“Well…” I drop my shoulders and stand tall, as I try to act cool. “How can I help you?”
Amusement flashes across his face. “I’ll have a double macchiato, please.”
“Of course.” I type it into the computer then glance up at him. “Will that be all?”
His eyes hold mine. “For now.”
I roll my lips as I try to hide my smile. Why does everything that comes out of his mouth sound sexy?
For now isn’t theoretically a hot sentence.
Lance looks over my shoulder to see the screen. “It’s okay, Lance, Mr. Garcia likes it when I make his coffee,” I say as I try to stay straight faced.
Sebastian’s forehead wrinkles, and I know he’s inwardly cringing inside. Ha-ha, this is classic. Oh well. That will teach him for throwing away my coffee yesterday.
“Okay, okay,” Lance says, taking over from me at the register.
I turn to the coffee machine, and I really want to burst out laughing. I’m so shit at this, it isn’t funny. Right. What do I do again? This coffee machine is so confusing.
I glance over my shoulder to see Mr. Garcia waiting patiently as he watches me. His hands are tucked into the pants pockets of his grey suit. He’s wearing a cream shirt today, and it really makes his dark hair pop.
He gives me a soft smile, and I smile back.
He really is dreamy.
I make his coffee and turn back to him. “Here you go.”
“Thank you.” He takes it and dips his head. “Have a nice day.”
I will, now that I’ve seen you.
“You, too,” I beam.
He turns and walks out of the store. I pick up a cleaning cloth and practically run to the front of the café to spy on him through the window. He walks out into the street and crosses the road. I watch on as he takes a sip, winces, and screws his face up.
He hates it.
I giggle.
He takes another sip, and then with a shake of his head, he throws it in the bin.
I burst out laughing and return to the cashiers’ desk.
“What’s so funny?” Lance asks.
“That guy.”
“Who, the Italian dude?”
“Yeah, the gorgeous one. I don’t think he’s Italian, though.”
“He’s a bit old for you, isn’t he? What about him?”
“He is not too old for me, and he hates my coffee.”
“And?”
“He hates my coffee and yet, he came back.”
Lance frowns. “I don’t get it.”
I widen my eyes, Lance can’t be this clueless. “Well, if he doesn’t like my coffee and he came back, it means he’s coming to see me, doesn’t it?”
“Perhaps he just works close, and this place is convenient.”
“Maybe.” I smile as I wipe the counter. “We’ll see tomorrow, won’t we?” I smile as I reorganize the menus. “If he comes back tomorrow, it’s definite confirmation that he’s coming to see me.”
“You women and your mind fucks.” Lance rolls his eyes. “If you like him, why don’t you just ask him out? You don’t have to make the poor bastard drink your petrol coffee.”
I giggle as I remember the disgust on his face.
I really am a funny bitch.
I exhale heavily and look up at the sign over the door.
C L U B
E X O T I C
I can’t believe I’m actually doing this. I’ve never even been to a gentlemen’s club before, let alone considered working in one.
It’s fine. It’s totally fucking fine.
It’s not—not by a long shot—but I can’t live where I am for much longer. Penelope and her Rave Cave have me going insane. I push on the large brass knob on the heavy black door, and I walk in.
Instantly, my senses are overloaded with luxury, dark charcoal walls, huge chandeliers, and incredible gilded mirrors that are hanging as artwork.
“Hello,” a pretty blonde girl says with a smile. “I’m Anne-Marie.”
“Hi.” I grip my resume folder with white-knuckle force.
Run. Run the fuck away, right now.
Oh, hell, what am I doing here? I think I’m going to throw up.
I swallow the lump in my throat to try and push some sort of sentence past my lips. “H-hi. I’m April. I’m here for an interview.”
Anne-Marie looks down at her clipboard and ticks off my name. “Great. Just this way, please, April.”
She turns and walks off across the club. I follow, looking her up and down.
She’s gorgeous and looks so glamorous in her black, knitted, turtleneck, tight dress. Like a sexy, smart businesswoman or something. How does she walk in shoes that high?
She opens a door to a waiting room of some kind. There’s a girl sitting alone in the corner, and she looks up at us with a timid smile.
“Just take a seat here. Porsha will be with you shortly,” Anne-Marie smiles.
“Thank you.”
