Chapter 35 – Brynn
I jump into the car and tell my driver to step on it.
"To JFK airport, please," I tell him.
He nods at me and looks at me a little bit funny, since I don't have any bags and hadn’t made any plans to be taken to the airport today, but I don't fill him in. I rub my hands together anxiously, hoping that I make it in time to talk to Larson in person. If I've calculated the timing right, I'll just make it before his boarding time.
I'm hoping he can come to the security gate and talk to me through the rope. It will be like in a romantic movie.
There's a traffic pile-up on Grand Central Parkway that throws a kink into my plans.
"Please hurry," I say, once my driver is able to get out of the bumper to bumper traffic caused by a wreck.
"I am, Ms. Elliot."
Of course he is. I'm just so impatient. Hoping my plan will still somehow work out.
But when he nears the exit for the airport and I look again at the clock on his dashboard, I know I won't have enough time.
I decide to go all the way with my crazy idea. Hell, I'll buy a plane ticket if I have to, just to get up to the gate and see him if they won't let him run to security and back.
The driver lets me out at the ticketing area and I have to stand in line to get to an available desk.
"I need to buy a ticket to Albuquerque," I tell the lady working the counter, who looks as frazzled as I feel.
"For when?" she asks, keying up the screen in front of her.
"For right now," I tell her. "The last flight of the day."
She looks at me like I have two heads.
"Ma'am, that flight was already delayed and it is now in pre-boarding," she says.
"I know," I tell her. "But I don't have any bags or anything and I just want to run to the gate in time to meet my boyfriend real quick."
Now she looks at me suspiciously, like maybe I'm a terrorist. But I'm still kind of shocked that I just said the word "boyfriend."
"Ma'am, that flight is sold out."
"That's okay," I tell her. "I just need the ticket to get through security. Not to actually get on the plane."
She reaches for a phone underneath the desk. Now she undoubtedly really does think I'm a terrorist.
"Please don't think I'm crazy," I tell her quickly. "He's a passenger on that flight. His name is Larson Campbell. I just need to explain something to him before he gets on the flight, so that he won't hate me and so we still have a chance."
I realize I definitely sound crazy. A desperate woman chasing the lover who doesn't want her. Like that astronaut who drove cross- country in a diaper. But I don't even care. Clearly I let logic fly out the window as soon as I hatched this hair-brained idea.
"Look," I tell her, gesturing down at the ID I had put on the counter in my attempt to buy a ticket. "I'm a lawyer. My firm, Makens & Holstead, actually represents your airline in a number of matters. I don't usually sound so dumb. But this is really important to me and I just have to try, you know? I feel like this could be true love. And when true love is on the horizon, you have to try to do everything you can to reach it."
I realize I sound like I'm straight out of a cheesy romance novel. But I'm trying every trick in the book to get this lady to help me. And I guess it’s working, because she's taking her hand off the phone and looking at me quizzically.
"Please help me," I tell her, remembering what my mentor Jane Holstead once told me.
When you want something, first act as if you own it already. Ownership is 9/10ths of the law. And it's better to ask for forgiveness than permission.
If that doesn’t work, then ask for permission. The worst thing that can happen is that the other person says no. You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take.
But then I cut myself off from listing the advice of my mentor. It applies more to negotiation than to trying to make up with a lover.
What a stupid idea. To think I could cause some kind of romantic movie scene that would make it possible to sufficiently apologize to Larson.
The fact is, I blew it and this hair-brained idea isn't going to save me.
"Okay," she says, with a sigh.
She pulls up the flight information again on her computer screen.
"What'd you say this Larson guy’s last name is?"
"Campbell," I tell her gratefully. "Thank you so much."
But her face falls.
"I'm sorry honey, but he's already on the plane. And once that happens, they're not letting a passenger get off just to try to patch up a relationship on the rocks, you know?"
Now it's my turn to sigh.
"I know," I tell her.
Makes perfect sense. Or at least, it makes a lot more sense than my last-minute run to the airport does.
"Sorry, hon," she says. "I do like to try to support true love whenever I have the chance."
"I really appreciate it," I tell her, heading back to the exit and texting my driver to pull back around for me.
It was the dumbest idea ever. Now Larson is on the plane thinking I didn’t call at all except to tell him I’d talk to him soon. If I had any hope of salvaging what we had, I can just kiss that goodbye right now.