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Chapter 1
Alicia
“Youcan’tgoonlike this anymore. We’ve gotta do something.”
I groaned and burrowed a little more into the couch as if, somewhere within my fluffy cotton blanket, I’d be able to get away from the truth of what my brother was saying. On the TV, Josie Maran was busy cheerily endorsing a new kind of cream that promised to make the wearer look up to fifteen years younger.
“Seriously, Alicia. I mean it.”
I always missed my brother Sam when he was away, but as soon as he was home, I was reminded of just how annoying he could be. It had been two weeks since I’d been laid off from my last airline, a budget operation that had announced to all its employees via email that the company was bankrupt and we were out of a job. As I pondered this unfortunate turn of events, my brother marched over to the sofa, grabbed hold of the remote, and switched the TV off.
“Sam, comeon!” I said. “I was watching that!” “I mean it. You’re going for that interview.”
This wasn’t exactly how I’d imagined things would play out. Since we were young, my brother and I had loved flying. We’d grown up with our imaginations captured by my dad’s career. He’d been a test pilot for Boeing, and the family had been dragged across the states for years, finally settling in Chicago. My brother Sam had joined the Air Force. Unfortunately, my 20/300 [ML1] vision meant that I was never going to be a pilot, but I was still determined to spend every minute of my life on a plane if I could. After graduating high school, I’d become a flight attendant and had just celebrated my tenth anniversary working for Bolar Air. I had a job, a pension program, and a great salary. All gone now.
I sat up, rubbing my eyes before replacing my glasses, balancing them on my nose, and fixing Sam with a quizzical expression. I’ve never minded wearing glasses. Sure, they’re not part of the supermodel look if that’s what you’re looking for. But I’d never exactly been short of boyfriends, not with my gently curled auburn hair and a naturally curvy waist. Even if I was famously unlucky in love, I’d had no shortage of opportunities over the years.
“Who is this guy, anyway? You say he’s your best friend, but I’ve never met him. And why can’t I find a job at a normal airline where I won’t be working for some crazy billionaire with a death wish …”
Sam chuckled and sat on the arm of the couch. “You’d love working for Jake. And, for your information, you guys have never met because it took two years of training before he ever said a word to me. Jake’s not exactly the social type. You don’t end up owning your own airline unless you take life pretty seriously.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I said, lobbing one of the sofa cushions at Sam casually. My brother might not have been a fighter pilot for almost ten years now, but his reflexes were still sharp. He caught the cushion in his left hand before it even got close, and reached over to bop me on the head with it.
“You,” he said, bopping, “Will. Go. To. The. Interview. That’s it. End of conversation.”
I huffed and folded my arms, but I knew Sam was right. It wasn’t exactly like things were going swimmingly without his help. Try as I might, the thought of getting off my ass and looking through the job pages was too much to bear. Airline executives weren’t exactly jumping out of their seats to hire personnel right now. And as much as I tried to ridicule it, there was something pretty exciting about the idea of working for Jake Ryder. Not only was he a great boss and friend to Sam, but his airline was pretty legendary. Central American Airlines was one of those old-fashioned businesses which still hangs onto all its customer loyalty programs. Actually, I knew about it because just last year, its first-class and business-class sections had been rated the best in the country in a trade magazine I’d been reading aboard a redeye back home to Chicago. CAA also ran a private charter service, where it wined and dined some of the wealthiest clients in the northeast on private trips as far out as the Caribbean.
“Fine,” I said grumpily, but secretly pleased about the prospect of getting off the couch and doing something with my life. “Where’s the interview?”
“At his house,” said Sam. “Jake’s home for the weekend and he lives just up the road from us. He’s got a place near the park.”
“What?” I asked. “Lincoln Park?Jeez, I wonder how much that cost.”
“You can ask him when he calls,” said Sam, laughing. “I gave him your phone number.”
“Youwhat?” I said and quickly lobbed another cushion at him. My brother could be so embarrassing. I could picture him now, hat-in-hand, pleading on my behalf.
