Page 1 of The Winning Ticket

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TODAY WAS MEANT TO BE A GOOD DAY

BRIANNA

Today started with such promise. It’s my last day of work before my holiday, and all I need to do is hand over the projects I am currently working on to the team assistant, Sarah. I’ve been working on the accounts of our three largest clients, but they are pretty straightforward. I am confident that Sarah won’t make any mistakes, as I’ve set up everything to release on a schedule; she simply needs to work with the social media team to monitor the comments sections and track website traffic.

I look out the window as I head for my office, blinded momentarily by the summer sun reflecting off the water in Sydney Harbour. No matter how long I’ve worked here, I’m still in awe of this amazing view. The office is on the fortieth floor, and we can see all the way to the Pacific Ocean.

As I sit down on the fitball that my boss insists we all must use to start going through everything with Sarah, a message comes through on my phone.

Unknown

Miss Brianna Watkins - This confirms that the transfer of your details for flight ATF55 is complete.

I read the message several times, then send a quick message to my boyfriend, Richard, asking him to look into it for me. He and his assistant had made all the arrangements for our trip, and I assume he’s had his travel agent make some last-minute changes.

“I’m so jealous. I wish I were going to Thailand for two weeks. Have you ever been before?” Sarah asks, staring wistfully at the background of my computer, a beach with crystal clear water lined with coconut trees.

I’d changed it the week before to try and hype myself up for the trip, but it hasn’t really worked.

“Yeah, we go every year. Richard has work to do there, so it’s not really a holiday for him. I actually would have preferred to go somewhere else this year,” I say, rechecking my phone to see if anything has come through.

Still nothing.

“Oh really? Like where?” Sarah asks.

“I kind of just want to chill out somewhere in the mountains or something. I’m not really a beach person. I’d rather just hang out with a book by an open fire instead of lying on a beach in my skimpy bikini,” I say with a shrug.

Sarah blinks at me for a moment. I can tell she can’t really relate.

“Isn’t your boyfriend some famous photographer for, like, swimwear and lingerie models?”

“Yeah. That’s what he’s doing over there - he’s got a shoot for the first week, and then we’re heading to one of his client’s private islands for the second week,” I say, scrolling through my personal email on my phone.

There’s also an email accompanying the text message. I quickly scan it, but I don’t understand what it says. It seems to be about a transfer. Did he change our flights to a different day?

“And you’re not excited about that?” Sarah asks, the disbelief evident in her tone.

“Honestly, when you do this every year, and you’re not into the beach, it’s not that big of a deal. We should get started ’cause I have to leave in like an hour,” I say, trying to get the conversation back on track while continuing to check my phone for a response from Richard.

I already know that most people believe I’m crazy. I don’t need to rehash it again.

An hour later, I am finally done, and I head to Circular Quay to catch the ferry to Rose Bay. Oddly, Richard still hasn’t responded by the time I get to my stop, but I figure I can ask him about it when I get home.

My phone rings, and I check the screen, hoping it’s Richard, but it’s my sister, Morgan, calling from Brisbane.

“Hey, love,” I say, putting the phone to my ear while I start the short walk home.

Well, it would be short if I wasn’t wearing these sky-high stilettos. I silently curse myself for not taking my runners to work today, but Richard has constantly screwed his nose up when I pair them with the work attire he’s helped me put together, so I tend to avoid doing it, even if it’s killing my feet to walk up this hill.

“Hey, B. Just thought I’d call you before you head off. Are you excited?” Morgan asks, and I sigh.

“I mean, I know I should be…”

“But?”

“But you know how much I hate the beach. I just… one day, he’s going to have a shoot somewhere I want to go.”

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