Songs, Sails & Silly Dating Schemes by Cindy Kehagiaras

He drove straight out onto the runway of the small airport, then came to a stop next to another police cruiser with its lights off, a big black Lincoln Navigator sat at the base of an impressive private jet. The stairs were down and the light inside glowed behind the sheen of the early morning mist. A peach illumination in the distance reminded me how much I hated sunrises these days.

I used to love them. Seeing a sunrise meant I’d spent an entire night with friends and lovers talking and partying all the way to the next day. It meant I was living, really living. Not waisting too much time asleep but being awake and free to create music and memories. That was long ago. Three lifetimes ago. Now it meant I couldn’t sleep. That the memories kept me awake. That I was still living and forced to be a functioning human. I was surviving enough for my daughter and her insistence that I stay in her life, when she wasn’t mad at me. And the music, always the music, but other people’s music. Not mine, never mine. “Alright.” Kurt met me at the top of the stairs. “Now, this is strictly confidential. I’ve had explicit instructions to deny any goings on here for the safety of the passenger,” he stated gravely.

“What in the hell are you talking about?”

He used to work for Bernie and Sandy when they lived at BernSand full time. But they let his crew go when they left on their cruise and Kurt wasn’t too happy about it. I wasn’t sure why he was involved with this mystery person or who was paying him.

Kurt turned his bulky body sideways and placed his hands on his hips. My view of a heap on the floor in the middle isle of the plane was still slightly obscured by his massiveness. I pushed past him to get a better look. I’d seen women passed out on the floor before, maybe too many times to have any strong emotions about it. I only wanted to know who it was that was so important that the police needed my sorry ass in the middle of the night.

“I’m not sure how many of these she took,” The airplane captain in his white uniform held out a prescription bottle to me on the far side to the body. I didn’t take it. I needed to see who the woman was.

I knelt at her bare feet. She wore ivory silk pants and matching blouse, almost like pajamas making her look ethereal in the way she lay on her side like a Botticelli painting. Her dark hair lay across her face. I heard a gasp from Stewie when I brushed the hair way from her face. The bandage across her forehead and large yellow and purple bruise on her swollen cheek almost made her unidentifiable, except for the dark beauty mark next to her right eye, long luscious lashes, and full pink lips.

I looked back at Kurt. “This is Shay Lazar.”