‘Ugh,’ Bee groaned. ‘Really?’
Adam looked at her, earbuds in, a finger on the touchscreen. ‘What?’
‘Our lives have been a constant stream of senseless violence these last few days and you’re going to unwind with an action thriller?’
He glanced at the screen in the airplane seat in front of him and back at her. ‘It’s just a movie.’
‘But it’s also been our experience. Wouldn’t, like, the opposite be more relaxing? Like a musical or something.’
‘A musical, huh?’ He didn’t smile, but his face looked more delighted than confused now. ‘What would you recommend?’
Bee wasn’t exactly up on her theatrically released musicals. ‘Uh.’
‘Grease,’ Malika said. ‘Grease 2. That’s all I’ve got.’
‘I doubt they’ve got old movies on this thing,’ Adam said. ‘It’s a domestic flight.’
‘Why are you watching movies anyway?’ Malika swiped through apps on her phone. ‘Shouldn’t you be air marshalling?’
‘I’m not actually an air marshal.’
‘Malika’s right.’ Bee chose to ignore Adam’s facts. ‘I don’t want any plane-related incidences. We’ve already had a car incident and a motorcycle incident and a house incident. I’d like to survive this flight with only minimal turbulence and no one trying to kill me 30,000 feet in the air.’
Adam took the earbuds out and settled into his seat. ‘No one’s been trying to kill you.’ He clasped his hands behind his head. ‘Take you as a hostage and kill you later at a time more convenient for the Big Bad, yeah.’
‘Right well, that’s all.’ Bee bit her lip to keep from smiling too big.
‘Where’d you find that anyway?’ Adam waved his elbow, not unlike a chicken wing, at her drop-down table. ‘Steal it off a toddler in the airport?’
‘It’s an adult coloring book,’ she snarked. ‘I bought it at the airport. And as you can see, I’m staying in the lines.’
‘Good job.’ He grinned. ‘Is there anything you can’t do?’
Bee opened her mouth to reply, but Malika beat her to the punch with a rather accurate exclamation of, ‘Cook!’
Bee closed her mouth and nodded.
‘Sing.’ Malika fired off a list on her fingertips. ‘Though she keeps trying for some reason. She gave up on tennis super quick.’
‘I wanted to get into it, you know, for the cute outfits.’ She bumped Adam’s knee when she reached for a different coloring pencil. ‘But I never surpassed mediocre, and the coach I hired spent half the time talking about the script he was writing.’
‘Ooh, I remember that.’ Malika turned her attention back to her phone. ‘How many more movies do we need of a no-longer-violent man whose wife dies off-screen coming out of retirement to get revenge? That’s almost every dude movie ever made. I mean, talk about toxic masculinity.’
‘Toxic what?’ Adam asked. ‘What are you talking about? It does sound like a movie I’ve seen, but you never know, maybe he had a different take on it.’
Bee took a delicate sip of her soda. ‘He did not.’
‘Toxic masculinity is a belief in our culture that the most negative, harmful stereotypes about manliness are somehow part and parcel with the male gender,’ Malika ranted. ‘They’re unavoidable. They’re even desirable. It leads to problems with men being able to express their, let’s say, softer emotions without ridicule or judgment. It works against them in custody cases, even if the mother is unfit. Male victims of rape are often ignored or told hey, what’s the big deal? Etcetera, etcetera, dudes, dudes, dudes for all eternity. I’m bored now.’
Adam said, ‘Huh,’ and his whole face went blank.
‘Actually, you could be the poster boy for it, seeing as how you’re a balding man who’s paid to be violent—’
Adam scowled. ‘I am not balding. It’s called a widow’s peak.’
‘—but I’ve yet to see you brood, and you smile way too much.’ Malika put her earbuds in. ‘I’m going to watch pimple-popping videos now until we land, and I’d appreciate it if no one talked to me.’
Bee gagged. ‘Hide your screen.’
‘Where?’ Malika looked around. ‘Where would you like me to hide it? I’m jammed into the window seat.’
‘Pimple-popping videos?’ Adam leaned over Bee to get a better look at the phone. ‘Stuff like that is on the internet?’
‘Literally everything is on the internet,’ Malika said and played one.
Bee covered her mouth and closed her eyes. Her gut flopped around inside her like a dying fish.
Adam said, ‘There’s a whole boiled egg in that guy’s arm!’
