13. February 15th

FEbrUARY 15TH

Waters

Pullingup to her house the next morning, he perused the street and noticed its isolation at this hour of the morning, so early that it was still dark. Getting out of the truck, he saw Kubrick exiting her front door with a duffle bag and her Backpack of Death. He jogged up the walk as she was locking the door. "Good morning, Sunshine!"

She scowled at him.

He looked at her two bags. "This is it?"

She blinked at him grumpily. "I travel light. Leggings and a few shirts don't take up a lot of room. Don't need boots where I'm going, so two pairs of running shoes, a light jacket, a hoodie, and my Dodgers hat. Add bug repellant, sunscreen, deodorant, body wash, toothbrush, toothpaste, and a brush; what else would I need? Plus, it's not like I'm going out clubbing while in Roatán."

Clubbing? Ugh. Did not need that image in my head. I'd be beating up guys left and right.

He cleared his throat. "Just figured you'd have a lot more bags since you'll be gone for almost three months." He looked at the duffle bag. "No designer luggage?"

She rolled her eyes. "Not my style. Not a big designer girl. Shit just gets damaged, and then it costs thousands to replace. Swiss Army"—she patted her backpack—"works just fine."

He shook his head as he grabbed her bags. "You sure don't fit the Hollywood mode, Kubrick."

"Nope. And damn glad. Way too fake." She yawned. "Way too damn early for this bullshit."

He opened the passenger side door for her. "C'mon, Cranky. Hop in." She flipped him off, to which he responded with a big grin of amusement. "There's a present for you in the truck," he offered, as if he were trying to lure her into the vehicle.

Opening his own door, he placed her bags behind his seat. When he slid in, he saw her looking at the extra-large thermal coffee cup in the holder of her seat like it was a mirage. "Two days in a row? I might get ideas."

"Seriously? Just drink it, Kubrick."

She sighed in resignation and popped the lid. "Is this from Alice's?"

"Not only is it from Alice's, but it's three of them. She saw me pull up and let me in to get it for you. I told her you needed your Crankiness Bomb, nuclear style. Thought she was going to hurt herself from laughing. Said that she was going to put them on the new menu with that size name just for you. So start drinking. Can't have you tongue-lashing the crew and other passengers with your awful morning personality."

Her tongue pushed through her lips at him, eyes scrunching up.

Staring at her lips, he huskily reminded her, "Rule six."

He swore she lost color at his words.

That'll shut her up.

He watched her out of the corner of his eye as he pulled the truck away from the curb. Lips pursed, blowing air on the liquid through the top hole, she sipped the hot chocolate laced with peppermint extract, and her eyes, honest to God, rolled back into her head. She even moaned. Awkwardly, he shifted in his seat, trying to adjust himself.

Shit. I'll buy her ten a day if that's the reaction she's going to have.

"Thank you. This was nice of you."

"You're welcome. You thought yesterday's Valentine's Day surprise was an aberration?"

Shrugging, she took another sip. "I figured one of the runners got it and passed it to you for me. They're always looking for reasons to talk to you. Perfect opening."

"No other women, Kubrick."

She side-eyed him. "Could have been Christoff and not one of the women."

He groaned, and then she was giggling.

"I love watching your face when he comes up to you with something. He's got it bad."

"Don't remind me."

"He told me since you're retired military, he wanted to see your gun.'"

"What did I just say to you? Am I talking to myself in this truck?"

Now she was full-out laughing. "I wonder what God would say about the harem plus one you've got on the lot. And you've only been here a week. Imagine the damage you'd do if you hung around longer."

"Kubrick," he warned.

"We'd have to put you on retainer to take care of all the women"s needs. And Christoff." Tears were leaking out of the corner of her eyes.

"No Christoff. No other women. I'm only interested in taking care of one woman's needs."

Kubrick stopped laughing.

Well, that came out wrong. Not a lie, but it came out wrong.

The rest of the ride was quiet. When they got to the airport, he swung his bag, hers, and her backpack onto his shoulders, then proceeded to secure the truck.

