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“This leads to the main terminal for international arrivals. You’ll be meeting your party here.” He turns to Zane, “Have you contacted your driver?”
Zane looks up from his phone where he’s been rapidly texting since we landed. “Yes, our driver is here waiting.”
“Okay, do you want to go out first so Mr. Reynolds doesn’t have to spend time in the terminal looking for your friend?” Stu asks.
Zane shifts his eyes to me, silently asking me what I want to do.
“No, let’s just go. I’m sure no one will see me,” I say with little confidence. “I’ve got my hat and my sunglasses on, so it’s as good as it gets.”
“If it helps, the paparazzi don’t hang out here,” Stu says. “They usually wait at the end of the secure area on the other side of the terminal. If anyone sees you, it’ll just be a regular fan and you’ll be out of here before the professionals can get to you.”
“Good enough.” I turn to Zane. “Let’s go. I guess I’ll follow you since you know where we’re going.”
“Okay, we need to go to…” he checks his phone again, “the exit where the hire car desks are.”
Stu smiles, “Perfect, that’s right outside this door. Follow me.”
Stu shoves open the door and heads out into the loud baggage area. Zane follows behind, presumably scanning the space for our driver. I keep my head down as much as possible, focusing on Zane’s legs so I don’t trip on anything or bump into anyone.
“We’re going to meet up with our contact and go straight out to the car,” Zane says as we walk quickly across the space. His phone buzzes. “She’s seen us and is going to lead us outside to where the car is parked. Stu’s spotted her so we don’t have to stop.”
We move so fast it’s practically a sprint through baggage claim and outside to the curb. Before I know what’s happening, Zane has shoved me into the backseat of a sedan and Stu is loading our luggage in the boot. Doors slam shut all around me and I finally meet the organizer of this little excursion who has settled comfortably behind the wheel and is pulling out into the heavy airport traffic.
“Hello Adam, nice to finally meet you in person,” she says from the front seat.
“Right, you must be Gemma. That was without a doubt the smoothest, fastest airport pick up I’ve ever experienced.” I laugh in a weak attempt to calm my frayed nerves.
She turns slightly so I can see her smile. “I’m just that good at making things happen.”
“That you are,” I mutter under my breath as I settle back on the seat and try to get comfortable. “So,” I say self-consciously, “how did you manage to get my personal mobile number?”
“I have my ways. I would tell you, but then the American government would have to kill you.” I can see the side of her face and know that she’s grinning. “I’m still shocked that you didn’t hang up on me.”
“I thought about it,” I chuckle. “Then you kept talking and you were so believable I figured I give you a listen and hang up on you after.” I pause, my demeanor becoming more serious. “When you texted me a picture of Ellie, I knew you weren’t just a crazy fan.”
Gemma had rung me last week claiming to be a good friend of Ellie’s. I wanted to hang up on her right away, the shock of hearing Ellie’s name after so long was too painful. But I let her talk, thinking that at the worst, she was just an over-enthusiastic reporter trying to get me to spill my guts.
She told me that she was Ellie’s best friend and that Ellie had been trying to get a message to me for months through my record label with no success. Gemma knew enough about Ellie to have me convinced she was telling the truth about two minutes into the conversation. She asked if I would be willing to fly over to the U.K. and I agreed without giving it a second thought.
“We’re going to get you checked into your hotel, then we’ll go over to the park,” Gemma says.
“Are we far from the hotel?” Zane asks, still typing away on his mobile non-stop. “I need to get some work done.”
“No, only a few more minutes,” she answers and her eyes flick to the review mirror and find mine. “Do you need to shower or change?”
“I should, but I really just want to see El.” Waiting a few more minutes after it’s been so long shouldn’t be a big deal, but it is. It’s torturous to know she’s nearby. I don’t know if I can wait any longer.
Gemma turns back to face me while we’re at a stop, her bright eyes looking over my disheveled appearance and my swollen shiner. “You can’t go like that, it’s gross. What happened to your face?” She scrunches her nose up at my battered jawline.
“I’m gross?” I ask, stunned yet slightly amused. No woman has called me gross in a very long time.
“Yes, gross. You can take a quick shower and put on something more… appropriate for the occasion.”
“Fine,” I growl angrily. I start to get mad, but then I realize how much she’s done for me, for Ellie, and I calm down. She only wants what’s best for her friend, I can manage a shower if she thinks I need one.
“I’m curious,” Gemma says.
“About what?”
