Maybe this is for the best.
Maybe he won’t call me ever again.
I won’t lie, Jagger’s been fun. I’ve not felt swept off my feet like this for a long time, exactly like this, maybe never. That chance to explore whatever it is that we’ve been doing has been illuminating. It’s helped me see the skepticism that I hold for all men, after the disaster with Stefan. And I think it’s helped me to let go of it. Or to start at least.
But I have more immediate concerns now. Getting a job. Getting a place. Getting my life together. A hunky, gorgeous pilot who gives me the best sex of my life and wants to take me to fancy cocktail bars is nice, but I’ve got to remember that in the real world, men like him aren’t always around. Even now, at this stage we’ve known each other, he’s always busy jetting around back and forth.
Could I even let our thing go to the next level while being okay with not seeing him for days and weeks at a time? Phone calls aren’t usually my thing — but it is for Jagger. He’s not a texting man. He likes his one-on-one time. I think he wants the immediate attention. I don’t blame him for that, but it’s an adjustment for me.
If he was less hot, and way less attentive, this would be an easy dilemma to get out of. But he’s perfect, in a way that seems too good to be true. I find myself happier than I’ve been for a long time, whenever I get to spend time with him, whether it’s on the phone, or out on a date with him, or in bed.
The story of the princess in the tower finds its own parallels with me. I’m trapped, too, but not by a wicked king. My trap is my own work, the result of everything crashing down at the wrong time for me. I could definitely use a thief who’ll steal my heart and take me from my tower. But that’s a fairy tale. A fairy tale love story.
Those stories are for little girls. And as much as I cherish the part of me that has all my childlike wonder, I’m a grown woman.
EIGHTEEN
H, AM I glad to be home.
Another smooth landing. Julien offers me his congratulations on a smooth, uneventful series of flights.
“Let’s not do that again,” I joke.
“Uneventful flights?”
“No, the bit about the series. I’ll do return flights for a while, no need for the world tours,” I remark. “You did good, Julien. Hope I’ll work with you again.”
“You’re the captain,” he says, cracking a grin. “I think you’re in charge of your own roster, anyway.”
“Sure am,” I wink, lifting my pilot’s cap off my head. I exit the cockpit and nod to everyone in the cabin: our big-shot client, his entourage, Serena and other attendants.
We’re the only flight scheduled for the private jet terminal today, so we have a prime landing spot. There are two cars waiting on the runway. “Didn’t know he needs two cars for a tiny entourage of three,” I mention to Serena.
“Actually…” she says, her voice trailing off.
“Yes, Serena?”
“Jag, the second car’s for you. It’s business. I’m supposed to take you to the car.”
It’s not like Serena to be all cloak-and-dagger, making it sound like I’m in trouble with the government or something. I let everyone deplane before Serena and I begin to climb down the steps to the runway. I salute the bag boys, letting Serena walk ahead of me towards the silver Cadillac waiting.
Silver, at least, not black. I’m not in trouble with the government.
The windows are tinted, so I can’t make out who’s inside until Serena opens the door for me.
Then I see Miss Karina.
I have a ton of more important engagements than having to deal with this woman who’s gone out of her way to ruin my reputation.
Hell, Alexa didn’t answer when I called her after landing the plane. Twice! I’d rather call her back, than deal with Miss Karina.
The socialite gestures for me to get in the car.
“Don’t worry, we’re not going anywhere,” she says. “I just want to discuss a business opportunity with you.”
I glance back at Serena, but she’s already walking to the airport terminal building. As reluctant as I am to give Karina the time of day, I slip into the car.
“Alright, I’ll hear you out,” I say, sounding guarded.
“I’d like you to pilot for me again.”
“That seems obvious,” I smile. “The thing is, why would you want that when you can have someone like Will? He’s good enough for the job, and he’ll even bang you in the back. In-flight entertainment, right there.”
To her credit, she doesn’t make a face at my remarks. “I want the best, and you’re the best. This isn’t your average flight. I hear you just got back from a long tour. How many flights was that?”
“Six or seven,” I say, shrugging.
“I want a twelve-stop world tour. Five continents. A hundred and twenty people. I’ve got the jet for this, it’s for a band I’m sponsoring. They’re doing their first tour,” she explains. “I’ll give you a signing bonus. Three hundred grand, on top of your normal per-flight rates.”
