“YOU can’t make this thing roll?” Max asked the hired pilot, whose name was Brandon. “Or do a loop? Or plunge?”
Max had expected the private plane to feel like a Starfighter, but it was closer to a giant, noisy tuna can. Which got really old when you were going all the way across the Atlantic.
Brandon glanced over his shoulder at Max and smiled. “Actually, I can do all of those things.”
“But you won’t,” Alex piped up, gripping the pilot’s arm. “Because you do not want to scare the person who hired you.”
The reason she could grip his arm was because she was sitting in the copilot seat. This made no sense to Max. For one thing, there was a perfectly nice seat next to him and behind Brandon. For another, Alex didn’t know the first thing about copiloting.
So Max sat behind them all alone, in a navy blue suit that felt like a blanket of invisible mosquitoes. He and Alex had gotten lots of cash at the bank before leaving. He had a wad of Euros the size of a small animal in his pocket. All of which made it hard to concentrate on reading Around the World in 80 Days.
“Liking the book?” Alex asked.
“The best,” Max said. “Fogg is awesome. So is the suspense. But when they’re in India, they ride elephants. They shouldn’t have been doing that. It’s painful for the elephants.”
“They’re cheap to feed, though,” Brandon said. “Wait for it . . . It only costs peanuts!”
He cracked up at his own joke.
“Will you tell him to stop talking?” Max grumbled. “He’s not funny.”
“Does he mean me?” Brandon said.
Alex’s face turned red. As she touched Brandon the Pilot’s arm, the plane jolted. Max’s book slipped off his lap onto the floor and slid across the cabin.
Alex gasped and tightened her grip on Brandon’s arm. “What’s happening?”
“Just a little turbulence as we descend to our final destination,” said Brandon.
“That’s a little?” Alex asked.
“I’m smelling fish!” Max cried out.
“Excuse me?” Brandon said.
“He smells fish when he’s afraid,” Alex explained.
“What?”
“Synesthesia,” Max said. “Where you associate smells with emotions. I was born with it. Like you were born with an abnormal body temperature.”
Alex’s face was turning red. “Max, don’t go there—”
“I don’t understand,” Brandon said.
“Alex said we had to hire you because you were hot,” Max said.
Alex groaned, shrinking into her seat. “Where’s the Ejector button?”
“You said that?” Brandon asked.
“No!” Alex said. “I mean, yes. No!”
Brandon’s eyes were focused ahead, but he couldn’t hide a big smile. “Don’t worry, we’re coming out of that weather pattern pretty quickly, guys. It’ll be clear sailing from here on in.”
Max could swear he heard Alex say, “That’s what you think.” But he wasn’t sure.
Outside the windshield, the clouds were breaking, and Max could see an airport emerging in the distance. Brandon and Alex were silent the rest of the way.
A line of stretch limos waited just beyond the tarmac at Heathrow Airport. But only one was pink.
Alex paused as she emerged from the plane. “Don’t tell me . . .”
“This was the only color on the drop-down list that wasn’t boring black,” Max said, starting down the ladder. “I call the copilot seat this time! Last one there is a rotten egg.”
As he got close, a craggy-faced limo driver in a crisp gray uniform shook his head and pulled open the rear door. “No copilots, laddie. Driver in front, celebrities in back. Rules of the game.”
Max veered to the left and got in. He expected Alex to be close behind, but she was still chatting with Brandon at the base of the ladder. He was fishing a business card out of his pocket.
“We’re late!” Max called out.
Alex took the card, ran to the limo, and slid in next to Max. “Sorry. I needed to get his contact info for the return trip.”
“You didn’t kiss him,” Max said, waggling his eyebrows.
Alex slammed the door shut. “Stop it. I thought you didn’t understand sarcasm.”
“It’s not sarcasm,” Max said. “It’s teasing.”
“And that’s better?”
As the car sped toward the Heathrow exit, Max and Alex belted themselves in. “Not to put any pressure on,” the driver called over his shoulder, “but according to my schedule, the event begins about now. Just sayin’. So when you’re late, you won’t blame old Gerrold, eh? Heh heh.”
Max was firing up his GPS app, watching as it calculated the fastest route. “At this hour, we’ll get there faster if we take the neighborhood streets.”
Gerrold let out a big guffaw. “In a pink car? We will attract a lot of attention.”
“We’re used to it,” Max said.
“Turn left now . . .” chirped the app.
The car exited the airport and shot out onto the left side of a London street. “You’re driving on the wrong side of the road!” Max shouted.
“Here in England, driving on the left is right—ha! See what I did there?” Gerrold said.
The streets quickly became narrower. Brick buildings crowded either side, all jammed together. Through the car windows wafted some amazing smells, some sharp and some sweet. Alex breathed deeply. “Yummm.”
“Coriander, masala sauce, curry,” Gerrold said. “That is the hazard of these streets. They make you hungry!”
A pair of smiling kids ran after the car, asking for a ride. A sage, old woman paused during a very slow walk, eyeing the car and applauding. Shopkeepers came out of their front doors. People waved from windows. Gerrold waved back. “Ha! This limo is doing wonders for my popularity! Isn’t this fun?”
But Max’s eye was on his watch, which was clicking past 11:00. “The service has already started!”
“I’m a driver, not a miracle worker,” Gerrold replied. “Hang on, we’re very close.”
“At the next corner, turn right,” the app said.
Gerrold sped up to make a yellow light. A stocky brick building blocked the view to the right of the intersection. The tires squealed as they lurched through the light and veered right.
The intersection was empty. But just beyond it, a figure moved across the street, a phone pressed to his ear. Not walking exactly but dancing, his shoulders swaying, his feet tracing out a complicated little pattern. As if there were no traffic for miles.
“Blimey . . .” Gerrold said. “Crazy old sod!”
He slammed on the brakes. The car slid. Alex and Max lurched forward, screaming. The seatbelt pressed against Max’s chest.
Max let out a scream, and the old guy spun around. His face loomed closer through the windshield, his eyes wide with shock.
Well, one of the eyes was wide.
The other drooped.