Chapter 1
The lights on stage glared at the beautiful women in their dazzling evening gowns. The tension packed the arena as all eyes were glued on the five finalists on stage. Even the master of ceremonies looked with excitement as anticipation filled the air as who would be crowned 2014 Miss Inter-Continental. Everyone held their breath as the emcee took the envelope with the results from the auditor.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, the 2014 Miss Inter-Continental is Miss USA, Monica Dowell! May we request on stage Mr. Mark Scott, the Chairman and the Chief Executive Officer of the Ms. Inter-Continental Beauty Pageant to award the crown and the prize of three million US dollars, a house and lot of her choice from Mr. Scott’s company, Mark Developers, and a brand new car - a 2015-BMW Active Hybrid 5.series.”
The crowd went wild as they applauded, while a very good-looking man in his mid-thirties stood up from his seat in the front row, and lumbered up the carpeted steps onto the stage.
The beautiful winner, her twinkling eyes glowed in disbelief started to water, had both her hands upon her mouth.
“I can’t believe it!” She whispered.
The Arena went up in cheers as everybody stood up and gave a standing ovation.
Mark Scott, on stage, approached the winner, and gave her his sweetest smile.
“Hi, I’m Mark, Congratulations! Please forgive my manners for not saying hello, because if I ever say it, someday I may have to say goodbye.”
Her cheeks went red when she said, “Hi, I’m Monica.”
This was a month ago. Today, she’s travelling with Mark in his private jet to his hotels and condominiums development in Central Europe. The first stop would be in London, where he will have a couple of meetings with his operation officers, and where she and the runners-up of the 2014 Ms. Inter-Continental will perform their duties and responsibilities. Monica, at first didn’t know that Mark Scott was the founder- franchise holder of the beauty pageant around the world. This could be quite easy to miss with his young looks, which gave him the distinct image of a model. With his long, brushed up, salt and pepper hair, tanned skin, and his chiseled body that could give any professional model a run for the money. He donned his clothes as if there were no dress codes at all. He much preferred comfortable fashion than those of the older businessman. At thirty-five, he has made his mark. He now belongs to the Forbes’ Top 100 Billioners of the World. Nobody could say anything against Mark Scott. He made everybody his ally, even those who hate his guts for making so much money at a very young age.
The 2008 Learjet 60 serial-334 landed at the Heathrow airport at the exact expected time of arrival at six in the evening. It was a smooth and comfortable flight all the way. Mark, his secretary, personal assistant, the four beauty pageant winners, and their manager, disembarked the plane as soon as it landed. Two limousines waited on the tarmac for them. All of them were out of the airport in fifteen minutes flat. The secretary stayed behind and took care of all the immigration and customs check.
Inside the limo, with no knowledge whatsoever of the expedited exit, Monica as the grand winner was seated beside Mark Scott, as a protocol performed by Rick, his Personal Assistant in all matters pertaining to his daily routine.
“How was your flight?” Mark asked.
“Comfortable. Thank you.” Monica said.
“Is this your first time in London?” He said.
“Yes! It’s also my first time in Europe. I’m so excited.”
“Please do enjoy your stay, and let me know should you need anything. Okay? By the way, this is Rick, my personal assistant. He will be with you ladies while you’re here in Europe to enjoy your vacation and at the same time while you attend to your duties as Ms. Inter-Continental.”
“Thank you, Mr. Scott.” Monica said.
“Call me Mark.”
“Thank you, Mark.”
“It’s my pleasure.” He said, showing off his pearly whites.
When they reached the condominium-hotel project of Mark Scott, a first in London, he slid out of the limo, and extended his hand to help Monica out. As they entered the posh lobby, he touched her elbows and whispered in her ear.
“What are you doing tonight for dinner?”
“I really don’t know yet, I’ll ask the girls, maybe we might be hanging out together?”
“How would you like to have dinner with me tonight?” Mark asked.
“I’m not sure. You might be so busy…”
“I insist!”
“Okay, around eightyish?”
“I’ll pick you up then.”
“Okay, see you.”
“Enjoy your day. Rick, please take care of her.”
“Yes Sir!”
Monica and the girls were in the lobby chatting about their day when Mark walked into them. He was in a gray V-shaped long sleeved shirt, black jeans, and black trench coat. They all stopped talking and shifted their gaze on Mark, who gave them his sweetest smile.
