Come Fly With Me

    

An Important Notice to Readers...

     Although this fiction blog is illustrated with photos of dolls, and dollhouse miniatures, the language and content of the storyline is intended for an adult audience.  Please be advised.

Thank You,

   The Author

Red Eye Flight to Cancun

    They had already reached a cruising altitude of 40,000 feet, the stewardess had begun First Class drink service, and still she refused to say one word to him, her lips firmly pressed together, and her attention focused on the night sky through the plane's window.  Not that she didn't have plenty to say on the drive to the air port.  Her reactions had ranged from confusion...to disbelief...to panicked realization...and finally sullen silence.

     All things considered, he could hardly blame her wide range of emotions.  The last 48 hours had been a roller coaster of events, even for the hardiest of souls.  She had married a man she had known for less than six months, had been informed that her husband had less than a normal occupation, watched her new home blown to a million pieces, and had been unceremoniously whisked out of the country under the guise of a romantic honeymoon.

     In spite of the ongoing angst, his bride had remained dried eyed, up until the very moment he needed to explain the use of aliases on the passports and travel documents.  For reasons he couldn't begin to fathom, the thought of being Margaret Baker instead of Maureen Beckett had brought on an extended period of water works, followed by the still ongoing silent treatment.  If his focus hadn't been split between fury over McKreedy, and worry over the pending courier assignment, he might have felt a twinge of guilt over her red eyes, and occasional sniffle.  As it was, his major concern was currently centered on the issue of flying without a weapon, a situation he found deplorable, but could not avoid.  Dealing with the reluctant Mrs. Baker, in public, was a luxury he could not afford at the moment, and so he shelved any discussion of that nature until they were safely ensconced in their honeymoon resort.

____________________________________________

    The sky outside the window was a canvas of black, offering not a thing of interest to hold her outward show of rapt attention.  Still, it was the better alternative to having to face the stranger sitting calmly next to her.  Her husband of only two days reclined in the adjoining seat, his eyes closed, seemingly undisturbed over the crazy events of the past 48 hours, while she remained in a state of utter confusion.  Her wedding day, and the 24 hours following it, could best be described as a Cinderella story written by someone with serious mental illness.  Her mind twisted back and forth from one memory to another, a mix of fantasy romance and the truly bizarre, always coming back to the last conversation she had with him before beginning the silent treatment.
     
         "But, Ted...I just don't understand this whole thing.  It's crazy!  I mean...it's bad enough you drag me out of my own dinner party for this so called secret honeymoon.  Don't even let me say good bye to my family, or pack my own damn clothes.  We drive all the way to New York when there's a perfectly good air port 3 hours closer to home, in the middle of the night, without me having any idea of where we're going until we get to the gate.  And then you tell me I have to travel under some stupid alias?  It's ridiculous.  Weird shit.  I won't do it."
   
        "Baby...I realize this all seems rather odd...but trust me.  There's nothing sinister about any of it.  I  wanted some alone time...just the two of us.  And let's face it...your family can be a bit over bearing.  We'd have been tied up for hours saying our goodbyes.  This is best.  You'll see.  We'll have a wonderful time."

       "Then why can't I just be me...Maureen Beckett?  I don't see why I have to be this Margaret Baker person."

       "I've already explained all this, sweetheart.  I'm not exactly the guy next door.  Traveling under an alias is simply prudent, that's all.   Now, be a good girl, and don't fuss about it."

     Dismissed.  Just like that.  Any attempt at clarification was met with silence, and a look that signaled he was not in the mood to be pushed.  Her tears had garnished a tight hug, and a kiss to her forehead, but then were largely ignored, as was her lack of communication.  So here she sat...on a flight to the Mexico...in the middle of the night...with a man she was beginning to think was as crazy as bat shit...her cell phone in his front pocket...$37 and a phony passport in her purse...on a honeymoon that had all the makings of a nightmare sequel to her wedding.
        
