Page 115 of Babies at Coconuts

“Tsk. Tsk. Technology will be the end of all of us.” Julio glanced out the window. “Where do you want to eat?”

“Three days,” Cheri said.

“What?”

“I can only afford to be gone three or four days—counting today. I really do have a company to run.” Cheri wasn’t sure she liked having her former chef make all of the decisions. Paparazzi jumping out of bushes in New York had ruined her appreciation of surprises. Plus, she was a career woman, not the young teen Julio had danced with in the kitchen. Maybe this isn’t such a great idea. She groaned inwardly. But I would love to see my parents.

“Whatever you want, My Cheri. The jetlag is catching up with me. I’m going to snooze for a bit.” Julio closed his eyes but just as quickly reopened them. “How about dinner in Miami tonight at Danny Devito’s restaurant? He has amazing Kobe beef. I’ve got a private plane lined up for midnight to take us to France.”

“I like that idea. Maybe I can find a twenty-four-hour Walgreens and buy some toiletries and a charger.”

“That phone thing again.” Julio shook his head, clucked his tongue, and fell asleep.

Her mind raced. Cheri slept fitfully as lightning strikes slashed through the air. Rain streaked the tiny windows of the chopper. The sky had turned an inky black and the helicopter dipped. Saying silent prayers that they would make it to land, Cheri hoped she hadn’t made a horrible decision. Glancing over at Julio who seemingly didn’t have a care in the world according to his slight snores, Cheri vowed to kiss the ground if and when they landed.

What seemed like hours later, Cheri relaxed when she spotted a lit runway. Finally, the white-knuckle turbulent flight was almost over. As the chopper clumsily landed, the pilot said, “Sorry about that. Damn storm came out of nowhere.”

Oblivious, Julio stretched and yawned. “Are we here?”

~ ~ ~

Devito’s was packed, but after Julio asked to speak with the head chef, they were seated in an intimate corner where servers brought out seemingly every item on the menu.

Nervous, Cheri picked at her food and drank too much wine. Julio insisted on paying the five-hundred-dollar bill for the two of them. Cheri wasn’t sure how much her former private chef had socked away, but he was apparently doing well.

“Thank you, Julio. That was delicious.”

“Nothing’s too good for My Cheri, but you barely ate.” Julio addressed the hostess. “Will you call a cab for us? We need a ride to the airport.”

The hostess muttered something about Uber but relented and called a taxi.

Excusing herself, Cheri went to the restroom, splashed water on her face and glanced at her phone. It showed a seventy-five-percent charge. Julio told her they didn’t have time to find a charger and suggested maybe Europe would have one that was compatible. Staring at the screen, she winced. I want to let my staff know where I am but I had better not waste my battery. They’ll immediately send me a hundred texts.

After the taxi driver pulled up to a private airport, Cheri and Julio climbed inside a nine-passenger Cessna Citation X. A uniformed pilot informed them champagne was chilling. A cheese and fruit tray had been placed on an empty passenger seat and fine china was on a silver tray in another seat.

Cheri climbed across from Julio and buckled her seatbelt. She accepted a glass of bubbly and willed herself to relax.

Luckily the storm had passed and the pilot assured them it would be a smooth flight. He got coffee for himself from a container behind the cockpit, invited them to help themselves, and drew the curtain closed.

After two glasses of champagne, both Cheri and Julio slept for hours.

Awakened by the landing, Cheri yawned as the pilot slid the curtain back and said, “Welcome to Paris.”

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