‘Switch with me.’ Bee bopped Malika on the elbow. ‘Switch. Switch. Quick! Come on, come on.’
‘All right, all right, hold your horses.’ She unbuckled and rose. ‘It’s natural – you don’t have to be so crazy about it.’
Bee lifted the armrest and scooted beneath her. ‘You two have fun.’ She did her best to disappear into her coloring book.
Malika handed Adam one earbud, and the two of them sat close, heads together, watching all the horrible things that the inventor of the internet – thanks a lot, Al Gore – had unleashed on the world.
Bee grinned despite herself. She flipped to the back of the last page, folded it over so she could use the blank side and took out the black pencil.
Malika and Adam’s laughing profiles took the rest of the flight to sketch. She’d give it to Oliver as soon as she could. He’d love it.
Adam set his small suitcase down on the shiny white floor of baggage claim. ‘Don’t know why you had to check a bag,’ he said.
‘They weren’t gonna let me carry on my taser,’ said Malika. ‘There’s my bag now, so don’t get your panties all in a twist.’
Adam sighed. ‘You know, I’ve got sisters.’
‘That’s great,’ Malika said. ‘Can you take my bag?’
‘I’m not a pack mule.’
‘Yeah.’ She rolled the suitcase next to his feet. ‘You aren’t an air marshal either, and yet, here we are.’
He raised the handle, set his bag on top. ‘Two sisters.’ He held out his palm to Bee and smacked his fingers against it when she hesitated. Bee handed over her duffle bag. ‘Fraternal twins. Pain in the ass, both of them. You guys would all get along.’
Malika hummed. ‘You know I’m young enough to be your daughter, right?’
He wrinkled his sturdy nose. ‘What’s that got to do with anything?’
‘Excuse me, ma’am?’ A TSA agent approached Bee. He had a mustache that looked like he’d grown it as a homage to Hercule Poirot, and the pallor of someone who lived in Miami but was allergic to sunlight and beaches and fun. ‘Can I see your ID?’
Bee smiled easy. She glanced at her companions and pulled her wallet out of her purse. ‘Of course, but can I ask what for?’
Mustache Vampire checked over Claire Brown’s ID, looked at Bee’s face and back again. ‘You came up as someone matching the description of a— Well, it’s best if you come with me for a minute.’
‘Description of a what?’ Adam positioned half his body between her and the agent. ‘Go with you where?’
He gave Bee back the ID. ‘It’ll only be for a minute. There’s a small detention center—’
That caused both Adam and Malika to squawk in protest.
‘Detention center?’ Malika exclaimed. ‘You are out of your ever-loving mind if you think Claire needs to be detained!’
‘You don’t need to detain anybody,’ Adam said at the same time. He pulled out his badge. ‘I can vouch for Claire. She ain’t done nothing that needs detaining.’
Mustache Vampire offered them what he must have thought was a reassuring smile.
It wasn’t.
‘It’s fine. There’s plenty of magazines to read. It’ll only be for a minute while we make a few phone calls.’
‘Phone calls?’ Malika repeated like they were the vilest words ever uttered. ‘Oh, you won’t be the only one making phone calls, mister!’
‘It’s all right. Calm down.’ Bee rubbed Malika’s arm, caught Adam’s eye.
Them overreacting wasn’t doing her any favors.
‘It’ll be a minute.’ She arched an eyebrow. ‘I only need a minute. OK?’
‘Fine,’ Malika pouted.
Adam nodded. ‘We’re not going anywhere.’
‘I do apologize for the inconvenience, Miss Brown.’
Mustache Vampire didn’t sound sorry.
He led her to a small corner room that reminded Bee of a hospital waiting area. Uncomfortable chairs lined three walls, and random magazines were scattered every few feet. There wasn’t a door. But there was a lady TSA agent standing at the entrance with her hands on her belt. She was younger than thirty, Black and looked like she could use a cup of coffee.
‘Airport police say you match the description of someone who’s been coming in here and stealing luggage.’ Mustache Vampire gestured at the chairs.
Bee looked at them and didn’t sit. ‘I match the description of a luggage thief?’ She willed the muscle above her eyebrow not to twitch. ‘What a coincidence.’
‘I’m sure,’ he said. ‘But I need to make a few phone calls. Can I have your ID again actually? I’ll need to run it. I’m sure this is a simple misunderstanding. But I do have to be thorough.’
