The morning stillness, the gentle desert breeze, and the delicious food were all helping to calm me down. Jack reached over and took my hand. “Better?” I nodded and he squeezed my hand. “Ok, how long do we have till we have to check out?”
“We have till noon to check out, but we’d better get going within the hour so we’re at the airport in plenty of time.” Then it hit me that I didn’t know his travel plans. “You are flying out today, right? What time is your flight?” He filled me in on his travel itinerary.
The same time as me? The same flight? What a coincidence, I thought wryly. It was either a coincidence, or Jack had been busy behind my back. But either way it didn’t matter. It just made the logistics easier when we could go to the airport together. It’s not like we’d be seated next to each other again. The odds of that happening were about the same as the Pope installing a disco ball in the Sistine Chapel.
We called a porter to take our bags down. Jack and I followed him, hand in hand. I’m pretty sure we didn’t need to pretend to be a couple for the benefit of the Luxe people anymore, but it felt nice to hold hands, so I didn’t object.
At the front desk there was a line forming. Scott was heaping praise on the reception staff, telling them how pleased he was with their facility, with the service, the food, and was liable to keep going, so I placed a friendly hand on his back to interrupt. He turned, all smiles, and gave each of us a warm handshake, and then gave Jack a slap on the back.
“Eve and Jack, it has been a genuine pleasure. I hope we get to meet again in the future. And I do hope you’ll use the couple’s spa day certificate.”
I gave him a warm smile and assured him that I, too, had enjoyed working with him and hoped to see him again, soon. Jack gave him a broad smile and promised again to pass along the info to his rep. “It’s been a pleasure, Scott!” All smiles, Scott followed the porter outside with his bags.
Patrice, who was again anchoring reception, had a large smile for me and an even bigger one for Jack. I, too, sang the praises of the hotel and assured her that my boss would receive a very favorable report on them. She handed the bill over for me to sign. As I was skimming through the charges, I saw that she was sliding a paper over toward Jack. She whispered, “Could you sign this for me, please?” He flashed his megawatt smile and said, “Sure. Should I make it to you, Patrice?” She glowed a red that rivaled an Arizona sunset and whispered, “Yes, please.”
Technically, the staff of any quality hotel should feign indifference toward celebrity guests, keeping their excited squeals to the staff break room. Jack must have really ranked high in her book for her to break the rules like this. I suspected that she was also the one who’d helped him to get his luggage to my room.
He signed with a flourish and handed it to her, along with the pen and a sexy smile. I hoped that someone here knew CPR because she looked like she might have a heart attack as she clutched her trophy to her chest.
We followed our luggage outside where the valet was just pulling up with the rental car. As the porter started loading our bags into the trunk, Jack slid his arm around my waist and leaned down to nuzzle my neck.
“Jack, Scott’s gone. We don’t need to put on a show for him anymore,” I reminded him.
“Oh, this isn’t for you. It’s for me. I want Patrice to know I’m unavailable. I’m a little bit scared that she might track me down and try to have her way with me.”
I swatted at his arm. “Oh, poor you. Relentlessly hunted for being too talented and good looking. It must be terrible to wake up being you in the morning.”
He looked into my eyes and replied, “It’s not so bad, if you’re there, Eve.”
Leaving me flustered, he gently pulled me to the car, opened the door for me, and helped me in.
On the way to the airport, Jack drove expertly, navigating the turn-offs with ease. It was nice to have him in charge here. I hated trying to find my way around in a new city.
We made it to the airport with plenty of time to spare, checking in the rental car, going through the TSA lines, and finding seats in the gate lounge. I checked my watch, and satisfied that we were in no hurry, pulled out my phone to check for messages.
“I’m going to get a cup of coffee. Can I bring you anything, Eve?” Jack asked, standing up.
I shook my head, eyes focused on emails from my boss. “No thanks.” There was a string of emails, all with the Subject of LUXE??. It looked like it was time to get back to work.
I’d worked my way through three emails, writing detailed responses, when I noticed Jack was still not back. Odd. Where could he be? How long could the line at Starbucks be? I was a bit concerned, but it wasn’t like I could go looking for him. All our bags were here, and I certainly couldn’t leave them unattended.
I realized with frustration that I didn’t know his phone number, so I couldn’t call him. The boarding time was approaching, and I was getting worried. Having no other choice, I stuffed my handbag into my carry-on and grabbed my bag and Jack’s. Ugh, what did that man pack? Bricks? Just so he could get a bonus workout in carrying his bag?
I trudged up the walkway toward the Starbucks, muttering under my breath that if Jack was being irresponsible and he had just lost track of time while chatting up the barista, words were going to be had. Harsh words.
Approaching the Starbucks I could see that the line had swelled into a crowd. And at the center of the crowd, looking anxious and buffeted, was Jack. I could see the pens and napkins being waved in his face and the delighted shrieks of his fans as they pressed in on him, making escape impossible.
His eyes caught mine and sent a desperate plea. “HELP ME!”
Oh boy. Well, once more into the fray. I summoned the strength of my Norwegian ancestors, and wielding, not battle axes, but carry-on luggage, I went to save Jack.
Loudly, as though in a fury, I shouted, “What are you doing? Our plane is leaving soon. Knock it off!”
Using the carry-ons as battering rams I forced my way to the center of the mob. I grabbed Jack, handed him his bag, and we pushed all obstacles out of our way as we returned to the lounge. Some of the more tenacious groupies followed and I dragged Jack up to the boarding desk.
“Hello, we have a bit of a situation here. This is Jack Garcia.” I could see the boarding agent’s eyes get as big as saucers. “He is currently being mobbed, stalked, and harassed. Is there a safe place he can go until our plane boards?”
“I’m s-s-so s-sorry,” she stuttered. “We don’t have anything l-l-like that. Unless you’re flying first class. Then there is the first-class lounge which has security.”