“That’s way more money than any pilot should be getting paid,” I say, eyeing her carefully.
“Maybe this financial agreement we can make might help to facilitate some,” she looked me in the eye, “Some extra duties, aboard and abroad,” Miss Karina hints.
“What sort of extra duties? Because I’m not smuggling drugs for you, I know how rock stars get,” I say.
“Not that kind! Jesus, Jagger. I mean the kind you declined the last time. Personal service for me.”
“Fuck’s sake,” I bring a hand to my face, massaging my temple. “You want to pay me three hundred thousand dollars so I can fuck you? What the hell?”
“Not just me, not necessarily,” she points out. “Perhaps other women too. Exotic beauties we’ll meet on every stop. Long nights of passion, in the plane. An absolute orgy of excitement. Surely you’re interested in that, Jagger? The payment is for your discretion, and for you to feel less… uptight.”
I keep massaging my face, feeling a migraine coming along. “And you’ll only table this offer to me?”
“If I had another pilot whose cock I want inside me as much as yours, I would have gone to them instead,” Miss Karina says. “It also goes without saying that I do not want any more drama aboard the plane like the last time. No absurd tricks to shave time off, by flying straight into a storm.”
“Time is money,” I shrug.
“Three hundred grand is money. Think about it.”
“I’ve already thought about it. You can hear my answer when you get your driver to roll us up to the terminal,” I tell her, and the car starts moving. When it comes to a halt outside the door, I say, “I’ve thought about it. Answer is no.”
“You’re making a huge mistake,” the socialite says, shaking her head. “What a shame. Now I’ll have to spend a month flying with no entertainment on board.”
“Start doing the crossword,” I shrug, reaching for the door. I leave her with a nice smile. “Been nice talking. The answer’s still no.”
Serena’s sitting alone with her bags, as I walk to the corporate office. “You waiting on me?” I ask her as I pass.
“Waiting for a friend to pick me up,” she says, sounding tired. “But I won’t turn down having you pick me up instead, actually.”
I laugh. “Now, you see… I’m really drained when it comes to turning down hot women’s attempts to climb aboard my dick today. Sorry, doll, but no way, no how. Were you in on the job too?”
“With Miss Karina? No. She only asked me for our flight itinerary, and told me to take you to her car when we landed,” Serena says. She’s sounding a little defensive, like she knows I might get upset with her if she said yes.
“Want to hear a crazy story? You’ll love it. That is, if your friend isn’t going to have to wait a long while for you. Knowing you and your irrepressible urge to have sex with someone as soon as you land somewhere, after all, Serena…”
“Wrong type of friend. Col
lege roommate. A girl. And yes, while I’m interested in girls, I’m not interested in Connie.”
“How about Miss Karina?”
Serena shrugs. “She’s not unsexy,” she says. “Well, what’s the story?”
I keep telling women stories these days. Goddamn. I immediately recap for Serena the job offer I received, down to every detail, including the promise of orgies in the air, and my giant pay-off.
“That’s insane,” she laughs. “And you said no?”
“There’s that old adage about never fucking crazy…”
Serena raises an eyebrow. “Or you could just be upfront and tell her you’re in a relationship.”
“Not in a relationship,” I shake my head. “It’s complicated.”
“If that’s the case, who’s being the idiot? Her or you?”
The pointed remark has me questioning the situation. “Well, shit, that’s a goddamn good question.”
“Must be you, then,” Serena says. She stands up as her phone starts to ring. I let her quickly take the call. When she’s done, she nods at me. “Got to run. So if this is about you and your girl… stop being an idiot, Jag. Go after her. You’ve never been like this for anyone before. Don’t let it slip past you. Even I’ve been in that position before. Don’t let yourself be consumed by your regrets. Go get the girl, you idiot.”
I’m having trouble getting through with Alexa. I called her again, but she still hasn’t picked up. No messages from her, either, but we don’t really talk like that.
A little discouraging, to not be able to connect with her. It’s not like I’m desperate to talk to her, but we did solidify a plan to meet now that I’m back. For her to avoid my calls makes me feel like she’s trying her hardest to not see me.
Worse, I realize there’s almost nothing I know about her. I don’t know where she lives, or even which part of town that is. I’ve always taken her disinterest in telling me anything about her home life as being part and parcel of the independent streak in her she clearly cares about.
