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The plane.
Fuck.
“You should’ve been on already. Where are you?”
I didn’t know what to say.
“Ma’am?” The officer raised an eyebrow. “Everything all right?”
There was a silence not only on the other end of the phone, but in my whole head, for what felt like an eternity before Elliot spoke up.
“Fuck it. Give the phone to whoever you’re talking to. I’ll handle this.”
I did so without question. My head as spinning. I couldn’t even concentrate on my own breathing.
LOOKS AREN’T ALWAYS DECEIVING
Was it a threat?
No shit it was a threat.
With a grunt, the officer took the phone out of my hand and placed the drug test back on the table behind him. I watched as he pressed the phone to his ear, and his expression changed from irritation to mild perplexity. He nodded a few times, as if Elliot were here reading off some lengthy to-do list, and finally handed the phone back to me.
“It’ll be fine,” he said. “My dad has a friend who does private flights from here to England. The officer guy is gonna show you where to go. Just tell them Elliot told you to come to them. I’ll give ‘em a call right now. We’re getting you on a plane no matter what.”
He hung up.
In a slight daze, I lowered the phone from my ear. On the one hand, I was relieved—he’d help me out, everything would be okay. I’d get to see Pierre.
On the other …
“I’m still going to need to administer this, young lady,” the officer said, letting out a gruff sigh as he held the small contraption out toward me once again. “Tip of your finger here, please.”
I placed my finger on the small rectangular pad, and waited.
“Looks like you’re clean,” the officer said, sounding a little too surprised. I mean, come on. “You can follow me, miss.”
I thanked Elliot silently in my head, wishing I could’ve done so to his face, or at least before he hung up the phone. It was weird. Even when he was mad, or annoyed, or whatever it was he was feeling, he still made somewhat of an effort to be a gentleman. Just like that night when he offered me a ride home from that shitty party. Sure, he could’ve just done it to get into my pants—but I had wanted it then, too.
Whatever.
I shook my head, more at myself than at anything else, as we got into an elevator. We went down a few levels, and the door opened to a garage-like setting. The officer let me out first, and then led me out into the open, where three small jets stood before us. In front of one of them stood a pilot, a wide smile on his face. He reached out his hand toward me as we approached, and the officer left my side.
“Miss Silver,” he said as we shook hands. “I am aware of the situation and am happy to help.”
I had to keep myself from letting out a snort. That knife in my suitcase might as well have been a magic wand—transformed me into a fucking princess in the eyes of everyone but myself.
Half-expecting the pilot to kiss the back of my hand, I pulled it away from him.
“Follow me,” he said, turning around to walk up the short set of steps that had folded down onto the concrete.
We entered the plane, and I was greeted by a smell as if the plane had overdosed on Febreze, and a double row of plump, cream-colored armchairs, TV screens adjacent to the furniture. It seemed like there were just two flight attendants, one who was chatting with the copilot, and the other who was rustling around in the back. Guess I was their sole passenger.
I turned around, looking for the pilot. He was shutting the cabin door.
“Hey, um,” I said, and flinched when he looked up with an almost too high-on-life grin. “Thank you for, uh, helping me out. I hope it’s not disrupting your schedule, or—”
“Please, Miss Silver, it’s a pleasure,” the pilot said, putting. Hand on my shoulder to guide me to a seat, taking my duffel to hoist it up into a carry-on compartment. “Since summer is almost over, it’s the slow season, anyway. We’re happy to pick up business whenever we can. So, for that, I thank you.”
