Excitement blooms in my chest and I clutch the boarding pass tighter, slinging the bag over my shoulder. I don’t make it a single step before Rosie’s voice grabs my attention again.
“Hey, Punk Princess!” She sticks her head out of her office. “Called you a car. It’ll be here in five.”
A giddy, bubbling feeling erupts in my chest. “You’re the best,” I shout back.
Spinning on my heel, I’m grinning like an idiot when I push through the doors of Andromeda, the sunlight warm but blinding.
Nerves settle as I wait for the car, palms sweating as the reality sinks in. My small city buzzes around me, but it seems like time stands still as I wait for my car.
Finally, it shows up, and I pull open the door, smiling at the older gentleman as I slide into the backseat.
Just as my seatbelt clicks into place, my phone buzzes. I bite my lip, hands trembling slightly with nervous energy—or is it excitement?
Golden Boy
See you soon, Trouble.
I don’t respond, but lean back against my seat and clutch the phone to my chest like it’s a lifeline as Ridgewood blurs past my window.
I’m on my way to the airport. I’m going to Manhattan.
And Gareth is waiting for me.
By the time the plane touches down at LaGuardia, I’m a ball of nerves, my chest tight from the anxiety of landing. The plane feels like it’s going way too fast for the runway; the howling of the wheels grinding to a stop scream through the cabin.
Finally, when the plane slows and we’re taxiing to the gate, I let out a breath.
I’m here.
Powering my phone back up, I check the time, not bothering to send Gareth a message. I knew by the time I arrived his game would have already started. Hopefully I’ll make it for at least half the game. I spent the entire flight agonizing over whether I should rent a car or just call for a rideshare, ultimately deciding to just get a cab. It’ll be the quickest option.
The passengers ahead of me start to get off the plane, so I stand, reaching for my bag in the overhead compartment. It was small enough to be stowed as a carry-on, and I’m grateful not to have to wait for a checked bag.
When I step out of the tunnel and into the terminal, I’m hit with a wave of impatient chatter, loudspeaker announcements, and the scent of coffee from the small coffee bar across from the gate. All around me, anxious travelers drag suitcases, and accents and different languages overlap as groups pass me by.
I walk as quickly as my feet will carry me, following the signs to baggage claim knowing that’s the way out. Hopping onto an escalator, I take it down, checking the time on my phone again.
The game just started.
When I step off, I look up, spotting my name, neatly written on a sign in bold black marker, held by a man in a nice black suit.
Gareth really thought of everything.
Approaching the man, I give a small wave. “Hi. I’m Indy Archer.”
He nods, lowering the sign like he’s tired of holding it. “Charles Pierce, Ms. Archer. Pleasure to meet you. Let’s get you over to the stadium.”
Charles leads me to a black town car idling by the curb just outside the automatic doors and opens the passenger door. A man sitting in the driver's seat surprises me, but he tips his hat and offers me a warm smile. “Hello Ms. Archer, I’m Stewart. How was your flight?”
I pull my seatbelt across my lap, buckling it into place. “It was good, thank you.”
“Mr. Fox has given us instructions for you to leave your bag in the car while you’re enjoying the game.” Stewart makes eye contact with me from the rearview mirror before pulling out onto the street. “We will be in the back lot waiting for him to call when you’re ready to be picked up and taken to your next destination.”
“Where is the next destination?” I ask curiously, peeking at my phone again.
“Mr. Fox thought you might ask that question, and due to his excellent intuition, I’ve been instructed not to say.” He flashes me an apologetic smile through the mirror.
I return it graciously.