I sit down in the closest seat, and Anne-Marie disappears, the door clicking closed behind her. The room falls silent, and I drag my eyes up to the other girl who is waiting. She gives me a lopsided smile.
“Hi,” I say softly.
“Hi.”
We fall silent again, and finally she whispers, “What the hell am I doing here?”
“I know. Me, too.”
She moves to sit beside me so that nobody can hear us. “You need to tell me to leave. This shit is crazy.”
“If you tell me first,” I whisper back. “Are you here for the bar job?”
“Yeah.”
“Me, too. I’m broke.”
“Same. I’m studying. I’m Kayla, by the way.”
“Same.” I smile. “I’m April.”
“What are you studying?”
“Law.” I look around nervously. “Is this place even legal?”
“Who knows?” Kayla shrugs. “I’m studying medicine. In my third year.”
I smile, feeling a little at ease. Kayla is attractive and obviously intelligent. “Apparently, they pay seventy pounds an hour, and you work ten-hour shifts.” She whispers.
“Shit, really? God, I could do with that.”
“Me, too. I’m living in the biggest dump on Earth.”
“Well, I’m on campus, and it is literally Hell.”
“I did that my first year. Never again. Let’s hope we both get the job so that we at least know one person.”
The door opens, and a beautiful woman with a black bob comes into view. “Hello.” She smiles and looks between us. She’s gorgeous, made up to the nines with a full face of makeup and red lipstick. “My name is Porsha. I’m the manager here.”
“Hello.” We both smile.
Porsha looks between us with calculating eyes. This woman is no pushover. I can tell already.
“Who was first here?” she asks.
“Me,” Kayla says nervously, standing. “I’m Kayla.”
“Hello, Kayla.” Porsha smiles. “This way.” She turns and walks into the office, and Kayla gives me a nervous shake of her head.
“Good luck,” I mouth.
“Thanks,” she mouths back before disappearing into the office and closing the door behind her.
I tip my head back and stare at the ceiling. There are old-fashioned paintings on it, as if it’s the Sistine Chapel.
Wow… weird.
This place really is something. I wonder what used to be in this building?
I wait for fifteen minutes, and then the door opens. I watch as Kayla shakes Porsha’s hand. “Thank you for the opportunity, I’m really excited,” she says.
Oh, she must have gotten the job.
“Take a seat, Kayla. I will be with you after I interview April.”
“Okay, thanks.” Kayla hunches her shoulders together and sits down. “Good luck,” she mouths to me.
“Hello, April, nice to meet you,” Porsha smiles at me and holds out her hand to mine. She then holds the door open for me. “Please take a seat.”
After shaking her hand, I sit down at the huge, black desk.
Porsha sits down opposite me, and she studies me intently. “Welcome.”
“Thanks.”
She has an air about her that’s powerful and confident. She waits for me to speak, as if assessing everything that I do and say.
“So, tell me… why are you here?”
“I…” I pause. “I’m applying for the bar position.”
“And what do you know about Club Exotic?”
“Not much, I’m afraid. I’m hoping you can shed some light on the position.”
She sits back with a knowing smile and crosses her legs. “Tell me about yourself.”
I shrug. “What do you want to know?”
She raises an eyebrow. “All of it.”
“I’m twenty-five. American.”
“I can hear that.”
“I’m studying law here in London on a scholarship.”
“Are you currently working?”
“Yes, in a coffee house in Kensington.”
“And you aren’t happy there?”
“I am, but it doesn’t pay enough, and I need to find a new apartment.”
“Okay,” she replies. “Tell me about your financial situation.”
Fuck, that’s a bit personal.
“April, don’t waste my time. Why do you need this job, darling?”
Something inside me snaps. “Because all of my money is tied up in my house at home in The States, and my bastard ex-husband won’t get out of it so I can sell it.”
She smiles as if happy with my answer. “So, you’re starting again?”
I nod, slightly embarrassed. I bet her ex-husband wouldn’t get away with this shit. “Yes, I am.”
“Can you stand up for me?” I frown as she stands and comes around to my side of the desk. “Stand.”
Huh?
I do as she asks anyway, and she circles me, looking me up and down. She holds my hair up and studies my face. She runs her hand down over my hip, and then she tilts her head.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“I think I have another role for you.”
I frown.
“Please, take a seat.” She sits back down and links her fingers together in front of her. “Let me tell you about Club Exotic.”
