Amanda was seated on the 747, staring out the window at the clouds below, her hands clutching a rolled piece of paper full of scribbled notes and times that she'd taken while on the phone before leaving the office earlier that day. She'd thrown a way-too-expensive flight onto her credit card and left town within hours of talking to Hamilton Sheldon, and now - now that she was past the point of no return - the nerves were starting to eat at her. She rolled and unrolled the paper, her hands shaking.
"Nothing to be nervous about, dearie," muttered the older woman sitting next to her. The woman reached over and patted Amanda's hands. "The pilot's very skilled, I'm sure we are just as safe as could be." She smiled, her teeth too straight to be anything but dentures, and her hair that soft purpley-blue-grey color that old women tend to have.
Amanda smiled nervously, "I'm not really scared of the flight," she replied.
"What's the matter then, dear?" asked the woman, concerned. She shifted her frail weight to face Amanda better. Her husband snored loudly from the aisle seat.
"It's more the destination, really," Amanda replied.
"Colorado? It's a lovely place," the woman answered.
Amanda nodded, "Yeah I know. I've been there before. It's just been a really long time... and..." Amanda hesitated. "There's this guy..."
"Ohhh," the woman's eyes lit up. "Do tell."
And so Amanda started from the beginning.
"CHEERIOS!" Nick batted the box into the shopping cart like he was a cat. The box hit the bottom of the cart with a crack and the corner bent in. He grinned. "A must."
Bree laughed and led the way further down the cereal aisle. She grabbed a box of Frosted Mini Wheats. Nick raised an eyebrow. "What? They're good for you," she defended herself. "And they're strawberry flavored."
"You are so your father right now." Nick pushed the cart on around the end of the aisle and up the next one.
"Shush." Bree looked around, "What do you want for food anyways?"
"I dunno what can you cook?" Nick asked, biting his thumb nail.
It was Bree's turn to raise an eyebrow.
"What?" Nick looked up cluelessly.
"You think I'm the only one that's gonna cook?" she laughed.
Nick laughed back, "Trust me, toots, you don't want me cookin'."
"So you don't change tires and you don't cook," Bree ticked the items off on her fingers, "What good are you?"
"I have humor, brute strength, and dashing good looks," Nick replied, his voice level.
Bree cracked up.
"What?"
"If you have to ask," Bree replied, "You will never know."
"What's that supposed'ta mean?" Nick demanded. But Bree just smirked and continued on down the aisle. "Hey... What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means you're helping me cook," she replied. She picked up a box of pasta and a jar of Ragu. "We'll start you off easy," she said, putting them in the cart.
"I know how to make pasta," Nick argued.
"So you aren't culinarily incompetent, you just like making the ladies cook for you?"
Nick paused. "Well Amanda always cooked for me," he admitted.
"And what have you done since?" Bree asked.
Nick hesitated, "Mostly take-out."
Bree rolled her eyes. "C'mon, we'll jack up the bids a bit on the spaghetti and even make meatballs."
Nick snickered, "Meatballs?"
"You're such a pervert."
"At least I'm not suggesting we get cupcakes."
Bree rolled her eyes and tugged the cart onward down the aisle.
"My suggestion is simple, if you want to sell something like bottled water, you need to be different than the other guys out there on the market," Baylee was pacing along the length of the conference room, "I mean every bottled water company and their cousins have gone the crisp water, fresh from the glades of happiness route, you know what I'm saying?" He reached for the presentation board he'd left by his seat and put it up on the end of the table, waving his arm at the mock up bottles and ads he'd created the day before. "You need to give bottled water a manly feel."
Suddenly, his phone vibrated on the mahogany table by his chair. The vibe sent it spinning in place. "Sorry," he muttered, feeling his cheeks flush as everyone's attention averted to the phone.
The girl who'd been sitting next to him picked it up to hand it to him. "Looks like it's mommy," she said, reading his caller ID for Leighanne. Baylee's cheeks darkened in pinkness. He cleared his throat.
"I'm sorry," he muttered again, then took a deep breath, silenced the phone and slid it into his pocket. "Okay. Manly water." He turned back to his board and finished the presentation, although the girl was now smiling smugly - and he was pretty sure she had a perfectly good reason to. She'd probably just secured the account for herself.
Thirty minutes later, with promises to call them both with their choice within the week, the executives left the room and Baylee quickly gathered his stuff and unearthed his phone. He groaned to see that Leighanne hadn't given up after calling once but had left three voicemails, two texts and had called no less than 15 times. He rolled his eyes and called her back. "I'm sorry," he started, the moment her phone picked up, "I was with some clients. What's the matter?"
"Your sister still isn't home," Leighanne complained.
Baylee leaned against the wall in the hallway outside the conference room. "Mom, I'm sure she's fine. She's with Nick."
"Exactly," Leighanne snapped.
The girl winked at Baylee as she left the conference room, muttering, "I hope mommy's okay," as she shashayed down the hall. Baylee glared at her back, wishing looks could throw darts into people's backsides. He turned away from her and kicked his presentation board in frustration.
"You act like Nick's an ogre and he's not," he grunted.
Leighanne's voice was edgy, "I told him to send her home and she isn't home. He won't answer my phone calls, he won't answer texts, she won't answer calls. I don't know where she is. I'm going out of my mind, Baylee!" Her voice broke on the last sentence and Baylee heard her choke back a sob. "I can't handle this."
Baylee sighed, "She's fine, mum, okay? She just needs a break."
"I need her home," Leighanne responded. "I need to know where she is and what is going on and I'm not okay with this sneaky, not-telling-me shit that they're pulling. I can't take this, not so close to Brian's birthday. I just can't handle it. I need her home."
Baylee rubbed his neck, "I don't know what to tell you mum," he said. He felt his patience wearing thin. He felt like just telling her off sometimes; or like reminding her that he wasn't Brian. Sometimes it felt like she forgot that he wasn't his father, that she wasn't his responsibility.
"I'm reporting him," Leighanne said in a tone of finality.
"What?"
"Nick, I'm reporting him. If he doesn't call me back by tomorrow night, I'm calling the police and I'm reporting him."
Baylee stared at the now bent presentation board on the floor, aghast. "Mom, do you have any clue how pissed dad would be if he knew you were threatening to report Nick for taking Bree on a road trip? I mean seriously..." Baylee felt his tongue moving before he could stop the words from coming out, "Stop being such a bitch."
Silence filled the phone line.
"I'm sorry," Baylee stammered, "I'm having a really rotter day and I just --"
"It's fine." Leighanne said, her voice quavering. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for wanting my daughter home or at least to know that she's okay."
Baylee sighed, "Mum, you know I agree that it sucks they haven't called, but it's not like he's kidnapping her or something."
"You might not see it that way," she replied.
"Nick's got enough of a crappy life going on right now without you bringing charges on him," Baylee argued, "Don't do that."
Leighanne's voice was thick, "I know I treat your sister badly, I know I'm not the best mother, but Baylee... am I bad enough that she'd never come home?"
Baylee hesitated. "Just don't report Nick, okay? It's not his fault."
"I didn't mean to be a bad mother," Leighanne's voice shattered as she started to cry, "Especially not to Bree... She's the last thing he gave me."
"I know mum."
"The last thing."
"I know."
After consoling Leighanne for some time, Baylee finally hung up, collected his somewhat mangled presentation board, and made his way out onto the streets of Orlando. He paused on the street corner, where he waited for the bus that he'd ride home, and tapped out a text to Bree.
You really, really need to call me. ASAP.