“Good evening, ladies.” He said.
“Good evening, Sir.”
“How was your day?” He said.
“We were just discussing about the children in the cancer hospital. It was such a shocking reality, I, myself was so touched by how much they try to live their lives, even in their circumstances.” Monica, wide eyed, with much animation recounted her experiences. She was in a black off-shoulders blouse and mini-skirt, showing off her long and full perfect legs, and she had with her a black leather jacket, to shield her against the chill of the London night.
’Nice and sexy.’ He thought to himself. One of the many things he liked about her.
“Are you ready to go?” He whispered.
“Sure!”
“This way, please. Excuse us ladies, we have to go someplace.”
“Ughh, sure!” They chorused, as they all exchanged awkward glances.
Mark led the way to the elevator, a private elevator, where he pressed several numbers on a key pad. The doors opened, they both walked in; the elevator door closed and it started to move.
“Where are we going?” Monica asked.
“To the rooftop.”
“Oh! Okay.”
They both waited in silence as the elevator rose all the way to the rooftop. When the doors opened, at first glance, Monica thought it was a joke. To her surprise, she was welcomed with a red carpet leading all the way to a private helicopter.
“This way, dear.” Mark egged her on.
“Where are you taking me?” She asked, doubts were written all over her face.
“Let’s just get on the chopper.” Mark said.
“Not until you tell me where we’re going!” Monica demanded.
“To a place you’ll never forget.”
“Where?”Curiosity getting the best of her.
Paris, France. The most romantic city in the world, so as the cliché goes, is also the gourmet capital of the world. Tonight was no different as the chopper hovered above the delightful, well-lighted city. On the way across the 213 miles travel from London, Monica began to tell Mark about her background, family, and growing up years. Mark was silent most of the time. The two-hour helicopter ride was very exhilarating for him. It was only this very moment with Monica when he felt this kind of excitement. He watched Monica’s features as he hung on every word she said. Monica was very pretty- not pretty, but beautiful in an exotic way. What with her soft blue eyes, perfect Greek-like chiseled nose, pouty mouth, and fine light brown hair. Her face could have been a middle eastern with a Polynesian descent.
Monica’s mother was of Chinese heritage, although only by half; the other half is Caucasian, a Canadian. Her ancestors migrated to Hawaii after the Second World War. There, they lived as modest as they could, work the daily wages.
Her father is half Polynesian and American, who both worked as a Polynesian dancer and a Ukulele player. Both her parents met in Hawaii, finished high school and got married. They bore three children, two boys and a girl. After high school, both her brothers entered the navy, while she, being the youngest and also by Chinese tradition, needed to stay and take care of her parents. She was able to finish her degree in Business Accounting at the University of Hawaii in Manoa. She has this knack for numbers, and she knew it. After college, she worked for an accounting firm doing taxes for people.
The chopper landed on the helipad of the Mark Suites Le Champs-Elysees on Avenue des Champs-Elysees, 8tharrondissements-or district, also known in French as 8eme. The five year old building towers over the others as it stood tall with its hundred seventy-five stories. The lights surrounded them glittered from all directions. It was a wonderful sight to behold.
Mark again surprising Monica as she disembarked from the chopper, with a red carpet leading all the way to the entrance into the private elevator. Mark led her into the elevator and one floor down to the penthouse at the rooftop of the building. As the elevator door opened, there, standing by were the hotel manager, the chef of the house, and a dozen servers lingered around to see to their needs. Monica, her eyes and mouth a perfect O, was paralyzed inside the elevator. Mark had to pull her to get her feet moving. For Monica, an island girl who spent her twenty-one years in the beautiful island of Hawaii – imagined the sight could only be in a dream. She knew she was awake, but her mind kept playing games with her. She had to pinch herself to get rid of this dreamlike state. Meanwhile, Mark shook hands with the manager and the chef, spoke to them and told them what he expects. Then, he took a hold of her hand and led her to a table full of different colored roses – red, pink, white, yellow, and blue. He pulled her chair and sat her down while he strolled with ease to his seat opposite her. The table was huge; on her right were the multi-colored roses, ordered and made specifically for her. She couldn’t take her eyes off the extravagant sight. There were at least a thousand roses right in front of her. To her left, were the porcelains and silver utensils to be used tonight. And, in front, right opposite her, was the most handsome man she ever saw.
