All of Your Business, page 3
Didi wished he would keep sharing. She wasn’t trying to pry, but maybe talking to a stranger would relieve some of his Jungian load. She kept her gaze on her coffee instead of Ben’s face. Too much eye contact might spook him.
“My brother’s nightmares all have the same plot,” she said. “They never change. He is being chased in a desolate area by a pack of...something. Sometimes it’s men, sometimes it’s animals, and he can’t find anywhere to hide. Are yours always the same? Or do they change?”
Silence lingered between them. Eventually, it felt like dead weight. Simply-Ben wasn’t going to answer her questions.
Could Didi blame him? Not really. But it never hurt to give people the option to talk about what was bothering them.
She opened her book to the page marked with her airline ticket stub. The heroine was globetrotting to get over her heartbreak. The hero chased after her. They had just left the Philippines and headed for Hawaii, trading one archipelago for another.
Hawaii was also on Didi’s travel list. Anywhere tropical, really. After Diego finished college, she would give herself permission to take a real vacation. She hadn’t been anywhere since she broke up with Daniel. Had it actually been four years?
“When I was ten years old, I was kidnapped.”
Ben’s comment barely reached her ears. Unsure if she heard correctly, Didi wrenched her gaze from her novel. “For real? Or is that your nightmare?”
He looked over at her. “For real.”
Didi closed the book. If she pushed for details, Ben might clam up again. But she felt like she had to say something.
“We don’t have to talk about it,” she insisted. “Although, it might help if you did. If my abuela were here, she would advise you to describe what’s in your nightmares. It sets your alebrijes free.”
Ben tilted closer like he hadn’t heard her. “My what?”
“Alebrijes,” she repeated. “The magical creatures that inhabit your dreams. By talking about them, you give them form, and giving them form sets them free. If you free your alebrijes, then you’ll stop having those nightmares. According to folklore,” she added. “And my abuela. Grandmas know everything.”
Ben’s perplexed look was borderline adorable. “You believe this?”
She shrugged. “I don’t have bad dreams.”
“Then you’re fortunate.” His fingers toyed with the lime wedge on his tray table. “Mine are always about the kidnapping. It’s like my subconscious won’t let me forget.”
“What happened, if you don’t mind my asking?”
Before answering, Ben checked the cabin. Their plane neighbors were sacked out or plugged in. Above the drone of the engines, they would need to holler for anyone else to hear them.
Ben cleared his throat again. “A man grabbed me whilst I was leaving school. It happened so fast, nobody saw. The police said the men – there were three altogether – had been monitoring our family for months. They kept me locked in a shed at a farm in Hertfordshire. I was only there for two days.”
“Only?” Didi balked at his nonchalant attitude. “That sounds like two days too long.”
“The men weren’t unkind. I never suffered. They left me plenty of food and water. There was a sink and toilet inside the shed. The police believe it was built for that purpose, to keep me alive but well hidden.” Ben recited the details like they were statistics on a spreadsheet. “When my mother paid the ransom, they released me. They drove me to a cornfield and left me at its edge. That’s the nightmare,” he added. “I’m in the field, and no one comes to get me.”
The scenario made Didi cringe. “How long did you have to wait to be rescued?”
“The police collected me just after dawn on the third morning.”
She pictured any of her brothers in the same situation. That only made it worse. Cornfields were creepy in broad daylight. “You spent the whole night alone?”
“I did. The men gave me a torch. A flashlight, that is. And it was summer, so the sun rose early.”
“You must have been frightened.”
“A bit,” he admitted. “Once it got dark, I started singing. I sang every song I could think of even though my voice is rubbish. Pop songs. Nursery rhymes. Hymns I’d learned at school. I sang them over and over. I sang myself hoarse, and then I mouthed the words until I heard voices call my name from the road.”
Didi imagined Ben as a boy singing alone in the dark. Anguish swelled inside her. “Please tell me they caught the kidnappers.”
“All of them within the week.”
