Mister Weston

I pushed my way through the guests and headed toward the exit. When I was halfway there, I felt someone tapping my shoulder from behind.

Turning around, I found myself face to face with my ex-wife—the person I hated only slightly less than my father and brother.

“Hey, Jake,” she said, stepping closer to me. “Long time, no see...Why are you looking at me like that? Don’t you remember me?”

“I’ve been trying hard to forget.” I glanced at her badge. “Did you somehow pick up the wrong nametag or are you still fucking with people’s minds with your games?”

“No.” She forced a smile and spoke low. “I’m Samantha now, Jake. Samantha.”

“Bullshit.” Her real name was Riley, Riley Cartwright, and she looked as if she was frozen in time from when we’d last met. She was still wearing her blond hair cut short in a way that complemented her brown eyes, she was the epitome of what ‘untrustworthy’ in the flesh looked like. And no matter how many times I tried to rationalize what she’d done, or attempt to placate the past with one of our softer, high school memories, my hatred of her would probably never be erased.

“How have you been after all these years?” she asked.

“Are you referring to the years before you told everyone in Missouri I was abusing you or after? Or maybe you’re referring to the years I caught you sucking—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.” She clenched her jaw. “Don’t you dare...And you did abuse me, Jake. I was mentally abused by your lack of care, your constant traveling, and your failure to give me what I wanted.”

“You got upset with me because I filed for divorce, and then you told the police I’d previously beat you in the face with a tire jack. That’s physical abuse, and it was a goddamn lie.”

“Right well...” She smiled, fake as usual. “I think enough time has passed for you to be nice to me and get over us drifting apart.”

“You almost cost me my fucking career, Riley,” I said. “That’s not drifting apart.”

“Jake—”

“You even got my brother to believe your lies...I know how you got my father to believe you, but how did you get Evan to? Did he get the same present, courtesy of your throat?”

“Jake, I swear to God—”

“Jake?” My father suddenly stepped between us. “Jake, is that really you?”

“You know exactly who the fuck it is.”

His eyes widened and he forced a smile for an intrusive camera man who snapped a quick picture. As soon as the photographer walked away, he looked at me and cleared his throat. “You look good, son.”

“I thought you only had one son. That guy ‘Evan’ in the photos up there.”

“Yes, well...” A look of sadness crossed his face, but he changed the subject. “I couldn’t believe it when Human Resources told me you actually signed the transfer papers. I’m quite honored and surprised that you’ve agreed to work for my airline.”

“You shouldn’t be. You keep buying and investing in every single airline I switch to. I didn’t have much of a choice.”

“There’s always a choice, Jake.”

“I’m sure your first wife would disagree.”

He shifted uneasily, and his smile slightly slipped as the flashes of cameras continue to sound around the room. I tried to look him right in the eye, to finally see him as a human being, but all I could see was a heartless monster who was willing to sacrifice anything for his own dreams, no matter the cost.

“What happened to the commemoration of Flight 1872?” I asked. “The papers said you were finally going to tell the truth.”

“They said I would address it. They didn’t say anything about the truth.”

“So, you’re still paying for them to print your lies?”

“No, I did address it.” He pointed across the hangar. “It’s on the new plane if you get a chance to take a look. Nonetheless, I knew having it mentioned it in the papers would make you come here. I really need to talk to you. ASAP, Jake. ASAP.”

I turned to walk away, but he grabbed my elbow.

“You’ve been going out of your way to avoid us all for years,” he said. “And I bought Signature to try to put an end to that. I even agreed to your over the top salary request. I more than agreed, actually. I doubled it so you could see that I’m serious about starting over. Is that not trying? Do you know how much money that is?”

“What’s a million to a billionaire?”

“Would you like more, then?”

“I don’t want shit from you. I’ll be quitting soon.”

“That’s not true.” He looked into my eyes. “Flying means too much to you, and you signed the contract. Even if you were to manage to get out of it, I’ll just buy or invest in the next airline you move to because I love you, Jake. I’ve missed you since you left us all those years ago.”