“Are you okay?” Mark said.
“Are you kidding me? This is the best night of my life.” She said.
“I hope you enjoy the rest of the night.”
“Don’t worry. I already have.”
They exchanged pleasantries as dinner was served. Later on, Monica continued with the tale of her life.
She confessed that she was pushed by her co-workers to join the Miss Hawaii search for the Ms. Inter-Continental beauty pageant. A wish every girl dreams about. She talked to her parents, and when they agreed, everybody she knew encouraged her to do so. She firmly believed that the difference between to dream and forever wish is, to take the first step, go ahead and fulfill that dream with reality. And, she was glad she did so.
Right after the main course the manager arrived and asked if there was anything else they wanted. Mark stood up, shook his hand, and said,
“No thank you, Mr. Jules, everything was perfect and according to plan.”
“As you wish, Sir!” The manager said.
With that, he walked over to where Monica was seated and in a very gentle manner, whispered in her ear,
“Come on, we’ll have our dessert somewhere else.”
“What? Where?”
“Follow me.” He said.
He took her hand and led her back into the elevator. One floor up and they were back in the chopper.
“Where are we going this time?” Monica asked.
“Have you heard that the best chocolates and beer can be found in Brussels?”
She looked at him as if he was out of his mind.
“Don’t tell me we’re going there for desserts.”
“Oh, yes we are. We’re about forty five minutes away.”
“Are you serious? It’s almost midnight. Don’t I have to be back for the curfew at ten?”
“Are you forgetting who owns the beauty pageant? By the way I already spoke with Ms. Lee, your manager, to exempt you for tonight’s curfew, unless you have some other plans.”
“No, no, nothing like that. I was just worried about the curfew.”
He took her hand and kissed it with a slight touch of his lips, sending her shivers.
“Don’t worry, I took care of everything. Enjoy the night.” Mark whispered.
‘Westvleteren XII’, the world’s best 10.2% brew as rated by RateBeer, ranked the Abbey’s beer as the number one beer in the world. Monks at the SintSixtus abbey had been selling to locals since the 1870’s. Bound by the Trappist code of “Ora et labora” (work and prayer), which required the monks to sell soaps, cheeses, beers, and ceramics to make a living, but not to get rich. That was till the social media era. Today, as many as eighty-five thousand calls are made per hour just for orders of this world-renowned beer. The whole process of ordering would take the monks three days to complete the delivery.
The chopper hovered above the building on Place du Grand Sablon, the lovely park-like area where the well-known art galleries, antiques, and famous shops like the Neuhaus chocolate shop were located.
Jean, the manager at Neuhaus was on stand-by at the heliport of the condo-tel owned by Mark Developers. He was busy giving orders by the buffet tables. With him, a dozen assistants drifted through and fro, positioning the world’s most famous chocolates like Neuhaus, Godiva, Guylian, Callebaut, Coted’Or, and many more. Nearby, cases of the Westvleteren XII were stacked near the over-sized freezer. A bountiful table covered with pink-and-black linen was awaiting the guest of honor. Disembarking from the chopper, a fresh whiff of the ‘Liege waffle’, also known as Belgian waffles by the North Americans, which, by the way, could never be found in Belgium or served anywhere near it.
Monica, even with the lateness of the hour, was still wide eyed and in full-action mode. Her beautiful face reflected a picture of awe. Mark led her to the special pink-and-black covered table while the assistants served them chocolates and beer. Afterwards, she was served the Liege waffle freshly made by the hired street food vendor in the corner near the buffet table.
They were back on the chopper and were heading back to London. She laid her pretty head by his shoulder as she held his arm. Warmth and fulfillment overcame her. No words can describe her feelings. Was it love, awe, infatuation, or just plain admiration? Right now she doesn’t care, all she knows was she’s enjoying every moment of it. The chopper touched down at the heliport by four in the morning. Mark took her down through the private elevator to her floor, thanked her, brushed her hand with his lips, and said goodnight. She blushed as she decided between giving him a goodnight kiss or a handshake. She felt her feet pasted on the floor as she didn’t know how to react. The elevator door closed and she found herself staring at her distraught image, the reflection on the mirrored door of the elevator.