She exhaled with relief. Thank God for that. Crimes against children should never go unpunished. But a trauma like Ben’s could scar a person for life – and a family as well. His parents must have been holding their breath until he and his brother were fully grown.
“I’m sorry that happened to you,” she said.
“At least it had a happy ending. Good thing, too. My father had died a few months before, and my brother wasn’t handling it well. None of us were, really, but Kip isn’t like me. He feels things much more intensely. If my situation had ended differently...” Ben didn’t finish the sentence.
“But it did. And y’all survived.” Didi touched his arm again. “And now your alebrije is free.”
“Ah-lay-bree-hay.” Ben practiced the word, his pronunciation drenched with Britishness.
“Muy bien,” she told him. “¿Habla español?”
His almost-smile reappeared. “Now you’ve lost me.”
“I asked if you speak Spanish. I think I know the answer.” She winked.
“Languages were never my forte.” Ben folded his arms and stretched out his legs like he might try to fall back asleep.
Didi’s envy resurfaced. Maybe she couldn’t sleep because she wasn’t trying. She hadn’t put on the padded sleep mask from her free amenity kit or tested the effectiveness of the earplugs. She would use the toothbrush and toothpaste after breakfast. She had stashed the rest of the kit’s contents for later. The cozy socks and skincare products would come in handy at the hotel.
Besides, with only three hours to go, was sleeping even worth the effort? She would have to wake up to eat breakfast. She still hadn’t finished her novel. Maybe she could take a nap after her presentation was over. It was the only thing on her schedule.
When Ben’s leg bumped his tray table, rattling its glass, Didi grazed his arm with her fingers. “Want me to put that on my tray table?” When he nodded, she moved it. “Aren’t you going to want breakfast?”
Ben adjusted his pillow. “I’ll grab something in the airport.”
Didi stopped herself from offering him a granola bar. Now who was the abuela? Ben didn’t need babying. He wasn’t one of her brothers, but old habits were hard to break. She had helped her mama raise Alejo and Diego while she was still a kid herself.
“Didi?”
Ben’s urbane voice made her perky, childhood nickname sound almost alluring. She wished he would say it again.
He offered the closest thing she’d seen to a smile. “Thank you for listening.”
Staring back at him, Didi grinned. Ben’s turquoise eyes were soulful. Now she understood why. Boyhood trauma. Lost father. Growing up, she watched her brothers endure those things. They survived but not without scars.
Because of them, she needed to stay focused. In London, she had two goals. Win the bid. Earn the promotion. She would give her presentation, close the deal, and be back in Lafayette by Saturday.
Next Monday, God willing, she’d be sliding a new title beneath the nameplate outside her office.
Vice President. At twenty-nine.
Chapter Three
While the plane taxied down the runway, Ben switched his phone out of airplane mode. Instantly, it began to pulsate and buzz, inundated by emails and texts. On any other day, he welcomed the sound.
On this one, it seemed oddly inconvenient.
So was his earlier episode. He never had nightmares in public. Granted, he rarely slept in such close quarters with a captive audience. But if his dream had concluded as most usually did, he would have awakened the entire cabin.
Ben cringed at how poorly that could have ended. Video voyeurism was at an all-time high. Airplanes, in particular, seemed rife with passengers eager to see their recordings go viral. Filming anything remotely out of the ordinary had become society’s new norm.
Film it. Post it. Wait for the likes.
There was no such thing as privacy.
All the more reason for him to feel indebted to Didi. If he had persisted in his earlier strop and refused to give up his spare seat, Didi wouldn’t have been there to wake him. And he would have only himself to blame.
Ben felt compelled to express his thanks. Words hardly seemed sufficient
Should he ask Didi to join him for dinner?
The possibility distracted him almost as much as her physical presence. She looked as fresh and ready for the day as she did when the plane left Atlanta. Her floral perfume subdued other less-pleasant scents that permeated an airplane cabin. Her boots were back on her feet, her makeup neatly reapplied.