I grip my resume on my lap. Does she even want to see it? I worked on this for hours last night.
“We’re the most exclusive gentlemen’s club in London,” she goes on. “And we have franchises all over the world.”
Exclusive? Please, give me a break.
I fake a smile and act interested.
“Our members pay a premium membership fee to ensure confidentiality.”
“How much is premium?”
“That depends on the level of membership they have. A bronze membership, for example, is fifty thousand pounds.”
“A year?” I gasp.
Porsha smiles. “Yes, a year. A silver membership is seventy-five thousand, and a gold membership is around one hundred and ten.”
What the fuck?
“What’s the difference between the memberships?” I ask.
“Bronze has access to the facilities, an open bar, an award-winning restaurant, a gym…”
I frown. A gym? Wait, I’m confused.
“April,” she pauses as if trying to articulate herself properly. “Our members come here to be able to mix with their friends in the comfort of privacy. The caliber of men here is exceptionally high, including celebrities, politicians, professional athletes, those types. They don’t want or need photos turning up on social media about their private lives, so we make it possible for them to escape their public status.”
I try hard not to roll my eyes. It’s a brothel. Say it like it is, lady.
“I see.” My eyes hold hers. “And what do the other memberships get?”
“They get access to all the facilities, but they also get unlimited lap dances, as well as a few vouchers a year.”
“Vouchers?”
“We’ll get to that later.”
“What do gold members get?”
“All of the above benefits, as well as time in the Escape Lounge.”
“Escape Lounge?”
“Do you have any idea what it would be like to be a man of stature and have women throw themselves at you when you go to a public bar?”
I stare at her flatly. No, and I don’t care.
“And do you know how many women try to take advantage of powerful men by blackmailing them with images?”
I shrug. “I haven’t really thought about it before.”
“Celebrities need to unwind without the fear of being photographed. Our members don’t come here for the women. They pay big money to protect their reputations, and they come here to be anonymous.”
I nod. “Okay.”
“Of course, they can get a lap dance if they wish, or they can spend time in the Escape Lounge, but our girls are more guarded than our members. NDA legal documents are signed on employment and on memberships.”
“What does that mean?”
“We protect our women’s reputations as much as our clients. We only have high caliber women working here. Intelligent, beautiful women who are putting themselves through university or striving to give their children a better life. Ninety-nine percent of our applicants won’t be successful in securing a position.”
Shit, I’m not going to get it, and this is her way of letting me down nicely.
She sits back in her chair and raises her chin. “I take it your ex-husband did a number on you?”
I grip my resume tightly. “He did.”
“And what are you going to do about it?”
“Get a law degree,” I shrug.
“I think it’s about time you started making decisions that are going to set you up for life, don’t you?” I frown, but she goes on. “I think you’re above bar work.”
“What does that mean?”
“Every night, in the Escape Lounge, we hold a fashion parade with twenty-four of the most beautiful women we have.”
Huh? Fashion parade.
“Every night, twenty-four men reserve an Escape Night, and at the end of the fashion parade, we have a private cocktail party.”
I listen intently as I imagine the scenario she is setting.
“During the cocktail party, our Escape Girls will choose their partner for the night.”
“I’m sorry, I’m lost.”
“Being an Escape Girl doesn’t mean you sleep with anyone, April. What it does mean is that you will spend the night with the man that you choose.”
“Spend the night?”
What the hell?
“We have a five-star hotel above us, and we own a floor of apartments.”
“The men pick you and then you have to sleep with them?” I frown in horror.
“No, nothing like that,” she replies calmly, and I wonder just how many times she’s given this spiel. “The woman picks the man and she decides if she kisses him or if she lets him touch her.” She pauses. “Or if she chooses to sleep with him.”
“So…” I raise my eyebrows. “This is a high-class brothel?”
Porsha laughs. “Not at all, darling. Trust me. The men we have here don’t have to pay for sex.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“You’re something special.” Her eyes hold mine. “You have that X-factor, April.”
“Meaning?”
“I want you to be an Escape Girl.”
I sit up in my chair. “Oh, I’m sorry if I gave you the impression that I’m—”
“Five thousand pounds a night.”
I freeze. “What?”
