“If you’d packed more brain cells, maybe you could walk straight,” Kat shot back, making Wren snort with laughter.
Rory jogged past all of us, somehow balancing four coffees and a bag of airport muffins. “Final boarding call for flight 237 to Dublin, Ireland,” the announcement echoed through the terminal. “Final boarding call.”
“Fuck!” Declan shouted, loud enough that a nearby mother covered her toddler’s ears and glared at him. “Sorry,” he mumbled, then turned back to us. “Move your asses!”
I took a moment to appreciate the vein throbbing in Declan’s forehead. It was practically hypnotic. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re incredibly high-strung?” I asked him, taking a quick sip from my flask, when he turned away.
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re incrediblyunemployable?” he snapped back.
“Many times. Usually right before they hire me anyway.”
Declan breaks out into a full sprint now, his boots slapping against the polished floor. A group of nuns scattered before him like pigeons.
“Bless me, Sisters!” I called as we followed in his wake. “I’ve sinned considerably!”
“Kane, for God’s sake,” Kat hissed, but I caught the smile she tried to hide.
Catching up to Declan, we rounded another corner, and I crashed directly into a janitor’s cart, sending cleaning supplies scattering across the terminal floor. The janitor unleashed a string of what I assumed were Spanish curses.
“Lo siento,” I offered with an apologetic smile, trying to pick up a spray bottle but somehow knocking over three more in the process.
“Leave it!” Declan grabbed my collar and yanked me forward.
Wren and Kat finally caught up, both breathing heavily.
“Next time,” Wren gasped, adjusting her sunglasses, “we take the moving walkway instead of following Declan’s ‘shortcut’ through the food court.”
“There wouldn’t have been a shortcut necessaryif Kane had gotten us here on time,” Declan growled.
“Technically,” I pointed out, “I was here exactly when you told me to be. I was just at the wrong terminal. Easy mistake.”
“There are signs everywhere!”
“I’m not a signs kind of guy, Declan. I’m more of a walk around and I’ll eventually find it, kind of guy.”
Rory reappeared, now somehow carrying our boarding passes in addition to the coffees. “Gate’s this way. They’re holding the door, but only for another two minutes.”
“How did you manage that?” Kat asked, impressed.
Rory shrugged. “Told them we’re traveling for a family funeral.”
“We don’t have a funeral,” Wren said.
“We might, if Declan murders Kane before we reach the gate,” Rory replied.
I stumbled again, this time nearly taking out an elderly couple with matching neck pillows. “Sorry, folks! Family emergency!”
“Gate C36!” Declan shouted, pointing ahead where a flight attendant was impatiently checking her watch by the jetway door.
We all broke into a run—well, four of us ran. I performed what might generously be called a “controlled forward momentum,” bouncing offseveral walls.
“Wait!” I called out suddenly, stopping dead in my tracks.
Everyone turned to look at me with varying degrees of murderous intent.
“I need to pee.”
“You have got to be kidding me.” Declan’s face went from red to purple. “We are literally twenty feet from the gate!”
