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CHAPTER FIVE

THE KELLERS

Sarah Keller looks over at the last of the travelers threading into the tiny tunnel leading to the plane. JFK Airport’s distorted speaker squawks a last call for Boarding Group 5.

There are two kinds of people in this world: those who arrive at the gate two hours early and constantly check to confirm they haven’t lost their boarding pass—the Sarah Kellers—and those who pride themselves on making it just under the wire—the Bob Kellers. On cue, she sees her husband through the throng of fast-walking travelers. Bob is hard to miss. He’s heavyset and wears a concert T-shirt that’s faded and frayed. And today he’s carrying their nine-year-old twins, one slung over each shoulder.

She can’t help but smile. Her fellow agents at the FBI, with their starched white shirts and conservative demeanor, never quite know what to make of Bob.

“Hurry, we’re gonna miss the flight,” she tells him.

“We’ve got plenty of time, G-woman.” Bob sets the twins down. Heather and Michael are getting too big for such antics. But if she’s being honest, she likes that they’re young for their age. And it’s her husband who keeps them that way—Bob sprinkles Peter Pan dust wherever he goes.

The kids are giggling now. Keller notices that Michael is holding something behind his back.

She gives him the wide-eyed mom look that says he’d better come clean. Michael reveals a Hudson’s bag that is stuffed full.

“I assume that’s filled with healthy snacks…?”

“Daddy said ‘Airport Rules,’” Michael tells her.

Keller narrows her eyes. When they were young, before kids, Airport Rules was their term—their justification—for having too many cocktails when they were traveling, no matter the time of day. Vodka and soda at 7 a.m.? Airport Rules. A fourth beer? Airport Rules. Now it apparently means candy and potato chips and god knows what else.

She herds them to the gate, hands out their boarding passes, and they march through the tunnel to the plane.

Keller is slightly annoyed about the snacks. But it’s hard to get mad at Bob.

The flight attendant greets them with a nice of you to finally join us expression, asks to see Bob’s boarding pass. She perks up when she sees he’s in first class.

“There must be a mistake,” Bob says when she directs him to the front of the aircraft, the fancy section—the seats that recline flat, the full video setup, the plastic cup of champagne he’s handed. Bob turns and looks at Keller.

“An early birthday present,” she says.

For once, Bob is speechless. Until he sees Keller and the twins head toward the back, the economy section.

“Wait. You just bought one first-class seat?”

“I only had enough miles for one.”

“I’m not going to sit up there while you’re in the—”

“Airport Rules,” Keller replies. “Right, kids?”

Michael and Heather hold conspiratorial grins as Keller ushers them to the rear of the plane. The upgrade isn’t really about his birthday. It’s because this trip—this move—to his hometown is going to be difficult for her husband.

The back of the aircraft is as expected. Overhead bins full. Too many people packed into too little space.

The businessman sitting in their row audibly sighs when he sees them. He closes his laptop, removes his papers from the middle seat.

“Sorry,” Keller says, “you almost made it without a seatmate.”

The man mutters something under his breath.

Keller couldn’t get three seats together so she booked the middle and window seat next to the cranky passenger and the aisle seat in front of them.

Keller is about to ask if the businessman would trade for the seat in front when a baby in that row starts wailing.

The businessman clenches his jaw. “My secretary booked me in coach by accident. Let’s just say she’d better be updating her Indeed profile.” He looks around for support. And gets none.

Keller takes the middle seat. She doesn’t want this sour man any nearer to her kids than necessary.

The flight attendant makes her final rounds, tells the man to stow his laptop for takeoff, and he grumbles some more.

The baby wails for the next three hours. The poor mom, early twenties and overwhelmed, stands in the aisle, bouncing the child in her arms.

Keller can feel rage emanating off Asshole Businessman.

The new mom can see it as well and a tear escapes her eye. Keller is about to get up to help, but then sees Bob walking down the aisle, a midflight constitutional.

His eyes widen at the scene before him: line for the bathroom; glaring Asshole Businessman; crying lady holding crying baby.

Bob lightly musses Michael’s hair. He’s asleep. He can sleep through anything.

“How’s your flight going?” Keller asks with an exaggerated smile.

Bob grimaces, like it’s amazing. “You should come up and check it out.” Then he stops. Grins. “Never mind, they don’t let you people up there.”

“Watch it…”

The baby starts up again and the mother is falling apart. An older woman waiting for the restroom is consoling her.

“Jesus Christ,” Asshole Businessman says, too loud.

“Whoa, buddy.” Bob stares down at him.

“Unless you want to trade seats with me, I’m not your buddy,” Asshole Businessman says. “And do you mind not looming over me?”

Bob holds eye contact with the guy. Keller doesn’t like the look in her husband’s eyes. Bob is the nicest person you’d ever want to meet, but he has a line you don’t want to cross.

He stares at the man a long time, then breaks away. He looks at the woman with the baby. Her face is streaked with tears and exhaustion.

Keller decides it’s time to help. She tells Asshole Businessman she needs to get out of her seat and he huffs.

Keller kisses Bob, sidles past him, and approaches the young mom. “Hi, I’m Sarah. This is my husband. Bob is something of a baby whisperer.” Keller gestures for her to give the baby to Bob. The mom seems reluctant at first, but then carefully hands the baby to Bob, who starts to sway and bounce. And if Keller hadn’t witnessed it so many nights with the twins, she wouldn’t have believed it: The baby actually stops crying.

Keller and the older woman try to comfort the mom in the tiny area next to the bathroom. She’s on her own, she says. Going to California to live with her parents. She hasn’t slept in what feels like days. She’s losing it, says she’s a bad mom, her son deserves better. Then she begins sobbing again.

It’s then that Keller decides. She looks over at Bob, who is already nodding, knowing what’s coming.

Keller puts her hands on the woman’s shoulders and looks her in the eyes. “You need some sleep. How about you follow my husband? He’s going to trade seats with you.”

When wheels finally hit the tarmac in San Francisco a small eternity later, Bob is crowded in the middle seat in front of Keller. Asshole Businessman is already standing, yanking his bag from the overhead. A flight attendant asks him to remain seated until the seat belt light is off, and he refuses, gets too close to her face.

“Sir, please sit down.”

Keller’s had enough. She stands, yanks out her badge, shoves it in Asshole Businessman’s face. “You think the flight is bad, wait until you see the airport holding cell.”

The man sits quickly and looks at his lap.

Her husband twists around and gives her an admiring look, the one that fills her chest with something warm. She’s simultaneously filled with sadness. Bob looks spent, and the trip is off to a rough start. And it’s not going to get any better for him. But he still manages to give her a crooked smile, conjure some humor in the situation, and she loves him even more for it. She hears a text and she opens it. It’s from Bob:

Agent Badass