“Thank you, Jim.” Marcus led me toward a tiny ramp away from the bustling flight crew, fighting to keep a straight face all the while. Once we were relatively alone, he took me gently by the arm and pulled me closer. “You should’ve told me you were afraid to fly.”
“What else would you have done? Get me some Valium and knock me out?”
Eyes darting suspiciously around, I held my purse between us and opened it a crack so he could peek inside. About twenty vodka shooters, courtesy of my concerned roommate, clinked together as I brought the bag protectively back to my chest.
“Shit, Rebecca!” His eyes widened in bemused disbelief. “How many have you already had?”
“Just six,” I whispered. “And keep your voice down. I don’t want them confiscated.”
“Why would you—”
“You don’t understand. It was this or a concussion.” My voice grew sullen as I remembered. “Like last time...”
“A concussion? Rebecca, I don’t know what you’re—”
“I said to keep your voice down.”
Two hands shot out and t
ook me firmly by the shoulders. “Rebecca White.” He lowered his beautiful eyes down to mine. “I own the plane. Nothing’s going to get confiscated. You can bring whatever you want. That’s not what concerns me right now.”
“Marcus...that’s brilliant!”
“What concerns me is why you felt the need to drug yourself before takeoff. Is this like another irrational peacock phobia? Should I be worried?”
I cocked my head to the side and studied him seriously. The edges around his hair had begun to blur, but other than that, I felt like I was on top of my game.
I stepped toward him. “Tell me something...how did that day begin? Did you just wake up, peer out over your copy of The Gilded Faithful, and say, ‘You know what, this grass needs, a peacock!’”
He pursed his lips. “I’m getting you on the plane.”
“I’m getting you on the plane!”
“Mr. Taylor,” the pilot was back, “might I have a moment—”
“Not now, Jimmy.”
“Marcus, stop this nonsense at once! Indulge the man!”
Two pairs of eyes flew my way, and I thought it best I excuse myself to the cabin.
All I knew about private planes was what I’d learned from the movies, but I’d like to think that between my natural street smarts and the pint of vodka rolling around in my stomach, I played it pretty cool. When the stewardess came round and asked me if I’d like a glass of champagne, I politely declined, asking only where the extra life vests were kept so that I might fashion myself a raft. She disappeared soon after and I never saw her again. A few minutes after Marcus came on board, we strapped ourselves to the chairs and the flying deathmobile shot off into the heavens.
“Rebecca?” A deliberate pause. “Rebecca, are you still with me?”
I opened my eyes to see the striking face of an ethereal billionaire staring back at me.
“Did anybody ever tell you how beautiful you are?” I asked.
“You’re being so nice and giving me so many compliments. I’m enjoying this.”
“Maybe you should keep me all liquored up. I’m a much better time.”
He laughed.
“Hey, Marcus. What did you think of our kiss? Was it all part of the fake girlfriend act? To really fool those doubters? Or was it for real? And I can only ask you this now because I’m shit-faced.”
“It just happened. I didn’t plan it. You took my breath away, and it was spontaneous.”