Unseen Messages(3)

I’d made it doing something I loved. Weren’t you supposed to scrimp and slave in a job you hated to save up as much as I’d made in the past year?

Either way, I wouldn’t waste a penny. Economy class was good enough for me—just like it had been for the past twenty-five years of my life.

Tapping on his keyboard, Mark, according to his nametag, said, “Your bag will go all the way through to Sydney, so you don’t have to worry about it in Fiji.”

“Great. That’s good to know.”

He focused on his computer screen. His smile slowly morphed into confusion. “Eh, are you sure you have the right day?”

“Yes.” Nerves quivered in my belly. “I’m one of those people who has to check a bazillion times. I even woke up three times last night to make sure I read the time as a.m. and not p.m. I’m very sure.”

He looked up. “You don’t have a reservation, I’m afraid.”

“What?”

He pointed at the screen I couldn’t see. “It says here your ticket was cancelled.”

“No.” I squashed down the panic. So close. I’m so close to home. This couldn’t happen. I wouldn’t let it happen. “That can’t be true.” Fossicking in my handbag for my cell-phone, I trembled as I tried to find the email of my itinerary. “I have proof. I’ll find what my travel agent sent through.”

Damn Madeline. If she’d somehow done this, she was in huge trouble.

I was idiotic to blame a friend I would never see again.

I should’ve listened.

This was the first message.

Mark returned to checking the screen while I scrolled through my emails. Stupid Gmail had archived the file and I couldn’t find it.

“Did you have a delay coming here? Did you miss your flight?”

“Ah, yes!” Relief flooded. “My connecting flight was late. I missed the leg to New York and had to wait twenty-four hours before the next service.” I moved closer to the desk, trying to refrain from seeming desperate. “But that was the airline’s fault, not mine. They assured me the rest of my ticket was unaffected.”

“That’s fine.” Mark pursed his lips. “And that’s true, normally. I just can’t find a ticket number.” Chewing the inside of his cheek, he mumbled, “Don’t worry. Give me five minutes and I’ll build you a new booking then reissue your ticket.”

I sighed, wanting to puddle to the floor and magically teleport myself home. I didn’t have the strength to go through the highs and lows of travel. I was done. Empty.

My shoulders rolled. “Okay.”

There was nothing I could do.

I stood there and waited as Mark fixed Message Number One.

I should’ve paid attention.

I should’ve walked right out the doors and hailed the nearest cab back to downtown Hollywood.

But I didn’t.

.............................

“I’m sorry, ma’am.”

A male’s hand shot out, preventing me from moving forward.

I blanched, slamming to a halt. “Excuse me?”

Now, what have I done?

His eyes narrowed in reproof. “The body scanner picked up metal objects on your person. You’ll be required to undergo a pat-down in a private room with a female officer. Do you consent?”

All around me, other passengers shoved and bumped, grabbing items from the X-ray belt and rushing to their chosen destinations.

I envied them.

“But...I don’t have anything to declare.”

The dark-haired officer cocked his head at the screen showing a few large splodges on a stick figure that I assumed was me. “The scanner has highlighted a few areas of concern.”

A furl of unease nudged its way into being.

First, the missing booking and now, security.

Can’t I just get on the plane without talking to anyone else?

I’d hoped once Mark handed over my reissued boarding pass and wished me a pleasant flight that my problems were over.

Desperate to just be left alone, I lifted up my pink jumper, revealing a black tank with glittering diamantes on the chest. “I should’ve thought before dressing in this to travel. I think those set it off.”

The officer cleared his throat, doing his best not to look at my boobs. “That may be the case, but there are multiple points to check.”

I glanced at the image. More black spots on my ankles and wrists.

“Ah, it’s my jewellery and the zips in my jeans.” Shoving back my sleeves, I revealed three bracelets on each wrist. All gold on my left and all silver on my right. Then pointed at the zippers in my skinny jeans at my ankles. “See?”

“I’m sorry. We’ll still need to do a pat down.”

“Are you sure—”

“Are you refusing to undergo the requirement to travel?” The agent crossed his arms, his biceps straining against the dark material of his uniform.

There was nothing I could do.

“No.” My voice turned weary. “I consent.”

A female officer came forward, waving me to follow her. “Come with me. We’ll get you sorted.”

Message Number Two went unheeded.

.............................

NOT PERMITTED TO TRAVEL.