As Mr. Handsome Without Manners But Really Nice Abs leans back against the wall, he inspects me inspecting him. “You don’t know who I am, do you?”

  “Why?” My eyes dart up to his. “Have you forgotten? Is that what’s happening here? Do you suffer from amnesia, which also made you forget how to be a decent human being?”

  He looks somewhat befuddled, probably trying to figure out why I suddenly act like this when I might have been sending slightly different signals so far. “Right,” he finally grumbles, cocking his head, “I should have introduced myself, so you could have screamed my name while I was inside you. I apologize.”

  A single laugh escapes me before I can suppress it. Cocky asshole. “I saw you fire your employee,” I say. My anger is slowly subsiding, and so is my temporary insanity (despite giving him one last (slightly too thorough) glance from top to bottom). “You should know that stuff like that has a way of coming back around. Karma and all…”

  Before he can reply, I step out and slam the door shut, leaving him to dispose of the condom and cleaning himself up. Quickly, I put the towels back on the counter, so as to not cause more work for some poor cleaner. Then, on my way out, I grab his pants and shove them into my bag, so as to set some things right with the universe on behalf of his former assistant.

  I guess Karma came quickly this time. (As did I, but I try not to think about that right now.)

  Swiftly, I walk away and decide it’s probably for the best not to stick around. So I flag down the first employee I see, show her my ticket and ask her to point me in the right direction. Instead, she leads the way and guides me to their shuttle service, where I get to choose between a Porsche and a Rolls Royce that can take me to the plane.

  When we pull up next to the jet, I’m still not entirely sure if the last thirty minutes actually happened, or if I am in some sort of delirious daydream. A flight attendant is already waiting for me out in the cold, begging me inside. The driver takes care of my luggage as I climb up the few stairs into the plane, where another attendant welcomes me with a glass of champagne. In the back of the plane, Olivia’s parents and her colleague, Verna, are already waiting with their legs perched up in their seats. With bright smiles on their faces, they raise their drinks when they see me enter.

  “There she is!” Mr. Ray, Olivia’s father, welcomes me and finishes his glass before trying to climb out of his seat. I rush towards him and keep him down while almost tripping over his breathing machine.

  “Please, Mr. Ray, stay. You shouldn’t exert yourself too much. I’d hate to kill the father of the bride just before the big day.”

  “Kill me?” He laughs. “A lot more terrifying animals than you have tried. All unsuccessful. Much like that gigantic spider that viciously attacked me this morning.” He opens his arms to give me a hug.

  “It was barely bigger than a ladybug,” Mrs. Ray adds, rolling her eyes. “He screamed like a six-year-old girl.”

  “Like the most manliest of six-year-old girls, if I may say so. But enough about me. How are you, Sienna-Darling?”

  I bend down to give Mrs. Ray a hug as well. “Oh, I’m fine,” I answer, not entirely sure if that is actually true. “Fine…”

  If fine means having the face of the man that I just slept with engraved before my eyes.

  If fine means not being able to think about anything else.

  If fine means wanting to get off this plane to repeat what we just did five minutes ago.

  If fine means losing your mind, apparently.

  “Totally fine.”

  Totally.

  “Everyone who repeats that they are fine three times in a row is indeed absolutely and 100 percent fine!” Verna laughs and embraces me in her arms as well.

  “That is how that works, isn’t it?” I try to divert the attention from myself. “But how are you guys? I see the lung transplant was a thorough success.”

  Mr. Ray nods enthusiastically. “Indeed. I feel very good. This thing,” he motions at an oxygen tank, “is just a precaution now. Plus, this trip is shaping up to be my favorite trip of all times! Well… top three. One time I saw a loose monkey on the trip to the supermarket, so that’s really hard to beat.”

  Behind us, a man clears his throat to get our attention. “Welcome, everyone. I’m your pilot for this flight, and very pleased to have us with you today.”

  “To have you with us,” the attendant on his right whispers.

  “Oh, right, yes.” Our pilot chuckles. “And I didn’t even have any of that champagne yet… not that I am going to have any! I assure you, you are in very good and capable hands. Despite this being my first day.” He runs his index finger along the inside of his collar and I am expecting a drop of sweat to slide down his temple any second. “Anyway, since everybody seems to be here, we will depart shortly. Please remain seated and buckled in and enjoy your flight.”

  Verna sits back down, and I take a seat opposite of her at the window. Outside, tiny snowflakes have started falling, covering the airport in a thin layer of white and I can’t help but wonder if the mysterious Mr. Handsome Without Pants is still busy looking for them. I push my handbag into the compartment next to my seat and see a little screen poking out from inside. Upon further investigation, it seems like I not only stole Mr. Handsome’s pants but also his phone. The plane begins to move while I inspect the rectangle in my hand, then quickly bury it deep in my bag, hopefully along with all the other thoughts that are running wild in my mind right now. I stare out of the window and observe what will probably be the last snowflakes this winter. Until, a minute later, that face pops up again. His lips, that crooked grin, those eyes, his broad shoulders. He sure was the stereotypical kind of attractive, but, more importantly, he was also very unlikeable and that is the important thing to remember here.

