Read Online Forsaken by the Others by Jess Haines - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jess Haines
Ads: Link
escorted
onto was sleek, pristine, and full of so many gadgets and amenities that I was afraid
to touch anything inside in case it might break. Sara was more at home, staying in
her seat and reading a book while I prowled around the cabin.
A flight attendant came in at one point to see if we needed anything and tried to
show me what a few of the doodads did, but it wasn’t as fun to poke around with someone
following me around and sounding like she was parroting off a sales brochure. Eventually,
exhaustion crept up on me, and I did my best to nap while we sped in our little flying
tin can across the expanse of the United States.
Once we drew close to our destination, the flight attendant explained we were about
to arrive at the Santa Monica airport, and that Mr. Royce had made arrangements for
our pick-up and transportation to our destination. I stared out the window as we approached,
noting the nearby ocean and pier and all of the tiny buildings and cars looking like
toy models from this height. As we drew closer, I grew more and more nervous. Eventually
I pulled the shade over the window and clutched at the armrests of my seat, closing
my eyes. Sara laughed at me, but I didn’t care. Much.
The landing jarred us a little bit, but we arrived in one piece, so I couldn’t complain.
Once we were on the ground, I opened the window again, peering out. The plane taxied
off of the runway and into a huge, whitewashed hangar, the big door sliding shut once
the plane stopped inside. A few minutes later, duffel slung over my shoulder, Sara
and I stepped onto the gleaming white floor, glittering with polish that reflected
the lamps high above our heads.
A gentleman in a suit and reflective shades was waiting for us, gesturing that we
should follow him. He didn’t bother to wait to see if we did as we were bid. When
I checked over my shoulder, someone else had grabbed the rest of our bags. Sara and
I exchanged a look, then shrugged and followed.
He led us across the huge bay of the hangar, empty save for the plane we’d arrived
in, and out through a people-sized door on the other side. An ocean-scented breeze
whipped my hair around. Once I brushed it back, I was greeted by the sight of a sleek
white limo. The man who had led us out was now holding the limo door and waiting for
us, his expression clearly indicating he was bored and unimpressed with us. Though
I knew he was impatient to get out of here, I took a moment to look around. This was
my first time in Santa Monica, after all.
The nearby mountains were oddly brown and dead—nothing like the vibrant greens of
the Catskills. The sky was alive with a splash of strange oranges and reds, a sunset
like nothing I’d ever seen back East. Palm trees were everywhere. Funny looking cacti mixed with some weird flowers that had long green stems, nearly
as tall as I was, topped with spiky orange and dark purplish flowers, planted alongside
the building, sprucing up the otherwise plain white structure. A touch of the wild
in the otherwise carefully deliberate landscaping.
Sara entered the limo, and I soon followed suit. The man shut the door behind us,
and I heard the luggage being tossed in the trunk. Despite the more than generous
size of the passenger area, which probably could have fit half a dozen people comfortably,
it was claustrophobic in the plush interior of that limo, and neither of us wanted
to speak.
Soon, the driver got in, turning his head just enough to acknowledge our existence.
“Mr. Seabreeze extends his welcome. He’s hosting a party in your honor tonight. You’ll
be staying in the guesthouse. We can stop there first if you’d prefer to freshen up,
but he was very insistent that he would like to meet you right away.”
“I would rather meet him first.”
Sara didn’t see any reason to delay meeting our host either. “So would I. If we’re
going to be stuck here for a while, I
onto was sleek, pristine, and full of so many gadgets and amenities that I was afraid
to touch anything inside in case it might break. Sara was more at home, staying in
her seat and reading a book while I prowled around the cabin.
A flight attendant came in at one point to see if we needed anything and tried to
show me what a few of the doodads did, but it wasn’t as fun to poke around with someone
following me around and sounding like she was parroting off a sales brochure. Eventually,
exhaustion crept up on me, and I did my best to nap while we sped in our little flying
tin can across the expanse of the United States.
Once we drew close to our destination, the flight attendant explained we were about
to arrive at the Santa Monica airport, and that Mr. Royce had made arrangements for
our pick-up and transportation to our destination. I stared out the window as we approached,
noting the nearby ocean and pier and all of the tiny buildings and cars looking like
toy models from this height. As we drew closer, I grew more and more nervous. Eventually
I pulled the shade over the window and clutched at the armrests of my seat, closing
my eyes. Sara laughed at me, but I didn’t care. Much.
The landing jarred us a little bit, but we arrived in one piece, so I couldn’t complain.
Once we were on the ground, I opened the window again, peering out. The plane taxied
off of the runway and into a huge, whitewashed hangar, the big door sliding shut once
the plane stopped inside. A few minutes later, duffel slung over my shoulder, Sara
and I stepped onto the gleaming white floor, glittering with polish that reflected
the lamps high above our heads.
A gentleman in a suit and reflective shades was waiting for us, gesturing that we
should follow him. He didn’t bother to wait to see if we did as we were bid. When
I checked over my shoulder, someone else had grabbed the rest of our bags. Sara and
I exchanged a look, then shrugged and followed.
He led us across the huge bay of the hangar, empty save for the plane we’d arrived
in, and out through a people-sized door on the other side. An ocean-scented breeze
whipped my hair around. Once I brushed it back, I was greeted by the sight of a sleek
white limo. The man who had led us out was now holding the limo door and waiting for
us, his expression clearly indicating he was bored and unimpressed with us. Though
I knew he was impatient to get out of here, I took a moment to look around. This was
my first time in Santa Monica, after all.
The nearby mountains were oddly brown and dead—nothing like the vibrant greens of
the Catskills. The sky was alive with a splash of strange oranges and reds, a sunset
like nothing I’d ever seen back East. Palm trees were everywhere. Funny looking cacti mixed with some weird flowers that had long green stems, nearly
as tall as I was, topped with spiky orange and dark purplish flowers, planted alongside
the building, sprucing up the otherwise plain white structure. A touch of the wild
in the otherwise carefully deliberate landscaping.
Sara entered the limo, and I soon followed suit. The man shut the door behind us,
and I heard the luggage being tossed in the trunk. Despite the more than generous
size of the passenger area, which probably could have fit half a dozen people comfortably,
it was claustrophobic in the plush interior of that limo, and neither of us wanted
to speak.
Soon, the driver got in, turning his head just enough to acknowledge our existence.
“Mr. Seabreeze extends his welcome. He’s hosting a party in your honor tonight. You’ll
be staying in the guesthouse. We can stop there first if you’d prefer to freshen up,
but he was very insistent that he would like to meet you right away.”
“I would rather meet him first.”
Sara didn’t see any reason to delay meeting our host either. “So would I. If we’re
going to be stuck here for a while, I
Similar Books