I have no way to get in touch with her if she’s avoiding my calls, and at first, my thought is to just sit back and let her come to me instead. But that sounds like a poor compromise.
So, dispelling my doubts that pursuing Alexa like this might not be a good choice after all, I start to figure out a plan.
How can I find her?
I don’t know anything about her work — I’ve always just assumed she doesn’t need to work, coming from money. It doesn’t matter to me if she works or not, but it would have been great if I knew something about it, so I could have an easier time finding her.
And friends? Well, I know she had that one friend who was at the party with Miss Karina, but I don’t know her name.
Wait. The party.
Tracking back to our first night together, I try to remember how she got home. I vaguely recall offering to get her a car. She said no, but she must have found her way home some other way.
So I go to the hotel, and head straight for reception. “Ah, Mr. McCann, so good to see you again,” the receptionist says. “I don’t see a reservation with your name. Is this a walk-in stay?”
“Not really,” I shake my head, glancing at the receptionist’s name tag to get her name. “Hey, Marie, can you help me out? Were you working the night I had a comped hotel room thanks to the club opening party Karina Hildebrand held? This might be a stretch, but I was wondering if you could help me out with some information.”
“I wasn’t on the staff that night, but of course, Mr. McCann, I’m more than happy to assist you with any information you need,” Marie smiles helpfully.
“I met a friend that night. Woman by the name of Alexa. She, uh, didn’t stay the night with me, so I’m assuming she went down to the lobby and asked reception to call her a cab. Do you think you could check to see if anyone matching that name called one?”
“What time would this be around?” Marie asks, pushing her glasses up to the bridge of her nose as she consults with her computer.
“Maybe two or three in the morning?”
“Let’s see. Yes. I’ve found a cab for an Alexa to 1621 Sixth Avenue,” she says. “I don’t have anything else. I hope that’s helpful enough!”
I nod to her. “Sure is. Thanks a lot, Marie. That’s really great. 1621 Sixth Avenue, was it?”
“That’s right. Would you like me to call you a cab to that destination?”
“Perfect,” I smile. As she reaches for the phone, I dig into my pockets and find her a tip.
She smiles at the fifty dollar bill. “That’s very generous of you, Mr. McCann.”
“You were very helpful.”
My cab arrives promptly and I tell him exactly where I want to go. About ten minutes later, I’m pulling up in front of a beautiful building with French windows and ornate little balconies. Yeah, this is exactly the sort of place I’d associate with Alexa.
Sophisticated.
I walk up to the lobby, looking around for a doorman. He emerges from another room. “Yes, sir, can I help you?”
“Could you notify Alexa that she’s got a visitor, please?”
“Oh! Alexa no longer lives here, I’m afraid,” the doorman says, giving me a sympathetic look.
I look up the stairs. There’s the sound of a door closing. It feels a little like my heart.
“What, really?”
“This took place just over the last few days,” the doorman says. “I’m very sorry for your trouble.”
“Damn. Okay, wait. Do you have any information about where she went? Or her workplace? I need to get in touch with her but she’s not picking up my calls. It’s urgent.”
The doorman looks at me, clearly trying to assess whether I’m worth helping. “There might be a forwarding address but I’m afraid that’s not something I should share.”
“Would you share it for this?” I ask, pulling out a hundred dollar bill.
He’s a lot more accommodating now. “Of course, sir,” he says, turning away from me to retrieve some mail. “These arrived for her today. Perhaps you can also save me the trouble of having to have these forwarded to her. Personal courier, no?”
“Sure, sure,” I tell him. “And the address?”
“I have it right here,” he says. It’s written down on a small Post-it note. The handwriting is clearly a woman’s. Alexa’s, I’m sure.
We make our exchange: a hundred dollars for her address.
As I begin to turn away, I see a pretty woman with dyed platinum blonde hair, walk past me. Something’s familiar about her. I try to figure out if we’ve somehow slept together before.
No, it’s not that.
She turns around and meets my gaze, but I look away. She has an interested look, but I’m not interested in her — just who she is.
It’s only after she exits the building that I realize what it was I recognize.
That dress. That’s Alexa’s dress.
What the hell is going on here?
If I have to keep shelling out huge tips like this, I’m going to have to take Miss Karina up on that job offer.
Captain Charming (Tales of 1001 Flights) Page 14