  ‘I should have introduced myself, so you could have screamed my name while I was inside you.’

  Who says things like that?

  And why would it make me laugh?

  And why would I still be thinking about it now?

  It’s like my head stopped working and still hasn’t quite recovered yet.

  ‘You don’t know who I am, do you?’

  Should I know him? Have we met before? Is he some kind of celebrity who is so far up his own ass he assumes everyone must know him?

  “So, Sienna, my sunshine,” Mr. Ray pulls me from my thoughts before I can get even more riled up, “what’s going on with you?”

  I think about how to reply for a moment. I don’t want to explain that I just lost my job and, despite being quite close with my best friends’ parents, I definitely don’t want to tell them about the whole bathroom… debacle? Extravaganza? Fiasco?

  “I’m just a little afraid of flying,” I lie. “This is actually my first time. I’ve never been away from home and I am a little worried about Chairman Meow. He’s staying with Paige, Robyn, Guy, and Earnest, and I can’t say for certain that all five of them will come out of this alive.”

  At least that last part is true. Our cat, the Chairman, has only ever stayed with Olivia or me and it’s hard to say how he’ll take to not seeing either of us for a couple of days.

  Mr. Ray nods tentatively, clearly not satisfied with my answer, but too polite to force me to talk. He’s a wonderful dad. “Okay, darling. You know, if you ever need to speak to anyone, we’re here for you.” He takes his wife’s hand into his own, patting it tenderly. “I can’t promise we will have helpful advice but I can guarantee an unqualified comment or two and, if necessary, my better 3/4 here can do to the guy, who is giving you those deep wrinkles on your forehead, what she did to that humongous spider this morning.”

  “Gently put him onto a flower outside?” Mrs. Ray asks with a chuckle.

  “That’s right. I’ll make sure it’s a prickly one too! Don’t you worry, Sienna.” He gives me a wink and sits up properly as the plane makes a last turn onto the runway. Olivia is lucky to have parents like them and I am lucky that, as their daughter’s best friend, they have adopted me into the family like their own.

  “Hey, look at that,” Verna suddenly interrupts and points outside. “Looks like there is something happening inside the airport.”

  I turn my head and, through the snow, try to make out what she is talking about.

  3

  RYKER

  For a second, I consider going back to university to earn a degree in theoretical physics so that I can build myself a time machine to avoid meeting that woman in the first place. But physics is not my strong suit. Nor is breaking the laws of physics, I suppose. Man-made laws on the other hand…

  “So you maintain you haven’t had any alcohol or abused any other substances?” The police officer’s inquiry sounds more like an accusation than a question as he shackles my hands to the table in the small interrogation room.

  I can barely focus on what he wants from me, since my brain seems to have evaded arrest by still being stuck in the bathroom across the airport, still stuck with her.

  That damned woman.

  I am unsure whether admiration or disdain for her prevails until I feel the sting from the taser in my butt again. I shift to the other cheek and try to focus on what’s important. It takes all my effort not to forget my manners. “Look, can I just have my phone call?” I ask as politely as I can muster, hoping the cop has a better day than me.

  “If you answer my question.”

  A grumble involuntarily emanates from my throat as a little blood runs down my temple. For good measure, he had hit me over the head after I was already incapacitated by the taser.

  Fuck this.

  There are many reasons I don’t usually go around sleeping with random woman in airport restrooms. This is probably one I need to add from now on.

  I am technically not entitled to a call until I have been processed, so my options are to either remain uncooperative and drag this whole thing out, or to comply and have a chance to get to my best friend’s wedding in time. “No, I have not consumed any legal or illegal substances,” I explain despite my better judgment. “I’ll happily blow into the breathalyzer if you need me to.”

  “So, you just decided it was a good idea to expose yourself in the middle of a crowded airport?”

  Speaking of good ideas: Talking to the cops is not one of them.

  “I did not decide that was a good idea⁠—”

  “Aha! So the drugs made you do it.”

  “There were no drugs involved at any stage of,” I attempt to gesture with my hands but strain against the cuffs immediately, “this.”

  “Yeah,” he huffs, obviously not believing me. “So what is this then?”

  I look down at myself. “Someone stole my pants.”

  “Someone stole your pants.”

  “Someone stole my pants in the bathroom.”

  And I am going to make her fucking pay for it.

  Disdain. I don’t know how any sort of admiration could have even crossed my mind. Attraction, sure. There’s nothing one can do about feeling attraction for someone like her, but I am way past that. The admiration left along with my pants. All that’s left now is disdain. And cold thighs.

  “Huh.” The cop sits down in the chair opposite of mine, his belly pressing into the edge of the table. “I’ve heard of weirdos who take off their pants all the way when going to the bathroom, but I’ve never met one myself. Guess there’s a first time for everything.”

  “Well, that’s not really what happened,” I say before I can stop myself.

  “No? Then what did happen?”

  Yeah, I should have gone with weirdo who strips before peeing.

  “Well, I was in the bathroom…”

  And a raccoon came and took them.

  And I accidentally flushed them down the toilet.

