Page 85 of Anyone But You
* * *
My cheeks hurt from all the fake smiling, and I felt I would be in a sling tomorrow from all the waving at my welcoming employees.
I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to keep up thecharade. I want to be home, annoying my wife, not shaking hands and accepting bone-crushing hugs. I wonder what she’s up to.
I had my phone out, ready to text Victoria, when I passed her office. The door was slightly ajar, and the light was off. I pushed the door open and switched on the light. The room was untouched. Her chair was pushed in, and a coffee mug I bought her as a joke that said, “Best Worst Employee” still rested on a coaster in front of her desk phone.
It was quiet. Too quiet, and I wondered how I’d function without her if she never returned as my assistant. Victoria lit a fire under me like no one ever had, forcing me to strive to be better every day. But as I stood in that cold, desolate office, it became perfectly clear that she was the pulse of the office, and without her, I felt hollow.
I approached her desk and swiped the stapler off.
“Say one more word, and I’ll staple your lips shut,” I mimicked in a falsetto voice while clicking the stapler several times.
A throat cleared behind me.
I glanced over my shoulder to find a severe gentleman in an expensive charcoal suit. He stepped into the office like his name was on the fucking building, not mine. His suit was tailored, and his shoes were so polished I could see myself reflected in them.
His jaw locked, and his lips pressed into a thin line. He was furious. It was controlled, but barely. His eyes flicked from the stapler, then back to me.
“The tabloids claimed you lost your mind on the island. I thought I’d come see for myself before passing judgment, but it seems they might be right.”
I set the stapler down and shifted my body to face the mysterious man head-on.
“Well, it’s like they say, a broken clock is right twice a day.”
The man’s jaw tightened, and I quickly scanned to see if he had a weapon holstered to his hip. I was only slightly relieved when I didn’t notice one.
“May I help you?” I asked, taking control of the confrontation.
“I wanted to talk to you about my boy.”
“Your boy? Who is your boy? You’ll have to be more specific than that.”
The man’s fists clenched at his sides as a flush of red climbed his neck, rising to his face like mercury in a thermometer.
“First Officer Joshua Lancaster.”
* * *
“Tell me…everything,” Mr. Lancaster demanded in a flat, unrelenting tone.
We’d moved our impromptu meeting to my office with security on standby in case Mr. Lancaster considered avenging his son’s death.
I need to speak with my Head of Security because some incompetent son of a bitch allowed Mr. Lancaster free range of my building.
“Everything as in?”
“From the time you boarded the plane until my son’s demise.” We locked gazes, and I could see it in his eyes—the hint of grief and vulnerability masked by pain and rage. “You’re going to tell me everything,” he said, voice tight, almost shaking. “From takeoff to the moment my son died.”
I had a choice. I could tell the truth, or lie and tell the man his son died a hero swimming back out to sea to rescue the rest of the crew, and had gotten swept away. But I could tell frommy brief interaction with Mr. Lancaster that he was a man who could see through bullshit like an X-ray machine.
“Are you sure you want the truth?”
“I didn’t come here for comfort,” he snapped. “I came for answers.”
I nodded slowly before delivering the truth.
“The first leg of the flight went without incident. There were three pilots—Captain Lowell Charleston, your son, First Officer Joshua Lancaster, and a relief pilot, First Officer Brendan Holt. Captain Charleston and First Officer Holt completed the first leg of the journey. First Officer Holt did not return after our overnight layover, leaving Captain Charleston and First Officer Lancaster to complete the last leg of the journey. I felt turbulence. They weren’t alarming at first, but I became concerned when the turbulence became more violent. I entered the cockpit to see what the hell was going on. Captain Charleston collapsed. Your boy said he suffered a seizure. Upon investigation, I found that Captain Charleston was deceased. Your son alerted me that there were catastrophic mechanical issues, and it was then that I knew we needed to prepare to land.”
