fifteen to twenty minutes.”

  ✈ ✈ ✈

  I spy his driver sitting at the bar having a Coke when I walk in. He’s a nice man and waves to me in a friendly way. I give him a small wave back but can’t let go of my game face too much. I need to feel tough. As I changed back into work clothes I mentally prepared myself to not let Joel bully me.

  He’s at a small table in the back with some papers in front of him. He rises when I approach and reaches out to shake my hand. I study him and hesitate. I don’t want him to think I’m going to let him set the tone. I shake hands with him but do it quickly, perfunctory.

  I speak first. I can’t let him take over. “What do I need to sign?”

  He pauses and studies my blunt tone. “Are you angry about something, Vivienne?” He’s putting on an air of complete calm now, trying to make me look a little unhinged.

  “No, I’m just not sure why someone I used to work for felt free to come to my apartment, uninvited, at…”I look up at the clock. “Nine-thirty p.m.”

  He concedes my point with a nod. “I wanted to talk to you earlier but I couldn’t reach you.” He reaches in his pocket and pulls out my old phone.

  I’m not sure why he brought it. Does he think I’ll come back? That I’ll need it again by the end of this meeting? “Per your HR policy I turned in my company-supplied phone and keys. Is there some other problem that has to be taken care of tonight?” I’m trying not to sound shrill but he is ruffling my feathers. He has a presence that is so intimidating. I need to remember that I know him, his weaknesses, and that he can’t hurt me by firing me now. Not my boss. Not my problem. I repeat it in my head.

  He pauses and makes me wait. I hate how it feels like he is waiting for me to calm down, although I do need to.

  “I have a non-disclosure agreement here.” He turns the papers in front of him to face me. “You will need to sign it.”

  I pick it up and pretend to read it. Most of it makes absolutely no sense to me but I like making him sit and wait for me. After a few minutes I set it down. “Fine. I’ll have an attorney look it over and get back to you. Anything else?”

  This is not what he wants to hear but he keeps his cool (on the surface). “I need to know…” He stops and looks around to make sure no one is listening in. “…if Jack…what he did that caused you to quit?”

  I open my mouth to begin the long list of grievances I have against Jack but I stop myself. He doesn’t really care about how Jack treated me. He just wants to know if he’s done anything that might result in a lawsuit, hence the legal stuff. “Nothing.”

  My one-word answer definitely catches him off guard. He wants more assurance than that. “Then why, may I ask, did you quit so abruptly? I thought we were on the same page when we talked in Vegas.”

  Again I want to spew out the whole story. I want to tell him I found a company that sees that I have skills beyond being Jack’s babysitter. I want to tell him that respect and appreciation mean more to me than a pay raise. But I don’t. “I had a better offer.”

  I like it that he has to take a calming breath before he can respond. He nods, conceding my right to not answer but he adds, “You do know that I will find out where. Aviation is a small industry.”

  I nod my agreement but don’t offer any more explanation. He’s right. It is a small world and he will find out but I don’t care. This isn’t about him and he has no influence over my new job. He may be powerful in the industry but I know Mikel will not be threatened by Joel, and neither will I now.

  “It is.” I pause to smile at our agreement. “And you will. I do know that.” Again I stop just short of giving him the information he wants. I’m better at playing this game than I thought I would be. I sit in silence and let the ball linger in his court.

  “So that’s it? After nine years at JetStream?”

  Is he really playing the company loyalty card? Seriously? I’m so tempted to throw Martin in his face. I don’t know exactly how long he worked there but I’m sure it was longer than nine years and he was fired on the spot. But again, I don’t. I don’t want to waste my time and words on him. I’ve already checked out of his world and I owe him nothing.

  I don’t even speak, just nod.

  After another minute of very awkward silence I’ve had enough. I stand. “I need to go. I have work to do and it’s late.” I gather the legal papers and fold them in half. “I’ll give these to my lawyer and have them back to you in a few days.” I stuff them in my purse.

  He also stands and reaches out to shake hands. I’m tired of his games I consider just leaving but reconsider. I don’t want to be petty. I want to take the higher road. I reach back and we shake but he holds on.

  “If you…find that your new position isn’t what you thought it would be…”

  He has a jilted-lover’s tone. Come back to me… I’m surprised he is letting his guard down but then I wonder if it’s just an act, another ploy to play me. Either way it can’t hurt for me to end on a polite note. He might have seen the job with Jack as an opportunity, maybe.

