Deadbeat

LAYTON

“Welcome to New York, sir. We hope you’ll be traveling with us again soon.” A perky flight attendant said with a winning smile. Her name tag told me her name was Cindy.

I hadn’t seen her during the flight, but that hardly meant anything. I spent the entire time rehearsing what I would say to Brice when I finally saw him, alternating between all-consuming rage and total confusion.

“Thank you, Cindy,” I told her absently, disembarking the plane in a city I hadn’t been to for a long time. I couldn’t believe I was returning here for Brice, of all people.

After my father’s video, shock kept me immobile for a couple of hours. I paced up and down, may have turned over a few tables, and finally, decided to take Dad’s advice. For once.

If Marissa had a dark and battered past because of Brice, I needed to talk to him. To do the right thing, so to speak. I should have spoken to Marissa, but by the time I realized I’d long since missed our date, I didn’t know what to say to her.

I was wor