Ben knew he wasn’t half so presentable. His clothes were wrinkled. He needed a shave. Flying never did him any favors.
Didi Velasquez had done him a great one.
The least he could do was treat her to a meal. Or make the effort to ask. She might have a partner. Or need to work through the evening. He used that last excuse quite often himself.
To his knowledge, he had nothing scheduled after hours unless his mother had arranged the commitment. Ben hated it when she commandeered his diary. She did so rarely but without apology.
Ben glanced over at Didi. She used her mobile, too.
Perhaps he shouldn’t ask her to dinner. Hadn’t Didi said it already? Work came first. That’s why she was flying to London.
Ben’s phone continued to vibrate which meant his own workload was growing. Scrolling through his emails, he read them chronologically and mentally cataloged their importance. He would wait to send any replies until he was through customs and in the car.
A new message arrived, causing Ben’s phone to shimmy in an S-O-S pattern. Although his mother had already sent a dozen texts, she would keep at it until he replied. The latest was also the briefest.
Let me know when you land.
Ben tapped the empty reply bar. Landed. Still on plane. Who’s collecting?
Yannick
Ben greeted the news with an approving nod. Yannick was far more than a bodyguard. At six foot four and eighteen stone, he certainly looked the part. Over the years, however, Yannick had become like one of the family, and he joined them for dinner most Sundays. Kip even asked him to be a groomsman at the wedding.
Ben intended to do the same – unless he remained “still a bachelor” forever.
If he didn’t want that, steps must be taken. Starting with asking someone out to dinner. Someone like the woman seated next to him.
Ben’s phone pulsed S-O-S again.
Presentation is set for 2 pm. Do not be late.
Briefly, he lifted his gaze to the ceiling. Once a mother, always a mother.
When am I ever? he typed. Must tidy up first.
Mr Akamba is here. So is Montgomery.
Remind me again why we’re doing this? RE has no interest in gold mines. We should be concentrating on sustainable energy, not bidding on insolvent mining schemes.
Mr Akamba is a friend. Our bid creates competition with DEI. I meet with accountants re foundation at noon. Eat something hearty in the car. Lunch seems unlikely.
Ben snorted as though she could hear him. Please tell me you don’t plan to coddle me now that Kip is married. If you need something to fuss over, get a puppy. I’m already fully house trained.
A trio of ellipses rippled for several seconds. Point taken. See you at noon.
Good. She understood him. That didn’t always happen.
She also didn’t mention any after-hours commitments. Nothing showed in his diary, either.
Which meant his evening was free.
Removing his glasses, Ben stole another glance at Didi while the plane taxied down the runway. How might she react to a dinner invitation from a stranger who wouldn’t give his last name? His pre-flight behavior had been wretchedly rude. Not his finest hour, indeed.
Truth be told, he blamed his mother. He had inherited her fastidious nature and zealous devotion to work. In their brains, the family business trumped most anything else. That included people and their feelings.
Kip, on the other hand, was entirely like their father – jovial and easygoing. A bit impulsive, perhaps, but affable enough to get away with his tomfoolery. Kip charmed and cheered others with effortless panache. He even seemed to enjoy it.
Ben’s first impression of Didi had slotted her more into his brother’s domain. She was friendly. Approachable. Calm in a cock-up. Well-suited for public relations.
Then came her shared-row negotiation. It hinted at something more intrepid. Although forthright in her terms, she never lost her good humor.
Perhaps Didi was the best of both worlds.
Even if Ben didn’t invite her to dinner, he knew he ought to apologize. Clearing his throat, he said her name. She looked over with a ready smile.
“I’m sorry for my behavior before we left Atlanta. I acted like a right proper git.”
When Didi tilted her head, her thick ponytail rippled. “What does that mean? Git?”
Ben nearly laughed. Would he actually be required to explain? It served him right. “A git is a rude, unpleasant person.”