Bee dug out her ID and handed it over with a tight smile. ‘Of course.’
He left, and she sank down into an uncomfortable chair.
‘What a coincidence.’
The TSA agent left to guard her offered a sympathetic nod.
Bee picked up a fashion magazine. Between flipping pages, she observed her guard.
The woman’s top pulled at her chest, too small for her bosom. A single diamond ring hung from a gold chain around her neck.
Bee shared a look of surprise with the model in the mascara ad. She peeked over the magazine. The guard’s ring finger was ringless.
‘Hmm.’ She turned a page.
The guard’s shoes were sensible, but she shuffled on her feet and leaned against the wall, frowning.
She knew what she had to do, and she wasn’t proud of it. But Oliver was somewhere in this city, taken hostage by a gangster, and if she had to lie to and manipulate a pregnant woman to set up his rescue, then so be it.
Bee set the magazine down. She stretched her arms above her head and yawned. ‘It’s quiet in here.’
The agent nodded and closed her eyes.
Bee stood and walked across the room. She made a big show at the magazine rack, tapping her finger against her chin and clicking her tongue, before finally grabbing a Vogue.
She sat down across from the entrance. Bee flipped a page or two and counted to fifty in her head.
‘Oh!’ Bee gasped in surprise. ‘Did you see that?’
The TSA agent opened her eyes.
Bee covered her mouth. ‘A family walked by with a newborn baby.’ She hung her head and sucked in a shuddering breath. ‘Oh, I know I should be happy for them. But I feel like I’m being punished.’
She sobbed. Tears rolled down her cheeks, and she made no effort to wipe them away. ‘All I wanted to do was bring his ashes to the ocean. That’s all I wanted. Oh, my poor baby. My poor baby!’
The TSA agent sat down next to her. She took Bee’s hand in her own. ‘I am so, so sorry for your loss.’
Her crying came out more like a squeal. Snot ran from her nose, and she let it. ‘I was seven months. Seven months and— Oh God!’
Bee collapsed on to the agent’s shoulder. ‘He was perfect! My baby!’
The agent put an arm around Bee and squeezed her tight.
She let herself cry, good and long, before she sat up and sniffled. Bee used her whole palm to wipe her face clean. ‘My mom never got to meet him, you know? So we were going to go out on her boat. And say goodbye.’ She closed her eyes and blubbered.
The agent ooohed and squeezed Bee again. ‘That sounds like a sweet thing to do.’
‘But now they’re holding me in here. Like I’m a terrorist.’ Bee inhaled through her nose, loud and wet. ‘They’re saying I’m a luggage thief at this airport? I don’t even live here. I’m from New Jersey. How could I be stealing luggage from the Miami airport?’
The agent shrugged. ‘Sometimes computers get things wrong. I’m sure we’ll be able to sort this out and prove you’re innocent.’
‘I want …’ Her voice shook, and her eyes filled with tears yet again. ‘I want to get my baby’s ashes. And I want to be with my momma!’
The agent stroked her hair. ‘There, there. Would you like some water? Get hydrated. Maybe it’ll help you find some calm.’
‘Yeah.’ Bee pulled her quivering lips into a smile. ‘Water would be nice.’
She patted Bee’s hand and winked. ‘I’ll be right back.’
Adam and Malika were waiting for her outside the sliding doors of the airport.
‘I’m going straight to hell,’ Bee announced.
‘Why?’ Malika twisted her hair into a messy braid. ‘Whatcha do?’
‘I may have told a pregnant TSA agent that the reason I was here was to scatter my stillborn baby’s ashes in the ocean with my mother.’
Malika paused in mid wrap of her hair tie. ‘That’s dark.’ She blinked and remembered what she was doing. ‘Even for us, that’s dark.’
‘Hey.’ Adam hailed a cab. ‘It worked.’
He’d started to sweat in the Miami heat.
‘Little warm for ya?’ Malika teased.
He opened the trunk of the taxi and stuck their luggage inside. ‘If I take off my jacket, somebody’ll take me down. People don’t like seeing shoulder holsters at airports for some reason.’ He slammed the trunk shut and opened the car door for them. ‘Doesn’t change the fact that the sun has set and it’s still ninety degrees out.’
‘Well, Claire Brown is burned,’ Bee said before she slid inside the cab. Her brunette wig collected all the humidity in the air and caused condensation to form on her scalp. She pulled it off and held it in her lap. ‘We’re gonna have to figure something else out for lodging options.’
