Authors: Nicholas Matthews
In a last ditch effort, he approached the ticket counter. The young lady behind the counter was blonde, perky, and energetic. She looked like the victim of caffeine overdose. “I was wondering if you might be able to tell me if Faith Watson is already on a train to New York City.” Gibson said.
The girl whose name tag read Carla pursed her lips. “I’m sorry, sir. I can’t give out passenger information. Privacy laws are very strict when it comes to that sort of thing.”
“I understand,” Gibson said. “I was just hoping you could bend the rules a little or something.”
“I don't know you,” Carla said, smacking on a wad of strawberry-flavored gum. “For all I know, you're somebody from corporate testing me to see if I will do something I'm not supposed to. Or maybe you're one of those secret shoppers. Of course, if you are, please don't count the gum against me. I had onions for lunch.” Surreptitiously, she took the gum out of her mouth and slyly tossed it into the garbage can underneath her counter.
“I'm not with corporate, and I'm not a secret shopper,” Gibson said. “I'm just a guy looking for a girl. Surely, you've run into situations like this before.”
“This ain't Sleepless in Seattle,” Carla reminded him. “This is reality, and this is my job, which I would very much like to keep.”
“I understand,” Gibson replied. “Is there anything you can do to help me that won't cause you to lose your job?”
“I can sell you a ticket to New York City.”
“That's not what I need,” Gibson said.
“Then, I'm sorry, sir. There's probably nothing I can do.”
Gibson was about to leave the counter and go search some more when, out of nowhere, Josie came up to the counter and slapped the stack of flyers down. “Hey Carla. What’s up, girl?”
Gibson looked at Josie and then back at Carla. “You two know each other?”
“Of course,” Josie said. “I’ve known her forever.”
“He with you?’ Carla asked, nodding at Gibson.
“Yeah, we’re trying to find his girlfriend. She’s supposed to be boarding a train for New York City. He needs to catch her before she leaves. It's really important. Can you help us out?”
Carla chewed on her lip, indecisive. “I want to help. I do. But I don’t want to get fired.”
“We won’t tell,” Gibson said with a grin. “Scout's honor.”
Josie was a little more direct in her approach. “Don't tell me you can't help. You owe me big time for setting you up with Tommy. If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't have met your one true love. And that's what Gibson here is looking for. Would you really deny him the chance at the kind of happiness you've found?”
“You're good,” Carla said, giving Josie the evil eye. “I'll give you that.”
“So you'll help him?”
“Give me her name again,” Carla said with a sigh.
“Faith Watson.”
Carla typed the name into her computer and looked at the results. She took a deep breath and looked around to make sure her superiors weren’t watching her. “Here’s what I can tell you. She hasn’t boarded a train yet. I can't give you the number of the train she's schedule to board. Please don't ask me to. But there's still time if you hurry.”
“That's a big help,” Gibson said.
“So there’s still hope,” Josie said, elbowing him in the ribs. “Told ya.” Gibson grinned sheepishly.
“One more thing,” Carla said. “You should probably find her pretty soon. I’d hate to see her make that train. You don't have long. If you don't find her in the next fifteen minutes or so, I'd say you're out of luck.”
“Thanks so much,” Gibson said, energized by the prospect that his dream was still alive and well. “I owe you big time.”
“Just find your girl,” Carla said with a smile. “I'll send you a bill.”
Josie searched the women's restrooms while Gibson scanned the monitors to see which trains were bound for New York. She came out within a couple of minutes, shaking her head. Faith wasn't in there. Gibson motioned to her to follow him. He knew what sections of the station they needed to search. They had just started scouring the south end of the station when Gibson saw something that made his blood boil. He saw Calvin chatting up another travel agent. He watched as the man handed her a $100 bill. He was trying to find Faith too. That couldn't be good.
“We’ve got some trouble,” Gibson said. “That guy beat Faith up and had me thrown in jail for it.”
“Who?” Josie asked. “The pretty boy?”
“Yeah, only if you look at his face, he isn’t nearly as pretty as he once was.”
“You did that?” Josie asked, slightly amused.
“I’m not proud of it.”
“You should be,” Josie said. “You did a real number on him.”
“He hit Faith.”
“Which means we can’t let him find her first. We need to beat him.”
Gibson looked at her with amusement.
“No pun intended,” she said. “You go and find Faith. I’ll keep him busy. I have an idea.”
“Are you sure? You don’t have to do this, you know?”