Today, Mark busied himself with his corporate meetings. In spite of the date with Monica the night before he started quite early, at seven in the morning, and he expected to always end his meetings by midnight. What with the rather busy agenda lined up today, he knew the only time he will ever have for himself is when he goes to the restroom. It was all work today.
Monica and the rest of the pageant winners, with their manager, Ms. Lee, went about their duties and responsibilities as the main function of their travel. Her only free time was when they got back to the hotel for dinner. Later, the girls would meet up and they would either go to the disco in the hotel, or go out to a bar. One thing for sure though, she never lose last night’s feeling. It was like a cloth hanging on to her skin. She lived day and night for it. How she missed Mark.
The only time she was able to see Mark again was on their trip to Paris, France. They all met up early in the evening in the lobby for their flight out. The limousines came and took them to the airport. She was looking for Mark, who already left as soon as his secretary and personal assistant took him to his limo. Disappointed and sad, for this time she missed riding with him. She rode in the other limo with the other girls and their manager. All the way to the airport her beautiful face now stuck in disappointment, could not launch a thousand ships. She was all uptight and full of herself as she strode up onto the plane; she was surprised when Mark, in person, asked her to join him and his staff in the plane’s lounge section. The staff had their jackets off, shoes off, feet in the air, and drinks in hand. To her it seemed to be a victory celebration. Even the secretary and his personal assistant were all laughing, having a good time. As they approached the group, a flight attendant handed him a drink, then proceeded to ask her what she wanted. Mark nodded appreciating the gesture and requested for a Prosecco for her. He showed her to her seat and sat beside her.
“How are you? How have you been?” he said.
“Good. Thank you. I was quite busy with all the functions I had to attend to. And you?”
“Busy, very busy! This is the only time that I’ll be enjoying free time away from work and I want it to be with you.” He said.
Her face turned crimson, remaining silent.
“I’m sorry. Did you hear me?” He said.
Her light blue eyes glowed as she smiled and nodded.
“Yes.”
“Shall we enjoy the flight and the great company?”
“Sure!” she said.
Drinks, good food, and great laughter make a perfect combination for a wonderful time. Mark was such an excellent sport, while the flight attendant kept shoving them drinks, the pilot came over and took a shot of whisky; Mark ignoring the deed, took hold of her hand and joked the pilot,
“Captain Reed, I may want to marry this beautiful lady someday. Please make sure it happens by going back to the cockpit to fly this plane and all of us in one piece.”
Laughter all around as the personal assistant chided him,
“Mark, I offer to be your best man.”
“Of course, Rick. By all means!”
Forty-five minutes later, they landed at Orly airport and all were in very good moods. The alcohol, good food and the great company played a big role.
“We’re back in Paris, Mark. I’m so excited.” Monica said.
“Yes, we are. Ride with me to the hotel, I have something for you.” Mark said.
“Really? What’s that?”
“In the car.”
They entered the limo as soon as it arrived at the tarmac. Rick took the front passenger seat, Mark and Monica at the back, while the secretary stayed behind to process the immigration and the customs protocol. When the limo drove away from the airport, Mark took out a small rectangular box from his coat pocket; he presented this to Monica. Her light blue eyes shone as bright as the city lights outside, making her more beautiful as ever. As gentle as can be, her hands shaking, she took the box from Mark, and opened it. Her eyes wide opened in disbelief, started to water. She was laughing and crying, both at the same time.
Everything came back all at once. Never in her whole life had she ever received anything wonderful as what she held in her hands. As a baby, a growing child, and her teenage years, and only now did she receive anything that makes her feel precious. She now began to feel the wetness in her eyes.
Mark picked up the twenty-two karat white gold necklace with a heart-shaped diamond over a jaded stone mount and wrapped it around her neck.
“For you, to keep you safe and away from harm. I believe it’s from a Chinese tradition.”
“I know, I mean the jade. My mom taught me when I was young.” She said.
“You look so beautiful.” He brushed his lips against her hand.
“Thank you. It’s so beautiful.”
He held both her hands and stared deep into her light blue eyes.
She looked out the window and was appreciating the beauty of Paris and the antiquity of this romantic city. So cliché but no matter, she thought to herself. If ever she wanted to fall in love, this would be the place.
