Accidental Tryst (Charleston #1)(5)

His shoulders slumped. "Damn. And you're so hot too."

I snorted an unexpected laugh. "Um, thanks . . .?"

"Your loss."

"Yours apparently."

"It was worth a try." He tilted his head toward the flight attendant and her cart. "You could buy me a screwdriver, and we'll call it even."

"You're fifteen," I hissed. "I'm not committing a crime just to get into someone's phone."

"Bitcoin?"

"Is that a question?"

"I guess not." Again he shrugged. "As I said, I can do it. But if you don't really need a phone . . . then whatevs." He slipped his massive earphones back over his ears and closed his eyes, chin bopping.

I squeezed the phone in my hand. "Fine." I sighed.





3





Emmy





Concourse B, La Guardia Airport

Two hours later

"This will never be discussed, is that clear?" I scowled.

"Yes, ma'am. Do you want my number?"

"No!" I thought of my phone issues and general computer issues. "Yes. Maybe. And don't call me ma'am. It makes me feel ancient."

The kid grinned. His braces had blue elastics.

"As long as you know I will never, ever do that again," I reiterated and winced. "But maybe I can call you to ask questions?" God, I sounded pathetic.

He nodded and handed me a business card.

"You have a business card?" I looked down.

"Sure. I'm a YouTuber when I'm not mining bitcoin. Gotta have those for cons and shit."

"Cons?"

"Conferences? Conventions?"

This day was shaping up to be the most surreal of my twenty-eight-year-long life. I read his name. "Xanderr? What kind of a name is that?"

"It's my YouTuber name. You can call me Al."

"As in the Paul Simon song?" What the hell was I going to do? I couldn't call anyone. All my phone numbers were in my contacts. I couldn't remember a single one.

"As in short for Alex? Alexander? My real name." He raised his eyebrows. "Who's Paul Simon?"

"Never mind." I shook my head. "Sure, sorry."

"Well, I don't tell anyone my real name. But I like you, Mad Emmy."

"Just Emmy." I glanced at the phone in my hand. It was now unlocked with the passcode disabled.

"Cool. So, I gotta jet, yeah?" He pulled on a cherry red cap with the peak as straight as a ruler and yanked it sideways on his head. "Good luck with the owner of that phone. My spidey senses say you're gonna need it."

"Thank you, I think."

Al gave me a peace sign and turned, lumbering away down the concourse with his pants hanging low and his high tops undone.

I grinned at his retreating figure in spite of my dilemma.

Al had put the phone back on Airplane Mode after unlocking it so I could think about what to do. As long as it was on Airplane Mode it couldn’t be tracked. Not sure what that accomplished for me except the owner of the phone wouldn't immediately assume it had been stolen and cancel it. He might think it was in his luggage somewhere.

Who was I kidding?

I glanced around the busy concourse. I needed a pay phone, but of course those probably didn’t exist anymore.

A twenty-minute walk turned up nothing, so I ended up using the phone at the information desk. I typed in the digits for my own number. My fingers were sweaty. Why was I so nervous? It was an honest mistake.

My call connected and began to ring, making my heart pound. Not straight to voicemail. So my phone was on. Maybe no one had taken mine, and it was still sitting there at the charging station.

No, I would have seen it. The only way I could have taken the wrong one was if it was the only one there. Finally my voicemail clicked on, and I heard my voice asking the caller to leave a message.

It beeped. "Um . . ." I was leaving myself a message. Seriously? "Um . . . This is my phone."

I glanced up at the information agent, an older African-American gentleman who was looking at me askance. "I mean . . . I'm calling my own phone to leave a message in case you, whoever you are, took it, or whatever. Um . . . God, this is stupid," I finished on a mumble and thrust the mouthpiece toward the information agent. His name tag read Phillip.

Phillip took it slowly and hung it up, his eyebrows raised. "Sounds like you got yourself into a bit of a pickle. Why don't you go on into the wireless store over there and get you a new one. They can keep your number these days, you know."

"I know. But I can't." My shoulders slumped. "I can't afford it right now, and anyway all my contacts and photos and all that stuff is on my phone, not backed up and . . ."

A thought struck me. Oh shit! I leaned across the counter and grabbed the phone set back and with shaking fingers dialed my number again. It rang, and I drummed my fingers impatiently.

"Please don't cancel your phone," I blurted as soon as I heard the beep. "Listen . . . I can't be without a phone and . . . I may have yours? I mean if you took mine, then I'm pretty sure I took yours. By accident. Please. I know you don't know me." My mind raced to come up with a solution. "I'm in New York now. I don't know where you live or where you were going, but if there's a chance you were arriving in Charleston, I'll be back there in three days. We could meet and swap phones back?" I blew out a breath. "I . . . please?" Swallowing, my cheeks beating with heat from my predicament, I tried again. "If . . . you don't mind I can make a couple of calls with your phone and you can use mine, I would be forever grateful. It's just . . . if you get a call or a text message from someone called David, can you pretend to be me? I mean on text, not on a call obviously, and say . . . oh jeez. God, I'm babbling. Can you just call me back if you get this? On this number, I'll wait a little while."