Page 29 of Other Woman Drama (Content Advisory #4)

Twenty-Five

People say “sus” because they can’t spell suspishus.

— Silver to Webber

SILVER

“You should totally get married here,” Eedie said as she stood at my side, looking out at the beach.

“I think it’d be lovely,” I admitted. “A destination wedding would be perfect, too, because neither one of us has much family. We could get your grandmother here, and my sister and her husband. The club if they can make it. And get married right there on the beach.”

The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to do it.

“You could wear a flowy white wedding dress that’ll wave artfully in the ocean breeze. And Dad could wear jeans, no shoes, and a button-down shirt.” Eedie clapped her hands together, her eyes huge and excited.

God, I loved Webber’s kid.

She was so beautiful.

It flabbergasted me that Elizabeth could treat her like she was a piece of trash that she was too good to pick up.

“What else do you think?” I wondered.

“I think that Audric’s place is awesome, and that he should definitely come out here to visit more.” She paused. “And bring me with him, because I could seriously get used to this weather. A UV of nine and ten almost every single day? Eighty-degree weather. Ocean breeze?”

“Maybe when Hai gets into the Air Force, he can get stationed here or something,” I offered.

“One can hope,” she breathed. “Because that sounds a lot like heaven to me.”

I patted her elbow. “What do you think about the…”

Every single phone in the area went off, and more importantly all of them were belonging to the women that were at our table.

Eedie and I were the only ones whose phones didn’t go off, and it left me with a sinking feeling that sent shivers straight down my spine.

Eedie and I looked at each other, and it was like we both knew.

“What happened?” I whispered, not sure I wanted to know the answer.

“Is it Dad?” Eedie asked.

They all looked at Eedie, and the sorrowful look on their faces confirmed it.

Something had happened to Webber.

If I never saw another airport again, I would be happy.

“Please.” I felt like Kevin’s mom from Home Alone . “Please, I have to get home. Please.”

Except, it wasn’t my kid who’d been left alone at home. It was the man that I loved with my whole heart.

Eedie stood beside me, tears slowly snaking down her cheeks.

The woman behind the desk gave me a pitying look. “There’s not another flight that leaves tonight. Only this one.”

Anger fueled my veins.

“I paid seven thousand dollars to get on that flight right there.” I pointed at the plane that was down for maintenance.

It’d been down for maintenance for six hours now, and all six of those hours, Webber had been in surgery.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but there’s literally nothing I can do,” she said.

“Except, there was something you could do. You got them on a plane.” I pointed at the senators who’d been in Hawaii for vacation.

They were no one special just because they held positions in office.

Eedie and I had been on standby for this flight.

Eedie and I had done the work. We’d waited. And we’d waited. And we’d waited.

All the while Webber had been in a hospital fighting for his life.

And now they were telling me that there was ‘nothing they could do?’

“Ma’am…” She looked annoyed.

“Hey, what’s going on here?”

It was the politician who’d taken our spot.

“What’s going on is we were next to be put on this flight on standby,” I said.

“Only, you walked up with your important little name badge there and suddenly y’all are on the plane.

Not only are you on the plane, but the people who were in first class where you are about to sit are now in coach.

People who paid a lot of money for those seats.

Yet, all you had to do was come in here, waving your stupid credentials, and you’re all of a sudden important.

Let me tell you something, just because your name is on an office door in Congress doesn’t mean that you don’t take shits like the rest of us. ”

The man’s smarmy smile slipped. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I’ll bet you are,” I grumbled. “Yet, even now that you know that you took someone’s spot, you don’t care enough to give up your seat, do you?”

He smiled wider, and I wanted to pop him in the mouth.

“When you get a chance, tell the airlines that Congressman McCready took one of your spots, and they’ll compensate you,” he tried.

I gritted my teeth. “Is that all you have to say? My fiancé is in the fucking hospital right now dying, and you’re here trying to get to home to Dallas so you can play golf with the fucking Cowboys, cutting your three-week vacation to Hawaii short.

Fuck the Cowboys. Fuck your golf game. And fuck your stupid ‘tell them Congressman McCready sent you.’”

His smile went a little tight, and I heard whispering behind me.

“And, even more important.” I pointed my finger in his face.

“One of my best friends is up against you in the race for Congress. I am going to do everything in my power to make sure that you never see that sparkly office again. And I fucking hate that you’ll get paid for the rest of your life for doing such a shit job. ”

There were even louder murmurings behind me.

A throat cleared, and I looked to my right to see another senator standing there. “Ma’am, what’s your name?”

I looked to my right to see a woman standing there with a tight smile on her face.

She was dressed as a flight attendant, and I wondered if she had heard everything I said.

“Silver Donahue,” I answered. “This is my stepdaughter, Eedie Webb.”

She waved, though it was pretty pitiful because she was still crying her eyes out.

We’d left the ladies behind, and with it, the updates.

None of the club members would update us.

All they kept saying was “he’s alive.”

That didn’t mean shit to us.

Even worse, every time I didn’t get a “he’s doing well” a little more of me died inside.

The flight attendant pulled us to the side, and she said, “There are four staff members who are flying home. Two of us are willing to stay behind and let you both get on the flight. It’s in first class next to them, though.”

I wilted. “Oh god. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. We’re sorry you were bumped off the flight,” she murmured.

“It’s okay.” My voice cracked. “We’re going to make it.”

“Yeah, you are.” She squeezed my arm and said, “Three A and C.”

Tears peppered my eyes. “Thank you again.”

She handed me her ticket, then went and spoke with the gate agent whom I’d yelled at earlier.

This had been the worst.

We’d gotten to the airport at two in the morning, having to take an island-to-island flight from Maui to Honolulu then had to immediately turn around and get into the airport to then board our plane to Dallas.

When we’d gotten here, the gate agent had told us that the flight was about to be delayed because the plane needed some maintenance due to a hydraulic issue.

She’d said it would be delayed until ten. Then twelve. And now it was delayed until four, with no end in sight.

When I’d asked for another flight, any other flight, she’d apologized and said there weren’t any until tomorrow but she’d put us on standby.

And we’d watched with our hearts in our throats as they boarded the plane.

We were about to be called, they’d literally had our names on the tips of their lips, when the senator frat brothers had rolled up with their important pants on.

And that was when I lost it.

Which led us to now.

“Eedie,” I said quietly. “Don’t let me get into a fight on that plane. I want to be able to get home to your dad and not be arrested by TSA when we land.”

She squeezed my hand as she said, “Come on. Let’s get on the plane.”

We did, with no luggage besides our wallets and the clothes on our backs.

The girls said they would take care of everything else.

We’d left that morning after hearing that Webber had been found next to his bike, clinging to life, after being in an accident involving another car that’d been abandoned.

A hit and run, literally.

That was the last update we’d gotten since.

I closed my eyes and clung to Eedie’s hand tighter.

We boarded the flight, and I tried not to glare at the gate agent as I went by.

When we were seated, I didn’t look at the stupid congressman.

I buckled my seat and glared hard at the stupid air conditioner vent.

“Fucking crazy bitch,” I heard one of the congressmen say.

I clenched my teeth.

You are going down, McCready.

Way down.

Possibly six feet if I had any say about it.