Paris looked so different from the limo than from the chopper high above the city. It seemed more romantic up there, what with all the city lights glowing. Monica wished that she could see this beautiful city from above in a chopper. Her trend of thoughts were disrupted when the limo stopped in front of the hotel.
“We’re here. Would you like to go out tonight? Like now?” Mark asked.
“Sure! Let me change into something dressier, if you don’t mind.”
“No problem, meet you down here at the lobby.”
“Okay, see you later.” She said.
Later, she came looking for Mark when Rick approached her.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Dowell, but Mr. Scott was called off to an emergency meeting tonight. He truly apologizes for this miscommunication. However, he said that he would love to see you later on after the meeting.”
“Sure! Tell him I’ll be waiting in my room.”
“Yes, Ma’am.” Rick said.
Monica joined the other girls for dinner at the hotel’s seafood restaurant. They noticed her necklace and chided her about it. They were all making jokes about how it was to be wooed by a very young, good-looking billioner. However, Monica just kept mum; her thoughts were all over the place except where she was. She was thinking about Mark, she missed him a lot. Right now she would much rather keep to herself than go out with them tonight. Also, she was anxious to see Mark after his meeting. No matter what the time is. She finished her dinner, excused herself, and then headed off to her room.
Mark, however calm he was all the time, was on his feet and yelling at the man in the other end of the long rectangular conference table.
“C’mon, Mr. Jules. You know how I feel about loans. I repeat. I hate loans. I’ve always told you guys that no matter the cash situation was, never take a loan from the bank. In the worst of the worst scenario, we wait when we have the cash. The banks are like dinosaurs, they eat us for lunch. Even how low you think the interest might seem, it would still be like cutting our balls off.”
Mark, in frustration sat down, and out of breath, took a sip of water from a glass set on the table. He placed his hand on his forehead and began rubbing his eyebrows. Said.
“How much did you take out from the bank as a loan?”
“Three hundred million Euros, Sir.” Mr. Jules answered.
“That would be about fifteen million euros per annum in interest.” Mark said.
“Somewhere in that amount, yes.”
“When did you take the loan?”
“Just yesterday morning, Sir.” Mr. Jules said.
“Submit to me all the papers; I’ll make them an offer they can’t refuse tomorrow.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Mr. Jules, I want you to stay after the meeting. I have made a decision and I would like to make you an offer.”
“Yes, Sir.”
The meeting, as usual, took most of the night and well into midnight when Mark, tired and frustrated, went up to his private elevator all the way to his suite. He took off his clothes, took a shot of scotch, and then he was asleep in no time as he hit the bed. He forgot all about his date with Monica, who was still wide awake and waiting in her room. The time was twelve-thirty after midnight.
In bed, Monica tossed and turned as she made dozens of assumptions on what happened. Did Mark forget? Maybe he was still in the meeting. Maybe he was out in a bar with a date. What’s wrong with him? Why doesn’t he call? Ohhh, I never gave him my mobile number, but he could have called the hotel, right? He owns this hotel. What is wrong with me? Am I in love? All these thoughts made her so exhausted, she finally went to sleep. The time was three in the morning.
Mark was having his morning coffee when Monica walked into the coffee shop. Her eyes were bloodshot and puffy. She was looking around among the tables, looking for someone. Mark saw her right away, stood up, and approached her.
“I’m sorry about last night, Monica. Are you alright?”
“Well, what do you think? Were you too busy to even call me at the hotel?” Her voice was a bit edgy and on the high note.
“Would you please calm down? I didn’t mean to forget about last night, I was in the meeting till midnight. Please understand I was at work.” Mark argued.
“Me, understand you? You rich people sure know how to be treated well. Have you ever considered other’s people’s feelings? Like me? How about treating me like a person?”
“Please don’t go there. That’s not fair. I’m sorry, I apologize, please forgive me.” Mark begged.
Monica’s hands went around her neck, took off the hook and then handed him back the necklace he gave her. Her bloodshot eyes shot hurt arrows straight to his light blue eyes. She turned her back and walked away.
“Monica, please, I’m sorry.” Was all he could muster.
