“Sorry, so sorry, I was just trying to get . . . his! His attention!” I jumped up and down again, pointing to Lucas on the other side of the glass partition. I could see him, he could see me, but there was an entire line of people, the X-ray machine, and the TSA staff between us. “Sorry, I just have to tell him that I . . . That I . . .”
The agent frowned at me. “Ma’am, do you have an airline ticket?”
“No, I’m not going anywhere. I just need to tell him—”
“Ma’am, then you can’t be down here,” she said, starting to turn me around. Her walkie-talkie went off, and she said into it, “I’ve got it. She just wants to talk to some dude who already went through. Nope, it’s under control.” She looked back at me. “Ma’am, do you have any idea what you did?”
“Yes, I cut ahead of some people in line. I know it was rude of me—”
“You cut ahead of some people in line at an airport. You came running at the security entrance, screaming your head off, at an airport. You looked like you were going to try to crash through a federal security checkpoint at an airport,” she said, her tone getting more and more serious. “It wasn’t rude—it was incredibly stupid.”
“Oh my God,” I moaned.
Lucas, standing there with a “what the fudge” look on his face, called, “Are you okay?”
“I think so?” I called back, then turned to the TSA agent. I snuck a quick peek at her name tag. Standing tall, shoulders squared, one foot posed slightly in front of the other, I gave her my best smile. “Monica—can I call you Monica?”
“Where is this going?” she asked, looking at me like I was a little crazy.
I couldn’t blame her, but pressed on. “Monica, I’d like to thank you for your service to our fine country. It makes my heart proud to see such a strong female protecting our airports, here in the great state of California and around our nation. As a former Miss Golden State, and a lifetime resident of California, I’ve had the great privilege of visiting all parts of our beautiful state, often by air travel. And every time I have, I’m always so grateful for the tireless work that you, and all of your highly trained and competent coworkers, do every day to keep us safe. So, thanks for the warning, and let’s keep California and America flying high,” I finished, beaming at her.
Several of the other TSA agents had leaned in to listen as well, and I shared my winning smile with them all.
“Sweetie, you feeling okay?” she asked, patting me on the shoulder.
“Truth?” I asked, still smiling.
“Oh, I think you’d better.”
“See that guy, the redheaded dude?” I pointed.
“Louis?”
“Well, Lucas, but yes.”
“Uh-huh?”
“I finally slept with him two nights ago, and I really messed things up, and I just adore him and he’s leaving for Belize for twelve weeks, and I told him something that really hurt him, and I just can’t let him leave without telling him something else: that I actually lo— And, well . . . that’s when you stopped me with your wand.”
“Uh-huh.” She nodded, looking me over carefully, then said into her walkie-talkie that she was escorting someone to checkpoint C.
I looked at her warily. “Is that bad? Is checkpoint C where you take—”
“Just walk with me, sweetie,” she said, rolling her eyes.
We approached the glass wall, Lucas following on his side, still looking confused, and we walked along the edge until we came to the baggage claim area—where people could walk out, but not in.
There was another agent sitting there, and she stood up when we walked over.
“Stephanie, why don’t you take your break,” my agent said. “I’ve got this for a while.”
The other agent nodded and ambled off.
Settling herself behind the podium, Monica spotted Lucas waiting on the other side, backpack in hand, looking very worried.
“Hey, Louis! C’mere! Your girl wants to talk to you,” she shouted, waving him over.
When he arrived, she said, “Okay, Louis, this girl wants to talk to you bad enough she almost committed a federal crime to do it. Although now that I get a look at you, I can almost understand,” she said, appraising him. Turning to me, she said, “What’s your name, sweetie?”
“Chloe. Chloe Patterson.”
“Uh-huh. I’ll remember that. Okay, Chloe Patterson. Hit it.”
I started to walk forward, and she raised her hand. “Don’t make me get my mace out. Without a boarding pass, you can’t go past this line.” She pointed to the red line on the linoleum floor.
“Chloe, what the hell’s going on?” Lucas asked.
I walked up to the line, keeping my toes just on it, and when my TSA agent nodded, I took a deep breath.
“I’m so sorry to do this right before your trip. And I’m so sorry to have been such an idiot the other morning, after we . . . well . . . after that amazing night.”
“Chloe, I—”
“No no, let me say this.”
“Let her say this, Louis,” Monica said.
We both looked sideways at her, then I pressed on. “I don’t want to be your rebound.”
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding—”