I put my arms around him. I’m about to cry.
“Go on, girl,” Marc says softly. His eyes are puffy and watery too. “Go on, Emma. You got this! And call me when you get there, okay?”
He practically removes my arms from his neck and hands me my suitcase. Then he opens the door and gives me a gentle push. I feel like a robot as I walk out the door.
“Good morning, Miss. Please, let me take your suitcase.”
The driver grabs the suitcase and carries it out to the car.
“Please,” he says and opens the door for me so I can sit in the back seat. Before I know it, we’re on our way. I look for Marc as we leave the street, but I don’t see him anywhere.
How could I be so dumb? I was so prepared for the trip, and then literally at the last minute, I let the whole thing slide. I catch a glimpse of myself in the driver’s rear mirror. What a mess I am. Even for me. Without making too much of a fuss, I find a scrunchie in my pocket and pull my hair back in a ponytail. I try to make it look nice, but it’s hard to see myself in his mirror without being too obvious. I have to protect the little dignity I have left.
Then I remember. I have a mirror in my purse. I pull it out. Turns out I am pale as a ghost. I apply a little bit of foundation on my cheeks. Thank God I have a few essentials in my purse. The makeup helps a little bit. My eyes still look tired, but there's no way I can fix that in the back of a car. I'll have to skip the mascara. I can't see enough to truly know what I'm doing. Marc wouldn’t approve, but this will have to make do. At least I don't have panda eyes.
The driver sends me a skeptical look in the mirror. There's not a doubt in my mind that he would never have found himself in a situation like this. He would've been ready.
"You should know that Mr. Durst will be awaiting you when we arrive at the airport,” he says in the most serious voice I have ever heard. "Mr. Durst is not a man you'll want to keep waiting. I don't think anyone ever has," he says, his eyes now back on the road.
I'm so ashamed. Maybe I am not mature enough to take this responsibility. Then again, I made a mistake. One freaking mistake. And I'm never doing it again.
The car takes another turn to the right, and we slow down.
"We are there in a minute, Ms. Brown," the driver says and soon after parks the car. It’s still dark when we get there, but as I get out of the car, I can see that we’re in a very small airport and that I'm standing next to a beautiful, large private jet. "Durst Inc.," it says in large, corporate writing on the side of the plane. I didn't even know they made private planes that big. The stairs leading up to the plane are lit up.
I turn to the driver. I have no idea what to do from here.
I guess he notices how I hesitate because I don't even have to ask before he says: "Please go ahead and join Mr. Durst on the plane. I'll make sure to bring your suitcase on board."
I blow some hair away from my face, take a deep breath, and start walking up the stairs.
"Oh, and by the way, Ms. Brown, you should know that one other person will be joining you on the plane. Mr. Durst’s secretary, Ms. Hanson, always follows him on his travels. Once you're in the air, she’ll fill you in on all the details of your flight. But now you better speed it up a little. Mr. Durst is waiting for you."
The secretary. I remember her. I want to like her, but I have a feeling she doesn't like me. Maybe I am being overly sensitive. Maybe she does like me. I mean, why wouldn’t she? If not, maybe she'll warm up to me once we're on our way.
The inside of the plane is beautiful. Soft rugs on the floor, beautiful decor, and at least two quite spacious rooms, from what I can see. I can hear Mr. Durst and Ms. Hanson's voices from the last room, and I start walking towards them.
"Ms. Brown, good morning. I was beginning to think you might not come."
Mr. Durst sends me a stern look. Without waiting for my reply, he continues.
"Please sit down and buckle up. We were waiting only for you. Takeoff in a few minutes. " He doesn't say anymore and doesn't invite me to say anything, either.
As I sit down in my seat across from Mr. Durst, I can't help but notice how he seems to take in every inch of me. Once I'm sitting down, I look up to make eye contact. He immediately looks down and starts to read some papers.
I look over at Ms. Hanson next to Mr. Durst. There's no help from her. She sends me one reproachful look and then stares sternly at some imaginary spot behind me. What a start. I lean back and look out the window. Try to make the best of the situation and just be present as the plane takes off. The most important thing for me now is not to fall asleep. I can imagine nothing worse than having Mr. Blake Durst sit across from me as I drool and snore in my sleep. Besides, I am expecting Ms. Hanson to give me the last details about the trip, so I really need to stay awake.
I'm pushed back into my seat. I'm not too nervous, but I have to admit there's a feeling of relief when we're finally up in the air. The lights are dimmed in the cabin, and the vibration from the engine calms my body. ‘Emma, no falling asleep. You have to stay awake’. Without saying a word out loud, I try to remind myself to stay focused. Of course, I'm not going to fall asleep. I just need to rest my eyes for a second.
7
BLAKE
"This is your captain speaking. We are now approaching our final destination and will prepare for landing in just a few minutes. Please tighten your seatbelts and turn your seats in an upright position. Within the next 20 minutes, you’ll be walking into the Tanzanian sun.”
John Bennett has been one of our trusted pilots for as long as I can remember. He must have taken me around the globe several times and then some, and many of our trips we’ve made in this very plane. A Gulfstream G650ER, my favorite out of the entire fleet. And John Bennett’s pride and joy.
“Aaaah.” I tilt my head to the side for a deep stretch. One of the advantages of being older and more experienced is that I have learned that when you fly 14 hours non-stop, your body will stiffen like a dead body if you don’t get up to stretch during the flight. I’ve been up a few times, but still, my neck feels sore. I’m fairly ok.
I guess I should be more worried about the mess of a biology expert sitting across from me. We’d barely lifted off before she fell asleep in her chair. She’s a curious thing. Every move she makes tells me that she’s dying to make a good impression. I’m sure she didn’t mean to fall asleep, because she keeps waking back up, but only to doze off again, like an old lady.
“Mr. Durst, would you like me to wake her up so I can brief her on our program, as we agreed?” Ms. Hanson asked after only an hour in the air and nodded towards Emma. Emma couldn’t sit upright and inch by inch, she leaned over until she was basically napping on the window.
“No, just leave her,” I replied and tried to find my most disapproving expression to cover for the outburst of laughter that was building up inside.
I’m surrounded by people who go out of their way to behave impeccably. They say what they think I want to hear. And either my employees never make a single mistake, or they carefully hide errors from me. So it feels deliberating to be around someone who so clearly embraces every single opportunity to make mistakes in front of me.