He did, however, get held up checking in due to his weapon.

"What was that all about?" Kubrick asked him at security.

"Must have been her first time checking in a weapon."

She stared at him blankly. "Excuse me, but did you say ‘weapon'?"

"Yep."

"Umm…"

"Kubrick, I've had it every time I've been around you, and to be honest, since age eighteen, I haven't been anywhere without it. It's all legal; it's in a locked case in the cargo hold with the baggage, so everything is copacetic."

"We're on a movie shoot. Why would you need a weapon?"

He looked at her over his sunglasses.

"Oh, great gravy, okay!" Her voice went deep and growly, doing a Tarzan imitation. "Me big badass SEAL. Must have gun. Pew! Pew!" She made the universal gun shape with her thumb and forefinger as she pretended to shoot villains.

"No ‘big badass SEAL' has a gun that goes ‘Pew! Pew!' And I don't know that I'd make that gesture or talk about firing guns in an airport, or you'll get yourself on the No Fly List."

She waved her hand in front of her face as if to say whatever.

He leaned forward to whisper in her ear. "You know you sounded a lot like Cookie Monster, right?"

"You suck, Waters."

"I have about five smartass replies for that."

She rolled her eyes. "And all so original, I'm sure. C'mon, G.I. Joe. I want to make sure I get a decent chair in the Flight Club since some jerkface made me get here three fucking hours early."

Just short of the TSA screener in the precheck line, she tossed over her shoulder, "That wasn't your only weapon, was it?"

"What do you think?"

"Fuck me. What if you get caught?"

"Really?"

"How?" she hissed.

"Industry secret."

"Fuck me."

That comment he left alone.

Two hourslater as he was walking along the concourse to the gate, he was shoulder-jacked by a giant of a man with dark spiky hair, a tan, and mirrored glasses over his eyes. "Sorry, mate," the man apologized in a New Zealand accent and with a slap on the front of his shoulder.

"No problem," Waters replied.

He took his sunglasses off the top of his head as he watched the man continue down the concourse. Placing the glasses in his inside jacket pocket, he felt an envelope tucked into it.

Alternate passports and cash in case of emergency. Check.

When he and Kubrick were boarding, a blond male flight attendant stopped her for a random bag search. "So sorry, ma'am. I need to search your carry-on."

Waters watched her shoulders go down the slightest bit in exasperation, but she handed it over without comment. The attendant put on latex gloves, opened the backpack, pulled out her computer, a mass of folders, and swept the inside for the check. He neatly placed everything back in the bag, then opened each of the pockets, sliding his hand inside and sweeping the sides. Zipping the last pocket to a closed position, he handed it back to her. "Thank you, ma'am." He scanned her ticket, and Kubrick passed onto the jetway. As the man scanned Waters' ticket, he gave him a slight chin lift and a smile. "You're all set, sir. Have a nice flight."

Trackers placed. Check.

Waters' chin lifted in return. "Thank you."

Inside the plane, Waters helped Kubrick extract her laptop from her backpack, then put the bag in the overhead compartment for her. He made sure she was settled in the window seat of the first row, then sat on the aisle seat, watching the people continue to board.

About five minutes later, a man with shoulder-length dark hair, wire-rimmed glasses, and dressed all in black came aboard. His eyes went straight to Waters, and he stopped for a moment at his chair. "I'm glad I found you. You left this at Security." His Irish lilt and smile were nothing but friendly as he handed a small tablet over. "Looked for you everywhere on the concourse, so I guess it's the luck of the Irish I found you."

Waters took the tablet from the man and thanked him; then the other passenger went down the aisle.

Last-minute directives and secure messaging. Check.

He glanced over at Kubrick. Totally oblivious to what was going on around her. She was already clacking away at emails on the plane's Wi-Fi. Did the woman ever stop working? However, despite the three Crankiness Bombs, she was still yawning.

Enough is enough.

Waters flipped up the arm between their reclining seats, then reached over and closed the computer.

