Michael couldn’t do this alone, you get that, right, Jessica? He was already making a huge mess of everything. We look out for each other. So, yeah, I stuck it to Dr. Rose. Borrowed some things. I mean, she gave me her keys. I always knew those two were hiding something from us. And he didn’t sound good. Not at all. You wouldn’t abandon your brother, right? When he was hurting? I couldn’t either.
I hung up with Michael, forced a smile on my face, and turned back to Roy, the twenty-something guy manning the airport’s Sharper Image counter who had taken the opportunity to stare at my legs. I had to admit, they were looking nice in my new Tahari sundress and Christian Louboutin heels.
“Sounded intense,” he said, remembering where my face was. “Boyfriend?”
Subtle. “Brother.”
He nodded slowly. “I’ve got a little sister; she can be a pain too. If you’d like to talk about it, I’m off at midnight.”
We were standing in the far back corner of the store, beyond the massaging chairs and travel cases that looked strong enough to take a bullet. I watched as he unlocked the glass cabinet and removed a small box. He handed it to me. “This is the only cassette player we still carry. It’s meant to plug into a computer so you can convert tapes to digital. There’s a cheap pair of headphones in the box—they’re okay for voice stuff. I’ve got better ones if you’re planning on listening to music.”
“Just listening to some lectures.”
“Thought maybe your boyfriend went old school and made you a mixtape.” He grinned.
My legs must have looked even better than I’d thought. I returned the grin. No reason to be rude—he was kinda cute.
I followed him back to the counter, watched him ring me up. “That’s thirty-one dollars and twenty-two cents.”
I pulled a credit card from my new purse, accidentally dropping a checkbook in the process.
Roy picked it up and glanced at it before giving it back to me. “Dr. Rose Fitzgerald?” His eyes narrowed mischievously as he took the credit card—also in the name of Rose Fitzgerald—and ran it through the machine. “You look a little young to be a doctor. Mind if I see your ID?”
“I’m a bit of an overachiever, I suppose.” I handed him my driver’s license.
“‘Megan Rose Fitzgerald,’” he read aloud. “That’s a beautiful name.” He gave the license and the credit card back to me. “Beautiful name for a beautiful girl. I don’t suppose you’d like to get coffee sometime?”
I smiled, tilted my head. “If you upgrade my headphones, I’ll give it some serious thought, Roy.”
Five minutes later, I was in a seat at gate 11, reading the instructions for my new cassette player and the pair of Bose noise-canceling headphones Roy had slipped into my bag. Considering it was nearly midnight, the terminal was pretty crowded. I had my backpack on the seat to my right and Michael’s file spread out on the seat to my left.
I’d gotten to the airport at about half past ten and left Dr. Rose’s Mercedes in a handicapped-only spot on the top floor of the parking garage with the keys in the ignition. Fuck her.
Once inside the airport, I began hitting the ATMs. I withdrew the maximum amount of cash I could from each of Dr. Rose’s credit and debit cards, thirty-three hundred dollars in total. Who uses her own birthday for a PIN code? Double fuck her.
From there, I purchased a one-way ticket to Flagstaff with cash. This set me back two hundred eighty-three dollars and fifteen cents. The cops could probably still trace me if they wanted to, but I figured using cash would slow them down a bit. I knew Michael would meet me; I didn’t plan to give him a choice.
Ticket in hand, with nearly an hour before my flight, I hit the shops. I got a nice Tumi bag from Luggage Etc.; jeans, blouses, and undergarments from Airport Express; several dresses (including the one Roy admired), shoes, and a watch from Montauges. Each time someone rang up the card, I expected a problem—some kind of security flag—but that didn’t happen. Dr. Rose routinely shopped at airports; I suppose that was enough to prevent a security alert. Triple fuck her.
By the time I heard my flight called over the loudspeaker, I had read most of Michael’s file.
Fragile. Dr. Bart had used that word more than once.
Some parts were more horrifying than I’d expected. I thought Michael had told me everything.
When boarding started, I shoved the papers into my backpack. I kept the three cassette tapes that had been in there along with my new tape player and headphones—I’d listen to those on the trip.
As I followed the line of passengers to the plane, I blew a kiss in Roy’s general direction. Maybe I’d thank him when I got back, maybe not. I was sure he’d be there waiting for me either way.