“The payment to be an Escape Girl is five thousand pounds a night. That’s nearly seven thousand dollars in American currency. You don’t have to sleep with anyone. You don’t even have to touch them. You do have to spend the night in a suite with them, but there are two bedrooms in the apartments if you choose not to go there. We have twenty-four-hour security, and your safety and identity are always protected.”
“I’m… I don’t… I mean… what?” I sit up in a fluster. “Five thousand pounds a night?”
Porsha smiles, knowing she’s piqued my interest. “That’s right, April. You could earn twenty thousand pounds a month by simply working one shift a week.”
I could pay my rent for an entire year in just one month.
What the fuck?
“Think about it.”
I stay silent.
“Kayla just signed up.”
“Kayla from the waiting room?”
“Yes, she’s out there waiting for the backstage tour now.”
“Oh.” I have no words.
She stands. “Come and look around. You can think on it.” She stands and opens the door, while I sit still, in shock…what the hell?
“Kayla.” Porsha smiles. “Are you ready for the tour?”
“Sure am,” Kayla replies. She seems as sure as day about this. Did she know what position she was applying for?
Porsha turns her attention to me. “Are you coming, April?”
I stand. “I don’t think…” My voice trails off.
Five thousand pounds a night.
“Come on.” Kayla widens her eyes at me. “A look around won’t hurt.”
I look between them, feeling like the ultimate party pooper. “Umm, okay. I guess.”
I follow Porsha and Kayla out of the office and down the stairs. The club seems like it was an old theatre at one stage. It has a gradual drop to the stage at the front, and there are small sections above, clearly once alcoves. Porsha takes a card, swipes a scanner, and a big, black security door opens. We walk through what looks like the back of a Victoria’s Secret show. Small dressing tables line the space, filled with makeup, wigs, and all kinds of glamorous things.
We walk through to another room, and I see a huge rack lined with designer dresses, all of sequins, lace, and feathers.
Jeez.
“All your laser and beauty treatments are on the house while you work here,” Porsha says as she walks us around. “And there is a cap on your shifts. Escape Girls can only work four times a month.”
Kayla does a jig on the spot, as if this is the most exciting thing that has ever happened to her. “Can you believe this?” she whispers.
“Are you crazy?” I mouth.
“Shh.” She links her arm through mine. “Just look around.”
We follow Porsha around the club. She introduces us to the security team and then takes us into the elevator. “On a normal shift, you would come in and have your hair and makeup done professionally, and then you would pick your dress.”
My stomach flutters with nerves as we ride up in the elevator. I imagine the scenario she is setting.
“You would be introduced to the Escape members during the fashion parade, and then after the cocktail party.” The elevator doors open, and we follow her down the swanky corridor. “You would pick your partner and come up to your suite with them.” She uses her security card and swipes the door open and then holds it back for us to pass through.
We walk in, and as I look around the luxurious apartment, my stomach begins to flutter with even more nerves.
Porsha’s phone rings, she glances down at it in her hand. “I have to take this; excuse me for a moment. Look around, girls.” She walks out into the corridor, and Kayla begins to jump around in excitement. “Oh, my fucking God.” She grabs my hands in hers. “Can you believe this?”
“I can’t fuck a rich guy for money,” I whisper.
“Sure, you can. I’ve fucked dead shits for free before.”
I giggle. This is true.
“Five thousand pounds, April, and you don’t even have to sleep with them.”
“I can’t do it. My morals won’t let me.”
“I need a new apartment and a month in Spain more than I need morals. Where does being a nice girl get you?”
I shrug.
“Living in a dump. That’s where.”
“Kayla,” I whisper. “This is full on.”
“Come on. We can help each other through it. When will we ever get the opportunity to make this kind of money again?” She smiles, her face full of hope. “And besides, if it’s crap, we just leave.”
“It’s prostitution,” I whisper.
“It’s just an offer, that’s all. We don’t have to sleep with them. Porsha said so herself.”
“But you know we probably will.”
“I can think of worse things than sleeping with a pro-athlete.”
I giggle.
“And besides, nobody will ever know. It’s the perfect fucking job, April.”
“God,” I whisper. I can’t believe I’m even considering this.
Porsha comes back into the apartment. “So?” She smiles as she looks between us. “What do you girls think?”
“I’m in!” Kayla announces.
Porsha smiles. “Great.” She turns her attention to me. “What about you, April?”