  I shrug, indicating that it could happen, then say, “thank you,” before leaving.

  ✈ ✈ ✈

  I walk back across the park, feeling a little creeped about being alone there out but generally calm. I just held my own with Joel Rockhurst. I didn’t cower or give in or even explain myself. I’m stronger than I ever thought I was.

  Back in my apartment I don’t bother tossing a salad. I pull chunks of baked chicken off the bone and eat it cold, alternating it with cherry tomatoes and artichoke hearts straight from the jar.

  I open the box that contains my new phone and set to work following the instructions meticulously. Not having one for even a day has been unnerving. As soon as it’s up and running I want to call Dom but I’m sure she and Luis are either celebrating or she is sleeping. I do the mental calculations, it’s around three a.m. in Milan. I have no idea if Anna and Mikel will be awake or not but I kind of don’t care. If they’re sleeping they will see my message in the morning.

  They are numbers three and four on the list of numbers I had to scrub from my other phone but want to add to this one. So I text them both.

  I’m home, free and ready to get started.

  Chapter Three

  I can’t remember the last time I flew commercial. To my dad’s funeral, I guess. I was so distraught that I don’t remember much of it. So this isn’t my first commercial flight or my first time in economy class, but it’s more annoying than I remembered.

  I’m on the twelve and a half hour leg of my trip to Milan. I’m squished into a tiny space, made smaller by the ginormous guy next to me, and I’m trying to get some sleep. Every time he moves, his pudgy elbow pushes against my rib, waking me again. I glare at him, again. He knows he’s doing it because I pointed it out to him about two hours ago. He didn’t apologize or offer to try to scoot over. “Can’t help it,” was all he said.

  I’m irritated but I just can’t get too mad. I mean, I’m going to Milan to see Annalize and Mikel and start my new job. I also commit this annoying flight to memory because this is exactly why people who can afford it buy a private jet. Not that most of them have ever flown economy. I glanced at first class on my way in. It did look nice. It’s going on my bucket list for when I sell one of Mikel’s planes and I get my first commission.

  I press myself farther against the bulkhead and try to find a somewhat comfortable position.

  I guess I could have paid for an upgrade myself, but like my new employer, Ora Aviazione, I’m conserving my funds until I can make some sales. I roll the name around on my tongue, Ora. I pictu
re my first real business cards announcing me as the North American sales rep for Ora Aviazione. And this makes me chuckle because I will be the last thing someone will expect. I only know of two female sales reps at JetStream, they’re extremely rare in the industry. I will be the female, obviously-not-Italian sales rep for Ora Aviazione.

  But deep inside it doesn’t feel real, I still feel like a secretary. I’ve always been one and I guess I need some way to feel like I’ve officially crossed over into the hallowed land of luxury jet sales. Maybe Annalize can help me think of a crossing over ceremony. I’m going to be staying with her and Mikel to save money and make it easier for me to learn all I need to know to get to work a.s.a.p. I get the feeling she is looking at my stay as more of a cross between a girlfriend’s weekend and a slumber party. She booked me an appointment with her hairdresser and told me that we would be going shopping together. I hope she won’t be too disappointed when I have to spend time working too.

  ✈ ✈ ✈

  Mikel meets me at the airport holding up a sign with the Ora logo and my name. It’s a sweet, funny gesture that makes me feel like part of the team. My forty-nine-and-a- half pound, overstuffed suitcase barely fits into the back of his micro car. We have to shove both our seats far forward to make room. When Mikel folds his long frame into the space left behind the steering wheel he notes, “Maybe I should have brought Anna’s car.”

  “What does she drive?” Honestly, I’m kind of surprised she drives. She strikes me as someone who would be driven everywhere.

  “A Masariti, but don’t go with her, she is a bad driver.” On that note he shoots out of our parking spot into traffic then drives like a maniac, swerving in and out of traffic. His little car doesn’t look like it but it’s fast. We fly around corners so fast I’m afraid the weight of my massive suitcase will cause us to tip over.

  The farther we get from the airport the more I see suburbs that turn to fields and farms. I look at the map on the dash screen and see that we are headed away from the city toward the Alps to the north. “I thought you live in Milan.”