Page 10 of Kissing Games
Charlie sat back down with a thump.Well, that went well.
He turned his phone over and looked at the scrawl.
Valentina.
She was too small to be a model. An actress maybe?
He opened his browser and searchedValentina, actress. Less than a second later, he found her: Valentina Valverde, the most famous actress Colombia had ever produced.
Way to go, player…
At least he would never see her again.
4
Charlie sat in the small seat, his long legs sticking out into the aisle, his heart racing.
Back in the terminal, he’d promised himself he would stop googling Valentina after five minutes. But time became elastic when he was looking at pictures of her. He’d been snapped back into reality with his name echoing through the tannoy for his flight. He sprinted to the gate to do the walk of shame down the centre of the plane as passengers tutted and looked obviously at their watches.
He now sat, eyes closed, his breath quieting as images of Valentina spun through his mind. Her smile, her glossy hair, her luscious curves poured into designer dresses. Strutting her stuff on the red carpet, lounging in low-slung yoga pants at her beachfront Malibu mansion. She was luminous. He couldn’t remember watching any of her films. He’d read online that she’d been working since she was a child, starting on a Colombian soap and graduating to films in her late teens. She’d had top billing in Spanish language films, but her Hollywood roles had been small. He’d also googled ‘Valentina Valverde boyfriend’ but couldn’t find anything that looked serious. He shook his head. As if he would ever see her again, let alone have a chance to make amends.
A humming unease lurked at the outer edges of his consciousness, a warning of thoughts and feelings left unprocessed. His relationship with Caroline was finally over. So, he’d taken his memories of her, boxed them up and buried them behind a ten-foot wall topped with razor wire. But they and other darker memories were fighting to get out, sending tremors through his mind, pushing for his attention. He couldn’t go there. He just couldn’t. So, he kept his thoughts on Rory, the job he was going to do and his brief encounter with Valentina.
‘Excuse me, sir?’
His eyes snapped open.
An air hostess smiled benignly at him and gestured to his outstretched legs. ‘Could you move a little so we can get past?’
Charlie pulled them in, his knees now wedged into the back of the seat in front as the air hostess continued on, followed by someone carrying a rucksack.
A very familiar rucksack.
He looked up, catching Valentina’s eye as she stopped and stared at him.
He opened his mouth to speak but she flicked her head and walked on. He went to follow, but forgot his seat belt was fastened and was pulled back down. Flipping it open, he stood and promptly bashed his head on the overhead lockers.
‘Fuck!’
He strode down the aisle towards the small first-class section at the front of the plane. He needed to see her, to apologise. The plane was now taxiing down the runway and the fasten seat belt signs were on. Charlie ignored them. Ahead, Valentina was stowing her rucksack. She looked at him as the curtain separating first class was whisked across the aisle, blocking his view.
The air hostess faced him down. ‘Please can you return to your seat and fasten your belt for take-off, sir?’
Charlie mumbled an apology. Maybe he could catch her at the end of the flight. It was a short hop north to Scotland. It wouldn’t be long to wait.
The plane disembarkedfrom the front, Valentina getting off first. Charlie was left at the back, waiting for everyone to sort their shit out and get out of his way. He kept his hands by his sides, resisting the urge to pull down bags and bark orders at people who had no sense of forethought or urgency. He internally berated himself.She was gone and that was that. He had to put thoughts of her into storage and focus on the job. Soon he’d be back with his best mate and reunited with Bandit, the unit dog who saved both their lives.
Reaching baggage reclaim, he glanced skyward to offer a prayer of thanks. Valentina was still there, on her phone, tapping her foot impatiently. Charlie’s bag appeared next to a large battered suitcase with a scratched sticker of the Colombian flag stuck to it. He strode towards the carousel next to Valentina, her voluble Spanish rattling out.
‘Mi maleta está aquí. Te llamaré en un momento. Te amo.’
She finished the call and reached for her suitcase as Charlie lifted off his bag.
‘¡Mierda!’ she yelled.
The wheels of her suitcase had been ripped off. She looked up at him as if it were his fault.
He dropped his bag and held up his hands. ‘Nothing to do with me. I swear!’