  And I was reckless enough to have sex with a stalking reporter who seduced me with her perfectly imperfect curls, her adorable little nose, that gaze of hers that could kill… and who then had the gall to steal my fucking pants.

  “…doing drugs. You were in the bathroom doing drugs.”

  I sigh and let my head drop onto the table. This is threatening to become a long night. And it will be a really long week once she writes her story about all of this. I can already see the headline:

  CEO Of Grayson Holdings Caught With His Pants Down

  Fuck. Bruce will not like this. The board even less so.

  “I wasn’t doing drugs. I also wasn’t exposing myself in public. I was wearing a shirt, my suit jacket, this tie, even shoes, and, of course, underwear. That’s more than I’d be wearing at the beach. It can’t possibly qualify as indecent exposure in public. I didn’t break any laws.”

  “Weeeell, those boxers are pretty tight, buddy.” The cop places his arms on his belly, getting a little too comfortable for my taste. “Besides, that’s for me to judge.”

  “No. It isn’t,” I object, because apparently, I am too dumb to just shut the fuck up. “There are laws, and rules, and ordinances that define things like this, and, if anything, it is for a judge to… you know… judge.”

  “Weeeell, there’s different rules here. We’re at the airport on extra-judicial grounds, so…”

  “Extra-judicial gr—” My pulse is beating furiously against the tight cuffs as I try to control my temper. “I guess you are right.” Because apparently you can do whatever you want here. And if that isn’t extra-judicial, then I don’t know what is. “How about this: how about you reach into this pocket here,” I lean forward, allowing him access to the inner lining of my jacket, “and you look for a business card in there that says Bruce Grayson. Then you look up who that is and you give him a call. Of course, I probably don’t need to mention this, but other than my ID and that business card, my wallet is absolutely empty, as far as I’m concerned.”

  I am bribing a police officer now. Might as well hire a hitman to find that reporter after what she is putting me through here. But anything to not miss the wedding.

  Carefully, Officer Jabali, as it states on his name tag, reaches into my pocket, pulls out my wallet and opens it up. His eyes grow bigger and bigger when they discover the bills inside. “Well, well, well,” he says and quickly stuffs the stack of money into his pants while glancing over at the mirror in the wall, “I guess we can add attempted bribery of an officer to your charges.”

  “I guess we could,” I agree with a fake smile. “Or we could make that phone call and see if my brother has pockets even deeper than this.”

  The cop stares at me for longer than is comfortable, I assume mentally running —or rather leisurely strolling— through his options, before getting up and almost tripping over himself in the process. “Wait here,” he says and turns towards the door.

  Yeah, where would I fucking go?

  I rattle against the cuffs, clenching my fists. This is unbelievable. I will have my assistant get the camera footage from the airport, figure out how that reporter got into the VIP lounge, who she is and for whom she works. Or rather, for whom she used to work, because I am going to sue her harder than a middle-aged woman threatens to sue the diner across church for messing up her Sunday reservation.

  I should probably give my mom a call, I think when Officer Jabali returns a little later.

  “Come on,” he mumbles and releases me from the table.

  “Finally. Is he coming to get me or can I just go on my own? Also, I will need some pants.”

  “Yup.” The officer nods and drops a pair of orange trousers on the table. “Put those on.”

  “Really?”

  “Don’t make me play dress-up, pretty boy,” he snarls and reaches for his baton.

  For a brief moment, I consider knocking Jabali out. It wouldn’t be too hard. He’d probably drop like a stone, or rather a heavy-set boulder. But I wouldn’t make it to my plane and then I’d definitely miss the wedding. So instead, I do as I am told. It’s fine. I will be out of here in a few minutes and on my way, just as planned.

  “Come on,” Jabali mumbles, chewing on some jerky that he produced from seemingly thin air. “It’s your lucky day. My colleague here,” he tries to push me towards another cop who has the mandatory donut in his hand, “is headed towards the station anyway, so he will take you along.”

  “That’s awfully nice of you to offer, officer.” I can’t help but grind my teeth a little. “But I am not going to the station. I have a plane to catch.”

  “Don’t listen to him,” Officer Jabali explains to his colleague. “I think he’s drunk or high or both. He’s been rumbling on incoherently the entire time. Said something about losing a bunch of money too. Run him through the system, take some blood and do whatever else we do with someone like him, you know the drill.”

  “Yes, sir,” the other officer responds, grabs me by the arm and leads me away.

  I look back at Jabali’s grinning face and know there’s no way out at this point, nothing to be done. Nothing other than imagining revenge, envisioning what I would do to the person who got me into these cuffs in the first place. It’s a little disconcerting that those things also include a whole lot of kissing, touching and caressing.

  I might actually be losing my mind here.

  The rest of the evening is spent looking at a lot fewer bars than I had always imagined. Instead, the single holding cell has a heavy steel door with a little window at the top. The bed, if you can call it that, is all metal and cold, much like the toilet. It’s degrading, though that’s not even what I’m mad about. By now, my plane has long left with Olivia’s friends and family and I will definitely miss the practice dinner, as well as the little bachelor party I had planned for Phoenix. I hate that I am letting my friend down, especially on a day like this. All because of her.