Mark spent the whole day in meetings. He met with the Bank’s President of Lyon bank of France; discussed his outstanding loan and ways to get out of it without paying any interest. He was able to swing a deal, by using his time deposit Vis-a-Vis the loan, with the bank ended having even to pay him interest for the next ten years. Later, he informed Mr. Jules and advised him that he’ll be temporarily relieved from the financial side of the business. His paycheck will still remain the same. By the afternoon, while waiting for his next appointment, he recalled what transpired this morning between him and Monica. He was hurt at Monica’s referral to rich people. He wasn’t raised that way by his mother. He came from a well-bred family. His parents divorced when he was three years old. He grew up with his mother, whose family owns a well-established distillery of a well-known brand of whisky. He was sent to a very good intermediate school, later to a private high school, and when he graduated he worked in an airline. He worked and paid his own tuition for college. When sometimes his salary couldn’t afford the tuition fee for college, he went to the city hotel where he would work part-time as a bartender, bellman, waiter, and doorman. The tips from these jobs would cover for the balance. This was also where he became interested in hotels and later on in condominium-hotels. After college, from which he graduated top ten of his class in Liberal Arts, he went into financing, specializing in foreign trade and exchange. He made his first million by the young age of twenty-four. By this time, he became responsible for his other sibling, his identical twin, Michael, a medical doctor by profession who specializes in emergency treatment. Though the problem with Mike, who was still immature for his age, grew up a mama’s boy, to whom he always seeks approval from. Mike was quite unstable as he always remained status quo in his way of life. He never decided on his own, never had a serious relationship with a girl, and always seemed to be satisfied where his career took him. In short, Mike was not a risk taker. Mark, on the other hand was the exact opposite. He left his mother and home at an early age of seventeen. He worked to finish college. He always wanted to be on his own, his own terms, and own way of life. Later, as he became more successful in life, at the very young age of thirty, he was able to build three condo-tels in the three major cosmopolitan cities in the world. – New York, London, and Paris. He also began to help Mike, by building him a hospital in the Northern Los Angeles area. This was his way of showing his gratitude by blessing others. By this time he was also building in Tokyo, Rome, Amsterdam, Brussels, Cairo, Istanbul, and even in Beijing, China. No sooner than the constructions in these cities began, Mark was already in the list of the top ten richest men in the world. That was the reason he felt downtrodden and sad to think what Monica said this morning. He knew by heart he was loved and well-liked by his family, business associates, employees, and friends. That hurts, he thought to himself as he was about to pick up the phone to call Monica at the hotel, when his intercom buzzed and his secretary advised him that his appointment has arrived.
“Thanks. Let him in.”
The door to his office suite opened, and entered his one and only twin brother.
“Mike, long time, how are you?”
“Thanks for seeing me, bro.”
Mike always called Mark “bro”, as a way of respect since Mark was older by fifteen minutes.
“Anytime! What are you doing here in Paris, and what can I do for you?”
“Well, I really came to see you; you’re hard to get ahold of since last month. I need a new ward for the comatose patients; I hope you’ll be happy to sponsor it. I’ll even name the ward in your name.”
“Ha, ha. No need Mike, but yes, I’ll sponsor the ward. How much would it cost?”
“With the therapy room and the machines, I would say about two hundred million US dollars.”
“Okay, I’ll have it wired to your account by the end of the day. Anything else?”
“Thanks, that’s all, bro!”
Mark stood up from his desk, walked around it, and gave Mike a tight embrace.
“I’ll see you, Mike. Take care, okay?”
“Sure! Come by anytime, I’ll be happy to show you around.”
“Will do!”
Mike left as fast as he came in. The meeting took all of twenty minutes, including the niceties.
It was now around six pm, he thought he should go back to the hotel and see Monica. God! How he wanted to talk to her, to explain how sorry he was, and to be able to hold her hands. He called for his limo and his personal assistant went to work, while his secretary started to fix up and end the day at the office. Inside the limo, he phoned the hotel and asked for Monica. The phone in her room rang twice when she picked it up.
“Hello?”
“Monica! Good you’re there. This is Mark. Can I see you in about ten minutes? Please? I’m on my way there.”
“Okay, but what happened to hellos? The proper telephone courtesy?”
“I’m sorry. I’ll explain it to you when I get there.” Mark terminated the call.
