What did that mean? I was expected to have lunch by myself? I texted back, will do, no problem! I had no earthly idea what I was agreeing to.
The morning was hectic, with a million calls and requests from people clamoring for even five minutes of Nick Hunter’s time. He was already booked through 2015 and no one who I spoke to was on what Nick called the bump list. That was the name for a group of thirty people in the world who could bump anyone else off the schedule to meet with him. Presidents, former presidents, heads of state, Warren Buffett and no one else; not movie stars or any other celebrity a normal person would give their eye teeth to meet.
The bump list made me gasp when I read it. There was only one person I didn’t recognize right away, but I was too embarrassed to ask who it was. Even running the name through a search engine revealed nothing. It was just one more piece to add to the puzzle that was Nick Hunter.
At the stroke of noon a man in a black uniform walked through the double doors of the outer office.
“Miss Carter? I’m Franklin, your driver,” he said, his hat in hand. I nodded and grabbed my purse, my heart thumping excitedly.
“Hi! Nice to meet you!” I stuck my hand out. He looked at me surprised, but shook it.
“Right this way, please,” we went down the elevator together to a Bentley waiting at the curb, guarded by the building’s doorman. Franklin opened the door for me and I slid in the back.
“Wow, this is some smooth ride,” I said as we pulled out into traffic. Franklin laughed. “Yes, it certainly is, Miss.”
“So, are you taking me to Daniel?” I asked.
“No, Miss. I have orders to go to JFK.”
My mouth dropped open as I leaned forward. “JFK International Airport? What for?”
“Mr. Hunter has a meeting in Bermuda, Miss Carter.”
I sat back and tried to think. Maybe Nick needed to give me a few assignments before he took off. But why didn’t he just call them in or email me?
“Uh, Bermuda. Okay, of course. Who doesn’t have a last minute meeting in Bermuda?” I said. Franklin looked at me in the rearview mirror and grinned.
***
We pulled up to a part of the airport I had never been to before. Four jet planes stood on the tarmac. Franklin stopped the car and opened the door for me.
“You can go right up,” he said, pointing to one of the planes that had an open door and a stepladder in front of it. It reminded me of watching the President and First Lady on TV coming or going off Air Force One.
“Why isn’t there any security around here?” I asked.
Franklin chuckled. “Miss, there’s plenty. Believe me, if we weren’t cleared to be here, you and I wouldn’t be alive right now.” I gazed around for security cameras or snipers on the roof, suddenly nervous.
“Okay, good to know,” I said as Franklin tipped his hat and got back in the car. I turned and walked to Nick Hunter’s private jet plane. Climbing up the stairs, I was greeted by the pilot.
“Hi,” I waved, shielding my eyes from the sun.
“Hello, Miss Carter. Welcome. I’m Captain Joe,” he helped me up the last step and led me inside the cabin. I had never seen a more luxurious space in my life. There was an actual sunken living room in the front with long white leather sectional sofas and reclining seats. A replica of Nick Hunter’s mahogany desk from his office was in the back along with a galley kitchen that could probably rival most five star restaurants. To the right was a glass topped dining room table set for two.
“Wow,” was all I could say, feeling like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz. I certainly wasn’t in Brooklyn any more. The pilot smiled at me indulgently.
“If you wish to freshen up before lunch, there are two bathrooms. One is the guest bathroom and one is off the master bedroom. Mr. Hun
ter said you have full run of the place, so choose either one. He should be arriving any moment.”
“Master bedroom? This place has more than one bedroom?” I felt like a hick for asking, but come on. The guest bathroom was probably bigger than my apartment.
“Yes,” Captain Joe nodded. “Two bedrooms.”
“Man, that’s incredible,” I murmured. He smiled and said, “Come, let me show you the rest.”
I followed Captain Joe to what I thought was the back of the plane, but it seemed to go on forever. He pushed open a door to reveal a bedroom with a canopy bed and art on the wall.
“Is that…is that a Picasso?” I gulped. He nodded. “Yep.”