Lucky, lucky me.
I’ve just finished a lovely gig in New York, and I must say, it was a relief that it’s finally over. I was more than ready to head back to my hotel and get some well-deserved rest. As I quickly changed into my comfortable clothes and sneakers, I felt like I was walking on cloud nine.
The rain-soaked streets of New York greeted me like a cold slap in the face, and I had to make a quick dash for the car to avoid getting drenched. I yanked open the door and slid into the passenger seat, feeling a sense of relief as I escaped the downpour. The driver, however, seemed to be in a tearing hurry. I hadn’t even had a chance to fasten my seatbelt, and I felt a jolt of fear as the car lurched forward. It soon became apparent that this man was a bit of a maniac behind the wheel as we careened through the streets.
My hand remained tightly gripped on the door handle. Fortunately, my hotel was just a short distance away, and I was grateful that we were approaching the lights. But as we turned the corner, something unexpected happened. A flash of white appeared in front of me, everything happened in slow-motion, I involuntarily raised my hand, and the car came to a sudden, jarring stop. My heart skipped a beat as the seatbelt dug into my chest. I was thrown forward, my body straining against the restraint of the seatbelt, and for a moment, everything seemed to stop. The sound of screeching tyres, the flash of white, and the sensation of weightlessness all combined to create a sense of disorientation, leaving me breathless and bewildered. But before I could even process what was happening, the driver had leapt out of the car.
I followed him, out of breath, heart racing, and that’s when I saw her – a woman who had been involved in some sort of collision with our car. My initial fears quickly vanished when I saw that she was already on her feet, albeit a bit shaken. This man, on the other hand, was furious, gesticulating wildly as he yelled at her. I was taken aback by his outburst, and I quickly intervened, trying to calm the situation.
“Oi, oi. What the... calm down.“ I started to say, but he cut me off, his anger and frustration boiling over. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry.” I murmured, feeling extremely embarrassed and sorry about everything.
She muttered something under her breath, clearly annoyed, and then turned to me and said, “It’s okay.” I could sense her frustration, and I couldn’t help but feel that my driver was in the wrong.
Just then, a man appeared out of nowhere, shouting “Grace! What’s wrong?” The woman turned to him and explained the situation, and I found myself nodding in agreement with her. The driver, on the other hand, seemed to be trying to shift the blame, claiming that she had come out of nowhere. His demeanour changed almost immediately as the other man appeared. Voice became lower, hands kept to himself, he was visibly afraid of that other dude and it was a sickening reality. This douchebag was only man enough when he was yelling at a woman but turned into a fucking whiny little baby when a man stood up.
Grace, meanwhile, was more concerned about her coat, which had gotten dirty. She took it off and examined it looking pretty upset. I offered to pay for the cleaning, but before I could even finish my sentence, my driver let out a loud moan and clutched at his face.
“Oh- sorry about that.” she mumbled even though not really bothered, looking down as she rubbed her wrist.
“Nothing to be sorry about.” I said simply as the man who just knocked out my driver turned around to approach us.
“Hm, whatever, then.” she chuckled as her friend took her hand and examined it.
“Looks a bit out of place?” he said with a strong accent I couldn’t quite make out, stroking her wrist up and down. “Can you move it?”
“I don’t wanna try it now.”
“I do.” he snickered, looking at her with mischief. “Alright, let’s go? We’ll check it out later.”
“Yeah.” she breathed turning to me.
“Oh, it’s my hotel there.” I smiled, gliding my hand over her arm involuntarily. “Take care. And I’m sorry for everything again.”
“I’ve had it worse.” she said, smiling widely at me. “Good night.”
“Night!”
Dawn was just cracking over New York, the first pale fingers of light reaching through the vast windows of JFK. The airport already throbbed with the early morning rush, travellers pulling suitcases, calling out goodbyes and the squeak of rubber soles on polished floors combined into an annoying background track.
I’d just checked in, another flight across the pond, another day blurring into the last. Passport control. Routine. But even familiar routines can feel stretched thin when you are restless, and the thrum of my own pulse seemed to echo the airport’s nervous energy as I waited in line. Finally, a polite nod from the officer, a brisk stamping of my passport, and I was through, the little thump of relief barely registering.
I found a gate seat overlooking the runway, the expanse of tarmac shimmering faintly in the dawn light. Coffee. Yes. The sickly-sweet smell of airport coffee was hardly gourmet, but it was a ritual. I grabbed a paper cup from the nearby stand and slumped back into my seat, scrolling through Instagram, thumb flicking mindlessly. Noise. Eventually, the lukewarm coffee was gone, the sugary dregs clinging to the bottom of the cup. Binning it, I turned back to my seat, and that’s when my gaze snagged. Across the narrow walkway, a woman was digging through a large tote bag, its leather worn soft with age.
Something about her posture, the way she tilted her head, just... something tugged at a frayed edge of memory. I found myself watching her, I couldn’t find anything better to do, I guess.
“Hey, Grace?” The voice cut through the low hum of airport chatter. A man stepped into my line of sight, blocking my view for a moment. Then she looked up, her head tilting back, and a smile bloomed on her face, transforming her features.Grace.
“Oh, hi,” she replied, her voice a low, husky murmur. She stood to greet him, and he leaned in, a flash of a too-wide, toothpaste-commercial smile.
“How are you? Looking fantastic as always, love,” he drawled, the British accent thick. “Oh, what happened to your hand?” he added, suddenly noticing something I hadn’t, and gently taking her left hand in his.