When he arrived at the hotel, his good friend Joe Simon, the manager of the boy band ‘Four Way Direction’, a five time Grammy Award winner for ‘best band’ were there waiting for him. He called them to ask for this special favor to come and personally sing for Monica. They went up to her room where she was resting and hanging out with the other girls. Mark knocked on the door, and when someone opened the door, shrieks and screams filled the corridors as the girls covered their mouths in disbelief. They rolled on the floor, and jumped on the bed as tears began to roll down their faces. The boy band proceeded to sing when Monica, on her bed, stood up to check what was going on. Even with the puffy eyes and the unmade up face, she was still the essence of a real beauty. Her eyes began to water as soon as she heard the voices of her most favorite band in the world. She inched her way towards the door when she glimpsed the handsome figure of Mark among the throng of men. Her first initial reaction was to shut the door, but when she saw Mark went down on one knee, and with the precious necklace in his hands, she couldn’t hold on to her emotions any much longer. She dove towards the open arms of Mark and as they got knocked down, they playfully rolled on the carpet. They laughed and at the same time together said, “I’m sorry.” The other hotel guests on the floor, now converged outside their rooms, witnessed the incident and gave out a warm big applause. The band continued to render their piece as they walked away in the direction of the elevator. Simon, all smiles, gave Mark the two thumbs up. They spent the night well into the wee hours of the morning in her room. They ordered room service, talked about everything under the sun, played some cards, and then later on snuggled up together and watched TV. At some point before dawn, Mark excused himself as he forgot to wire transfer the money to Mike. He needed to go to his office too for a couple of meetings. Monica planted her soft lips on his as he left the room.
That was a month ago. It was so easy to fall in love with Monica, what with her youth, vigor, free spirit, and most of all, she was not afraid to speak her mind. This was quite unusual for Mark, who used to having his own way. It didn’t take much thinking on his part to propose. He did it while they were in Rome, Italy. He was there for several meetings, and to check on his property, and she was there to perform her duties as the Ms. Inter-Continental. It just so happened that John Elton was there to perform for a charity cause, and since most of his recordings were under the Mark Scott Records Company, while also being the main sponsor, of course Mark got the VIP seats. Mark brought Monica to the concert and took her to the back stage, where she met the famous Artist. She even asked for a ‘selfie’ and an autograph from him. They went back to their seats. Before the third number, the singer explained and gave further details about his next song. He implied that the song was written for him by a very good friend who even went as far as putting up a recording company so he could sing the song. He wouldn’t be here today if it wasn’t for the man, when he yelled into the microphone,
“Let’s give a big hand to my producer and very good friend, Mark Scott!”
The spotlight, as if on cue, targeted its light on Mark and Monica seating in the front row near the stage. The crowd gave a standing ovation as Mark snaked his way up towards the stage. When he reached the singer he was handed the microphone and the singer went on to play the piano. Mark, quite confident, began to sing the popular love song he wrote for the famed singer. It sounded good [so he thought] as the crowd continued to shout and yell at the top of their lungs. In a dreamlike motion, Mark climbed down the stage and moved towards Monica, who was frozen like a beautiful statue, her eyes and mouth were wide open, and both her hands clenching the armrests of the seat. Mark went down on one knee as he carried on with his song, stopped all of a sudden, and whispered into the microphone;
“Monica Lee Dowell, will you marry me?” The glare of the spotlights focused on his hand as he took out a small box from his jacket pocket. He opened it and in it was a heart-shaped of thirty-five pieces small diamonds mounted on a jade arrangement of a twenty-two karat white gold engagement ring. The concert center went silent. Everybody was watching with their hands in their mouth. The hall lights came on full force. Mark, kneeling on one knee, and Monica, still not moving, her hands now in her mouth, were shown on the giant screen hanging on both sides of the stage. Pure energy filled the air as the crowd held their breath. About twenty million viewers were witnessing this event and all were waiting. Everyone was watching. When Monica, couldn’t hold on any longer with tears in her light blue eyes, said;
“Yes.”
