Page 35 of Fake it For Good
While he tapped out a couple of emails, I meandered around his office. It was just a little sad his office was bigger than my apartment. I checked out some of the awards displayed on a shelf. There were pictures of him with the mayor. He had apparently been given a key to the city. It was strange to think I had lived in the man’s orbit for what looked to be decades, but I had never heard of him. I knew the brand, but I knew nothing about the man behind the empire. Here was this fairly normal guy and yet, he was a powerhouse.
“Ready?” he asked.
“I am,” I said. “That’s a pretty exciting thing to get a key to the city.”
He snorted. “I have no idea what it was for. It’s not like it opened any doors. I think they give guys like me keys so we don’t feel like we’re getting completely shafted with the taxes we pay. Taxes and licenses and fee after fee. Ishouldhave a key to the city. I’m pretty sure I built that new park and the school across from it.”
It was probably true. That was the good thing about being poor—we didn’t have money to tax. I grabbed my small suitcase, only to have him take it from my hand. “I’ll get it,” he said.
“Thank you.” I looked around and realized he didn’t have a suitcase. “What about yours?”
“My assistant had my stuff put in the car already.”
Again, rich and powerful. He wouldn’t do things like carry his own suitcase. When we stepped outside, a black town car was double parked. “That’s us,” he said.
The driver quickly rushed around to take my suitcase. Cane opened the back door and gestured for me to get in. The experience was something out of a movie for me. I climbed in and waited with my hands in my lap. I had no idea how to act. Cane got in on the other side with the driver getting behind the wheel. I buckled up and sat back.
I expected to be heading to JFK. Instead, we pulled to a stop in front of a small airstrip. The white plane or jet or whatever the proper term was sat on the tarmac. A pilot wearing a white uniform stood outside talking with a woman in black pants and a white shirt. When they saw us, they both waved.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Carver,” the pilot said and shook his hand.
“Hello,” Cane replied. “Sorry to keep you guys waiting.”
“It’s no problem.” The pilot smiled and nodded at me.
“I’ll get your bags,” the woman said.
Ten minutes later, I was seated in a wide leather chair. The seat was very comfortable, which confused me because I always heard people complaining about the airplane chairs. My hands were holding tight to the armrests.
“Noelle?” Cane asked from across the aisle.
“Yes.”
“Are you okay?” he questioned.
“I’m fine.”
“Are you afraid of flying?” he asked gently.
I turned to look at him. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know if you’re afraid?” he asked with confusion.
“I’ve never been on a plane, so I don’t know if I’m afraid,” I explained.
He looked surprised. “You’ve never flown?”
“No.”
“Oh.” He sat for a few seconds before offering me a calm smile. “Takeoff and landing are a little uncomfortable, but once you’re in the air, it’s just like riding in a car.”
“I’m going to take your word for it,” I mumbled.
I sat perfectly still as the plane started to taxi down the runway. I held on, my heart pounding in my chest. I tried to lick my lips, but it was like running sandpaper across my mouth. I could feel a panic attack coming on. I wasn’t prone to panic attacks, but it had happened before.
“Hey,” I heard Cane say through the fog of my tunnel vision. I continued to stare straight ahead. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even blink.
Then I felt his hand on mine. He pulled it from the armrest and gently squeezed. The touch had a remarkable effect on me. My eyes dropped to where he was holding my hand. His thumb rubbed over the back of my hand.