We lived down the road from the park, in Gold Coast. It was a gorgeous, leafy neighborhood full of brownstones, one of which had been bought way back when it was still cheap to buy there, by one Doctor and Mrs. Matlock, as they were expecting their first child. After they’d passed, Sam and I inherited the house, but neither of us could bring ourselves to sell it, even as the years went by and the prices in the neighborhood skyrocketed. Day after day, we got letters from agents informing us in an excited tone that we had a million dollars worth of real estate on our hands. But it didn’t change things between me and Sam. We loved our old house, and it hadn’t changed a bit since Mom and Dad died.
I looked out of the window and watched wistfully as a handful of cherry blossoms swooped past the glass, caught in the strong arms of a breeze. Lucky little blossoms, I thought. I hadn’t been in anyone’s strong arms lately … But things seemed to be changing around me. During the two weeks I’d spent moping over my shipwrecked career, winter had begun to turn, merrily, to spring. And, who knew, maybe a job with the exclusive CAA airlines was just what I needed to turn things around. I decided to pick myself up and walk while waiting for the elusive Mr. Ryder to call.
“Don’t forget to take your phone!” said Sam, and I rolled my eyes, planting it in my peacoat pocket. I pulled a hat on—while it wasn’t the most stylish getup, it was perfect for the temperature—and stepped out of the door.
Afterawhile,Ifound myself walking up North Wells until I finally hit the park. I was pleased to see that more than a few of the trees had begun to sprout tiny buds, or delicate green leaves had begun to overtake their bare, black branches. The park wasn’t my favorite place to go in the city—it was normally too crowded, especially down here by the history museum and the zoo. But it was nice to get out and see a neighborhood I hadn’t been to in a couple of months.
But the truth was, I hadn’t just decided to walk up to the park out of curiosity. In fact, I might have gone the other way into the city or caught a train going somewhere with a little more to my taste. After all, when I wasn’t working—which had seemed to be all the time at Bolar Air—I loved to go shopping with a friend, or I could have gone to Bensenville, where Sam liked to play golf, and therefore, a place I’d been dragged too many times over the years (mostly against my will) not to like a little. But on the one hand, I knew if I went up there, I’d have to pass by the airport, and that would make me sad. O’Hare isn’t one of the nicest airports in the world I’m not entirely sure if thereissuch a thing as a nice airport. But I knew I’d be too depressed, watching the planes take off and wishing I could be on one.
The other reason I hadn’t wanted to go into the city? I was curious about where the mysterious Jake Ryder lived. Okay, so he was rich—I knew that. And if I didn’t, I’d be able to guess from his postcode. Nicer apartments around Lincoln Park sold for tens of millions of dollars. If you were short on cash, it wasn’t exactly the kind of neighborhood you would pick. But aside from his immense wealth and the fact that he was some kind of war hero, I didn’t know much else about him. Sam seemed pretty sketchy on the details of his own best friend. Sometimes guys are just like that, I guess. Besides, I was pretty sure that when they were together, they probably didn’t talk about anything but flying. Over a small, trickling stream in the park, I leaned on a bench and watched some kids play for a while. I sighed and stared at my watch. I guess pretty soon it would be time to head back home, maybe make some dinner for me and Sam.
Slowly, I came out of my boredom-induced daydream. My phone was buzzing in my pocket. I must have accidentally left it on silent before I left the house. I pulled it out of my pocket, only to see it had gone quiet and still. I looked at the number which had just dialed me. I didn’t recognize it, and it didn’t show up in my contacts.
Crap! What if it was my new potential employer? Sam would never forgive me if I accidentally blew him off. I quickly called back. As my phone rang, I heard some guy’s voice behind me, and a group of girls giggling. I turned around to see what they were up to, but as I did, I heard the receiver click, and a deep, rough voice speak.
“Can Ihelpyou?”
That voice … well, that voice sent shudders down my spine. It was a warm, dark, bassy voice, with a slightly harsh edge. The person on the other end of the phone sounded like they were used to giving orders, that was for sure. And they sounded almost angry.
“I’m sorry,” I stammered, practically knocked off my feet by the sheer strength of the voice, its commanding tone, and slightly irritated inflection. “My name’s Alicia Matlock. Is this … Mr. Ryder?”
