Shit! There were at least six cars ahead of us. As we waited in line for the vehicles in front of us to leave, there was a loud rapping on the passenger door window. Jaime! Thank goodness the door was locked. My heart was in a frenzy, and tears stabbed at my eyes.
“Open up!” He pounded against the glass with his fist, and with his other hand, tried to yank open the door. His voice boomed through the tinted glass. I looked away.
“Don’t touch the door,” I barked at a baffled Kevin.
“Glorious, what’s going—”
I cut him off. “I’ll explain everything as soon as we get out of here.”
He shot me a perplexed look.
Jaime was persistent. He pounded with such ferocity I thought his fist might break through the glass. “Roll down the window, Gloria. I need to talk to you.”
I shot him an icy glare, facing him just long enough to let him see a tear escape my eyes.
“Gloria!” he shouted again.
I turned my head away and bit my lip, battling more tears. Finally, the car started to move. Jaime stayed with it. Damn him! Was he going to run down Park Avenue with us?
“Nigel, step on it!” I ordered.
“Yes, ma’am.” He floored the gas pedal, leaving Jaime behind after one final, frustrated thrust of his fist on the glass pane. I heard him curse as we zoomed off. In no time, we were cruising down the wide city street. I spun my head around and could see Jaime still standing motionless on the corner of Fifty-Ninth and Park.
A golf-ball-sized lump swelled in my throat. Tears, I’d been holding back, streamed down my cheeks.
“Glorious, what’s wrong?” asked Kevin, brushing them away.
“Everything. Fucking everything.”
By the time we arrived at Teterboro, the nearby New Jersey airport that catered to corporate jets and private celebrity planes, I’d spilled everything to Kevin. He had listened intently, only stopping me with a question or two. Few things shocked Kevin; today’s events were among them.
“Shit! This is fucked. Maybe we should move forward with a different agency. We haven’t signed a contract.”
That wasn’t an option. The ZAP! pitch was perfect. It would take weeks, maybe months to find another agency that could come up with a campaign that was as good—if that was even possible. And in the retail business, the longer you waited, the more likely your competition would jump in ahead of you.
“Listen, Glorious. He’s on the East Coast; you’re on the West. There’s three thousand plus miles between the two of you. You never have to physically see him again. Everything can be done through e-mails and an occasional Skype. If someone has to oversee the shoot from our side, I can do that.”
I sighed with relief. Kevin was my problem solver. He always had been and always would be. I gave him a hug. I loved him to pieces. We would always be there for each other.
“What about Vivien?” I asked.
“Don’t worry about the little minx. I’ll handle her.”
By the time we arrived at the airport, I was feeling much better. Except for better and for worse, I couldn’t get Jaime Zander out of my head.
I braced myself for takeoff. The Gloria’s Secret corporate jet was next in line. My stomach bubbled with nerves. I squeezed Kevin’s hand. I was petrified of flying, especially takeoffs and landings. Flying made me feel so out of control. My life was totally in the hands of others. The pilot’s. And God’s. Unfortunately, I spent a good part of my life up in the air, traveling frequently for business meetings around the world. You would think the more I flew, the easier it would get, but it didn’t work that way.
Once the plane was up in the air and cruising smoothly, my pulse rate calmed down, and the butterflies in my stomach disappeared. A glass of chilled Chardonnay, served by one of the flight attendants, further relaxed me. By the time I finished it, I was sleepy and shifted my roomy pink leather chair into a reclining position.
“Wake me, when we land in LA,” I told Kevin who was watching an episode of Queer as Folk on his iPad.
“Sure.” He gave me a light peck on my cheek.
I closed my eyes, willing my mind to let go of Jaime Zander. The ache in my heart, however, lingered until sleep took over.
Six hours later, an announcement from our captain awakened me with a startle. It was time to return our chairs to an upright position as we were beginning our descent into Los Angeles. Kevin had dozed off too. We simultaneously lifted our chairs.
“Home sweet home,” sighed Kevin, who loved sunny Los Angeles as much as I did. It was almost midnight on the West Coast. I gazed out the window at the myriad of twinkling lights below and smiled. Neither of us had known when we’d fled to the City of Angels how much we would fall in love with the sun-kissed weather, the Pacific Ocean, the Spanish architecture, and the colorful, multi-ethnic neighborhoods.
As the plane swooped down, my fear of flying once again took hold of me. My stomach fluttered and my chest tightened. Gripping my hand, Kevin comforted me. “Hold on, Glorious. We’re almost there.”