He wants me to get rid of Rene for him. I smile. “How’s school going?”

“Finish this quarter and then I’m out of here. I’m going to grad school at UCLA.”

“LAX. Much better airport. You can further you career.” Rene says.

A car enters the airport drop-off loop. Rene runs the four steps to the curb and holds out her thumb. God, she is obnoxious this morning. The car drives past. Rene laughs uproariously. She can be so childish at times.

She sinks down beside me on the bench. “Wow, that was fun. Now what, Chrissie?”

I try to focus on my book. I’ve got an entire carryon full of books I have to read before break is over, since I’ve procrastinated most of the quarter because I spent most of my hours preoccupied and teary over my break-up with Brad. But I don’t really feel like reading and who the hell ever feels like reading Chekhov? Why did I pick Chekhov from the book list? I hate Chekhov. I turn a page.

Rene is walking along the mow-strip like a gymnast on a balance beam. We really are an odd match as friends. I’m sitting beside a cello reading Chekhov, and she finished the entire spring semester reading list in one week, got a perfect score on her SATs, and is now flashing her panties at Steve the Valet, though pretending it’s an accident each time she pretends to wobble on her beam.

I hear a car in the drop-off loop. Rene jumps off her beam and is back at the curb again. It’s a Town Car with tinted windows, from the local limo service, and now Rene is really amped since it must be Mr. Lear Jet. She has her leg out toward the road this time and is doing a little swish with her hips as she holds out her thumb. The car moves past her and continues on its way to the turn in for the tarmac.

“Maybe I should have flashed a little?” Rene jerks at her shirt. She looks at Steve. “What do you think?”

Steve nods his head toward the road. “I think flashing your panties worked. He’s coming back around.”

“HOLY SHIT!” Rene shouts. She laughs and drops down beside me on the bench. She tries to look innocent. “Oh god, oh god, oh god don’t let it be a friend of my parents,” she whispers to herself.

A little late to worry about that, Rene. It could very well be a friend of the Thompsons. The limo crowd in Santa Barbara is definitely their set. No one travels by limo here. Such a pretentious thing to do when everything in town is only five minutes away.

The Town Car stops. The door opens before the driver can come around to open it. I focus on my book.

“Holy shit,” Rene whispers again.

“Chrissie?”

A low voice, sexy and surprised. Holy shit is right. Alan Manzone is above me, staring down at me after Rene just flashed him her panties. How awful is that?

I shake my head to gather my wits. “Hello Mr. Whoever You Are.”

He laughs. “I thought I’d be Alan after last night.”

Rene’s mouth drops. I feel my cheeks burn. To distract myself from Rene, who is behind him mouthing the words ‘pool house,’ I reach down and shove my book back into my bag.

“Why are you sitting on a bench reading while your friend flashes her panties at cars?” he asks, sensual lips curled in amusement. “You left for the airport hours ago. I expected you to be halfway to New York by now.”

“Fog delay. You must be the private jet. How nice it must be to have the plane waiting for you and not to have to worry about the pesky delays of commercial travel.”

“Yes, non-proletarian travel does have its perks,” he acknowledges.

I glance behind him at Rene. She is really irritated with me because I haven’t introduced her. Before I can introduce her, he’s back at his car barking orders at the driver. Suddenly Alan’s luggage is pulled out and he’s gesturing for Steve to collect all the bags.

I stand up. “You know you’ve exited in the wrong place. The private entrance for non-proletarian is down there.”

He gives the airport a once-over. “It doesn’t look like it makes much of a difference here.”

Steve is grabbing all the bags: Rene’s, mine, Alan’s.

“Wait,” I protest. I rush over to Steve. “Leave those. Those are ours.”

“You’ll travel with me to New York, Chrissie,” he says. “I won’t leave you sitting on a bench in an airport.”

Whoa…. Did Alan Manzone really just invite us to travel to New York with him?

“Really, we can’t impose.”

Rene is practically having a seizure behind his back from that.

He raises his eyebrows. “Can’t or won’t? And it’s no imposition. I’m going to New York, Chrissie.”

Of all the reasons not to accept, the one that claims me isn’t the one I expect. Alan hasn’t factored in what six hours trapped in a private plane with Rene will be like for him. And I find that I don’t want him to find out, and I don’t want Rene, who gets every guy she wants, to get him.

“I won’t travel with you,” I say, ignoring Rene’s eyes that are now flashing at me.

He raises an eyebrow. He rubs his chin with a long index finger then runs his hand through his hair. “Did I do something that offended you last night?”

He looks unsure and Rene is listening mouth open.

“No. I enjoyed talking with you last night.” It’s the truth, but I need to send Alan on his way without us or I will be a mile high with Rene all over him. I know I’m being petty in that petty girl way, protecting my turf that isn’t even my turf, and having really unkind thoughts about my best friend. “Listen, you don’t have to do one of those ‘be nice to Jack’s daughter’ kind of favors. I was the one who behaved badly last night. I knew who you were the second my eyes opened and I thought it would be fun...”

His finger presses on my mouth to stop me. Oh crap, I’m in nervous chatter mode. Why is he smiling?

“Shush. Will you let me get in a word, Chrissie? You’re not confessing anything I don’t know. Your entire face lit up when you opened your eyes. It’s not a look I’m unfamiliar with. I knew you were playing and I played along. I just wanted to talk to you. Have a reasonable conversation without all the bullshit. I played along. I think it worked out very well.”

Oh crap, he saw right through every part of my game last night. I feel as though my knees are about to buckle.

He runs his index finger down my cheek. “This is not a ‘be nice to Jack’s daughter’ gesture. I like you, Chrissie. I consider us friends.”

I blink rapidly. “OK.”

He nods. “Good. Let’s get your things.”

I nod, not trusting myself to speak because I can feel that stupid crooked smile on my face, the lopsided one I can’t control that I get only when I’m really happy.

Alan turns to face Rene. “I’m Alan Manzone.”

“Rene Thompson.” She sounds stunned. I’ve never seen Rene lost for words before.

Those black eyes burn into her before he shifts away with hardly a look. Wow, no one ever looks away from Rene so dismissively. She is beautiful, like stop cars on State Street beautiful. All guys love Rene.

“It’s a long flight. I need to sleep,” Alan says to Rene over his shoulder. “If you must speak to me call me Manny. You call me Alan I’ll have you tossed from the plane even if we’re at twenty thousand feet.”

I’ve never seen Rene’s eyes so large. Rene cowed by a guy. I never expected to see that.

It is really very bad of me to enjoy her discomfort. I feel myself smiling. “What will you do to me if I call you Alan?”

He grins. “You get tossed from the plane if you call me Manny.”

Oh my. There was definitely something in his voice when he said that and I feel my crooked smile growing larger. I bite my lip. “Your own nicely organized system?”

“Yes, my own nicely organized system,” he responds, and there is a pleasant, secretive note to that comment.

He leans over for my book bag and hands it to me. He picks up my cello and gestures to Steve. We walk through the airport amid heavy stares, as Steve guides us to the private tarmac exit.