Unraveled (Jersey Girls Book 1)

by Lisa-Marie Cabrelli

  “I don’t see your name here, miss. Are you sure you have the correct flight?” The woman was clicking away at the keys of her computer, but Claire didn’t think she wasn’t looking anything up.

  “Yes, I’m sure I am on that flight,” Claire said.

  “Fine, miss. If you could just show me your reservation receipt? Did you print one out?”

  Claire breathed a sigh of relief. She had printed it out and stuffed it into her purse on her last day in the office. She put her laptop bag on the floor and perched her purse on the counter. “Yes, I have it here.” It wasn’t there, though. It had to be there—she distinctly remembered that she had put it in her purse. She unzipped all the inside pockets and checked again. It really wasn’t there.

  “Um, it doesn’t seem to be in here. Can you look again? Last name Black. I know I’m on that flight.”

  The girl at the counter looked at Claire impatiently and then at the line of people behind her and sighed. “I checked, but I’ll look again.” She clicked for a few minutes at her keyboard and then looked up to Claire. This time, the irritation was visible in the lines tightening around her lips. “No,” she said, “there is no reservation on that flight for Black. Perhaps you should call your agent and confirm? There is a bank of pay phones over that way.”

  It was all too much. Claire’s face crumpled and she felt hot tears dropping onto her hands. She didn’t know she had any tears left, but here they were. Panic fluttered through her stomach. How could she not have a reservation?

  “Look,” she said, wiping sheets of tears onto her bare arms and then wiping her arms on her skirt, “I know have a reservation. Please, please, please, can you just look again? I think you must be looking in the wrong place, and I don’t want to go make a phone call, because they are just going to tell me I already have a reservation, and then I am going to have to get back in this line and have this entire conversation with you again. Please, look once more—you must be missing it.”

  “Miss,” the agent was shaking her head hard and pushing Claire’s passport back over the counter, “I have checked and you have no reservation. If you had your receipt, I might be able to locate it, but looking again will not make a reservation magically appear. I’m sorry you are confused, but I think you really need to call your agent and figure it out.”

  “Excuse me, madam, this is a friend of mine. Is there a problem?”

  Claire looked up to see Satish standing next to her, and he smiled down at her gently. She was so relieved to see him—and so relieved to see him smiling at her—that instead of pulling it together, she fell apart. She put her head in her arms on the counter in front of her and started to sob. A strong hand rubbed her back, and she felt Satish lean toward her, but she couldn’t look up at him.

  “Claire.” His breath was on her ear and she tried to stop sobbing. Everyone must have been staring at the crazy lady, by now. “Go find a restroom and take some time to feel better. Leave your things here, and I will take care of this. I’ll meet you at that bank of chairs,”

  he pointed.

  She nodded as a handkerchief was pressed into her hand, took a moment to feel surprised, and rushed off in the direction of what looked like, through her bleary vision, a restroom.

  Claire stood over the sink, looking at her dismal reflection in the mirror, and wondered if she wanted Satish to see her like this. Her reflection showed her an involuntary, slightly gruesome-looking smile, because Satish was here. Did it mean he had forgiven her? Maybe he had found out the truth. Did she care? He was here! She felt a huge wave of longing and blew her nose one last time—in a big wad of toilet paper, of course, since there was no way she was going to blow her nose in his handkerchief and then give it back to him. She hadn’t quite known what to do with the handkerchief, so she had gently patted her eyes as gracefully as she could as she’d made her way toward the bathroom. This was pretty hysterical, if anyone had seen her from the front, as dabbing at her eyes demurely was about as effective as sticking a Q-tip under a running faucet.

  She had the crying under control now, and she would just have to take her chances with the face. After heading to the bank of seats that Satish had pointed to, she looked around for him. He was still at the check-in counter. Goodness knows what he is doing. She watched him smiling at the agent. It was a different woman than the one she had been speaking to, and her agent stood to the side with her hands folded. The new woman must have been the manager. The agent who had been so mean to her was smiling stupidly at Satish, and Claire felt a pang of jealousy. He was so incredibly attractive in his linen khaki pants and crisp, white t-shirt that showed off his dark, muscular biceps, which all eyes followed as he bent to collect her luggage.