“Oh,” I pause. I really want the money, but… God. “I don’t think I—”
“Why don’t you just try it for one night?” she cuts me off.
I stare at her, my mind a clusterfuck of confusion.
“Five thousand pounds for one night. It’s worth a try.” She smiles.
My eyes flicker between the two of them, and Kayla nods in excitement.
Five thousand would get me out of the dorm, if even for a few months.
Oh, fuck it.
“Okay, one night,” I agree.
Porsha’s grin widens. “Fantastic. We start your training tomorrow.”
I close my eyes.
What the fuck did I just agree to?
Sebastian
I walk into the restaurant at exactly 7:00 a.m. Spencer and Masters are already seated at our usual table in the back. These breakfast meet-ups are all we seem to be able to squeeze in these days.
Time with my two best friends is precious.
Julian Masters and Spencer Jones.
We’ve been close since childhood. They’re the brothers I never had.
Julian has children, and now a wife, so all his spare time is taken up, and Spencer is newly married to his wife Charlotte who is pregnant. He needs these breakfasts with us to survive. She’s busting his balls and it’s hilarious.
“Hey.” I smile as I fall into my seat.
“Hmm,” Julian grunts while reading the paper.
“Can you stop being so fucking grumpy?” Spencer asks him as he butters his toast. “I’m sick of grumpy fucking people. They piss me off.”
“What’s grumpy about that?” Julian asks. “I said hi.”
“Oh, my fuck. Can you even hear yourself? It’s your tone,” Spencer rolls his eyes.
Julian fakes a smile. “Feeling a bit precious this morning, are we, Spence?”
“I am, actually. Good morning, Seb. How are you, my dear friend?” he asks sweetly.
I chuckle as I lay the serviette out on my lap. “Morning, boys.”
The waitress appears. “Can I take your order?”
“I’ll have the omelet and a fresh juice,” I say.
“Same.”
“Make that three,” says Julian.
She smiles and disappears.
“So, what’s new?” Spence asks, taking a sip of his coffee.
“Nothing.” I yawn and stretch. “I’m tired.”
“Not sleeping well?” Spencer asks.
“No, I’m fucking good to go.”
“Yeah, well, enjoy the peace.” Spencer blows into his coffee. “I have no doubt that Charlotte is trying to fuck me to death. By the time this baby is born, I won’t have a dick left. There will be two mothers in our family.”
Julian smiles as he reads his paper. “Ah, pregnant sex. Is there anything better?”
“Sleep, Masters. I would like some fucking sleep once in a while,” Spencer sighs. “I’m running on fucking empty here.”
“What a hardship. A hot and horny wife.” I roll my eyes. “Give me a fucking break, will you?”
“More coffee?” the waitress asks, holding the coffee pot up.
“Please.”
“Thank you.”
The waitress pours us our coffees and leaves us alone.
“Oh.” I smile. “Buddy has a girlfriend.”
“He does?” Spence sits up. “This is his first, right?”
“He called me last night, he’s that excited.” Buddy is my sister’s son. His father left when he was two, and I’ve been his stand in dad ever since. We catch up a couple of times a week. I couldn’t love that kid more if I tried.
“He’s bringing her over on the weekend,” I say.
“What do fathers say when they meet their child’s first partner?” Spence frowns.
“Fuck off,” Masters says flatly, never taking his eyes off the paper. “Plain and simple. Fuck you and fuck right off.”
We chuckle.
Julian hasn’t had it easy. His daughter Willow puts him through his paces with her bad partner choices.
“Well, I’m excited for him,” I smile wistfully. “Apparently, she’s the best thing since sliced bread.”
“Aren’t they all when you’re at that age?” Masters asks.
“What are you guys doing today?” Spence asks.
“Same shit, different day.” Julian shrugs.
“Well,” I pause and rearrange the napkin on my lap. “After I leave here, I’ll be driving across the city, through peak hour traffic, to go to a café to be served by the hottest woman I’ve seen in a very long time. Who,” I add, “makes the worst coffee I have ever fucking tasted.”
They both laugh at me.
“You drive all the way across the city for bad coffee?” Julian frowns.
“You couldn’t even call it coffee. I could literally die from this shit, it’s that bad.”
Spencer raises a brow. “Jesus, she must be hot.”
“She is. Way too wholesome and young for me, though.”
“Why? How old is she?”
