New York.
Six days after Lenny got out.
1984.
Everyone turned to watch the giant walk through the airport. He was Godzilla, or King Kong—something freakish. Babu hated people staring at him. He hated navigating crowds, turnstiles, and doorways.
He just wanted a more normal life, but that was never on the cards for him. A man his size was always going to draw attention, and flare out just as quickly.
A few deeper male voices booed him as he walked with his head bowed. He wanted to see for himself that Lenny hadn’t made a mistake.
The date was right, and the time was right—Babu was meticulous about those things. Ricky had given in his notice, and wanted to come home. He knew that he had something simmering, with New York back in play.
He just wanted to be home. When Pan Am 747SP aircraft, flight number 801 arrived into JFK without Ricky onboard, alarm bells began to ring.
As much as Babu hated to be stared at, he still needed to check for himself. Ricky didn’t miss flights—not if he could help it.
Maybe they had missed him somewhere along the way. When Babu saw that the gate was empty, and that everyone was long gone, he thought that Ricky might have been at the van waiting for him. Eventually Babu returned to find that he wasn’t. This was more than a no-show. Ricky’s lack of appearance was a sign to everyone else that New York was truly there to be taken, now. Babu couldn’t help but feel like it was all his fault, and he needed to know if stringing Joe along had gotten his friend hurt—or worse.