Page 53 of All the Drama from New York

The beach will do Camille a world of good. Now I just need to play my part and do whatever I can to support her.

While the two women continued to chat, Ryan helped the driver load the bags along with the two large boxes which contained Camille’s drafting sketchbooks and fabrics, into the trunk.

Last night as he’d gone to pack his own travel bag, it had occurred to him that he didn’t have enough clothes to last for two weeks. A hurried trip to the apartment in East Orange meant he’d arrived back at West 28thStreet a little before five this morning.

He’d managed to find one of Liam’s old suitcases and press that into use, but it was only now as he stood outside in the early morning light and looked at his brother’s battered case that Ryan finally noticed it’s poor condition.

He was travelling with a woman who hailed from a family of billionaires, and whose elegant luggage was clearly handmade, while his own…

This is embarrassing.

But in true Camille style she’d simply taken one look at the well-travelled case and given him a hopeful grin. “I bet that has seen a few countries, and can tell some great stories.”

Ryan didn’t have the heart to tell her that not only did this suitcase belong to someone else, but he also didn’t own a passport. The farthest he’d been from East Orange was the beach in Florida where they had filmedBachelors on the Beach. His grand plans to use his prize money to travel the world had been cut short the day his pride had floated out into the warm waters of the Gulf of Mexico.

Camille handed him the dress makers dummy. “Be careful with this, it’s got a lot of dials. And they have been carefully preset for my sample size.”

Ryan peeked inside the trunk of the town car and screwed up his face. There was no way it was going to fit. He turned to Camille. “This will have to ride on the seat between us I’m afraid.”

She and Sheila exchanged one final farewell embrace, then Camille got into the car. Ryan gave Sheila a tip of his head. “I promise to bring her back in one piece.”

“You’d better. Because if you don’t, you’ll have Bryce and me to contend with. And then when we’re done Camille’s parents will finish off what’s left of you. Which won’t be much.”

A chuckling Ryan scooted around to the passenger door on the opposite side of the car, and climbed on board.

With the dress makers dummy nestled on the seat between them, Ryan put on his seatbelt. He then took the time to buckle up the model, promising that if it behaved itself, they would stop for snacks on the way. Camille’s already broad smile brokeinto a laugh. “No food around the fabric or the mannequin, remember?”

It was good to see that Camille was more relaxed today. Yesterday she’d been like a cat on a hot tin roof, strange and edgy. He’d been genuinely worried about her mental health when she’d suddenly announced that the current design collection wasn’t good enough, and that she was thinking of starting all over again.

This morning she seemed to be more even tempered, and rational. The original collection would remain, but she would take the time they were on the island to add a couple of new and innovative pieces to help tie it all into theCinderella in the Citytheme.

As the car pulled away from the curb and into the early morning Manhattan traffic Ryan caught a final glimpse of Sheila waving farewell to them. He waved back, then relaxed into the plush leather seat, ready for the long drive out to Fire Island. He couldn’t find fault with Camille’s choice of transport. This was the height of luxury.

I could get so easily used to this sort of living. But one day this will all end, and I’ll be back using the subway trains. Back to living in my crappy old apartment.

He’d just gotten comfortable when the car turned into a parking lot and slowed to a smooth stop. Ryan glanced at Camille. “Are we picking something else up?”

She shook her head. “No. We are the ones getting picked up. Come on.”

The driver opened Camille’s passenger door, and she stepped out. Through the open doorway, Ryan could see the glistening waters of the Hudson River. Were they travelling by boat?

And then he saw the helicopter.

His own passenger side door was opened, and a suited attendant greeted him. “Mister Collins. Welcome to the West 30thStreet Heliport. May I take your luggage?”

He sheepishly handed over the dress makers dummy, but noticed that the attendant didn’t so much as bat an eyelid.

I expect she sees all manner of unusual things each day.

Coming to where Camille stood waiting, Ryan pointed toward the shiny silver helicopter. “Is that for us?”

She nodded. “Yes. You said I could organize the transport, and this made the most sense. We won’t waste time in traffic, and we can be at the guesthouse by mid-morning.”

He glanced nervously at the helicopter once more. “How long is the flight?”

“Forty minutes, door to door. Sheila explained that cars aren’t really much use where we are going, so we’ll be getting taken as close as possible to the guesthouse, then walking from there. Apparently, they’ll provide us with a small hand cart we can use to carry our luggage over to the house. Which sounds fun.”

Now he understood why the rental people had asked about their needs, and what they planned to eat during their two week stay. In true Ryan fashion, he’d sent them a detailed list.

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