taught him how to use a PalmPilot so he could become super-organized.
Most people probably wouldn’t find the American Airlines terminal of the Raleigh-Durham International Airport all that glamorous, but that’s because they’d be stuck having to hang out at places like Cinnabon or the Great American Bagel Bakery. I, on the other hand, had Jack to take me to the A-list hot spots.
“Wow, you’re a
member
?” I asked as we stood in front of a door that said “American Airlines Admirals Club.” I knew from Dad that part of the reason the Admirals Club was so exclusive was because it cost something like five hundred dollars a year to be a member. Maybe Jack was lying when he said that every month he had to struggle to make ends meet and pay his rent. Maybe, like Marco in
Nailed by Nirvana
, he had a huge trust fund and was just
pretending
to be poor until he made sure I loved him for himself and not his money!
“Not exactly,” he replied with a wink.
“But it says ‘members only,’” I said, pointing at the door.
“Yeah, but I talk my way into these places all the time. It’s easy.” He pushed the door open. “C’mon.”
I paused. Sharing earbuds was one thing, but this?
He grabbed my hand. “Don’t worry, it’s not like we’re going to get arrested.”
The minute he grabbed my hand, all my fear about possibly breaking the law by trespassing disappeared. His hand was a little calloused (because of the guitar playing, no doubt), but that didn’t stop electric shocks from shooting through my body—like the time my blow-dryer shorted out.
“Good afternoon, ma’am,” he said to the woman sitting behind the desk. He leaned in to peer at her name tag. “Ms. Yolanda Crabnick. What a lovely name. Is it okay if I call you Ms. Crabnick?”
From the way she looked us up and down, the “crab” part of her name seemed spot on. “May I see your Admirals Club membership card, please?” she asked.
Jack reached for his wallet, which was attached by a chain to his belt loop, and rifled through it. Not that I was being nosy or anything, but in addition to his driver’s license, ATM card, MasterCard, and YMCA card, I spotted
a lot
of scraps of paper with phone numbers written in loopy, girly handwriting.
He looked up at Ms. Crabnick and gave her one of his most charming roguish smiles. “Uh oh. Seems like I forgot it. Think you can let it slide this one time?”
She shook her head. “No card, no admittance,” she said firmly.
He sighed. “I
knew
I should have had my secretary double-check my briefcase when I got back from that business trip to Japan. I bet it’s in there.”
He had such an incredible imagination. If he could come up with great stories like this one on the spot, I could only imagine what a terrific songwriter he was.
But from the way that Ms. Crabnick glared at him, it was clear she didn’t buy it.
He smiled at her again. “I’m sure you get this
all
the time, but has anyone ever told you that you could be Angelina Jolie’s older sister?”
She rolled her eyes. “As the Admirals Club is a
members-only
establishment, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
My eye landed on a tote bag next to her chair that said, “Sometimes you have to kiss a lot of frogs before your prince comes along.” Peeking out of the top was a book. And I would have recognized that cover anywhere.
“Hey,
Enveloped by Enigmas
is one of my favorites!” I exclaimed. Lulu may have been a fraud, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t a brilliant writer. I had had no idea that the Balinese masseuse Devon fell in love with in the book was actually a Russian spy who was trying to start a nuclear war.
“You’re a Lulu Lavoie fan?” said Ms. Crabnick.
I whipped out my copy of
Propelled by Passion
. “Not only am I a fan,” I said, “but Lulu just happens to be mybest friend’s mother. This is her new book that’s coming out next month.” I flipped it open. “See—it’s even dedicated to
Most people probably wouldn’t find the American Airlines terminal of the Raleigh-Durham International Airport all that glamorous, but that’s because they’d be stuck having to hang out at places like Cinnabon or the Great American Bagel Bakery. I, on the other hand, had Jack to take me to the A-list hot spots.
“Wow, you’re a
member
?” I asked as we stood in front of a door that said “American Airlines Admirals Club.” I knew from Dad that part of the reason the Admirals Club was so exclusive was because it cost something like five hundred dollars a year to be a member. Maybe Jack was lying when he said that every month he had to struggle to make ends meet and pay his rent. Maybe, like Marco in
Nailed by Nirvana
, he had a huge trust fund and was just
pretending
to be poor until he made sure I loved him for himself and not his money!
“Not exactly,” he replied with a wink.
“But it says ‘members only,’” I said, pointing at the door.
“Yeah, but I talk my way into these places all the time. It’s easy.” He pushed the door open. “C’mon.”
I paused. Sharing earbuds was one thing, but this?
He grabbed my hand. “Don’t worry, it’s not like we’re going to get arrested.”
The minute he grabbed my hand, all my fear about possibly breaking the law by trespassing disappeared. His hand was a little calloused (because of the guitar playing, no doubt), but that didn’t stop electric shocks from shooting through my body—like the time my blow-dryer shorted out.
“Good afternoon, ma’am,” he said to the woman sitting behind the desk. He leaned in to peer at her name tag. “Ms. Yolanda Crabnick. What a lovely name. Is it okay if I call you Ms. Crabnick?”
From the way she looked us up and down, the “crab” part of her name seemed spot on. “May I see your Admirals Club membership card, please?” she asked.
Jack reached for his wallet, which was attached by a chain to his belt loop, and rifled through it. Not that I was being nosy or anything, but in addition to his driver’s license, ATM card, MasterCard, and YMCA card, I spotted
a lot
of scraps of paper with phone numbers written in loopy, girly handwriting.
He looked up at Ms. Crabnick and gave her one of his most charming roguish smiles. “Uh oh. Seems like I forgot it. Think you can let it slide this one time?”
She shook her head. “No card, no admittance,” she said firmly.
He sighed. “I
knew
I should have had my secretary double-check my briefcase when I got back from that business trip to Japan. I bet it’s in there.”
He had such an incredible imagination. If he could come up with great stories like this one on the spot, I could only imagine what a terrific songwriter he was.
But from the way that Ms. Crabnick glared at him, it was clear she didn’t buy it.
He smiled at her again. “I’m sure you get this
all
the time, but has anyone ever told you that you could be Angelina Jolie’s older sister?”
She rolled her eyes. “As the Admirals Club is a
members-only
establishment, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
My eye landed on a tote bag next to her chair that said, “Sometimes you have to kiss a lot of frogs before your prince comes along.” Peeking out of the top was a book. And I would have recognized that cover anywhere.
“Hey,
Enveloped by Enigmas
is one of my favorites!” I exclaimed. Lulu may have been a fraud, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t a brilliant writer. I had had no idea that the Balinese masseuse Devon fell in love with in the book was actually a Russian spy who was trying to start a nuclear war.
“You’re a Lulu Lavoie fan?” said Ms. Crabnick.
I whipped out my copy of
Propelled by Passion
. “Not only am I a fan,” I said, “but Lulu just happens to be mybest friend’s mother. This is her new book that’s coming out next month.” I flipped it open. “See—it’s even dedicated to
Similar Books
