A Stirring from Salem (7 page)

Charley’s airport experience at Heathrow wasn’t quite the same as the one John and Marlena had experienced in Geneva. Heathrow was always a madhouse, even on New Year’s Day. Charley had flown out of the massive airport dozens of times on her trips from her family home in Holland Park to Choate Rosemary Hall, the prestigious prep school in Connecticut from which she’d graduated a year earlier.

When the town car carrying her and Vince pulled up to the gleaming glass-and-steel structure, Charley smiled. Terminal 5 had only been open since 2008, but it was one of her favorites. The days when time spent in an airport was torture were long gone; not only was the futuristic terminal a creative masterpiece, but it had a First Class lounge that was, well, first class.

Their arrival time was perfect. Charley could see that several others from the crew for the shoot were gathered just inside waiting, and they appeared to be the crème de la crème. MAC’s brilliant senior makeup artist, Gregory Arlt; hair god Alex Roldan; and über-stylist Rachel Zoe’s latest protégée, Ashley Avignone, were all deep in conversation, along with an already frazzled assistant.

Vince led the way into the terminal as Charley handed their boarding passes to the skycap. It was a quick and simple process, but she could sense Vince’s impatience as he waved her inside.

“Everyone, meet my new assistant,” Vince stated as she entered, trailing their carry-ons behind her. “Charley Gaines, meet everyone.”

Before anyone even had a chance to respond, Vince strode toward the security check-ins.

“Hi, all,” is all Charley could get out before falling in step behind him.

“I had better see Blonde, Black, and Red in the lounge,” Vince muttered as he scanned the crowd.

I guess this is on-the-clock time, Charley thought to herself.

***

The First Class lounge, the Concorde Room, was on the far end of the terminal on the upper level, and Charley knew it well. When she entered and saw the polished wood counter with the floor-to-ceiling bar visible behind it, she felt at home.

“Gary,” she said to the agent behind the highly polished, burled wood counter.

“Charley, nice to see you. Sorry about—last year?” he added with a bit of hesitation. Charley had found that people who knew about her family crisis often didn’t know what to say.

“I’m doing fine,” she hedged. “We all are.” Then she shifted gears. “We’re together,” she added as she slid hers and Vince’s boarding passes toward him. “Working,” she clarified as Gary looked at Vince.

“Come right in…Oh—whoops,” he grimaced. “Mr. Castle is fine. But your ticket is economy. You’ll have to wait outside,” Gary told her reluctantly.

Charley was thrown. She hadn’t even looked at her ticket or given it a second thought. She hadn’t traveled economy class since she was five. While she didn’t consider herself spoiled, this isn’t exactly what she had expected.

“Oh,” was all she could muster. She turned to Vince, “Vince, I’ll be right outsi—”

But Vince had already moved into the lounge and was headed to the bar. From Charley’s vantage point, she could see Vince approach three women at the bar. The so-called blonde, black, and red must be the models Vince had hired for the shoot, she figured.

“At least they’re here.” Charley smiled wanly at the embarrassed desk agent. “The models.”

“And only one of them is drunk,” Gary said, smiling and tipping his hand to his mouth as Charley made her way out the door.

While passengers passed in and out, Charley waited patiently. When the door was opened a crack, she strained to see Vince but to no avail.

Maybe I should have asked a few questions, she thought.

After about ten minutes, she was startled when the door opened again and Vince exited with the three models in tow.

The young blonde was luminescent, though a bit vacant, and the African-American was radiant. And the redhead? She was not only drunk, she was…
Scarlett O’Hara
, Charley gasped to herself.

Vince put his hand on the small of Scarlett’s back and led the wobbly supermodel past Charley, the other models following.

“Everyone, meet my new assistant,” Vince said, echoing his earlier introduction as they walked past her.

“Charley,” she offered.

“Brigitta.” The blonde nodded sweetly, and then hiccupped.

“I’m Nikki.” The raven-haired beauty smiled as they moved on in sync.

“Don’t I know you?” Scarlett slurred as she checked out Charley through her haze.

“Not really,” Charley said, trying to keep from stirring the pot.

You knew me when I was nine, Charley mused. When you dumped my brother.

Steve was nursing a beer in front of the TV, watching the Rose Bowl game from Pasadena, when a news bulletin broke in.

“Police have arrested eleven suspected members of a major rhino-poaching ring. They have been linked to a number of incidents, including one last night in which five rhino were apparently killed in the Timbavati, their horns severed.”

“Whew!” Kayla said as she entered from Joe’s room, interrupting the broadcast. “Joe is sleeping like a baby.”

“Shhhh!” Steve said, silencing her.

Kayla froze in her tracks as the news account continued.

“According to Johannesburg police, the suspects include two well-respected Kruger National Park rangers and a game farmer. They are expected to appear in court on Wednesday to face charges including assault, defeating the ends of justice, fraud, corruption, malicious injury to property, and illegal possession of weapons and ammunition. It is the largest arrest made since the war against the poachers escalated in the past six months. We will bring you more details as we receive them…”

The bulletin ended and the football game returned to the screen just as Wisconsin scored a touchdown.

“I didn’t mean to shush you, Sweetness. I’m sorry,” Steve answered as he was pulled out of his reverie.

“Don’t be,” she answered. “It’s still so amazing to me that all that danger is really out there.” She pointed to the vastness that was just outside their doors.

“Try being a guy wanting to make sure his wife and son are as safe as they can be.”

“If I were a rhino, maybe you’d need to worry,” Kayla answered. “But these despicable creatures couldn’t care less about us, unless we get in their way. All they care about is the money.”

“You do feel safe here, don’t you?” Steve asked.

