Elliott
Bridget has her own family. They are all teenagers now, but they need her, too, and I’m sure she misses them, however much she likes the Majorcan sun. She’s ended up staying to help me out far longer than she expected.
A few technical problems and the charter jet company misses out on a bundle of cash, while Cheapeasy sells one of its last tickets to my destination that day. My co-star thought I was mad. “Nothing would possess me to get me on one of those flights,” she said. “You’ll get mobbed.”
Well, I haven’t been mobbed. Just trodden on. The disguise is not bad, and in any case, everyone is too busy getting on, finding their seat, and dealing with their bags to notice anyone else.
I hope the girl in the seat next to me doesn’t make a fuss when she returns. There was a flutter of recognition and then confusion on her face. Nice eyes. Sweet lips. Great body squeezing past me. I should ask her out. While I wait for her to come back, the cabin crew finally gets to the back of the plane with the drinks cart. I offer to get the old lady in seat 33F something, and she accepts a gin and tonic. “Don’t mind if I do.”
I hand her the drink.
“I like you,” she says. “Nice manners!”
The girl in the next seat returns just in time for me to ask her, “How about you? Would you like a gin and tonic, too? Champagne?”
She shakes her head and politely declines.
“Are you sure? My treat to help with the landing. I’m sure it works better than grabbing an arm.”
“I had better not. I’ve got to work this afternoon. But Pepsi would be good. Thank you.”
I opt for a whisky myself. The drink is not the best single malt in the world, but it hits the spot. We’ve had a rough few days getting the filming finished, an unexpected overrun. The producer having a fit.
“Is your boss a paragon of virtue? No champagne on the job?” I ask. “Sounds like the worst kind of boss.”
“I don’t know. I haven’t met him yet, but no one wants a nanny who’s had too much to drink. Even champagne.”
She’s a nanny going to Palma? “You haven’t met your employer? That’s odd. How did you get the job?”
“Through one of the nanny agencies. It’s all a bit mysterious, but I know I’ll be working for the head of an international company. I’ve only dealt with the agency so far, and they seem reputable enough, but I couldn’t find anything about Travers Enterprises when I did a search. It’s a bit worrying, though the agency assured me it was perfectly legitimate.”
“Oh, that will be Ben Travers. He exists all right. Everyone knows him in Palma. He has a reputation of being very strict with his employees, so you’re right about the champagne.”
She looks alarmed, and I feel a bit sorry I mentioned that. It’s probably the last thing she wants to hear. Pity it also means she’s out of bounds. The more I look at her, the more I like what I see. She’s so natural compared to the women I usually date.
On the other hand, I expected this flight to be tedious, but if all Cheapeasy journeys are full of surprises like this one, I should travel with them more often for the sheer entertainment value.
“Excuse me, do I know you from somewhere? I thought when you took your sunglasses off I recognized you, but I’m not sure.” It’s as if her brain has been working overtime and suddenly, she has to know.
I lift my sunglasses again, and I see the cogs clicking into place.
“Oh right, you’re the guy that was in The Martian.”
“Nope, that was Matt Damon.”
“You were in The Revenant?”
“Wrong again. That was Leonardo.”
She blushes. “You were in Love Actually.”
“Nope. Everyone and his dog was in that one, so good guess, but I wasn’t.”
“You’re an actor though, right?”
“Right.”
“I don’t watch many movies. You can probably tell. I’m a reader, and movies have killed some of my favorite books. The characters never look like they should.”
“Sorry about that. I apologize on behalf of the whole movie industry that it gets things so wrong. I’m Elliott Clark. Pleased to meet you.”
I hold out my hand, and she takes it. Our eyes meet in a moment that seems more, much more, than polite introduction, and for once, it’s not the star-struck look I usually get from women who are not in the movie business. I like that.
“Jenna Matthews,” she says. “And I have heard of you. Sorry. I was being a bit dense.”
“That’s what I get for not doing blockbusters. I’m no A-lister; maybe you’d call me A-minus or B-plus depending on what I did last, but I like the low-budget, high-art stuff.”
“I probably saw you when I was flicking through one of my friend’s celebrity mags. She will be way jealous that I sat next to you, and you bought me a drink. Maybe you can autograph my in-flight magazine or something for her.”
“My pleasure.”