Low Pressure

“He didn’t tell you it was us?”

“No. Not even when he gave me your check.”

“The name Bellamy Price didn’t mean anything to you?”

“I only looked to see if the amount was right.”

“I thought you might have seen me on TV.”

“You’ve been on TV?”

She gave a small nod.

“Talking about that?” He hitched his chin toward the book on the table.

Again, she answered with a nod.

“Great. That’s just great.” He raised the cup of coffee to his mouth, but set it back on the table without drinking from it and pushed it aside so hard that coffee sloshed out.

“For several weeks, there was a lot of media coverage.” In a murmur, she added, “I don’t know how you missed it.”

“Just lucky, I guess.”

Nothing was said for a full minute. People drifting through the lobby for one reason or another moved on without coming into the snack area, as though sensing the hostility between them and affording them privacy to sort it out. Each time Bellamy glanced toward the women working the counter, she caught them watching her and Dent with ill-concealed curiosity.

It was he who finally broke the charged silence. “So why’d you book a charter with me? You could have got your daddy down here some other way. Private jet. You didn’t need me and my lowly little Cessna.”

“I wanted to see how you’d fared. I hadn’t heard anything about you since the airline… thing.”

“Ah! So you know about that?”

“It made news.”

“I know,” he said drily. “You gonna write a book about that, too?”

She gave him a look.

“I can supply you with lots of material, A.k.a. Let’s see.” He stroked his chin thoughtfully. “How about the time the young widow chartered me to fly her to Nantucket? Long way from here. By the time we got to the Massachusetts coast, it was a dark and stormy night. Nobody got murdered, but the lady tried her best to fuck me to death.”

Bellamy flinched at the word, but refused to let him rile her, which she knew was his intention. Keeping her features schooled, and with deliberate patience, she said, “I hired you because I wanted to learn if you’d read my book and, if you had, what your reaction to it was.”

“Well, now you know. Cost you two-point-five grand plus fuel costs to find out. Was it worth it?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I want my passengers to feel like they get their money’s worth. The widow sure as hell did.” He gave her a goading grin, which she ignored. Then his grin reversed itself and he swore under his breath. “If Gall thinks he’s getting his broker’s fee off this charter, he’s sadly mistaken.”

“Maybe he didn’t tell you because—”

“Because he knew I’d say no.”

“Because he thought it would be good for you to see us.”

“How could it possibly have been good for me?”

“It gave us all an opportunity to mend fences.”

“Mend fences.”