Adam sat in the passenger’s seat.
‘Where to?’ the driver asked him. He wore a golf hat and spoke with a thick Cuban accent.
Adam turned halfway in his chair to look at her.
She fiddled with the hair in her lap. ‘What’s the fanciest hotel around here with a super-nice bar?’
Malika held the compact open while Bee applied makeup.
‘I don’t understand why this is necessary,’ said Adam from the front seat.
Bee closed her red lipstick and tossed it into her purse. ‘Do you or do you not want to sleep in a bed tonight?’
He raised a shoulder. ‘Don’t matter to me.’
‘It matters to me,’ Malika said. ‘We need a home base with plenty of outlets and room service.’ She sniffed. ‘And you need a shower.’
He let out something between a groan and a chuckle.
Bee took off her leggings. Her dark blue tunic covered her bum and not much else. She pulled out a pair of six-inch pumps that were nude on top and red on the bottom.
Bee gasped in delight when she slid them on. ‘Oh, how I have missed you ladies!’
The taxi pulled into the drop-off of the Biltmore Hotel. The hotel looked as if the Big House from Percy Jackson had undergone refurbishment to be more Mediterranean. Grecian statues and fountains decorated every empty spot that wasn’t the massive golf course surrounding it on three sides.
‘Can you wait for us?’ Adam asked the driver. ‘What do you think – twenty minutes?’
Bee scoffed. ‘Ten.’
‘Twenty minutes,’ said Adam. He handed the driver a fifty-dollar bill. ‘Keep the meter running.’
‘Yes, sir.’
The three of them stood outside the lobby doors with bellboys and valets politely not looking their way. The hot air swayed the palm branches of trees above her head, filling her lungs with humidity when she breathed in deep.
Strange to be back in the place she called home without her son at her side. She missed him so much her body ached, but he didn’t need her worry or her tears or her pain. He needed her to do what she was best at.
‘I’ll be right back.’
Adam shook his head. ‘I don’t want you going in there alone.’
‘What?’ She grinned. ‘You wanna be the flirt?’ She tapped his chest as she walked by, an older gentleman opening the door for her. ‘See you in ten!’
She chose the more upscale restaurant option in the hotel (the Biltmore had six) and scanned the bar.
Few patrons sat underneath the warm lighting, sipping drinks. A man towards the end had a Scotch in his hand and several empty glasses in front of him. He was a white guy in his mid-forties, well dressed and bald.
Bee took the seat next to him.
She ordered a glass of rosé and caught his eye.
His gaze stuck on her chest.
She turned to give him a better view and smiled. ‘Hi.’
The same older gentlemen opened the door for her upon her triumphant return to the hotel’s motorcade.
Malika pulled out her phone. ‘Nine minutes. Nice.’
She and Adam gathered around Bee, the three of them forming a small circle, and she held out her palm to display her treasures away from prying eyes.
‘OK, I got his ID’ – Bee nudged it with her fingertip – ‘and I think he’s a great match for Adam.’
Adam took the card. ‘Are you kidding me? Look at this guy.’
Bee snatched it from his hand. ‘Don’t look too close.’
‘He’s got a solid fifty pounds on me!’
The game of hot potato continued when Malika took the ID from Bee. ‘He’s like your twin. He’s a white dude; you’re a white dude. He’s bald. You’re bald.’
‘I am not bald.’ He rubbed his hand on his head. ‘See? I’ve been growing it in. Give it time. It’ll come back.’
‘You lost some weight, OK?’ Bee rubbed his arm, up and down, her voice soft. ‘You started working out. You bought some Rogain. It’s a midlife crisis. That’s why you’re taking two girls to a nice hotel. I also have his credit card—’
‘Ooh, a black one!’ Malika took it too. ‘Those are my favorite.’
‘—and he had his wedding ring in his pocket.’ Bee held up the solid gold band between two fingers. ‘So I don’t feel so bad about taking his stuff.’
She still had one card left in her hand.
‘Why do you have a hotel key for this place?’ asked Malika.
‘Oh, he gave it to me.’ Bee tugged at the hem of her makeshift dress. ‘Yeah, he thinks my affections are negotiable. Anyway. Where’s our cab? Let’s go. I’m tired.’
Adam waved their taxi driver over, and the three of them piled back inside.
Bee said, ‘Take us to the Four Seasons please.’