Page 1 of Fence

1

Fence

“Doesanyone but me see the irony in this?” I glanced at my brother and cousin as we made our painfully slow way through the security line.

Miles snorted under his breath. “I’d thought of it, yes.”

“Same here. Who wouldn’t?” Gate looked around. “Times like this, I wish we could make it across the ocean.”

“What? You mean this isn’t as exciting an experience for you as it is for me?” I rolled my eyes, and the others laughed.

It was my understanding that humans did things like this all the time. They decided they wanted to go someplace, they purchased a plane ticket—and, if they were like us and their travel warranted leaving the country, made sure their passport was in order—and then? They went to the airport at their scheduled time and waited in a ridiculously lengthy line to have their bags scanned, only to wait some more before boarding their flight.

It was so much easier just to shift and take to the air.

Except when I was on my way to Scotland, which was another situation altogether.

What would they think if they knew I was a little nervous? I’d have bet they were nervous, too. None of us had ever flown in a plane before. We’d never done anything but drive up and down the mountain. This was entirely new, and the mental image of three babes in the woods flashed through my head as I moved forward in line.

Nobody on looking us over would imagine we were so inexperienced. To the uninformed eye, we were three men who happened to be traveling together. We might just as well be flying away for a boys’ trip, as I’d seen on TV. A long, wild weekend. In Scotland, of all places. Did people fly to Scotland for such things?

My thoughts were wandering again. I reminded myself to focus, as Mary had recommended.

“You’ll be under scrutiny,” she’d informed us as we’d talked about our plans. “Everyone is nowadays. I remember when air travel meant showing up at the airport, flashing your ticket, and getting on the plane. You could bring people with you right up to the gate. And people dressed well to fly. And you could smoke everywhere…” She’d shaken herself a little then, lost in her memories, and smiled. “Sometimes I miss smoking in public, I suppose.”

After that little walk down Memory Lane, she’d gotten back to the business at hand. “You boys already know how to blend in with regular humans. Don’t make too much eye contact, especially with the TSA agents. They might wonder why you’re looking at them so much. Most people don’t, trust me. They’re afraid of getting flagged. Just go about your business quickly, make sure you adhere to the list I sent you of what not to pack in your carry-on, and wear shoes you can slip in and out of fairly quickly.”

“Why’s that?” Gate had asked, reviewing the list of packing no-nos.

“Because nobody wants to be in line behind the guy who can’t quickly take his shoes off to put them up on the conveyor belt. You’ll see when you get there.”

She was right. I did see. The process of hauling one’s carry-on onto the belt, then taking off all extras—belt, whatever was in the pockets, shoes—was like an exercise in efficiency. It was easy to spot the infrequent travelers, those who dawdled or had to be advised to remove another item of clothing before they could go through the metal detector. Or perhaps they simply didn’t care about the dozens of people waiting behind them.

Suddenly, it was my turn. I moved quickly, as I had watched others do, kicking off my loafers while placing my bag on the belt. I caught the appraising gaze of the girl in front of me and smiled.

“You’re a pro,” she grinned. “I can always tell.”

“A pro?”

Her long curls bounced when she nodded. “You travel a lot. I have an eye for these things.”

I did everything I could to keep myself from laughing out loud. “I’ve been around.”

“I’d love to know where.” She flashed me what I could only classify as a look before stepping into the body scanner and lifting her hands over her head. Tight body, killer smile, and bedroom eyes that met mine, catching me watching her as she waited to be cleared.

Travel had its perks.

I took my turn and went through, collecting my things on the other side. That went much easier than I’d imagined. I cast a brief look over my shoulder to find Miles and Gate going through the same process. No problems. That allowed me to turn my attention back to the buxom little thing who was clearly lingering longer than she needed to.

“I’m Vanessa,” she smiled. “If you have time before your flight, maybe we can grab a drink together?”

I considered it. “I don’t know that there’s a lot of time, to be quite honest.”

She tilted her head to the side. “You have the most interesting way of talking.”

“Do I?”

More nodding, more bouncing of those thick, dirty blonde curls. I couldn’t help but wonder if she was quite real, or one of those women who looked like a stranger when she took off her makeup. It was always clear to me when a woman’s beauty was manufactured. How human men could claim to be surprised or claim that their women lied to them over how they truly looked would always mystify me.

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