Page 2 of Night So Silent
“Yes, after I told him about how Roux died a few months ago and I didn’t know if I’d be able to get another cat because he was the most perfect cat in the whole world.”
“What a phony. Please say you got home safe and immediately blocked him.”
“Of course I did. As soon as I stepped out of the car, I told him it just wasn’t going to work out for the exact reasons I just told you. And I did block him, but not before he sent a flurry of texts having a colossal hissy fit. Totally short-circuited. Like, if my reproductive choices are such a problem, then why is he still trying to talk to me? So, anyway, I’mecstaticto get on this plane,turn off my phone, and—in true irony—spend the next few days in Baby Land.”
“What a fucking nightmare,” Brett mutters.
“I’m done with men, at least for a good long while. ThankGodI never slept with him.”
It’s going to be a bumpy New Year at this rate. And spending uninterrupted time with Brett won’t help on that front; she curses more than I do.
Brett wishes me a safe flight and we exchangeI love yousjust as I get to the front of the line. Based on how long it’s taking me to get through security, the Christmas rush in the airport is in full swing. I shove my phone in my backpack and grab a plastic bin, turning to the conveyor belt just in time for a woman with long, straw yellow hair to slam into my shoulder as she rushes past me. I drop the bin with a clatter as she cuts ahead, making my blood pressure skyrocket.
“Excuse me,” I snip, swiping the bin off the ground with a scowl.
With her caked-on foundation, smudged-up smoky eyes, and overzealous amount of lip filler, she kind oflookslike a scarecrow. She casts a condescending look over her bony shoulder and sets her bag on the belt before disappearing through the metal detector.
Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name…
I’m going to need all the help I can get.
No sooner do I step through the metal detector in my baby blue wool socks than I see a gruff agent shuffle over and grab my backpack off the belt as it passes through the X-ray.
“This yours?” he barks through the plexiglass.
“Yes,” I reply wearily and follow it to a counter near the end of the line.
Meanwhile, Scarecrow is busy putting her six-inch stiletto ankle boots back on with a smirk. Who the hell wears heels in the airport anyway?
I step up to the counter and immediately let out an audible gasp as the agent swings my backpack onto the counter with a resounding thud.
“My laptop is in there! Can youpleasebe careful?”
He proceeds to ignore me as he opens my backpack and examine everything inside. “You can’t have this,” he declares, pulling the clear water bottle out of the side pocket. “No liquids over 3.4 ounces.”
I narrow my eyes, glaring at thefrozenwater bottle with a solid block of ice inside.
“I’m aware, which is why it’siceinstead ofwater.”
He shifts his beady eyes back to me, completely unamused. I’m going to be detained indefinitely due to the shortfalls of our education system and because I can’t keep my mouth shut.
“Identification,” he deadpans.
I hand my passport over with a huff and he peers at it suspiciously.
“This isn’t you.”
“What do you mean,it’s not me?My face is on it and all the information matches my driver’s license.”
“Your hair’s a different color.”
“Of course, it’s a different color. That photo was taken five years ago.”
He types something into his computer and squints at the screen. “Says here you’re on the FBI watch list.”
“What?”
He doesn’t answer me, but instead mutters something into a walkie-talkie and calls over another agent who seems just as clueless as him. They stare at the screen for a couple of minutesuntil a short, round woman with fluffy blonde hair shuffles over and studies the screen.