“With you by my side, absolutely,” Kayla offered gently. “If we didn’t need to get Joe back to the States for school when he’s older, I’d live here forever.”

“For the people,” Steve said. He knew his wife and how committed she was to offering aid to the thousands of villagers.

“They need us,” she said, agreeing.

“But you are happy about John and Marlena coming in?” He grinned.

“I am
so
excited to see them,” she admitted.

“I know you are, Sweetness,” Steve said.

“Aren’t you?” she said, intrigued by his tone.

He was actually torn; he was excited to see them, of course, but he had a strong feeling that the secret he was keeping was about to get bigger. Since Bill didn’t want Kayla to know about the likely fate of the clinic, he would most likely keep John and Marlena in the dark, too. Bill was a man of tremendous pride, and a handout was the last thing he’d ask for.

“It’ll be great to see them, yes,” Steve nodded.

John and Steve had been two of the strongest, most romantic and charismatic men Salem had ever seen. They were both alpha males on the opposite ends of the spectrum. Steve “Patch” Johnson was the quintessential bad boy from the wrong side of the tracks, and John was the sexy, sophisticated stranger with a past more convoluted than Jason Bourne’s. The two men had butted heads on more than one occasion, but their respect for each other had never wavered.

“Amazing what money can do, isn’t it,” Kayla said, more as a statement than a question. “I can’t even imagine what a private jet costs from Geneva down here. But it’s their money, and whatever makes them happy makes me happy.”

Steve looked at the woman who’d seen him through more than a life’s worth of trials. Her goodness and sincerity melted his heart.

“I like to see that smile, baby,” Steve said.

“I like your smile, too,” she responded. “And I know that whatever had you distracted earlier is not doing anything to help.”

“Not really,” he said, reacting to her tone and glancing at her sideways.

“Will this?” she asked, picking up the remote and clicking off the TV. Then she moved to the music system near their deck windows and turned it on.

Steve couldn’t help but smile as he heard “The Lady in Red” filter through the speakers. Since the day it was released, it had remained their song.

Kayla was silhouetted against the Southern Hemisphere’s unpredictable night sky as she slipped her white cotton robe from her shoulders. Underneath was a lacy, short, red silk nightie that skimmed her frame.

Steve rose from his chair and joined her.

“You do know how to make a man smile,” he said, his voice hoarse as he pulled her close.

Kayla melted into his arms as they moved as one in the moonlight.

Despite whatever mystery and danger and life lurked just outside, their own primal dance had begun.

The sun was filtering through the crack in the window next to Charley’s row on the Boeing 744. She sat dozing in her middle seat with the project binder still open on her lap.

“Hey,” Charley heard as a slim hand jostled her awake.

Her eyes fluttered open to see Scarlett leaning across the annoyed stylist’s assistant sitting next to her.

“Hi,” Charley muttered, half awake.

“You are Jackson Gaines’ sister!” Scarlett said in a voice loud enough to wake everyone around her.

“I am.” Charley half smiled. “Does Vince need me?” she asked quietly.

“How is that gorgeous brother of yours?” Scarlett asked, totally ignoring the stares from the grumbling passengers.

“Engaged,” Charley answered. “And I think you’re being a little—loud?” she whispered.

“Ma’am,” Scarlett heard from behind her. She turned to face a lovely flight attendant of about thirty. “You need to get back to your seat.”

“‘Ma’am’?” Scarlett bristled.

“Please,” the attendant offered pleasantly.

“I’m just talking to my friend,” Scarlett said, wide-eyed.

“We’ll be landing in thirty minutes, and we need to make sure everyone’s in their seats,” the attendant said, gently putting her hand on Scarlett’s arm to guide her. “This way.”

“Don’t touch me!” Scarlett bristled, stepping back and knocking a cup of coffee out of the hand of a passenger in the middle section.

“Jeez Louise!” the passenger grumbled.

“Ma’am…
Miss
…please,” the attendant snapped.

“If you hadn’t pushed me, that wouldn’t have happened!” Scarlett shrieked.

Charley stuffed the binder into her satchel and climbed over the girl next to her, trying to quell the situation.

“Scarlett, let’s get you back where you belong,” Charley begged. “We’re really sorry, everyone.”

“We?” Scarlett snapped. Then she noticed that passengers up and down the narrow rows were all staring back at the commotion. “What are you all looking at?” she shouted. Then she glared at Charley. “And sit yourself down.”

This really is not going well, Charley thought.

“Excuse me,” Scarlett barked at the attendant.

As the attendant plastered herself against one of the seats, Scarlett strode by. “And that was
your
fault, not mine!”

Charley sighed and climbed back into her seat.

None of them noticed a girl in the bulkhead filming a video of the entire tirade on her iPhone.

***

It was six-thirty in the morning when they finally landed. After going through customs and security in Jo’burg, they had a two-hour layover before climbing onto a South African Airways flight for Hoedspruit. Fortunately, the airport’s First Class lounge had been voted one of the best in the world, and the entire team was invited in for breakfast.

The moment Charley walked in the lounge, she could see that Vince was not happy. He was reading something on his phone as she approached.

“How did this happen?” Vince asked Charley without even looking up.

“Beg your pardon?” she asked sweetly.

“The client is now pissed that I hired Scarlett.”

“Why?”

“Her meltdown on the plane is already online,” Vince said as he showed it to Charley.

“What?” Charley was dumbstruck.

“Spectator.com,” Vince said.

Charley’s heart sank.

“There are times when gossip is good, but this ain’t one of ’em,” Vince added. “See if you can find out who gave it to them. I want whoever’s responsible fired.”