  Satish headed toward her and suddenly she felt incredibly shy. “Better?” he asked as he put her luggage down next to her. She nodded, but didn’t speak. “Why would you cancel your own flight?”

  She wrinkled her forehead in confusion. “Cancel my flight? I didn’t cancel my flight! Is that what that woman said? She just hated me from the minute I got to that desk. I can’t believe she told you I—”

  “Claire, Claire,” Satish said, laughing, “wait a minute. The manager came over and looked it up. It appears that you called and canceled your flight yesterday—you gave your confirmation code, e-Ticket number, and everything.”

  “Oh my God,” said Claire, realization sinking in, “she’s nuts!”

  “Well, she may be mistaken, Claire, but I don’t think she’s nuts…”

  “No, not her. I meant Nadia. She is such a crazy witch. I can’t believe she would cancel my flight.” She tilted her head back and announced to the ceiling, “You are officially nuts, woman! I am not sleeping with Nick!” She paused then and looked straight into Satish’s eyes. “I am not sleeping with Nick.”

  “I know.” He reached out and took her hand. “I know you aren’t, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not helping you, and I’m sorry for not giving you the benefit of the doubt. I’m so sorry that I wasn’t there for you when you needed a friend. There is a lot we need to talk about, Claire. I have some things I need to tell you.”

  She didn’t like the sound of that, but she did like her hand closed in his. She loved his skin—just this tiny amount of contact made her feel so safe. “Okay, when?” she asked. “When can we talk?”

  He handed her two tickets. “Well, fortunately, we have some time. They couldn’t get you on the flight today, as it is now overbooked. The soonest available flight doesn’t leave until tomorrow, so I let them bump me to tomorrow’s flight. It looks like you will get that dinner in Rio, after all.”

  Claire felt like she was going to start crying again “Thank you, Satish, for finding me and saving me, and for staying with me. I don’t think I like business trips.” She stood, withdrawing her hand reluctantly, and started to collect her things. “I think I need to go back to the hotel and take a nap.”

  Satish picked up her suitcase, “I’ll get us a cab.”

  24

  Satish

  He laughed as Claire elbowed him in the ribs for the third time. She was standing next to him on a train platform, bouncing on her tippy toes. She looked like a five-year-old about to board a plane for the first time.

  “I can’t believe we’re here!” she elbowed him again.

  “Yes, we are here and it is wonderful, but I would like to request that I go home with fewer bruises on my ribs, please.” He rubbed at his ribcage and gave her a theatrical grimace.

  Claire laughed, “I can’t promise anything—I am too excited! How about you let me hold your arm instead? Then my elbows will be safely contained.”

  Satish went quiet for a moment, but he slowly held his arm out to her. “Of course, tuck your arm under there.” She smiled and wrapped both of her arms around his elbow and continued bouncing—now bumping into his rib cage with her shoulder. “Well,” said Satish, “if this train ride doesn’t make me nauseous, I can count on some motion sickness from you.”
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br />   They were standing on a tiny train platform surrounded by jungle. Tropical plants crawled over the tops of the platform fence, trying to be a part of the action. The rich, earthy, chocolate smell of the dense forest crept into their noses. It was strange that this platform felt so remote when he could hear the vibrant city just outside of the shiny, red, iron fence. Through the bars, he caught fragmented glimpses of people flying by on bikes and tiny cars blasting their horns at each other. Just outside was a colorful stall selling Christ the Redeemer postcards, keychains, and miniature replicas of Corcovado.

  “Are you religious, Claire?” Satish asked.

