Page 50 of All That Glitters
Terrorist Watchlists and Happy Endings
A ‘brEAKING NEWS’ banner flashed on the TV, just as Veronica was mid-bite on a slice of pizza. She immediately set down her pizza and turned up the volume. Whatever this ‘breaking news’ was, she had no doubt it involved Tony. And probably her accident-prone roommate as well. And sure enough...
“We have breaking news out of San Diego,” the anchor began, “where police stopped what is being called a failed hijacking attempt. We take you now live to Alexis Calderon at the airport.”
The news cut to a reporter standing on the tarmac, her hair whipping in the wind as she shouted over the roar from nearby jet engines.
“Thank you, Sandra. What we’re witnessing here can only be described as unprecedented.
Passengers on a nearby aircraft captured the terrifying moment on their cell phones. ”
The image on the screen cut to shaky, handheld video, clearly shot by a passenger from a nearby plane.
It showed a chaotic scene on the runway.
A massive 747 sat motionless, its emergency slide deployed like a giant yellow tongue.
A swarm of police cars and a menacing black SWAT van surrounded the aircraft.
Veronica took a bite of pizza as she watched the grainy footage. She washed it down with a Coke.
“The male suspect,” the anchor’s voiceover narrated with the same tone used for international terrorists, “allegedly commandeered a service vehicle and used it to stop a departing international flight to Paris.”
Veronica nearly spat up her Coke. Yup. Tony.
The footage zoomed in, becoming grainier, as two figures were hauled off the runway by a heavily armed SWAT team. The first figure was a young man with wild hair, looking like he’d just run a marathon through a dust storm.
The second figure was a young woman, who appeared to be arguing with one of the SWAT officers, gesticulating wildly even with her hands cuffed behind her back. Even in the grainy footage, her indignant body language was unmistakably familiar.
“The suspects were later identified,” the anchor continued, “as Tony Harding and Debbie Campbell.”
Veronica just face-palmed herself.
Tony stared through the steel bars of the holding cell, a familiar view by now. At the rate he was going, the guards were probably already placing bets on what he’d be arrested for next.
The heavy door at the end of the corridor clanked open, the sound echoing through the quiet cell block.
A guard appeared, followed by two figures Tony had seen way too many times from this view.
Bob, his face a mask of weary resignation, and Debbie, who looked tired and disheveled and was, without question, the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
“Hey, you guys,” Tony said as they approached his cell.
Bob stopped in front of the bars and sighed, the deep, long-suffering sigh of a man who thought he’d seen everything until he met Tony. “Congratulations,” he said, his voice flat. “This time you managed to get yourself on the no-fly list.”
Debbie just grinned sheepishly. “Hey,” she said.
“Hey,” Tony grinned back.
Then, to Tony’s complete surprise, Carrie walked down the corridor and joined them. Tony did a double-take, his eyes going from Debbie to Carrie, and back to Debbie. “Wait. Weren’t you just trying to drown her?”
Debbie laughed. “She explained everything, and she should actually be drowning me.” She looked at Carrie. “Please don’t drown me.”
Carrie laughed. “You’re good. I’m glad we got to finally meet on dry land.”
“Me too.” Debbie turned to Tony. “Carrie and your producer buddies came up with your bail.”
“Ow, wow,” Tony said, turning to Carrie. “Thank you!”
“Of course,” Carrie said. “The guys were just glad it wasn’t them being arrested for a change. I was thinking we should make this into a movie script.”
“How not to make a movie? Or an idiot’s guide to falling in love with your best friend?”
Carrie laughed, but there was a thoughtful look in her eyes. “I kinda like both titles.”
“Me too. Let’s make it our next one after Monaco.”
“Let’s do it.”
The guard, who was starting to look at them with a sense of paternal familiarity, turned to Bob. “Sure you don’t want to just keep him in here? Save yourself a trip next time he gets in trouble.”
“No,” Bob said. “Because he’s not going to get into any more trouble.” He fixed Tony with a stern, meaningful glare. “Are you, Tony?”
“Nope,” Tony said. And he mostly meant it.
The guard shrugged, pulled out his keys, and unlocked the cell door. It swung open with a loud metallic groan.
Tony stepped out, a free, if federally-monitored, man. “Thanks, you guys,” he said sincerely. “I owe you again.” He turned to Carrie. “I promise I’ll pay you back for the bail.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Carrie said sweetly. “Call it a wedding present from me and the guys.”
The word hung in the air. “Wedding?” Tony repeated, his brain catching up.
He turned to Debbie. She was looking at him, her eyes shining, a slow, beautiful smile spreading across her face. She gave a small, decisive nod.
“Yes,” she said, her voice clear and sure. “My answer’s yes. I’ll marry you.”
“Holy smoke!” It was all he could say. His heart felt like it was going to burst. He closed the distance between them and grabbed her in a hug, lifting her off the ground and spinning her around.
All the chaos, all the bad ideas, all the terrible decisions, they had all led him right here, to this one perfect, undeniable moment.
The guard watched the display with a look of profound disbelief. He turned to Bob.
“They’re not planning on reproducing, are they?” he asked, his voice full of genuine concern for the future of the human race.
Bob just laughed.
The sun shone down on a small, picturesque church, its white steeple towering against a perfect blue sky.
A crowd of friends and family gathered on the church steps, a chaotic, motley, and wonderful mix of people from every chapter of their lives.
They cheered and tossed rice as Tony and Debbie ran down the steps and ducked into a sleek black limousine waiting at the curb.
A hand-painted sign, clearly the work of Rif Raf Produkshuns, was taped to the back, the words ‘JUST MARRIED’ scrawled in garish, happy letters.
Everyone was there. Debbie’s parents stood beside Veronica, who was dabbing her eyes with a tissue.
Nearby, Eli was talking with Morgan Fisher, who was laughing heartily.
Jeff and Matt were there, posing for selfies with Carrie.
And in the front row, as a testament to the strange and wonderful path that had led them here, stood the entire Rif Raf crew.
Craig, Roy, Carl, and the rest of the boys were decked out in ill-fitting suits, their hair slicked back, looking respectable in a way that was almost, but not quite, convincing.
At their feet, Elvis the dog sat patiently, a bow tie wrapped around his neck.
As the limo began to pull away, Matt pocketed the camera he’d been using to take selfies with Carrie, and nudged Jeff, a smug, knowing grin on his face.
Jeff just frowned, with a look of annoyed defeat on his face.
With a weary sigh, he reached into his pocket, pulled out his wallet, and handed Matt another twenty-dollar bill. He had lost yet another bet.
Inside the limousine, the noise and celebration of the outside world faded away.
It was just the two of them, finally alone.
Tony looked at Debbie, his wife, and felt a sense of peace so profound it almost brought him to tears.
She wore a simple, beautiful white dress, her hair done up with little flowers, and she had never looked more like herself.
“I love you,” he whispered, the words no longer stuck in his throat.
“I know,” she whispered back, a teasing glint in her eye. She leaned in, her hand tangling in his hair, and her lips met his.
And in that kiss was everything. The fifteen years of friendship, the shared jokes, the water balloons and broken windows.
The disastrous dates and the premiere party.
The glitter and the gold. The airport chase and the jail cells.
It was a kiss that tasted of warm summers and childhood memories, of heartfelt apologies and second chances.
It was messy, and chaotic, and imperfect.
It was real. And it was gold.