"Sleep, Kubrick. There's plenty of time for that when you've napped or while we're waiting in Houston."

She huffed at him, but the exasperation wasn't very energetic. In fact, she drifted off before the safety spiel even started, and by the time they were next in line to go airborne, she had curled up sideways in her perfectly comfortable seat, leaning her head on Waters' shoulder.

When the seatbelt sign went off, the male flight attendant was at his side, smiling, a blanket in his hand. "I noticed she looked exhausted. Thought she might want this." With that, he unfolded the thin blanket, which was large enough to technically cover them both, and spread it over Kubrick, folding the half that could go over Waters back on top of her again. He winked. "Just in case you get cold as well and want to cover up."

"Fucker," Waters murmured to the attendant's retreating back.

Without thinking, he turned his head and placed a soft kiss on the crown of her head. Settling into his seat, he opened the tablet and entered his codes only to find a group chat going on.

–TB, Demon, Nemo already in chat

– Waters now online

NEMO: You owe me $100.

TB: Not without confirmation.

NEMO: I had visual confirmation, Tuberculosis.

TB: Where?

NEMO: Top of her head. So cute! ??????

DEMON: i hate coach cant c missing all the gud stuf

DEMON: u guys suk

DEMON: y cant i b in biz

TB: Because I'm 6'7 and 240, jackass. There's no way I'm going to fit in Coach. Someone has to be in the back of the plane. You barely weigh 200 lbs, so quit bellyaching.

NEMO: You had the chance to be the flight attendant, Demon. You said you didn't want to have to "work" on the flight. And Godzilla over there definitely can't be the flight attendant.

TB: RAWR ??

DEMON: f u

TB: You know, it's difficult sometimes to believe you have a Harvard education. Can't spell. Can't punctuate. Can't write a literate sentence.

DEMON: f u 2 hate txtn

—God now online

–Midas now online

MIDAS: What did we miss?

NEMO: Ok, to sum up. TB owes me $100 for a kiss to the head. I'm proposing double or nothing Waters gets her off under the blanket during the flight. Triple if he does it on the LAX to IATA leg.

TB: I'll take that bet.

MIDAS: I will, too!

GOD: Get back to work, Midas. You're in the shithouse. You don't locate that package fast, I'm gonna fire your ass and you're going to need that $100.

MIDAS: I can multitask, bosshole.

GOD: Quit quoting your new girlfriend and get back to work.

WATERS: NOBODY IS GETTING ANYBODY OFF ON THIS FLIGHT OR ANY OTHER FLIGHT!!!!!

DEMON: i have 100 you strike out keep thinking that way

WATERS: WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE?

DEMON: u want reel anser 2 that

MIDAS: Definitely need to get him a Snickers during the snack run.

WATERS: I QUIT. RIGHT NOW. YOUR MOTHERS SHOULD HAVE EATEN YOU ALL AT BIRTH.

NEMO: Wow.

NEMO: Guess I better give him 2 Snickers.

MIDAS: You can take down the caps, Betty. You're yelling.

WATERS: BECAUSE I'M PISSED!

NEMO: Better have more than 2 ready. Might have to toss them at him like marshmallows to bears in the zoo.

–Steel now online

NEMO: Hmmmmmmm

NEMO: I just had a thought.

TB: Don't hurt yourself.

NEMO: Here's a question.

DEMON: No!

TB: Who allowed Nitwit on the tablet? Control your genetic disaster Midas.

MIDAS: Hey I tried to absorb him in the womb.

WATERS: NEMO DON'T YOU DARE!!!!!

NEMO: You hurt my feelings. ??

TB: I'm gonna hurt more than your feelings if you start that stupid game.

NEMO: How, Godzilla? Flight marshall will taser your ass.

NEMO: The creature is eating the plane from the inside out! Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!

TB: I swear I'm going to shove that tablet down your throat when we set up base camp.

NEMO: Ok, so…

NEMO: Would you rather…

TB: Have me shove the tablet down your throat or up your ass?