  She continued her bouncing. “Not at all,” she said. “My dad doesn’t have a religion, so I have never been to church, or anything. I just want to see this statue because it is an amazing architectural achievement and a beautiful work of art.” She stopped bouncing and looked up at him seriously. “Are you religious, Satish? This doesn’t offend your beliefs, does it?”

  Satish laughed, and as he did, he wondered when he had ever laughed so much. He wasn’t sure he’d known how to laugh before he’d met Claire. He relished the feeling of her tiny arms wrapped around his elbow and questioned again how he was going to manage to tell her today. He wondered if he wanted to.

  “No, I’m not religious,” he said, “but my family is Hindu. It’s the one part of family duty from which I managed to escape. Growing up in England, no one bothered with my religious studies, and my father was more concerned with my academics and career than he was with religion. He made a few efforts to instill faith in me early on, but since I never went to temple or knew anyone other than Christians, it just didn’t stick. So, no, you are not offending my sensibilities, and although I don’t express my excitement in the same manner, you are certainly contagious. I am looking forward to seeing him, too.” He looked down at her and she grinned and hugged his elbow with her arms, a quick and gentle pressure that made his heart pound before she released him.

  She had looped her short camera strap all the way over her shoulder, so her camera dangled securely under her armpit. Now that they could see the train creeping down the slope toward them, she was frantically trying to get her camera loose to take a photo before it got too close. She failed, however, and the train doors hissed open in front of them. The crowded platform leaned forward in anticipation, waiting for the passengers to exit the cars. As soon as the train was empty, Claire scrambled forward and grabbed a spot in front of a huge window that would give a rear-looking view as they went up the mountain.

  “Maybe we’ll see monkeys!” she said, still struggling with her camera.

  Satish took his place standing next to her and helped her disentangle herself. “I’m not sure there are still monkeys in this forest, but you never know.”

  The train started up the tracks and Claire turned eagerly to the window to watch their progress. Satish turned with her. It was unfortunate that he had been to Rio three times before and had never made an effort to get out and see the city. He was amazed that he was even doing it now.

  After the airport fiasco, he and Claire had returned to the hotel—Claire to her room to rest and recover, and Satish to his room to take care of a few things that were gnawing on his mind. Because of her, he had done something else he had never done before, and he had called Phil for a personal discussion. Although it was a work day, Phil had seemed surprised to hear from him when he had answered.

  “Shouldn’t you be on your way to the airport by now? Aren’t you flying home this morning?”

  “The flight is this afternoon,” Satish said, “but I need to stay another day.”

  “Everything okay?” asked Phil. “I thought everyone was leaving this morning.”

  “They are. Something personal has come up.”

  Phil was quiet on the other end of the line. How sad it was that they had been working so closely for three years now, yet Phil did not feel comfortable enough to ask about a personal situation. Satish wondered why he hadn’t made more of an effort.

  “I actually called to ask you a non-work-related question. Would you mind?”

  “Not at all,” Phil sounded surprised. “What is it?”

  “What does your gut tell you about Nick Hamner? Is all the office gossip true?” Satish asked.

  It went quiet on the other end of the line, and then Satish heard Phil take a deep breath.

  “I suppose it depends on which rumor. If you are asking about Claire, I highly doubt that—”

  “No, No,” Satish interrupted, “not Claire. Do you know anyone named Maureen?”

  “Oh, boy,” Phil said. “Yeah, I know about Maureen. First, just let me say that Nick Hamner is a total asshole, excuse my French. Anything he tries to tell you is completely untrue—I can guarantee you that.”

  “Don’t worry, Phil, I’m not talking to Nick. I just heard something about Maureen and I was wondering if you knew anything about what happened.”

  “Yeah, I know some of it,” he said. “Most everyone who has been here for a few years does. Nick started a relationship with a shy, insecure, vulnerable girl who had no idea that he was married. When she found out, he left her and she was devastated. It was painful watching Maureen go through everything so publicly. She’s a good kid and has some real talent, but Nick made sure she has stayed in what he believes is her place. I’m not sure how he did it, but he basically ruined her career.”

