The Perfect Girlfriend(43)
I escape.
Late afternoon heat hits me, but it is strangely sobering and my head clears.
Deep breaths. Faint dread forms a hollow in my stomach.
As I approach the crew bus, I keep my eyes down. I wait my turn, whilst the driver heaves the bags into the trailer attached to the rear. I can see that the three flight-crew bags are already loaded. I stand, rooted to the spot, trying to work out the best time to board.
Generally, the first officers tend to gather near the front rows, as it is a courtesy to leave the first seat free for the captain. In all likelihood, I can’t avoid walking past him. I wait until the last few crew trickle out of the airport building before I step on to the bus.
I catch Nate’s eye immediately. I smile and say, ‘Hi,’ as though we saw each other only recently, and continue walking towards the back without waiting to see if he returns my greeting. I sink down next to Alex, one of the guys I’ve been working with in economy. He is wearing reading glasses and is busy looking down at his phone, but I engage him in conversation, regardless. I need a social prop.
‘What are your plans?’
Alex looks up, peers through his glasses and shrugs. ‘Not sure yet. Gym. Pool. Meet up in the bar. The usual.’
‘It’s my first time here. Any suggestions?’
He smiles. ‘Loads. If you meet up for drinks later, I’ll take you to this incredible club afterwards. We can see if any of the others are up for it, because we’ll need to book tickets. Or you could take in a show, but they can be really expensive.’
‘Thanks.’
He looks back down at his phone.
I take mine out too, but not before sneaking a quick glance at Nate. He is looking ahead and is not in conversation with anyone.
The journey is brief – too brief – and I swallow hard as I step down off the bus. But I keep focused and retrieve my wheelie bag as the porters hurriedly load the suitcases on to the trolleys, in an obvious attempt to keep the porte cochère clear. I hang back, remaining on the outskirts of reception and pretending to deal with a phone message, as the flight crew and the supervisor sign for their rooms. Tourists wearing holiday uniforms of T-shirts decorated with random slogans navigate the lobby area alongside more formally dressed business people and uniformed hotel staff. I feel as though Nate’s eyes are upon me, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to check.
Alex walks over to give me his room number and a few others gather round whilst we make plans to meet in the bar at six local time tomorrow.
‘I’ll need to book tickets for the club in advance. I’ve just looked it up and the DJ is marketed as “the next big thing”’ – he mimes quote marks in the air – ‘so it will be a really popular night.’
‘I’ll buy two tickets,’ I say. ‘A friend of mine is operating the flight due in tomorrow.’
That way, I’ll have a spare one for Nate if I can persuade him to come along. As I step forward to receive my room key, I take a quick look around. My stomach sinks in disappointment – I am the last crew member left in the reception area.
Nate has scarpered.
‘Please can I take out two hundred dollars on my crew account?’ I ask the receptionist.
I was so busy preparing for the trip that I forgot about the mundane practical things, like exchanging money at a decent rate.
‘Of course.’
She counts it out for me and places it inside an envelope, handing it over with a friendly smile.
I head for the lifts and press the up arrow, still half-expecting Nate to appear.
Seconds after entering my room, there is a sharp rap at the door. I fling it open. A porter.
‘Suitcase for Ms Price,’ he says, walking past me. With one hand, he lifts and unfolds the portable luggage stand, then places my suitcase on top.
I slide my purse out of my bag and hand over a couple of dollar bills. ‘Thanks.’
‘You’re welcome. Have a great stay.’
I walk over to the window, pull apart the net curtains and lean my forehead against the glass. This hotel is set back from the strip and my room is situated at the rear. Below is a mass of buildings, streets, signs – a normal-looking city. I stifle a yawn, even though I feel too wired to give in to proper tiredness. Instead, I feel detached and dream-like. I turn round and set about half-heartedly unpacking.
My suitcase is unusually full. Normally, I travel out with an empty one and return with it crammed. I take care hanging up my outfits, especially my dresses. I hold one particular one up against me and stare at myself in the mirror, hoping that I still love it and that it doesn’t look different here. I smile. It’s still perfect. It has a silk lining covered in plain lace and is cornflower blue, slightly above the knee. It cost more than I have ever spent on one outfit. I love it. The scooped neckline is low, so I can accessorize with a simple necklace.
I decide on a shower to properly shake myself into alertness. Once I feel refreshed, I will consider the best way to approach Nate. He will probably stay up until later this evening, seeing as he is a stickler for ‘keeping to local time’. From conversations with other crew, I know that many people feel the same. Personally, I don’t see the point. I don’t mind being up in the night or early morning, I can always find ways to occupy myself.
I step into the bath, pull the opaque curtain across and fiddle with the shower controls. It’s a recently acquired life skill, figuring out how to get the temperature right in hotels around the world as they vary from scorching to freezing. As I shampoo my hair to remove the sticky hairspray and the stench of the aircraft galley, I try to reframe Nate’s earlier non-reaction into a more positive one. The loud, old-fashioned ring of the hotel bathroom phone jolts me out of my thoughts. I reach out through the gap between the wall and the shower curtain and pull the receiver off the wall, holding my arm and head away from the spray of water. Shampoo stings my eyes as I squeeze them shut.