“I've never flown on a private plane before,” I tell Gill after our flight, the two of us comfortably seated in a dull gray rental car, some sedan named after a horse or a deer or … a bull, maybe? Yeah, I think it's a Taurus or something. “And I don't ever want to repeat the experience.”
Gill smiles at me, but he doesn't laugh. Once again, he's too absorbed in the execution of his brilliant beyond brilliant plan to pay me much attention. Honestly, it's all sort of starting to get to me: his sudden reappearance, his lack of emotion, his too tempting offer. All I need is a key, a code, and a clue, Regi, that's what Gill told me when he came waltzing into his father's apartment in the trendy Parisian arrondissement known as Le Marais.
The area reminds me in the best of ways of New York's SoHo neighborhood: trendy boutiques, haute cuisine, and lots of high-end vintage shopping. Also, like SoHo, it's way above my pay grade as a jewelry store sales associate. So, every morning before work, I'd diligently walk my ass over to my stepdad's place and enjoy the views of the courtyard and the bustling Rue Amelot.
That particular morning, Cliff and I were sitting at his kitchen table, cups of coffee clutched in our hands, reminiscing about the States, my mom, life in general. We were laughing so hard about our first few weeks in France all those years ago, about being whiny expats, about Cliff's still admittedly terrible French, that we didn't hear the front door open. Like an ethereal memory, Gilleon was suddenly just there, drifting across the polished wood floors like a ghost. Cliff's adopted daughter, Solène, shouted some horrible French curse words that even I didn't know and snatched my pepper spray out of my purse before I could remind her that the dark haired, blue-eyed bad ass standing in the doorway was her … brother. Well, as much her brother as he was mine, really.
I felt all kinds of things in that moment—fear, hope, anger, the dying embers of a once requited love—but Gill? Shit. From the look on his face, from the dull, familial hug he shrugged over my shoulders, he didn't feel anything for me. I mean, not that I cared. I've long since moved on, to be honest with you. As Solène is proving to me, preteens might well be capable of holding onto some serious grudges and unrequited passions, but as an adult, I just can't do it. Takes too much energy, gives too much pain, and offers absolutely zilch when it comes to the future. Still … I'll just be glad when this is all over, I have my payout, and Cliff, Solène and I are cozied up in some sweet Seattle digs. Gill'll leave again and things can go back to normal.
“I'm gonna call home,” I say, not even bothering to think about the massive international phone charges I'll be racking up. From this point on, I am officially rich. Yup. That's right. Loaded. Regina Corbair is now capable of buying a house in Mount Baker, a vintage car like the one in Supernatural—holy crap, Sam and Dean are hot—and adopting some ugly mixed breed dog of questionable parentage. A friend of mine once picked up a short-legged, half-hairless beast more akin to a rat than an actual pooch from a Native American reservation in California. She paid eight dollars for the creature and loves it like the kids she doesn't have. Considering the amount of green that Gill promises I'll be swimming in, maybe I'll fly down to Cali—first class, of course—search out the sister I haven't seen in years and camp out at her place on the reservation until I find the right canine companion. Hell, I don't even have to work anymore, so why not?
I smile and search around inside my purse. The expression only lasts so long as it takes me to realize that my phone is missing.
“Gill.”
“You didn't really think you'd get to keep the phone, did you?” he asks, again letting that low, deep rumble of a laugh seep into his words. This time, I'm ready; my shields are up and the sound doesn't so much as scrape across that barrier I erected so long ago.
“Guess I'll call them when I get to the hotel then,” I say, sitting back with a sigh, letting the patter of Seattle rain soothe my nerves. As much as I fell in love with Paris, I missed the hell out of the Pac Northwest. I can't explain why but something about it says home to me. Must be the dreary weather, cheers me up somehow. It's like, how can I be upset when the sky's already weeping for me?
“Unfortunately, you'll have to wait until they land to see them. Right now, phone calls are too risky.” I give Gill another show of my 'ugly face' and stifle the urge to say something mean. It's not his fault, really, just nerves. No matter what happens from this point on, I have to take responsibility for my own actions. Gill might've made the proposal, but I'm the one that went along with it.