  “Why wouldn’t she just leave the company and go somewhere else?” Satish asked.

  “With no references?” Phil asked. “Look, Maureen was a wall-flower before she got here. I can’t imagine that what happened did much for her confidence.” He paused and then coughed uncomfortably. “Can I ask, Satish, why you are interested in all this stuff? I thought you kept out of office affairs.”

  “Yes, well, maybe I realized I should pay more attention. I am just trying to get all my facts straight. Thanks for your candor. I need to make a few phone calls, now.”

  “No problem, Satish. If you want to talk about it, we could always catch a beer some time when you get back.”

  “Thank you, Phil. I would like that.”

  The next two hours Satish had spent on the phone. It had not been the best two hours of his life. There had been moments in which he had never felt so uncomfortable, yet at the end, he’d been incredibly satisfied. In fact, those had been the most satisfying two hours he had ever spent doing something not work-related.

  He realized that, although he prided himself on being a selfless person, he wasn’t selfless. Sure, he’d spent all his time working toward his father’s goals and none on social or personal activities, but was that selfless? After all, he enjoyed his work immensely and didn’t have any outside interests. Had he done anything lately for anyone outside of his family? Did working exclusively toward his father’s personal goals qualify as selfless? Satish had pledged to spend more time becoming socially aware and looking out for those around him.

  He had been fretting over this new concern when Claire had knocked on his door. She’d been napped and refreshed and wanting company. It was his new pledge, as well as her pink skin and soft, yellow sundress that had made him do something he had never done before. He’d shut down his computer, took the day off of work, and went to explore Rio.

  Claire and Satish stood at the top of Corcovado Mountain after a leg-numbing two-hundred and twenty steps. Satish had suggested the escalator, but she had refused, saying the climb was part of the journey. His head was hot and pounding and he wished he had brought a hat. He stared enviously at Claire’s NYPD baseball cap, which had appeared from her bag before the climb, and he realized he didn’t own a single hat, much less a casual baseball cap.

  Claire went to use the rest room and he stood at the edge of the long wall lining the platform, trying to decide whether to look up or down. The view of the city from here was incredible. He could see boats on the horizon of the long stretch of ocean that formed the backdrop of the most realistic oil painting he ha
d ever seen. He couldn’t believe he was standing here and that this view was real. The beach was a yellow silk ribbon woven around the city, holding in the frenetic human life that threatened to spill over into the water. Sugarloaf took its place with pride, standing tall and majestic, dripping with the golden chains of the cable cars that took visitors to the lush, tropical peaks. The physical location of this city gave it power over human emotion, which was hard to ignore. Satish was already feeling a little overwhelmed, but then he looked up, and was surprised to feel his eyes fill with tears.

  He had been honest when he told Claire he wasn’t a religious person—he didn’t believe in that mysterious, elusive emotion called “faith.” As he looked up at the statue of Christ the Redeemer, however, he felt that faith must be real. The person who had created this piece of art had been guided by something; whether it was God or simply faith, Satish didn’t know. What Satish did know was that this statue was inspired. A soft, gentle face and a massive, breath-taking expanse of arms stretched over a pulsing city of millions, visible from every point in Rio, cradling its occupants in protection and love. He breathed in and deeply enjoyed a moment of complete tranquility and contentment.

  “Beautiful, isn’t he?” He looked down at Claire, who had silently appeared at his elbow. “It sort of makes you wish you were religious, don’t you think?” She turned to Satish and handed him a bottle of water and a baseball cap with “Copacabana” sprawled across the brim. “Sort of makes you wish there was something in your life that could always make you feel that good, just by looking at it.”

  “You do,” said Satish before he realized he was saying it out loud.

  She had perched her sunglasses on top of her head, so she squinted as she tried to look up into Satish’s eyes. He cheeks were already flushed a soft pink from the exertion of the climb, but now they flushed even deeper. “I do what?” she asked.