That was three days ago. Monica was so excited, she phoned her parents, and e-mailed her siblings about the proposal and soon-to-be wedding. She notified her friends and co-workers about what transpired with all the complete details, and they were so happy for her. Today, she badgered Mark into postponing his business conference here in Los Angeles, and instead fly with her to Aspen, Colorado for a long overdue vacation. Monica had worked so hard for the Ms. Inter-Continental beauty pageant. She had been at it for two years even before the competition began. She needed some time off, even only for a week, and what more a better time than now for the soon-to-be Mrs. Monica Scott. As usual, Mark, good-natured as always, agreed, and then proceeded to inform his private pilot, Captain Reed, of their unanticipated plan, and to request the LAX International Airport for departure clearance. Everything was taken care of even with such short notice.
Except…
Captain Reed has been with Mark Scott for ten years now. He always enjoyed the finer things in life. He knew what he wanted at an early age. Right after high school, he went straight to an aviation school and studied to be a pilot. He accomplished what the rest of his classmates could not. He finished his pilot training and degree programs in half the time the rest of the class did. He accomplished his commercial pilot flying time of two hundred fifty hours without delay, took the examination, and passed to become a commercial pilot within two years. He was in the top of his class, and was hired at once by American Continental Airways. He was a consistent model pilot of the airline, every year for the next five years, until something unfortunate happened. He became dependent on alcohol, which cost him his job.
Captain Reed was mumbling to himself after he got the call from the boss. He dragged his body with difficulty as he got out of bed. He didn’t care if he woke up the blonde girl beside him, who stirred and fell asleep again. He slumbered to the restroom, naked, and went to shower. Later, while he was putting on his captain’s uniform, he was slugging down the black coffee as it were water. Instead of driving his 2012 Spyder to the airport, as was his usual self, he called for a cab. He was not pleased to see the three delightful flight attendants waiting for him to unlock the plane inside the hangar. Inside, while they were doing the preparations for the flight, Captain Reed kept yelling for more coffee. The more senior of the flight attendant came up to him and handed him the coffee.
“Are you alright?”
“Just keep the coffee coming. Can I get some hot towel?” Captain Reed said. He was still wearing his dark sunglasses inside the cockpit. Outside, it was dark, and raining. Smog covered the skies.
“You well know they’re for Mr. Scott and his guests.”
“Just get me one, I need it now!” He yelled.
The flight attendant stormed out of the cockpit, and later returned with his requests.
“You sure you’re okay? You look like shit!”
“Get out!” He shouted.
He started the jet’s engine. His experience dictated his actions as he checked through the jet’s systems. He knew the jet by heart. He was flying this for the past ten years. It was all systems go.
He contacted the LAX tower and requested for a runway to take off. Upon their instruction, he maneuvered the plane towards the intended direction. He taxied and waited for Mr. Scott to arrive.
Mark arrived with only Monica in tow. No secretary and no personal assistant. They were way to a fantastic time with just the two of them. No business, just pure vacation. When Mark and Monica entered the jet, they were greeted right away with niceties and refreshments. They settled in the lounge section of the plane and without delay instructed Captain Reed to take off. They buckled up in their leather seats, getting ready for take-off. The flight attendants followed suit. The tower gave the clearance for takeoff; Captain Reed navigated the jet with extreme care. He was still wearing his very dark sunglasses. The strong rain outside was also clearing the smog in the Los Angeles sky. However it narrowed down the visibility from the cockpit. Captain Reed geared up the jet for takeoff, pulling the throttle as best as he could.
So Captain Reed thought.
As the jet roared forward heading towards the end of the runway, Captain Reed, by experience and with a heavy hangover, soared into the heavy rains, and at zero visibility, hurtled into total darkness. The jet bumped and jerked as it steered in midair. Captain Reed was all staid as he held on to the steering wheel of the jet in this crucial moment. Both his hands were white as paper as he gripped it for dear life.
It was too late.
The jet changed direction as it dove, nose first, back towards the ground.
“Mayday, mayday. This is Scott jet four seven niner requesting for emergency assistance. We’re in a nose dive position somewhere in the LAX area. Please respond.”
“Scott four seven niner, we see you coming down between the LAX and Santa Clarita area. Emergency units have been dispatched. Copy.”
“Scott four seven niner, do you copy? Please acknowledge.”
“Respond, Scott four seven niner.” The tower demanded.
It was so sudden that Captain Reed and the rest of the passengers inside the plane were not able to do anything.
Then there was total silence…
“Search for them. Send in the rescue choppers.”
