Isaiah smacked himself in the forehead. Wine sloshed over the rim of his glass—well, plastic. “Yes. How could I forget?” He chuckled, tongue dulled by the alcohol. “Her husband’s done a really good job keeping them away from all that.”
Cora was Opal’s older sister. Of course. Itwasall about me, after all.
Most things were.
CHAPTER
Ten
With Cora out of New York and also actively avoiding us, our usual method of interrogation—taking a car somewhere nearby and asking questions—was not going to work. So we had to improvise. Namely, by taking a plane somewherefar awayand asking questions.
“Nicholas is going to kill me,” I said almost a week after interrogating Isaiah at the art gallery, lounging back in my seat and waving away the flight attendant with her crystal glass of sparkling water. “Hopefully we take off before he storms the airport.”
The family pilot was like an uncle to me, except that I knew most of my uncles’ last names. The family pilot had always just been Captain Ted. Captain Ted wasn’t supposed to take the plane out without the authorization of the head of the company, who was technically my father (though in reality the temporary winner of the constantly shifting battle between my mom and Nicholas), but who could say no to the family’s darling daughter when she came to you with a pout on her lips and big, sad puppy-dog eyes?
Captain Ted, that’s who. The whole puppy-dog-eyes-and-pouting thing had worked a lot better when I was younger. It had taken a forged note from Nicholas and a whole lot of fervent praying that Nicholas wouldn’t show up before takeoff.
“I still can’t believe that this is just… how you travel.” I waslounging, but Gabe was not; he was perched on the edge of the cushy leather seat, like he was afraid it might swallow him up if he leaned back.
“I mean, notalways,” I said. “I’ve flown commercial before.”
“In first class.”
“Obviously,” I said. “I heard that back in coach they don’t even have beds.”
“The horror,” Gabe said. I was glad he understood.
“Pom, we’re ready to go.” Captain Ted appeared out of nowhere, his blue pilot’s hat sitting crookedly atop his thick blond hair. “ETA in four hours and fifteen minutes.”
“Sounds good,” I told him. The jet engines roared up outside the window. I sat back and sipped my iced tea as we took off. Bye, Nicholas. Hopefully he wouldn’t need the jet for a business meeting while I was gone. I could only imagine the lecture I’d get if the company lost out on some deal because I had the jet. Though, really, wasn’t what I was doing way more important? My work had life-or-death stakes. His work did not.
Once we were cruising thousands of feet in the air, I let out an exhale of my own. Nicholas couldn’t stop me now. I turned back to Gabe. “It’s been so long since I’ve been to a private island. I love them. You’ll see.”
Oh yeah. Did I not mention that? We were en route to a private island. Kevin Miller’s private island, to be exact. It was a big part of his shtick:I grew up poor and now I have a private island!(I wasn’t paraphrasing—that was the title of one of his books, exclamation point and all.) It was his fiftieth birthday and he was throwing a huge bash. The Jean-Pierres might be steering clear of scandal-plagued New York for a while, but we’d heard through the grapevine that they’d be down in the Caribbean for the party.
“A private island,” Gabe repeated. “I never thought I’d be going to a private island.” He’d been a little quiet so far on the ride. I thought he’d want to go over our plans for talking to Cora, or maybe do some more research than our googling last night(which hadn’t turned up much; someone had scrubbed as much of the Internet as they could of any connection between Cora Jean-Pierre and the Sterlings—which was ironic, considering that, even though she was much older, she was the only sister to be a full-blooded Sterling), but so far he’d spent most of the flight looking out the window.
Poor guy. He must have been nervous for his first time. “A private island is just like a regular island, but better,” I assured him. “More privacy. No dealing with the public on the beach. Usually not as well equipped as a resort is—if you’re looking for specialty massages or face masks with any chemicals that need to be overseen by a doctor you’re out of luck, so there are trade-offs.” I wondered how the food would be. Last time I was there the desserts had been pretty basic, simple treats like chocolate mousse and cupcakes. Private chefs so often had a blind spot around desserts. Kevin would probably love if I popped down to the kitchen to consult on their pastries.
Gabe’s face didn’t move. “Private stretches of beach sound nice. Kevin must have a stretch somewhere on the west that’s beautiful during sunset, right?”
“Oh yeah,” I said, relieved he seemed to be coming around. “I’ve been there before, the last time a few years ago, when he wanted to talk to my family about branding one of his properties with the Afton name. He positioned his residence on the west side of the island so that whole stretch of beach is easily walkable and glorious in the evening.” He nodded, his expression still grimly resolute. “We’ll definitely get away one evening for a sunset walk.”
He nodded. “Good.”
I stared at him for an extra second, wondering why he was being so weird, but my phone buzzed. I grabbed for it immediately. It could be Bibi, who I’d finally reached out to in order to see what was going on with the building Conrad had promised me, though it probably wouldn’t be Vienna, who was still avoiding—
ItwasVienna?Pom, I’m sorry I’ve been MIA the last few days.I’ve been dealing with a lot but I know you have been too. Can I come over? We need to talk.
I bit my lower lip. Gabe peered over my shoulder as I said, “I guess it’s not too late to turn the plane around.”
“You think so?” he said, and why was his voice so strangled? “We’re already in the air. Once Nicholas finds out you took the plane, no chance you’re getting it again for a while.”
I sighed, settling back into my seat. “I guess you’re right.” I typed back,Babe we’re in the airWill be back next week. I’d wanted to stay longer, but Gabe had work. The compromises I made for this relationship.Can I call you?
I can’t discuss this over the phone, she wrote back. It was just a relief at this point to have words pop up after the typing bubbles.Text me as soon as your wheels hit NYC earth.
Will do.