NEMO: Get caught in the middle of the Big O while joining the Mile High Club…

NEMO: OR…

NEMO: Have the airplane toilet overflow with you locked inside?

WATERS: Mission name for this job: Shitshow.

MIDAS: Shitstorm maybe?

TB: More like shitstain.

STEEL: Well, this conversation went to the ninth level of hell fast.

DEMON: ??

DEMON: so dun w/ u all

MIDAS: Is it even possible for the toilet to overflow in an airplane?

TB: We could send Numbnuts in to play with the blue water and find out.

MIDAS: Query. How long is the flight?

TB: Why would that matter?

MIDAS: Well, is the flight long enough to join the Mile High Club decently? I mean, I hate short timing that kind of thing.

MIDAS: Or is it a short enough flight that I wouldn't be in the bathroom long enough to drown in shit?

DEMON: Really??????

MIDAS: It's a serious question.

MIDAS: You haven't seen some of the ways Nemo got in and out of places on a job.

STEEL: Amen, bro.

MIDAS: Oh, yeah. Nicaragua. Ewww. Sorry.

TB: Wow. You really upset the Harvard reject. He actually used punctuation.

DEMON: Fuck you, you twat. Number 2 in my class.

TB: Number 2 is right.

GOD: I pay you idiots too much money. Is ANYONE doing any damn work?

TB: Neither of those would happen to me because I don't fit in an airplane bathroom.

NEMO: Hell, I didn't realize emotional support dinosaurs were even allowed in the main cabin.

DEMON: this convo is unhygenic

STEEL: Mile High Club not romantic. And I've already traveled through a near-full sewer before and survived, so guess I'm locked in.

MIDAS: I'm all about Mile High Club.

NEMO: Waters?

NEMO: Waters?

NEMO: I know you're online, boss. It doesn't say you left.

WATERS: I'm wondering what possessed me to hire you people. I want to lock all of you in the same bathroom and let it fill up so you drown in shit together.

STEEL: No one but yourself to blame for hiring us.

WATERS: I hate you all right now.

NEMO: Great! So what's your answer?

NEMO: Come on, boss. You know the rules. You have to answer.

MIDAS: Of course he's going for the Mile High Club. He's on the plane with Kubrick.

WATERS: You're fired, Nemo.

GOD: No, he's not. Only I can fire him.

WATERS: Christ. Locked in.

NEMO: Liar. God's going to take away your Christmas bonus.

GOD: All of you get off this goddamn chat and back to work or I'm firing all of you.

–God now offline

NEMO: What a funsucker.

TB: I think you're grounded.

MIDAS: Which then means I'm grounded because I'm stuck here with the bosshole as well as related to your sorry ass. Way to go, fuckstick.

WATERS: Ok, guys, fun time is over. You all have shit to do. Move along.

WATERS: Midas, let me know as soon as you find even a single breadcrumb.

MIDAS: Roger that.

MIDAS: Have fun boss! I'll make sure Nemo throws away the key if you can get her in the bathroom.

–Midas now offline

WATERS: You're not just grounded. You're dead.

NEMO: ??

NEMO: On that note, I have to go start drink service.

NEMO: And find the Snickers stash.

–Nemo now offline

DEMON: Sleep boss we got ya covered

–Demon now offline

TB: Ditto.

–TB now offline

–TB now online

TB: BTW

TB: She's mouthy. My kind of girl.

TB: Don't fuck it up.

–TB now offline

STEEL: You ok?

WATERS: Yeah.

STEEL: I'll try to get them to ease up.

WATERS: Don't bother. It'll just make it worse.

STEEL: They'll give up if they get bored when you don't react to it.

STEEL: Probably.

STEEL: Maybe.

WATERS: Do you believe your own bullshit?

STEEL: I have an active fantasy life.

–Steel now offline.

"Fuckers," Waters mumbled under his breath. "They'll be the death of me."

To his left, Kubrick sighed and snuggled further into him in her sleep. He kissed the top of her head again and then shut his eyes. It was going to be a very long three months.