Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 78357 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78357 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
My eyes widen in horror as I look around at my surroundings. People are taking a second look as they walk past me, as if I stand out to be different. I suddenly become aware of people staring at me and I glance down at myself. I’m in a black tight pencil skirt and matching suit jacket, a silk blouse, sheer stockings and high heels. My long length dark hair is twisted into a bun. I have a small overnight black Louis Vuitton suitcase and my matching Louis Vuitton laptop bag.
Shit, a tad overdressed. I feel like I come from another planet, looking around at my surroundings…maybe I do.
“I’ll find you one now,” she says in a panic. “Grab a drink at the bar and I’ll call you right back.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. I don’t need this shit tonight. After the ten-hour flight, I’m beat. “Okay.” I reply as I try to stay calm. “Speak soon.” I hang up.
Oh…. my fuck.
I wheel my suitcase through the airport and over to the bar and take a seat, the waiter smiles as he wipes down the bar. “Hello.”
“Hi.”
“What can I get you?”
“A Manhattan, please.” I smile.
“A what?”
I frown at his reply. “Um… a Manhattan?”
“Nope, don’t know what that is.”
“Oh.” I pause as I think of another drink. “A cosmopolitan, please.”
He screws up his face.
“As in cocktail?” I wince. “Maybe a Classic Old Fashioned?”
“Nope.”
Oh hell, where the fuck am I?
He scratches his whiskers as if thinking. “I can do a fancy Margarita.”
“Yes, that,” I snap way too fast. “Fancy Margarita would be great.”
He gets to making my drink and I take my phone out and text Clancy.
What’s happening?
No answer.
Great, I put my phone down on the bar and stare at the back of the bartender.
I can’t wait for this fucking drink. My phone vibrates on the bar and I pick it up, it’s Clancy. “Hi.”
“Don’t freak out.”I frown, that doesn’t sound good.
“So apparently there isn’t a transfer company open, the one company there who does transfers for that distance is closed for refurbishment for a month.”
“What?” I pinch the bridge of my nose.
“Don’t worry, I’m just looking for a charter flight now. I’ll find someone to fly you straight to Anchorage”
“Okay, good idea.”
“What are you doing?”
“I’m at the bar.”
“Well, don’t drink too much until I find you a flight.”
I roll my eyes.
“I’ll be back soon.”
“Speak then.” I hang up just as the bartender puts the drink in front of me, only it’s not a drink, it’s a concoction. And when I say concoction, I mean, what the actual hell is this crap? The only thing that resembles a Margarita, is the glass.
“What is this?” I frown.
“A fancy Margarita.”
“It’s red.”
He smiles broadly. “That’s the fancy bit.”
I narrow my eyes as I study the drink and point to the balls floating at the top. “Are these grapes?”
“Aha,” he smiles proudly. “Super fancy, just for you.”
“Ha-ha, great.” I lie.
Kill me now.
I tentatively pick it up and take a sip. I try hard not to screw up my face in disgust. Oh hell, I think he used a cleaning product instead of Tequila.
“Well?” he smiles hopefully, as he waits for my verdict.
“Oh…,” I fake a smile. “It’s…,” I pause as I try to find an alternative word to fucking poison. “Wonderful.”
He gives me a cheesy wink. “Don’t you worry about us in Fairbanks, we know our shit.”
I stare at him as I realise that a truer statement has never been made, this drink is literal shit in a cup. “Yes…yes, you do.” I smile.
He turns his back to me and gets back to work and I wince as I take another sip.
Oh hell…this is fucking bad. I look around for somewhere to empty it so that he won’t see. At least he tried.
My phone rings again, it’s Clancy. “Hi.”
“I can’t find anywhere.”
“What?”
“Nobody can do a charter until Friday.”
“What do you mean?” I whisper angrily. “This is getting fucking ridiculous.””There are no charter flights until Friday.”I roll my eyes in disgust.
“I’m renting you a car.”
“For what?”
“You’re going to have to drive.”
“What, now?” My forehead creases in horror. “Are you serious?”
“I don’t know how to get you there if you don’t drive yourself. I told you we should have postponed.”
My blood begins to boil.
“I’m going to call around and try and find you accommodation halfway on the trip. I googled it, and it seems like just one highway. That should be easy,” she says, but I can hear the panic in her voice.
“Where is my original hotel?”
“The Four Seasons in Anchorage.”
“Okay.” I’ll make that tonight, I’m not completely useless. I glance around to see the car rental counter over at the other side of the airport. “I’ll get a car, don’t you worry. Go back to bed.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m fine.” I stare at the drink in front of me. If I can drink that, I can do anything. “Okay, speak later.”