Frazer Lee - Panic Button

As she walked to Departures, Jo found herself fighting the urge to call her daughter, or to text and tell her she’d arrived at the airport. She stopped still in her tracks and pulled her mobile phone from her pocket, checking the little screen. No messages. Better to let Dawn get on with things, she’d only be reminding Sophie of her absence if she kept sending texts, and she hadn’t even checked in yet. She smiled, thinking about how Dawn must be spoiling Sophie to death already. Jo allowed herself a quick All2gthr.com status update before putting her phone away:

‘AT AIRPORT. NY HERE I COME!’

She wished she could have told her sister Maddie about the prize flight. She’d sent her an excited email of course, but it had bounced back unread. Maddie simply didn’t ‘do’ the Internet — a source of much frustration for Jo, especially as her sibling had taken off on a backpacking trip around the globe. Well, Jo was the globetrotter now.

She refreshed the screen, beaming as several online friends within her social network expressed their approval at her status update. To her delight, a couple of her workmates had noticed. They must be so jealous , thought Jo, placing the phone back in her pocket. She stepped through the revolving doors, with a spring in her stride and luggage trailing behind her, into the bright lights and noise of the Departures hall.

The airport concourse was alive with activity. Crowds of people darted this way and that, rushing to catch their flights. Tannoy announcements echoed in Jo’s ears, telling Mr So-and-so and Mrs Such-and-such to go to their gates immediately as their flights were now boarding. Jo’s eyes lingered on a happy family, lining up at their check-in desk, kids decked out in their brightest summer holiday togs. With a pang, she saw the dad lift his daughter high into the air. The little girl giggled as he kissed and tickled her.

Jo didn’t miss Sophie’s dad, he was ancient history, but the sight of the happy family unit still made her feel melancholy. The mum caught Jo staring and frowned at her, looking her up and down. Jo turned away, embarrassed, and walked over to an information screen. She scanned the lines of info. There it was — ‘Deppart Airlines Flight D-665, All2gethr.com private charter’. Jo saw that check-in for the private charter flight was up on the second floor. She headed for the elevators; glad to be distancing herself from the happy laughter of the holidaying family ringing in her ears.

“Hi, Jo isn’t it?”

The soft, mellow voice startled her from her thoughts. She felt a little surprised to be recognised.

“Yeah… Who are you?”

“Max…”

The young man standing in front of her winked. He was in his mid-twenties, a little unkempt and wearing a floppy woollen hat.

“Max Nichols… Another winner?”

“Oh, right!”

Thanks to All2gethr, nobody was a stranger anymore; everyone was a ‘friend’, even if you’d never actually met them before. Jo smiled at Max, pleasantly surprised by his looks. His profile hadn’t included a picture when she’d followed the link from the winners’ email to check him out. Now she could put a face to the name.

Max gestured at her luggage. “Want a hand?”

“Thanks.”

They walked towards the elevators, Max with her suitcase, efficient as a bell-boy.

“So is anyone from All2gethr here?”

“Nope, nobody, all a bit weird. The other winners are here though, thought I’d keep an eye out for you.’

“That’s… very kind.”

“Here we go.” He pressed the call button and the elevator doors slid open with a ding .

Jo followed him inside the mirrored lift. He pushed the button for the second floor and grinned at her as the doors closed and the lift lurched upwards. Jo stole a glance at his reflection in the mirror as the lift halted and the doors swished open. Yeah, he was cute, in that doe-eyed student kind of way.

Too young for me though , she thought, smiling to herself.

They stepped out into a hospitality lounge, Jo’s eyes doing a one-eighty around the brightly lit room. A huge flat screen monitor took centre stage, displaying the familiar all2gethr.com logo, a blue spinning globe with an alligator wrapped around it. The creature was all bright green skin, mischievous orange eyes with black slits at their centres, and gleaming white teeth. Beneath the monitor sat a table stocked with champagne on ice and crystal flute glasses that gleamed under the bright lights. Plush designer seating and tall vases filled with white lilies flanked the table.

The occupants of the seats, a stocky guy and a blonde girl, stood up as Jo and Max approached them. They looked relieved at Jo’s arrival, a welcome distraction from an impasse in their strangers’ conversation.

Max beamed at them. “Hey guys, looks like we’ve got a full team — this is Jo.”

The stocky man stepped forward first, extending his hand in greeting, “Dave.”

He was in his late twenties and looked like a sportsman who had let himself go to seed a bit, with wide shoulders and the beginnings of a beer belly. His fair hair was thinning toward the back and he had grown his fringe a little long to compensate. The comb-over was held in place by a pair of Elvis-style aviator sunglasses. His stripy shirt was straight out of a lads’ magazine fashion column, his slight paunch spilling over the top of his jeans belt.

“Hello, I’m Gwen.” The blonde reached Jo first, leaving Dave momentarily stranded. She kissed Jo on each cheek, her lips glossy with pink lipstick. She smelled of something earthy, which Jo couldn’t quite place for a moment — sandalwood. The scent was in keeping with Gwen’s bohemian, ‘hippy chick’ wardrobe. She looked a good few years younger than Dave and dressed accordingly. She had a long silken scarf wrapped around her neck and her wrists jangled with dozens of bangles and charm bracelets.

“Nice to meet you,” Jo said.

“And you,” Dave echoed.

Dave had a winning smile and friendly, twinkling eyes. He still had his hand outstretched, and Jo reached out to shake it. He had one hell of a grip, squashing her fingers as he lunged in for an air kiss. His aftershave smelled musky and expensive.

“Can I have that back now?”

Dave looked confused.

“My hand?”

“Oh!” He chuckled, apologising profusely as he let go of her hand. Dave was genuinely pleased that Jo was along for the ride. She seemed like his kind of person, down-to-earth, unpretentious. He’d been doing his best to have a laugh with Gwen but was struggling a little with her hippy chick demeanour. Max seemed a bit on the quiet side to him, definitely not the sporting type. Jo looked like she could pull a pint or two, Dave thought, unconsciously eyeing the table filled with champagne and glasses.

Max’s eyes met his, gleaming. Perhaps he was a good sport after all.

“Thirst things first then, eh?” Max grabbed a bottle of champagne, breaking the quiet. He started unravelling the foil and wire wrapped around the cork.

Jo’s eyes widened as she noticed the name on the champagne label: Cristal.

“Blimey, this is all a bit too good to be true, isn’t it?”

Max smiled, working on the cork. “It is a good vintage…”

“Yeah, I mean, New York, the prize draw… I’ve never won anything before in my life. My Mum always says if something sounds too good to be true…”

“Then it probably is,” Gwen cut in. “I was the same, I thought it was a load of old rubbish when I got the email, but then I got the letter, and the phone call… my Dad checked out the booking with the jet company and everything, it’s all legit.” She blushed a little at the mention of her father, realising how childish she must sound to the others.