I was too busy thinking about how Gio had been shooting up for the last time while I’d been making love to my wife. I’d been starting a new life while Gio had been ending his.
Fuck
Fuck!
“I’m sorry, but we don’t have a booking for a Saylor Tate.”
I blinked and found myself standing in front of an airport representative. I shook my head and turned, taking in the sleek white counter and the display screen behind the lady.
“We do have a second booking with Mister Holt’s for a Saylor Holt, but I’m afraid you can’t travel under that name if it doesn’t match your passport.” She stared back at us like an animatronic robot, all crisp diction and blank expression.
“Switch it to Saylor Tate then,” I muttered.
“I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t do that this close to departure. Our airline regulations state that—”
“I DON’T GIVE A FLYING FUCK!” I shouted. “We’re flying back to claim my best friend’s body.MAKE IT WORK!”
Silence fell through the entire airport.
Saylor nuzzled into my side. “Mal, please let me handle this. Go sit down over there.”
But I didn’t move. I kept my glare fixed on the bitch standing in front of me.
Three more agents came from behind a concealed door and judging by the walkie-talkie squawk behind us, security or police were standing nearby.
“We’re sorry for your loss, Mr. Tate, but we can’t—”
“Book another ticket then! I don’t give a fuck. But the two of us have to be on the next flight out to the US.”
Her head went down and after some tippy-tap on her keyboard, we magically had two first-class tickets to LAX.
We clunked our bags on the scale, and she didn’t even murmur when Saylor’s toy bag was over the limit.
Like I gave a fuck. I could afford the fee and then some.
Cops followed us from the check-in desk to security and hovered like I was some kind of security threat. I wanted toprovoke them, pop off on how fucking ridiculous they were being, but I also needed to get on the damn plane.
Saylor passed our passports and tickets to the border agent when prompted, while I stared at the crowd around us with hazy eyes.
Gio was dead.
Gio ODed.
I blinked, and we were sitting in the first-class lounge. Saylor’s knee bounced as she sat in the chair next to me.
I know I should probably say something to her. Comfort her or something, but I couldn’t make the words appear.
Gio ODed.
Gio was dead.
I blinked again, and we were walking down the jet bridge.
I don’t even remember hearing the boarding call or leaving the lounge.
As we settled into our seats, a flight attendant came over and buzzed about drinks or food or something. Saylor answered in her soft voice. I just stared back with blank eyes.
I grabbed a beanie out of my bag, stashed the bag in a compartment, and then sat back down. Pulling the beanie over my head and face, I blocked everything out.
