One Wild Night (Hollywood Chronicles #1)(36)
He inhales and narrows his eyes at Kendall, a war of unspoken words raging between the two of them. “I think you'll want this,” he says, quietly dropping the pieces of paper into my hand. “I'm going to see if I can find Kaylee.” He shoots a pointed look over my shoulder directly at Kendall as I decipher what in the hell is happening.
I look at the palm of my hand with shreds of paper, and I can tell I'm holding a check, but what it's for is beyond me. As I inspect the pieces more closely, I can see the letters 'Kay' handwritten in Kendall's distinct handwriting.
I turn around to see Kendall standing tall in defiance, her chin raised as I slowly begin to piece everything together.
“Where's Kaylee,” I ask again through gritted teeth. Kendall's obstinance is starting to wear on my nerves as anger begins to set in. I'm done fucking around with Kendall and her petty bullshit.
She waves her free hand dismissing my concern. “She's headed back to the States, where she belongs. This charade needed to end, so I ended it.” Her lips twist into a fake smile before she finishes off the rest of her champagne, smacking her lips when she finishes.
With one long stride, I reach out and grab Kendall's arm, never having touched a woman in such an aggressive manner before. The delicate champagne glass falls from her hand and to the floor, shattering into a million little pieces at our feet.
“Pax!” she says with a hush as I yank her toward me.
“Where the fuck is she,” I bark at her, causing her eyes to widen in fear. I've let Kendall run the show for too fucking long. She's my publicist, not my handler.
“Probably on her way to the airport right about now.” She glances at the large clock on the wall in the green room. “Her flight is scheduled to leave in an hour.”
An hour. Sixty minutes. There is no way I'll make it to Heathrow in sixty minutes at this time of day. I squeeze Kendall's arm, and she gasps, “You're fired!” I tell her, anger seething with every word.
“You have crossed the line, Kendall. For years, I have been patient with you, allowing you to make decisions that weren’t yours to make. I trusted you, as my publicist to have my back. But this…you know how I feel about Kaylee. I told you what I had with Kaylee was different and you were so threatened by that, that you just had to try and destroy the one thing that has made me genuinely happy. Well, fuck you, Kendall. Fuck you.”
I spit the words in her face. Her eyes wide at my outburst. I release her arm and take a step backward as I try to figure out how in the hell I can get to Kaylee.
“Kenneth!” I shout and he appears at my side almost instantly.
“I'm already on it,” he cuts in. “I'm making calls to every airline. I don't know that they'll stop her from boarding, but I'll do my best.” He offers me a sympathetic look. “I've already requested Ronald bring the car around. He'll meet us at the back entrance.”
I nod in appreciation. Thank God for Kenneth.
“This way.” He points to a door that will take us out the back way.
The alley smells of piss and garbage, but Ronald is waiting with the door open when we exit the back of the theater. He hurries us inside the car while Kenneth continues to call every airline with flights to the United States.
Meanwhile, I'm blowing up Kaylee's phone with texts and phone calls, only each one is met with a return message that I've been blocked.
“Fuck!” I scream and toss my phone across the limo to the seat next to Kenneth. He eyes me carefully as he continues to speak in a professional tone.
“I'm looking for a passenger, Kaylee Burton. She's left something here in London that we're trying to get to her before she leaves,” he speaks calmly and professionally. “Yes, I understand you can't tell me if she's on your flight…” I can hear his voice growing more agitated with each call and my anxiety continues to spiral out of control.
“Then tell me what flights you have leaving Heathrow to anywhere in the U.S. tonight?” he asks. His pen anxiously tapping a small leather-bound notebook on his lap. “Fourteen fifty-two to LaGuardia, what time? Nope. What else?”
He chances a quick glance at me as I grow more agitated by every passing second. My hands are balled into fists at my side and I take long breaths as I try to calm myself.
“Flight eight-hundred to Los Angeles at eleven o'clock.” His voices hitches, and he looks at the watch on his wrist before scribbling down the information. “Thank you.” He sets his phone down on the notebook.
“No one will tell us what flight she's on. I've checked with every airline and American is the only with a flight tonight that leaves in about forty minutes. That has to be the one she's on.”
I nod and swallow hard. “Good work, Kenneth,” I'm barely able to muster through my anger-ridden anxiety. Ronald weaves in and out of traffic, but with every stoplight we hit, my hope grows weaker at catching Kaylee before she leaves.
Kenneth taps out messages and makes hushed calls as I stare out the window as rain begins to fall. I count the beads of water that fall against the tinted window, losing count somewhere in the three hundreds.
My anger has turned to sadness, and my hope quickly dissolves as we enter the departures area of Heathrow airport. How Ronald weaves this beast of a car in and out of the traffic is beyond me, but he manages to get me right up to the American departures curb.