Page 15 of Yours, Always

“It seems like you’ve earned it. I heard you won that award.” Paul handed him back his boarding pass.

“I did. It was pretty cool. Thanks, man.” Greyson tried to move past him but was stopped when Paul stuck his arm out.

“Hey”—Paul blocked his path—“can I get a quick autograph?” He pulled out a picture of Greyson from a manilla envelope that had been stashed in his podium. Greyson quirked an eyebrow, surprised he had the picture waiting there, but took the proffered pen and signed. “Thanks, this will get big bucks on eBay now that you’re an award winner.” Paul shook Greyson’s hand then quickly stuffed the picture back into the envelope and turned back, effectively dismissing him.

Greyson rolled his eyes and took out his pocket sanitizer, squirting his hands as he walked away.

Greyson turned the corner from the checkpoint and started his trek to terminal five. He wanted to grab some gifts along the way and knew there wasn’t anything quite like airport gifts. They were just the right amount of thoughtfulness and forgetfulness, the recipient almost guaranteed to not ask where you got the item, but knowing it had to come from the airport, picked up in a mad dash on your way in or out.

He spotted the familiar logo ofI Love L.A.and cut across the corridor, heading straight to the small book section in the back. He scanned the titles, muttering under his breath, “Murder…romance. Ah, murder romance.” He reached out and grabbed one he hadn’t read off the shelf. He loved cozy mystery novels—one thing no one knew about him. Fixer-upper murders, flower shop murders, bakery murders, you name it, he’d read it. There was just something about finding romance in the middle of an active murder investigation that intrigued him. A grizzly homicide, but somehow explained with humor and next to no gore. He’d thought more than once that he’d jump at the chance to do a Hallmark movie based on any one of the novels he’d read. He swiped anI Heart L.A.shirt as he walked toward the register. He’d given Annabelle the exact same shirt every time he came home, a long running joke that had started with him forgetting he’d already gotten her one. Now, she expected it. He decided to throw in a thermometer fridge magnet, just to keep her guessing.

Greyson glanced at his watch and decided he had time to run to the Duty-Free Store to grab something for Prudence and Gabe, not seeing anything in here he wanted to get them. After a quick dash he strode into the store. Prudence was easy to shop for, it never mattered what he got her, she loved it all and was genuinely surprised he ever got her anything. He picked out a watch remembering her words from last night that she needed a new one. He eyed a bottle of Glenfiddich, deciding that it would be the perfect gift for Gabe.

After getting to his gate, miraculously there had been no gate change—so far—he settled into his favorite airport activity. People watching. He wasn’t sure why, maybe being an actor and having to get into the character’s headspace for every role made him good at imagining what was going through other people’s minds. He spotted the harried mom, trying to corral multiple kids and their carry-ons while—and this was no fail—the dad stood clueless, zoning out, not noticing the pleading looks his wife was sending him. There was the solo hippie, most often a guy, who hadn’t showered in weeks or had two nickels to rub together. Then there were the groups—the sports teams headed to the next tournament, the bands trying to make it big and the church kids on their way to a mission or volunteering.

Greyson had some time to kill and pulled out his phone to call Prudence, knowing she’d be up but not working yet. She answered on the first ring. “Hey, Grey, what are your airport musings for me today?”

It had become a tradition for Greyson to ring her any time he had a long layover following an incident years ago when he’d called her after witnessing an actual arrest in the airport. He immediately felt any troubles in his mind fade away when he saw her smile on his screen. “The TSA guy asked me for my autograph.”

“I never took you for the guy that carried around his own head shots for autographs.”

“Seriously, Pru. He already had it there and he said he’d be able to make some money on eBay now that I was an award winner.”

Prudence’s hand went to her mouth as she tried, unsuccessfully, to stifle a laugh. “Oh, he did not!”

“I swear he did. I don’t know how long he had that picture with him, but it’s the same guy I see whenever I fly out.”

“Now that’s a classic LAX story if I’ve ever heard one. What book did you get for your flight?”

“How do you know I got a book? Maybe I have a big important script to read.”

“Oh please, I know you get a book every time. Let me guess. A cozy murder mystery. Romance, I think.” Greyson’s eyes widened. “I knew it!”

“Sometimes I swear you can read my mind, Pru.” He brought the screen closer to his face. “Don’t you dare tell anyone. It will completely shatter my image as a big macho action star.”

“Nothing could possibly shatter that image. In fact, the ladies would love you even more if they knew.”

Greyson laughed at the truth of this. He flipped his camera so Prudence could see the people walking through the airport. “Lots of people here this early. They opened a new terminal so I’m seeing a lot of extra flight crew, too.” They sat in silence for a moment. “You know, I think that’s one thing I like to watch for. The flight attendants and the pilots. Walking around like they own the place.” He paused. “I guess they probably do. Marching in their polished loafers and four-inch heels, they always walk the same, whether they’re in a hurry or not, parting the sea of travelers without having to utter a word.”

“Wow, Grey, what’s gotten you so poetic this morning?”

His response was interrupted by a tall, blonde flight attendant walking to their gate door. She stopped next to his seat, bending over to adjust the strap on her heel, leaning close to him. “Ever joined the mile high club?”

He could hear Prudence’s muffled laughter on his phone. “Oh my God, Grey,” and the beep as she hung up. The smiling flight attendant was oblivious to being overheard and winked as she walked away.This is going to be an interesting flight.

Greyson settled into his first-class seat and called Prudence again.

“Ever join the mile high club?” she asked in a husky low tone, trying to mimic the flight attendant. His groin tightened in awareness, immediately imagining every single thing he would do to Prudence on a plane if he had a chance.

“Very funny, Pru. Would you believe it if I said that’s the first time I’ve ever been propositioned by a flight attendant?”

“Not for a second. So, back to your book. Which one did you get?”

“I was serious when I said I had a script to read. The one with Samantha Crane.” He set his phone on his lap as he bent over to his carry-on to grab the script Nadia had tossed on his table the prior day. “Damn, where are you?” he muttered to himself before remembering he’d left it at home on that very same table. “I guess I forgot it.” He raised his voice, so Prudence could hear while he was still bent over. He glanced toward the aisle and noticed the familiar pair of heels the flight attendant from earlier was wearing. She leaned over, and he tried not to stare at the cleavage straining to get out of her button-down shirt. It was right there at eye level, though, directly over the phone and Prudence’s face.

“Greyson Atwood, we meet again,” the perky blonde said.

“I don’t think we had a choice, did we?”

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