      The stewardess came by with pillows and blankets, and soon afterward, the lights in the cabin were dimmed.  Maureen pulled herself into a tight ball against the window, leaving a chasm of space between she and her husband.  In the dark she heard him sigh, then reach over and pull her closer.  The more she resisted, the more he tightened his grip, until in exhaustion, she finally relented, and let herself be tucked under his arm.  For the first time in several hours, she let herself relax, finding comfort in the security of his embrace, and letting exhaustion finally have its way.

_________________________
 

Cancun International Airport

       It was just after dawn, the sun coming up over the low lying scrub and swaying palm trees surrounding Cancun International Airport.  Bleary eyed, Maureen made her way off the jet, rolling the small carry-on bag behind her.  God knows what was in the damn thing.  She didn't even want to think about the fact that Ted's arrogant buddy Nolan had obviously gone through her personal things to pack it.  Knowing he must have gone through all her dresser drawers, including the bottom one to the left of the bed, made her cringe.

        Despite being party to the same set of events as she, her husband looked disgustingly chipper, and not in the least bit weary.  He, in fact, was overly pleasant, and suddenly concerned with her needs and well being, insisting on taking her bag from her, and stopping for coffee and a bite to eat in a small cafe near the gate.  Beckett appeared to be in no hurry to go anywhere in particular, and if she was able to read him correctly, seemed to be waiting for someone's arrival.

        45 minutes later, her theory was proved right by the arrival of a middle-aged man, dressed in linen pants and a Panama hat, who behaved as if Beckett were a long lost cousin he hadn't seen in years and years.  At least that's what she assumed the conversation was about, as the two men were speaking in quick, fluent Spanish, with she able to only pick out a few words.

       Eventually, the two men finished their reunion, and Ted included her in the conversation.  "Margaret, I'd like you to meet a good friend of mine...Victor Salazar.  Victor...my new bride."

       The man smiled, removed his hat, and stuck out a hand.  " Ah, Senora Baker...congratulations on your happy news. And welcome to Cancun.  I very much hope you enjoy your stay in our beautiful country."

     Maureen bristled at the use of the name "Baker", but not wanting to appear rude, returned the man's handshake.  "Thank you, Mr. Salazar.  I'm so...happy to meet you.  I'm sure we'll have a lovely honeymoon."

     Salazar clapped his hands together.  "Si, Si...beautiful vacation for such nice friends."  He looked to Beckett, and gave him a sly wink.  Then taking the bags from the newlyweds, he started toward the door.  "Shall we go?  I would like to make the trip before traffic gets heavy?"

      Ted grabbed her hand, and they followed the man outside to a beat-up Camry parked at the curb.
"Has podido conseguir el equipamiento de serie?"  Were you able to get the standard equipment.

      "Si ... más algunas nuevas sorpresas Creo que usted estará satisfecho con."   Yes...plus a few surprises I think you'll be pleased with.

      Beckett deposited Maureen into the back seat, and then joined Salazar at the trunk of the car.  She tried to peer out the back window to see what was going on, but the upright hood blocked her view, and the men had lowered their voices to almost a whisper, thwarting any attempt to eavesdrop.  After a few minutes, the men shut the trunk, and joined her in the car.  Though it was still early in the morning, the heat and humidity in the air caused her to stick to the seat, and the sour smell of the vehicle made her queasy.  She hoped where ever they were headed was a short trip, as she desperately needed a shower, a clean set of clothes, and a good long nap.

       As they pulled into traffic, Beckett and Salazar chatted amicably, with the man pointing out points of interest along the way.  They passed several resorts, all fabulous ocean side gems set along the Caribbean shore, yet stopped at none of them.  Soon, they were out of the city limits of Cancun, and traveling along a dusty highway, the view offering few urban amenities.  Unable to keep her concern to herself, she finally asked, "Aren't we going in the opposite direction of Cancun?"

       "Si Senora...we are driving south of the city."

        "But...but aren't we staying in Cancun?  I thought we were staying in Cancun?"

         There was no response from either the man behind the wheel, or her husband, as the city slowly disappeared behind them.

On the road again

Copyright  2013 Victoria T. Rocus
All Rights Reserved