I HAD BEEN UP ONCE ALREADY WHEN THE ALARM went off, so the banging on the door confused me. If I had already gotten up, what was I doing still in bed?

“Alexandra, are you in there?”

It was Tristan. That much I knew. I lay on my back in total darkness, which confused me even more because my eyes were open. The one thing I was completely sure of was how much my head hurt. I reached up to touch it to see how it could be the size of a basketball and found a damp washcloth on my face. It had probably started out cold but was now tepid, cooked by the sick heat radiating from my skin.

More banging from the vicinity of the door, each loud blast registering in my entire body like a seismic event. “Wakeup, girl.”

I peeled the washcloth off and took a couple of daggers to the deep cortex as the light hit my eyes.Make the pounding stop was the only thought that emerged-the pounding on the door and in my head. Everything felt wrong. My heartbeat was too fast. My breathing was too shallow. I was cold, and I was hot.

“Alexandra, do I have to-”

I cleared the rubble from my throat. “I’m coming. Hold on.”

“Thank God. If you’re not completely dressed and ready to walk out this door, you areso in trouble.”

It took all the focus I could gather to sit up and push myself to the edge of the bed, where I had to pause to see if I could stand up without throwing up. Tristan was yammering about being late, and I knew I was, and about people waiting, and I was sure that was true, but all I could think about was whether my legs would support me if I tried to stand up and walk across the room.

They did. I even managed the strength to turn the knob and open the door. The dead bolt was not engaged, and I had a fleeting thought about how stupid that was and how drunk I must have been to forget to lock it. Or not to worry enough to lock it.

The door flew open, and Tristan bolted into the room. He was in uniform, looking marvelously groomed for…

“What time is it?”

“It’s five twenty-fiveA.M., and you’re due to leave on the five-thirty shuttle to the airport. Seven thirty-five departure. Hello? Is any of this ringing any bells?”

He disappeared into the bathroom. When he came back, he had two of those squatty hotel room glasses filled to the brim with water. He balanced them both in one hand and carried my toiletry bag in the other.

“Sit down before you pass out again, and drink both of these. Every drop. Then go into the bathroom and throw some cold water on your face.” He checked his watch. “We have exactly four minutes before the courtesy van leaves. Everyone is downstairs waiting, and they will leave without us and never look back.”

I did what he commanded and watched as he shifted into emergency mode, flying around the room, gathering my things. I was wearing my uniform except for my shoes, which was the good news. The bad news was it looked as if I’d slept in it, and I had a dim recollection of coming in last night, which had actually been this morning, and putting it on so I wouldn’t have to worry about it later.

Tristan plucked my jeans from the floor. “You should have listened to me.” He smoothed them on the bed and did a nice trifold. “I never should have let you come home by yourself.” He fit the jeans into my crew kit and looked around the room. “Once you’re past the point of no return, which you most definitely were, it’s better to stay up all night.” He spotted one of my shoes peeking out from under the bedspread and snatched it out. “We should have gone somewhere for eggs.”

Drinking the water helped. Listening to him talk about eggs did not. I found my way to the bathroom, but when I looked in the mirror, more confusion. It wasn’t me. It was my face with someone else’s hair. No…wait. Itwas my hair. I had changed the color. Gone blond, sort of, in that color-out-of-a-box way, something Sally had been nice enough to point out.

“Fix your face at the airport, dear. We have to go. Chop-chop.”

I took a last look in the mirror, trying to see myself objectively, as, say, a passenger might see me. I looked the way I always did when I’d had too much to drink. Bloodshot eyes floating on puffy dark pillows underneath. In fact, my entire face was puffy except for where it flattened into a network of tiny lines at the corner of each eye. The lines were more pronounced today than I had ever seen them.“Nice outfit. It’s so…young for you.”

“What about this computer?” Tristan called in from the other room. “Is it one of those where I can close the lid and go? Did you leave it on like this all night?”

Computer? My computer was on? Why was it-

“No. Don’t touch it.” I flew out of the bathroom. From across the room, he turned and looked at me, then at the computer on the desk.

“I’m surprised you can move that fast. What have you been doing that you don’t want me to see?”

There was no telling, but if I’d had it out and turned it on, chances were good I’d at least tried to record what-if anything-I had learned at the party. I powered down, folded the laptop, stuck it in my backpack, and then pulled it out again because I remembered something. Something important. I found my A drive, pressed the release, and the disk popped out.

“Well,” Tristan said, “it’s good to finally see a smile.”

It was good to feel a smile again. The disk I had swiped from Bouncer Guy popped right out. I had the list from the party.

“Dear, did you know Angel would be at this shindig last night?”

“No. Why would you think that?”

“What did she say to you when she whispered in your ear?”

“I can’t remember.”

“I told you once, and I’ll tell you again. Stay away from her. She’s dangerous.”

“Is she a lesbian?”

He laughed as he picked up my case, dropped it to the floor, and telescoped the handle. “No, dear. She’s just always hungry, and she doesn’t care who she eats. Are you ready? We are going to be so late.”

We weren’t late. In fact, for all the pounding and worrying and racing around, we arrived early for the departure. While the rest of our crew went down to the lounge, Tristan insisted that we board the aircraft early. The only other person onboard was the captain, and the second he disappeared into the lav, Tristan grabbed me and pulled me into the empty cockpit.

“Here.” He offered me the captain’s oxygen mask. “Take this. Oxygen is great for a hangover.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.” I stared at the mask in his hand, the one they use for emergencies, like…when the plane is on fire. “I can’t do that.”

“You areso management.” He peeked past me to check the cabin-empty-and lowered his voice anyway. “You need to be perfect today, Alexandra, and so far you’re not off to a good start.”

The urgency in his tone seemed to convey far more concern than was warranted by my headache. “Why perfect? What’s going on?”

Again with a quick look over my shoulder. Nothing back there but a long, empty tube. “There’s a ghost rider on this trip.”

“What’s a ghost-is that a check rider?”

“Undercover check rider is what that is. We don’t know if she’s in first or coach or what she looks like, and they might have put her on to watch you, so-” He pushed the mask toward my face. “It’s up to you. Break a rule or lose your job.”

This time, I checked for the captain myself, but he had taken a newspaper in with him. I grabbed the mask. This day was getting worse by the minute. “How do you know about this?”

“Oxygen? It’s an old trick. Everybody knows-”

“How do you know about the check rider?”

“I told you. I still have connections from my management days. Hurry up before he comes back. Put it over your nose and mouth and breathe, just like the PA says.”

I held the mask to my face and filled my lungs with pure oxygen. It made me dizzy.