“I don’t know.” I twist my lips as I run my hand over my stubble. “She would be in her mid-twenties, at a guess.”
“That’s not too young,” Spencer replies.
“It is.” I frown. “I’m in my late thirties. If I asked her out, she’d probably think I was a creep.”
“That’s because you’re fucking creepy,” Masters mutters dryly.
“My point exactly.” I hold my coffee cup up towards him. “Anyway, I have a plan.”
“Such as?”
“I’m going to keep going back there until she asks me out.”
“Atta boy.” Spencer pats me on the back. “Persistence pays.”
“That’s if you live through the coffee,” Masters says as he turns the page of his newspaper.
We finish our breakfast, and before long, I find myself driving to Kensington to the café. I’m not quite sure what it is about this girl, only that I’ve thought about her constantly, which is weird in itself. I don’t think about women… ever.
I park the car and push open the heavy door of the café, not missing the way the bell overhead jingles.
April looks up, our eyes meet, and she smiles softly, I feel it in my gut.
The guy she works with and her exchange looks, and he gives a subtle shake of his head.
What does that mean? Has she said something about me?
I walk to the counter.
“Hello, Mr. Garcia,” she smiles sexily.
I twist my lips to hide my delight at the fact that she remembers my name. “Hello, April.”
“Double macchiato, sir?”
Death in a cup.
I raise my eyebrow. Actually, that’s the last thing I want. “Yes, please.”
“I’ll make it,” she says to the guy she’s working with. With a nod, he disappears out the back. She turns to the coffee machine, and my eyes drop down her body and linger on her behind. She’s wearing tight blue jeans that hug her in all the right places.
Seriously… hot as fuck.
She’s tall with an athletic body. Her hair is cut into a short, blonde bob. It’s thick and has a bit of a curl to it. Her eyes are big and brown, and her skin has a beautiful honey hue to it.
Just looking at her makes me hard.
“What are you up to today?” she asks me over her shoulder.
Jerking my cock off to the thought of you. “Just working.”
“Oh. What do you do?”
What do you want me to do? “I’m an architect.”
She turns and grins. “Wow, that’s impressive.”
Our eyes lock, and I get an image of her on her knees in front of me sucking my cock. I bite my lip to try and hide my reaction to her. It’s been a long time since a woman affected me this way.
She smiles, as if reading my mind, and we stare at each other while the air crackles between us.
Ask her out.
“Here’s your coffee.” She passes it to me.
Ask her out.
“Thank you.”
Ask her out.
“Have a nice day, Sebastian.” She offers me a playful smile.
My cock clenches at the sound of her saying my name. “You, too.”
I begrudgingly turn toward the door.
Shit.
I exhale with frustration, and I push through the doors. Damn it.
I take a sip of the coffee, and I wince.
Christ Almighty, that’s fucked-up coffee. I immediately throw it in the trash.
It looks like I’m coming back tomorrow.
April
“Wow.” Porsha looks me up and down. “You look incredible.”
I put my hand over my stomach. “This is crazy.”
“Crazy good,” Porsha smiles.
The chatter of the girls around us fills the room. They all seem so excited to be here. For the last three hours, I’ve been pimped, preened, and I’ve had every damn beauty treatment known to man. My hair and makeup are done, and I’m wearing the most beautiful sequined dress I’ve ever seen.
It’s my first shift in the Escape Club, and I’m just about to walk out onto the catwalk. Kayla isn’t here. Apparently, two new girls can’t start on the same night because of something to do with an announcement.
I think I’m going to throw up. I’ve never been so nervous.
What was I thinking?
“You ready?” Porsha asks.
“N-no,” I stammer.
“You’ll be fine.” She holds my shoulders in her hands. “Follow my lead and do just as we taught you in training.”
I nod. “Okay.”
I can hear the music playing. One by one, the girls go out and do their thing. I can also hear the chatter of the men in the cocktail bar as they watch the fashion parade.
I pick up a cocktail from a table and down it in one.
God help me.
Then, I hear the announcement. “And tonight, we introduce a brand-new Escape Girl. This is her first shift, so please welcome the beautiful Cartier.”
I walk out onto the stage and look around at the men gathered around the catwalk. Immediately, my eyes lock with a man who is standing at the end of the runway.
His face falls when he sees me.
Oh no…
It’s him.
Mr. Garcia is here.
