Page 43 of Long Shot

Jazz shrugged. “It’s your funeral. How are you going to avoid the paps?”

Mac slung her bag over her shoulder as she got a text from a driver downstairs. “Apparently I’m getting there early, long before the announced boarding time. So, I’ll get on first and then she’ll come later.

Helping gather her things, Jazz laughed. “What does Babs think about all of this?”

Mac raised a finger to her lips and shushed her. “What Barbara doesn’t know, won’t hurt her.”

“Jesus Christ.” Jazz rubbed her forehead.

Pulling her in for a hug, Mac chuckled. “Just worry about your match, okay? Text me when you land and we’ll meet up for lunch or something.”

Jazz nodded. “Thanks again, for paying for me to go. It means a lot.”

Mac grabbed her bags and opened the door. “I’m just doing it so I can kick your ass on international television.” Before Jazz could retort, Mac slammed the door and hauled ass downstairs.

Having some extra money was everything Mac had dreamed of. Not only had multiple sponsors come forward to pay for her room and board in London but she was actually able to buy Jazz a plane ticket and a hotel room. With any luck, all of her friends would be able to get their start too.

Mac pushed open the rickety lobby door to the street, where a man in a three-piece, black suit stood in front of a hulking black SUV – the same kind that picked Mac up to bring her to Taylor’s place.

“Miss Bennet, let me take your bags.” The driver nodded as he held out his arms, effortlessly taking each of the bags.

Flying private also meant bringing as much of her shit as she wanted. Babs couldn’t complain about paying extra for a carryon anymore. With her bags loaded into the trunk, Mac slid into the backseat and prepared for an easy drive. The drive to JFK was a quick thirty minutes – a sharp contrast to the hour or more ride on the subway and multiple air trams.

When the driver’s door slammed shut, the car pulled out in a matter of seconds. It was the last week in June, and because of Wimbledon, Mac would miss Pride weekend in the city for the first time in a while. But it would all be worth it if she could claim her first Grand Slam win. And with the Wildcard in hand, Mac’s chances were getting higher by the moment.

She watched out of the window as the car got closer to JFK, entering a lowered highway that sat below street level. It felt likean open air tunnel, pushing Mac closer and closer to the airport. When they emerged, the driver avoided all of the signage for each Terminal. Instead, he turned down a small street that led to a chain link fence.

As soon as the car pulled up, the automatic gate swung open and the car pulled through. Mac shook her head.So this is how Taylor’s been living all these years.

When the car came to a halt on the tarmac, the driver turned to face Mac. “Miss Young has requested that you wear this.” He handed her a blonde wig and a pair of Gucci sunglasses.

Mac laughed. “What is this? A spy movie?”

The driver tried not to smile. “Even though we don’t see any paparazzi, Miss Young doesn’t want to risk it.”

Mac nodded. “Whatever she wants.” Grabbing the wig, Mac found the inside and threw it on. She didn’t need to see a mirror of herself to know how absolutely insane she must have looked. She wasn’t the most masculine sapphic in the world, but she certainly wouldn’t describe herself as femme.

Once she put on the sunglasses, Mac cleared her throat. “Ready.”

“Great. We’ll load in your luggage. Just get out of the car, keep your head down and walk up the stairs. Once you’re inside, you can take off the disguise.” The driver nodded.

Mac shrugged. “Got it.” Taking in a deep breath, Mac pushed open the door and was met by the sound of planes taking off. She slipped out of the seat and did as she was told – heading straight for the steps of the charter plane. It took everything in her to not gawk at it. She’d never even walked on a tarmac, let alone toward a private jet.

But she gripped the metal railing of the stairs and carefully ascended. The plane was surprisingly quiet.

Nearing the top of the stairs, Mac tried to peek inside the open cabin door. But the sun was too bright to see the dim space. She entered the cabin relatively blind.

A soft voice greeted her. “Welcome aboard, Miss Bennett.”

When Mac’s eyes adjusted, she looked up to see a stunning flight attendant holding a glass of champagne. Her white blouse was tucked in perfectly to the navy blue skirt that matched.

Mac smiled at her. “Hi, nice to meet you.” It was tempting, the cold glass of bubbly drink being presented to her. She bit her lip…one glass won’t kill my game.Mac grabbed the glass and walked farther into the plane.

“You can take a seat wherever you’d like. Miss Young typically sits in the back where there is the most privacy.” The flight attendant gestured to a small doorway halfway across the plane. “You may also remove your wig and glasses now that you’re inside.”

Mac’s forehead wrinkled as she looked at the dozens of windows on every side. “Can’t they see inside?”

The flight attendant shook her head. “No, the windows have been UV treated to keep out… prying eyes.”

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