“Uh... as always, you know, lucky, lucky, lucky me,” she half-sang, a wry twist to her lips now, though the giggling lilt was still there. He turned her hand over, examining something on her palm.
“Huh. Poor you,” he said, with what sounded like genuine sympathy.
“It’s fine,” she repeated, her smile a little tighter now. “Really.”
“Alright then.” He straightened, the knightly gesture suddenly returning as he took her hand again, this time to press a kiss to her fingers. “Great seeing you. Let’s do dinner sometime?”
“Yeah, I’ll call you when I’m back,” she promised.
“I’ll wait,” he declared dramatically. “Have a good flight, love.”
He finally moved away, disappearing back into the flow of travellers. Grace sank back into her chair, her face changing from smiley immediately to cold, and the question –Is it her?– clawed at my throat, desperate to be asked. But before I could even form the words in my head, the boarding announcement crackled over the loudspeakers, a tinny voice calling for passengers to London. Grace was already on her feet.
Boarding pass clutched tight, I found my seat quickly, stowing my small bag overhead. Then, a familiar, almost compulsive need took over. Sanitiser. Wet wipes. Leaning precariously on one knee on the plush seat, the armrests meticulously wiped, the tray table, the window ledge, everything that caught my eyes. As people shuffled past, settling into their own spaces, a pair of blue eyes suddenly locked onto mine, just to my left. Grace. Again. Her gaze sharp, raked over me, head to toe. Like I was some kind of prize idiot.Well, maybe I am a little weird, I thought, a smile tugging at my lips. Finally finished with my germ-fighting crusade, I sank into my seat as a flight attendant appeared, offering a flute of champagne. Yes, please. Suddenly, the flight to London didn’t seem quite so long after all.
Thankfully the take off was smooth and the flight wasn’t that scary anymore. I tried to read something whilst on the plane as the world below faded away but it didn’t really wrap me up so I closed the book and put it far away from me. I searched for something to watch but didn’t like anything much.
The first hour of the flight finished. Soon the food was served and while eating my eyes went back to that lady’s place, onto her laptop screen where she was editing some photos, I believe, and I watched while she was busy doing that. I must’ve gotten too into it that she turned her head to face me. By the look on her face and the raised brow I turned to my plate in an instant but looked back involuntarily and noticed her grinning at me which made me smile and relax. She didn’t shut the certain between us right away, though, so maybe she didn’t mind.
“Are you a photographer?” I asked but she raised her brow frowning, not catching what I was saying. “You- photographer?” I repeated, moving closer.
“Oh, no. Just a hobby.” she replied. I looked over at the screen, a photo of a man walking in the middle of the street, dressed in a long coat, smoking. “I shoot film.”
“Yeah? I see. That’s a nice shot. You just take photos of random people on the street as a hobby?” I chuckled.
“It’s called street photography.” she said, a bit meanly, scrolling through the views of New York and I liked a few of the shots. They were well composed.
“I see... excuse me.” I started after a pause. “Your hand... you’ve been in a car accident... yesterday?”
“Yes, incident. It was you.” she replied, smiling which made me smile back involuntarily.
“Huh, yeah, yeah. I’m sorry, again. I remembered you right away. What a coincidence.” I chuckled, looking at her and she just smiled at me and turned back to the screen.
However, I felt the momentum to dive deeper. Somehow she was not very talkative. And when someone is not accommodating, I become a talker. Usually this helps to warm up the interest in the conversation, and this time my tactics did not disappoint. At first, I told a little about myself in order to somehow tune in a positive way. We bounced from topic to topic, she asked most of the questions and I did most of the talking. Grace wasn’t really eager to tell about herself due to her ‘boring life’ compared to mine. Maybe she didn’t want to overshare with some stranger on the plane, which is completely understandable.
Sometimes I wish I could have shut up at the right time, too, but mostly it doesn’t seem possible. Nevertheless we kept some conversation going and I was happy that I didn’t have to force myself to sleep.
When the plane finally started descending I was asked to fasten my belt and I anxiously waited for us to land and thankfully we did. Grace and I waited to for the majority of the people to leave before getting up. I don’t really understand, where do all these people rush to when you can’t leave anyway. Following Grace I stepped off the board, went through all the last checks and we were free to go.
“Where are you going from here?” I asked as we left the airport building.
“Oh, I don’t know yet, I need to make a call.” she said.
“Alright then...” I breathed, looking around, somehow sad that we have to part ways and possibly never see each other again but then a brilliant idea hit me like wrecking ball. “Can I get your Instagram? Keep in touch.” I added with a grin, pulling my phone to her.
“Yeah, uh-” she let out, glancing at me for a moment as she typed. “There’s no information here, though.”
“Yeah, that’s fine.” I smiled, looking at her profile. “30K, huh? You’re quite an influencer!” I joked, pressing the follow button. “Okay, I won’t keep you. Text me if you’re anywhere around LA.”
A. N.
Thank you so much for taking a chance on the first chapter of my book. This story has been living in my head for a long time, and I’m so excited (and a little nervous!) to finally share Jessie and Grace’s journey with you.
If you enjoyed this glimpse into their world, please consider leaving a Like or a Comment. Your support helps other readers find this story and keeps me inspired to write.
P. S. English is my second language, so I hope you don’t mind mistakes I’ve probably made.
See you in the next chapter,
R.