“Hush,” Josie said. “I’m a hopeless romantic. I’m a firm believer in love. If this is your shot, I don’t want to ruin it. You can help me find my Prince Charming when all of this is over with and we're sure Faith doesn't get on that train.”
“I really appreciate this.”
“Then don’t ruin the chance. Go and find Faith.”
Gibson nodded. “I’ll find her. You take care of Calvin.”
“I’m on it. Leave it to me. He won't know what hit him!”
Josie disappeared into the crowd, leaving Gibson standing there, wondering what she had planned. He had just started looking for Faith again when he saw Josie weaving through the crowd, carrying all of her art supplies, including an open can of yellow paint.
“Oh no,” he said to himself with a chuckle. “Surely she's not going to...”
But he quickly saw that she was going to do exactly what it looked like.
Josie winked at him and made a beeline for Calvin. Pretty Boy had obviously gotten the information he was looking for out of the travel agent and was smiling confidently. He had just turned away from the counter and started threading his way through the crowd when Josie made her move. One moment she was moving along gracefully, with an armload of brushes, canvases, sketchpads, and paints. The next, everything was airborne including the opened can of canary yellow. Josie fell flat on her face and her supplies went everywhere. The can of paint, however, went exactly where it was meant to, covering Calvin in yellow from head to toe.
Calvin stood there for a moment, frozen in shock before howling in outrage. His designer shirt, designer jeans, finely coiffed hair, shoes that were worth more than most people earned in a week, and his recently bruised face were all covered in yellow.
“I’m so so sorry,” Josie said, getting up quickly. “I tripped. It was an accident.”
“Look what you’ve done!” Calvin screamed. “You stupid cow. Look what you’ve done!”
Josie played her part expertly. “I’m so sorry. I apologize. I didn’t mean to do that. I’ll pay for any damages.”
But Calvin’s temper was in overdrive and would not be calmed. He grabbed Josie by the collar of her shirt. No doubt this is exactly how it had happened with Faith. He looked like he was on the verge of punching her in the face. The veins in his neck stood out, and his eyes bulged in a white-hot fury.
“Don’t hit me,” Josie said. “Please. It was an accident.”
By this time several people had started to notice what was going on. They gawked at the scene, mouths agape. Some of them were snickering. Calvin sneered at them then balled his fist. “You’ve ruined everything,” he said. “You've ruined it all.”
“I’ll pay for it,” Josie said. “I'll replace your clothes, have them dry cleaned, whatever it takes to make you happy. I'll pay for all of it.”
“Oh yes,” Calvin agreed. “You will.”
Nearby, two construction workers were eating lunch on a bench. They had been doing renovations on one of the train station restrooms and taken a break. They saw Calvin’s intentions and both of them stood up. “Hey buddy, it was an accident,” one of the workers said. He was a beefy, imposing man with a handlebar moustache and hands that looked capable of ripping phone books in half.
“Stay out of this, Bluto,” Calvin seethed. “This isn’t your business.”
“We saw the whole thing,” the other construction worker said. “She tripped. She said she would pay for the damages. What else do you want her to do?”
Calvin turned to look at them. He still had Josie’s collar bunched up in his hand. “Mind your
own business. This doesn't concern you.”
“Let her go, and we’ll call it a day,” Handlebar Moustache said.
“Not happening,” Calvin said.
“Oh, yeah,” both men said, advancing on him. “It’s happening. You can do this the easy way or the hard way.”
By this time one of the cops assigned to the train station had noticed what was going on. He came over quickly, hand on his hip, ready to snap the guard off of his pistol at a moment's notice.
“Sir, I need you to let her go immediately!”
“Everything is fine,” Calvin said.
“Doesn't appear to be fine from here,” the policeman said. “What kind of problem do we have?”
“She spilled paint all over me,” Calvin said, still dripping yellow.
“I can see that,” the officer said, moving his hand from his gun to his baton. “But you need to release her. Now.”
Calvin didn’t respond at first, and the officer drew his baton. “Let her go. I won’t tell you again.”
Calvin took a deep breath and released his grip on her. “Come on,” the officer said. “We need to go and file a report. I’ll get statements from both of you.”
“I don’t have time,” Calvin said. “I've got someplace to be right now.”
“Are you catching a train?”
“No,” Calvin replied.
“Then you’ve got time.”
Calvin grumbled and balled his fists up. This wasn’t going at all like he’d planned. “I’m not going. I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“You’re going one way or the other,” the officer said. “What I just saw could be conceived as assault.”
“You can’t be serious!” Calvin said.
“I am. Now, let’s go.”