Early Wednesday morning, Swithin was startled awake by his cell phone.  He picked it up and checked the number.

“Mr. Bennett?”  Swithin questioned sleepily into the phone.

“Morning, kid.  Listen to me.  I don’t have much time.  Get up, get dressed and start driving down the coast toward Santa Cruz. Call me when you reach Moss Beach.”  Mr. Bennett hung up.

Swithin looked at his alarm clock—It was 6:00 am.  

Swithin left his house around six thirty and started driving down the coast along Cabrillo Highway.  Once he reached Moss Beach he veered off the highway, parked and called Mr. Bennett.

“I’m near Moss Beach, sir,“ Swithin spoke into the phone. “Sitting just off the highway in front of…” Swithin stopped mid-sentence, leaned over and looked out the passenger side window, “…the ‘Historic Moss Beach Distillery’ billboard.”

“Good,” Mr. Bennett said.  “Just over the hill is the Half Moon Bay Airport.  In the terminal building, there’s a restaurant called the Three-Zero Café, you can’t miss it.  Park out front and meet me inside.”

The Three-Zero Café filled the area across from the airport office, immediately left of the terminal building entrance.  Model planes hung from its ceiling, pictures of World War II fighters filled its walls and, although it had seating for about forty, Mr. Bennett was their only customer.

“Good to see you!” Mr. Bennett said to Swithin as he gestured at a seat across from him.  “Sit down, order something.” He hailed the waiter.

A waiter with a generous smile walked up to the table.  “Name’s Mike.  Do you know what you want, or do you need some time to look at the menu?”

Swithin smiled awkwardly at the waiter, and then glanced down at the menu.  “I’ll have the continental breakfast.”

“A croissant, orange juice and coffee, coming right up,” the waiter confirmed dutifully, as he wrote down Swithin’s order.

“Thanks,” Swithin said.  He unfolded his napkin and draped it over his lap, then looked up at Mr. Bennett.  “Are you eating anything?”

“I ordered a breakfast burrito to go.  How are things?”

Swithin took a breath.  “Megan came by the guesthouse Monday morning.”

Mr. Bennett cleared his throat.  “You don’t say?”

Swithin continued.  “She wanted to now where you were.”

“What’d you tell her?” 

“That I didn’t know.  What else?”

“How’d she find you?”

“She followed me home from work.”

“That little bitch!” Mr. Bennett exclaimed.

“My thought exactly,” Swithin commented.

Mr. Bennett looked out the window and scanned the parking lot. “I knew she’d be desperate to find me.  But, I never thought she’d stoop to tailing my assistant.” 

Swithin sighed.  “I got the impression she didn’t know where you lived.”

Mr. Bennett huffed.  “She doesn’t.”

“I thought you two were dating?”

“You’d be surprised what questions a girlfriend doesn’t ask when you spend a lot of money on her.  We spent time at her house, hotels and resorts.  That’s just the way it was.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, why not just show your face and work things out with her.  Get the company back on track and iron things out with the investors?”

Mr. Bennett gave Swithin a cockeyed look.  “What the fuck are you talking about, kid?”

“Megan told me about your agreement with the investors.”

Mr. Bennett leaned in toward Swithin.  “I like you kid.  But, don’t question how I do business.”

Swithin looked away from Mr. Bennett.  “I’m sorry, sir.”

“Just don’t let it happen again.”

“I won’t.”

Mr. Bennett took a breath.  “Did you take that lady of yours to dinner?”

Swithin looked at Mr. Bennett sheepishly.  “Not yet.”

“Why not?”

“I haven’t got around to it…  But I will.”

“Take your lady to dinner.  There’s no sense in dating a woman if you don’t treat her like one.”

“Understood, sir.”

The waiter returned to the table with Swithin’s croissant, orange juice and coffee, and handed Mr. Bennett his breakfast burrito wrapped tight in tin foil.

Mr. Bennett handed the waiter a twenty-dollar bill.  “Keep the change.”

“Thank you!” The waiter replied graciously as he walked away.

Someone called Mr. Bennett’s name from across the room. 

Swithin turned and saw an attractive blond woman in blue jeans and a white roll neck sweater. 

