CHAPTER 4
Cal
I hoof it back through the hangar and head to my Jeep. Yeah, of course, I look for the bombshell in a business suit when I get to the terminal, but she’s not there. I figure she’s already on her way to wherever she was headed. Too bad.
I exit the double doors with my eyes on the gravel lot where I parked.
And whad’ya know? There she is.
Her back is to me, her tall, slim frame surrounded by three large pieces of designer luggage—Louis Vuitton or Burberry or Prada or Versace or whatever the fuck it is people choose to waste their money on these days.
“What?” Her voice is high and shrill, and she stomps her foot onto the front sidewalk.
“What do you mean they can’t get a car here?
But Millicent, we… but I… I’m standing here looking around and all I see are mountains and desert and forest!
Do you suggest I walk there? I need a car and a driver! I need a ride!”
I review the checklist in my head.
Do I have a car?
I do.
Can I drive it?
I can.
Which means I’m exactly what this woman wants and needs.
It’s a real good day to be Cal MacLaine.
“May I be of service, ma’am?”