“Oh. Grosero.” Didi’s smile widened. “Apology accepted.”
Ben exhaled. First objective accomplished. Now for the second.
A series of electronic dings cut him off. Hubbub erupted while the captain’s garbled announcement went mostly unheard. Seatbelts clattered as passengers unlatched them. Overhead bins whooshed open. Some travelers practically volleyed from their seats to blockade the aisles with their bodies.
Didi was one of them. She popped up to reclaim her sizeable straw bag with assistance from a man across the aisle. With a hasty see-you-later, she rushed to the front of the queue.
Was she that eager to put some space between them?
Apparently so. She was first off the plane while Ben was still stowing his tablet inside his briefcase. At least he’d been able to apologize. He could begin the day with a clear conscience.
The plane landed slightly ahead of schedule which ensured Ben would reach Richmond Tower with ample time to tidy up and shave. In the car, he could eat a proper breakfast. Respond to emails. Reintegrate into his daily rhythm. Work, sleep, swim, eat. Repeat.
The routine brought him comfort. But was he in a bit of a rut? Apart from Kip’s wedding and bank holidays, he’d spent the last several years – weekends often included – following the same timetable. Public transport wasn’t half so predictable.
Kip would accuse him of having no imagination. And Ben would disagree. He wasn’t dull-witted. He simply found nothing that intrigued him more than working.
Until now. And he’d utterly bodged it. Didi had bolted before he could ask her to dinner.
The bolting was enough of a clue. If she wished to keep chatting, she would have hung back. Probably best that she hadn’t. It wasn’t fair to expect another person to integrate into his routine. He would need to be adaptable just as Didi had said.
Not his forte whatsoever.
Glad to be in familiar territory, Ben wound his way through Heathrow’s somber corridors. A recorded British voice issued safety reminders above the scrape of heels and luggage. Even the sterilized smell was comforting. England was home, and home was England.
Ben searched for Didi among the stream of people shuffling like travel-weary mice through a maze. Occasional words and arrows prompted them onward. Border Control was their next destination.
In the massive hall, Ben looked for Didi again. The queue for non-U.K. residents was daunting. The queue for U.K. residents was insubstantial. Unless he dawdled in the hall, which wasn’t encouraged, Ben would be in the car with Yannick before Didi reached baggage claim.
Why was that thought so disconcerting?
Because he was unlikely to see her again.
In the baggage area, Ben found an empty patch of wall near his flight’s assigned carousel. Leaning against it, he secured his briefcase behind his feet and began responding to emails. Work never really ended. It merely ebbed and flowed like water levels on the Thames Tideway.
“Hey there. Are you busy?”
Startled, Ben looked up to find Didi smiling at him. How had she gotten through Border Control so quickly?
“No,” he blurted. “Not at all. That is, it’s nothing I can’t do later.” He pocked his phone without completing an email. “How is it you’re here already? That queue you were in was massive.”
“I had an insider tip from our flight attendant.” Didi wiggled her eyebrows rather proudly. “She said if I hustled to stay ahead of the crowd, I’d make it to the front of the line. That’s why I hightailed it off the plane.”
Ben didn’t recall the conversation. He must have been asleep.
But now he was awake. And Didi had found him. He was excessively pleased to see her.
And if he didn’t ask her out immediately, he was an absolute plonker.
“Would you like to go to dinner?” His words were more rushed than he would have preferred.
It was Didi’s turn to act taken aback. “Oh. Yeah. Sure. Tonight?”
Ben readied himself for rejection. “If you’re busy, I understand.”
“No, I’m not busy. Not this evening. Not that my boss has told me.”
“Right.” Ben fumbled for what to say next. He had no tactical plan of action. “I’d be happy to collect you from your hotel if you’re comfortable with that.”
“Why would that make me uncomfortable?”
Ben assumed it should be obvious. “You don’t know me. You don’t know London. Rather chancy, isn’t it?”
“I’m a fairly good judge of character,” she said. “And we just spent the night together.”
