FRIDAY, 2:30 P.M., AUGUST 2, 2001
She stood, tapping her foot as she waited for the plane.
Planes had always frightened her. They had killed her parents. One mistake, and that whole plane had gone right into the ocean. No survivors. If she thought about it much, she could even hear the screams as people must have beckoned to the skies for mercy.
Orphaned at just four, and no living relatives, Bobbie had taken her in and cared for her. It was just by accident when she was seventeen that she had discovered about his embezzlements.
Not wanting his cover blown, Bobbie had offered her a job in his secret business, with pay of course. Now she was an official dealer in the company, which meant that she got twenty percent of all transactions made, and that was a lot of money.
She sighed, pondering over it now. No use crying over spilled milk, no matter how big the puddle.
She was wearing a navy blue business suit with sunglasses covering her eyes and her hair was pulled back into a bun. She was always so stylish and Bobbie had spoiled her as a kid, since his wife left him a long time ago and they never had any.
Her flight was called and she walked at a brisk pace to the terminal. On the way, she bumped into someone.
He was cute, kind of, but not her type. “Sorry,” he said, brushing past.
“Sorry,” she echoed. She looked down at her hands and the wallet that she had just pick pocketed from him. She checked inside. Two hundred dollars. Cool.
She reached the gates and went inside.
Her ticket was first class, so she didn’t worry about comfort. Bobbie always took care of her.
The waitress offered her a drink, but she declined. Jet lag was bad enough these days and she didn’t need it any worse thanks to an alcoholic beverage.
Gosh, everything happened so fast. Wasn’t it just this morning that she had ruined a perfectly good, easy money transaction? Wait, it had been that morning. She groaned. Life sucked.
She occupied her time with studying the passengers. A man boarded the plane last and was looking around for an empty seat.
Now there was a cute one. He had blue eyes that resembled ice, brown hair neatly styled with lots of hair gel, and some nice muscles. He was wearing khakis and a gray tank top with a black leather jacket. Seeing no other seat, he sat down beside her.
She ignored him and searched through her carry-on bag for something to do.
“Hey,” the guy said.
“Hey.” She went back to her bag.
“My name’s Josh, but friends call me J.C.,” he went on, obviously trying to spark up some conversation.
“Well, Josh, I’m not your friend and don’t intend on being one.”
Josh was surprised at her attitude. “Do you have a name?”
“My name’s--” She stopped to think. She couldn’t tell him her real name. What if he had associations with Jive? “Ashley Duvall.”
“Hello, Ashley. Why are you flying to Orlando?”
“Business,” she said flatly.
He didn’t notice her tone of voice. “Same here."
Ashley, she thought, perfect. That’s your name now. That’s your new identity. Get used to it.
How could she have seen the strange person taking pictures of her from the waitressing area?