“The Cessna’s preflight check is complete and your bags are stowed,” the woman said. “We can leave whenever you’re ready.”

“Who’s that?” Swithin asked Mr. Bennett.

“Sandy. She’s my pilot.”

“So you’re flying out?”

Mr. Bennett grabbed his burrito and stood up.  “I am.”

“Will I see you again?”

Mr. Bennett smiled.  “If all works out, I should be back in a week.”

“And if all doesn’t work out?”  Swithin questioned.

Mr. Bennett winked at Swithin.  “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.  For now, wish me luck.”

Swithin smiled.  “Good luck, sir.”

As Mr. Bennett was leaving the terminal building he paused and looked back at Swithin.  “Say, would you do me a favor?”

Swithin stood up.  “Absolutely.”

“Let Megan know we’re through, romantically speaking.”

“I’d be surprised if she thought otherwise.  Still, it’d be my pleasure to pass on a reminder.”

Mr. Bennett continued. “And, if she comes by the house again, call the police and have her arrested for trespassing.”

After Mr. Bennett left, Swithin sat back down and took a sip of his orange juice.  Then, he ripped off a piece of his croissant and ate it.  Ten minutes later, as he was finishing off the last sip of his coffee he turned and saw Megan walking in—she was talking on her cell phone.

“I lost him near Moss Beach, back tracked and saw his car parked outside,” Megan looked over at Swithin. “No…  He’s here. Let me get back to you.”  She flipped her cell phone shut.  “I thought we had a deal!”  She exclaimed angrily as she approached Swithin.

“We did,” Swithin snapped back. “You were supposed to stop following me!”

Megan stopped in front of Swithin and crossed her arms.  “Where’s Dave?”

“His plane left ten minutes ago,” Swithin replied as he licked the tip of his index finger and used it to pick up the crumbs of his croissant.

“Where did he go?”

Swithin licked the crumbs off his index finger.  “He didn’t say and I didn’t ask…  He did ask me to tell you something though.”

“What’s that?”

“You might want to sit down.”  Swithin gestured toward at the chair across from his.

Megan rolled her eyes, pulled out the chair and sat down.  “What?”

Swithin leaned in toward Megan.  “He wished he could have told you in person, but circumstances wouldn’t allow it.”  Swithin paused.

“Yes…  What is it?”

Swithin smiled.  “You and he are through, romantically speaking.”

Megan crossed her fingers, rested her forearms on the table and leaned in toward Swithin.  “You think you’re cute.  Truth is, you’re a punk—an arrogant smart-ass punk.  And, when all this settles I’m calling the police and having you looked into!”  Megan stood up and stomped off toward the airport office.

“I don’t work for you!” Swithin called out. “I work for Mr. Bennett.  As for the police, you’ve got nothing on me!”

Swithin stood up and started toward the front door, but stopped short and listened in on Megan as she talked to the desk clerk in the airport office.

“Oh come on,” Megan was saying.  “You can tell me where he went.” 

“I’m sorry lady, but I can’t.” The clerk pointed out the office window. “Its clear skies and VFR.”

Megan’s voice shifted to one of irritation.  “What the hell does VFR mean?”

“Visual Flight Rules.  Anything less than instrument conditions and the pilot doesn’t have to mention a thing to anyone, especially to me.  We don’t have a tower here; I just man the office and provide airport information.  That’s it.”

Megan stormed out of the office, pausing for a moment in front of Swithin.  “If you talk to Dave, let him know charges will be pressed!” 

“Charges?  What are you talking about?”

Megan pushed past Swithin and started walking toward the parking lot.

Swithin followed her out.  “What charges?”

Megan opened her car door, got in and paused, looking back at Swithin.  “Yesterday afternoon, your best boss ever transferred what was left of the investor’s money into an offshore account!” 

“You’re lying!” Swithin exclaimed in disbelief.

Megan huffed.  “Are you stupid?  He took off with the money and he’s not coming back!”  She slammed the door and peeled out of the parking lot.

Swithin stood for a moment with a stunned look on his face.  “He’s coming back.” He called weakly after her.

Chapter 28: Dinner with Amy >>